“Ah, my dear,” replied d’Artagnan, “upon that very horse I came to Paris.”
“What, does Monsieur know this horse?” said Mousqueton.
“It is of an original color,” said Aramis; “I never saw one with such a hide in my life.”
“I can well believe it,” replied d’Artagnan, “and that was why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his hide, for, certes , the carcass is not worth eighteen livres. But how did this horse come into your hands, Mousqueton?”
“Pray,” said the lackey, “say nothing about it, Monsieur; it is a frightful trick of the husband of our duchess!”
“How is that, Mousqueton?”
“Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a lady of quality, the Duchesse de—but, your pardon; my master has commanded me to be discreet. She had forced us to accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish genet and an Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the two magnificent beasts which were being sent to us, and substituted these horrible animals.”
“Which you are taking back to him?” said d’Artagnan.
“Exactly!” replied Mousqueton. “You may well believe that we will not accept such steeds as these in exchange for those which had been promised to us.”
“No, pardieu ; though I should like to have seen Porthos on my yellow horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked when I arrived in Paris. But don’t let us hinder you, Mousqueton; go and perform your master’s orders. Is he at home?”