his master
with his finger.

Athos recognized his comrade, and phlegmatic as he was, he burst into
a laugh which was quite excused by the strange masquerade before
his eyes--petticoats falling over his shoes, sleeves tucked up, and
mustaches stiff with agitation.

"Don't laugh, my friend!" cried d'Artagnan; "for heaven's sake, don't
laugh, for upon my soul, it's no laughing matter!"

And he pronounced these words with such a solemn air and with such a
real appearance of terror, that Athos eagerly seized his hand, crying,
"Are you wounded, my friend? How pale you are!"

"No, but I have just met with a terrible adventure! Are you alone,
Athos?"

"PARBLEU! whom do you expect to find with me at this hour?"

"Well, well!" and d'Artagnan rushed into Athos's chamber.

"Come, speak!" said the latter, closing the door and bolting it, that
they might not be disturbed. "Is the king dead? Have you killed the
cardinal? You are quite upset! Come, come, tell me; I am dying with
curiosity and uneasiness!"

"Athos," said d'Artagnan, getting rid of his female garments, and
appearing in his shirt, "prepare yourself to hear an incredible, an
unheard-of story."

"Well, but put on this dressing gown first," said the Musketeer to his
friend.

D'Artagnan donned the robe as quickly as he could, mistaking one sleeve
for the other, so greatly was he still agitated.

"Well?" said Athos.

"Well," replied d'Artagnan, bending his mouth to Athos's ear, and
lowering his voice, "Milady is marked with a FLEUR-DE-LIS upon her
shoulder!"

"Ah!" cried the Musketeer, as if he had received a ball in his heart.

"Let us see," said d'Artagnan. "Are you SURE that the OTHER is dead?"

"THE OTHER?" said Athos, in so stifled a voice that d'Artagnan scarcely
heard him.

"Yes, she of whom you told me one day at Amiens."

Athos uttered a groan, and let his head sink on his hands.

"This is a woman of twenty-six or twenty-eight years."

"Fair," said Athos, "is she not?"

"Very."

"Blue and clear eyes, of a strange brilliancy, with black eyelids and
eyebrows?"

"Yes."

"Tall, well-made? She has lost a tooth, next to the eyetooth on the
left?"

"Yes."

"The FLEUR-DE-LIS is small, rosy in color, and looks as if efforts had
been made to efface it by the application of poultices?"

"Yes."

"But you say she is English?"

"She is called Milady, but she may be French. Lord de Winter is only her
brother-in-law."

"I will see her, d'Ar