“But I,” said d’Artagnan, “can go and inform Monsieur Laporte.”

“No doubt you could, only there is one misfortune, and that is that Monsieur Bonacieux is known at the Louvre, and would be allowed to pass; whereas you are not known there, and the gate would be closed against you.”

“Ah, bah!” said d’Artagnan; “you have at some wicket of the Louvre a concierge who is devoted to you, and who, thanks to a password, would—­”

Mme. Bonacieux looked earnestly at the young man.

“And if I give you this password,” said she, “would you forget it as soon as you used it?”

“By my honor, by the faith of a gentleman!” said d’Artagnan, with an accent so truthful that no one could mistake it.

“Then I believe you.  You appear to be a brave young man; besides, your fortune may perhaps be the result of your devotedness.”

“I will do, without a promise and voluntarily, all that I can do to serve the king and be agreeable to the queen.  Dispose of me, then, as a friend.”

“But I—­where shall I go meanwhile?”

“Is there nobody from whose house Monsieur Laporte can come and fetch you?”

“No, I can trust nobody.”

“Stop,” said d’Artagnan; “we are near Athos’s door.  Yes, here it is.”

“Who is this Athos?”

“One of my friends.”

“But if he should be at home and see me?”

“He is not at home, and I will carry away the key, after having placed you in his apartment.”

“But if he should return?”

“Oh, he won’t return; and if he should, he will be told that I have brought a woman with me, and that woman is in his apartment.”

“But that will compromise me sadly, you know.”

“Of what consequence?  Nobody knows you.  Besides, we are in a situation to overlook ceremony.”

“Come, then, let us go to your friend’s house.  Where does he live?”

“Rue Ferou, two steps from here.”

“Let us go!”

Both resumed their way.  As d’Artagnan had foreseen, Athos was not within.  He took the key, which was customarily given him as one of the family, ascended the stairs, and introduced Mme. Bonacieux into the little apartment of which we have given a description.

“You are at home,” said he.  “Remain here, fasten the door inside, and open it to nobody unless you hear three taps like this;” and he tapped thrice—­two taps close together and pretty hard, the other after an interval, and lighter.

“That is well,” said Mme. Bonacieux.  “Now, in my turn, let me give you my instructions.”

“I am all attention.”

“Present yourself at the wicket of the Louvre, on the side of the Rue de l’Echelle, and ask for Germain.”

“Well, and then?”

“He will ask you what you want, and you will answer by these two words, ‘Tours’ and ‘Bruxelles.’  He will at once put himself at your orders.”