“Is monsieur your cousin? Is monsieur your brother?” said D’Artagnan, not in the slightest degree embarrassed in the rôle he was playing. And without waiting for her reply he threw himself into the arms of the Helvetian, who received him with great coldness. “Who is that man?” he asked. The hostess replied only by gasps. “Who is that Swiss?” asked D’Artagnan. “Monsieur is going to marry me,” replied the hostess, between two gasps. “Your husband, then, is at last dead?” “How does that concern you?” replied the Swiss. “It concerns me much,” said D’Artagnan, “since you cannot marry madame without my consent and since——” “And since?” asked the Swiss. “And since—I do not give it,” said the musketeer. The Swiss became as purple as a peony. He wore his elegant uniform, D’Artagnan was wrapped in a sort of gray cloak; the Swiss was six feet high, D’Artagnan was hardly more than five; the Swiss considered himself on his own ground and regarded D’Artagnan as an intruder. “Will you go away from here?” demanded the Swiss, stamping violently, like a man who begins to be seriously angry. “I? By no means!” said D’Artagnan. “Some one must go for help,” said a lad, who could not comprehend that this little man should make a stand against that other man, who was so large. D’Artagnan, with a sudden accession of wrath, seized the lad by the ear and led him apart, with the injunction: “Stay you where you are and don’t you stir, or I will pull this ear off. As for you, illustrious descendant of William Tell, you will straightway get together your clothes which are in my room and which annoy me, and go out quickly to another lodging.” The Swiss began to laugh boisterously. “I go out?” he said. “And why?” “Ah, very well!” said D’Artagnan; “I see that you understand French. Come then, and take a turn with me and I will explain.” The hostess, who knew D’Artagnan’s skill with the sword, began to weep and tear her hair. D’Artagnan turned toward her, saying, “Then send him away, madame.” “Pooh!” said the Swiss, who had needed a little time to take in D’Artagnan’s proposal, “pooh! who are you, in the first place, to ask me to take a turn with you?” “I am lieutenant in his majesty’s musketeers,” said D’Artagnan, “and consequently your superior in everything; only, as the question now is not of rank, but of quarters—you know the custom—come and seek for yours; the first to return will recover his chamber.” D’Artagnan led away the Swiss in spite of lamentations on the part of the hostess, who in reality found her heart inclining toward her former lover, though she would not have been sorry to give a lesson to that haughty musketeer who had affronted her by the refusal of her hand. It was night when the two adversaries reached the field of battle. D’Artagnan politely begged the Swiss to yield to him the disputed chamber; the Swiss refused by shaking his head, and drew his sword.