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The Return

           "Well,youseehowamanmaycompromisehimselfwhenhedoesnotknowwhathesays,"repliedAthos,shrugginghisshouldersasifhethoughthimselfanobjectofpity."Icertainlyneverwillgetdrunkagain,d’Artagnan;itistoobadahabit."

           D’Artagnanremainedsilent;andthenchangingtheconversationallatonce,Athossaid:

           "Bytheby,Ithankyouforthehorseyouhavebroughtme."

           "Isittoyourmind?"askedd’Artagnan.

           "Yes;butitisnotahorseforhardwork."

           "Youaremistaken;Irodehimnearlytenleaguesinlessthananhourandahalf,andheappearednomoredistressedthanifhehadonlymadethetourofthePlaceSt.Sulpice."

           "Ah,youbegintoawakenmyregret."

           "Regret?"

           "Yes;Ihavepartedwithhim."

           "How?"

           "Why,hereisthesimplefact.ThismorningIawokeatsixo’clock.Youwerestillfastasleep,andIdidnotknowwhattodowithmyself;Iwasstillstupidfromouryesterday’sdebauch.AsIcameintothepublicroom,IsawoneofourEnglishmanbargainingwithadealerforahorse,hisownhavingdiedyesterdayfrombleeding.Idrewnear,andfoundhewasbiddingahundredpistolesforachestnutnag.‘PARDIEU,’saidI,‘mygoodgentleman,Ihaveahorsetosell,too.’‘Ay,andaveryfineone!Isawhimyesterday;yourfriend’slackeywasleadinghim.’‘Doyouthinkheisworthahundredpistoles?’‘Yes!Willyousellhimtomeforthatsum?’‘No;butIwillplayforhim.’‘What?’‘Atdice.’Nosoonersaidthandone,andIlostthehorse.

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Roboto Lora
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