40 LOUISE DE LA VALLIERE. all about stables; so come into the house." And he led the way along a well-sheltered walk, which crossed a kitchen- garden, then a small paddock, and came out into a little garden behind the house, the principal front of which, as we have already noticed, was facing the street. As they approached they could see, through the two open windows on the ground floor, which led into a sitting-room, the interior of Planchet's residence. This room, softly lighted by a lamp placed on the table, seemed, from the end of the garden, like a smiling image of repose, comfort, and happi- ness. In every direction where the rays of light fell, whether upon a piece of old china or upon an article of furniture shining from excessive neatness, or upon the weapons hanging against the wall, the soft light was as softly reflected ; and its rays seemed to linger everywhere upon something or another agreeable to the eye. The lamp which lighted the room, while the foliage of jasmine and climbing roses hung in masses from the window-frames, splendidly illuminated a damask tablecloth as white as snow. The table was laid for two persons. An amber- colored wine sparkled in the long cut-glass bottle, and a large jug of blue china, wibh a silver lid, was filled with foaming cider Near the table, in a high-backed armchair, reclined fast asleep a woman of about thirty years of age, her face the very picture of health and freshness. Upon her knees lay a large cat, with her paws folded under her, and her eyes half-closed, purring in that significant manner which, according to feline habits, indicates perfect content- ment. The two friends paused before the window, in com- plete amazement, while Planchet, perceiving their astonish- ment, was, in no little degree, secretly delighted at it. "Ah! Planchet, you rascal," said D'Artagnan, "I now understand your absences." "Oh! oh! there is some white linen!" said Porthos, in his turn, in a voice of thunder. At the sound of this voice the cat took flight, the housekeeper woke up suddenly, and Planchet, assuming a gracious air, introduced his two com- panions into the room, where the table was already laid. "Permit me, my dear," he said, "to present to you Mon- sieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan, my patron." D'Artagnan took the lady's hand in his in the most courteous manner, and with precisley the same chivalrous air as he would have taken madame's. "Monsieur le Baron du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierre- fonds," added Planchet. Porthos bowed with a reverence of which Anne of Austria would have annroved.
