“Handsome, well-bred, noble lord as you are, my dear Athos, neither princesses nor queens would be secure from your amorous solicitations.”
“How young this d’Artagnan is!” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders; and he made a sign to Grimaud to bring another bottle.
At that moment Planchet put his head modestly in at the half-open door, and told his master that the horses were ready.
“What horses?” asked Athos.
“Two horses that M. de Tréville lends me at my pleasure, and with which I am now going to take a ride to St. Germain.”
“Well, and what are you going to do at St. Germain?” then demanded Athos.
Then d’Artagnan described the meeting which he had at the church, and how he had found that lady who, with the seigneur in the black cloak and with the scar near his temple, filled his mind constantly.
“That is to say, you are in love with this lady as you were with Madame Bonacieux,” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously, as if he pitied human weakness.
“I? Not at all!” said d’Artagnan. “I am only curious to unravel the mystery to which she is attached. I do not know why, but I imagine that this woman, wholly unknown to me as she is, and wholly unknown to her as I am, has an influence over my life.”
“Well, perhaps you are right,” said Athos. “I do not know a woman that is worth the trouble of being sought for when she is once lost. Madame Bonacieux is lost; so much the worse for her if she is found.”
“No, Athos, no, you are mistaken,” said d’Artagnan; “I love my poor Constance more than ever, and if I knew the place in which she is, were it