the weight of the walls. As soon as they reached Baisemeaux's quarters:
"Let us proceed to business, my dear governor," said Aramis.
"Alas!" replied Baisemeaux
"You have to ask me for my receipt for one hundred and fifty thousand livres," said the bishop.
"And to pay over the first third of the sum," added the poor governor, with a sigh, taking three steps toward his iron strong-box.
"Here is the receipt," said Aramis.
"And here is the money," returned Baisemeaux, with a threefold sigh.
"The order instructed me only to give a receipt; it said nothing about receiving the money," rejoined Aramis.
"Adieu, Monsieur le Gouverneur."
And he departed, leaving Baisemeaux almost more than stifled with joy and surprise at this regal present so liberally bestowed by the confessor-extraordinary to the Bastile.
CHAPTER II.
HOW MOUSTON HAD BECOME FATTER WITHOUT GIVING PORTHOS NOTICE THEREOF, AND OF THE TROUBLES WHICH CONSEQUENTLY BEFELL THAT WORTHY GENTLEMAN.
SINCE the departure of Athos for Blois, Porthos and D'Artagnan were seldom together. One was occupied with harassing duties for the king, the other had been making many purchases of furniture which he intended to forward to his estate, and by aid of which he hoped to establish in his various residences something of that court luxury which he had witnessed in all its dazzling brightness in his majesty's society. D'Artagnan, ever faithful, one morning, during an interval of service, thought about Porthos, and being uneasy at not having heard anything of him for a fortnight, directed his steps toward his hotel, and pounced upon him just as he was getting up. The worthy baron had a pensive—nay, more than pensive—a melancholy air. He was sitting on his bed, only half-dressed, and with legs dangling over the edge, contemplating a host of garments, which, with their fringes, lace, embroidery, and slashes of ill-assorted hues, were strewed all over the floor. Porthos,
