“Now, friend Porthos, now; without drawing bridle, till you get to Paris,” whispered he in his ears; “eat on horseback, drink on horseback, but lose not a minute.”
“That’s enough; I will not stop.”
“This letter to M. Fouquet; cost what it may, he must have it to-morrow before mid-day.”
“He shall.”
“And do not forget one thing, my friend.”
“What is that?”
“That you are riding out on a hunt for your brevet of duc and peer.”
“Oh! oh!” said Porthos, with his eyes sparkling; “I will do it in twenty-four hours, in that case.”