“So that since that time—” replied d’Artagnan, totally unable to refrain from laughing at the pitiable face of the host.
“So from that time, Monsieur,” continued the latter, “we have led the most miserable life imaginable; for you must know, Monsieur, that all our provisions are in the cellar. There is our wine in bottles, and our wine in casks; the beer, the oil, and the spices, the bacon, and sausages. And as we are prevented from going down there, we are forced to refuse food and drink to the travelers who come to the house; so that our hostelry is daily going to ruin. If your friend remains another week in my cellar I shall be a ruined man.”
“And not more than justice, either, you ass! Could you not perceive by our appearance that we were people of quality, and not coiners—say?”
“Yes, Monsieur, you are right,” said the host. “But, hark, hark! There he is!”
“Somebody has disturbed him, without doubt,” said d’Artagnan.
“But he must be disturbed,” cried the host; “Here are two English gentlemen just arrived.”
“Well?”
“Well, the English like good wine, as you may know, Monsieur; these have asked for the best. My wife has perhaps requested permission of M. Athos to go into the cellar to satisfy these gentlemen; and he, as usual, has refused. Ah, good heaven! There is the hullabaloo louder than ever!”
D’Artagnan, in fact, heard a great noise on the side next the cellar. He rose, and preceded by the host wringing his hands, and followed by Planchet with his musketoon ready for use, he approached the scene of action.