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would not, perhaps, be willing.”

      “Decidedly, my dear Athos,” said d’Artagnan, “I should like better not to risk anything.”

      “That’s a pity,” said Athos, coolly. “The Englishman is overflowing with pistoles. Good Lord, try one throw! One throw is soon made!”

      “And if I lose?”

      “You will win.”

      “But if I lose?”

      “Well, you will surrender the harnesses.”

      “Have with you for one throw!” said d’Artagnan.

      Athos went in quest of the Englishman, whom he found in the stable, examining the harnesses with a greedy eye. The opportunity was good. He proposed the conditions—the two harnesses, either against one horse or a hundred pistoles. The Englishman calculated fast; the two harnesses were worth three hundred pistoles. He consented.

      D’Artagnan threw the dice with a trembling hand, and turned up the number three; his paleness terrified Athos, who, however, consented himself with saying, “That’s a sad throw, comrade; you will have the horses fully equipped, monsieur.”

      The Englishman, quite triumphant, did not even give himself the trouble to shake the dice. He threw them on the table without looking at them, so sure was he of victory; d’Artagnan turned aside to conceal his ill humor.

      “Hold, hold, hold!” said Athos, wit his quiet tone; “that throw of the dice is extraordinary. I have not seen such a one four times in my life. Two aces!”

      The Englishman looked, and was seized with astonishment. D’Artagnan looked, and was seized with pleasure.

      “Yes,” continued Athos, “four times only; once at the house of Monsieur Crequy; another time at my own house in the country, in my chateau at—when I had a chateau; a third time at Monsieur de Treville’s where it surprised us all; and the fourth time at a cabaret, where it fell to my lot, and where I lost a hundred louis and a supper on it.”

      “Then Monsieur takes his horse back again,” said the Englishman.

      “Certainly,” said d’Artagnan.

      “Then there is no revenge?”

      “Our conditions said, ‘No revenge,’ you will please to recollect.”

      “That is true; the horse shall be restored to your lackey, monsieur.”

      “A moment,” said Athos; “with your permission, monsieur, I wish to speak a word with my friend.”

      “Say on.”

      Athos drew d’Artagnan aside.

      “Well, Tempter, what more do you want with me?” said d’Artagnan. “You want me to throw again, do you not?”

      “No, I would wish you to reflect.”

      “On what?”

      “You mean to take your horse?”

      “Without doubt.”

      “You are wrong, then. I would take the hundred pistoles. You know you have staked the harnesses against the horse or a hundred pistoles, at your choice.”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, then, I repeat, you are wrong. What is the use of one horse for us two? I could not ride behind. We should look like the two sons of Anmon, who had lost their brother. You cannot think of humiliating me by prancing along by my side on that magnificent charger. For my part, I should not hesitate a moment; I should take the hundred pistoles. We want money for our return to Paris.”

      “I am much attached to that horse, Athos.”

      “And there again you are wrong. A horse slips and injures a joint; a horse stumbles and breaks his knees to the bone; a horse eats out of a manger in which a glandered horse has eaten. There is a horse, while on the contrary, the hundred pistoles feed their master.”

      “But how shall we get back?”

      “Upon our lackey’s horses, PARDIEU. Anybody may see by our bearing that we are people of condition.”

      “Pretty figures we shall cut on ponies while Aramis and Porthos caracole on their steeds.”

      “Aramis! Porthos!” cried Athos, and laughed aloud.

      “What is it?” asked d’Artagnan, who did not at all comprehend the hilarity of his friend.

      “Nothing, nothing! Go on!”

      “Your advice, then?”

      “To take the hundred pistoles, d’Artagnan. With the hundred pistoles we can live well to the end of the month. We have undergone a great deal of fatigue, remember, and a little rest will do no harm.”

      “I rest? Oh, no, Athos. Once in Paris, I shall prosecute my search for that unfortunate woman!”

      “Well, you may be assured that your horse will not be half so serviceable to you for that purpose as good golden louis. Take the hundred pistoles, my friend; take the hundred pistoles!”

      D’Artagnan only required one reason to be satisfied. This last reason appeared convincing. Besides, he feared that by resisting longer he should appear selfish in the eyes of Athos. He acquiesced, therefore, and chose the hundred pistoles, which the Englishman paid down on the spot.

      They then determined to depart. Peace with the landlord, in addition to Athos’s old horse, cost six pistoles. D’Artagnan and Athos took the nags of Planchet and Grimaud, and the two lackeys started on foot, carrying the saddles on their heads.

      However ill our two friends were mounted, they were soon far in advance of their servants, and arrived at Creveccoeur. From a distance they perceived Aramis, seated in a melancholy manner at his window, looking out, like Sister Anne, at the dust in the horizon.

      “HOLA, Aramis! What the devil are you doing there?” cried the two friends.

      “Ah, is that you, d’Artagnan, and you, Athos?” said the young man. “I was reflecting upon the rapidity with which the blessings of this world leave us. My English horse, which has just disappeared amid a cloud of dust, has furnished me with a living image of the fragility of the things of the earth. Life itself may be resolved into three words: ERAT, EST, FUIT.”

      “Which means—” said d’Artagnan, who began to suspect the truth.

      “Which means that I have just been duped-sixty louis for a horse which by the manner of his gait can do at least five leagues an hour.”

      D’Artagnan and Athos laughed aloud.

      “My dear d’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “don’t be too angry with me, I beg. Necessity has no law; besides, I am the person punished, as that rascally horsedealer has robbed me of fifty louis, at least. Ah, you fellows are good managers! You ride on our lackey’s horses, and have your own gallant steeds led along carefully by hand, at short stages.”

      At the same instant a market cart, which some minutes before had appeared upon the Amiens road, pulled up at the inn, and Planchet and Grimaud came out of it with the saddles on their heads. The cart was returning empty to Paris, and the two lackeys had agreed, for their transport, to slake the wagoner’s thirst along the route.

      “What is this?” said Aramis, on seeing them arrive. “Nothing but saddles?”

      “Now do you understand?” said Athos.

      “My friends, that’s exactly like me! I retained my harness by instinct. HOLA, Bazin! Bring my new saddle and carry it along with those of these gentlemen.”

      “And what have you done with your ecclesiastics?” asked d’Artagnan.

      “My dear fellow, I invited them to a dinner the next

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