"Go to him, then. He will be able to throw some light on the subject." At this moment a lackey entered the room. "What is it?" said De Guiche.
"Some one is waiting for monseigneur in the Cabinet des Porcelaines."
"Very well. Will you excuse me, my dear Raoul? I am so proud since I have been able to walk again."
"I would offer you my arm, De Guiche, if I did not guess that the person in question is a lady."
"I believe so," said De Guiche, smiling, as he quitted Raoul.
Raoul remained motionless, absorbed in his grief, overwhelmed, like the miner upon whom a vault has just fallen in, wounded, his life-blood welling fast, his thoughts confused, endeavors to recover himself, and to save his life and to preserve his reason. A few minutes were all Raoul needed to dissipate the bewildering sensations which had been occasioned by these two revelations. He had already recovered the thread of his ideas, when, suddenly, through the door, he fancied he recognized Montalais's voice in the Cabinet des Porcelaines. "She!" he cried. "Yes; it is indeed her voice! She will be able to tell me the whole truth; but shall I question her here? She conceals herself even from me; she is coming no doubt from Madame. I will see her in her own apartment. She will explain her alarm, her flight, the strange manner in which I was driven out; she will tell me all that—after M. d'Artagnan, who knows everything, shall have given me fresh strength and courage. Madame, a coquette, I fear, and yet a coquette who is herself in love, has her moments of kindness; a coquette who is as capricious and uncertain as life or death, but who tells De Guiche that he is the happiest of men. He at least is lying on roses." And so he hastily quitted the comte's apartments, and reproaching himself as he went for having talked of nothing but his own affairs to De Guiche, he arrived at D'Artagnan's quarters.
CHAPTER LVIII.
BRAGELONNE CONTINUES HIS INQUIRIES.
The captain was sitting buried in his leathern armchair, his spur fixed in the floor, his sword between his legs, and was occupied in reading a great number of letters, as he twisted his mustache. D'Artagnan uttered a welcome full of pleasure when he perceived his friend's son. "Raoul, my boy," he said, "by what lucky accident does it happen that the king has recalled you?"