“Come,” said d’Artagnan, “let us inquire further. Athos’s horse, where is that?”

“In the stable.”

“How much is it worth?”

“Fifty pistoles at most.”

“It’s worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter.”

“What,” cried Athos, “are you selling my horse — my Bajazet? And pray upon what shall I make my campaign; upon Grimaud?”

“I have brought you another,” said d’Artagnan.

“Another?”

“And a magnificent one!” cried the host.