No one ought to do anything with which the king is unacquainted, especially those who belong to the court." "I no longer belong to the court, monsieur." D'Artagnan looked at the young girl with increasing astonishment.
"Do not be uneasy, monsieur," she continued: "I have well calculated everything; and were it not so, it would now be too late to reconsider my resolution,--all is decided." "Well, mademoiselle, what do you wish me to do ?" "In the name of that sympathy which misfortune inspires, by your generous feeling, and by your honor as a gentleman, I entreat you to promise me one thing." "Name it." "Swear to me, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that you will not tell the king that you have seen me, and that I am at the Carmelites." "I will not swear that," said D'Artagnan, shaking his head.
"Why ?" "Because I know the king, I know you, I know myself even, nay, the whole human race, too well; no, no, I will not swear that!" "In that case," cried La Valliere, with an energy of which one would hardly have thought her capable, "instead of the blessing which I should have implored for you until my dying day, I will invoke a curse, for you are rendering me the most miserable creature that ever lived." We have already observed that D'Artagnan could easily recognize the accents of truth and sincerity, and he could not resist this last appeal.

He saw by her face how bitterly she suffered from a feeling of degradation, he remarked her trembling limbs, how her whole slight and delicate frame was violently agitated by some internal struggle, and clearly perceived that resistance might be fatal.

"I will do as you wish, then," he said.

"Be satisfied, mademoiselle, I will say nothing to the king." "Oh! thanks, thanks," exclaimed La Valliere, "you are the most generous man breathing." And in her extreme delight she seized hold of D'Artagnan's hands and pressed them between her own.

D'Artagnan, who felt himself quite overcome, said: "This is touching, upon my word; she begins where others leave off." And La Valliere, who, in the bitterness of her distress, had sunk upon the ground, rose and walked towards the convent of the Carmelites, which could now, in the dawning light, be perceived just before them.
D'Artagnan followed her at a distance.