“I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading.”

“It is yours!”

“Good heaven! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I could mount him with thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsome stirrups! HOLA, Bazin, come here this minute.”

Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless.

“That last order is useless,” interrupted d’Artagnan; “there are loaded pistols in your holsters.”

Bazin sighed.

“Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy,” said d’Artagnan; “people of all conditions gain the kingdom of heaven.”

“Monsieur was already such a good theologian,”