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Porthos

           "Noonecanreproachyouforanythingofthekind,MonsieurBonacieux,"saidtheyoungman;"youareamodelforregularpeople.Itistruethatwhenamanpossessesayoungandprettywife,hehasnoneedtoseekhappinesselsewhere.Happinesscomestomeethim,doesitnot,MonsieurBonacieux?"

           Bonacieuxbecameaspaleasdeath,andgrinnedaghastlysmile.

           "Ah,ah!"saidBonacieux,"youareajocularcompanion!Butwherethedevilwereyougladdinglastnight,myyoungmaster?Itdoesnotappeartobeverycleaninthecrossroads."

           D’Artagnanglanceddownathisboots,allcoveredwithmud;butthatsameglancefellupontheshoesandstockingsofthemercer,anditmighthavebeensaidtheyhadbeendippedinthesamemudheap.Bothwerestainedwithsplashesofmudofthesameappearance.

           Thenasuddenideacrossedthemindofd’Artagnan.Thatlittlestoutman,shortandelderly,thatsortoflackey,dressedindarkclothes,treatedwithoutceremonybythemenwearingswordswhocomposedtheescort,wasBonacieuxhimself.Thehusbandhadpresidedattheabductionofhiswife.

           Aterribleinclinationseizedd’Artagnantograspthemercerbythethroatandstranglehim;but,aswehavesaid,hewasaveryprudentyouth,andherestrainedhimself.However,therevolutionwhichappeareduponhiscountenancewassovisiblethatBonacieuxwasterrifiedatit,andheendeavoredtodrawbackasteportwo;butashewasstandingbeforethehalfofthedoorwhichwasshut,theobstaclecompelledhimtokeephisplace.

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Roboto Lora
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