“Under the shed yonder, don’t you see a horse?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you see how his back is laden?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Don’t you see your lad talking with the postilion?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“Well, you know the name of that lad, because he is your own. Call him.”
“Abdon! Abdon!” vociferated Planchet, from the window.
“Bring the horse!” shouted D’Artagnan.
“Bring the horse!” screamed Planchet.