"To your health!" said Jupenet, quite enchanted.
"To yours, _mordioux_, to yours. But - an instant - not in this cider.
It is an abominable drink, unworthy of a man who quenches his thirst at the Hippocrene fountain - is not it so you call your fountain, you poets?"
"Yes, monsieur, our fountain is so called. That comes from two Greek words - _hippos_, which means a horse, and - "
"Monsieur," interrupted D'Artagnan, "you shall drink of a liquor which comes from one single French word, and is none the worse for that - from the word _grape_; this cider gives me the heartburn. Allow me to inquire of your host if there is not a good bottle of Beaugency, or of the Ceran growth, at the back of the large bins in his cellar."
The host, being sent for, immediately attended.
"Monsieur," interrupted the poet, "take care, we shall not have time to drink the wine, unless we make great haste, for I must take advantage of the tide to secure the boat."
"What boat?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Why the boat which sets out for Belle-Isle."
"Ah - for Belle-Isle," said the musketeer, "that is good."
"Bah! you will have plenty of time, monsieur," replied the _hotelier_, uncorking the bottle, "the boat will not leave this hour."
"But who will give me notice?" said the poet.
"Your fellow-traveler," replied the host.
"But I scarcely know him."
"When you hear him departing, it will be time for you to go."
"Is he going to Belle-Isle, likewise, then?"
"Yes."
"The traveler who has a lackey?" asked D'Artagnan. "He is some gentleman, no doubt?"
"I know nothing of him."
"What! - know nothing of him?"
"No, all I know is, that he is drinking the same wine as you."
"_Peste!_ - that is a great honor for us," said D'Artagnan, filling his companion's glass, whilst the host went out.
"So," resumed the poet, returning to his dominant ideas, "you never saw any printing done?"
"Never."
"Well, then, take the letters thus, which compose the word, you see: A B;
_ma foi!_ here is an R, two E E, then a G." And he assembled the letters with a swiftness and skill which did not escape the eye of D'Artagnan.
"_Abrege_," said he, as he ended.
"Good!" said D'Artagnan; "here are plenty of letters got together; but how are they kept so?" And he poured out a second glass for the poet.
M. Jupenet smiled like a man who has an answer for everything; then he pulled out - still from his pocket - a little metal ruler, composed of two parts, like a carpenter's rule, against which he put together, and in a line, the characters, holding them under his left thumb.
"And what do you call that little metal ruler?" said D'Artagnan, "for, I suppose, all these things have names."
"This is called a composing-stick," said Jupenet; "it is by the aid of this stick that the lines are formed."
"Come, then, I was not mistaken in what I said; you have a press in your pocket," said D'Artagnan, laughing with an air of simplicity so stupid, that the poet was completely his dupe.
"No," replied he; "but I am too lazy to write, and when I have a verse in my head, I print it immediately. That is a labor spared."
"_Mordioux!_" thought D'Artagnan to himself, "this must be cleared up."
And under a pretext, which did not embarrass the musketeer, who was fertile in expedients, he left the table, went downstairs, ran to the shed under which stood the poet's little cart, and poked the point of his poniard into the stuff which enveloped one of the packages, which he found full of types, like those which the poet had in his pocket.
"Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "I do not yet know whether M. Fouquet wishes to fortify Belle-Isle; but, at all events, here are some spiritual munitions for the castle." Then, enchanted with his rich discovery, he ran upstairs again, and resumed his place at the table.
D'Artagnan had learnt what he wished to know. He, however, remained, none the less, face to face with his partner, to the moment when they heard from the next room symptoms of a person's being about to go out.
The printer was immediately on foot; he had given orders for his horse to be got ready. His carriage was waiting at the door. The second traveler got into his saddle, in the courtyard, with his lackey. D'Artagnan followed Jupenet to the door; he embarked his cart and horse on board the boat. As to the opulent traveler, he did the same with his two horses and servant. But all the wit D'Artagnan employed in endeavoring to find out his name was lost - he could learn nothing. Only he took such notice of his countenance, that it was impressed upon his mind forever.
D'Artagnan had a great inclination to embark with the two travelers, but an interest more powerful than curiosity - that of success - repelled him from the shore, and brought him back again to the hostelry. He entered with a sigh, and went to bed directly in order to be ready early in the morning with fresh ideas and the sage counsel of sufficing sleep.