The Three Musketeers

“Higher yet!” said the citizen.

“Of Madame de Chevreuse?”

“Higher still!—much higher!”

“Of the———”

And here d’Artagnan paused.

“Yes!” answered the frightened citizen, in such a low voice as scarcely to be audible.

“And who is the other party?” said d’Artagnan.

“Who can it be, if not the Duke of———?” replied the mercer.

“With the Duke of———?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the citizen, in a still lower tone.

“But how do you know all this?”

“How do I know it?” said the mercer.

“Yes! How do you know it? You must tell me all or nothing, you understand,” said d’Artagnan.

“I know it from my wife, sir—from my wife herself.”

“And from whom does she know it?”

“From M. de la Porte. Did I not tell you that she is his god-daughter? Well! M. de la Porte, who is the confidential agent of the queen, had placed her near her majesty, that the poor thing—abandoned as she is by the king, watched as she is by the cardinal, and betrayed as she is by all—might at any rate have some one in whom she could confide.”

“Ah, ah! I begin to understand,” said d’Artagnan.

“Now, sir, my wife came home four days ago. One of the conditions of our marriage was, that she should come and see me twice a week; for, as I have the honour to inform you, she is my love as well as my wife. Well, sir, she came to inform me, in confidence, that the queen is at the present time in great alarm.”

“Really?” said d’Artagnan.

“Yes! the cardinal, as it appears, spies upon her and prosecutes her more than ever; he cannot pardon her the episode of the Sarabande—you know the story of the Sarabande, sir?”

“Egad! I should think I do!” replied d’Artagnan; who knew nothing at all about it, but would not for the world appear ignorant.

“So that it is no longer hatred now, but revenge!” said the citizen.

“Really!” replied d’Artagnan.

“And the queen believes———”

“Well! what does the queen believe?”

“She believes that they have forged a letter in her name to the Duke of Buckingham.”

“In her majesty’s name?”

“Yes, to entice him to Paris; and when they have got him here, to lead him into some snare.”

“The deuce! But your wife, my dear sir—what is her part in all this?”

“They know her devotion to the queen, and want to separate her from her mistress; and either to intimidate her into betraying her majesty’s secrets, or seduce her into serving as a spy upon her.”

“It seems probable!” said d’Artagnan; “but, do you know her abductor?”

“I have told you that I believe I know him!”

“His name?”

“I have not an idea what it is; all I know is that he is a creature of the cardinal—the minister’s tool.”

“But you know him by sight?”

“Yes; my wife pointed him out one day.”

“Has he any mark by which he may be recognised?”

“Yes, certainly; he is a man of aristocratic appearance, and has a dark skin, a tawny complexion, piercing eyes, white teeth, and a scar on his forehead.”

“A scar on his forehead!” cried d’Artagnan; “and with white teeth, piercing eyes, dark complexion, and proud air—it is my man of Meung!”

“Your man, do you say?”

“Yes, yes!” said d’Artagnan; “but that has nothing to do with this affair. Yet I mistake! It has, on the contrary, a great deal to do with it; for if your man is mine also, I shall at one blow perform two acts of revenge.—But where can I meet with him?”

“I have not the slightest idea.”

“Have you no clue to his abode?”

“None whatever. One day, when I accompanied my wife to the Louvre, he came out as she entered, and she pointed him out to me.”

“Plague on it!” murmured d’Artagnan; “this is all very vague. But how did you hear of the abduction of your wife?”

“From M. de la Porte.”

“Did he tell you the details?”

“He knew none.”

“You have got no information from other quarters?”

“Yes, I have received———”