“Well, you will surrender the harnesses.”
“Have with you for one throw!” said D’Artagnan.
Athos went in quest of the Englishman, whom he found in the stable, examining the harnesses with a greedy eye. The opportunity was good. He proposed the conditions—the two harnesses, either against one horse or a hundred pistoles. The Englishman calculated fast; the two harnesses were worth three hundred pistoles. He consented.
D’Artagnan threw the dice with a trembling hand, and turned up the number three; his paleness terrified Athos, who, however, consented himself with saying, “That’s a sad throw, comrade; you will have the horses fully equipped, monsieur.”
The Englishman, quite triumphant, did not even give himself the trouble to shake the dice. He threw them on the table without looking at them, so sure was he of victory; D’Artagnan turned aside to conceal his ill humor.
“Hold, hold, hold!” said Athos, wit his quiet tone; “that throw of the dice is extraordinary. I have not seen such a one four times in my life. Two aces!”
The Englishman looked, and was seized with astonishment. D’Artagnan looked, and was seized with pleasure.
“Yes,” continued Athos, “four times only; once at the house of Monsieur Créquy; another time at my own house in the country, in my château at—when I had a château; a third time at Monsieur de Tréville’s where it surprised us all; and the fourth time at a cabaret, where it fell to my lot, and where I lost a hundred louis and a supper on it.”
“Then Monsieur takes his horse back again,” said the Englishman.
“Certainly,” said D’Artagnan.