“I? In what can I have offended her⁠—I who ever since I have known her have lived at her feet like a slave? Speak, I beg you!”

“I will never confess that but to the man⁠—who should read to the bottom of my soul!”

D’Artagnan looked at Kitty for the second time. The young girl had freshness and beauty which many duchesses would have purchased with their coronets.

“Kitty,” said he, “I will read to the bottom of your soul whenever you like; don’t let that disturb you.” And he gave her a kiss at which the poor girl became as red as a cherry.

“Oh, no,” said Kitty, “it is not me you love! It is my mistress you love; you told me so just now.”

“And does that hinder you from letting me know the second reason?”