visit.”
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“I will pay it, monsieur, with great pleasure. I love
Monsieur d’Artagnan exceedingly.”
“You are right in doing so; he is a worthy man and a brave
cavalier.”
“Who loves you dearly.”
“I am sure of that. Do you know his address?”
“At the Louvre, I suppose, or wherever the king is. Does he
not command the musketeers?”
“No; at present M. d’Artagnan is absent on leave; he is
resting for awhile. Do not, therefore, seek him at the posts
of his service. You will hear of him at the house of a
certain Planchet.”
“His former lackey?”
“Exactly, turned grocer.”
“I know; Rue des Lombards?”
“Somewhere thereabouts, or Rue des Arcis.”
“I will find it, monsieur, — I will find it.”
“You will say a thousand kind things to him, on my part, and
ask him to come and dine with me before I set out for La
Fere.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good-night, Raoul!”
“Monsieur, I see you wear an order I never saw you wear
before; accept my compliments!”
“The Fleece! that is true. A bauble, my boy, which no longer
amuses an old child like myself. Goodnight, Raoul!”
CHAPTER 52
D’Artagnan’s Lesson
Raoul did not meet with D’Artagnan the next day, as he had
hoped. He only met with Planchet, whose joy was great at
seeing the young man again, and who contrived to pay him two
or three little soldierly compliments, savoring very little
of the grocer’s shop. But as Raoul was returning the next
day from Vincennes, at the head of fifty dragoons confided
to him by Monsieur le Prince, he perceived, in La Place
Baudoyer, a man with his nose in the air, examining a house
as we examine a horse we have a fancy to buy. This man,
dressed in citizen costume buttoned up like a military
pourpoint, a very small hat on his head, but a long
shagreen-mounted sword by his side, turned his head as soon
as he heard the steps of the horses, and left off looking at
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the house to look at the dragoons. It was simply M.
d’Artagnan; D’Artagnan on foot; D’Artagnan with his hands
behind him, passing a little review upon the dragoons, after
having reviewed the buildings. Not a man, not a tag, not a
horse’s hoof escaped his inspection. Raoul rode at the side
of his troop; D’Artagnan perceived him the last. “Eh!” said
he, “Eh! Mordioux!”
“I was not mistaken!” cried Raoul, turning his horse towards
him.
“Mistaken — no! Good-day to you,” replied the ex-musketeer;
whilst Raoul eagerly pressed the hand of his old friend.
“Take care, Raoul,” said D’Artagnan, “the second horse of
the fifth rank will lose a shoe before he gets to the Pont
Marie; he has only two nails left in his off fore-foot.”
“Wait a minute, I will come back,” said Raoul.
“Can you quit your detachment?”
“The cornet is there to take my place.”
“Then you will come and dine with me?”
“Most willingly, Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“Be quick, then; leave your horse, or make them give me
one.”
“I prefer coming back on foot with you.”
Raoul hastened to give notice to the cornet, who took his
post; he then dismounted, gave his horse to one of the
dragoons, and with great delight seized the arm of M.
d’Artagnan, who had watched him during all these little
evolutions with the satisfaction of a connoisseur.
“What, do you come from Vincennes?” said he.
“Yes, monsieur le chevalier.”
“And the cardinal?”
“Is very ill, it is even reported he is dead.’
“Are you on good terms with M. Fouquet?” asked D’Artagnan,
with a disdainful movement of the shoulders, proving that
the death of Mazarin did not affect him beyond measure.
“With M. Fouquet?” said Raoul ” I do not know him.”
“So much the worse! so much the worse! for a new king always
seeks to get good men in his employment.”
“Oh! the king means no harm,” replied the young man.
“I say nothing about the crown,” cried D’Artagnan; “I am
speaking of the king — the king, that is M. Fouquet, if the