“What the devil!” said the host to himself. “Can he be afraid of this boy?” But an imperious glance from the unknown stopped him short; he bowed humbly and retired.

“Milady must see nothing of this fellow,” continued the stranger. “She will soon pass by; she is already late. I had better get on horseback, and go and meet her. I should like, however, to know what this letter addressed to Tréville contains.”

And the unknown, muttering to himself, directed his steps towards the kitchen.

In the meantime the host, who entertained no doubt that it was the presence of the young man which was driving the unknown from his hostelry, had gone up to his wife’s chamber, and found D’Artagnan entirely returned to consciousness. Giving him to understand that the police could deal with him pretty severely for having sought a quarrel with a great lord (for in the opinion of the host the unknown could be nothing less than a great lord), he insisted that, notwithstanding his weakness, he should get up and depart as quickly as possible. D’Artagnan, half-stupefied, without his doublet, and with his head all swathed with bandages, arose then, and urged on by the host, began to descend the stairs; but on arriving at the kitchen the first thing he saw was his antagonist, who stood quietly talking beside the step of a heavy carriage drawn by two large Norman horses.

His interlocutor, whose head appeared through the carriage window, was a woman of from twenty to two-and-twenty years of age. We have already observed with what rapidity D’Artagnan took in every feature of a face. He perceived then, at a glance, that this woman was young and beautiful; and her style of beauty struck him the more forcibly on account of its being totally different from that of the southern countries in which D’Artagnan had hitherto resided. She was pale and fair, with long curls falling in profusion over her shoulders; had large languishing blue eyes, rosy lips, and hands of alabaster. She was talking with great animation with the unknown.

“His eminence, then, orders me—” said the lady.

“To return instantly to England, and to inform him immediately should the duke leave London.”

“And my other instructions?” asked the fair traveller.

“They are contained in this box, which you will not open until you are on the other side of the Channel.”

“Very well; and you, what are you going to do?”

“I—oh! I shall return to Paris.”

“What! without chastising this insolent boy?” asked the lady.

The unknown was about to reply, but at the moment he opened his mouth D’Artagnan, who had heard all, rushed forward through the open door.

“This insolent boy chastises others,” cried he; “and I sincerely hope that he whom he means to chastise will not escape him as he did before.”

“Will not escape him?” replied the unknown, knitting his brow.

“No; before a woman you would not dare to fly, I presume?”

“Remember,” cried milady, seeing the unknown lay his hand on his sword—“remember that the least delay may ruin everything.”