.

"Because Paris is going to be reduced to dust and ashes like Babylon, of
which you have no doubt heard tell."

"And are you going to leave me at such a time?"

"This very instant."

"And where are you going?"

"Ah, if you could tell me that, you would be doing me a service."

"Ah, me! ah, me!

"Have you any letters for me?" inquired D'Artagnan, wishing to signify
to the hostess that her lamentations were superfluous and that therefore
she had better spare him demonstrations of her grief.

"There's one just arrived," and she handed the letter to D'Artagnan.

"From Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, recognizing the handwriting.

"Ah!" said Porthos, "let us hear what he says."

D'Artagnan opened the letter and read as follows:

"Dear D'Artagnan, dear Du Vallon, my good friends, perhaps this may be
the last time that you will ever hear from me. Aramis and I are very
unhappy; but God, our courage, and the remembrance of our friendship
sustain us. Think often of Raoul. I intrust to you certain papers which
are at Blois; and in two months and a half, if you do not hear of us,
take possession of them.

"Embrace, with all your heart, the vicomte, for your devoted, friend,

"ATHOS."

"I believe, by Heaven," said D'Artagnan, "that I shall embrace him,
since he's upon our road; and if he is so unfortunate as to lose our
dear Athos, from that very day he becomes my son."

"And I," said Porthos, "shall make him my sole heir."

"Let us see, what more does Athos say?"

"Should you meet on your journey a certain Monsieur Mordaunt, distrust
him, in a letter I cannot say more."

"Monsieur Mordaunt!" exclaimed the Gascon, surprised.

"Monsieur Mordaunt! 'tis well," said Porthos, "we shall remember that;
but see, there is a postscript from Aramis."

"So there is," said D'Artagnan, and he read:

"We conceal the place where we are, dear friends, knowing your brotherly
affection and that you would come and die with us were we to reveal it."

"Confound it," interrupted Porthos, with an explosion of passion which
sent Mousqueton to the other end of the room; "are they in danger of
dying?"

D'Artagnan continued:

"Athos bequeaths to you Raoul, and I bequeath to you my revenge. If by
any good luck you lay your hand on a certain man named Mordaunt, tell
Porthos to take him into a corner and to wring his neck. I dare not say
more in a letter.

"ARAMIS."

"If that is all, it is easily done,"