“As happy as possible; and yet, sir, you may make me even happier than I am.”
“Well, speak, if it depends on me.”
“Oh, sir! it depends on you only.”
“I listen—I am waiting to hear.”
“Sir, the favor I have to ask of you is, not to call me ‘Mousqueton’ but ‘Mouston.’ Since I have had the honor of being my lord’s steward I have taken the last name as more dignified and calculated to make my inferiors respect me. You, sir, know how necessary subordination is in any large establishment of servants.”
D’Artagnan smiled; Porthos wanted to lengthen out his names, Mousqueton to cut his short.
“Well, my dear Mouston,” he said, “rest satisfied. I will call thee Mouston; and if it makes thee happy I will not ‘tutoyer’ you any longer.”
“Oh!” cried Mousqueton, reddening with joy; “if you do me, sir, such honor, I shall be grateful all my life; it is too much to ask.”
“Alas!” thought D’Artagnan, “it is very little to offset the unexpected tribulations I am bringing to this poor devil who has so warmly welcomed me.”
“Will monsieur remain long with us?” asked Mousqueton, with a serene and glowing countenance.