LITMIR.BIZ

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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, 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

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