Of fifty large sausages, suspended from the joists, scarcely ten remained.
Then the lamentations of the host and hostess pierced the vault of the cellar. D’Artagnan himself was moved by them. Athos did not even turn his head.
To grief succeeded rage. The host armed himself with a spit, and rushed into the chamber occupied by the two friends.
“Some wine!” said Athos, on perceiving the host.
“Some wine!” cried the stupefied host, “some wine? Why you have drunk more than a hundred pistoles’ worth! I am a ruined man, lost, destroyed!”
“Bah,” said Athos, “we were always dry.”
“If you had been contented with drinking,