“Is he well?”

“Peste!”

“Well, but Mouston did not tell you I was here.”

“Why should he not? Have I, perchance, deserved to lose his confidence?”

“No; but he did not know it.”

“Well; that is a reason at least that does not offend my self-love.”

“Then how did you manage to find me?”

“My dear friend, a great noble like you always leaves traced behind him on his passage; and I should think but poorly of myself, if I were not sharp enough to follow the traces of my friends.”  This explanation, flattering as it was, did not entirely satisfy Porthos.

“But I left no traces behind me, for I came here disguised,” said Porthos.

“Ah!  You came disguised did you?” said D’Artagnan.

“Yes.”

“And how?”

“As a miller.”

“And do you think a great noble, like you, Porthos, can affect common manners so as to deceive people?”

“Well, I swear to you my friend, that I played my part so well that everybody was deceived.”

“Indeed! so well, that I have not discovered and joined you?”

“Yes; but how did you discover and join me?”

“Stop a bit.  I was going to tell you how.  Do you imagine Mouston — "

“Ah! it was that fellow, Mouston,” said Porthos, gathering up those two triumphant arches which served him for eyebrows.

“But stop, I tell you — it was no fault of Mouston’s because he was ignorant of where you were.”

“I know he was; and that is why I am in such haste to understand — "

“Oh! how impatient you are, Porthos.”

“When I do not comprehend, I am terrible.”

“Well, you will understand.  Aramis wrote to you at Pierrefonds, did he not?”

“Yes.”

“And he told you to come before the equinox.”

“That is true.”

“Well! that is it,” said D’Artagnan, hoping that this reason would mystify Porthos.  Porthos appeared to give himself up to a violent mental labor.

“Yes, yes,” said he, “I understand.  As Aramis told me to come before the equinox, you have understood that that was to join him.  You then inquired where Aramis was, saying to yourself, ’Where Aramis is, there Porthos will be.’  You have learnt that Aramis was in Bretagne, and you said to yourself, ‘Porthos is in Bretagne.’”

“Exactly.  In good truth, Porthos, I cannot tell why you have not turned conjuror.  So you understand that, arriving at Roche-Bernard, I heard of the splendid fortifications going on at Belle-Isle.  The account raised my curiosity, I embarked in a fishing boat, without dreaming that you were here:  I came, and I saw a monstrous fine fellow lifting a stone Ajax could not have stirred.  I cried out, ’Nobody but the Baron de Bracieux could have performed such a feat of strength.’  You heard me, you turned round, you recognized me, we embraced; and, ma foi! if you like, my dear friend, we will embrace again.”