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- Александр Дюма
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Wrapped
in
this
sweet
idea
,
d'Artagnan
waited
half
an
hour
without
the
least
impatience
,
his
eyes
fixed
upon
that
charming
little
abode
of
which
he
could
perceive
a
part
of
the
ceiling
with
its
gilded
moldings
,
attesting
the
elegance
of
the
rest
of
the
apartment
.
The
belfry
of
St.
Cloud
sounded
half
past
ten
.
This
time
,
without
knowing
why
,
d'Artagnan
felt
a
cold
shiver
run
through
his
veins
.
Perhaps
the
cold
began
to
affect
him
,
and
he
took
a
perfectly
physical
sensation
for
a
moral
impression
.
Then
the
idea
seized
him
that
he
had
read
incorrectly
,
and
that
the
appointment
was
for
eleven
o'clock
.
He
drew
near
to
the
window
,
and
placing
himself
so
that
a
ray
of
light
should
fall
upon
the
letter
as
he
held
it
,
he
drew
it
from
his
pocket
and
read
it
again
;
but
he
had
not
been
mistaken
,
the
appointment
was
for
ten
o'clock
.
He
went
and
resumed
his
post
,
beginning
to
be
rather
uneasy
at
this
silence
and
this
solitude
.
Eleven
o'clock
sounded
.
D'Artagnan
began
now
really
to
fear
that
something
had
happened
to
Mme.
Bonacieux
.
He
clapped
his
hands
three
times
--
the
ordinary
signal
of
lovers
;
but
nobody
replied
to
him
,
not
even
an
echo
.
He
then
thought
,
with
a
touch
of
vexation
,
that
perhaps
the
young
woman
had
fallen
asleep
while
waiting
for
him
.
He
approached
the
wall
,
and
tried
to
climb
it
;
but
the
wall
had
been
recently
pointed
,
and
d'Artagnan
could
get
no
hold
.
At
that
moment
he
thought
of
the
trees
,
upon
whose
leaves
the
light
still
shone
;
and
as
one
of
them
drooped
over
the
road
,
he
thought
that
from
its
branches
he
might
get
a
glimpse
of
the
interior
of
the
pavilion
.
The
tree
was
easy
to
climb
.
Besides
,
d'Artagnan
was
but
twenty
years
old
,
and
consequently
had
not
yet
forgotten
his
schoolboy
habits
.
In
an
instant
he
was
among
the
branches
,
and
his
keen
eyes
plunged
through
the
transparent
panes
into
the
interior
of
the
pavilion
.
