“Truly?”

“Honor!  Luckily for the rascal, for I should have left him dead on the spot, I assure you.”

“And what has became of him?”

“Oh, I don’t know; he had enough, and set off without waiting for the rest.  But you, my dear d’Artagnan, what has happened to you?”

“So that this strain of the knee,” continued d’Artagnan, “my dear Porthos, keeps you in bed?”

“My God, that’s all.  I shall be about again in a few days.”

“Why did you not have yourself conveyed to Paris?  You must be cruelly bored here.”

“That was my intention; but, my dear friend, I have one thing to confess to you.”

“What’s that?”

“It is that as I was cruelly bored, as you say, and as I had the seventy-five pistoles in my pocket which you had distributed to me, in order to amuse myself I invited a gentleman who was traveling this way to walk up, and proposed a cast of dice.  He accepted my challenge, and, my faith, my seventy-five pistoles passed from my pocket to his, without reckoning my horse, which he won into the bargain.  But you, my dear d’Artagnan?”

“What can you expect, my dear Porthos; a man is not privileged in all ways,” said d’Artagnan.  “You know the proverb ’Unlucky at play, lucky in love.’  You are too fortunate in your love for play not to take its revenge.  What consequence can the reverses of fortune be to you?  Have you not, happy rogue that you are—­ have you not your duchess, who cannot fail to come to your aid?”

“Well, you see, my dear d’Artagnan, with what ill luck I play,” replied Porthos, with the most careless air in the world.  “I wrote to her to send me fifty louis or so, of which I stood absolutely in need on account of my accident.”

“Well?”

“Well, she must be at her country seat, for she has not answered me.”

“Truly?”

“No; so I yesterday addressed another epistle to her, still more pressing than the first.  But you are here, my dear fellow, let us speak of you.  I confess I began to be very uneasy on your account.”

“But your host behaves very well toward you, as it appears, my dear Porthos,” said d’Artagnan, directing the sick man’s attention to the full stewpans and the empty bottles.

“So, so,” replied Porthos.  “Only three or four days ago the impertinent jackanapes gave me his bill, and I was forced to turn both him and his bill out of the door; so that I am here something in the fashion of a conqueror, holding my position, as it were, my conquest.  So you see, being in constant fear of being forced from that position, I am armed to the teeth.”

“And yet,” said d’Artagnan, laughing, “it appears to me that from time to time you must make SORTIES.”  And he again pointed to the bottles and the stewpans.

“Not I, unfortunately!” said Porthos.  “This miserable strain confines me to my bed; but Mousqueton forages, and brings in provisions.  Friend Mousqueton, you see that we have a reinforcement, and we must have an increase of supplies.”