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The Return

           "AndI,"saidPorthos,"doyouthinkmystraincostmenothing?withoutreckoningMousqueton’swound,forwhichIhadtohavethesurgeontwiceaday,andwhochargedmedoubleonaccountofthatfoolishMousquetonhavingallowedhimselfaballinapartwhichpeoplegenerallyonlyshowtoanapothecary;soIadvisedhimtotrynevertogetwoundedthereanymore."

           "Ay,ay!"saidAthos,exchangingasmilewithd’ArtagnanandAramis,"itisveryclearyouactednoblywithregardtothepoorlad;thatislikeagoodmaster."

           "Inshort,"saidPorthos,"whenallmyexpensesarepaid,Ishallhave,atmost,thirtycrownsleft."

           "AndIabouttenpistoles,"saidAramis.

           "Well,thenitappearsthatwearetheCroesusesofthesociety.Howmuchhaveyouleftofyourhundredpistoles,d’Artagnan?"

           "Ofmyhundredpistoles?Why,inthefirstplaceIgaveyoufifty."

           "Youthinkso?"

           "PARDIEU!"

           "Ah,thatistrue.Irecollect."

           "ThenIpaidthehostsix."

           "Whatabruteofahost!Whydidyougivehimsixpistoles?"

           "Youtoldmetogivethemtohim."

           "Itistrue;Iamtoogood-natured.Inbrief,howmuchremains?"

           "Twenty-fivepistoles,"saidd’Artagnan.

           "AndI,"saidAthos,takingsomesmallchangefromhispocket,"I—"

           "You?Nothing!"

           "Myfaith!Solittlethatitisnotworthreckoningwiththegeneralstock."

           "Now,then,letuscalculatehowmuchwepossesinall."

           "Porthos?"

           "Thirtycrowns."

           "Aramis?"

           "Tenpistoles."

           "Andyou,d’Artagnan?"

           "Twenty-five."

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