'Artagnan, sighing, "we are
unfortunately no longer in those times in which princes would care to
assassinate me. Those were good old days; never fear--these people owe
us no grudge."

"Is your honor sure?"

"I can answer for it they do not."

"Well, we won't speak of it any more, then;" and Planchet took his place
in D'Artagnan's suite with that sublime confidence he had always had in
his master, which even fifteen years of separation had not destroyed.

They had traveled onward about half a mile when Planchet came close up
to D'Artagnan.

"Stop, sir, look yonder," he whispered; "don't you see in the darkness
something pass by, like shadows? I fancy I hear horses' feet."

"Impossible!" returned D'Artagnan. "The ground is soaking wet; yet I
fancy, as thou sayest, that I see something."

At this moment the neighing of a horse struck his ear, coming through
darkness and space.

"There are men somewhere about, but that's of no consequence to us,"
said D'Artagnan; "let us ride onward."

At about half-past eight o'clock they reached the first houses in Noisy;
every one was in bed and not a light was to be seen in the village. The
obscurity was broken only now and then by the still darker lines of
the roofs of houses. Here and there a dog barked behind a door or an
affrighted cat fled precipitately from the midst of the pavement to take
refuge behind a pile of faggots, from which retreat her eyes would shine
like peridores. These were the only living creatures that seemed to
inhabit the village.

Toward the middle of the town, commanding the principal open space,
rose a dark mass, separated from the rest of the world by two lanes
and overshadowed in the front by enormous lime-trees. D'Artagnan looked
attentively at the building.

"This," he said to Planchet, "must be the archbishop's chateau, the
abode of the fair Madame de Longueville; but the convent, where is
that?"

"The convent, your honor, is at the other end of the village; I know it
well."

"Well, then, Planchet, gallop up to it whilst I tighten my horse's
girth, and come back and tell me if there is a light in any of the
Jesuits' windows."

In about five minutes Planchet returned.

"Sir," he said, "there is one window of the convent lighted up."

"Hem! If I were a 'Frondeur,'" said D'Artagnan, "I should knock here and
should be sure of a good supper. If I were a monk I should knock yonder
and should have a good supper there, too; whereas, 'tis v