“Three hundred thousand livres! Two-thirds too much!”
“I beg your pardon—did you not tell me?—I thought I heard you say—I fancied you had a partner—”
“Ah! Mordioux! that’s true,” cried D’Artagnan, coloring; “there is Planchet. I had forgotten Planchet, upon my life! Well! there are my three hundred thousand livres broken into. That’s a pity! it was a round sum, and sounded well. That is true, Athos; I am no longer rich. What a memory you have!”
“Tolerably good; yes, thank God!”
“The worthy Planchet!” grumbled D’Artagnan; “his was not a bad dream! What a speculation! Peste! Well! what is said is said.”
“How much are you to give him?”
“Oh!” said D’Artagnan, “he is not a bad fellow; I shall arrange matters with him. I have had a great deal of trouble, you see, and expenses; all that must be taken into account.”
“My dear friend, I can depend on you, and have no fear for the worthy Planchet; his interests are better in your hands than in his own. But now that you have nothing more to do here, we shall depart, if you please. You can go and thank his majesty, ask if he has any commands, and in six days we may be able to get sight of the towers of Notre Dame.”
“My friend, I am most anxious to be off, and will go at once and pay my respects to the king.”
“I,” said Athos, “am going to call upon some friends in the city, and shall then be at your service.”