“I will leave you with this stranger； but as soon as he is gone， if you will permit me， I will return.”
“Certainly！ I beg you will.”
The mother-superior and Madame Bonacieux retired.
Milady was left alone， with her eyes fixed on the door. An instant after the jingling of spurs was heard on the stairs， then steps approached， the door opened， and a man appeared.
Milady uttered a cry of joy. This man was the Comte de Rochefort， the cardinal’s personal agent.
“Ah！” cried milady and Rochefort together， “so it is you？”
“Yes， it is.”
“And you come？” asked milady.
“From Rochelle. And you？”
“From England.”
“Buckingham？”
“Dead or desperately wounded， as I was leaving without having succeeded in obtaining anything from him. A fanatic assassinated him.”
“Ah！” said Rochefort， with a smile， “this is a piece of good luck— one that will delight his Eminence！ Have you informed him of it？”
“I wrote to him from Boulogne. But what brings you here？”
“His Eminence was uneasy， and sent me to inquire after you.”
“What did the cardinal say with respect to me？”
“I was to take your dispatches， written or verbal， to return posthaste； and when he shall know what you have done， he will think of what you have to do.”
“So I must remain here？”
“Here， or in the neighbourhood.”
“You cannot take me with you？”
“No； the order is imperative. Near the camp you might be recognized； and your presence， you must be aware， would compromise his Eminence.”
“You are right.”
“Now， will you make me a report of all that has happened？”
“Why， I have related the events to you. You have a good memory； repeat what I have told you. A paper may get lost.”
“You are right； only let me know where to find you， so that I may not lost time in hunting for you about the neighbourhood.”
“You are right； wait.”
“Do you want a map？”
“Oh， I know this country well.”
“You will wait for me， then， at—”
“Let me reflect a moment. Oh yes， at Armentières.”
“What is Armentières？”
“A little town upon the Lys. I shall only have to cross the river， and I shall be in a foreign country.”
“Capital！ But it is understood you will cross the river only in case of danger.”
“Certainly.”
“And you say you will wait for me at Armentières？”
“At Armentières.”
“Write that name on a piece of paper， lest I forget it. That is not compromising； a name of a town， is it？”
“Eh！ who knows？ No matter，” said milady， writing the name on a half sheet of paper； “I will run the risk.”
“Good！” said Rochefort， taking the paper from milady， folding it， and placing it in the lining of hit hat. “Besides， do not worry. I will do as children do， and in case I lose the paper， I will repeat the name as I go along. Now， is that all？”
“Good！ When do you start？”
“In an hour—time to eat a morsel while I am sending for a post-horse.”
“Capital. Farewell， chevalier！”
“Farewell， countess！”
“Recommend me warmly to his Eminence！”
“Recommend me to Satan！”
Milady and Rochefort exchanged a smile and separated.
An hour afterwards Rochefort set out at his horse’s best speed； five hours after that he was passing through Arras.
Our readers already know how he was recognized by D’Artagnan， and how the fact， by suggesting fears to the four musketeers， gave fresh activity to their journey.
