D’Artagnan concealed his face in the bosom of Athos, and sobbed aloud.
“Weep,” said Athos, “weep, heart full of love, youth, and life! Alas, would I could weep like you!”
And he drew away his friend, as affectionate as a father, as consoling as a priest, noble as a man who has suffered much.
All five, followed by their lackeys leading their horses, took their way to the town of Béthune, whose outskirts they perceived, and stopped before the first inn they came to.
“But,” said D’Artagnan, “shall we not pursue that woman?”
“Later,” said Athos. “I have measures to take.”
“She will escape us,” replied the young man; “she will escape us, and it will be your fault, Athos.”
“I will be accountable for her,” said Athos.
D’Artagnan had so much confidence in the word of his friend that he lowered his head, and entered the inn without reply.
Porthos and Aramis regarded each other, not understanding this assurance of Athos.