Raoul asked Grimaud for his sword, which the old man brought him immediately.  “Now then,” added D’Artagnan, opening his arms to Athos, “adieu, my dear friend!” Athos held him in a long embrace, and the musketeer, who knew his discretion so well, murmured in his ear — “An affair of state,” to which Athos only replied by a pressure of the hand, still more significant.  They then separated.  Raoul took the arm of his old friend, who led him along the Rue Saint-Honore.  “I an conducting you to the abode of the god Plutus,” said D’Artagnan to the young man; “prepare yourself.  The whole day you will witness the piling up of crowns.  Heavens! how I am changed!”

“Oh! what numbers of people there are in the street!” said Raoul.

“Is there a procession to-day?” asked D’Artagnan of a passer-by.

“Monsieur, it is a hanging,” replied the man.

“What! a hanging at the Greve?” said D’Artagnan.

“Yes, monsieur.”

“The devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I want to go and take my rent!” cried D’Artagnan.  “Raoul, did you ever see anybody hung?”

“Never, monsieur — thank God!”

“Oh! how young that sounds!  If you were on guard in the trenches, as I was, and a spy!  But, pardon me, Raoul, I am doting — you are quite right, it is a hideous sight to see a person hung!  At what hour do they hang them, monsieur, if you please?”

“Monsieur,” replied the stranger respectfully, delighted at joining conversation with two men of the sword, “it will take place at about three o’clock.”

“Aha! it is now only half-past one; let us step out, we shall be there in time to touch my three hundred and seventy-five livres, and get away before the arrival of the malefactor.”

“Malefactors, monsieur,” continued the bourgeois; “there are two of them.”

“Monsieur, I return to you many thanks,” said D’Artagnan, who as he grew older, had become polite to a degree.  Drawing Raoul along, he directed his course rapidly in the direction of La Greve.  Without that great experience musketeers have of a crowd, to which were joined an irresistible strength of wrist, and an uncommon suppleness of shoulders, our two travelers would not have arrived at their place of destination.  They followed the line of the Quai, which they had gained on quitting the Rue Saint-Honore, where they left Athos.  D’Artagnan went first; his elbow, his wrist, his shoulder formed three wedges which he knew how to insinuate with skill into the groups, to make them split and separate like firewood.  He made use sometimes of the hilt of his sword as an additional help:  introducing it between ribs that were too rebellious, making it take the part of a lever or crowbar, to separate husband from wife, uncle from nephew, and brother from brother.  And all that was done so naturally, and with such gracious smiles, that people must have had ribs of bronze not to cry thank you when the wrist made its