“Yes, I know that he meant to afford you that agreeable surprise.”
“Be satisfied,” replied Bonacieux; “my wife adores me, and there is yet time.”
“The ninny!” murmured Madame Bonacieux.
“Silence!” said d’Artagnan, pressing her hand more closely.
“How is there still time?” asked the man in the cloak.
“I go to the Louvre; I ask for Madame Bonacieux; I say that I have reflected; I renew the affair; I obtain the letter, and I run directly to the cardinal.”
“Well, go quickly! I will return soon to learn the result of your trip.”
The stranger went out.
“Infamous!” said Madame Bonacieux, addressing this epithet to her husband.
“Silence!” said d’Artagnan, pressing her hand still more warmly.
A terrible howling interrupted these reflections of d’Artagnan and Madame Bonacieux. It was her husband, who had discovered the disappearance of the moneybag, and was crying “Thieves!”
“Oh, my God!” cried Madame Bonacieux, “he will rouse the whole quarter.”
Bonacieux called a long time; but as such cries, on account of their frequency, brought nobody in the Rue des Fossoyeurs, and as lately the mercer’s house had a bad name, finding that nobody came, he went out continuing to call, his voice being heard fainter and fainter as he went in the direction of the Rue du Bac.