D’Artagnan was acquainted with Villars-Cotterets, having gone thither with the court on several occasions; for at that time Villars-Cotterets was a royal residence. He therefore shaped his course toward that place and dismounted at the Dauphin d’Or. There he ascertained that the Bracieux estate was four leagues distant, but that Porthos was not at Bracieux. Porthos had, in fact, been involved in a dispute with the Bishop of Noyon in regard to the Pierrefonds property, which adjoined his own, and weary at length of a legal controversy which was beyond his comprehension, he put an end to it by purchasing Pierrefonds and added that name to his others. He now called himself Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds, and resided on his new estate. The travelers were therefore obliged to stay at the hotel until the next day; the horses had done ten leagues that day and needed rest. It is true they might have taken others, but there was a great forest to pass through and Planchet, as we have seen, had no liking for forests after dark. There was another thing that Planchet had no liking for and that was starting on a journey with a hungry stomach. Accordingly, D’Artagnan, on awaking, found his breakfast waiting for him. It need not be said that Planchet in resuming his former functions resumed also his former humility and was not ashamed to make his breakfast on what was left by D’Artagnan. It was nearly eight o’clock when they set out again. Their course was clearly defined: they were to follow the road toward Compiègne and on emerging from the forest turn to the right. The morning was beautiful, and in this early springtime the birds sang on the trees and the sunbeams shone through the misty glades, like curtains of golden gauze. In other parts of the forest the light could scarcely penetrate through the foliage, and the stems of two old oak trees, the refuge of the squirrel, startled by the travelers, were in deep shadow. There came up from all nature in the dawn of day a perfume of herbs, flowers and leaves, which delighted the heart. D’Artagnan, sick of the closeness of Paris, thought that when a man had three names of his different estates joined one to another, he ought to be very happy in such a paradise; then he shook his head, saying, “If I were Porthos and D’Artagnan came to make me such a proposition as I am going to make to him, I know what I should say to it.” As to Planchet, he thought of little or nothing, but was happy as a hunting-hound in his old master’s company. At the extremity of the wood D’Artagnan perceived the road that had been described to him, and at the end of the road he saw the towers of an immense feudal castle. “Oh! oh!” he said, “I fancied this castle belonged to the ancient branch of Orléans. Can Porthos have negotiated for it with the Duc de Longueville?” “Faith!” exclaimed Planchet, “here’s land in good condition; if it belongs to Monsieur Porthos I wish him joy.”