“Ah! ’tis thou, rascal!” said he, “come here: so thou hast changed thy trade; thou art no longer a choir boy nor a tavern boy; thou hast become a horse stealer?”
“Ah, your honor, how can you say so?” exclaimed Friquet. “I was seeking the gentleman to whom this horse belongs—an officer, brave and handsome as a youthful Caesar;” then, pretending to see Raoul for the first time:
“Ah! but if I mistake not,” continued he, “here he is; you won’t forget the boy, sir.”
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you about?” asked D’Artagnan.
“To give ten francs to this honest fellow,” replied Raoul, taking a pistole from his pocket.
“Ten kicks on his back!” said D’Artagnan; “be off, you little villain, and forget not that I have your address.”
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply, bounded off like a gazelle up the Quai a la Rue Dauphine, and disappeared. Raoul mounted his horse, and both leisurely took their way to the Rue Tiquetonne.
D’Artagnan watched over the youth as if he had been his own son.
They arrived without accident at the Hotel de la Chevrette.