“How can I tell!” said Kitty. “The lackeys were brought by the cries she made. She was mad with passion. There exist no imprecations she did not pour out against you. Then I thought she would remember it was through my chamber you had penetrated hers, and that then she would suppose I was your accomplice; so I took what little money I had and the best of my things, and I got away. “Poor dear girl! But what can I do with you? I am going away the day after tomorrow.” “Do what you please, Monsieur Chevalier. Help me out of Paris; help me out of France!” “I cannot take you, however, to the siege of La Rochelle,” said D’Artagnan. “No; but you can place me in one of the provinces with some lady of your acquaintance—in your own country, for instance.” “My dear little love! In my country the ladies do without chambermaids. But stop! I can manage your business for you. Planchet, go and find Aramis. Request him to come here directly. We have something very important to say to him.” “I understand,” said Athos; “but why not Porthos? I should have thought that his duchess—” “Oh, Porthos’s duchess is dressed by her husband’s clerks,” said D’Artagnan, laughing. “Besides, Kitty would not like to live in the Rue aux Ours. Isn’t it so, Kitty?” “I do not care where I live,” said Kitty, “provided I am well concealed, and nobody knows where I am.” “Meanwhile, Kitty, when we are about to separate, and you are no longer jealous of me—” “Monsieur Chevalier, far off or near,” said Kitty, “I shall always love you.” “Where the devil will constancy niche itself next?” murmured Athos. “And I, also,” said D’Artagnan, “I also. I shall always love you; be sure of that. But now answer me. I attach great importance to the question I am about to put to you. Did you never hear talk of a young woman who was carried off one night?” “There, now! Oh, Monsieur Chevalier, do you love that woman still?” “No, no; it is one of my friends who loves her—Monsieur Athos, this gentleman here.” “I?” cried Athos, with an accent like that of a man who perceives he is about to tread upon an adder. “You, to be sure!” said D’Artagnan, pressing Athos’s hand. “You know the interest we both take in this poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty will tell nothing; will you, Kitty? You understand, my dear girl,” continued D’Artagnan, “she is the wife of that frightful baboon you saw at the door as you came in.” “Oh, my God! You remind me of my fright! If he should have known me again!” “How? know you again? Did you ever see that man before?” “He came twice to Milady’s.” “That’s it. About what time?” “Why, about fifteen or eighteen days ago.” “Exactly so.” “And yesterday evening he came again.” “Yesterday evening?” “Yes, just before you came.” “My dear Athos, we are enveloped in a network of spies. And do you believe he knew you again, Kitty?” “I pulled down my hood as soon as I saw him, but perhaps it was too late.”