“Oh! and to mine too,” cried Planchet, transported with enthusiasm.  “We will put him in a cage and show him for money.”

“Well, Planchet, that is a third plan, of which I had not thought.”

“Do you think it a good one?”

“Yes, certainly, but I think mine better.”

“Let us see yours, then.”

“In the first place, I shall set a ransom on him.”

“Of how much?”

“Peste! a fellow like that must be well worth a hundred thousand crowns.”

“Yes, yes!”

“You see, then — in the first place, a ransom of a hundred thousand crowns.”

“Or else — "

“Or else, what is much better, I deliver him up to King Charles, who, having no longer either a general or an army to fear, nor a diplomatist to trick him, will restore himself, and when once restored, will pay down to me the hundred thousand crowns in question.  That is the idea I have formed; what do you say to it, Planchet?”

“Magnificent, monsieur!” cried Planchet, trembling with emotion.  “How did you conceive that idea?”

“It came to me one morning on the banks of the Loire, whilst our beloved king, Louis XIV., was pretending to weep upon the hand of Mademoiselle de Mancini.”

“Monsieur, I declare the idea is sublime.  But — "

“Ah! is there a but?”

“Permit me!  But this is a little like the skin of that fine bear — you know — that they were about to sell, but which it was necessary to take from the back of the living bear.  Now, to take M. Monk, there will be a bit of a scuffle, I should think.”

“No doubt; but as I shall raise an army to — "

“Yes, yes — I understand, parbleu! — a coup-de-main.  Yes, then, monsieur, you will triumph, for no one equals you in such sorts of encounters.”

“I certainly am lucky in them,” said D’Artagnan, with a proud simplicity.  “You know that if for this affair I had my dear Athos, my brave Porthos, and my cunning Aramis, the business would be settled; but they are all lost, as it appears, and nobody knows where to find them.  I will do it, then, alone.  Now, do you find the business good, and the investment advantageous?”

“Too much so — too much so.”

“How can that be?”

“Because fine things never reach the expected point.”

“This is infallible, Planchet, and the proof is that I undertake it.  It will be for you a tolerably pretty gain, and for me a very interesting stroke.  It will be said, ‘Such was the old age of M. d’Artagnan,’ and I shall hold a place in tales and even in history itself, Planchet.  I am greedy of honor.”

“Monsieur,” cried Planchet, “when I think that it is here, in my home, in the midst of my sugar, my prunes, and my cinnamon, that this gigantic project is ripened, my shop seems a palace to me.”

“Beware, beware, Planchet!  If the least report of this escapes, there is the Bastile for both of us.  Beware, my friend, for this is a plot we are hatching.  M. Monk is the ally of M. Mazarin — beware!”