“Because I have lately had my chateau of Pierrefonds which was gray with age, plastered white.”
“Humph!” said D’Artagnan, “and white is more cheerful.”
“Yes, but it is less august, as Aramis tells me. Fortunately there are dealers in black as well as white. I will have Pierrefonds replastered in black; that’s all there is about it. If gray is handsome, you understand, my friend, black must be superb.”
“Dame!” said D’Artagnan, “that appears logical.”
“Were you never at Vannes, D’Artagnan?”
“Never.”
“Then you know nothing of the city?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, look!” said Porthos, raising himself in his stirrups, which made the fore-quarters of his horse bend sadly—“do you see that corner, in the sun, yonder?”
“Yes, I see it plainly.”