The two guardsmen courteously accepted D’Artagnan’s excuses, and perceiving that the four friends desired to be alone, they retired.

When the young guardsman and the three musketeers were without witnesses, they looked at each other with an air which plainly expressed that each of them realized the seriousness of the situation.

“In the first place,” said Athos, “let us leave this room; a dead man, especially the victim of a violent death, is not agreeable company.”

The manager gave them another room, and served them with boiled eggs, while Athos went himself to draw water at the spring. In a few words Porthos and Aramis were informed of all that had occurred.

“Well,” said D’Artagnan to Athos, “you see, dear friend, that it is war to the death!”

“Bah!” said Athos; “God has preserved us hitherto; God will preserve us still.”

“Yes, He has. Besides, we are men; and all things considered, it is our lot to risk our lives. But she—” added D’Artagnan in an undertone.

“She? Who?” asked Athos.

“Constance.”

“Madame Bonacieux! Ah, that’s true!” Said Athos. “My poor friend, I had forgotten.”

“Well,” said Aramis, “but have you not learned by the letter you found on the dead assassin that she is in a convent? One may be very comfortable in a convent; and as soon as the siege of Rochelle is over, I promise you, I take upon myself to get news of her.”

“You, Aramis!” cried the three friend. “How?”

“By the queen’s almoner, with whom I am very intimately acquainted.”

And with this assurance the four friends, having finished their modest repast, separated, promising to meet again that evening. D’Artagnan returned to the Minimes, and the three musketeers repaired to the king’s quarters, where they had to prepare their lodging.