“Yes, I understand now: to find one woman, you court another. It is the longest road, but certainly the most amusing.”
D’Artagnan was on the point of telling Athos all; but one consideration restrained him. Athos was a gentleman, punctilious in points of honor; and there were in the plan which our lover had devised for Milady, he was sure, certain things that would not obtain the assent of this Puritan. He was therefore silent; and as Athos was the least inquisitive of any man on earth, d’Artagnan’s confidence stopped there. We will therefore leave the two friends, who had nothing important to say to each other, and follow Aramis.
Upon being informed that the person who wanted to speak to him came from Tours, we have seen with what rapidity the young man followed, or rather went before, Bazin; he ran without stopping from the Rue Férou to the Rue de Vaugirard. On entering he found a man of short stature and intelligent eyes, but covered with rags.
“You have asked for me?” said the musketeer.
“I wish to speak with M. Aramis. Is that your name, Monsieur?”
“My very own. You have brought me something?”
“Yes, if you show me a certain embroidered handkerchief.”
“Here it is,” said Aramis, taking a small key from his breast and opening a little ebony box inlaid with mother of pearl, “here it is. Look.”
“That is right,” replied the mendicant; “dismiss your lackey.”
In fact, Bazin, curious to know what the mendicant could want with his master, kept pace with him as well as he could, and arrived almost at the same time he did; but his quickness was not of much use to him. At the hint from the mendicant his master made him a sign to retire, and he was obliged to obey.