Higher, sir, higher.
Of Madame dAiguillon?
Of Madame de Chevreuse?
Higher, much higher.
Of the DArtagnan stopped.Yes, sir, replied the terrified bourgeois, in a tone so low that he was scarcely audible.
And with whom?
With whom can it be, if not with the Duke of
The Duke of
Yes, sir, replied the bourgeois, giving a still lower intonation to his voice.
But how do you know all this?
How do I know it?
Yes, how do you know it? No half-confidence, oryou understand!
I know it from my wife, sirfrom my wife herself.
And she knows it, she herself, from whom?
From M. de la Porte. Did I not tell you that she was the god-daughter of M. de la Porte, the queens confidential agent? Well, M. de la Porte placed her near her Majesty, in order that our poor queen might at least have some one in whom she could place confidence, abandoned as she is by the king, watched as she is by the cardinal, betrayed as she is by everybody.
Ah, ah! it begins to grow clear, said DArtagnan.
And the queen believes
Well, what does the queen believe?
She believes that some one has written to the Duke of Buckingham in her name.
In the queens name?
Yes, to make him come to Paris; and when once in Paris, to draw him into some snare.
The devil! But your wife, sir, what has she to do with all this?
Her devotion to the queen is known, and they wish either to remove her from her mistress, or to intimidate her, in order to obtain her Majestys secrets, or to seduce her and make use of her as a spy.
That is all very probable, said DArtagnan; but the man who has carried her offdo you know him?
I have told you that I believe I know him.
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