“Ha! ha!” cried Porthos, who was not completely taken in by D’Artagnan’s Gasconades.
“Come my brother, go with me,” added D’Artagnan, “and I will see that you are made a duke!”
“No,” answered Porthos, “Mouston has no desire to fight; besides, they have erected a triumphal arch for me to enter my barony, which will kill my neighbors with envy.”
“To that I can say nothing,” returned D’Artagnan, who knew the vanity of the new baron. “Then, here’s to our next merry meeting!”
“Adieu, dear captain,” said Porthos, “I shall always be happy to welcome you to my barony.”
“Yes, yes, when the campaign is over,” replied the Gascon.
“His honor’s equipage is waiting,” said Mousqueton.
The two friends, after a cordial pressure of the hands, separated. D’Artagnan was standing at the door looking after Porthos with a mournful gaze, when the baron, after walking scarcely more than twenty paces, returned—stood still—struck his forehead with his finger and exclaimed:
“I recollect!”
“What?” inquired D’Artagnan.