LOUISE DE LA YALLLEEE. 39 large tiled roof. Two of the windows, which were quite dark, looked upon the street. Between the two a small door, with a porch supported by a couple of pillars, formed the entrance to the house. The door was gained by a step raised a little from the ground. Planchet got off his horse, as if he intended to knock at the door; but on second thought, he took hold of his horse by the bridle, and led it about thirty paces further on, his two companions follow- ing him. He then advanced about another thirty paces, until he arrived at the door of a cart-house lighted by an iron grating, and, lifting up a wooden latch, pushed open one of the folding-doors. He entered first, leading his horse after him by the bridle, into a small courtyard, where an odor met them which revealed their close vicinity to a stable. "That smells all right," said Porthos loudly, getting off his horse, "and I almost begin to think I am near my own cows at Pierrefonds." "I have only one cow," Planchet hastened to say modestly. "And I have thirty," said Porthos; "or rather, I don't exactly know how many I have." When the two cavaliers had entered Planchet fastened the door behind them. In the meantime, D'Artagnan, who had dismounted with his usual agility, inhaled the fresh perfumed air with the delight a Parisian feels at the sight of green fields and fresh foliage, plucked a piece of honey- suckle with one hand, and of sweetbrier with the other. Porthos had laid hold of some pease which were twined round poles stuck into the ground, and ate, or rather browsed upon them, shells and all, and Planchet was busily engaged trying to wake up an old and infirm peasant, who was fast asleep in a shed, lying on a bed of moss, and dressed in an old stable suit of clothes. The peasant, recognizing Planchet, called him "the master," to the grocer's great satisfaction. "Stable the horses well, old fellow, and you shall have something good for yourself," said Planchet. "Yes, yes; fine animals they are, too," said the peasant. "Oh ! they shall have as much as they like." "Gently, my man," said D'Artagnan, "we are getting on a little too fast!^ A few oats, and a good bed — nothing more." "Some bran and water for my horse," said Porthos, "for it is very warm, I think." "Don't be afraid, gentlemen," replied Planchet; "Daddy Celestin is an old gendarme who fought at Ivry. He knows
