“I took advantage of a moment when they left me alone; and as I had known since morning the reason of my abduction, with the help of the sheets I let myself down from the window. Then, as I believed my husband would be at home, I hastened hither.” “To place yourself under his protection?” “Oh, no, poor dear man! I knew very well that he was incapable of defending me; but as he could serve us in other ways, I wished to inform him.” “Of what?” “Oh, that is not my secret; I must not, therefore, tell you.” “Besides,” said D’Artagnan, “pardon me, madame, if, guardsman as I am, I remind you of prudence—besides, I believe we are not here in a very proper place for imparting confidences. The men I have put to flight will return reinforced; if they find us here, we are lost. I have sent for three of my friends, but who knows whether they were at home?” “Yes, yes! You are right,” cried the affrighted Mme. Bonacieux; “let us fly! Let us save ourselves.” At these words she passed her arm under that of D’Artagnan, and urged him forward eagerly. “But whither shall we fly—whither escape?” “Let us first withdraw from this house; afterward we shall see.” The young woman and the young man, without taking the trouble to shut the door after them, descended the Rue des Fossoyeurs rapidly, turned into the Rue des Fossés-Monsieur-le-Prince, and did not stop till they came to the Place St. Sulpice. “And now what are we to do, and where do you wish me to conduct you?” asked D’Artagnan. “I am at quite a loss how to answer you, I admit,” said Mme. Bonacieux. “My intention was to inform Monsieur Laporte, through my husband, in order that Monsieur Laporte might tell us precisely what had taken place at the Louvre in the last three days, and whether there is any danger in presenting myself there.” “But I,” said D’Artagnan, “can go and inform Monsieur Laporte.” “No doubt you could, only there is one misfortune, and that is that Monsieur Bonacieux is known at the Louvre, and would be allowed to pass; whereas you are not known there, and the gate would be closed against you.” “Ah, bah!” said D’Artagnan; “you have at some wicket of the Louvre a _concierge_ who is devoted to you, and who, thanks to a password, would—” Mme. Bonacieux looked earnestly at the young man. “And if I give you this password,” said she, “would you forget it as soon as you used it?” “By my honor, by the faith of a gentleman!” said D’Artagnan, with an accent so truthful that no one could mistake it. “Then I believe you. You appear to be a brave young man; besides, your fortune may perhaps be the result of your devotedness.” “I will do, without a promise and voluntarily, all that I can do to serve the king and be agreeable to the queen. Dispose of me, then, as a friend.” “But I—where shall I go meanwhile?” “Is there nobody from whose house Monsieur Laporte can come and fetch you?” “No, I can trust nobody.” “Stop,” said D’Artagnan; “we are near Athos’s door. Yes, here it is.”