“No, no, monsieur, explain what you mean.”

“Look at your orchard, how stripped it is, how empty your larder, your bedstead broken, your cellar almost exhausted, look too� at Madame Truchen — ”

“Oh!

my goodness gracious!” said Planchet.

“Madame Truchen is an excellent person,” continued D’Artagnan, “but keep her for yourself, do you understand?” and he slapped him on the shoulder.

Planchet at this moment perceived Porthos and Truchen sitting close together in an arbor; Truchen, with a grace of manner peculiarly Flemish, was making a pair of earrings for Porthos out of a double cherry, while Porthos was laughing as amorously as Samson in the company of Delilah. Planchet pressed D’Artagnan’s