“In short,” said Porthos, “when all my expenses are paid, I shall have, at most, thirty crowns left.”
“And I about ten pistoles,” said Aramis.
“Well, then it appears that we are the Croesuses of the society. How much have you left of your hundred pistoles, d’Artagnan.?”
“Of my hundred pistoles? Why, in the first place I gave you fifty.”
“You think so?”
“PARDIEU!”
“Ah, that is true. I recollect.”
“Then I paid the host six.”
“What a brute of a host! Why did you give him six pistoles?”
“You told me to give them to him.”
“It is true; I am too good-natured. In brief, how much remains?”
“Twenty-five pistoles,” said d’Artagnan.
“And I,” said Athos, taking some small change from his pocket, I–”
“You? Nothing!”
“My faith! So little that it is not worth reckoning with the general stock.”
“Now, then, let us calculate how much we posses in all.”
“Porthos?”
“Thirty crowns.”
“Aramis?”
“Ten pistoles.”
“And you, d’Artagnan?”
“Twenty-five.”
“That makes in all?” said Athos.
“Four hundred and seventy-five livres,” said d’Artagnan, who reckoned like Archimedes.
“On our arrival in Paris, we shall still have four hundred, besides the harnesses,” said Porthos.
“But our troop horses?” said Aramis.
“Well, of the four horses of our lackeys we will make two for the masters, for which we will draw lots. With the four hundred livres we will make the half of one for one of the unmounted, and then we will give the turnings out of our pockets to d’Artagnan, who has a steady hand, and will go and play in the first gaming house we come to. There!”
“Let us dine, then,” said Porthos; “it is getting cold.”
The friends, at ease with regard to the future, did honor to the repast, the remains of which were abandoned to Mousqueton, Bazin, Planchet, and Grimaud.
On arriving in Paris, d’Artagnan found a letter from M. de Treville, which informed him that, at his request, the king had promised that he should enter the company of the Musketeers.
As this was the height of d’Artagnan’s worldly ambition–apart, be it well understood, from his desire of finding Mme. Bonacieux–he ran, full of joy, to seek his comrades, whom he had left only half an hour before, but whom he found very sad and deeply preoccupied. They were assembled in council at the residence of Athos, which always indicated an event of some gravity. M. de Treville had intimated to them his Majesty’s fixed intention to open the campaign on the first of May, and they must immediately prepare their outfits.
The four philosophers looked at one another in a state of bewilderment. M. de Treville never jested in matters relating to discipline.
“And what do you reckon your outfit will cost?” said d’Artagnan.
“Oh, we can scarcely say. We have made our calculations with Spartan economy, and we each require fifteen hundred livres.”
“Four times fifteen makes sixty–six thousand livres,” said Athos.
“It seems to me,” said d’Artagnan, “with a thousand livres each– I do not speak as a Spartan, but as a procurator–”
This word PROCURATOR roused Porthos. “Stop,” said he, “I have an idea.”
“Well, that’s something, for I have not the shadow of one,” said Athos cooly; “but as to d’Artagnan, gentlemen, the idea of belonging to OURS has driven him out of his senses. A thousand livres! For my part, I declare I want two thousand.”
“Four times two makes eight,” then said Aramis; “it is eight