“I must go; my horse is all in a fret,” said D’Artagnan, with whom the most manifest sign of a lively emotion was the change of ideas in conversation. “Come, comte, how many days longer has Raoul to stay here?”
“Three days at most.”
“And how long will it take you to reach home?”
“Oh! a considerable time,” replied Athos. “I shall not like the idea of being separated too quickly from Raoul. Time will travel too fast of itself to require me to aid it by distance. I shall only make half-stages.”
“And why so, my friend? Nothing is more dull than traveling slowly; and hostelry life does not become a man like you.”
“My friend, I came hither on post-horses; but I wish to purchase two animals of a superior kind. Now, to take them home fresh, it would not be prudent to make them travel more than seven or eight leagues a day.”
“Where is Grimaud?”
“He arrived yesterday morning with Raoul’s appointments; and I have left him to sleep.”
“That is, never to come back again,” D’Artagnan suffered to escape him. “Till we meet again, then, dear Athos—and if you are diligent, I shall embrace you the sooner.” So saying, he put his foot in the stirrup, which Raoul held.
“Farewell!” said the young man, embracing him.