“And if I may without impertinence ask — where are you
going?”
“To seek my friends.”
“What friends?”
“Those that you asked about yesterday.”
“Athos, Porthos and Aramis — you are looking for them?”
“Yes.”
“On honor?”
“What, then, is there surprising in that?”
“Nothing. Queer, though. And in whose behalf are you looking
for them?”
“You are in no doubt on that score.”
“That is true.”
“Unfortunately, I have no idea where they are.”
“And you have no way to get news of them? Wait a week and I
myself will give you some.”
“A week is too long. I must find them within three days.”
“Three days are a short time and France is large.”
“No matter; you know the word must; with that word great
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things are done.”
“And when do you set out?”
“I am now on my road.”
“Good luck to you.”
“And to you — a good journey.”
“Perhaps we shall meet on our road.”
“That is not probable.”
“Who knows? Chance is so capricious. Adieu, till we meet
again! Apropos, should Mazarin speak to you about me, tell
him that I should have requested you to acquaint him that in
a short time he will see whether I am, as he says, too old
for action.”
And Rochefort went away with one of those diabolical smiles
which used formerly to make D’Artagnan shudder, but
D’Artagnan could now see it without alarm, and smiling in
his turn, with an expression of melancholy which the
recollections called up by that smile could, perhaps, alone
give to his countenance, he said:
“Go, demon, do what thou wilt! It matters little now to me.
There’s no second Constance in the world.”
On his return to the cathedral, D’Artagnan saw Bazin, who
was conversing with the sacristan. Bazin was making, with
his spare little short arms, ridiculous gestures. D’Artagnan
perceived that he was enforcing prudence with respect to
himself.
D’Artagnan slipped out of the cathedral and placed himself
in ambuscade at the corner of the Rue des Canettes; it was
impossible that Bazin should go out of the cathedral without
his seeing him.
In five minutes Bazin made his appearance, looking in every
direction to see if he were observed, but he saw no one.
Calmed by appearances he ventured to walk on through the Rue
Notre Dame. Then D’Artagnan rushed out of his hiding place
and arrived in time to see Bazin turn down the Rue de la
Juiverie and enter, in the Rue de la Calandre, a respectable
looking house; and this D’Artagnan felt no doubt was the
habitation of the worthy beadle. Afraid of making any
inquiries at this house, D’Artagnan entered a small tavern
at the corner of the street and asked for a cup of hypocras.
This beverage required a good half-hour to prepare. And
D’Artagnan had time, therefore, to watch Bazin unsuspected.
He perceived in the tavern a pert boy between twelve and
fifteen years of age whom he fancied he had seen not twenty
minutes before under the guise of a chorister. He questioned
him, and as the boy had no interest in deceiving, D’Artagnan
learned that he exercised, from six o’clock in the morning
until nine, the office of chorister, and from nine o’clock
till midnight that of a waiter in the tavern.
Whilst he was talking to this lad a horse was brought to the
door of Bazin’s house. It was saddled and bridled. Almost
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immediately Bazin came downstairs.
“Look!” said the boy, “there’s our beadle, who is going a
journey.”
“And where is he going?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Forsooth, I don’t know.”
“Half a pistole if you can find out,” said D’Artagnan.
“For me?” cried the boy, his eyes sparkling with joy, “if I
can find out where Bazin is going? That is not difficult.
You are not joking, are you?”
“No, on the honor of an officer; there is the half-pistole;”
and he showed him the seductive coin, but did not give it
him.
“I shall ask him.”
“Just the very way not to know. Wait till he is set out and
then, marry, come up, ask, and find out. The half-pistole is