The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [159]
“No, Aramis, I was expecting several gentlemen of the neighborhood who have just sent word to me that they cannot come. You two shall take their places and I shall lose nothing by the exchange. Ho, Mousqueton, bring up some chairs and double the number of bottles.”
After ten minutes of hearty eating, suddenly Athos asked: “Do you know what we are eating here?”
“I,” said D’Artagnan, “am eating veau piqué aux cardons et à la moelle and I must confess I have always enjoyed veal stuffed with prawns and marrow.”
“I,” said Porthos, “am enjoying some filets d’agneau, the best lamb I have tasted in many moons.”
“I,” said Aramis, “am savoring blanc de volaille; a more succulent breast of chicken I never tasted.”
“You’re all mistaken, gentlemen,” Athos announced gravely, “you are eating horseflesh.”
“What?—We are eating what?” D’Artagnan asked in bewilderment.
“Horseflesh!” Aramis repeated in disgust.
Porthos alone made no reply.
“Ay, Porthos, horseflesh, that’s what we’re eating, isn’t it?” Athos went on. “And the saddle as well, probably.”
“No, gentlemen, I kept the harness,” Porthos confessed.
“Upon my word,” Aramis declared, “we are all alike. Any one might think we had tipped each other the wink to dispose of our horses!”
“Ah well!” Porthos sighed. “That horse made my visitors ashamed of theirs and I could not bear to humiliate them.”
“And I suppose your duchess is still taking the waters, too, eh, Porthos?” D’Artagnan asked.
“Yes, unfortunately she is.” Porthos looked around the table. “I had to get rid of the horse you gave me, D’Artagnan. As a matter of fact the Governor of the province—one of the guests I expected to dinner this evening—took a fancy to my horse so I gave it away.”
“You gave it away?”
“God help us, yes, gave is the word. That animal was worth at least one hundred and fifty louis but the niggardly fellow would only pay me eighty.”
“Without the saddle?” Aramis asked.
“Yes, without the saddle.”
“You will observe, gentlemen,” Athos declared, “that our friend Porthos still made the best bargain of any of us.”
A roar of laughter rose vociferously to the rafters, leaving poor Porthos utterly at a loss; but when the reason for the general hilarity was made clear to him, he joined in noisily as usual.
“Well, thank Heaven we are all in funds!” D’Artagnan said.
“Not I,” Athos replied. “I found the Spanish wine at the inn where Aramis was staying so excellent that I forwarded six hampers of it—sixty bottles in all—in the cart with our lackeys. This has considerably depleted my resources.”
“Don’t count on me!” Aramis warned. “You must realize that I have given practically my last sou to the church of Montdidier and to the Jesuits of Amiens. Remember too that I have assumed obligations which I must keep, namely, Masses to be said for myself and for you, too, gentlemen. I am confident these will prove to be of the greatest benefit to us.”
“As for me,” said Porthos, “don’t you suppose my sprain cost me a considerable sum? Don’t forget either that Mousqueton was wounded. I had to call in the surgeon twice a day and he charged me double because that idiot of a Mousqueton had managed to get himself shot in that portion of his anatomy which is usually shown only to apothecaries. I warned the lad roundly never to get himself wounded there again.”
“Indeed, indeed!” said Athos, exchanging a smile with D’Artagnan and Aramis, “I see you behaved most generously toward the poor fellow. You are a good master, Porthos.”
“In brief,” Porthos replied, “after paying my bill, I shall have only thirty crowns left at most.”
“I, roughly a dozen pistoles,” Aramis volunteered.
“In other words we are as rich as Croesus!” said Athos. “By the way, D’Artagnan, how much have you still left of your hundred pistoles?”
“My hundred pistoles! Good Lord, I gave you fifty of them.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did, on my word as a—”
“Oh, yes, now I remember.”
“And I paid the innkeeper six pistoles.”
“The scoundrel! Why on earth pay him six pistoles?”
“You told me