The Three Musketeers. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ said the young woman, in a tone of supplication, clasping her hands as she spoke; “in the name of heaven, by the honour of a soldier, by the courtesy of a gentleman, I implore you to leave me. See! it is now striking twelve, the very hour at which I am expected.”

      “Madame,” said the young man, bowing, “I can refuse nothing solicited in those terms. Be reassured; I leave you.”

      “But you will not follow—will not watch me?”

      “No, I shall return home immediately.”

      “Ah! I was convinced that you were an honourable man!” exclaimed Madame Bonancieux, offering one of her hands to him, as she placed the other on the knocker of a small door, which was well-nigh concealed in a recess.

      D’Artagnan seized the hand which was offered to him, and kissed it eagerly.

      “Alas!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, with that unpolished simplicity which women sometimes prefer to the delicacies of politeness, because it illuminates the depths of thought, and proves that feeling is more powerful than reason, “I wish I had never seen you!”

      “Well!” said Madame Bonancieux, in a tone almost affectionate, and pressing the hand which held hers, “well! I will not say the same as you do; that which is lost today may not be lost for ever. Who knows whether, when I am freed from my present embarrassments, I may not satisfy your curiosity?”

      “And do you make the same promise regarding my love?” asked the overjoyed d’Artagnan.

      “Oh! I dare give no promises in that respect. It must depend upon the sentiments with which you may inspire me.”

      “But, at present, madame?”

      “At present, sir, I have not got beyond gratitude.”

      “Alas! you are too charming; and only take advantage of my love.”

      “No, I take advantage of your generosity, that’s all. But, believe me, with some people, nothing can be wholly lost.”

      “You make me the happiest of men. Oh! do not forget this evening, and this promise?”

      “Be assured, I will remember everything at the right time and place. But now go; go, in heaven’s name! I was expected at midnight, and am behind my time.”

      “By five minutes.”

      “But, under certain circumstances, five minutes are five ages.”

      “Yes! when one loves.”

      “Well, who has told you that this is not a love-affair?”

      “It is a man who expects you!” cried d’Artagnan; “a man!”

      “There, now, the discussion is about to be renewed,” cried Madame Bonancieux, with a half smile, which was not altogether exempt from impatience.

      “No! I am going. I trust you; I wish to have all the merit of my devotion, even if I am a fool for it! Adieu! madame, adieu.”

      Then, as though he felt himself too weak to relinquish the fair hand he held but by a shock, he hastily ran off, whilst Madame Bonancieux rapped three times at the door, slowly and regularly, as she had before done at the window-shutter.

      At the corner of the street he turned, but the door had been opened and closed again, and the mercer’s pretty wife had disappeared.

      D’Artagnan proceeded on his way. He had promised Madame Bonancieux not to watch her; and, had his life depended on a knowledge of the place that she was going to, or the person who went with her, he would still have gone home, as he had promised to do. In five minutes he was in the Rue des Fossoyeurs.

      “Poor Athos,” said he, “he will not understand this. He will have fallen asleep waiting for me, or he will have returned home, and will have learned that there has been a woman there. A woman at his house! After all,” continued d’Artagnan, “there certainly was one at Aramis’s. All this is very strange, and I shall be extremely curious to know how it will end.”

      “Badly, sir, badly,” replied a voice, which the young man recognised as that of Planchet, for in soliloquising aloud, in the manner of persons who are deeply occupied, he had entered the passage, at the bottom of which was his own staircase.

      “How, badly! what are you saying, you fool?” said d’Artagnan, “and what has happened?”

      “All sorts of misfortunes.”

      “What misfortunes?”

      “In the first place, M. Athos is arrested.”

      “Arrested! Athos arrested! and what for?”

      “He was found in your lodgings, and they mistook him for you.”

      “And by whom has he been arrested?”

      “By the guard which was brought by the men in black whom you put to flight.”

      “Why did he not give his name? Why not say that he was not concerned in this affair?”

      “He was very careful not to do that, sir. On the contrary, he came near me and said—‘Thy master wants his liberty just now, and I do not need mine; since he knows all, and I know nothing. They will believe him to be in custody, and that will give him time; in three days I will declare who I am, and they will be obliged to let me go.’”

      “Brave Athos! noble heart!” muttered d’Artagnan. “I recognise him well in that! And what did the officers do?”

      “Four of them took him either to the Bastile or to Fort l’Eveque; and two remained with the men in black, rummaging everywhere, and carrying away all your papers. The other two mounted guard at the door whilst all this was doing; and at last they went away, leaving the house empty and the door open.”

      “And Porthos and Aramis?”

      “I could not find them; they have not been.”

      “But they may come at any moment, for you left word that I was waiting for them.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Well, then, do not stir from here. If they should come, tell them what has happened, and that they must wait for me at the Pineapple Tavern. There might be some danger here; the house may be watched. I will run to M. de Treville’s, to tell him all this, and then will rejoin them there.”

      “Very well, sir,” said Planchet.

      “But you will remain? you will not be afraid,” said d’Artagnan, turning back a step to encourage his lackey.

      “Be easy, sir,” said Planchet; “you do not know me yet. I am brave when I please to set about it; the great thing is to get me in the right mind. Besides, I come from Picardy.”

      “Then it is all settled,” said d’Artagnan; “you will rather die than desert your post.”

      “Yes, sir; and I will stick at nothing to prove my attachment to you.”

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