“And you did not know that a young man occupied it?”
“No.”
“A musketeer?”
“By no means.”
“Then it was not him that you came to look for?”
“Most assuredly not! Besides, you must have plainly seen that the person whom I talked to was a woman.”
“That is true; but then this woman is one of Aramis’s friends!”
“I know nothing about that.”
“Why, she lodges at his house.”
“That is not my affair.”
“But who is she?”
“Oh! that is not my secret.”
“My dear Madame Bonancieux, you are very charming, but you are at the same time the most mysterious creature.”
“Is that to my loss?”
“No; on the contrary, it lends you enchantment!”
“As that is the case, give me your arm.”
“With great pleasure; what now?”
“Now take care of me.”
“Where to?”
“Where I am going.”
“But where may that be?”
“You will see, since you will leave me at the door.”
“May I wait for you there?”
“That would be useless.”
“Then you will return alone?”
“Possibly.”
“But the person who will accompany you afterwards—will it be a man or a woman?”
“I do not know yet.”
“But I will find out.”
“And how so?”
“I will wait to see you come out.”
“In that case, adieu!”
“But, why?”
“I do not want you!”
“But you claimed my protection.”
“I claimed the assistance of a gentleman, and not the vigilance of a spy.”
“You are severe.”
“How would you call those who follow people who don’t want them?”
“Indiscreet!”
“The term is too mild!”
“Come, madame, I see that one must obey you.”
“Why deprive yourself of the merit of doing so at once?”
“Is there none in my repentance?”
“But do you sincerely repent?”
“I don’t know that myself. But I do know that I promise to do just what you wish, if you will let me accompany you where you are going.”
“And you will leave me afterwards?”
“Yes.”
“Without awaiting my exit?”
“Certainly.”
“On your word of honour?”
“On the word of a gentleman!”
“Then take my arm, and let us get on.”
D’Artagnan offered his arm, which Madame Bonancieux, half laughing and half trembling, accepted, and they reached the top of the Rue de la Harpe; but the young woman appeared to hesitate there, as she had hesitated before at the Rue Vaugirard. Nevertheless, by certain marks, she appeared to recognise a door, which she approached.
“Now, sir,” said she, “it is here that my business calls me. I return you a thousand thanks for your good company, which has saved me from all the dangers to which I should have been exposed alone; but the time is now come for you to keep your word. You must leave me here.”
“And will you be exposed to no danger in returning?”
“I shall only have to fear robbers.”
“Is that nothing?”
“What could they take from me? I have not a farthing in my possession!”
“You forget that beautiful embroidered handkerchief, with the arms on it.”
“Which?”
“That which I found at your feet, and replaced in your pocket.”
“Silence! Silence! you imprudent man! Would you ruin me?”
“You see now that there is still some danger, since one word makes you tremble, and you confess that if this word was heard you would be ruined. Come now, madame,” continued d’Artagnan, seizing her hand, “be more generous; put some confidence in me; have you not read in my eyes that my heart is full of sympathy and devotion?”
“Yes,” said Madame Bonancieux; “and do but ask me for my own secrets, and I will trust you with them all; but those of others are a different matter.”
“Very well!” replied d’Artagnan, “then I will find them out. Since these secrets have an influence on your life, it is necessary that they should become mine also.”
“Have a care!” exclaimed the young woman, in a tone of seriousness which made d’Artagnan shudder involuntarily. “Oh! do not interfere in anything that concerns me; do not seek to aid me in any of my undertakings;—avoid them, I beseech you, in the name of the interest that you feel for me, and in the name of that service which you rendered to me, and which I never shall forget whilst my life lasts! Let me advise you rather to think of me no more; let my existence be obliterated from your mind; let me be to you as though you had never chanced to see me.”
“Would you like Aramis to do the same, madame?” asked d’Artagnan, full of jealousy.
“This makes the second or third time that you have mentioned that name, sir, although I have already told you that I do not know the owner of it.”
“You do not know the man at whose window-shutters you went to knock? Come, madame, you must think me credulous indeed!”
“Confess that it is to keep me talking here, that you have invented this tale, and this person.”
“I invent nothing, madame—nothing. I am telling the exact truth!”
“And you say that one of your friends lives in that house?”
“I say it, and I repeat it for the third time—that house is inhabited by a friend of mine, and that friend is Aramis.”
“All this will be explained by and by,” murmured the young woman; “and now, sir, be silent.”
“If you could see into my heart,” said d’Artagnan, “you would discover so much curiosity, that you would have pity on me: and so much love, that you would directly satisfy my curiosity. You ought not to distrust those who love you!”
“You come quickly to love, sir,” said the young woman, shaking her head.
“It is because love has come quickly on me, and for the first time; and I am not yet twenty years of age.”
The young woman stole a glance at him.
“Listen,” continued d’Artagnan; “I am already on the track: three months ago I was near fighting a duel with Aramis on account of a handkerchief like that which you showed the lady who was at his