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The Pavilion

           "Well,ifyouarecold,Planchet,youcangointooneofthosecabaretsthatyouseeyonder,andbeinwaitingformeatthedoorbysixo’clockinthemorning."

           "Monsieur,Ihaveeatenanddrunkrespectfullythecrownyougavemethismorning,sothatIhavenotasouleftincaseIshouldbecold."

           "Here’shalfapistole.Tomorrowmorning."

           D’Artagnansprangfromhishorse,threwthebridletoPlanchet,anddepartedataquickpace,foldinghiscloakaroundhim.

           "GoodLord,howcoldIam!"criedPlanchet,assoonashehadlostsightofhismaster;andinsuchhastewashetowarmhimselfthathewentstraighttoahousesetoutwithalltheattributesofasuburbantavern,andknockedatthedoor.

           Inthemeantimed’Artagnan,whohadplungedintoabypath,continuedhisrouteandreachedSt.Cloud;butinsteadoffollowingthemainstreetheturnedbehindthechateau,reachedasortofretiredlane,andfoundhimselfsooninfrontofthepavilionnamed.Itwassituatedinaveryprivatespot.Ahighwall,attheangleofwhichwasthepavilion,ranalongonesideofthislane,andontheotherwasalittlegardenconnectedwithapoorcottagewhichwasprotectedbyahedgefrompassers-by.

           Hegainedtheplaceappointed,andasnosignalhadbeengivenhimbywhichtoannouncehispresence,hewaited.

           Nottheleastnoisewastobeheard;itmightbeimaginedthathewasahundredmilesfromthecapital.D’Artagnanleanedagainstthehedge,afterhavingcastaglancebehindit.

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