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The Wife of Athos

           "Withoutreckoning,monsieur,"addedPlanchettohismaster’saudiblyexpressedreflections,"thatweperhapsoweourlivestohim.Doyourememberhowhecried,‘On,d’Artagnan,on,Iamtaken’?Andwhenhehaddischargedhistwopistols,whataterriblenoisehemadewithhissword!Onemighthavesaidthattwentymen,orrathertwentymaddevils,werefighting."

           Thesewordsredoubledtheeagernessofd’Artagnan,whourgedhishorse,thoughhestoodinneedofnoincitement,andtheyproceededatarapidpace.Abouteleveno’clockinthemorningtheyperceivedAmeins,andathalfpasteleventheywereatthedoorofthecursedinn.

           D’Artagnanhadoftenmeditatedagainsttheperfidioushostoneofthoseheartyvengeanceswhichofferconsolationwhiletheyarehopedfor.Heenteredthehostelrywithhishatpulledoverhiseyes,hislefthandonthepommelofthesword,andcrackinghiswhipwithhisrighthand.

           "Doyourememberme?"saidhetothehost,whoadvancedtogreethim.

           "Ihavenotthathonor,monseigneur,"repliedthelatter,hiseyesdazzledbythebrilliantstyleinwhichd’Artagnantraveled.

           "What,youdon’tknowme?"

           "No,monseigneur."

           "Well,twowordswillrefreshyourmemory.Whathaveyoudonewiththatgentlemanagainstwhomyouhadtheaudacity,abouttwelvedaysago,tomakeanaccusationofpassingfalsemoney?"

           Thehostbecameaspaleasdeath;ford’Artagnanhadassumedathreateningattitude,andPlanchetmodeledhimselfafterhismaster.

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