The Three Musketeers. Alexandre Dumas

whom I convoyed her.”

      “And how many linen-drapers were there?”

      “Two, my lord.”

      “Where do they live?”

      “One in the Rue Vaugirard, and the other in the Rue de la Harpe.”

      “Did you accompany your wife into these houses?”

      “Never, my lord. I always waited for her at the door.”

      “And what excuse did she make for entering alone?”

      “None: she told me to wait, and I waited.”

      “You are a most accommodating husband, my dear M. Bonancieux,” said the cardinal.

      “He has called me ‘my dear monsieur,’” said the mercer to himself. “‘Pon my faith, things are taking a good turn.”

      “Should you know those doors again?”

      “Yes.”

      “Do you know the numbers?”

      “Yes.”

      “What are they?”

      “No. 25 in the Rue Vaugirard, and No. 75 in the Rue de la Harpe.”

      “Good!” said the cardinal; and, taking a silver bell, he rang it.

      “Go,” said he in a low voice, to the officer who entered—“go and find Rochefort, and tell him to come here directly, if he is within.”

      “The count is already here,” said the officer, “and requests an immediate audience of your eminence.”

      “Your eminence!” muttered Bonancieux, who knew that such was the title ordinarily given to the cardinal; “your eminence!”

      “Let him come in, then, let him come in!” said Richelieu eagerly.

      The officer hurried out of the room with that rapidity with which the cardinal was generally obeyed by his followers.

      “Your eminence!” again muttered Bonancieux, rolling his eyes in astonishment.

      Two seconds had scarcely elapsed after the officer left the room before the door opened again, and another person entered.

      “It is he!” exclaimed Bonancieux.

      “Who is he?” demanded the cardinal.

      “He who ran away with my wife.”

      The cardinal rang a second time, and the officer reappeared.

      “Put this man into the hands of the two guards, and let him wait till I send for him.”

      “No, my lord, no, it is not he!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “no, I was mistaken; it is another person, not at all like him. The gentleman is an honest man.”

      “Take away that simpleton!” said the cardinal.

      The officer took him by the arm, and led him to the antechamber, where he was met by the two guards.

      The person who had last entered impatiently followed Bonancieux with his eyes till he was gone, and, when the door was closed behind him—

      “They have met,” he said, eagerly approaching the cardinal.

      “Who?” demanded the cardinal.

      “Those two.”

      “The queen and the duke!” cried the cardinal.

      “Yes.”

      “And where?”

      “At the Louvre!”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Perfectly sure!”

      “Who told you of it?”

      “Madame de Lannoy, who is entirely devoted to your eminence, as you well know!”

      “Why did she not tell you sooner?”

      “Either by chance, or by mistrust, the queen made Madame de Surgis sleep in her room, and kept it throughout the day.”

      “Very well; we have been beaten; let us try to have our revenge.”

      “Be assured that I will assist your eminence with all my soul.”

      “How did this happen?”

      “At half-past twelve the queen was with her women.”

      “Where?”

      “In her bed-chamber, where a pocket-handkerchief was brought her from her seamstress.”

      “Well?”

      “The queen immediately showed great emotion; and grew pale, under her rouge.”

      “Well! what then?”

      “Nevertheless, she arose; and, in an agitated voice said, ‘ladies, wait ten minutes for me; I will return.’ Then, opening the door of her alcove, she went out.”

      “Why did not Madame de Lannoy come and tell you directly?”

      “There was no certainty about the matter; besides, the queen had said, ‘ladies, wait for me.’ And Madame de Lannoy dared not disobey her majesty.”

      “And how long did the queen remain absent from her room?”

      “Three-quarters of an hour.”

      “Did none of her women accompany her?”

      “Only Donna Estefana.”

      “And she returned?”

      “Yes, but only to take a small rosewood casket, bearing her initials, with which she went out again directly.”

      “And when she came back, finally, did she bring the casket with her?”

      “No!”

      “Does Madame de Lannoy know what the casket contained?”

      “Yes! the diamond studs which his majesty presented to the queen.”

      “And she came back without the casket?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then the opinion of Madame de Lannoy is, that she gave this casket to Buckingham?”

      “She is sure of it.”

      “How so?”

      “During the day, Madame de Lannoy, in her office of tirewoman to the queen, looked for this casket, appeared uneasy at not finding it, and ended by inquiring for it of the queen.”

      “And then the queen———”

      “The queen blushed deeply, and answered that, having the evening before broken one of the studs, she had sent it to her jeweller’s to be repaired.”

      “You must go there, and ascertain whether that is true, or not.”

      “I have been.”

      “Well, and the goldsmith———?”

      “The goldsmith has heard nothing about it.”

      “Good! good! Rochefort, all is not lost, and perhaps—perhaps all is for the best!”

      “The fact is, that I have no doubt but what the genius of your eminence———”

      “May repair the errors of my agent! Is that what you mean?”

      “It was just what I was about to say, if your eminence had permitted me to finish the sentence.”

      “Now, do you know where the Duchesse de Chevreuse and the Duke of Buckingham concealed themselves?”

      “No, my lord; my agents have no positive information upon that point.”

      “I know it myself,