And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket to answer the needs of the moment, he placed the others in the ebony box, inlaid with mother of pearl, in which was the famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman.
The two friends repaired to Athos’s, and he, faithful to his vow of not going out, took upon him to order dinner to be brought to them. As he was perfectly acquainted with the details of gastronomy, D’Artagnan and Aramis made no objection to abandoning this important care to him.
They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac met Mousqueton, who, with a most pitiable air, was driving before him a mule and a horse.
D’Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite free from joy.
“Ah, my yellow horse,” cried he. “Aramis, look at that horse!”
“Oh, the frightful brute!” said Aramis.
“Ah, my dear,” replied D’Artagnan, “upon that very horse I came to Paris.”
“What, does Monsieur know this horse?” said Mousqueton.
“It is of an original color,” said Aramis; “I never saw one with such a hide in my life.”
“I can well believe it,” replied D’Artagnan, “and that was why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his hide, for, certes, the carcass is not worth eighteen livres. But how did this horse come into your hands, Mousqueton?”