“How can that be?”
“Yes, a forgery; it is a snare to prevent your making any resistance when they come to fetch you.”
“But it is d’Artagnan that will come.”
“Do not deceive yourself. D’Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege of La Rochelle.”
“How do you know that?”
“My brother met some emissaries of the cardinal in the uniform of musketeers. You would have been summoned to the gate; you would have believed yourself about to meet friends; you would have been abducted, and conducted back to Paris.”
“Oh, my God! My senses fail me amid such a chaos of iniquities. I feel, if this continues,” said Madame Bonacieux, raising her hands to her forehead, “I shall go mad!”
“Stop—”
“What?”
“I hear a horse’s steps; it is my brother setting off again. I should like to offer him a last salute. Come!”
Milady opened the window, and made a sign to Madame Bonacieux to join her. The young woman complied.
Rochefort passed at a gallop.
“Adieu, brother!” cried Milady.
The chevalier raised his head, saw the two young women, and without stopping, waved his hand in a friendly way to Milady.