A terrible inclination seized d’Artagnan to grasp the mercer by the throat and strangle him; but, as we have said, he was a very prudent youth, and he restrained himself. However, the revolution which appeared upon his countenance was so visible that Bonacieux was terrified at it, and he endeavored to draw back a step or two; but as he was standing before the half of the door which was shut, the obstacle compelled him to keep his place.
“Ah, but you are joking, my worthy man!” said d’Artagnan. It appears to me that if my boots need a sponge, your stockings and shoes stand in equal need of a brush. May you not have been philandering a little also, Monsieur Bonacieux? Oh, the devil! That’s unpardonable in a man of your age, and who besides, has such a pretty wife as yours.”
“Oh, Lord! no,” said Bonacieux, “but yesterday I went to St. Mande to make some inquiries after a servant, as I cannot possibly do without one; and the roads were so bad that I brought back all this mud, which I have not yet had time to remove.”
The place named by Bonacieux as that which had been the object of his journey was a fresh proof in support of the suspicions d’Artagnan had conceived. Bonacieux had named Mande because Mande was in an exactly opposite direction from St. Cloud. This probability afforded him his first consolation. If Bonacieux knew where his wife was, one might, by extreme means, force the mercer to open his teeth and let his secret escape. The question, then, was how to change this probability into a certainty.
“Pardon, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, if I don’t stand upon ceremony,” said d’Artagnan, “but nothing makes one so thirsty as want of sleep. I am parched with thirst. Allow me to take a glass of water in your apartment; you know that is never refused among neighbors.”
Without waiting for the permission of his host, d’Artagnan went quickly into the house, and cast a rapid glance at the bed. It had not been used. Bonacieux had not been abed. He had only been back an hour or two; he had accompanied his wife to the place of her confinement, or else at least to the first relay.
“Thanks, Monsieur Bonacieux,” said d’Artagnan, emptying his glass, “that is all I wanted of you. I will now go up into my apartment. I will make Planchet brush my boots; and when he has done, I will, if you like, send him to you to brush your shoes.”
He left the mercer quite astonished at his singular farewell, and asking himself if he had not been a little inconsiderate.
At the top of the stairs he found Planchet in a great fright.
“Ah, monsieur!” cried Planchet, as soon as he perceived his master, “here is more trouble. I thought you would never come in.”
“What’s the matter now, Planchet?” demanded d’Artagnan.
“Oh! I give you a hundred, I give you a thousand times to guess, monsieur, the visit I received in your absence.”
“When?”
“About half an hour ago, while you were at Monsieur de Treville’s.”
“Who has been here? Come, speak.”
“Monsieur de Cavois.”
“Monsieur de Cavois?”
“In person.”
“The captain of the cardinal’s Guards?”
“Himself.”
“Did he come to arrest me?”
“I have no doubt that he did, monsieur, for all his wheedling manner.”
“Was he so sweet, then?”
“Indeed, he was all honey, monsieur.”
“Indeed!”
“He came, he said, on the part of his Eminence, who wished you well, and to beg you to follow him to the Palais-Royal.”*
*It was called the Palais-Cardinal before Richelieu gave it to the King.
“What did you answer him?”
“That the thing was impossible, seeing that you were not at home, as he could see.”
“Well, what did he say then?”
“That you must not fail to call upon him in the course of the day; and then he added in a low voice, ‘Tell your master that his Eminence is very well disposed toward him, and that his fortune perhaps depends upon this interview.'”
“The snare is rather MALADROIT for the cardinal,” replied the young man, smiling.