He left the mercer quite astonished at his singular farewell, and asking himself if he had not been a little inconsiderate. At the top of the stairs he found Planchet in a great fright. “Ah, monsieur!” cried Planchet, as soon as he perceived his master, “here is more trouble. I thought you would never come in.” “What’s the matter now, Planchet?” demanded D’Artagnan. “Oh! I give you a hundred, I give you a thousand times to guess, monsieur, the visit I received in your absence.” “When?” “About half an hour ago, while you were at Monsieur de Tréville’s.” “Who has been here? Come, speak.” “Monsieur de Cavois.” “Monsieur de Cavois?” “In person.” “The captain of the cardinal’s Guards?” “Himself.” “Did he come to arrest me?” “I have no doubt that he did, monsieur, for all his wheedling manner.” “Was he so sweet, then?” “Indeed, he was all honey, monsieur.” “Indeed!” “He came, he said, on the part of his Eminence, who wished you well, and to beg you to follow him to the Palais-Royal*.” * It was called the Palais-Cardinal before Richelieu gave it to the King. “What did you answer him?” “That the thing was impossible, seeing that you were not at home, as he could see.” “Well, what did he say then?” “That you must not fail to call upon him in the course of the day; and then he added in a low voice, ‘Tell your master that his Eminence is very well disposed toward him, and that his fortune perhaps depends upon this interview.’” “The snare is rather _maladroit_ for the cardinal,” replied the young man, smiling. “Oh, I saw the snare, and I answered you would be quite in despair on your return. “‘Where has he gone?’ asked Monsieur de Cavois. “‘To Troyes, in Champagne,’ I answered. “‘And when did he set out?’ “‘Yesterday evening.’” “Planchet, my friend,” interrupted D’Artagnan, “you are really a precious fellow.” “You will understand, monsieur, I thought there would be still time, if you wish, to see Monsieur de Cavois to contradict me by saying you were not yet gone. The falsehood would then lie at my door, and as I am not a gentleman, I may be allowed to lie.” “Be of good heart, Planchet, you shall preserve your reputation as a veracious man. In a quarter of an hour we set off.” “That’s the advice I was about to give Monsieur; and where are we going, may I ask, without being too curious?” _“Pardieu!_ In the opposite direction to that which you said I was gone. Besides, are you not as anxious to learn news of Grimaud, Mousqueton, and Bazin as I am to know what has become of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis?” “Yes, monsieur,” said Planchet, “and I will go as soon as you please. Indeed, I think provincial air will suit us much better just now than the air of Paris. So then—”