with poppies, dominated in the gardens and the outbuilding's, which could be seen through the trees. All these statues threw in white relief their profiles upon the dark ground of the tall cypresses, which darted their black summits toward the sky. Around these cypresses were entwined climbing roses, whose flowering rings were fastened to every fork of every branch, and spread over the lower branches and upon the various statues showers of flowers of the richest fragrance. These enchantments seemed to the musketeer the result of the greatest efforts of the human mind. He felt in a dreamy, almost poetical, frame of mind. The idea that Porthos was living in so perfect an Eden gave him a higher idea of Porthos, showing how true it is, that even the very highest orders of minds are not quite exempt from the influence of surrounding circumstances. D'Artagnan found the door, and at the door a kind of spring which he detected; having touched it, the door flew open. D'Artagnan entered, closed the door behind him, and advanced into a pavilion built in a circular form, in which no other sound could be heard but cascades and the songs of birds. At the door of the pavilion he met a lackey. "It is here, I believe," said D'Artagnan, without hesitation, "that M. le Baron de Vallon is staying?" "Yes, monsieur," answered the lackey. "Have the goodness to tell him that M. le Chevalier d'Artagnan, captain of the king's musketeers, is waiting to see him." D'Artagnan was introduced into the salon, and had not long to remain in expectation; a well-remembered step shook the floor of the adjoining room; a door opened, or rather flew open, and Porthos appeared, and threw himself into his friend's arms with a sort of embarrassment which did not ill become him. "You here?" he exclaimed. "And you?" replied D'Artagnan. "Ah, you sly fellow!" "Yes," said Porthos, with a somewhat embarrassed smile; "yes, you see I am staying in M. Fouquet's house, at which you are not a little surprised, I suppose?" "Not at all; why should you not be one of M. Fouquet's friends? M. Fouquet has a very large number, particularly among clever men." Porthos had the modesty not to take the compliment to himself. "Besides," he added, "you saw me at Belle-Isle." "A greater reason for my believing you to be one of M. Fouquet's friends." "The fact is, I am acquainted with him," said Porthos, with a certain embarrassment of manner. "Ah, friend Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "how treacherously you have behaved toward me." "In what way?" exclaimed Porthos.