But the more the young woman excused herself, the more important Bonacieux thought the secret which she declined to confide to him. He resolved then to hasten immediately to the residence of the Comte de Rochefort, and tell him that the queen was seeking for a messenger to send to London.
“Pardon me for quitting you, my dear Madame Bonacieux,” said he; “but, not knowing you would come to see me, I had made an engagement with a friend. I shall soon return; and if you will wait only a few minutes for me, as soon as I have concluded my business with that friend, as it is growing late, I will come back and reconduct you to the Louvre.”
“Thank you, monsieur, you are not brave enough to be of any use to me whatever,” replied Mme. Bonacieux. “I shall return very safely to the Louvre all alone.”
“As you please, Madame Bonacieux,” said the ex-mercer. “Shall I see you again soon?”
“Next week I hope my duties will afford me a little liberty, and I will take advantage of it to come and put things in order here, as they must necessarily be much deranged.”
“Very well; I shall expect you. You are not angry with me?”
“Not the least in the world.”
“Till then, then?”
“Till then.”
Bonacieux kissed his wife’s hand, and set off at a quick pace.
“Well,” said Mme. Bonacieux, when her husband had shut the street door and she found herself alone; “that imbecile lacked but one thing to become a cardinalist. And I, who have answered for him to the queen–I, who have promised my poor mistress–ah, my God, my God! She will take me for one of those wretches with whom the palace swarms and who are placed about her as spies! Ah, Monsieur Bonacieux, I never did love you much, but now it is worse than ever. I hate you, and on my word you shall pay for this!”
At the moment she spoke these words a rap on the ceiling made her raise her head, and a voice which reached her through the ceiling cried, “Dear Madame Bonacieux, open for me the little door on the alley, and I will come down to you.”
18 LOVER AND HUSBAND
“Ah, Madame,” said d’Artagnan, entering by the door which the young woman opened for him, “allow me to tell you that you have a bad sort of a husband.”
“You have, then, overheard our conversation?” asked Mme. Bonacieux, eagerly, and looking at d’Artagnan with disquiet.
“The whole.”
“But how, my God?”
“By a mode of proceeding known to myself, and by which I likewise overheard the more animated conversation which had with the cardinal’s police.”
“And what did you understand by what we said?”
“A thousand things. In the first place, that, unfortunately, your husband is a simpleton and a fool; in the next place, you are in trouble, of which I am very glad, as it gives me a opportunity of placing myself at your service, and God knows I am ready to throw myself into the fire for you; finally, that the queen wants a brave, intelligent, devoted man to make a journey to London for her. I have at least two of the three qualities you stand in need of, and here I am.
Mme. Bonacieux made no reply; but her heart beat with joy and secret hope shone in her eyes.
“And what guarantee will you give me,” asked she, “if I consent to confide this message to you?”
“My love for you. Speak! Command! What is to be done?”
“My God, my God!” murmured the young woman, “ought I to confide such a secret to you, monsieur? You are almost a boy.”
“I see that you require someone to answer for me?”
“I admit that would reassure me greatly.”
“Do you know Athos?”
“No.”
“Porthos?”
“No.”
“Aramis?”
“No. Who are these gentleman?”
“Three of the king’s Musketeers. Do you know Monsieur de Treville, their captain?”
“Oh, yes, him! I know him; not personally, but from having heard the queen speak of him more than once as a brave and loyal gentleman.”
“You do not fear lest he should betray you to the cardinal?”