Were it not for the chance meeting a few months ago<a class="link link--external" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NktBN4XnMk/UrxxlC9-i_I/AAAAAAAATFA/ZXmpP3_XQnE/s1600/D%27ARTAGNAN+LUKE+PASQUALINO.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">D'Artagnan</a>would have surely been destitute, homeless, dead, or all three, were that possible. But he had met the lovely and demure Mademoiselle Constance Bonasieux whilst fleeing for his life, and indeed she had saved his life more times than he could count or cared to admit since then. Yet he had not seen much of her lately and that vexed the young man.<br/><br/>He had risen early that day in hopes of seeing her apart from her husband.  Not in<i>that</i>way, of course; their light attraction had not progressed beyond a secretive smile or a semi-unintentional brush of the hand. In truth D'Artagnan was still enthralled rather dangerously with the Lady de Winter.<br/><br/>So it was thus that after Constance's husband, Bonacieux, glared at lad thrice in as few minute, D'Artagnan understood that he should make himself scarce for the afternoon, if not all day.  It was a difficult situation for anyone to be in.<br/><br/>Then where does a young man go when he has neither duty nor amusement to bide his time? Of<i>course</i>- you guessed well. It was the tavern that beckoned him to her.<br/><br/>The harsh light of the day was replaced with the dark coolness and the stuffy heat of the tavern, though every window be open and the fire was not burning in the room.  D'Artagnan paused once the door swung shut behind him and sought out companions with his eyes whilst also ensuring that there were no debtor or scorned husbands sitting about who might take issue with his appearance in the establishment.<br/><br/>Luck was with him. Not only did he not have to vacate the premises posthaste, but two of his nearest and dearest were in attendance, and from the looks on their faces and the words that were exchanged, D'Artagnan guessed that at least one of the men had good news to share.<br/><br/>He came upon the table just as they were finishing up their speech and wine, it seemed.<br/><br/><i>"Then this baldric was a gift from Madamoiselle Coeur de votre Coeur?"</i>Anthos asked.<br/><br/><i>"It was."<br/>
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"And what did you, when you received it?"<br/>
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"Why, I thanked her?"<br/>
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"And then?"<br/>
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Porthos smiled. "I thanked her a second time, and left her in the arms of Morpheus." He went to pour another glass, only to find the pitcher empty. "But hold! We have grown thirsty with speech, and we have no wine. I shall attend to this!"</i><br/><br/>D'Artagnan grinned as he found a spot on the bench across the table from Anthos.<br/><br/>"Did my ears hear that our bold friend there has acquired the favors of another conquest?"  His eyebrow rose at the double entente as he turned to look over his shoulder at Porthos. He noted the fine baldric that was aforementioned; not an inexpensive item by any means.<br/><br/>"It seems that he will be giving good Aramis lessons in the art of wooing women before many days have passed."<br/><br/>He turned back to his mentor and regarded the man's empty wine glass. "Speaking of our worthy companion, have you seen him of late?  It's been a good day and night since his fine countenance has graced mine eyes."<br/><br/>He frowned, thinking of Constance. He hadn't seen her in as many hours if his reckoning was accurate.  It was odd not to see the seamstress or the third of his Musketeer companions in so many hours unless they were away on duty, and even then they never failed to let others know of their plans.