"Why so?" D'Artagnan ventured to ask.

"Because I should lose half the pleasure I expect to enjoy," replied
Planchet. And thereupon he rose from his sack of Indian corn, stretching
himself, and making all his bones crack, one after the other, with a sort
of harmony.

"Planchet! Planchet!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, "I do declare that there is
no sybarite upon the face of the globe who can for a moment be compared
to you. Oh, Planchet, it is very clear that we have never yet eaten a
ton of salt together."

"Why so, monsieur?"

"Because, even now I can scarcely say I know you," said D'Artagnan, "and
because, in point of fact, I return to the opinion which, for a moment, I
had formed of you that day at Boulogne, when you strangled, or did so as
nearly as possible, M. de Wardes's valet, Lubin; in plain language,
Planchet, that you are a man of great resources."

Planchet began to laugh with a laugh full of self-conceit; bade the
musketeer good-night, and went down to his back shop, which he used as a
bedroom. D'Artagnan resumed his original position upon his chair, and
his brow, which had been unruffled for a moment, became more pensive than
ever. He had already forgotten the whims and dreams of Planchet. "Yes,"
said he, taking up again the thread of his thoughts, which had been
broken by the whimsical conversation in which we have just permitted our
readers to participate. "Yes, yes, those three points include
everything: First, to ascertain what Baisemeaux wanted with Aramis;