“Which I received this morning.”
D’Artagnan opened it, and as the day was beginning to decline, he approached the window to read it. The citizen followed him.
“‘Do not seek your wife,’” read D’Artagnan; “‘she will be restored to you when there is no longer occasion for her. If you make a single step to find her you are lost.’
“That’s pretty positive,” continued D’Artagnan; “but after all, it is but a menace.”
“Yes; but that menace terrifies me. I am not a fighting man at all, monsieur, and I am afraid of the Bastille.”
“Hum!” said D’Artagnan. “I have no greater regard for the Bastille than you. If it were nothing but a sword thrust, why then—”
“I have counted upon you on this occasion, monsieur.”
“Yes?”
“Seeing you constantly surrounded by Musketeers of a very superb appearance, and knowing that these Musketeers belong to Monsieur de Tréville, and were consequently enemies of the cardinal, I thought that you and your friends, while rendering justice to your poor queen, would be pleased to play his Eminence an ill turn.”
“Without doubt.”