e here," said D'Artagnan. "It is a wretched bed, but
that is not my fault, and it is you who have chosen it." With these
words he drew in his turn and crossed swords with his adversary.

He had to contend against a strong wrist, but his agility was superior
to all force. The Swiss received two wounds and was not aware of it,
by reason of the cold; but suddenly feebleness, occasioned by loss of
blood, obliged him to sit down.

"There!" said: D'Artagnan, "what did I tell you? Fortunately, you won't
be laid up more than a fortnight. Remain here and I will send you your
clothes by the boy. Good-by! Oh, by the way, you'd better take lodging
in the Rue Montorgueil at the Chat Qui Pelote. You will be well fed
there, if the hostess remains the same. Adieu."

Thereupon he returned in a lively mood to his room and sent to the
Swiss the things that belonged to him. The boy found him sitting where
D'Artagnan had left him, still overwhelmed by the coolness of his
adversary.

The boy, the hostess, and all the house had the same regard for
D'Artagnan that one would have for Hercules should he return to earth to
repeat his twelve labors.

But when he was alone with the hostess he said: "Now, pretty Madeleine,
you know the difference between a Swiss and a gentleman. As for you,
you have acted like a barmaid. So much the worse for you, for by such
conduct you have lost my esteem and my patronage. I have driven away
the Swiss to humiliate you, but I shall lodge here no longer. I will not
sleep where I must scorn. Ho, there, boy! Have my valise carried to the
Muid d'Amour, Rue des Bourdonnais. Adieu, madame."

In saying these words D'Artagnan appeared at the same time majestic and
grieved. The hostess threw herself at his feet, asked his pardon and
held him back with a sweet violence. What more need be said? The spit
turned, the stove roared, the pretty Madeleine wept; D'Artagnan felt
himself invaded by hunger, cold and love. He pardoned, and having
pardoned he remained.

And this explains how D'Artagnan had quarters in the Rue Tiquetonne, at
the Hotel de la Chevrette.

D'Artagnan then returned home in thoughtful mood, finding a somewhat
lively pleasure in carrying Mazarin's bag of money and thinking of that
fine diamond which he had once called his own and which he had seen on
the minister's finger that night.

"Should that diamond ever fall into my hands again," he reflected, "I
would turn it at once into money; I would buy wi