The D'Artagnan Romances - Complete Series (All 6 Books in One Edition). Alexandre Dumas

an instant drew round them a hundred gapers.

      D’Artagnan profited by the circumstance to speak to M. de Treville of the letter with the great red seal and the cardinal’s arms. It is well understood that he did not breathe a word about the other.

      M. de Treville approved of the resolution he had adopted, and assured him that if on the morrow he did not appear, he himself would undertake to find him, let him be where he might.

      At this moment the clock of La Samaritaine struck six; the four friends pleaded an engagement, and took leave of M. de Treville.

      A short gallop brought them to the road of Chaillot; the day began to decline, carriages were passing and repassing. d’Artagnan, keeping at some distance from his friends, darted a scrutinizing glance into every carriage that appeared, but saw no face with which he was acquainted.

      At length, after waiting a quarter of an hour and just as twilight was beginning to thicken, a carriage appeared, coming at a quick pace on the road of Sevres. A presentiment instantly told d’Artagnan that this carriage contained the person who had appointed the rendezvous; the young man was himself astonished to find his heart beat so violently. Almost instantly a female head was put out at the window, with two fingers placed upon her mouth, either to enjoin silence or to send him a kiss. D’Artagnan uttered a slight cry of joy; this woman, or rather this apparition—for the carriage passed with the rapidity of a vision—was Mme. Bonacieux.

      By an involuntary movement and in spite of the injunction given, d’Artagnan put his horse into a gallop, and in a few strides overtook the carriage; but the window was hermetically closed, the vision had disappeared.

      D’Artagnan then remembered the injunction: “If you value your own life or that of those who love you, remain motionless, and as if you had seen nothing.”

      He stopped, therefore, trembling not for himself but for the poor woman who had evidently exposed herself to great danger by appointing this rendezvous.

      The carriage pursued its way, still going at a great pace, till it dashed into Paris, and disappeared.

      D’Artagnan remained fixed to the spot, astounded and not knowing what to think. If it was Mme. Bonacieux and if she was returning to Paris, why this fugitive rendezvous, why this simple exchange of a glance, why this lost kiss? If, on the other side, it was not she—which was still quite possible—for the little light that remained rendered a mistake easy—might it not be the commencement of some plot against him through the allurement of this woman, for whom his love was known?

      His three companions joined him. All had plainly seen a woman’s head appear at the window, but none of them, except Athos, knew Mme. Bonacieux. The opinion of Athos was that it was indeed she; but less preoccupied by that pretty face than d’Artagnan, he had fancied he saw a second head, a man’s head, inside the carriage.

      “If that be the case,” said d’Artagnan, “they are doubtless transporting her from one prison to another. But what can they intend to do with the poor creature, and how shall I ever meet her again?”

      “Friend,” said Athos, gravely, “remember that it is the dead alone with whom we are not likely to meet again on this earth. You know something of that, as well as I do, I think. Now, if your mistress is not dead, if it is she we have just seen, you will meet with her again some day or other. And perhaps, my God!” added he, with that misanthropic tone which was peculiar to him, “perhaps sooner than you wish.”

      Half past seven had sounded. The carriage had been twenty minutes behind the time appointed. D’Artagnan’s friends reminded him that he had a visit to pay, but at the same time bade him observe that there was yet time to retract.

      But d’Artagnan was at the same time impetuous and curious. He had made up his mind that he would go to the Palais-Cardinal, and that he would learn what his Eminence had to say to him. Nothing could turn him from his purpose.

      They reached the Rue St. Honore, and in the Place du Palais-Cardinal they found the twelve invited Musketeers, walking about in expectation of their comrades. There only they explained to them the matter in hand.

      D’Artagnan was well known among the honorable corps of the king’s Musketeers, in which it was known he would one day take his place; he was considered beforehand as a comrade. It resulted from these antecedents that everyone entered heartily into the purpose for which they met; besides, it would not be unlikely that they would have an opportunity of playing either the cardinal or his people an ill turn, and for such expeditions these worthy gentlemen were always ready.

      Athos divided them into three groups, assumed the command of one, gave the second to Aramis, and the third to Porthos; and then each group went and took their watch near an entrance.

      D’Artagnan, on his part, entered boldly at the principal gate.

      Although he felt himself ably supported, the young man was not without a little uneasiness as he ascended the great staircase, step by step. His conduct toward Milady bore a strong resemblance to treachery, and he was very suspicious of the political relations which existed between that woman and the cardinal. Still further, de Wardes, whom he had treated so ill, was one of the tools of his Eminence; and d’Artagnan knew that while his Eminence was terrible to his enemies, he was strongly attached to his friends.

      “If de Wardes has related all our affair to the cardinal, which is not to be doubted, and if he has recognized me, as is probable, I may consider myself almost as a condemned man,” said d’Artagnan, shaking his head. “But why has he waited till now? That’s all plain enough. Milady has laid her complaints against me with that hypocritical grief which renders her so interesting, and this last offense has made the cup overflow.”

      “Fortunately,” added he, “my good friends are down yonder, and they will not allow me to be carried away without a struggle. Nevertheless, Monsieur de Treville’s company of Musketeers alone cannot maintain a war against the cardinal, who disposes of the forces of all France, and before whom the queen is without power and the king without will. d’Artagnan, my friend, you are brave, you are prudent, you have excellent qualities; but the women will ruin you!”

      He came to this melancholy conclusion as he entered the antechamber. He placed his letter in the hands of the usher on duty, who led him into the waiting room and passed on into the interior of the palace.

      In this waiting room were five or six of the cardinals Guards, who recognized d’Artagnan, and knowing that it was he who had wounded Jussac, they looked upon him with a smile of singular meaning.

      This smile appeared to d’Artagnan to be of bad augury. Only, as our Gascon was not easily intimidated—or rather, thanks to a great pride natural to the men of his country, he did not allow one easily to see what was passing in his mind when that which was passing at all resembled fear—he placed himself haughtily in front of Messieurs the Guards, and waited with his hand on his hip, in an attitude by no means deficient in majesty.

      The usher returned and made a sign to d’Artagnan to follow him. It appeared to the young man that the Guards, on seeing him depart, chuckled among themselves.

      He traversed a corridor, crossed a grand saloon, entered a library, and found himself in the presence of a man seated at a desk and writing.

      The usher introduced him, and retired without speaking a word. D’Artagnan remained standing and examined this man.

      D’Artagnan at first believed that he had to do with some judge examining his papers; but he perceived that the man at the desk wrote, or rather corrected, lines of unequal length, scanning the words on his fingers. He saw then that he was with a poet. At the end of an instant the poet closed his manuscript, upon the cover of which was written “Mirame, a Tragedy in Five Acts,” and raised his head.

      D’Artagnan recognized the cardinal.

Chapter 40 A TERRIBLE VISION

      The cardinal leaned his elbow on his manuscript, his cheek upon his hand, and