“No,” replied Athos, “fortunately Monsieur d’Artagnan has only fainted.”

“Ah, indeed, so much the better!” said Lord de Winter.

At that moment d’Artagnan opened his eyes.  He tore himself from the arms of Porthos and Aramis, and threw himself like a madman on the corpse of his mistress.

Athos rose, walked toward his friend with a slow and solemn step, embraced him tenderly, and as he burst into violent sobs, he said to him with his noble and persuasive voice, “Friend, be a man!  Women weep for the dead; men avenge them!”

“Oh, yes!” cried d’Artagnan, “yes!  If it be to avenge her, I am ready to follow you.”

Athos profited by this moment of strength which the hope of vengeance restored to his unfortunate friend to make a sign to Porthos and Aramis to go and fetch the superior.

The two friends met her in the corridor, greatly troubled and much upset by such strange events; she called some of the nuns, who against all monastic custom found themselves in the presence of five men.

“Madame,” said Athos, passing his arm under that of d’Artagnan, “we abandon to your pious care the body of that unfortunate woman.  She was an angel on earth before being an angel in heaven.  Treat her as one of your sisters.  We will return someday to pray over her grave.”

D’Artagnan concealed his face in the bosom of Athos, and sobbed aloud.

“Weep,” said Athos, “weep, heart full of love, youth, and life!  Alas, would I could weep like you!”

And he drew away his friend, as affectionate as a father, as consoling as a priest, noble as a man who has suffered much.

All five, followed by their lackeys leading their horses, took their way to the town of Bethune, whose outskirts they perceived, and stopped before the first inn they came to.

“But,” said d’Artagnan, “shall we not pursue that woman?”

“Later,” said Athos.  “I have measures to take.”

“She will escape us,” replied the young man; “she will escape us, and it will be your fault, Athos.”

“I will be accountable for her,” said Athos.

D’Artagnan had so much confidence in the word of his friend that he lowered his head, and entered the inn without reply.

Porthos and Aramis regarded each other, not understanding this assurance of Athos.

Lord de Winter believed he spoke in this manner to soothe the grief of d’Artagnan.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Athos, when he had ascertained there were five chambers free in the hotel, “let everyone retire to his own apartment. d’Artagnan needs to be alone, to weep and to sleep.  I take charge of everything; be easy.”

“It appears, however,” said Lord de Winter, “if there are any measures to take against the countess, it concerns me; she is my sister-in-law.”

“And me,” said Athos, “—­she is my wife!”

D’Artagnan smiled—­for he understood that Athos was sure of his vengeance when he revealed such a secret.  Porthos and Aramis looked at each other, and grew pale.  Lord de Winter thought Athos was mad.