Plan of Campaign
D’Artagnan went straight to M. de Tréville’s h？tel. He had considered that in a few minutes the cardinal would be warned by this cursed unknown， who appeared to be his agent， and he rightly judged he had not a moment to lose.
The young man’s heart overflowed with joy. An opportunity presented itself to him in which there would be both glory and money to be gained， and as a far higher encouragement still， had just brought him into close intimacy with the woman he adored. This chance was doing， then， for him， almost at once， more than he would have dared to ask of Providence.
“You have something to say to me， my young friend？” said M. de Tréville.
“Yes， sir，” said D’Artagnan； “and you will pardon me， I hope， for having disturbed you when you know the importance of my business.”
“Speak， then； I am all attention.”
“It concerns nothing less，” said D’Artagnan， lowering his voice， “than the honour， perhaps the life， of the queen.”
“What are you saying？” asked M. de Tréville， glancing round to see if they were alone， and then fixing his scrutinizing look upon D’Artagnan.
“I say， sir， that chance has rendered me master of a secret—”
“Which you will keep， I hope， young man， with your life.”
“But which I must impart to you， sir， for you alone can assist me in the mission I have just received from her Majesty.”
“Is this secret your own？”
“No， sir； it is the queen’s.”
“Keep your secret， young man， and tell me what you wish.”
“I wish you to obtain for me， from M. des Essarts， leave of absence for a fortnight.”
“When？”
“This very night.”
“You are leaving Paris？”
“I am going on a mission.”
“May you tell me where？”
“To London.”
“Has any one an interest in preventing you reaching there？”
“The cardinal， I believe， would give anything in the world to hinder me from succeeding.”
“And you are going alone？”
“I am going alone.”
“In that case you will not get beyond Bondy. I tell you so， by the word of De Tréville.”
“How so， sir？”
“You will be assassinated.”
“And I shall die in the performance of my duty.”
“But your mission will not be accomplished.”
“That is true，” replied D’Artagnan.
“Believe me，” continued Tréville， “in enterprises of this kind， four must set out， for one to arrive.”
“Ah， you are right， sir，” said D’Artagnan； “but you know Athos， Porthos， and Aramis， and you know whether I can make use of them.”
“Without confiding to them the secret which I did not wish to know？”
“We are sworn， once and for ever， to implicit confidence and devotion against all proof. Besides， you can tell them that you have full confidence in me， and they will not be more incredulous than you.”
“I can send to each of them leave of absence for a fortnight， that is all—Athos， whose wound still gives him inconvenience， to go to the waters of Forges； Porthos and Aramis to accompany their friend， whom they are not willing to abandon in such a painful position. Sending their leave of absence will be proof enough that I authorize their journey.”
“Thanks， sir. You are a hundred times too good！”
“Go， then， and find them instantly， and let all be done tonight. Ah！ but first write your request to M. des Essarts. You perhaps had a spy at your heels， and your visit—in that case already known to the cardinal—will be thus made regular.”
D’Artagnan drew up his request， and M. de Tréville， on receiving it， assured him that before two o’clock in the morning the four furloughs should be at the respective domiciles of the travellers.
“Have the goodness to send mine to Athos’s residence，” said D’Artagnan. “I should fear some disagreeable encounter if I were to go home.”
“I will. Farewell， and a prosperous journey！ By the way，” said M. de Tréville， calling him back，D’Artagnan returned.
“Have you any money？”
D’Artagnan jingled the bag he had in his pocket.
“Enough？” asked M. de Tréville.
“Three hundred pistoles.”
“Excellent！ That would carry you to the end of the world. Go， then！”
D’Artagnan bowed to M. de Tréville， who held out his hand to him. D’Artagnan pressed it with a respect mixed with gratitude. Since his first arrival at Paris he had had constant occasion to honour this excellent man， whom he had always found worthy， loyal， and great.
