two; he had accompanied his wife to the place of her confinement, or else at least to the first relay.

“Thanks, Monsieur Bonacieux,” said d’Artagnan, emptying his glass, “that is all I wanted of you. I will now go up into my apartment. I will make Planchet brush my boots; and when he has done, I will, if you like, send him to you to brush your shoes.”

He left the mercer quite astonished at his singular farewell, and asking himself if he had not been a little inconsiderate.

At the top of the stairs he found Planchet in a great fright.

“Ah, monsieur!” cried Planchet, as soon as he perceived his master, “here is more trouble. I thought you would never come in.”