man."

"You say so."

"I am a gallant fellow."

"I believe it."

"I am brave."

"Oh, I am sure of that!"

"Then, put me to the proof."

Mme. Bonacieux looked at the young man, restrained for a minute by
a last hesitation; but there was such an ardor in his eyes, such
persuasion in his voice, that she felt herself constrained to confide in
him. Besides, she found herself in circumstances where everything must
be risked for the sake of everything. The queen might be as much injured
by too much reticence as by too much confidence; and--let us admit
it--the involuntary sentiment which she felt for her young protector
decided her to speak.

"Listen," said she; "I yield to your protestations, I yield to your
assurances. But I swear to you, before God who hears us, that if you
betray me, and my enemies pardon me, I will kill myself, while accusing
you of my death."

"And I--I swear to you before God, madame," said d'Artagnan, "that if I
am taken while accomplishing the orders you give me, I will die sooner
than do anything that may compromise anyone."

Then the young woman confided in him the terrible secret of which chance
had already communicated to him a part in front of the Samaritaine. This
was their mutual declaration of love.

D'Artagnan was radiant with joy and pride. This secret which he
possessed, this woman whom he loved! Confidence and love made him a
giant.

"I go," said he; "I go at once."

"How, you will go!" said Mme. Bonacieux; "and your regiment, your
captain?"

"By my soul, you had made me forget all that, dear Constance! Yes, you
are right; a furlough is needful."

"Still another obstacle," murmured Mme. Bonacieux, sorrowfully.

"As to that," cried d'Artagnan, after a moment of reflection, "I shall
surmount it, be assured."

"How so?"

"I will go this very evening to Treville, whom I will request to ask
this favor for me of his brother-in-law, Monsieur Dessessart."

"But another thing."

"What?" asked d'Artagnan, seeing that Mme. Bonacieux hesitated to
continue.

"You have, perhaps, no money?"

"PERHAPS is too much," said d'Artagnan, smiling.

"Then," replied Mme. Bonacieux, opening a cupboard and taking from
it the very bag which a half hour before her husband had caressed so
affectionately, "take this bag."

"The cardinal's?" cried d'Artagnan, breaking into a loud laugh, he
having heard, as may be remembered, thanks to the broken boards, every
syllable of the conversati