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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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Twenty Years Later 48 at Prostate Health
shop in the Rue des Lombards and is now a
confectioner."
"Ah, he is a confectioner in the Rue des Lombards! How does
it happen, then, that he is in your service?"
"He has been guilty of certain escapades and fears he may be
disturbed." And the musketeer narrated to his friend
Planchets adventure.
"Well," said Porthos, "if any one had told you in the old
times that the day would come when Planchet would rescue
Rochefort and that you would protect him in it ---- "
"I should not have believed him; but men are changed by
events."
"There is nothing truer than that," said Porthos; "but what
does not change, or changes for the better, is wine. Taste
of this; it is a Spanish wine which our friend Athos thought
much of."
At that moment the steward came in to consult his master
upon the proceedings of the next day and also with regard to
the shooting party which had been proposed.
"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?"
"I like Rustaud, my lord; a good animal, whose paces suit
me."
"Strong, thinkest thou?"
"Half Norman, half Mecklenburger; will go night and day."
"That will do for us. See to these horses. Polish up or make
some one else polish my arms. Then take pistols with thee
and a hunting-knife."
"Are we then going to travel, my lord?" asked Mousqueton,
rather uneasy.
"Something better still, Mouston."
"An expedition, sir?" asked the steward, whose roses began
to change into lilies.
"We are going to return to the service, Mouston," replied
Porthos, still trying to restore his mustache to the
military curl it had long lost.
"Into the service -- the kings service?" Mousqueton
trembled; even his fat, smooth cheeks shook as he spoke, and
he looked at DArtagnan with an air of reproach; he
staggered, and his voice was almost choked.
"Yes and no. We shall serve in a campaign, seek out all
sorts of adventures -- return, in short, to our former
life."
These last words fell on Mousqueton like a thunderbolt. It
was those very terrible old days that made the present so
excessively delightful, and the blow was so great he rushed
out, overcome, and forgot to shut the door.
The two friends remained alone to speak of the future and to
build castles in the air. The good wine which Mousqueton had
placed before them traced out in glowing drops to DArtagnan
a fine perspective, shining with quadruples and pistoles,
and showed to Porthos a blue ribbon and a ducal mantle; they
were, in fact, asleep on the table when the servants came to
light them to their bed.
Mousqueton was, however, somewhat consoled by DArtagnan, who
the next day told him that in all probability war would
always be carried on in the heart of Paris and within reach
of the Chateau du Vallon, which was near Corbeil, or
Bracieux, which was near Melun, and of Pierrefonds, which
was between Compiegne and Villars-Cotterets.
"But -- formerly -- it appears," began Mousqueton timidly.
"Oh!" said DArtagnan, "we dont now make war as we did
formerly. To-day its a sort of diplomatic arrangement; ask
Planchet."
Mousqueton inquired, therefore, the state of the case of his
old friend, who confirmed the statement of DArtagnan.
"But," he added, "in this war prisoners stand a chance of
being hung."
"The deuce they do!" said Mousqueton; "I think I should like
the siege of Rochelle better than this war, then!"
Porthos, meantime, asked DArtagnan to give him his
instructions how to proceed on his journey.
"Four days," replied his friend, "are necessary to reach
Blois; one day to rest there; three or four days to return
to Paris. Set out, therefore, in a week, with your suite,
and go to the Hotel de la Chevrette, Rue Tiquetonne, and
there await me."
"Thats agreed," said Porthos.
"As to myself, I shall go around to see Athos; for though I
dont think his aid worth much, one must with ones friends
observe all due politeness," said DArtagnan.
The friends then took leave of each other on the very border
of the estate of Pierrefonds, to which Porthos escorted his
friend.
"At least," DArtagnan said to himself, as he took the road
to Villars-Cotterets, "at least I shall not be alone in my
undertaking. That devil, Porthos, is a man of prodigious
strength; still, if Athos joins us, well, we shall
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