place at the Louvre in the last three days, and whether there is any danger in presenting myself there.”
“But I,” said d’Artagnan, “can go and inform M. Laporte.”
“No doubt you could, only there is one misfortune, and that is that M. Bonacieux is known at the Louvre, and would be allowed to pass; whereas you are not known there, and the gate would be closed against you.”
“Ah, bah!” said d’Artagnan; “you have at some wicket of the Louvre a concierge who is devoted to you, and who, thanks to a password, would—”
Madame Bonacieux looked earnestly at the young man.
“And if I give you this password,” said she, “would you forget it as soon as you used it?”
“By my honor, by the faith of a gentleman!” said d’Artagnan, with an accent so truthful that no one could mistake it.
“Then I believe you. You appear to be a brave young man; besides, your fortune may perhaps be the result of your devotedness.”
“I will do, without a promise and voluntarily, all that I can do to serve the king and be agreeable to the queen. Dispose of me, then, as a friend.”
“But I—where shall I go meanwhile?”
“Is there nobody from whose house M. Laporte can come and fetch you?”
“No, I can trust nobody.”
“Stop,” said d’Artagnan; “we are near Athos’s door. Yes, here it is.”