"Ah, Madame," said d'Artagnan, entering by the door which the young woman opened
for him, "allow me to tell you that you have a bad sort of a husband."
"You have, then, overheard our conversation?" asked Mme. Bonacieux, eagerly, and
looking at d'Artagnan with disquiet.
"By a mode of proceeding known to myself, and by which I likewise overheard the more
animated conversation which had with the cardinal's police."
"And what did you understand by what we said?"
"A thousand things. In the first place, that, unfortunately, your husband is a simpleton
and a fool; in the next place, you are in trouble, of which I am very glad, as it gives me a
opportunity of placing myself at your service, and God knows I am ready to throw myself
into the fire for you; finally, that the queen wants a brave, intelligent, devoted man to
make a journey to London for her. I have at least two of the three qualities you stand in
need of, and here I am.
Mme. Bonacieux made no reply; but her heart beat with joy and secret hope shone in her
eyes.
"And what guarantee will you give me," asked she, "if I consent to confide this message
to you?"
"My love for you. Speak! Command! What is to be done?"
"My God, my God!" murmured the young woman, "ought I to confide such a secret to
you, monsieur? You are almost a boy."
"I see that you require someone to answer for me?"
"I admit that would reassure me greatly."
