nchet, I did not know that you
had upstairs--"

"It is Truchen," added Planchet, blushing a little.

"It is whoever you please, my good Planchet; but pardon my rudeness."

"No, no; go up now, gentlemen."

"We will do no such thing," said Athos.

"Oh! madame, having notice, has had time--"

"No, Planchet; farewell!"

"Eh, gentlemen! you would not disoblige me by thus standing on the
staircase, or by going away without having sat down."

"If we had known you had a lady upstairs," replied Athos, with his
customary coolness, "we would have asked permission to pay our respects
to her."

Planchet was so disconcerted by this little extravagance, that he forced
the passage, and himself opened the door to admit the comte and his son.
Truchen was quite dressed: in the costume of the shopkeeper's wife,
rich yet coquettish; German eyes attacking French eyes. She left the
apartment after two courtesies, and went down into the shop--but not
without having listened at the door, to know what Planchet's gentlemen
visitors would say of her. Athos suspected that, and therefore turned
the conversation accordingly. Planchet, on his part, was burning to
give explanations, which Athos avoided. But, as certain tenacities are
stronger than others, Athos was forced to hear Planchet recite his idyls
of felicity, translated into a language more chaste than that of Longus.
So Planchet related how Truchen had charmed the years of his advancing
age, and brought good luck to his business, as Ruth did to Boaz.

"You want nothing now, then, but heirs to your property."

"If I had one he would have three hundred thousand livres," said
Planchet.

"Humph! you must have one, then," said Athos, phlegmatically, "if only
to prevent your little fortune being lost."

This word _little fortune_ placed Planchet in his rank, like the voice
of the sergeant when Planchet was but a _piqueur_ in the regiment of
Piedmont, in which Rochefort had placed him. Athos perceived that the
grocer would marry Truchen, and, in spite of fate, establish a family.
This appeared the more evident to him when he learned that the young man
to whom Planchet was selling the business was her cousin. Having heard
all that was necessary of the happy prospects of the retiring grocer,
"What is M. d'Artagnan about?" said he; "he is not at the Louvre."

"Ah! monsieur le comte, Monsieur d'Artagnan has disappeared."

"Disappeared!" said Athos, in surprise.

"Oh! monsieur, we kno