“He has returned,” said he. “So much the worse, and so much the better!”
It need not be said that D’Artagnan was still thinking of the husband. He made inquiries and discovered that the servants were new and that the mistress had gone for a walk.
“Alone?” asked D’Artagnan.
“With monsieur.”
“Monsieur has returned, then?”
“Of course,” naively replied the servant.
“If I had any money,” said D’Artagnan to himself, “I would go away; but I have none. I must stay and follow the advice of my hostess, while thwarting the conjugal designs of this inopportune apparition.”
He had just completed this monologue—which proves that in momentous circumstances nothing is more natural than the monologue—when the servant-maid, watching at the door, suddenly cried out:
“Ah! see! here is madame returning with monsieur.”
D’Artagnan looked out and at the corner of Rue Montmartre saw the hostess coming along hanging to the arm of an enormous Swiss, who tiptoed in his walk with a magnificent air which pleasantly reminded him of his old friend Porthos.