“Ah, that’s quite another thing; but promise me, if you should not be killed tonight, that you will go tomorrow.” “I promise it.” “Do you need money?” “I have still fifty pistoles. That, I think, is as much as I shall want.” “But your companions?” “I don’t think they can be in need of any. We left Paris, each with seventy-five pistoles in his pocket.” “Shall I see you again before your departure?” “I think not, monsieur, unless something new should happen.” “Well, a pleasant journey.” “Thanks, monsieur.” D’Artagnan left M. de Tréville, touched more than ever by his paternal solicitude for his Musketeers. He called successively at the abodes of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. Neither of them had returned. Their lackeys likewise were absent, and nothing had been heard of either the one or the other. He would have inquired after them of their mistresses, but he was neither acquainted with Porthos’s nor Aramis’s, and as to Athos, he had none. As he passed the Hôtel des Gardes, he took a glance into the stables. Three of the four horses had already arrived. Planchet, all astonishment, was busy grooming them, and had already finished two. “Ah, monsieur,” said Planchet, on perceiving D’Artagnan, “how glad I am to see you.” “Why so, Planchet?” asked the young man. “Do you place confidence in our landlord—Monsieur Bonacieux?” “I? Not the least in the world.” “Oh, you do quite right, monsieur.” “But why this question?” “Because, while you were talking with him, I watched you without listening to you; and, monsieur, his countenance changed color two or three times!” “Bah!” “Preoccupied as Monsieur was with the letter he had received, he did not observe that; but I, whom the strange fashion in which that letter came into the house had placed on my guard—I did not lose a movement of his features.” “And you found it?” “Traitorous, monsieur.” “Indeed!” “Still more; as soon as Monsieur had left and disappeared round the corner of the street, Monsieur Bonacieux took his hat, shut his door, and set off at a quick pace in an opposite direction.” “It seems you are right, Planchet; all this appears to be a little mysterious; and be assured that we will not pay him our rent until the matter shall be categorically explained to us.” “Monsieur jests, but Monsieur will see.” “What would you have, Planchet? What must come is written.” “Monsieur does not then renounce his excursion for this evening?” “Quite the contrary, Planchet; the more ill will I have toward Monsieur Bonacieux, the more punctual I shall be in keeping the appointment made by that letter which makes you so uneasy.” “Then that is Monsieur’s determination?” “Undeniably, my friend. At nine o’clock, then, be ready here at the hôtel, I will come and take you.” Planchet seeing there was no longer any hope of making his master renounce his project, heaved a profound sigh and set to work to groom the third horse.