ps towards his iron strong-box.

"Here is the receipt," said Aramis.

"And here is the money," returned Baisemeaux, with a threefold sigh.

"The order instructed me only to give a receipt; it said nothing about
receiving the money," rejoined Aramis. "Adieu, monsieur le governeur!"

And he departed, leaving Baisemeaux almost more than stifled with
joy and surprise at this regal present so liberally bestowed by the
confessor extraordinary to the Bastile.

Chapter II. How Mouston Had Become Fatter without Giving Porthos Notice
Thereof, and of the Troubles Which Consequently Befell that Worthy
Gentleman.

Since the departure of Athos for Blois, Porthos and D'Artagnan were
seldom together. One was occupied with harassing duties for the king,
the other had been making many purchases of furniture which he intended
to forward to his estate, and by aid of which he hoped to establish in
his various residences something of the courtly luxury he had witnessed
in all its dazzling brightness in his majesty's society. D'Artagnan,
ever faithful, one morning during an interval of service thought about
Porthos, and being uneasy at not having heard anything of him for a
fortnight, directed his steps towards his hotel, and pounced upon him
just as he was getting up. The worthy baron had a pensive--nay,
more than pensive--melancholy air. He was sitting on his bed, only
half-dressed, and with legs dangling over the edge, contemplating a host
of garments, which with their fringes, lace, embroidery, and slashes
of ill-assorted hues, were strewed all over the floor. Porthos, sad and
reflective as La Fontaine's hare, did not observe D'Artagnan's entrance,
which was, moreover, screened at this moment by M. Mouston, whose
personal corpulency, quite enough at any time to hide one man from
another, was effectually doubled by a scarlet coat which the intendant
was holding up for his master's inspection, by the sleeves, that he
might the better see it all over. D'Artagnan stopped at the threshold
and looked in at the pensive Porthos and then, as the sight of the
innumerable garments strewing the floor caused mighty sighs to heave the
bosom of that excellent gentleman, D'Artagnan thought it time to put
an end to these dismal reflections, and coughed by way of announcing
himself.

"Ah!" exclaimed Porthos, whose countenance brightened with joy; "ah! ah!
Here is D'Artagnan. I shall then get hold of an idea!"

At these words Mouston, doubting