“And I—I swear to you before God, Madame,” said d’Artagnan, “that if I am taken while accomplishing the orders you give me, I will die sooner than do anything that may compromise anyone.”
Then the young woman confided in him the terrible secret of which chance had already communicated to him a part in front of the Samaritaine. This was their mutual declaration of love.
D’Artagnan was radiant with joy and pride. This secret which he possessed, this woman whom he loved! Confidence and love made him a giant.
“I go,” said he; “I go at once.”
“How, you will go!” said Madame Bonacieux; “and your regiment, your captain?”
“By my soul, you had made me forget all that, dear Constance! Yes, you are right; a furlough is needful.”
“Still another obstacle,” murmured Madame Bonacieux, sorrowfully.
“As to that,” cried d’Artagnan, after a moment of reflection, “I shall surmount it, be assured.”
“How so?”
“I will go this very evening to Tréville, whom I will request to ask this favor for me of his brother-in-law, M. des Essart.”
“But another thing.”
“What?” asked d’Artagnan, seeing that Madame Bonacieux hesitated to continue.
“You have, perhaps, no money?”