The Vicomte de Bragelonne. Alexandre Dumas

which he checked immediately he experienced it, received Porthos, therefore, with a respect mingled with the most tender cordiality. Porthos, who was a little cold and stiff in his manners at first, on account of the social difference which existed at that period between a baron and a grocer, soon began to get a little softened when he perceived so much good-feeling and so many kind attentions in Planchet. He was particularly touched by the liberty which was permitted him to plunge his large hands into the boxes of dried fruits and preserves, into the sacks of nuts and almonds, and into the drawers full of sweetmeats. So that, notwithstanding Planchet's pressing invitations to go upstairs to the entresol, he chose as his favorite seat, during the evening which he had to spend at Planchet's house, the shop itself, where his fingers could always find whatever his nose had first detected for him. The delicious figs from Provence, filberts from the forest, Tours plums, were subjects of his interrupted attention for five consecutive hours. His teeth, like millstones, cracked heaps of nuts, the shells of which were scattered all over the floor, where they were trampled by every one who went in and out of the shop; Porthos pulled from the stalk with his lips, at one mouthful, bunches of the rich Muscatel raisins with their beautiful bloom and a half-pound of which passed at one gulp from his mouth to his stomach. In one of the corners of the shop, Planchet's assistants, crouching down in a fright, looked at each other without venturing to open their lips. They did not know who Porthos was, for they had never seen him before. The race of those Titans, who had worn the cuirasses of Hugues Capet, Philip Augustus and Francis the First, had already begun to disappear. They could not help thinking he might possibly be the ogre of the fairytale, who was going to turn the whole contents of Planchet's shop into his insatiable stomach, and that, too, without in the slightest degree displacing the barrels and chests that were in it. Cracking, munching, chewing, nibbling, sucking, and swallowing, Porthos occasionally said to the grocer:

      "You do a very good business here, friend Planchet."

      "He will very soon have none at all to do, if this continues," grumbled the foreman, who had Planchet's word that he should be his successor. And, in his despair, he approached Porthos, who blocked up the whole of the passage leading from the back shop to the shop itself. He hoped that Porthos would rise, and that this movement would distract his devouring ideas.

      "What do you want, my man?" asked Porthos, very affably.

      "I should like to pass you, monsieur, if it is not troubling you too much."

      "Very well," said Porthos, "it does not trouble me in the least."

      At the same moment he took hold of the young fellow by the waistband, lifted him off the ground, and placed him very gently on the other side, smiling all the while with the same affable expression. As soon as Porthos had placed him on the ground, the lad's legs so shook under him that he fell back upon some sacks of corks. But noticing the giant's gentleness of manner, he ventured again, and said:

      "Ah, monsieur! pray be careful."

      "What about?" inquired Porthos.

      "You are positively putting fire into your body."

      "How is that, my good fellow?" said Porthos.

      "All those things are very heating to the system."

      "Which?"

      "Raisins, nuts and almonds."

      "Yes; but if raisins, nuts and almonds are heating—"

      "There is no doubt at all of it, monsieur."

      "Honey is very cooling," said Porthos, stretching out his hand toward a small barrel of honey which was opened, and he plunged the scoop with which the wants of the customers were supplied into it, and swallowed a good half-pound at one gulp.

      "I must trouble you for some water now, my man," said Porthos.

      "In a pail, monsieur?" asked the lad, simply.

      "No, in a water-bottle; that will be quite enough;" and raising the bottle to his mouth, as a trumpeter does his trumpet, he emptied the bottle at a single draught.

      Planchet was moved in all the sentiments which correspond to the fibers of propriety and self-love. However, a worthy representative of the hospitality which prevailed in early days, he feigned to be talking very earnestly with D'Artagnan, and incessantly repeated:—"Ah! monsieur, what a happiness! what an honor!"

      "What time shall we have supper, Planchet?" inquired Porthos; "I feel hungry."

      The foreman clasped his hands together. The two others got under the counters, fearing that Porthos might have a taste for human flesh.

      "We shall only take a sort of snack here," said D'Artagnan; "and when we get to Planchet's country-seat, we shall have supper."

      "Ah! ah! so we are going to your country-house, Planchet," said Porthos; "so much the better."

      "You overwhelm me, Monsieur le Baron."

      The "Monsieur le Baron" had a great effect upon the men, who detected a personage of the highest quality in an appetite of that kind. This title, too, reassured them. They had never heard that an ogre was ever called "Monsieur le Baron."

      "I will take a few biscuits to eat on the road," said Porthos, carelessly; and he emptied a whole jar of aniseed biscuits into the huge pocket of his doublet.

      "My shop is saved!" exclaimed Planchet.

      "Yes, as the cheese was," said the foreman.

      "What cheese?"

      "That Dutch cheese, inside which a rat had made his way, and we only found the rind left."

      Planchet looked all round his shop, and observing the different articles which had escaped Porthos' teeth, he found the comparison somewhat exaggerated. The foreman, who remarked what was passing in his master's mind, said, "Take care; he is not gone yet."

      "Have you any fruit here?" said Porthos, as he went upstairs to the entresol, where it had just been announced that some refreshment was prepared.

      "Alas!" thought the grocer, addressing a look at D'Artagnan full of entreaty, which the latter half understood.

      As soon as they had finished eating they set off. It was late when the three riders, who had left Paris about six in the evening, arrived at Fontainebleau. The journey had passed very agreeably. Porthos took a fancy to Planchet's society, because the latter was very respectful in his manners and seemed delighted to talk to him about his meadows, his woods, and his rabbit-warrens. Porthos had all the taste and pride of a landed proprietor.

      When D'Artagnan saw his two companions in earnest conversation, he took the opposite side of the road, and letting his bridle drop upon his horse's neck, separated himself from the whole world, as he had done from Porthos and from Planchet. The moon shone softly through the foliage of the forest. The odors of the open country rose deliciously perfumed to the horses' nostrils, and they snorted and pranced about delightedly. Porthos and Planchet began to talk about hay-crops. Planchet admitted to Porthos that in the more advanced years of his life, he had certainly neglected agricultural pursuits for commerce, but that his childhood had been passed in Picardy, in the beautiful meadows where the grass grew as high as the knees, and where he had played under the green apple-trees covered with red-cheeked fruit; he went on to say, that he had solemnly promised himself that as soon as he should have made his fortune, he would return to nature, and end his days as he had begun them, as near as he possibly could to the earth itself, where all men must go at last.

      "Eh! eh!" said Porthos; "in that case, my dear Monsieur Planchet, your retreat is not far distant."

      "How so?"

      "Why, you seem to be in the way of making your fortune very soon."

      "Well, we are getting on pretty well, I must admit," replied Planchet.

      "Come, tell me, what is the extent of your ambition, and what is the amount you intend to retire upon?"

      "There is one circumstance, monsieur," said Planchet, without answering the question, "which occasions me a good