At six o'clock, the musketeer ordered the horses to be brought round, and told Porthos to get ready.

He thanked Planchet for his kind hospitality, whispered a few words about a post he might succeed in obtaining for him at court, which immediately raised Planchet in Truechen's estimation, where the poor grocer--so good, so generous, so devoted--had become much lowered ever since the appearance and comparison with him of the two great gentlemen.

Such, however, is woman's nature; they are anxious to possess what they have not got, and disdain it as soon as it is acquired.

After having rendered this service to his friend Planchet, D'Artagnan said in a low tone of voice to Porthos: "That is a very beautiful ring you have on your finger." "Its worth three hundred pistoles," said Porthos.
"Madame Truechen will remember you better if you leave her that ring," replied D'Artagnan, a suggestion which Porthos seemed to hesitate to adopt.
"You think it is not beautiful enough perhaps," said the musketeer.

"I understand your feelings; a great lord as you are would not think of accepting the hospitality of an old servant without paying him most handsomely for it; but I am sure that Planchet is too good-hearted a fellow to remember that you have an income of a hundred thousand francs a year." "I have more than half a mind," said Porthos, flattered by the remark, "to make Madame Truechen a present of my little farm at Bracieux: it has twelve acres." "It is too much, my good Porthos, too much just at present....