great gentlemen. Such, however, is a woman's nature; they are anxious
to possess what they have not got, and disdain it as soon as it is
acquired. After having rendered this service to his friend Planchet,
D'Artagnan said in a low tone of voice to Porthos: "That is a very
beautiful ring you have on your finger."

"It is worth three hundred pistoles," said Porthos.

"Madame Truchen will remember you better if you leave her that ring,"
replied D'Artagnan, a suggestion which Porthos seemed to hesitate to
adopt.

"You think it is not beautiful enough, perhaps," said the musketeer. "I
understand your feelings; a great lord such as you would not think of
accepting the hospitality of an old servant without paying him most
handsomely for it: but I am sure that Planchet is too good-hearted a
fellow to remember that you have an income of a hundred thousand francs
a year."

"I have more than half a mind," said Porthos, flattered by the remark,
"to make Madame Truchen a present of my little farm at Bracieux; it has
twelve acres."

"It is too much, my good Porthos, too much just at present... Keep it
for a future occasion." He then took the ring off Porthos's finger, and
approaching Truchen, said to her:--"Madame, monsieur le baron hardly
knows how to entreat you, out of your regard for him, to accept this
little ring. M. du Vallon is one of the most generous and discreet
men of my acquaintance. He wished to offer you a farm that he has at
Bracieux, but I dissuaded him from it."

"Oh!" said Truchen, looking eagerly at the diamond.

"Monsieur le baron!" exclaimed Planchet, quite overcome.

"My good friend," stammered out Porthos, delighted at having been so
well represented by D'Artagnan. These several exclamations, uttered at
the same moment, made quite a pathetic winding-up of a day which might
have finished in a very ridiculous manner. But D'Artagnan was there,
and, on every occasion, wheresoever D'Artagnan exercised any control,
matters ended only just in the very way he wished and willed. There were
general embracings; Truchen, whom the baron's munificence had restored
to her proper position, very timidly, and blushing all the while,
presented her forehead to the great lord with whom she had been on such
very pretty terms the evening before. Planchet himself was overcome by
a feeling of genuine humility. Still, in the same generosity of
disposition, Porthos would have emptied his pockets into the hands of
the cook an