“You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was your fault.”
“All my oil is lost!”
“Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here was obliged to dress those you had inflicted on him.”
“All my sausages are gnawed!”
“There is an enormous quantity of rats in that cellar.”
“You shall pay me for all this,” cried the exasperated host.
“Triple ass!” said Athos, rising; but he sank down again immediately. He had tried his strength to the utmost. D’Artagnan came to his relief with his whip in his hand.
The host drew back and burst into tears.
“This will teach you,” said D’Artagnan, “to treat the guests God sends you in a more courteous fashion.”
“God? Say the devil!”