She was in a little boudoir, hung with blue damask, adorned by red flowers, with a foliage of gold, looking upon a garden; and reclined upon a sofa, her head supported on the rich tapestry which covered it.  She held a book in her hand and her arm was supported by a cushion.

At the footman’s announcement she raised herself a little and peeped out, with some curiosity.

Athos appeared.

He was dressed in violet-tinted velvet, trimmed with silk of the same color.  His shoulder-knots were of burnished silver, his mantle had no gold nor embroidery on it; a simple plume of violet feathers adorned his hat; his boots were of black leather, and at his girdle hung that sword with a magnificent hilt that Porthos had so often admired in the Rue Feron.  Splendid lace adorned the falling collar of his shirt, and lace fell also over the top of his boots.

In his whole person he bore such an impress of high degree, that Madame de Chevreuse half rose from her seat when she saw him and made him a sign to sit down near her.

Athos bowed and obeyed.  The footman was withdrawing, but Athos stopped him by a sign.

“Madame,” he said to the duchess, “I have had the boldness to present myself at your hotel without being known to you; it has succeeded, since you deign to receive me.  I have now the boldness to ask you for an interview of half an hour.”

“I grant it, monsieur,” replied Madame de Chevreuse with her most gracious smile.

“But that is not all, madame.  Oh, I am very presuming, I am aware.  The interview for which I ask is of us two alone, and I very earnestly wish that it may not be interrupted.”

“I am not at home to any one,” said the Duchess de Chevreuse to the footman.  “You may go.”

The footman went out

There ensued a brief silence, during which these two persons, who at first sight recognized each other so clearly as of noble race, examined each other without embarrassment on either side.

The duchess was the first to speak.

“Well, sir, I am waiting with impatience to hear what you wish to say to me.”

“And I, madame,” replied Athos, “am looking with admiration.”

“Sir,” said Madame de Chevreuse, “you must excuse me, but I long to know to whom I am talking.  You belong to the court, doubtless, yet I have never seen you at court.  Have you, by any chance, been in the Bastile?”

“No, madame, I have not; but very likely I am on the road to it.”

“Ah! then tell me who you are, and get along with you upon your journey,” replied the duchess, with the gayety which made her so charming, “for I am sufficiently in bad odor already, without compromising myself still more.”

“Who I am, madame?  My name has been mentioned to you —­ the Comte de la Fere; you do not know that name.  I once bore another, which you knew, but you have certainly forgotten it.”

“Tell it me, sir.”