D’Artagnan， stranger as he was to all the manners of a court， could not but perceive a little coldness in this reception.
“Alas， sir，” said he， “I can but perceive how sadly I miss the letter of introduction which my father gave me to present to you.”
“I certainly am surprised，” replied M. de Tréville， “that you should undertake so long a journey without that necessary viaticum， the only resource of us poor Béarnese.”“I had one， sir， and， thank God， such as I could wish，” cried D’Artagnan， “but it was perfidiously stolen from me.”
He then related the adventure at Meung， described the unknown gentleman with the greatest minuteness， and all with a warmth and truthfulness that delighted M. de Tréville.
“This is all very strange，” said the latter， after meditating a minute. “You mentioned my name， then， aloud？”
“Yes， sir； I certainly committed that imprudence. But why should I have done otherwise？ A name like yours was to serve me as a buckler on my way. You can fancy whether I often hid myself behind it or no！”
Flattery was at that period very much in fashion， and M. de Tréville loved incense as well as a king， or even a cardinal. He could not then refrain from a smile of evident satisfaction； but this smile soon disappeared， and returning to the adventure at Meung，“Tell me，” continued he， “had not this gentleman a slight scar on his cheek？”
“Yes， such a one as would be made by the grazing of a ball.”
“Was he not a fine-looking man？”
“Yes.”
“Of lofty stature？”
“Yes.”
“Of pale complexion and brown hair？”
“Yes， yes， that is he！ How is it， sir， that you are acquainted with this man？ If ever I should meet him again， and I will find him， I swear， were it in hell—”
“He was waiting for a woman？” continued Tréville.
“He at least departed immediately after having conversed for a minute with the one for whom he was waiting.”
“You do not know what was the subject of their conversation？”
“He gave her a box， told her that box contained her instructions， and desired her not to open it before she arrived in London.”
“Was this an Englishwoman？”
“He called her Milady.”
“It is he！ it must be he！” murmured Tréville. “I thought he was still at Brussels！”
“O sir， if you know who and what this man is，” cried D’Artagnan， “tell me who he is and whence he is. I will then release you from all your promises—even that of procuring my admission into the musketeers. For， before everything， I wish to avenge myself.”
“Beware， young man！” cried De Tréville. “If you see him coming on one side of the street， pass by on the other. Do not cast yourself against such a rock； he would break you like glass.”
“That thought will not prevent me，” replied D’Artagnan， “if ever I should happen to meet with him—”
“In the meantime， if you will take my advice， you will not seek him，” said Tréville， and leaving his young compatriot in the embrasure of the window， where they had talked together， he seated himself at a table， in order to write the promised letter of recommendation. While he was doing this D’Artagnan， having no better employment， amused himself with beating a march upon the window， and with looking at the musketeers， who went away， one after another， following them with his eyes till they disappeared at the bend of the street.
M. de Tréville， after having written the letter， sealed it， and rising， approached the young man in order to give it to him. But at the very moment that D’Artagnan stretched out his hand to receive it， M. de Tréville was highly astonished to see his protégé make a sudden spring， become crimson with passion， and rush from the room， crying， “Ah， ’sblood！ he shall not escape me this time.”
“Who？ who？” asked M. de Tréville.
“He， my thief！” replied D’Artagnan. “Ah， the traitor！” and he disappeared.
“The devil take the madman！” murmured M. de Tréville.
___________________
1 A liquor squeezed out of grapes， when they have been pressed， and water poured upon them.“I did not know that，” replied M. de Tréville in a somewhat softened tone. “The cardinal exaggerated， as I perceive.”
