fresh, and held his hand out to Raoul, who threw himself into his arms. When in the shop, he cast a quick glance at the shop-lads, who looked upon the scene with a pride mingled with some inquietude; then plunging his hands into a chest of currants, he went straight to the officer who was waiting for him at the door.

“Those features! Can it be you, Monsieur de Friedisch?” cried D’Artagnan, gayly. “Eh! eh! what, do we arrest our friends?”

“Arrest!” whispered the lads among themselves.

“Ja, it is I, Monsieur d’Artagnan! Good-day to you!” said the Swiss, in his mountain patois.

“Must I give you up my sword? I warn you that it is long and heavy; you had