or three visits from the
Comte de Rochefort, who had become the best friend of Bonacieux, and had
persuaded him, without much trouble, was putting his house in order,
the furniture of which he had found mostly broken and his closets nearly
empty--justice not being one of the three things which King Solomon
names as leaving no traces of their passage. As to the servant, she had
run away at the moment of her master's arrest. Terror had had such an
effect upon the poor girl that she had never ceased walking from Paris
till she reached Burgundy, her native place.

The worthy mercer had, immediately upon re-entering his house, informed
his wife of his happy return, and his wife had replied by congratulating
him, and telling him that the first moment she could steal from her
duties should be devoted to paying him a visit.

This first moment had been delayed five days, which, under any other
circumstances, might have appeared rather long to M. Bonacieux; but
he had, in the visit he had made to the cardinal and in the visits
Rochefort had made him, ample subjects for reflection, and as everybody
knows, nothing makes time pass more quickly than reflection.

This was the more so because Bonacieux's reflections were all
rose-colored. Rochefort called him his friend, his dear Bonacieux, and
never ceased telling him that the cardinal had a great respect for
him. The mercer fancied himself already on the high road to honors and
fortune.

On her side Mme. Bonacieux had also reflected; but, it must be admitted,
upon something widely different from ambition. In spite of herself her
thoughts constantly reverted to that handsome young man who was so brave
and appeared to be so much in love. Married at eighteen to M. Bonacieux,
having always lived among her husband's friends--people little capable
of inspiring any sentiment whatever in a young woman whose heart was
above her position--Mme. Bonacieux had remained insensible to vulgar
seductions; but at this period the title of gentleman had great
influence with the citizen class, and d'Artagnan was a gentleman.
Besides, he wore the uniform of the Guards, which next to that of the
Musketeers was most admired by the ladies. He was, we repeat, handsome,
young, and bold; he spoke of love like a man who did love and was
anxious to be loved in return. There was certainly enough in all this
to turn a head only twenty-three years old, and Mme. Bonacieux had just
attained that happy period of li