Planchet put away his money, and made up his accounts, amidst civilities addressed to his former master. Planchet had with his equals the short speech and haughty familiarity of the rich shopkeeper who serves everybody and waits for nobody. D’Artagnan observed this habit with a pleasure which we shall analyze presently. He saw night come on by degrees, and at length Planchet conducted him to a chamber on the first story, where, amidst bales and chests, a table very nicely set out awaited the two guests. D’Artagnan took advantage of a moment’s pause to examine the countenance of Planchet, whom he had not seen for a year. The shrewd Planchet had acquired a slight protuberance in front, but his countenance was not puffed. His keen eye still played with facility in its deep-sunk orbit; and fat, which levels all the characteristic saliences of the human face, had not yet touched either his high cheek-bones, the sign of cunning and cupidity, or his pointed chin, the sign of acuteness and perseverance. Planchet reigned with as much majesty in his dining-room as in his shop. He set before his master a frugal, but perfectly Parisian repast: roast meat, cooked at the baker’s, with vegetables, salad, and a dessert borrowed from the shop itself. D’Artagnan was pleased that the grocer had drawn from behind the fagots a bottle of that Anjou wine which during all his life had been D’Artagnan’s favorite wine. “Formerly, monsieur,” said Planchet, with a smile full of bonhomie, “it was I who drank your wine; now you do me the honor to drink mine.” “And, thank God, friend Planchet, I shall drink it for a long time to come, I hope; for at present I am free.” “Free? You have a leave of absence, monsieur?” “Unlimited.” “You are leaving the service?” said Planchet, stupefied. “Yes, I am resting.” “And the king?” cried Planchet, who could not suppose it possible that the king could do without the services of such a man as D’Artagnan. “The king will try his fortune elsewhere. But we have supped well, you are disposed to enjoy yourself; you invite me to confide in you. Open your ears, then.” “They are open.” And Planchet, with a laugh more frank than cunning, opened a bottle of white wine. “Leave me my reason, at least.” “Oh, as to you losing your head—you, monsieur!” “Now my head is my own, and I mean to take better care of it than ever. In the first place we shall talk business. How fares our money-box?” “Wonderfully well, monsieur. The twenty thousand livres I had of you are still employed in my trade, in which they bring me nine per cent. I give you seven, so I gain two by you.” “And you are still satisfied?” “Delighted. Have you brought me any more?” “Better than that. But do you want any?” “Oh! not at all. Every one is willing to trust me now. I am extending my business.” “That was your intention.” “I play the banker a little. I buy goods of my needy brethren; I lend money to those who are not ready for their payments.” “Without usury?”