He was already on the high road, frightening the birds in the hedges, listening to the livres chinking and dancing in his leather pocket, at every step; and, let us confess it, every time that D'Artagnan found himself in such conditions, tenderness was not his dominant vice.

"Come," said he, "I cannot think the expedition a very dangerous one; and it will fall out with my voyage as with that piece M.Monk took me to see in London, which was called, I think, 'Much Ado about Nothing.'".