At the moment when Planchet, according to his daily custom, with the back of his pen, erased another day, D'Artagnan kicked the door with his foot, and the blow made his steel spur jingle.

"Oh! good Lord!" cried Planchet.

The worthy grocer could say no more; he had just perceived his partner.

D'Artagnan entered with a bent back and a dull eye: the Gascon had an idea with regard to Planchet.
"Good God!" thought the grocer, looking earnestly at the traveler, "he looks sad!" The musketeer sat down.
"My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Planchet, with a horrible palpitation of the heart.

"Here you are! and your health ?" "Tolerably good, Planchet, tolerably good!" said D'Artagnan, with a profound sigh.
"You have not been wounded, I hope ?" "Phew!" "Ah, I see," continued Planchet, more and more alarmed, "the expedition has been a trying one ?" "Yes," said D'Artagnan.