“Ah, monsieur!” said she, “you have saved me; permit me to thank you.”
“Madame,” said D’Artagnan, “I have only done what every gentleman would have done in my place; you owe me no thanks.”
“Oh, yes, monsieur, oh, yes; and I hope to prove to you that you have not served an ingrate. But what could these men, whom I at first took for robbers, want with me, and why is Monsieur Bonacieux not here?”
“Madame, those men were more dangerous than any robbers could have been, for they are the agents of the cardinal; and as to your husband, Monsieur Bonacieux, he is not here because he was yesterday evening conducted to the Bastille.”
“My husband in the Bastille!” cried Mme. Bonacieux. “Oh, my God! What has he done? Poor dear man, he is innocence itself!”
And something like a faint smile lighted the still-terrified features of the young woman.
“What has he done, madame?” said D’Artagnan. “I believe that his only crime is to have at the same time the good fortune and the misfortune to be your husband.”
“But, monsieur, you know then—”
“I know that you have been abducted, madame.”
“And by whom? Do you know him? Oh, if you know him, tell me!”