The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [60]
“Madame, these men were more dangerous than thieves could ever be, for they are agents of M. le cardinal, and as for your husband, M. Bonacieux, he is not here because yesterday they came to take him and convey him to the Bastille.”
“My husband in the Bastille!” cried Mme Bonacieux. “Oh, my God! but what did he do? The poor, dear man, he’s innocence itself!”
And something like a smile broke through on the still frightened face of the young woman.
“What did he do, Madame?” said d’Artagnan. “I believe his only crime is to have at once the good fortune and the misfortune of being your husband.”
“But, Monsieur, you know then…”
“I know that you were abducted, Madame.”
“And by whom? Do you know that? Oh, if you know, tell me!”
“By a man of forty to forty-five, with black hair, dark skin, and a scar on his left temple.”
“That’s right, that’s right—but his name?”
“Ah, his name? That I don’t know.”
“And did my husband know I was abducted?”
“He was informed of it in a letter written to him by the abductor himself.”
“And did he suspect,” Mme Bonacieux asked with embarrassment, “the cause of this event?”
“He attributed it, I believe, to a political cause.”
“I doubted that at first, but now I think as he does. So, then, this dear M. Bonacieux never suspected me for a single instant…?”
“Ah, far from it, Madame! He was too confident of your wisdom and above all of your love.”
A second almost imperceptible smile brushed the rosy lips of the beautiful young woman.
“But,” d’Artagnan went on, “how did you escape?”
“I took advantage of a moment when they left me alone, and as I knew since this morning what to make of my abduction, I climbed down from the window with the help of my sheets; then, as I thought my husband was here, I came running.”
“To put yourself under his protection?”
“Oh, no! The poor, dear man, I knew very well he was incapable of defending me; but as he could serve us in another way, I wanted to warn him.”
“Of what?”
“Oh, that is not my secret, so I cannot tell it to you.”
“Besides,” said d’Artagnan, “—forgive me, Madame, if, guard though I am, I urge you to prudence—besides, I think that we are not in a very opportune place for exchanging confidences. The men I put to flight will come back with reinforcements. If they find us here, we’re lost. I’ve sent to inform three of my friends, but who knows if they’ve been found at home!”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” cried Mme Bonacieux in fear. “We must flee, we must escape!”
At these words, she put her arm under d’Artagnan’s and pulled him sharply.
“But flee where,” said d’Artganan, “escape where?”
“Let’s get away from this house first, then we’ll see.”
And the young woman and the young man, without bothering to shut the door again, went quickly down the rue des Fossoyeurs, turned into the rue des Fossés-Monsieur-le-Prince, and did not stop until the place Saint-Sulpice.
“And now what are we going to do,” asked d’Artagnan, “and where do you want me to take you?”
“I’m really at a loss to answer you, I must admit,” said Mme Bonacieux. “My intention was to warn M. de La Porte through my husband, so that M. de La Porte could tell us precisely what has gone on at the Louvre over the past three days, and whether it’s dangerous for me to appear there.”
“But I can go and warn M. de La Porte,” said d’Artagnan.
“No doubt, only there’s one problem: my husband was known at the Louvre, and they would let him in, while you are not known, and they will shut the door on you.”
“Ah!” said d’Artagnan, “but you must have a porter at some gateway of the Louvre who is devoted to you, and who, thanks to some password…”
Mme Bonacieux looked fixedly at the young man.
“And if I give you that password,” she said, “will you forget it as soon as you’ve used it?”
“Word of honor, as I’m a gentleman!” said d’Artagnan, with a tone the truthfulness of which was unmistakable.
“Very well, I believe you: you have the look of a brave young man, and besides your devotion may make your fortune.