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The Pavilion

           "Afraidofbeingheard!Why,thereisnothingimproperinourconversation,mydearPlanchet,andnoonecouldfindfaultwithit."

           "Ah,monsieur!"repliedPlanchet,recurringtohisbesettingidea,"thatMonsieurBonacieuxhassomethingviciousinhiseyebrows,andsomethingveryunpleasantintheplayofhislips."

           "WhatthedevilmakesyouthinkofBonacieux?"

           "Monsieur,wethinkofwhatwecan,andnotofwhatwewill."

           "Becauseyouareacoward,Planchet."

           "Monsieur,wemustnotconfoundprudencewithcowardice;prudenceisavirtue."

           "Andyouareveryvirtuous,areyounot,Planchet?"

           "Monsieur,isnotthatthebarrelofamusketwhichglittersyonder?Hadwenotbetterlowerourheads?"

           "Intruth,"murmuredd’Artagnan,towhomM.deTreville’srecommendationrecurred,"thisanimalwillendbymakingmeafraid."Andheputhishorseintoatrot.

           Planchetfollowedthemovementsofhismasterasifhehadbeenhisshadow,andwassoontrottingbyhisside.

           "Arewegoingtocontinuethispaceallnight?"askedPlanchet.

           "No;youareatyourjourney’send."

           "How,monsieur!Andyou?"

           "Iamgoingafewstepsfarther."

           "AndMonsieurleavesmeherealone?"

           "Youareafraid,Planchet?"

           "No;IonlybegleavetoobservetoMonsieurthatthenightwillbeverycold,thatchillsbringonrheumatism,andthatalackeywhohastherheumatismmakesbutapoorservant,particularlytoamasterasactiveasMonsieur."

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