“That is what I was doing,” said D’Artagnan to himself; “but what is she doing, and why is she going to Chaillot at such an hour?” And he offered her his arm, which she took, and began to walk with increased precipitation, which ill-concealed, however, her weakness. D’Artagnan perceived it, and proposed to La Valliere that she should take a little rest, which she refused.
“You are ignorant, perhaps, where Chaillot is?” inquired D’Artagnan.
“Quite so.”
“It is a great distance.”
“That matters very little.”
“It is at least a league.”
“I can walk it.”
D’Artagnan did not reply; he could tell, merely by the tone of a voice, when a resolution was real or not. He rather bore along rather than accompanied La Valliere, until they perceived the elevated ground of Chaillot.
“What house are you going to, mademoiselle?” inquired D’Artagnan.
“To the Carmelites, monsieur.”