His accounts once settled, and his recommendations made, D’Artagnan thought of nothing but returning to Paris as soon as possible. Athos, on his part, was anxious to reach home and to rest a little. However whole the character and the man may remain after the fatigues of a voyage, the traveler perceives with pleasure, at the close of the day—even though the day has been a fine one—that night is approaching, and will bring a little sleep with it. So, from Boulogne to Paris, jogging on, side by side, the two friends, in some degree absorbed each in his individual thoughts, conversed of nothing sufficiently interesting for us to repeat to our readers. Each of them given up to his personal reflections, and constructing his future after his own fashion, was, above all, anxious to abridge the distance by speed. Athos and D’Artagnan arrived at the gates of Paris on the evening of the fourth day after leaving Boulogne. “Where are you going, my friend?” asked Athos. “I shall direct my course straight to my hotel.” “And I straight to my partner’s.” “To Planchet’s?” “Yes; at the Pilon d’Or.” “Well, but shall we not meet again?” “If you remain in Paris, yes, for I shall stay here.” “No: after having embraced Raoul, with whom I have appointed a meeting at my hotel, I shall set out immediately for La Fere.” “Well, adieu, then, dear and true friend.” “Au revoir! I should rather say, for why can you not come and live with me at Blois? You are free, you are rich, I shall purchase for you, if you like, a handsome estate in the vicinity of Chiverny or of Bracieux. On the one side you will have the finest woods in the world, which join those of Chambord; on the other, admirable marshes. You who love sporting, and who, whether you admit it or not, are a poet, my dear friend, you will find pheasants, rail and teal, without counting sunsets and excursions on the water, to make you fancy yourself Nimrod and Apollo themselves. While awaiting the purchase, you can live at La Fere, and we shall go together to fly our hawks among the vines, as Louis XIII. used to do. That is a quiet amusement for old fellows like us.” D’Artagnan took the hands of Athos in his own. “Dear count,” said he, “I shall say neither ‘Yes’ nor ‘No.’ Let me pass in Paris the time necessary for the regulation of my affairs, and accustom myself, by degrees, to the heavy and glittering idea which is beating in my brain and dazzles me. I am rich, you see, and from this moment until the time when I shall have acquired the habit of being rich, I know myself, and I shall be an insupportable animal. Now, I am not enough of a fool to wish to appear to have lost my wits before a friend like you, Athos. The cloak is handsome, the cloak is richly gilded, but it is new, and does not seem to fit me.” Athos smiled. “So be it,” said he. “But a propos of this cloak, dear D’Artagnan, will you allow me to offer you a little advice?” “Yes, willingly.” “You will not be angry?” “Proceed.”