father, and the arm of Porthos. Ah! if he had been here, good Porthos, you would have seen something worth looking at.” Then as if by way of remembrance —
“But where the devil can that brave Porthos be?” murmured D’Artagnan.
“Come, chevalier, pray come away,” urged Raoul.
“One minute, my friend; let me take my thirty-seven and a half pistols, and I am at your service. The house is a good property,” added D’Artagnan, as he entered the Image-de-Notre-Dame, “but decidedly, even if it were less profitable, I should prefer its being in another quarter.”