occupations, you have forgotten to pay me my rent—as, I say, I have not tormented you a single instant, I thought you would appreciate my delicacy.”
“How can it be otherwise, my dear Bonacieux?” replied d’Artagnan; “trust me, I am fully grateful for such unparalleled conduct, and if, as I told you, I can be of any service to you—”
“I believe you, Monsieur, I believe you; and as I was about to say, by the word of Bonacieux, I have confidence in you.”
“Finish, then, what you were about to say.”
The citizen took a paper from his pocket, and presented it to d’Artagnan.
“A letter?” said the young man.
“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.”