questions still!
Oh, heavens! when I would give the world to forget what I did say, how
does it happen that every one does all he possibly can to remind me of
it? Oh, this is indeed terrible!"

"What is?"

"To have a friend who ought to spare me, who might advise me and help me
to save myself, and yet who is undoing me--is killing me."

"There, there, that will do," said Montalais; "after having said too
little, you now say too much. No one thinks of killing you, nor even of
robbing you, even of your secret; I wish to have it voluntarily, and in
no other way; for the question does not concern your own affairs only,
but ours also; and Tonnay-Charente would tell you as I do, if she
were here. For, the fact is, that last evening she wished to have
some private conversation in our room, and I was going there after the
Manicamp and Malicorne colloquies terminated, when I learned, on my
return, rather late, it is true, that Madame had sequestered her maids
of honor, and that we were to sleep in her apartments, instead of our
own. Moreover, Madame has shut up her maids of honor in order that they
should not have the time to concert any measures together, and this
morning she was closeted with Tonnay-Charente with the same object. Tell
me, then, to what extent Athenais and I can rely upon you, as we will
tell you in what way you can rely upon us?"

"I do not clearly understand the question you have put," said Louise,
much agitated.

"Hum! and yet, on the contrary, you seem to understand me very well.
However, I will put my questions in a more precise manner, in order that
you may not be able, in the slightest degree, to evade them. Listen to
me: _Do you love M. de Bragelonne?_ That is plain enough, is it not?"

At this question, which fell like the first bombshell of a besieging
army into a doomed town, Louise started. "You ask me," she exclaimed,
"if I love Raoul, the friend of my childhood,--my brother almost?"

"No, no, no! Again you evade me, or rather, you wish to escape me. I do
not ask if you love Raoul, your childhood's friend,--your brother; but I
ask if you love the Vicomte de Bragelonne, your affianced husband?"

"Good heavens! dear Montalais," said Louise, "how severe your tone is!"

"You deserve no indulgence,--I am neither more nor less severe than
usual. I put a question to you, so answer it."

"You certainly do not," said Louise, in a choking voice, "speak to me
like a friend; but I will answer you as