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No one weel be afraid, for all here are worshippers of the god of beautee all weel bear the pains that he requires. Eh, Meester Carpentair?" Carpenter was staring at her. I had not before seen such intensity of concentration on his face. He was trying to understand this situation, so beyond all believing. "I weel tell you something," said Madame Planchet, lowering her voice confidentially.

"Quick, somebody," cried Planchet, "to look after Monsieur d'Artagnan's horse, somebody to get ready his room, somebody to prepare his supper." "Thanks, Planchet. Good-day, my children!" said D'Artagnan to the eager boys. "Allow me to send off this coffee, this treacle, and these raisins," said Planchet; "they are for the store-room of monsieur le surintendant." "Send them off, send them off!"

In the meantime, the mousetrap continued in operation, and likewise d'Artagnan's vigilance. On the evening of the day after the arrest of poor Bonacieux, as Athos had just left d'Artagnan to report at M. de Treville's, as nine o'clock had just struck, and as Planchet, who had not yet made the bed, was beginning his task, a knocking was heard at the street door.

Left alone, d'Artagnan read and reread his billet. Then he kissed and rekissed twenty times the lines traced by the hand of his beautiful mistress. At length he went to bed, fell asleep, and had golden dreams. At seven o'clock in the morning he arose and called Planchet, who at the second summons opened the door, his countenance not yet quite freed from the anxiety of the preceding night.

Well, this M. Monk, who has England ready-roasted in his plate, and who is already opening his mouth to swallow it this M. Monk, who says to the people of Charles II., and to Charles II. himself, 'Nescio vos' " "I don't understand English," said Planchet. "Yes, but I understand it," said D'Artagnan.

"You should not call her madame," said D'Artagnan. "Why not?" asked Planchet. "Because it would make her seem older every time you call her so." "Well, I call her Truchen." "And a very pretty name too," said Porthos. "Truchen," said Planchet, "came to me from Flanders with her virtue and two thousand florins. She ran away from a brute of a husband who was in the habit of beating her.

"But living," said Porthos; "living, remember that." "That is exactly the reason," said Planchet, timidly, "why I feel it does me good to contemplate a few dead." "Upon my word," said D'Artagnan, "that fellow Planchet is born a philosopher as well as a grocer."

"Himself, my lord." "But he is said to be a furious Mazarinist." "Phew!" whistled Planchet. "What do you mean by that?" "Nothing, my lord; Monsieur d'Artagnan belongs to the service; Monsieur d'Artagnan makes it his business to defend the cardinal, who pays him, as much as we make it ours, we citizens, to attack him, whom he robs."

"The devil! the devil! the devil!" "But, sir," said Planchet, with a look of shrewdness, "I know where Bazin is." "Where is he?" "At Notre Dame." "What has he to do at Notre Dame?" "He is beadle." "Bazin beadle at Notre Dame! He must know where his master is!" "Without a doubt he must." D'Artagnan thought for a moment, then took his sword and put on his cloak to go out.

"The nation which consented to the overthrow and death of the late king, the father of this one, and which will not be willing to belie its acts." "Planchet," said D'Artagnan, "you argue like a cheese! The nation the nation is tired of these gentlemen who give themselves such barbarous names, and who sing songs to it.