Since the four friends had each been outfit-hunting they had had no regular meeting. They dined separately wherever they happened to be， or rather wherever they might find a dinner. Military duty likewise claimed its share of the precious time that was gliding away so swiftly.
They had agreed， however， to meet once a week about one o’clock at Athos’s.
The day that Kitty went to see D’Artagnan was the day for their reunion.
Kitty had barely left him before D’Artagnan directed his steps towards the Rue Férou.
Porthos arrived a minute after D’Artagnan. Thus the four friends were all assembled.
Their four faces expressed four different feelings—Porthos’s， tranquillity； D’Artagnan’s， hope； Aramis’s， anxiety； and Athos’s， carelessness.
Bazin made his appearance at the door.
“What do you want of me， my friend？” said Aramis， with that mildness of language which was observable in him every time that this ideas led toward the church.
“A man is waiting for you at home，” replied Bazin.
“Has he sent no special message for me？”
“Yes. ‘If M. Aramis hesitates to come，’ he said， ‘tell him I am from Tours.’ ”
“From Tours！” cried Aramis. “A thousand pardons， gentlemen， but no doubt this man brings me the news I expected.”
And instantly arising， he went off at a quick pace.
We will therefore leave the friends， who had nothing very important to say to each other， and follow Aramis.
On the news that the person wanted to speak to him came from Tours， we saw with what rapidity the young man followed or rather hastened ahead of Bazin： he ran without stopping from the Rue Férou to the Rue de Vaugirard.
On entering， he found a man of short stature and intelligent eyes， but covered with rags.
“Did you ask for me？” said the musketeer.
“I wish to speak with Monsieur Aramis. Is that your name， sir？”
“Yes. You have brought me something？”
“Yes， if you can show me a certain embroidered handkerchief.”
“Here it is，” said Aramis， taking a key from his breast， and opening a litte ebony box inlaid with mother-of-pearl—“here it is—look！”
The mendicant cast a rapid glance around him， in order to be sure that nobody could either see or hear him， and opening his ragged jacket， badly held together by a leather strap， he began to rip the upper part of his doublet， and drew a letter from it.
Aramis uttered a cry of joy at the sight of the seal， kissed the superscription， and with almost religious respect opened the letter， which contained the following：
“Love—Fate wills that we should be still for some time separated； but the delightful days of youth are not lost beyond return. Perform your duty in camp； I will do mine elsewhere. Accept what the bearer brings you； take part in the campaign like a true gentleman， and think of me， who tenderly kiss your black eyes！
“Adieu！ or， rather， au revoir！”
The mendicant kept ripping. He drew one by one from out his rags a hundred and fifty Spanish double pistoles， and laid them down on the table. The he opened the door， bowed， and went out before the young man， stupefied， had a chance to address a word to him.
Aramis then re-read the letter， and perceived there was a postscript.
“P.S.—You may welcome the bearer， who is a count and a grandee of Spain.”
And he passionately kissed the letter， without even looking at the gold sparkling on the table.
Bazin was dazed at the sight of the gold， and forgot that he was coming to announce D’Artagnan， who， curious to know who the mendicant was， came to Aramis’s residence on leaving Athos’s.
Now， as D’Artagnan used no ceremony with Aramis， when he saw that Bazin forgot to announce him， he announced himself.
“The devil！ my dear Aramis，” said D’Artagnan， “if these are the prunes that are sent to you from Tours， you will make my compliments to the gardener who gathers them.”
“You are mistaken， my dear，” said Aramis， who was always discreet； “my bookseller has just sent me the price of that poem in one-syllable verse which I began yonder.”
And having put two or three double pistoles into his pocket to answer the needs of the moment， he locked the others in the ebony box inlaid with mother-of-pearl， where he kept the famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman.