The Three Musketeers

“None: she told me to wait, and I waited.”

“You are a most accommodating husband, my dear M. Bonancieux,” said the cardinal.

“He has called me ‘my dear monsieur,’” said the mercer to himself. “‘Pon my faith, things are taking a good turn.”

“Should you know those doors again?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the numbers?”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“No. 25 in the Rue Vaugirard, and No. 75 in the Rue de la Harpe.”

“Good!” said the cardinal; and, taking a silver bell, he rang it.

“Go,” said he in a low voice, to the officer who entered—“go and find Rochefort, and tell him to come here directly, if he is within.”

“The count is already here,” said the officer, “and requests an immediate audience of your eminence.”

“Your eminence!” muttered Bonancieux, who knew that such was the title ordinarily given to the cardinal; “your eminence!”

“Let him come in, then, let him come in!” said Richelieu eagerly.

The officer hurried out of the room with that rapidity with which the cardinal was generally obeyed by his followers.

“Your eminence!” again muttered Bonancieux, rolling his eyes in astonishment.

Two seconds had scarcely elapsed after the officer left the room before the door opened again, and another person entered.

“It is he!” exclaimed Bonancieux.

“Who is he?” demanded the cardinal.

“He who ran away with my wife.”

The cardinal rang a second time, and the officer reappeared.

“Put this man into the hands of the two guards, and let him wait till I send for him.”

“No, my lord, no, it is not he!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “no, I was mistaken; it is another person, not at all like him. The gentleman is an honest man.”

“Take away that simpleton!” said the cardinal.

The officer took him by the arm, and led him to the antechamber, where he was met by the two guards.

The person who had last entered impatiently followed Bonancieux with his eyes till he was gone, and, when the door was closed behind him—

“They have met,” he said, eagerly approaching the cardinal.

“Who?” demanded the cardinal.

“Those two.”

“The queen and the duke!” cried the cardinal.

“Yes.”

“And where?”

“At the Louvre!”

“Are you sure?”

“Perfectly sure!”

“Who told you of it?”

“Madame de Lannoy, who is entirely devoted to your eminence, as you well know!”

“Why did she not tell you sooner?”

“Either by chance, or by mistrust, the queen made Madame de Surgis sleep in her room, and kept it throughout the day.”

“Very well; we have been beaten; let us try to have our revenge.”

“Be assured that I will assist your eminence with all my soul.”

“How did this happen?”

“At half-past twelve the queen was with her women.”

“Where?”

“In her bed-chamber, where a pocket-handkerchief was brought her from her seamstress.”

“Well?”

“The queen immediately showed great emotion; and grew pale, under her rouge.”

“Well! what then?”

“Nevertheless, she arose; and, in an agitated voice said, ‘ladies, wait ten minutes for me; I will return.’ Then, opening the door of her alcove, she went out.”

“Why did not Madame de Lannoy come and tell you directly?”