“Then,” continued the host, “I replied that as from the moment we seemed not likely to come to a good understanding with respect to payment, I hoped that he would have at least the kindness to grant the favor of his custom to my brother host of the Golden Eagle; but Monsieur Porthos replied that, my house being the best, he should remain where he was. This reply was too flattering to allow me to insist on his departure. I confined myself then to begging him to give up his chamber, which is the handsomest in the hôtel, and to be satisfied with a pretty little room on the third floor; but to this Monsieur Porthos replied that as he every moment expected his mistress, who was one of the greatest ladies in the court, I might easily comprehend that the chamber he did me the honor to occupy in my house was itself very mean for the visit of such a personage. Nevertheless, while acknowledging the truth of what he said, I thought proper to insist; but without even giving himself the trouble to enter into any discussion with me, he took one of his pistols, laid it on his table, day and night, and said that at the first word that should be spoken to him about removing, either within the house or out of it, he would blow out the brains of the person who should be so imprudent as to meddle with a matter which only concerned himself. Since that time, monsieur, nobody entered his chamber but his servant.” “What! Mousqueton is here, then?” “Oh, yes, monsieur. Five days after your departure, he came back, and in a very bad condition, too. It appears that he had met with disagreeableness, likewise, on his journey. Unfortunately, he is more nimble than his master; so that for the sake of his master, he puts us all under his feet, and as he thinks we might refuse what he asked for, he takes all he wants without asking at all.” “The fact is,” said D’Artagnan, “I have always observed a great degree of intelligence and devotedness in Mousqueton.” “That is possible, monsieur; but suppose I should happen to be brought in contact, even four times a year, with such intelligence and devotedness—why, I should be a ruined man!” “No, for Porthos will pay you.” “Hum!” said the host, in a doubtful tone. “The favorite of a great lady will not be allowed to be inconvenienced for such a paltry sum as he owes you.” “If I durst say what I believe on that head—” “What you believe?” “I ought rather to say, what I know.” “What you know?” “And even what I am sure of.” “And of what are you so sure?” “I would say that I know this great lady.” “You?” “Yes; I.” “And how do you know her?” “Oh, monsieur, if I could believe I might trust in your discretion.” “Speak! By the word of a gentleman, you shall have no cause to repent of your confidence.” “Well, monsieur, you understand that uneasiness makes us do many things.” “What have you done?” “Oh, nothing which was not right in the character of a creditor.” “Well?”