“And the king?” cried Planchet, who could not suppose it possible that the king could do without the services of such a man as D’Artagnan.
“The king will try his fortune elsewhere. But we have supped well, you are disposed to enjoy yourself; you invite me to confide in you. Open your ears, then.”
“They are open.” And Planchet, with a laugh more frank than cunning, opened a bottle of white wine.
“Leave me my reason, at least.”
“Oh, as to you losing your head—you, monsieur!”
“Now my head is my own, and I mean to take better care of it than ever. In the first place we shall talk business. How fares our money-box?”
“Wonderfully well, monsieur. The twenty thousand livres I had of you are still employed in my trade, in which they bring me nine per cent. I give you seven, so I gain two by you.”
“And you are still satisfied?”
“Delighted. Have you brought me any more?”
“Better than that. But do you want any?”