firewood for what they wanted, a sharp report was heard like the impact
of a pair of lips on a lady's cheek.

"Porthos fancies himself at La Rochelle," thought D'Artagnan, as they
returned freighted with bottles. Planchet was singing so loudly that he
was incapable of noticing anything. D'Artagnan, whom nothing ever
escaped, remarked how much redder Truchen's left cheek was than her
right. Porthos was sitting on Truchen's left, and was curling with both
his hands both sides of his mustache at once, and Truchen was looking at
him with a most bewitching smile. The sparkling wine of Anjou very soon
produced a remarkable effect upon the three companions. D'Artagnan had
hardly strength enough left to take a candlestick to light Planchet up
his own staircase. Planchet was pulling Porthos along, who was following
Truchen, who was herself jovial enough. It was D'Artagnan who found out
the rooms and the beds. Porthos threw himself into the one destined for
him, after his friend had undressed him. D'Artagnan got into his own
bed, saying to himself, "_Mordioux!_ I had made up my mind never to
touch that light-colored wine, which brings my early camp days back
again. Fie! fie! if my musketeers were only to see their captain in such
a state." And drawing the curtains of his bed, he added, "Fortunately
enough, though, they will not see me."

"The country is very amusing," said Porthos, stretching out his legs,
which passed through the wooden footboard, and made a tremendous crash,
of which, however, no one in the house was capable of taking the
slightest notice. By two o'clock in the morning every one was fast
asleep.


Chapter VI: