“For your master,” said she.

Thereupon she ran toward the carriage, which had turned round in the direction it had come; she jumped on the step, and the carriage drove off.

Planchet turned the note over and over; then, accustomed to passive obedience, he jumped down from the terrace, ran through the lane, and at the end of twenty paces met D’Artagnan, who, having seen all, was coming to him.

“D’Artagnan opened the letter and read these words:

“A person who takes more interest in you than she is willing to confess wishes to know on what day you will be in condition to walk in the forest. To-morrow, at the Hôtel Field of the Cloth of Gold, a lackey in black and red will wait for your reply.”

“Oh, ho!” said D’Artagnan, “this is rather lively. It appears that milady and I are anxious about the health of the same person.—Well, Planchet, how is our good M. de Wardes? He is not dead, then?”

“Oh no, monsieur; he is as well as a man can be with four sword-wounds in his body—for you, without question, inflicted four upon the dear gentleman, and he is still very weak, having lost almost all his blood. As I told you, Lubin did not know me, and he related to me our adventure from one end to the other.”

“Well done, Planchet! you are the king of lackeys. Now jump up on your horse, and let us overtake the carriage.”

This they soon did. At the end of five minutes they perceived the carriage drawn up by the roadside. A cavalier richly dressed was close to the coach door.

The conversation between milady and the cavalier was so animated that D’Artagnan stopped on the other side of the carriage without any one but the pretty maid being aware of his presence.

The conversation took place in English—a language which D’Artagnan could not understand; but by the accent the young man plainly saw that the beautiful Englishwoman was in a great rage. She terminated it by a gesture which left no doubt as to the nature of this conversation: this was a blow with her fan, applied with such force that the little feminine weapon flew into a thousand pieces.

The cavalier broke into a loud laugh, which appeared to exasperate milady.

D’Artagnan thought this was the moment to interfere. He approached the other door, and taking off his hat respectfully,

“Madame,” said he, “will you permit me to offer you my services? This cavalier seems to have made you very angry. Speak one word, madame, and I will take it on myself to punish him for his lack of courtesy.”

At the first word milady turned round, looking at the young man in astonishment; and when he had finished,

“Sir,” said she, in very good French, “I should with great confidence place myself under your protection, if the person who is picking a quarrel with me were not my brother.”

“Ah, excuse me, then,” said D’Artagnan; “you must be aware that I was ignorant of that, madame.”

“What is that presumptuous fellow troubling himself about?” cried the cavalier whom milady had designated as her brother, stooping down to the height of the coach window, “and why does he not go on?”