“Yes, monsieur; we have so many pleasures to take in this delightful country, that we were encumbered by them; so much so, that we have been forced to regulate the distribution of them.” “How easily do I recognize Porthos’s love of order in that! Now, that idea would never have occurred to me; but then I am not encumbered with pleasures.” “We were, though,” said Mousqueton. “And how did you regulate the matter, let me know?” said D’Artagnan. “It is rather long, monsieur.” “Never mind, we have plenty of time; and you speak so well, my dear Mousqueton, that it is really a pleasure to hear you.” “It is true,” said Mousqueton, with a sigh of satisfaction, which emanated evidently from the justice which had been rendered him, “it is true I have made great progress in the company of monseigneur.” “I am waiting for the distribution of the pleasures, Mousqueton, and with impatience. I want to know if I have arrived on a lucky day.” “Oh, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Mousqueton in a melancholy tone, “since monseigneur’s departure all the pleasures have gone too!” “Well, my dear Mousqueton, refresh your memory.” “With what day shall I begin?” “Eh, pardieux! begin with Sunday; that is the Lord’s day.” “Sunday, monsieur?” “Yes.” “Sunday pleasures are religious: monseigneur goes to mass, makes the bread-offering, and has discourses and instructions made to him by his almoner-in-ordinary. That is not very amusing, but we expect a Carmelite from Paris who will do the duty of our almonry, and who, we are assured, speaks very well, which will keep us awake, whereas our present almoner always sends us to sleep. These are Sunday religious pleasures. On Monday, worldly pleasures.” “Ah, ah!” said D’Artagnan, “what do you mean by that? Let us have a glimpse at your worldly pleasures.” “Monsieur, on Monday we go into the world; we pay and receive visits, we play on the lute, we dance, we make verses, and burn a little incense in honor of the ladies.” “Peste! that is the height of gallantry,” said the musketeer, who was obliged to call to his aid all the strength of his facial muscles to suppress an enormous inclination to laugh. “Tuesday, learned pleasures.” “Good!” cried D’Artagnan. “What are they? Detail them, my dear Mousqueton.” “Monseigneur has bought a sphere or globe, which I shall show you; it fills all the perimeter of the great tower, except a gallery which he has had built over the sphere: there are little strings and brass wires to which the sun and moon are hooked. It all turns; and that is very beautiful. Monseigneur points out to me the seas and distant countries. We don’t intend to visit them, but it is very interesting.” “Interesting! yes, that’s the word,” repeated D’Artagnan. “And Wednesday?”