The night was dark, snow was falling, the streets were silent and deserted. D’Artagnan led the way through the intricate windings and narrow alleys of the city and ere long they had reached the house in question. For a moment D’Artagnan thought that Parry’s brother had disappeared; but he was mistaken.
The robust Scotchman, accustomed to the snows of his native hills, had stretched himself against a post, and like a fallen statue, insensible to the inclemency of the weather, had allowed the snow to cover him. He rose, however, as they approached.
“Come,” said Athos, “here’s another good servant. Really, honest men are not so scarce as I thought.”
“Don’t be in a hurry to weave