“My faith!” said D’Artagnan, with great pleasure. “It is long since we have had a good dinner; and I, for my part, have a somewhat hazardous expedition for this evening, and shall not be sorry, I confess, to fortify myself with a few glasses of good old Burgundy.” “Agreed, as to the old Burgundy; I have no objection to that,” said Aramis, from whom the letter and the gold had removed, as by magic, his ideas of conversion. And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket to answer the needs of the moment, he placed the others in the ebony box, inlaid with mother of pearl, in which was the famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman. The two friends repaired to Athos’s, and he, faithful to his vow of not going out, took upon him to order dinner to be brought to them. As he was perfectly acquainted with the details of gastronomy, D’Artagnan and Aramis made no objection to abandoning this important care to him. They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac met Mousqueton, who, with a most pitiable air, was driving before him a mule and a horse. D’Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite free from joy. “Ah, my yellow horse,” cried he. “Aramis, look at that horse!” “Oh, the frightful brute!” said Aramis. “Ah, my dear,” replied D’Artagnan, “upon that very horse I came to Paris.” “What, does Monsieur know this horse?” said Mousqueton. “It is of an original color,” said Aramis; “I never saw one with such a hide in my life.” “I can well believe it,” replied D’Artagnan, “and that was why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his hide, for, _certes_, the carcass is not worth eighteen livres. But how did this horse come into your hands, Mousqueton?” “Pray,” said the lackey, “say nothing about it, monsieur; it is a frightful trick of the husband of our duchess!” “How is that, Mousqueton?” “Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a lady of quality, the Duchesse de—but, your pardon; my master has commanded me to be discreet. She had forced us to accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish _genet_ and an Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the two magnificent beasts which were being sent to us, and substituted these horrible animals.” “Which you are taking back to him?” said D’Artagnan. “Exactly!” replied Mousqueton. “You may well believe that we will not accept such steeds as these in exchange for those which had been promised to us.” “No, _pardieu;_ though I should like to have seen Porthos on my yellow horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked when I arrived in Paris. But don’t let us hinder you, Mousqueton; go and perform your master’s orders. Is he at home?” “Yes, monsieur,” said Mousqueton, “but in a very ill humor. Get up!”