On an April morning of the year 1626, in the market town of Meung, in the country of France, a young man, eighteen years of age, came to the door of an inn. He was riding an orange-coloured pony, none too good a specimen of a steed. His name was d'Artagnan. He came from Gascony, and in a story it is always taken for granted that Gascons are very proud and hot-tempered. He was poor and somewhat shabby in appearance. A man at one of the windows of the inn appeared to be laughing at him and at the queer colour of his pony; indeed the man had called the pony a buttercup. D'Artagnan, who was wearing a sword, at once challenged the man, Rochefort, to fight with him. There was a fight which was rather a scuffle than a combat. Still d'Artagnan {60} acquitted himself with credit, although later he was beaten into insensibility by Rochefort's servants. He lost, however, the precious letter his father had given him to M. de Treville, Captain of the King's Musketeers. Nevertheless, that same day he rode to the St. Antoine Gate of Paris, sold his horse, and on the day following presented himself in the antechamber of M. de Treville. There he meets the three famous musketeers, Athos, Aramis and Porthos. Louis XIII is King of France, Anne of Austria is Queen, and Cardinal Richelieu is as powerful a leader as either of them. So begins the thrilling series of romances in which d'Artagnan appears, the whole series being the masterpiece of Alexandre Dumas. _The Three Musketeers_ is the first story about d'Artagnan. The second is called _Twenty Years After_; the third, _Vicomte de Bragelonne_. In the second story, Louis XIII has died and Anne of Austria is regent. Her chief minister is Mazarin. We see in his youth the young king who is to be the famous Louis XIV. But the really important characters are d'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis and Porthos; the Vicomte de Bragelonne, who is dearly loved by these four heroes, is Athos' son. French history is shown by Dumas to have a curious relation to English history. But the connection is more or less imaginary. When we read these stories, it is possible that we may obtain some idea of French history, even of English history. We see brilliant scenes of colour, romance and intrigue. We read of triumphs, catastrophes and great occasions. But what really {61} matters are d'Artagnan's splendid wit and audacity, the silent dignity of Athos, the subtlety of Aramis, and the marvellous strength of Porthos.