du Vallon, in truth, possesses the most subtle and amiable mind that I know.

But there is one kind of pleasure you have forgotten, it appears to me." "What is that, monsieur ?" asked Mousqueton, with anxiety.
"The material pleasures." Mousqueton colored.

"What do you mean by that, monsieur ?" said he, casting down his eyes.
"I mean the table--good wine--evenings occupied in passing the bottle." "Ah, monsieur, we don't reckon those pleasures,--we practice them every day." "My brave Mousqueton," resumed D'Artagnan, "pardon me, but I was so absorbed in your charming recital that I have forgotten the principal object of our conversation, which was to learn what M.le Vicaire-General d'Herblay could have to write to your master about." "That is true, monsieur," said Mousqueton; "the pleasures have misled us.

Well, monsieur, this is the whole affair." "I am all attention, Mousqueton." "On Wednesday--" "The day of the rustic pleasures ?" "Yes--a letter arrived; he received it from my hands.

I had recognized the writing." "Well ?" Monseigneur read it and cried out, "Quick, my horses! my arms!'" "Oh, good Lord! then it was for some duel ?" said D'Artagnan.
"No, monsieur, there were only these words: 'Dear Porthos, set out, if you would wish to arrive before the Equinox.