expected to be a palace. Come on.”
Raoul nimbly preceded him, and entered first. Two cries were heard
simultaneously—we may say three. One of these cries dominated the others; it emanated from a woman. Another proceeded from the mouth of Raoul; it was an
exclamation of surprise. He had no sooner uttered it than he shut the door sharply. The third was from fright; it came from Planchet.
“I ask your pardon!” added he; “madame is dressing.”
Raoul had, no doubt, seen that what Planchet said was true, for he turned round to go downstairs again.
“Madame—” said Athos. “Oh! pardon me, Planchet, I did not know that
you had upstairs—”
“It is Truchen,” added Planchet, blushing a little.
“It is whoever you please, my good Planchet; but pardon my rudeness.”
“No, no; go up now, gentlemen.”
“W
