thanks," said D'Artagnan, who, as he grew
older, had become polite to a degree. Drawing Raoul along, he directed
his course rapidly in the direction of La Greve. Without that great
experience musketeers have of a crowd, to which were joined an
irresistible strength of wrist, and an uncommon suppleness of shoulders,
our two travelers would not have arrived at their place of destination.
They followed the line of the Quai, which they had gained on quitting
the Rue Saint-Honore, where they left Athos. D'Artagnan went first; his
elbow, his wrist, his shoulder formed three wedges which he knew how to
insinuate with skill into the groups, to make them split and separate
like firewood. He made use sometimes of the hilt of his sword as an
additional help: introducing it between ribs that were too rebellious,
making it take the part of a lever or crowbar, to separate husband from
wife, uncle from nephew, and brother from brother. And all this was done
so naturally, and with such gracious smiles, that people must have had
ribs of bronze not to cry thank you when the wrist made its play, or
hearts of diamond not to be enchanted when such a bland smile enlivened
the lips of the musketeer. Raoul, following his friend, cajoled the
women who admired his beauty, pushed back the men who felt the rigidity
of his muscles, and both opened, thanks to these maneuvers, the compact
and muddy tide of the populace. They arrived in sight of the two
gibbets, from which Raoul turned away his eyes in disgust. As for
D'Artagnan, he did not even see them; his house with its gabled roof,
its windows crowded with the curious, attracted and even absorbed all
the attention he was capable of. He distinguished in the Place and
around the houses a good number of musketeers on leave, who, some with
women, others with friends, awaited the crowning ceremony. What rejoiced
him above all was to see that his tenant, the cabaretier, was so busy he
hardly knew which way to turn. Three lads could not supply the drinkers.
They filled the shop, the chambers, and the court, even. D'Artagnan
called Raoul's attention to this concourse, adding: "The fellow will
have no excuse for not paying his rent. Look at those drinkers, Raoul,
one would say they were jolly companions. Mordioux! why, there is no
room anywhere!" D'Artagnan, however, contrived to catch hold of the
master by the corner of his apron, and to make himself known to him.

"Ah, monsieur le chevalier," said the ca