udly, getting off his horse, "and I almost begin to think I am near my
own cows at Pierrefonds."

"I have only one cow," Planchet hastened to say modestly.

"And I have thirty," said Porthos; "or rather, I don't exactly know how
many I have."

When the two cavaliers had entered, Planchet fastened the door behind
them. In the meantime, D'Artagnan, who had dismounted with his usual
agility, inhaled the fresh perfumed air with the delight a Parisian
feels at the sight of green fields and fresh foliage, plucked a piece
of honeysuckle with one hand, and of sweet-briar with the other. Porthos
clawed hold of some peas which were twined round poles stuck into
the ground, and ate, or rather browsed upon them, shells and all: and
Planchet was busily engaged trying to wake up an old and infirm peasant,
who was fast asleep in a shed, lying on a bed of moss, and dressed in
an old stable suit of clothes. The peasant, recognizing Planchet, called
him "the master," to the grocer's great satisfaction. "Stable the horses
well, old fellow, and you shall have something good for yourself," said
Planchet.

"Yes, yes; fine animals they are too," said the peasant. "Oh! they shall
have as much as they like."

"Gently, gently, my man," said D'Artagnan, "we are getting on a little
too fast. A few oats and a good bed--nothing more."

"Some bran and water for my horse," said Porthos, "for it is very warm,
I think."

"Don't be afraid, gentlemen," replied Planchet; "Daddy Celestin is an
old gendarme, who fought at Ivry. He knows all about horses; so come
into the house." And he led the way along a well-sheltered walk, which
crossed a kitchen-garden, then a small paddock, and came out into a
little garden behind the house, the principal front of which, as we have
already noticed, faced the street. As they approached, they could
see, through two open windows on the ground floor, which led into a
sitting-room, the interior of Planchet's residence. This room, softly
lighted by a lamp placed on the table, seemed, from the end of the
garden, like a smiling image of repose, comfort, and happiness. In every
direction where the rays of light fell, whether upon a piece of old
china, or upon an article of furniture shining from excessive neatness,
or upon the weapons hanging against the wall, the soft light was softly
reflected; and its rays seemed to linger everywhere upon something or
another, agreeable to the eye. The lamp which lighted the room, whi