Through the gate was seen kitchen-gardens, carefully attended to, a spacious courtyard, in which neighed several horses held by valets in various liveries, and a carriage, drawn by two horses of the country. “We are mistaken,” said D’Artagnan. “This cannot be the establishment of Athos. Good heavens! suppose he is dead and that this property now belongs to some one who bears his name. Alight, Planchet, and inquire, for I confess that I have scarcely courage so to do.” Planchet alighted. “Thou must add,” said D’Artagnan, “that a gentleman who is passing by wishes to have the honor of paying his respects to the Comte de la Fère, and if thou art satisfied with what thou hearest, then mention my name!” Planchet, leading his horse by the bridle, drew near to the gate and rang the bell, and immediately a servant-man with white hair and of erect stature, notwithstanding his age, presented himself. “Does Monsieur le Comte de la Fère live here?” asked Planchet. “Yes, monsieur, it is here he lives,” the servant replied to Planchet, who was not in livery. “A nobleman retired from service, is he not?” “Yes.” “And who had a lackey named Grimaud?” persisted Planchet, who had prudently considered that he couldn’t have too much information. “Monsieur Grimaud is absent from the château for the time being,” said the servitor, who, little used as he was to such inquiries, began to examine Planchet from head to foot. “Then,” cried Planchet joyously, “I see well that it is the same Comte de la Fère whom we seek. Be good enough to open to me, for I wish to announce to monsieur le comte that my master, one of his friends, is here, and wishes to greet him.” “Why didn’t you say so?” said the servitor, opening the gate. “But where is your master?” “He is following me.” The servitor opened the gate and walked before Planchet, who made a sign to D’Artagnan. The latter, his heart palpitating more than ever, entered the courtyard without dismounting. Whilst Planchet was standing on the steps before the house he heard a voice say: “Well, where is this gentleman and why do they not bring him here?” This voice, the sound of which reached D’Artagnan, reawakened in his heart a thousand sentiments, a thousand recollections that he had forgotten. He vaulted hastily from his horse, whilst Planchet, with a smile on his lips, advanced toward the master of the house. “But I know you, my lad,” said Athos, appearing on the threshold. “Oh, yes, monsieur le comte, you know me and I know you. I am Planchet—Planchet, whom you know well.” But the honest servant could say no more, so much was he overcome by this unexpected interview. “What, Planchet, is Monsieur d’Artagnan here?” “Here I am, my friend, dear Athos!” cried D’Artagnan, in a faltering voice and almost staggering from agitation.