"D'Artagnan," continues Mademoiselle, moving closer beside him, and dropping her voice into a whisper, "you have something to tell me. I see it in your face. You accompanied Monsieur de Lauzun to Pignerol. Tell me everything you can remember." Her manner is quick and hurried, her breath comes fast.
"Your highness, I left the Comte de Lauzun in good health."
"Thank God!" ejaculated Mademoiselle, clasping her hands.
She feels so faint she is obliged to ask the Queen's permission to open the window.
"Was he indisposed on his long journey?"
"No, Madame; he was perfectly well. I never left him. Even at night I slept in the same chamber. Such were my instructions."
"Did he speak to you of me?" asked Mademoiselle in a faltering voice, blushing deeply.
"Constantly, your highness. He spoke of you with the utmost devotion. Next to the grief Monsieur de Lauzun felt at parting from your royal highness, I am persuaded he suffered most from the displeasure of his Majesty."
"Proceed, I entreat you," breaks in Mademoiselle eagerly. "Every word you say is inexpressibly precious to me. When did Lauzun first speak to you of me, and what did he say?"
"I must tell you," continues the artful D'Artagnan, watching her as a cat does a mouse—"I must tell your highness that before these unfortunate events I had avoided the Comte de Lauzun. I imagined he despised every one."