Racan. But that is not all: we angle in the little canal, after which we dine, crowned with flowers. That is Wednesday.”

“Peste!” said D’Artagnan; “you don’t divide your pleasures badly. And Thursday? — what can be left for poor Thursday?”

“It is not very unfortunate, monsieur,” said Mousqueton, smiling. “Thursday, Olympian pleasures. Ah, monsieur, that is superb! We get together all monseigneur’s young vassals, and we make them throw the disc, wrestle, and run races. Monseigneur can’t run now, no more can I; but monseigneur throws the disc as nobody else can throw it. And when he does deal a blow, oh, that proves a misfortune!”

“How so?”