Truth to say, from the moment he crossed this new steed, it was no longer D'Artagnan who was travelling,--it was a good man clothed in an iron-gray _justaucorps_, brown _haut-de-chausses_, holding the medium between a priest and a layman; that which brought him nearest to the churchman was, that D'Artagnan had placed on his head a _calotte_ of threadbare velvet, and over the _calotte_, a large black hat; no more sword, a stick hung by a cord to his wrist, but to which, he promised himself, as an unexpected auxiliary, to join, upon occasion, a good dagger, ten inches long, concealed under his cloak.

The _bidet_ purchased at Chateaubriand completed the metamorphosis; it was called, or rather D'Artagnan called if, Furet (ferret).
"If I have changed Zephyr into Furet," said D'Artagnan, "I must make some diminutive or other of my own name.

So, instead of D'Artagnan, I will be Agnan, short; that is a concession which I naturally owe to my gray coat, my round hat, and my rusty _calotte_." Monsieur d'Artagnan traveled, then, pretty easily upon Furet, who ambled like a true butter-woman's pad, and who, with his amble, managed cheerfully about twelve leagues a day, upon four spindle-shanks, of which the practiced eye of D'Artagnan had appreciated the strength and safety beneath the thick mass of hair which covered them.

Jogging along, the traveler took notes, studied the country, which he traversed reserved and silent, ever seeking the most plausible pretext for reaching Belle-Ile-en-Mer, and for seeing everything without arousing suspicion.

In this manner, he was enabled to convince himself of the importance the event assumed in proportion as he drew near to it.