A Vision

           Atfouro’clockthefourfriendswereallassembledwithAthos.Theiranxietyabouttheiroutfitshadalldisappeared,andeachcountenanceonlypreservedtheexpressionofitsownsecretdisquietforbehindallpresenthappinessisconcealedafearforthefuture.

           SuddenlyPlanchetentered,bringingtwolettersford’Artagnan.

           Theonewasalittlebillet,genteellyfolded,withaprettysealingreenwaxonwhichwasimpressedadovebearingagreenbranch.

           Theotherwasalargesquareepistle,resplendentwiththeterriblearmsofhisEminencethecardinalduke.

           Atthesightofthelittlelettertheheartofd’Artagnanbounded,forhebelievedherecognizedthehandwriting,andalthoughhehadseenthatwritingbutonce,thememoryofitremainedatthebottomofhisheart.

           Hethereforeseizedthelittleepistle,andopenediteagerly.

           "Be,"saidtheletter,"onThursdaynext,atfromsixtoseveno’clockintheevening,ontheroadtoChaillot,andlookcarefullyintothecarriagesthatpass;butifyouhaveanyconsiderationforyourownlifeorthatofthosewholoveyou,donotspeakasingleword,donotmakeamovementwhichmayleadanyonetobelieveyouhaverecognizedherwhoexposesherselftoeverythingforthesakeofseeingyoubutforaninstant."

           Nosignature.

           "That’sasnare,"saidAthos;"don’tgo,d’Artagnan."

           "Andyet,"repliedd’Artagnan,"IthinkIrecognizethewriting."

           "Itmaybecounterfeit,"saidAthos.

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