“Oh! monsieur, in the course of the last week I have had two meetings on the boulevards, on account of the word you have just pronounced.” “What?” “You shall see: it concerned a loan. The borrower gives me in pledge some raw sugars, on condition that I should sell if repayment were not made within a fixed period. I lend a thousand livres. He does not pay me, and I sell the sugars for thirteen hundred livres. He learns this and claims a hundred crowns. Ma foi! I refused, pretending that I could not sell them for more than nine hundred livres. He accused me of usury. I begged him to repeat that word to me behind the boulevards. He was an old guard, and he came: and I passed your sword through his left thigh.” “Tu dieu! what a pretty sort of banker you make!” said D’Artagnan. “For above thirteen per cent I fight,” replied Planchet; “that is my character.” “Take only twelve,” said D’Artagnan, “and call the rest premium and brokerage.” “You are right, monsieur; but to your business.” “Ah! Planchet, it is very long and very hard to speak.” “Do speak it, nevertheless.” D’Artagnan twisted his mustache like a man embarrassed with the confidence he is about to make and mistrustful of his confidant. “Is it an investment?” asked Planchet. “Why, yes.” “At good profit?” “A capital profit,—four hundred per cent, Planchet.” Planchet gave such a blow with his fist upon the table, that the bottles bounded as if they had been frightened. “Good heavens! is that possible?” “I think it will be more,” replied D’Artagnan coolly; “but I like to lay it at the lowest!” “The devil!” said Planchet, drawing nearer. “Why, monsieur, that is magnificent! Can one put much money in it?” “Twenty thousand livres each, Planchet.” “Why, that is all you have, monsieur. For how long a time?” “For a month.” “And that will give us—” “Fifty thousand livres each, profit.” “It is monstrous! It is worth while to fight for such interest as that!” “In fact, I believe it will be necessary to fight not a little,” said D’Artagnan, with the same tranquillity; “but this time there are two of us, Planchet, and I shall take all the blows to myself.” “Oh! monsieur, I will not allow that.” “Planchet, you cannot be concerned in it; you would be obliged to leave your business and your family.” “The affair is not in Paris, then.” “No.” “Abroad?” “In England.” “A speculative country, that is true,” said Planchet,—“a country that I know well. What sort of an affair, monsieur, without too much curiosity?” “Planchet, it is a restoration.” “Of monuments?” “Yes, of monuments; we shall restore Whitehall.” “That is important. And in a month, you think?” “I shall undertake it.” “That concerns you, monsieur, and when once you are engaged—” “Yes, that concerns me. I know what I am about; nevertheless, I will freely consult with you.” “You do me great honor; but I know very little about architecture.”