“The fellow must be mad,” said Porthos, “to run against people in this manner!  Do you always forget your eyes when you happen to be in a hurry?”

“No,” replied D’Artagnan, who, in extricating himself from the cloak, had observed that the handsome cloth of gold coat worn by Porthos was only gold in front and plain buff at the back, “no, and thanks to my eyes, I can see what others cannot see.”

“Monsieur,” said Porthos angrily, “you stand a chance of getting chastised if you run against musketeers in this fashion.  I shall look for you, at one o’clock behind the Luxembourg.”

“Very well, at one o’clock then,” replied D’Artagnan, turning into the street.

A few minutes later D’Artagnan annoyed Aramis, the third musketeer, who was chatting with some gentleman of the king’s musketeers.  As D’Artagnan came up Aramis accidentally dropped an embroidered pocket-handkerchief and covered it at once with his foot to prevent observation.  D’Artagnan, conscious of a certain want of politeness in his treatment of Athos and Porthos, and determined to be more obliging in future, stooped and picked up the handkerchief—­much to the vexation of Aramis, who denied all claim to the delicate piece of cambric.

D’Artagnan not taking the rebukes of Aramis in good part, they fixed two o’clock as the hour of meeting.

The two young men bowed and separated, Aramis going up the street which led to the Luxembourg, whilst D’Artagnan, finding that it was near noon, took the road to the Carmes-Deschaux, saying to himself, “Decidedly I can’t draw back; but at least if I am killed, I shall be killed by a musketeer.”

Knowing nobody in Paris, D’Artagnan went to his appointment without a second.

It was just striking twelve when he arrived on the ground, and Athos, still suffering from his old wound on the shoulder, was already waiting for his adversary.

Athos explained with all politeness that his seconds had not yet arrived.

“If you are in great haste, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, “and if it be your will to despatch me at once, do not inconvenience yourself.  I am ready.  But if you would wait three days till your shoulder is healed, I have a miraculous balsam given me by my mother, and I am sure this balsam will cure your wound.  At the end of three days it would still do me a great honour to be your man.”

“That is well said,” said Athos, “and it pleases me.  Thus spoke the gallant knights of Charlemagne.  Monsieur, I love men of your stamp, and I can tell that if we don’t kill each other, I shall enjoy your society.  But here comes my seconds.”

“What!” cried D’Artagnan as Porthos and Aramis appeared.  “Are these gentlemen your seconds?”

“Yes,” replied Athos.  “Are you not aware that we are never seen one without the others, and that we are called the three inseparables?”

“What does this mean?” said Porthos, who had now come up and stood astonished.