by Alexandre Dumas

“ Aramis has always fifty duchesses quarreling over the priest, as they quarreled formerly over the musketeer; but I -- what have I in the world? I have worn my cuirass these twenty years, kept down in this inferior rank, without going forward or backward, hardly half living. In fact, I am dead. Well! When there is some idea of being resuscitated, you say he's a scoundrel, an impudent fellow, a miser, a bad master! By Jove! I am of your opinion, but find me a better one or give me the means of living."
Athos was for a few moments thoughtful.
"Good! D'Artagnan is for Mazarin," he said to himself. ”

“ The road, as D'Artagnan had observed, was the way to Blois.
"So!" thought the Gascon "Here's a young blade who has already his love affair, who doesn't at all agree with Athos in his hatred to the fair sex. He's not going to hunt, for he has neither dogs nor arms; he's not going on a message, for he goes secretly. Why does he go in secret? Is he afraid of me or of his father? For I am sure the count is his father. By Jove! I shall know about that soon, for I shall soon speak out to Athos." ”

“ Our former life, has it still no attractions for you? would you not be happy to begin anew in my society and in that of Porthos, the exploits of our youth?"
"Do you propose to me to do so, D'Artagnan?"
"Decidedly and honestly."
"On whose side?" asked Athos, fixing his clear, benevolent glance on the countenance of the Gascon.
"Ah, devil take it, you speak in earnest ---- "
"And must have a definite answer. Listen, D'Artagnan. There is but one person, or rather, one cause, to whom a man like me can be useful -- that of the king." ”

“ Dear friend, at Raoul's age the heart is so expansive that it must encircle one object or another, fancied or real. Well, his love is half real, half fanciful. She is the prettiest little creature in the world, with flaxen hair, blue eyes, -- at once saucy and languishing. ”

“ The bird on the branch, the dog in his kennel, the sheep in the field, the boats moored in the Loire, even, became alive and vocal. The latter, leaving the shore, abandoned themselves gaily to the current. The Gascon gave a last twirl to his mustache, a last turn to his hair, brushed, from habit, the brim of his hat with the sleeve of his doublet, and went downstairs. ”

“ And he read that welcome postscript, which made him forget the abruptness of the letter.
"P. S. -- Go to the king's treasurer, at Blois; tell him your name and show him this letter; you will receive two hundred pistoles."
"Assuredly," said D'Artagnan, "I admire this piece of prose. The cardinal writes better than I thought. Come, Planchet, let us pay a visit to the king's treasurer and then set off." ”