At nine o'clock D'Artagnan was at the Hotel des Gardes; he foundPlanchet all ready. The fourth horse had arrived.

Planchet was armed with his musketoon and a pistol. D'Artagnanhad his sword and placed two pistols in his belt; then bothmounted and departed quietly. It was quite dark, and no one sawthem go out. Planchet took place behind his master, and kept ata distance of ten paces from him.

D'Artagnan crossed the quays, went out by the gate of LaConference and followed the road, much more beautiful then thanit is now, which leads to St. Cloud.

As long as he was in the city, Planchet kept at the respectfuldistance he had imposed upon himself; but as soon as the roadbegan to be more lonely and dark, he drew softly nearer, so thatwhen they entered the Bois de Boulogne he found himself ridingquite naturally side by side with his master. In fact, we mustnot dissemble that the oscillation of the tall trees and thereflection of the moon in the dark underwood gave him seriousuneasiness. D'Artagnan could not help perceiving that somethingmore than usual was passing in the mind of his lackey and said,"Well, Monsieur Planchet, what is the matter with us now?"

"Don't you think, monsieur, that woods are like churches?"

"How so, Planchet?"

"Because we dare not speak aloud in one or the other."

"But why did you not dare to speak aloud, Planchet - because youare afraid?"

"Afraid of being heard? Yes, monsieur."

"Afraid of being heard! Why, there is nothing improper in ourconversation, my dear Planchet, and no one could find fault withit."

"Ah, monsieur!" replied Planchet, recurring to his besettingidea, "that Monsieur Bonacieux has something vicious in hiseyebrows, and something very unpleasant in the play of his lips."

"What the devil makes you think of Bonacieux?"

"Monsieur, we think of what we can, and not of what we will."

"Because you are a coward, Planchet."

"Monsieur, we must not confound prudence with cowardice; prudenceis a virtue."

"And you are very virtuous, are you not, Planchet?"

"Monsieur, is not that the barrel of a musket which glittersyonder? Had we not better lower our heads?"

"In truth," murmured D'Artagnan, to whom M. de Treville'srecommendation recurred, "this animal will end by making meafraid." And he put his horse into a trot.

Planchet followed the movements of his master as if he had beenhis shadow, and was soon trotting by his side.

"Are we going to continue this pace all night?" asked Planchet.

"No; you are at your journey's end."

"How, monsieur! And you?"

"I am going a few steps farther."

"And Monsieur leaves me here alone?"

"You are afraid, Planchet?"

"No; I only beg leave to observe to Monsieur that the night willbe very cold, that chills bring on rheumatism, and that a lackeywho has the rheumatism makes but a poor servant, particularly toa master as active as Monsieur."

"Well, if you are cold, Planchet, you can go into one of thosecabarets that you see yonder, and be in waiting for me at thedoor by six o'clock in the morning."

"Monsieur, I have eaten and drunk respectfully the crown you gaveme this morning, so that I have not a sou left in case I shouldbe cold."

"Here's half a pistole. Tomorrow morning."

D'Artagnan sprang from his horse, threw the bridle to Planchet,and departed at a quick pace, folding his cloak around him.

"Good Lord, how cold I am!" cried Planchet, as soon as he hadlost sight of his master; and in such haste was he to warmhimself that he went straight to a house set out with all theattributes of a suburban tavern, and knocked at the door.

In the meantime D'Artagnan, who had plunged into a bypath,continued his route and reached St. Cloud; but instead offollowing the main street he turned behind the chateau, reached asort of retired lane, and found himself soon in front of thepavilion named. It was situated in a very private spot. A highwall, at the angle of which was the pavilion, ran along one sideof this lane, and on the other was a little garden connected witha poor cottage which was protected by a hedge from passers-by.

He gained the place appointed, and as no signal had been givenhim by which to announce his presence, he waited.

Not the least noise was to be heard; it might be imagined that hewas a hundred miles from the capital. D'Artagnan leaned againstthe hedge, after having cast a glance behind it. Beyond thathedge, that garden, and that cottage, a dark mist enveloped withits folds that immensity where Paris slept - a vast void fromwhich glittered a few luminous points, the funeral stars of thathell!

But for D'Artagnan all aspects were clothed happily, all ideaswore a smile, all shades were diaphanous. The appointed hour wasabout to strike. In fact, at the end of a few minutes the belfryof St. Cloud let fall slowly then strokes from its sonorous jaws.There was something melancholy in this brazen voice pouring outits lamentations in the middle of the night; but each of thosestrokes, which made up the expected hour, vibrated harmoniouslyto the heart of the young man.

His eyes were fixed upon the little pavilion situated at theangle of the wall, of which all the windows were closed withshutters, except one on the first story. Through this windowshone a mild light which silvered the foliage of two or threelinden trees which formed a group outside the park. There couldbe no doubt that behind this little window, which threw forthsuch friendly beams, the pretty Mme. Bonacieux expected him.

Wrapped in this sweet idea, D'Artagnan waited half an hourwithout the least impatience, his eyes fixed upon that charminglittle abode of which he could perceive a part of the ceilingwith its gilded moldings, attesting the elegance of the rest ofthe apartment.

The belfry of St. Cloud sounded half past ten.

This time, without knowing why, D'Artagnan felt a cold shiver runthrough his veins. Perhaps the cold began to affect him, and hetook a perfectly physical sensation for a moral impression.

Then the idea seized him that he had read incorrectly, and thatthe appointment was for eleven o'clock. He drew near to thewindow, and placing himself so that a ray of light should fallupon the letter as he held it, he drew it from his pocket andread it again; but he had not been mistaken, the appointment wasfor ten o'clock. He went and resumed his post, beginning to berather uneasy at this silence and this solitude.

Eleven o'clock sounded.

D'Artagnan began now really to fear that something had happenedto Mme. Bonacieux. He clapped his hands three times - theordinary signal of lovers; but nobody replied to him, not even anecho.

He then thought, with a touch of vexation, that perhaps the youngwoman had fallen asleep while waiting for him. He approached thewall, and tried to climb it; but the wall had been recentlypointed, and D'Artagnan could get no hold.

At that moment he thought of the trees, upon whose leaves thelight still shone; and as one of them drooped over the road, hethought that from its branches he might get a glimpse of theinterior of the pavilion.

The tree was easy to climb. Besides, D'Artagnan was but twentyyears old, and consequently had not yet forgotten his schoolboyhabits. In an instant he was among the branches, and his keeneyes plunged through the transparent panes into the interior ofthe pavilion.

It was a strange thing, and one which made D'Artagnan tremblefrom the sole of his foot to the roots of his hair, to find thatthis soft light, this calm lamp, enlightened a scene of fearfuldisorder. One of the windows was broken, the door of the chamberhad been beaten in and hung, split in two, on its hinges. Atable, which had been covered with an elegant supper, wasoverturned. The decanters broken in pieces, and the fruitscrushed, strewed the floor. Everything in the apartment gaveevidence of a violent and desperate struggle. D'Artagnan evenfancied he could recognize amid this strange disorder, fragmentsof garments, and some bloody spots staining the cloth and thecurtains. He hastened to descend into the street, with afrightful beating at his heart; he wished to see if he could findother traces of violence.

The little soft light shone on in the calmness of the night.D'Artagnan then perceived a thing that he had not beforeremarked - for nothing had led him to the examination - that theground, trampled here and hoofmarked there, presented confusedtraces of men and horses. Besides, the wheels of a carriage,which appeared to have come from Paris, had made a deepimpression in the soft earth, which did not extend beyond thepavilion, but turned again toward Paris.

At length D'Artagnan, in pursuing his researches, found near thewall a woman's torn glove. This glove, wherever it had nottouched the muddy ground, was of irreproachable odor. It was oneof those perfumed gloves that lovers like to snatch from a prettyhand.

As D'Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant andmore icy sweat rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heartwas oppressed by a horrible anguish; his respiration was brokenand short. And yet he said, to reassure himself, that thispavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; thatthe young woman had made an appointment with him before thepavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have beendetained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy ofher husband.

But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, bythat feeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takespossession of our being, and cries to us so as to be understoodunmistakably that some great misfortune is hanging over us.

Then D'Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road,took the path he had before taken, and reaching the ferry,interrogated the boatman.

About seven o'clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over ayoung woman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be veryanxious not to be recognized; but entirely on account of herprecautions, the boatman had paid more attention to her anddiscovered that she was young and pretty.

There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women whocame to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, andyet D'Artagnan did not for an instant doubt that it was Mme.Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed.

D'Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabinof the ferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again,and satisfy himself that he had not been mistaken, that theappointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, before theD'Estrees's pavilion and not in another street. Everythingconspired to prove to D'Artagnan that his presentiments had notdeceived him, and that a great misfortune had happened.

He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him thatsomething might have happened at the pavilion in his absence, andthat fresh information awaited him. The lane was still deserted,and the same calm soft light shone through the window.

D'Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure,which had no doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gateof the enclosure was shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and inspite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up to the cabin.

No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of deathreigned in the cabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was hislast resource, he knocked again.

It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within - atimid noise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard.

Then D'Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent sofull of anxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voicewas of a nature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old,worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closedagain as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which burned inthe corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistolpommels of D'Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement hadbeen, D'Artagnan had had time to get a glimpse of the head of anold man.

"In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have beenwaiting for someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety.Has anything particular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!"

The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared,only it was now still more pale than before.

D'Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names.He told how he had a rendezvous with a young woman before thatpavilion, and how, not seeing her come, he had climbed the lindentree, and by the light of the lamp had seen the disorder of thechamber.

The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it wasall so; and then, when D'Artagnan had ended, he shook his headwith an air that announced nothing good.

"What do you mean?" cried D'Artagnan. "In the name of heaven,explain yourself!"

"Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if Idared tell you what I have seen, certainly no good would befallme."

"You have, then, seen something?" replied D'Artagnan. "In thatcase, in the name of heaven," continued he, throwing him apistole, "tell me what you have seen, and I will pledge you theword of a gentleman that not one of your words shall escape frommy heart."

The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face ofthe young man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated ina low voice: "It was scarcely nine o'clock when I heard a noisein the street, and was wondering what it could be, when on comingto my door, I found that somebody was endeavoring to open it. AsI am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I went andopened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In theshadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses.These horses evidently belonged to the three men, who wee dressedas cavaliers. 'Ah, my worthy gentlemen,' cried I, 'what do youwant?' 'You must have a ladder?' said he who appeared to be theleader of the party. 'Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gathermy fruit.' 'Lend it to us, and go into your house again; thereis a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only rememberthis - if you speak a word of what you may see or what you mayhear (for you will look and you will listen, I am quite sure,however we may threaten you), you are lost.' At these words hethrew me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the ladder.After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to thehouse, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing alongin the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, fromwhich I could hear and see everything. The three men brought thecarriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout,short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color,who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in atthe window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had goneup, and whispered, 'It is she!' Immediately, he who had spokento me approached the door of the pavilion, opened it with a keyhe had in his hand, closed the door and disappeared, while at thesame time the other two men ascended the ladder. The little oldman remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of hishorses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once greatcried resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window,and opened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon asshe perceived the other two men, she fell back and they went intothe chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise ofbreaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; buther cries were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearingthe woman in their arms, and carried her to the carriage, intowhich the little old man got after her. The leader closed thewindow, came out an instant after by the door, and satisfiedhimself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companionswere already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackeytook his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quickpace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. Fromthat moment I have neither seen nor heard anything."

D'Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remainedmotionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousywere howling in his heart.

"But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom thismute despair certainly produced a greater effect than cries andtears would have done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her,and that's a comfort."

"Can you guess," said D'Artagnan, "who was the man who headedthis infernal expedition?"

"I don't know him."

"But as you spoke to him you must have seen him."

"Oh, it's a description you want?"

"Exactly so."

"A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the airof a gentleman."

"That's the man!" cried D'Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He ismy demon, apparently. And the other?"

"Which?"

"The short one."

"Oh, he was not a gentleman, I'll answer for it; besides, he didnot wear a sword, and the others treated him with smallconsideration."

"Some lackey," murmured D'Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman,what have they done with you?"

"You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the oldman.

"And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentlemanhas but his word, and I have given you mine."

With a heavy heart, D'Artagnan again bent his way toward theferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, andthat he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes hefeared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealousfit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn bydoubt, grief, and despair.

"Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have,at least, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what hasbecome of them?"

It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet.D'Artagnan went successively into all the cabarets in which therewas a light, but could not find Planchet in any of them.

At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was ratherdubious. D'Artagnan had appointed six o'clock in the morning forhis lackey, and wherever he might be, he was right.

Besides, it came into the young man's mind that by remaining inthe environs of the spot on which this sad event had passed, hewould, perhaps, have some light thrown upon the mysteriousaffair. At the sixth cabaret, then, as we said, D'Artagnanstopped, asked for a bottle of wine of the best quality, andplacing himself in the darkest corner of the room, determinedthus to wait till daylight; but this time again his hopes weredisappointed, and although he listened with all his ears, heheard nothing, amid the oaths, coarse jokes, and abuse whichpassed between the laborers, servants, and carters who comprisedthe honorable society of which he formed a part, which could puthim upon the least track of her who had been stolen from him. Hewas compelled, them, after having swallowed the contents of hisbottle, to pass the time as well as to evade suspicion, to fallinto the easiest position in his corner and to sleep, whetherwell or ill. D'Artagnan, be it remembered, was only twenty yearsold, and at that age sleep has its imprescriptible rights whichit imperiously insists upon, even with the saddest hearts.

Toward six o'clock D'Artagnan awoke with that uncomfortablefeeling which generally accompanies the break of day after a badnight. He was not long in making his toilet. He examinedhimself to see if advantage had been taken of his sleep, andhaving found his diamond ring on his finger, his purse in hispocket, and his pistols in his belt, he rose, paid for hisbottle, and went out to try if he could have any better luck inhis search after his lackey than he had had the night before.The first thing he perceived through the damp gray mist washonest Planchet, who, with the two horses in hand, awaited him atthe door of a little blind cabaret, before which D'Artagnan hadpassed without even a suspicion of its existence.