“Yes, yes,” said Athos, too delicate to permit himself even the consolation of a smile. Raoul imitated the paternal reserve. But D’Artagnan thought it would appear too mysterious to leave his friends under a pretense, without even telling them the route he was about to take. “I have chosen Le Mans,” said he to Athos. “Is it a good country?” “Excellent, my friend,” replied the count, without making him observe that Le Mans was in the same direction as La Touraine, and that by waiting two days, at most, he might travel with a friend. But D’Artagnan, more embarrassed than the count, dug, at every explanation, deeper into the mud, into which he sank by degrees. “I shall set out to-morrow at daybreak,” said he at last. “Till that time, will you come with me, Raoul?” “Yes, monsieur le chevalier,” said the young man, “if monsieur le comte does not want me.” “No, Raoul I am to have an audience to-day of Monsieur, the king’s brother; that is all I have to do.” Raoul asked Grimaud for his sword, which the old man brought him immediately. “Now then,” added D’Artagnan, opening his arms to Athos, “adieu, my dear friend!” Athos held him in a long embrace, and the musketeer, who knew his discretion so well, murmured in his ear—“An affair of state,” to which Athos only replied by a pressure of the hand, still more significant. They then separated. Raoul took the arm of his old friend, who led him along the Rue-Saint-Honore. “I am conducting you to the abode of the god Plutus,” said D’Artagnan to the young man; “prepare yourself. The whole day you will witness the piling up of crowns. Heavens! how I am changed!” “Oh! what numbers of people there are in the street!” said Raoul. “Is there a procession to-day?” asked D’Artagnan of a passer-by. “Monsieur, it is a hanging,” replied the man. “What! a hanging at the Greve?” said D’Artagnan. “Yes, monsieur.” “The devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I want to go and take my rent!” cried D’Artagnan. “Raoul, did you ever see anybody hung?” “Never, monsieur—thank God!” “Oh! how young that sounds! If you were on guard in the trenches, as I was, and a spy! But, pardon me, Raoul, I am doting—you are quite right, it is a hideous sight to see a person hung! At what hour do they hang them, monsieur, if you please?” “Monsieur,” replied the stranger respectfully, delighted at joining conversation with two men of the sword, “it will take place about three o’clock.” “Aha! it is now only half-past one; let us step out, we shall be there in time to touch my three hundred and seventy-five livres, and get away before the arrival of the malefactor.” “Malefactors, monsieur,” continued the bourgeois; “there are two of them.”