entrust this secret to you; and for a captain's
commission I would not write it."

"Be satisfied, monsieur," said Planchet, "you shall see if confidence
can be placed in me."

Mounted on an excellent horse, which he was to leave at the end of
twenty leagues in order to take the post, Planchet set off at a gallop,
his spirits a little depressed by the triple promise made him by the
Musketeers, but otherwise as light-hearted as possible.

Bazin set out the next day for Tours, and was allowed eight days for
performing his commission.

The four friends, during the period of these two absences, had, as may
well be supposed, the eye on the watch, the nose to the wind, and the
ear on the hark. Their days were passed in endeavoring to catch all that
was said, in observing the proceeding of the cardinal, and in looking
out for all the couriers who arrived. More than once an involuntary
trembling seized them when called upon for some unexpected service. They
had, besides, to look constantly to their own proper safety; Milady was
a phantom which, when it had once appeared to people, did not allow them
to sleep very quietly.

On the morning of the eighth day, Bazin, fresh as ever, and smiling,
according to custom, entered the cabaret of the Parpaillot as the four
friends were sitting down to breakfast, saying, as had been agreed upon:
"Monsieur Aramis, the answer from your cousin."

The four friends exchanged a joyful glance; half of the work was done.
It is true, however, that it was the shorter and easier part.

Aramis, blushing in spite of himself, took the letter, which was in a
large, coarse hand and not particular for its orthography.

"Good God!" cried he, laughing, "I quite despair of my poor Michon; she
will never write like Monsieur de Voiture."

"What does you mean by boor Michon?" said the Swiss, who was chatting
with the four friends when the letter came.

"Oh, pardieu, less than nothing," said Aramis; "a charming little
seamstress, whom I love dearly and from whose hand I requested a few
lines as a sort of keepsake."

"The duvil!" said the Swiss, "if she is as great a lady as her writing
is large, you are a lucky fellow, gomrade!"

Aramis read the letter, and passed it to Athos.

"See what she writes to me, Athos," said he.

Athos cast a glance over the epistle, and to disperse all the suspicions
that might have been created, read aloud:

"My cousin, My sister and I are skillful in interpreting dre