epeated Raoul.

"It is disgusting, but so it is. These Parisian cockneys are sometimes
real anthropophagi. I cannot conceive how men, Christians, can make such
speculations."

"That is true."

"As for myself," continued D'Artagnan, "if I inhabited that house, on
days of execution I would shut it up to the very keyholes; but I do not
inhabit it."

"And you let the garret for five hundred livres?"

"To the ferocious cabaretier, who sub-lets it. I said, then, fifteen
hundred livres."

"The natural interest of money," said Raoul,--"five per cent."

"Exactly so. I then have left the side of the house at the back,
store-rooms, and cellars, inundated every winter, two hundred livres;
and the garden, which is very fine, well planted, well shaded under the
walls and the portal of Saint-Gervais-Saint-Protais, thirteen hundred
livres."

"Thirteen hundred livres! why, that is royal!"

"This is the whole history. I strongly suspect some canon of the parish
(these canons are all as rich as Croesus)--I suspect some canon of
having hired the garden to take his pleasure in. The tenant has given
the name of M. Godard. That is either a false name or a real name;
if true, he is a canon; if false, he is some unknown; but of what
consequence is it to me? he always pays in advance. I had also an idea
just now, when I met you, of buying a house in the Place Baudoyer, the
back premises of which join my garden, and would make a magnificent
property. Your dragoons interrupted my calculations. But come, let
us take the Rue de la Vannerie: that will lead us straight to M.
Planchet's." D'Artagnan mended his pace, and conducted Raoul to
Planchet's dwelling, a chamber of which the grocer had given up to his
old master. Planchet was out, but the dinner was ready. There was a
remains of military regularity and punctuality preserved in the grocer's
household. D'Artagnan returned to the subject of Raoul's future.

"Your father brings you up rather strictly?" said he.

"Justly, monsieur le chevalier."

"Oh, yes, I know Athos is just, but close, perhaps?"

"A royal hand, Monsieur d'Artagnan."

"Well, never want, my boy! If ever you stand in need of a few pistoles,
the old musketeer is at hand."

"My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan!"

"Do you play a little?"

"Never."

"Successful with the ladies, then?--Oh, my little Aramis! That, my dear
friend, costs even more than play. It is true we fight when we lose,
that is a compensation. Bah! that