foliage of jasmine and climbing roses hung in masses from the window-
frames, splendidly illuminated a damask table-cloth as white as snow.
The table was laid for two persons. Amber-colored wine sparkled in a
long cut-glass bottle; and a large jug of blue china, with a silver lid,
was filled with foaming cider. Near the table, in a high-backed
armchair, reclined, fast asleep, a woman of about thirty years of age,
her face the very picture of health and freshness. Upon her knees lay a
large cat, with her paws folded under her, and her eyes half-closed,
purring in that significant manner which, according to feline habits,
indicates perfect contentment. The two friends paused before the window
in complete amazement, while Planchet, perceiving their astonishment, was
in no little degree secretly delighted at it.

"Ah! Planchet, you rascal," said D'Artagnan, "I now understand your
absences."

"Oh, oh! there is some white linen!" said Porthos, in his turn, in a
voice of thunder. At the sound of this gigantic voice, the cat took
flight, the housekeeper woke up with a start, and Planchet, assuming a
gracious air, introduced his two companions into the room, where the
table was already laid.

"Permit me, my dear," he said, "to present to you Monsieur le Chevalier
d'Artagnan, my patron." D'Artagnan took the lady's hand in his in the
most courteous manner, and with precisely the same chivalrous air as he
would have taken Madame's.

"Monsieur le Baron du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds," added
Planchet. Porthos bowed with a reverence which Anne of Austria would
have approved of.