sois,--I know not where it may be,--she may at her ease study
sentiment and pastoral life combined."

These words were uttered with a vehemence and harshness that terrified
Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente; and the consequence was, that, as far
as she was concerned, she promised to tell as many falsehoods as might
be necessary. It was in this frame of mind that Madame and her companion
reached the precincts of the royal oak.

"Here we are," said Tonnay-Charente.

"We shall soon learn if one can overhear," replied Madame.

"Hush!" whispered the young girl, holding Madame back with a hurried
gesture, entirely forgetful of her companion's rank. Madame stopped.

"You see that you can hear," said Athenais.

"How?"

"Listen."

Madame held her breath; and, in fact, the following words pronounced by
a gentle and melancholy voice, floated towards them:

"I tell you, vicomte, I tell you I love her madly; I tell you I love her
to distraction."

Madame started at the voice; and, beneath her hood, a bright joyous
smile illumined her features. It was she who now held back her
companion, and with a light step leading her some twenty paces away,
that is to say, out of the reach of the voice, she said, "Remain here,
my dear Athenais, and let no one surprise us. I think it must be you
they are conversing about."

"Me, Madame?"

"Yes, you--or rather your adventure. I will go and listen; if we were
both there, we should be discovered. Or, stay!--go and fetch Montalais,
and then return and wait for me with her at the entrance of the forest."
And then, as Athenais hesitated, she again said "Go!" in a voice which
did not admit of reply. Athenais thereupon arranged her dress so as to
prevent its rustling being heard; and, by a path beyond the group of
trees, she regained the flower-garden. As for Madame, she concealed
herself in the thicket, leaning her back against a gigantic
chestnut-tree, one of the branches of which had been cut in such
a manner as to form a seat, and waited there, full of anxiety and
apprehension. "Now," she said, "since one can hear from this place, let
us listen to what M. de Bragelonne and that other madly-in-love fool,
the Comte de Guiche, have to say about me."

Chapter XLV. In Which Madame Acquires a Proof that Listeners Hear What
Is Said.

There was a moment's silence, as if the mysterious sounds of night were
hushed to listen, at the same time as Madame, to the youthful passionate
disclosures