perceived then, at a glance, that this woman was young and beautiful;
and her style of beauty struck him more forcibly from 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, blue, languishing eyes, rosy
lips, and hands of alabaster. She was talking with great animation with
the stranger.

"His Eminence, then, orders me--" said the lady.

"To return instantly to England, and to inform him as soon as the duke
leaves London."

"And as to my other instructions?" asked the fair traveler.

"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 will you do?"

"I--I return to Paris."

"What, without chastising this insolent boy?" asked the lady.

The stranger was about to reply; but at the moment he opened his mouth,
d'Artagnan, who had heard all, precipitated himself over the threshold
of the door.

"This insolent boy chastises others," cried he; "and I hope that this
time he whom he ought to chastise will not escape him as before."

"Will not escape him?" replied the stranger, knitting his brow.

"No; before a woman you would dare not fly, I presume?"

"Remember," said Milady, seeing the stranger lay his hand on his sword,
"the least delay may ruin everything."

"You are right," cried the gentleman; "begone then, on your part, and I
will depart as quickly on mine." And bowing to the lady, sprang into his
saddle, while her coachman applied his whip vigorously to his horses.
The two interlocutors thus separated, taking opposite directions, at
full gallop.

"Pay him, booby!" cried the stranger to his servant, without checking
the speed of his horse; and the man, after throwing two or three silver
pieces at the foot of mine host, galloped after his master.

"Base coward! false gentleman!" cried d'Artagnan, springing forward, in
his turn, after the servant. But his wound had rendered him too weak to
support such an exertion. Scarcely had he gone ten steps when his ears
began to tingle, a faintness seized him, a cloud of blood passed
over his eyes, and he fell in the middle of the street, crying still,
"Coward! coward! coward!"

"He is a coward, indeed," grumbled the host, drawing near to d'Artagnan,
and endeavoring by this little flattery to make up matters with the
young man, as the heron