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Twenty Years Later 47 at Prostate Health
lot."
Whilst making this reflection, chance seemed, as it were, to
give him the lie direct. When Porthos had left him to give
some orders he saw Mousqueton approaching. The face of the
steward, despite one slight shade of care, light as a summer
cloud, seemed a physiognomy of absolute felicity.
"Here is what I am looking for," thought DArtagnan; "but
alas! the poor fellow does not know the purpose for which I
am here."
He then made a sign for Mousqueton to come to him.
"Sir," said the servant, "I have a favour to ask you."
"Speak out, my friend."
"I am afraid to do so. Perhaps you will think, sir, that
prosperity has spoiled me?"
"Art thou happy, friend?" asked DArtagnan.
"As happy as possible; and yet, sir, you may make me even
happier than I am."
"Well, speak, if it depends on me."
"Oh, sir! it depends on you only."
"I listen -- I am waiting to hear."
"Sir, the favor I have to ask of you is, not to call me
`Mousqueton but `Mouston. Since I have had the honor of
being my lords steward I have taken the last name as more
dignified and calculated to make my inferiors respect me.
You, sir, know how necessary subordination is in any large
establishment of servants."
DArtagnan 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."
"Alas!" thought DArtagnan, "it is very little to offset the
unexpected tribulations I am bringing to this poor devil who
has so warmly welcomed me."
"Will monsieur remain long with us?" asked Mousqueton, with a
serene and glowing countenance.
"I go to-morrow, my friend," replied DArtagnan.
"Ah, monsieur," said Mousqueton, "then you have come here
only to awaken our regrets."
"I fear that is true," said DArtagnan, in a low tone.
DArtagnan was secretly touched with remorse, not at
inducing Porthos to enter into schemes in which his life and
fortune would be in jeopardy, for Porthos, in the title of
baron, had his object and reward; but poor Mousqueton, whose
only wish was to be called Mouston -- was it not cruel to
snatch him from the delightful state of peace and plenty in
which he was?
He was thinking of these matters when Porthos summoned him
to dinner.
"What! to dinner?" said DArtagnan. "What time is it, then?"
"Eh! why, it is after one oclock."
"Your home is a paradise, Porthos; one takes no note of
time. I follow you, though I am not hungry."
"Come, if one cant always eat, one can always drink -- a
maxim of poor Athos, the truth of which I have discovered
since I began to be lonely."
DArtagnan, who as a Gascon, was inclined to sobriety,
seemed not so sure as his friend of the truth of Athoss
maxim, but he did his best to keep up with his host.
Meanwhile his misgivings in regard to Mousqueton recurred to
his mind and with greater force because Mousqueton, though he
did not himself wait on the table, which would have been
beneath him in his new position, appeared at the door from
time to time and evinced his gratitude to DArtagnan by the
quality of the wine he directed to be served. Therefore,
when, at dessert, upon a sign from DArtagnan, Porthos had
sent away his servants and the two friends were alone:
"Porthos," said DArtagnan, "who will attend you in your
campaigns?"
"Why," replied Porthos, "Mouston, of course."
This was a blow to DArtagnan. He could already see the
intendants beaming smile change to a contortion of grief.
"But," he said, "Mouston is not so young as he was, my dear
fellow; besides, he has grown fat and perhaps has lost his
fitness for active service."
"That may be true," replied Porthos; "but I am used to him,
and besides, he wouldnt be willing to let me go without
him, he loves me so much."
"Oh, blind self-love!" thought DArtagnan.
"And you," asked Porthos, "havent you still in your service
your old lackey, that good, that brave, that intelligent
---what, then, is his name?"
"Planchet -- yes, I have found him again, but he is lackey
no longer."
"What is he, then?"
"With his sixteen hundred francs -- you remember, the
sixteen hundred francs he earned at the siege of La Rochelle
by carrying a letter to Lord de Winter -- he has set up a
little
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