“But Monseigneur knows very well that justice never lets go that which it once lays hold of. If it were bad money, there might be some hopes; but unfortunately, those were all good pieces.”
“Manage the matter as well as you can, my good man; it does not concern me, the more so as I have not a livre left.”
“Come,” said d’Artagnan, “let us inquire further. Athos’s horse, where is that?”
“In the stable.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Fifty pistoles at most.”
“It’s worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter.”
“What,” cried Athos, “are you selling my horse—my Bajazet? And pray upon