husband had disappeared one fine morning, after
furtively selling certain choice lots of wine, carrying away with him
money and jewels. He was thought to be dead; his wife, especially, who
cherished the pleasing idea that she was a widow, stoutly maintained
that death had taken him. Therefore, after the connection had continued
three years, carefully fostered by D'Artagnan, who found his bed and his
mistress more agreeable every year, each doing credit to the other,
the mistress conceived the extraordinary desire of becoming a wife and
proposed to D'Artagnan that he should marry her.

"Ah, fie!" D'Artagnan replied. "Bigamy, my dear! Come now, you don't
really wish it?"

"But he is dead; I am sure of it."

"He was a very contrary fellow and might come back on purpose to have us
hanged."

"All right; if he comes back you will kill him, you are so skillful and
so brave."

"Peste! my darling! another way of getting hanged."

"So you refuse my request?"

"To be sure I do--furiously!"

The pretty landlady was desolate. She would have taken D'Artagnan not
only as her husband, but as her God, he was so handsome and had so
fierce a mustache.

Then along toward the fourth year came the expedition of Franche-Comte.
D'Artagnan was assigned to it and made his preparations to depart. There
were then great griefs, tears without end and solemn promises to remain
faithful--all of course on the part of the hostess. D'Artagnan was too
grand to promise anything; he purposed only to do all that he could to
increase the glory of his name.

As to that, we know D'Artagnan's courage; he exposed himself freely to
danger and while charging at the head of his company he received a ball
through the chest which laid him prostrate on the field of battle. He
had been seen falling from his horse and had not been seen to rise;
every one, therefore, believed him to be dead, especially those to whom
his death would give promotion. One believes readily what he wishes
to believe. Now in the army, from the division-generals who desire the
death of the general-in-chief, to the soldiers who desire the death of
the corporals, all desire some one's death.

But D'Artagnan was not a man to let himself be killed like that.
After he had remained through the heat of the day unconscious on the
battle-field, the cool freshness of the night brought him to himself.
He gained a village, knocked at the door of the finest house and was
received as the wounded