what was going on behind him, got out
of the way, smiling kindly at the friend of his master, who thus
found himself freed from the material obstacle which had prevented
his reaching D'Artagnan. Porthos made his sturdy knees crack again in
rising, and crossing the room in two strides, found himself face to face
with his friend, whom he folded to his breast with a force of affection
that seemed to increase with every day. "Ah!" he repeated, "you are
always welcome, dear friend; but just now you are more welcome than
ever."

"But you seem to have the megrims here!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.

Porthos replied by a look expressive of dejection. "Well, then, tell me
all about it, Porthos, my friend, unless it is a secret."

"In the first place," returned Porthos, "you know I have no secrets from
you. This, then, is what saddens me."

"Wait a minute, Porthos; let me first get rid of all this litter of
satin and velvet!"

"Oh, never mind," said Porthos, contemptuously; "it is all trash."

"Trash, Porthos! Cloth at twenty-five livres an ell! gorgeous satin!
regal velvet!"

"Then you think these clothes are--"

"Splendid, Porthos, splendid! I'll wager that you alone in France have
so many; and suppose you never had any more made, and were to live to
be a hundred years of age, which wouldn't astonish me in the very least,
you could still wear a new dress the day of your death, without being
obliged to see the nose of a single tailor from now till then."

Porthos shook his head.

"Come, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "this unnatural melancholy in you
frightens me. My dear Porthos, pray get it out, then. And the sooner the
better."

"Yes, my friend, so I will: if, indeed, it is possible."

"Perhaps you have received bad news from Bracieux?"

"No: they have felled the wood, and it has yielded a third more than the
estimate."

"Then there has been a falling-off in the pools of Pierrefonds?"

"No, my friend: they have been fished, and there is enough left to stock
all the pools in the neighborhood."

"Perhaps your estate at Vallon has been destroyed by an earthquake?"

"No, my friend; on the contrary, the ground was struck with lightning
a hundred paces from the chateau, and a fountain sprung up in a place
entirely destitute of water."

"What in the world _is_ the matter, then?"

"The fact is, I have received an invitation for the _fete_ at Vaux,"
said Porthos, with a lugubrious expression.

"Well! do you complain o