the sword, and cracking his whip with his right hand.

“Do you remember me?” said he to the host, who advanced to greet hiM.“I have not that honor, monseigneur,” replied the latter, his eyes dazzled by the brilliant style in which d’Artagnan traveled.

“What, you don’t know me?”

“No, monseigneur.”

“Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you done with that gentleman against whom you had the audacity, about twelve days ago, to make an accusation of passing false money?”

The host became as pale as death; for d’Artagnan had assumed a threatening attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after his master.