nt. At length, after
winding about for a minute or two, Mme. Bonacieux opened the door of a
closet, which was entirely dark, and led d'Artagnan into it. There she
made a fresh sign of silence, and opened a second door concealed by
tapestry. The opening of this door disclosed a brilliant light, and she
disappeared.

D'Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where he
could be; but soon a ray of light which penetrated through the chamber,
together with the warm and perfumed air which reached him from the same
aperture, the conversation of two of three ladies in language at once
respectful and refined, and the word "Majesty" several times repeated,
indicated clearly that he was in a closet attached to the queen's
apartment. The young man waited in comparative darkness and listened.

The queen appeared cheerful and happy, which seemed to astonish the
persons who surrounded her and who were accustomed to see her almost
always sad and full of care. The queen attributed this joyous feeling
to the beauty of the fete, to the pleasure she had experienced in the
ballet; and as it is not permissible to contradict a queen, whether she
smile or weep, everybody expatiated on the gallantry of the aldermen of
the city of Paris.

Although d'Artagnan did not at all know the queen, he soon distinguished
her voice from the others, at first by a slightly foreign accent, and
next by that tone of domination naturally impressed upon all royal
words. He heard her approach and withdraw from the partially open door;
and twice or three times he even saw the shadow of a person intercept
the light.

At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in their form and
whiteness, glided through the tapestry. D'Artagnan at once comprehended
that this was his recompense. He cast himself on his knees, seized
the hand, and touched it respectfully with his lips. Then the hand was
withdrawn, leaving in his an object which he perceived to be a ring. The
door immediately closed, and d'Artagnan found himself again in complete
obscurity.

D'Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it was
evident that all was not yet over. After the reward of his devotion,
that of his love was to come. Besides, although the ballet was danced,
the evening had scarcely begun. Supper was to be served at three, and
the clock of St. Jean had struck three quarters past two.

The sound of voices diminished by degrees in the adjoining chamber. Th