"How much did it cost you?"
"Eight hundred livres."
"Here are forty double pistoles, my dear friend," said d'Artagnan, taking the sum from his pocket; "I know that is the coin in which you were paid for your poems."
"You are rich, then?" said Aramis.
"Rich? Richest, my dear fellow!"
And d'Artagnan chinked the remainder of his pistoles in his pocket.
"Send your saddle, then, to the hotel of the Musketeers, and your horse can be brought back with ours."