er if I were to go home."

"Be easy. Adieu, and a prosperous voyage. A PROPOS," said M. de
Treville, calling him back.

D'Artagnan returned.

"Have you any money?"

D'Artagnan tapped the bag he had in his pocket.

"Enough?" asked M. de Treville.

"Three hundred pistoles."

"Oh, plenty! That would carry you to the end of the world. Begone,
then!"

D'Artagnan saluted M. de Treville, who held out his hand to him;
d'Artagnan pressed it with a respect mixed with gratitude. Since his
first arrival at Paris, he had had constant occasion to honor this
excellent man, whom he had always found worthy, loyal, and great.

His first visit was to Aramis, at whose residence he had not been
since the famous evening on which he had followed Mme. Bonacieux. Still
further, he had seldom seen the young Musketeer; but every time he had
seen him, he had remarked a deep sadness imprinted on his countenance.

This evening, especially, Aramis was melancholy and thoughtful.
d'Artagnan asked some questions about this prolonged melancholy. Aramis
pleaded as his excuse a commentary upon the eighteenth chapter of St.
Augustine, which he was forced to write in Latin for the following week,
and which preoccupied him a good deal.

After the two friends had been chatting a few moments, a servant from M.
de Treville entered, bringing a sealed packet.

"What is that?" asked Aramis.

"The leave of absence Monsieur has asked for," replied the lackey.

"For me! I have asked for no leave of absence."

"Hold your tongue and take it!" said d'Artagnan. "And you, my friend,
there is a demipistole for your trouble; you will tell Monsieur de
Treville that Monsieur Aramis is very much obliged to him. Go."

The lackey bowed to the ground and departed.

"What does all this mean?" asked Aramis.

"Pack up all you want for a journey of a fortnight, and follow me."

"But I cannot leave Paris just now without knowing--"

Aramis stopped.

"What is become of her? I suppose you mean--" continued d'Artagnan.

"Become of whom?" replied Aramis.

"The woman who was here--the woman with the embroidered handkerchief."

"Who told you there was a woman here?" replied Aramis, becoming as pale
as death.

"I saw her."

"And you know who she is?"

"I believe I can guess, at least."

"Listen!" said Aramis. "Since you appear to know so many things, can you
tell me what is become of that woman?"

"I presume that she has returned to Tours."

"To Tours?