“Yes, you--or rather your adventure. I will go and listen; if we were both there, we should be discovered. Or, stay!--go and fetch Montalais, and then return and wait for me with her at the entrance of the forest.” And then, as Athenais hesitated, she again said “Go!” in a voice which did not admit of reply. Athenais thereupon arranged her dress so as to prevent its rustling being heard; and, by a path beyond the group of trees, she regained the flower-garden. As for Madame, she concealed herself in the thicket, leaning her back against a gigantic chestnut-tree, one of the branches of which had been cut in such a manner as to form a seat, and waited there, full of anxiety and apprehension. “Now,” she said, “since one can hear from this place, let us listen to what M. de Bragelonne and that other madly-in-love fool, the Comte de Guiche, have to say about me.” Chapter XLV. In Which Madame Acquires a Proof that Listeners Hear What Is Said. There was a moment’s silence, as if the mysterious sounds of night were hushed to listen, at the same time as Madame, to the youthful passionate disclosures of De Guiche. Raoul was about to speak. He leaned indolently against the trunk of the large oak, and replied in his sweet and musical voice, “Alas, my dear De Guiche, it is a great misfortune.” “Yes,” cried the latter, “great indeed.” “You do not understand me, De Guiche. I say that it is a great misfortune for you, not merely loving, but not knowing how to conceal your love.” “What do you mean?” said De Guiche. “Yes, you do not perceive one thing; namely, that it is no longer to the only friend you have,--in other words,--to a man who would rather die than betray you; you do not perceive, I say, that it is no longer to your only friend that you confide your passion, but to the first person that approaches you.” “Are you mad, Bragelonne,” exclaimed De Guiche, “to say such a thing to me?” “The fact stands thus, however.” “Impossible! How, in what manner can I have ever been indiscreet to such an extent?”