“Three hundred thousand livres! Two-thirds too much!”

“I beg your pardon — did you not tell me? — I thought I heard you say — I fancied you had a partner — ”

“Ah! Mordioux! that’s true,” cried D’Artagnan, coloring; “there is Planchet. I had forgotten Planchet, upon my life! Well! there are my three hundred thousand livres broken into. That’s a pity! it was a round sum, and sounded well. That is true, Athos; I am no longer rich. What a memory you have!”

“Tolerably good; yes, thank God!”

“The worthy Planchet!” grumbled D’Artagnan; “his was not a bad dream! What a speculation! Peste! Well! what is said is said.”