IN WHICH THE PLOT THICKENS

His visit to M. de Treville being paid, the pensive D`Artagnan took the longest way homeward.

On what was D`Artagnan thinking, that he strayed thus from his

path, gazing at the stars of heaven, and sometimes sighing,

sometimes smiling?

He was thinking of Mme. Bonacieux. For an apprentice Musketeer

the young woman was almost an ideal of love. Pretty, mysterious,

initiated in almost all the secrets of the court, which reflected

such a charming gravity over her pleasing features, it might be

surmised that she was not wholly unmoved; and this is an

irresistible charm to novices in love. Moreover, D`Artagnan had

delivered her from the hands of the demons who wished to search

and ill treat her; and this important service had established

between them one of those sentiments of gratitude which so easily

assume a more tender character.

D`Artagnan already fancied himself, so rapid is the flight of our

dreams upon the wings of imagination, accosted by a messenger

from the young woman, who brought him some billet appointing a

meeting, a gold chain, or a diamond. We have observed that young

cavaliers received presents from their king without shame. Let

us add that in these times of lax morality they had no more

delicacy with respect to the mistresses; and that the latter

almost always left them valuable and durable remembrances, as if

they essayed to conquer the fragility of their sentiments by the

solidity of their gifts.

Without a blush, men made their way in the world by the means of

women blushing. Such as were only beautiful gave their beauty,

whence, without doubt, comes the proverb, "The most beautiful

girl in the world can only give what she has." Such as were rich

gave in addition a part of their money; and a vast number of

heroes of that gallant period may be cited who would neither have

won their spurs in the first place, nor their battles afterward,

without the purse, more or less furnished, which their mistress

fastened to the saddle bow.

D`Artagnan owned nothing. Provincial diffidence, that slight

varnish, the ephemeral flower, that down of the peach, had

evaporated to the winds through the little orthodox counsels

which the three Musketeers gave their friend. D`Artagnan,

following the strange custom of the times, considered himself at

Paris as on a campaign, neither more nor less than if he had been

in Flanders--Spain yonder, woman here, In each there was an

enemy to contend with, and contributions to be levied.

But, we must say, at the present moment D`Artagnan was ruled by

as feeling much more noble and disinterested. The mercer had

said that he was rich; the young man might easily guess that

with so weak a man as M. Bonacieux; and interest was almost

foreign to this commencement of love, which had been the

consequence of it. We say ALMOST, for the idea that a young,

handsome, kind, and witty woman is at the same time rich takes

nothing from the beginning of love, but on the contrary

strengthens it.

There are in affluence a crowd of aristocratic cares and caprices

which are highly becoming to beauty. A fine and white stocking,

a silken robe, a lace kerchief, a pretty slipper on the foot, a

tasty ribbon on the head do not make an ugly woman pretty, but

they make a pretty woman beautiful, without reckoning the hands,

which gain by all this; the hands, among women particularly, to

be beautiful must be idle.

Then D`Artagnan, as the reader, from whom we have not concealed

the state of his fortune, very well knows--D`Artagnan was not a

millionaire; he hoped to become one someday, but the time which

in his own mind he fixed upon for this happy change was still far

distant. In the meanwhile, how disheartening to see the woman

one loves long for those thousands of nothings which constitute a

woman`s happiness, and be unable to give her those thousands of

nothings. At least, when the woman is rich and the lover is not

that which he cannot offer she offers to herself; and although it

is generally with her husband`s money that she procures herself

this indulgence, the gratitude for it seldom reverts to him.

Then D`Artagnan, disposed to become the most tender of lovers,

was at the same time a very devoted friend, In the midst of his

amorous projects for the mercer`s wife, he did not forget his

friends. The pretty Mme. Bonacieux was just the woman to walk

with in the Plain St. Denis or in the fair of St. Germain, in

company with Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, to whom D`Artagnan had

often remarked this. Then one could enjoy charming little

dinners, where one touches on one side the hand of a friend, and

on the other the foot of a mistress. Besides, on pressing

occasions, in extreme difficulties, D`Artagnan would become the

preserver of his friends.

And M. Bonacieux? whom D`Artagnan had pushed into the hands of

the officers, denying him aloud although he had promised in a

whisper to save him. We are compelled to admit to our readers

that D`Artagnan thought nothing about him in any way; or that if

he did think of him, it was only to say to himself that he was

very well where he was, wherever it might be. Love is the most

selfish of all the passions.

Let our readers reassure themselves. IF D`Artagnan forgets his

host, or appears to forget him, under the pretense of not knowing

where he has been carried, we will not forget him, and we know

where he is. But for the moment, let us do as did the amorous

Gascon; we will see after the worthy mercer later.

D`Artagnan, reflecting on his future amours, addressing himself

to the beautiful night, and smiling at the stars, rescinded the

Rue Cherish-Midi, or Chase-Midi, as it was then called. As he

found himself in the quarter in which Aramis lived, he took it

into his head to pay his friend a visit in order to explain the

motives which had led him to send Planchet with a request that he

would come instantly to the mousetrap. Now, if Aramis had been

at home when Planchet came to his abode, he had doubtless

hastened to the Rue des Fossoyeurs, and finding nobody there but

his other two companions perhaps, they would not be able to

conceive what all this meant. This mystery required an

explanation; at least, so D`Artagnan declared to himself.

He likewise thought this was an opportunity for talking about

pretty little Mme. Bonacieux, of whom his head, if not his heart,

was already full. We must never look for discretion in first

love. First love is accompanied by such excessive joy that

unless the joy be allowed to overflow, it will stifle you.

Paris for two hours past had been dark, and seemed a desert.

Eleven o`clock sounded from all the clocks of the Faubourg St.

Germain. It was delightful weather. D`Artagnan was passing

along a lane on the spot where the Rue d`Assas is now situated,

breathing the balmy emanations which were borne upon the wind

from the Rue de Vaugirard, and which arose from the gardens

refreshed by the dews of evening and the breeze of night. From a

distance resounded, deadened, however, by good shutters, the

songs of the tipplers, enjoying themselves in the cabarets

scattered along the plain. Arrived at the end of the lane,

D`Artagnan turned to the left. The house in which Aramis dwelt

was situated between the Rue Cassette and the Rue Servandoni.

D`Artagnan had just passed the Rue Cassette, and already

perceived the door of his friend`s house, shaded by a mass of

sycamores and clematis which formed a vast arch opposite the

front of it, when he perceived something like a shadow issuing

from the Rue Servandoni. This something was enveloped in a

cloak, and D`Artagnan at first believed it was a man; but by the

smallness of the form, the hesitation of the walk, and the

indecision of the step, he soon discovered that it was a woman.

Further, this woman, as if not certain of the house she was

seeking, lifted up her eyes to look around her, stopped, went

backward, and then returned again. D`Artagnan was perplexed.

"Shall I go and offer her my services?" thought he. "By her step

she must be young; perhaps she is pretty. Oh, yes! But a woman

who wanders in the streets at this hour only ventures out to meet

her lover. If I should disturb a rendezvous, that would not be

the best means of commencing an acquaintance."

Meantime the young woman continued to advance, counting the

houses and windows. This was neither long nor difficult. There

were but three hotels in this part of the street; and only two

windows looking toward the road, one of which was in a pavilion

parallel to that which Aramis occupied, the other belonging to

Aramis himself.

"PARIDIEU!" said D`Artagnan to himself, to whose mind the niece

of the theologian reverted, "PARDIEU, it would be droll if this

belated dove should be in search of our friend`s house. But on

my soul, it looks so. Ah, my dear Aramis, this time I shall find

you out." And D`Artagnan, making himself as small as he could,

concealed himself in the darkest side of the street near a stone

bench placed at the back of a niche.

The young woman continued to advance; and in addition to the

lightness of her step, which had betrayed her, she emitted a

little cough which denoted a sweet voice. D`Artagnan believed

this cough to be a signal.

Nevertheless, whether the cough had been answered by a similar

signal which had fixed the irresolution of the nocturnal seeker,

or whether without this aid she saw that she had arrived at the

end of her journey, she resolutely drew near to Aramis`s shutter,

and tapped, at three equal intervals, with her bent finger.

"This is all very fine, dear Aramis," murmured D`Artagnan.

"Ah, Monsieur Hypocrite, I understand how you study theology."

The three blows were scarcely struck, when the inside blind was

opened and a light appeared through the panes of the outside

shutter.

"Ah, ah!" said the listener, "not through doors, but through

windows! Ah, this visit was expected. We shall see the windows

open, and the lady enter by escalade. Very pretty!"

But to the great astonishment of D`Artagnan, the shutter remained

closed. Still more, the light which had shone for an instant

disappeared, and all was again in obscurity.

D`Artagnan thought this could not last long, and continued to

look with all his eyes and listen with all his ears.

He was right; at the end of some seconds two sharp taps were

heard inside. The young woman in the street replied by a single

tap, and the shutter was opened a little way.

It may be judged whether D`Artagnan looked or listened with

avidity. Unfortunately the light had been removed into another

chamber; but the eyes of the young man were accustomed to the

night. Besides, the eyes of the Gascons have, as it is asserted,

like those of cats, the faculty of seeing in the dark.

D`Artagnan then saw that the young woman took from her pocket a

white object, which she unfolded quickly, and which took the form

of a handkerchief. She made her interlocutor observe the corner

of this unfolded object.

This immediately recalled to D`Artagnan`s mind the handkerchief

which he had found at the feet of Mme. Bonacieux, which had

reminded him of that which he had dragged from under the feet of

Aramis.

"What the devil could that handkerchief signify?"

Placed where he was, D`Artagnan could not perceive the face of

Aramis. We say Aramis, because the young man entertained no

doubt that it was his friend who held this dialogue from the

interior with the lady of the exterior. Curiosity prevailed over

prudence; and profiting by the preoccupation into which the sight

of the handkerchief appeared to have plunged the two personages

now on the scene, he stole from his hiding place, and quick as

lightning, but stepping with utmost caution, he ran and placed

himself close to the angle of the wall, from which his eye could

pierce the interior of Aramis`s room.

Upon gaining this advantage D`Artagnan was near uttering a cry of

surprise; it was not Aramis who was conversing with the nocturnal

visitor, it was a woman! D`Artagnan, however, could only see

enough to recognize the form of her vestments, not enough to

distinguish her features.

At the same instant the woman inside drew a second handkerchief

from her pocket, and exchanged it for that which had just been

shown to her. Then some words were spoken by the two women. At

length the shutter closed. The woman who was outside the window

turned round, and passed within four steps of D`Artagnan, pulling

down the hood of her mantle; but the precaution was too late,

D`Artagnan had already recognized Mme. Bonacieux.

Mme. Bonacieux! The suspicion that it was she had crossed the

mind of D`Artagnan when she drew the handkerchief from her

pocket; but what probability was there that Mme. Bonacieux, who

had sent for M. Laporte in order to be reconducted to the Louvre,

should be running about the streets of Paris at half past eleven

at night, at the risk of being abducted a second time?

This must be, then, an affair of importance; and what is the most

important affair to a woman of twenty-five! Love.

But was it on her own account, or on account of another, that she

exposed herself to such hazards? This was a question the young

man asked himself, whom the demon of jealousy already gnawed,

being in heart neither more nor less than an accepted lover.

There was a very simple means of satisfying himself whither Mme.

Bonacieux was going; that was to follow her. This method was so

simple that D`Artagnan employed it quite naturally and

instinctively.

But at the sight of the young man, who detached himself from the

wall like a statue walking from its niche, and at the noise of

the steps which she heard resound behind her, Mme. Bonacieux

uttered a little cry and fled.

D`Artagnan ran after her. It was not difficult for him to

overtake a woman embarrassed with her cloak. He came up with her

before she had traversed a third of the street. The unfortunate

woman was exhausted, not by fatigue, but by terror, and when

D`Artagnan placed his hand upon her shoulder, she sank upon one

knee, crying in a choking voice, "Kill me, if you please, you

shall know nothing!"

D`Artagnan raised her by passing his arm round her waist; but as

he felt by her weight she was on the point of fainting, he made

haste to reassure her by protestations of devotedness. These

protestations were nothing for Mme. Bonacieux, for such

protestations may be made with the worst intentions in the world;

but the voice was all Mme. Bonacieux thought she recognized the

sound of that voice; she reopened her eyes, cast a quick glance

upon the man who had terrified her so, and at once perceiving it

was D`Artagnan, she uttered a cry of joy, "Oh, it is you, it is

you! Thank God, thank God!"

"Yes, it is I," said D`Artagnan, "it is I, whom God has sent to

watch over you."

"Was it with that intention you followed me?" asked the young

woman, with a coquettish smile, whose somewhat bantering

character resumed its influence, and with whom all fear had

disappeared from the moment in which she recognized a friend in

one she had taken for an enemy.

"No," said D`Artagnan; "no, I confess it. It was chance that

threw me in your way; I saw a woman knocking at the window of one

of my friends."

"One of your friends?" interrupted Mme. Bonacieux.

"Without doubt; Aramis is one of my best friends."

"Aramis! Who is he?"

"Come, come, you won`t tell me you don`t know Aramis?"

"This is the first time I ever heard his name pronounced."

"It is the first time I ever heard his name pronounced."

"It is the first time, then, that you ever went to that house?"

"Undoubtedly."

"And you did not know that it was inhabited by a young man?"

"No."

"By a Musketeer?"

"No, indeed!"

"It was not he, then, you came to seek?"

"Not the least in the world. Besides, you must have seen that

the person to whom I spoke was a woman."

"That is true; but this woman is a friend of Aramis--"

"I know nothing of that."

"--since she lodges with him."

"That does not concern me."

"But who is she?"

"Oh, that is not my secret."

"My dear Madame Bonacieux, you are charming; but at the same time

you are one of the most mysterious women."

"Do I lose by that?"

"No; you are, on the contrary, adorable."

"Give me your arm, then."

"Most willingly. And now?"

"Now escort me."

"Where?"

"Where I am going."

"But where are you going?"

"You will see, because you will leave me at the door."

"Shall I wait for you?"

"That will be useless."

"You will return alone, then?"

"Perhaps yes, perhaps no."

"But will the person who shall accompany you afterward be a man

or a woman?"

"I don`t know yet."

"But I will know it!"

"How so?"

"I will wait until you come out."

"In that case, adieu."

"Why so?"

"I do not want you."

"But you have claimed--"

"The aid of a gentleman, not the watchfulness of a spy."

"The word is rather hard."

"How are they called who follow others in spite of them?"

"They are indiscreet."

"The word is too mild."

"well, madame, I perceive I must do as you wish."

"Why did you deprive yourself of the merit of doing so at once?"

"Is there no merit in repentance?"

"And do you really repent?"

"I know nothing about it myself. But what I know is that I

promise to do all you wish if you allow me to accompany you where

you are going."

"And you will leave me then?"

"Yes."

"Without waiting for my coming out again?"

"Yes."

"Word of honor?"

"By the faith of a gentleman. Take my arm, and let us go."

D`Artagnan offered his arm to Mme. Bonacieux, who willingly took

it, half laughing, half trembling, and both gained the top of Rue

de la Harpe. Arriving there, the young woman seemed to hesitate,

as she had before done in the Rue Vaugirard. She seemed,

however, by certain signs, to recognize a door, and approaching

that door, "And now, monsieur," said she, "it is here I have

business; a thousand thanks for your honorable company, which has

saved me from all the dangers to which, alone I was exposed. But

the moment is come to keep your word; I have reached my

destination."

"And you will have nothing to fear on your return?"

"I shall have nothing to fear but robbers."

"And that is nothing?"

"What could they take from me? I have not a penny about me."

"You forget that beautiful handkerchief with the coat of arms."

"Which?"

"That which I found at your feet, and replaced in your pocket."

"Hold your tongue, imprudent man! Do you wish to destroy me?"

"You see very plainly that there is still danger for you, since a

single word makes you tremble; and you confess that if that word

were heard you would be ruined. Come, come, madame!" cried

D`Artagnan, seizing her hands, and surveying her with an ardent

glance, "come, be more generous. Confide in me. Have you not

read in my eyes that there is nothing but devotion and sympathy

in my heart?"

"Yes," replied Mme. Bonacieux; "therefore, ask my own secrets,

and I will reveal them to you; but those of others--that is quite

another thing."

"Very well," said D`Artagnan, "I shall discover them; as these

secrets may have an influence over your life, these secrets must

become mine."

"Beware of what you do!" cried the young woman, in a manner so

serious as to make D`Artagnan start in spite of himself. "Oh,

meddle in nothing which concerns me. Do not seek to assist me in

that which I am accomplishing. This I ask of you in the name of

the interest with which I inspire you, in the name of the service

you have rendered me and which I never shall forget while I have

life. Rather, place faith in what I tell you. Have no more

concern about me; I exist no longer for you, any more than if you

had never seen me."

"Must Aramis do as much as I, madame?" said D`Artagnan, deeply

piqued.

"This is the second or third time, monsieur, that you have

repeated that name, and yet I have told you that I do not know

him."

"You do not know the man at whose shutter you have just knocked?

Indeed, madame, you believe me too credulous!"

"Confess that it is for the sake of making me talk that you

invent this story and create this personage."

"I invent nothing, madame; I create nothing. I only speak that

exact truth."

"And you say that one of your friends lives in that house?"

"I say so, and I repeat it for the third time; that house is one

inhabited by my friend, and that friend is Aramis."

"All this will be cleared up at a later period," murmured the

young woman; "no, monsieur, be silent."

"If you could see my heart," said D`Artagnan, "you would there

read so much curiosity that you would pity me and so much love

that you would instantly satisfy my curiosity. We have nothing

to fear from those who love us."

"You speak very suddenly of love, monsieur," said the young

woman, shaking her head.

"That is because love has come suddenly upon me, and for the

first time; and because I am only twenty."

The young woman looked at him furtively.

"Listen; I am already upon the scent," resumed D`Artagnan.

"About three months ago I was near having a duel with Aramis

concerning a handkerchief resembling the one you showed to the

woman in his house--for a handkerchief marked in the same manner,

I am sure."

"Monsieur," said the young woman, "you weary me very much, I

assure you, with your questions."

"But you, madame, prudent as you are, think, if you were to be

arrested with that handkerchief, and that handkerchief were to be

seized, would you not be compromised?"

"In what way? The initials are only mine--C. B., Constance

Bonacieux."

"Or Camille de Bois-Tracy."

"Silence, monsieur! Once again, silence! Ah, since the dangers

I incur on my own account cannot stop you, think of those you may

yourself run!"

"Me?"

"Yes; there is peril of imprisonment, risk of life in knowing

me."

"Then I will not leave you."

"Monsieur!" said the young woman, supplicating him and clasping

her hands together, "monsieur, in the name of heaven, by the

honor of a soldier, by the courtesy of a gentleman, depart!

There, there midnight sounds! That is the hour when I am

expected."

"Madame," said the young man, bowing; "I can refuse nothing asked

of me thus. Be content; I will depart."

"But you will not follow me; you will not watch me?"

"I will return home instantly."

"Ah, I was quite sure you were a good and brave young man," said

Mme. Bonacieux, holding out her hand to him, and placing the

other upon the knocker of a little door almost hidden in the

wall.

D`Artagnan seized the hand held out to him, and kissed it

ardently.

"Ah! I wish I had never seen you!" cried D`Artagnan, with that

ingenuous roughness which women often prefer to the affectations

of politeness, because it betrays the depths of the thought and

proves that feeling prevails over reason.

"Well!" resumed Mme. Bonacieux, in a voice almost caressing, and

pressing the hand of D`Artagnan, who had not relinquished hers,

"well: I will not say as much as you do; what is lost for today

may not be lost forever. Who knows, when I shall be at liberty,

that I may not satisfy your curiosity?"

"And will you make the same promise to my love?" cried

D`Artagnan, beside himself with joy.

"Oh, as to that, I do not engage myself. That depends upon the

sentiments with which you may inspire me."

"Then today, madame--"

"Oh, today, I am no further than gratitude."

"Ah! You are too charming," said D`Artagnan, sorrowfully; "and

you abuse my love."

"No, I use your generosity, that`s all. But be of good cheer;

with certain people, everything comes round."

"Oh, you render me the happiest of men! Do not forget this

evening--do not forget that promise."

"Be satisfied. In the proper time and place I will remember

everything. Now then, go, go, in the name of heaven! I was

expected at sharp midnight, and I am late."

"By five minutes."

"Yes; but in certain circumstances five minutes are five ages."

"When one loves."

"Well! And who told you I had no affair with a lover?"

"It is a man, then, who expects you?" cried D`Artagnan. "A man!"

"The discussion is going to begin again!" said Mme. Bonacieux,

with a half-smile which was not exempt from a tinge of

impatience.

"No, no; I go, I depart! I believe in you, and I would have all

the merit of my devotion, even if that devotion were stupidity.

Adieu, madame, adieu!"

And as if he only felt strength to detach himself by a violent

effort from the hand he held, he sprang away, running, while Mme.

Bonacieux knocked, as at the shutter, three light and regular

taps. When he had gained the angle of the street, he turned.

The door had been opened, and shut again; the mercer`s pretty

wife had disappeared.

D`Artagnan pursued his way. He had given his word not to watch

Mme. Bonacieux, and if his life had depended upon the spot to

which she was going or upon the person who should accompany her,

D`Artagnan would have returned home, since he had so promised.

Five minutes later he was in the Rue des Fossoyeurs.

"Poor Athos!" said he; "he will never guess what all this means.

He will have fallen asleep waiting for me, or else he will have

returned home, where he will have learned that a woman had been

there. A woman with Athos! After all," continued D`Artagnan,

"there was certainly one with Aramis. All this is very strange;

and I am curious to know how it will end."

"Badly, monsieur, badly!" replied a voice which the young man

recognized as that of Planchet; for, soliloquizing aloud, as very

preoccupied people do, he had entered the alley, at the end of

which were the stairs which led to his chamber.

"How badly? What do you mean by that, you idiot?" asked

D`Artagnan. "What has happened?"

"All sorts of misfortunes."

"What?"

"In the first place, Monsieur Athos is arrested."

"Arrested! Athos arrested! What for?"

"He was found in your lodging; they took him for you."

"And by whom was he arrested?"

"By Guards brought by the men in black whom you put to flight."

"Why did he not tell them his name? Why did he not tell them he

knew nothing about this affair?"

"He took care not to do so, monsieur; on the contrary, he came up

to me and said, `It is your master that needs his liberty at this

moment and not I, since he knows everything and I know nothing.

They will believe he is arrested, and that will give him time; in

three days I will tell them who I am, and they cannot fail to let

me go.`"

"Bravo, Athos! Noble heart!" murmured D`Artagnan. "I know him

well there! And what did the officers do?"

"Four conveyed him away, I don`t know where--to the Bastille or

Fort l`Eveque. Two remained with the men in black, who rummaged

every place and took all the papers. The last two mounted guard

at the door during this examination; then, when all was over,

they went away, leaving the house empty and exposed."

"And Porthos and Aramis?"

"I could not find them; they did not come."

"But they may come any moment, for you left word that I awaited

them?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Well, don`t budge, then; if they come, tell them what has

happened. Let them wait for me at the Pomme-de-Pin. Here it

would be dangerous; the house may be watched. I will run to

Monsieur de Treville to tell them all this, and will meet them

there."

"Very well, monsieur," said Planchet.

"But you will remain; you are not afraid?" said D`Artagnan,

coming back to recommend courage to his lackey.

"Be easy, monsieur," said Planchet; "you do not know me yet. I

am brave when I set about it. It is all in beginning. Besides,

I am a Picard."

"Then it is understood," said D`Artagnan; "you would rather be

killed than desert your post?"

"Yes, monsieur; and there is nothing I would not do to prove to

Monsieur that I am attached to him."

"Good!" said D`Artagnan to himself. "It appears that the method

I have adopted with this boy is decidedly the best. I shall use

it again upon occasion."

And with all the swiftness of his legs, already a little fatigued

however, with the perambulations of the day, D`Artagnan directed

his course toward M. de Treville`s.

M. de Treville was not at his hotel. His company was on guard at

the Louvre; he was at the Louvre with his company.

It was necessary to reach M. de Treville; it was important that

he should be informed of what was passing. D`Artagnan resolved

to try and enter the Louvre. His costume of Guardsman in the

company of M. Dessessart ought to be his passport.

He therefore went down the Rue des Petits Augustins, and came up

to the quay, in order to take the New Bridge. He had at first an

idea of crossing by the ferry; but on gaining the riverside, he

had mechanically put his hand into his pocket, and perceived that

he had not wherewithal to pay his passage.

As he gained the top of the Rue Guenegaud, he saw two persons

coming out of the Rue Dauphine whose appearance very much struck

him. Of the two persons who composed this group, one was a man

and the other a woman. The woman had the outline of Mme.

Bonacieux; the man resembled Aramis so much as to be mistaken for

him.

Besides, the woman wore that black mantle which D`Artagnan could

still see outlined on the shutter of the Rue de Vaugirard and on

the door of the Rue de la Harpe; still further, the man wore the

uniform of a Musketeer.

The woman`s hood was pulled down, and the man geld a handkerchief

to his face. Both, as this double precaution indicated, had an

interest in not being recognized.

They took the bridge. That was D`Artagnan`s road, as he was

going to the Louvre. D`Artagnan followed them.

He had not gone twenty steps before he became convinced that the

woman was really Mme. Bonacieux and that the man was Aramis.

He felt at that instant all the suspicions of jealousy agitating

his heart. He felt himself doubly betrayed, by his friend and by

her whom he already loved like a mistress. Mme. Bonacieux had

declared to him, by all the gods, that she did not know Aramis;

and a quarter of an hour after having made this assertion, he

found her hanging on the arm of Aramis.

D`Artagnan did not reflect that he had only known the mercer`s

pretty wife for three hours; that she owed him nothing but a

little gratitude for having delivered her from the men in black,

who wished to carry her off, and that she had promised him

nothing. He considered himself an outraged, betrayed, and

ridiculed lover. Blood and anger mounted to his face; he was

resolved to unravel the mystery.

The young man and young woman perceived they were watched, and

redoubled their speed. D`Artagnan determined upon his course.

He passed them, then returned so as to meet them exactly before

the Samaritaine. Which was illuminated by a lamp which threw its

light over all that part of the bridge.

D`Artagnan stopped before them, and they stopped before him.

"What do you want, monsieur?" demanded the Musketeer, recoiling a

step, and with a foreign accent, which proved to D`Artagnan that

he was deceived in one of his conjectures.

"It is not Aramis!" cried he.

"No, monsieur, it is not Aramis; and by your exclamation I

perceive you have mistaken me for another, and pardon you."

"You pardon me?" cried D`Artagnan.

"Yes," replied the stranger. "Allow me, then, to pass on, since

it is not with me you have anything to do."

"You are right, monsieur, it is not with you that I have anything

to do; it is with Madame."

"With Madame! You do not know her," replied the stranger.

"You are deceived, monsieur; I know her very well."

"Ah," said Mme. Bonacieux; in a tone of reproach, "ah, monsieur,

I had your promise as a soldier and your word as a gentleman. I

hoped to be able to rely upon that."

"And I, madame!" said D`Artagnan, embarrassed; "you promised me--

"

"Take my arm, madame," said the stranger, "and let us continue

our way."

D`Artagnan, however, stupefied, cast down, annihilated by all

that happened, stood, with crossed arms, before the Musketeer and

Mme. Bonacieux.

The Musketeer advanced two steps, and pushed D`Artagnan aside

with his hand. D`Artagnan made a spring backward and drew his

sword. At the same time, and with the rapidity of lightning, the

stranger drew his.

"In the name of heaven, my Lord!" cried Mme. Bonacieux, throwing

herself between the combatants and seizing the swords with her

hands.

"My Lord!" cried D`Artagnan, enlightened by a sudden idea, "my

Lord! Pardon me, monsieur, but you are not--"

"My Lord the Duke of Buckingham," said Mme. Bonacieux, in an

undertone; "and now you may ruin us all."

"My Lord, Madame, I ask a hundred pardons! But I love her, my

Lord, and was jealous. You know what it is to love, my Lord.

Pardon me, and then tell me how I can risk my life to serve your

Grace?"

"You are a brave young man," said Buckingham, holding out his

hand to D`Artagnan, who pressed it respectfully. "You offer me

your services; with the same frankness I accept them. Follow us

at a distance of twenty paces, as far as the Louvre, and if

anyone watches us, slay him!"

D`Artagnan placed his naked sword under his arm, allowed the duke

and Mme. Bonacieux to take twenty steps ahead, and then followed

them, ready to execute the instructions of the noble and elegant

minister of Charles I.

Fortunately, he had no opportunity to give the duke this proof of

his devotion, and the young woman and the handsome Musketeer

entered the Louvre by the wicket of the Echelle without any

interference.

As for D`Artagnan, he immediately repaired to the cabaret of the

Pomme-de-Pin, where he found Porthos and Aramis awaiting him.

Without giving them any explanation of the alarm and

inconvenience he had caused them, he told them that he had

terminated the affair alone in which he had for a moment believed

he should need their assistance.

Meanwhile, carried away as we are by our narrative, we must leave

our three friends to themselves, and follow the Duke of

Buckingham and his guide through the labyrinths of the Louvre.

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 745