THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 223 ing, the tapestries, and even that geographical chart which Porthos had so fondly studied in his moments of leisure. "It is eleven years ago," cried D'Artagnan. ll Mordioux! it appears to me a century." "And to me but a day," said Athos. "Imagine the joy I experience, my friend, in seeing you there, in pressing your hand, in casting from me sword and poniard, and tasting without mistrust this glass of sherry. Ard, oh! what still further joy it would be if our two friends were there, at the two angles of the tables, and Kaoul, my be- loved Raoul, in the threshold, looking at us with his large eyes, at once so brilliant and so soft." "Yes, yes," said D'Artagnan, much affected, "that is true. I approve particularly of the first part of your thought; it is very pleasant to smile there where we have so legit- imately shuddered at thinking that from one moment or another Mordaunt might appear upon the landing." At this moment the door opened, and D'Artagnan, brave as he was, could not restrain a slight movement of fright. Athos understood him, and smiling: "It is our host," said he, "bringing me a letter." "Yes, my lord," said the good man; "here is a letter for your honor." "Thank yon," said Athos, taking the letter without looking at it. "Tell me, my dear host, if you do not re- member this gentleman?" The old man raised his head, and looked attentively at E ' Artagnan. "No," said he. "It is," said Athos, "one of those friends of whom I have spoken to you, and who lodged here with me eleven years
- ago."
"Oh, but," said the old man, "so many strangers have I lodged here." "But we lodged here on the 30th of January, 1649," , added Athos, believing he should stimulate the lazy memory i of the host by this remark. "That is very possible," replied he, smiling; "but it is so long ago!" and he bowed, and went out. "Thank you," said D'Artagnan; "perform exploits, accomplish revolutions, endeavor to engrave your name in stone or upon brass with strong swords! there is something more rebellious, more hard, more forgetful than iron, brass, or stone, and that is, the brain become old of the letter of lodgings, enriched by his trade; he does not know me. Well, I should have known him. though."
