All ready, my master." "You are a capital fellow, Planchet; come on, then, let us sup, and I will go to bed." During supper D'Artagnan observed that Planchet kept rubbing his forehead, as if to facilitate the issue of some idea closely pent within his brain.

He looked with an air of kindness at this worthy companion of former adventures and misadventures, and, clinking glass against glass, "Come, Planchet," said he, "let us see what it is that gives you so much trouble to bring forth.

_Mordioux!_ Speak freely, and quickly." "Well, this is it," replied Planchet: "you appear to me to be going on some expedition or another." "I don't say that I am not." "Then you have some new idea ?" "That is possible, too, Planchet." "Then there will be fresh capital to be ventured?
I will lay down fifty thousand livres upon the idea you are about to carry out." And so saying, Planchet rubbed his hands one against the other with a rapidity evincing great delight.
"Planchet," said D'Artagnan, "there is but one misfortune in it." "And what is that ?" "That the idea is not mine.

I can risk nothing upon it." These words drew a deep sigh from the heart of Planchet.

That Avarice is an ardent counselor; she carries away her man, as Satan did Jesus, to the mountain, and when once she has shown to an unfortunate all the kingdoms of the earth, she is able to repose herself, knowing full well that she has left her companion, Envy, to gnaw at his heart.