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D'Artagnan smiled; Porthos wanted to lengthen out his names, Mousqueton to cut his short. "Well, my dear Mouston," he said, "rest satisfied. I will call thee Mouston; and if it makes thee happy I will not 'tutoyer' you any longer." "Oh!" cried Mousqueton, reddening with joy; "if you do me, sir, such honor, I shall be grateful all my life; it is too much to ask."
"Consider my joy when, after a year and a half's judicious feeding for I used to feed him up myself the fellow " "Oh! I lent a good hand myself, monsieur," said Mouston, humbly. "That's true.
On landing, Porthos inquired if his horses were waiting, and soon perceived them at the crossing of the road that winds round Sarzeau, and which, without passing through that little city, leads towards Vannes. These horses were two in number, one for M. de Vallon, and one for his equerry; for Porthos had an equerry since Mouston was only able to use a carriage as a means of locomotion.
Here is D'Artagnan. I shall then get hold of an idea!" At these words Mouston, doubting what was going on behind him, got out of the way, smiling kindly at the friend of his master, who thus found himself freed from the material obstacle which had prevented his reaching D'Artagnan.
"Well, well, 'tis no less true," said Porthos, delighted at the idea of having jumped to a conclusion so closely in agreement with the greatest sages of antiquity. "Wonderfully but suppose we return to Mouston. It seems to me, we have left him fattening under our very eyes." "Yes, monsieur," said Mouston.
Porthos undertook to confer upon Mouston a position of some kind or other, in order to establish a sort of hierarchy among his other domestics, and to create a military household, which was not unusual among the great captains of the age, since, in the preceding century, this luxury had been greatly encouraged by Messieurs de Treville, de Schomberg, de la Vieuville, without alluding to M. de Richelieu, M. de Conde, and de Bouillon-Turenne.
With a pitiful sob she covered her face with her hands, and, beside her, Mouston the pampered cringed and whimpered unheeded and forgotten. She had looked forward to his return with such high hopes and now they lay shattered at her feet. During a brief hour that might have drawn them nearer together they had contrived to hurt each other as it must seem to both by deliberate intent.
"Ah! yes; pay your compliments; you have ample grounds to go upon. "And did Mouston neglect complying with your instructions? Ah! that was anything but right, Mouston." "No, monsieur, quite the contrary; quite the contrary!" "No, he never forgot to have his coats made; but he forgot to inform me that he had got stouter!" "But it was not my fault, monsieur! your tailor never told me."
"Tell me, Mouston," said Porthos, "are my arms in good condition?" "Your arms, my lord what arms?" "Zounds! my weapons." "What weapons?" "My military weapons." "Yes, my lord; at any rate, I think so." "Make sure of it, and if they want it, have them burnished up. Which is my best cavalry horse?" "Vulcan." "And the best hack?" "Bayard." "What horse dost thou choose for thyself?"
Porthos, sad and reflective as La Fontaine's hare, did not observe D'Artagnan's entrance, which was, moreover, screened at this moment by M. Mouston, whose personal corpulency, quite enough at any time to hide one man from another, was effectually doubled by a scarlet coat which the intendant was holding up for his master's inspection, by the sleeves, that he might the better see it all over.
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