Time passes very rapidly in attacks and repulses.
Twelve o’clock struck, and almost at the same time the bell was rung in milady’s chamber.
“Great Heavens!” cried Kitty, “there is my mistress calling me! Go, go quick!”
D’Artagnan rose, took his hat as if it had been his intention to obey; then quickly opening the door of a large wardrobe, instead of the door of the staircase, he crouched down in the midst of milady’s robes and dressing-gowns.
“What are you doing?” cried Kitty.
D’Artagnan, who had secured the key, locked himself into the wardrobe without replying.
“Well,” cried milady, in a sharp voice, “are you asleep, that you don’t answer when I ring?”
And D’Artagnan heard the communicating door open violently.
“Here I am, milady, here I am!” cried Kitty, springing forward to meet her mistress.
Both went into the bedroom, and as the door remained open, D’Artagnan could hear milady for some time scolding her maid. Then at last she grew cooler, and the conversation turned upon him while Kitty was assisting her mistress to undress.
“Well,” said milady, “I have not seen our Gascon this evening.”
“What, milady! has he not been here?” said Kitty. “Could he be inconstant before having been made happy?”
“Oh no; he must have been prevented by M. de Tréville or M. des Essarts. I understand my game, Kitty. I have him safe.”
“What are you going to do with him, madame?”
“Do with him? O Kitty, there is something between that man and me that he is quite ignorant of. He very nearly made me lose my credit with his Eminence. Oh, I will be revenged for that!”
“I thought you loved him.”
“Love him? I detest him—a fool, who held Lord Winter’s life in his hands and did not kill him, so that I missed three hundred thousand livres a year!”
“That’s true,” said Kitty; “your son was his uncle’s only heir, and until his coming of age you would have had the enjoyment of his fortune.”
D’Artagnan shuddered to his very marrow at hearing this gentle creature reproach him in that sharp voice, which she took such pains to conceal in conversation, for not having killed a man whom he had seen load her with kindnesses.
“Therefore,” continued milady, “I should long ago have had my revenge on him, if the cardinal—I don’t know why—had not requested me to treat him kindly.”
“Oh yes; but you have not treated very kindly the little woman he was so fond of.”
“What! the mercer’s wife of the Rue des Fossoyeurs? Has he not already forgotten she ever existed? Fine vengeance that, ’pon my word!”
A cold sweat broke from D’Artagnan’s brow. This woman was a monster!
He resumed his listening, but unfortunately the toilet was completed.
“That will do,” said milady. “Go into your own room, and to-morrow try again to get for me an answer to the letter I gave you.”
“For M. de Wardes?” said Kitty.
“To be sure; for M. de Wardes.”
“He is a man,” said Kitty, “who appears to be quite different from that poor M. d’Artagnan.”
“Go to bed, miss,” said milady; “I don’t like comments.”
D’Artagnan heard the door close, then the noise of two bolts by which milady fastened herself in. Kitty on her side, as softly as possible, turned the key of the lock, and then D’Artagnan opened the closet door.
“O Heavens!” said Kitty, in a low voice, “what is the matter with you? How pale you are!”
“The abominable creature!” murmured D’Artagnan.
“Silence, silence! do go!” said Kitty. “There is nothing but a thin partition between my chamber and milady’s; every word spoken in one can be heard in the other.”
“That’s just the reason I won’t go,” said D’Artagnan.
“What!” said Kitty, blushing.
“Or, at least, I will go—later.”
And he drew Kitty to him. There was no way to resist—resistance makes so much noise. Therefore Kitty yielded. This was an impulse of vengeance on milady. D’Artagnan realized the truth of the saying that vengeance is the delight of the gods. Therefore, with a little natural affection, he might have been satisfied with this new conquest; but D’Artagnan knew only ambition and pride.
However, it must be said to his praise that the first use he made of his influence over Kitty was to try to learn from her what had become of Madame Bonacieux; but the poor girl swore on the crucifix to D’Artagnan that she was entirely ignorant in regard to that, her mistress never letting her know half her secrets. Only she believed she could say she was not dead.
D’Artagnan came the next day to milady’s. As she was in a very ill humour, he suspected that the lack of an answer from M. de Wardes provoked her to be so. Kitty came in, but milady was very cross with her. She glanced at D’Artagnan, as much as to say, “See how I suffer on your account!”
Toward the end of the evening, however, the beautiful lioness became milder. She smilingly listened to D’Artagnan’s soft speeches; she even gave him her hand to kiss.
When D’Artagnan took his departure he scarcely knew what to think; but as he was a youth not easily carried away by his emotions, even while he was continuing to pay court to milady he framed a little plan.
He found Kitty at the gate, and, as on the evening before, went up to her chamber. Kitty had been severely scolded; she was charged with negligence. Milady coud not at all understand the Comte de Wardes’s silence, and she ordered Kitty to come at nine o’clock in the morning to take a third letter to him.
D’Artagnan made Kitty promise to bring him that letter on the following morning. The poor girl promised all her lover desired; she was madly in love.
Everything occurred as it had the night before. D’Artagnan concealed himself in his wardrobe, milady called, undressed, sent Kitty away, and shut the door. As before, D’Artagnan returned home at five o’clock in the morning.
At eleven o’clock he saw Kitty coming; she held in her hand a fresh note from milady. This time the poor girl did not even hesitate at giving up the note to D’Artagnan. She let him do as he pleased. She belonged, body and soul, to her handsome soldier.
D’Artagnan opened the letter, and read as follows:
“This is the third time I have written to you to tell you that I love you. Beware lest I write to you a fourth time to tell you that I detest you.
“If you repent of the manner in which you have treated me, the young girl who brings you this note will tell you how a gentleman may obtain his pardon.”
D’Artagnan coloured and grew pale several times as he read this note.
“Oh, you love her still,” said Kitty, who had not for an instant taken her eyes off the young man’s face.
“No, Kitty, you are mistaken; I do not love her, but I wish to revenge myself for her contempt of me.”
“Oh yes, I knew your vengeance! You told me!”
“What difference does it make to you, Kitty? You know I love only you.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“By the contempt I will cast on her.”
D’Artagnan took a pen and wrote,
“Madame,—Until the present moment I could not believe that you two first letters were addressed to me, so unworthy did I feel myself of such an honour; besides, I was so seriously indisposed that I should, in any case, have hesitated to reply to them.
“But now I must believe in the excess of your kindness, since not only your letter but your servant assures me that I have the good fortune to be loved by you.
“She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a gentleman may obtain his pardon. I will come and ask mine at eleven o’clock this evening.
“To delay it a single day would be, in my eyes, now to commit a fresh offence.
“He whom you have rendered the happiest of men,
“Comte de Wardes.
”D’Artagnan’s plan was very simple. By Kitty’s chamber he could gain her mistress’s. He would take advantage of the first moment of surprise, shame, and terror to triumph over her.
The campaign was to open in a week, and he would be compelled to leave Paris. D’Artagnan had no time for a prolonged love-making.
“There!” said the young man, handing Kitty the letter sealed and addressed; “give this note to milady. It is the Comte de Wardes’s reply.”
Poor Kitty turned deathly pale: she suspected what the letter contained.
“But what does your note say?”
“Milady will tell you.”
“Ah, you do not love me,” cried Kitty, “and I am very wretched.”
To such a reproach there is one answer that always deceives women. D’Artagnan replied in a way that left Kitty entirely convinced. Yet she wept a great deal before she could make up her mind to give the letter to milady. But at last she decided to do so, and that was all that D’Artagnan wanted.
Besides, he promised her that he would leave her mistress early that evening, and on coming out of the parlour would go up to Kitty’s room. This promise completely consoled poor Kitty.
Chapter 29 - Which Treats of the Outfit of Aramis and Porthos
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.
Chapter 30 - At Night all Cats are Grey
The evening so impatiently awaited by D’Artagnan at length arrived. D’Artagnan, as usual, presented himself about nine o’clock at milady’s house. He found her in a charming humour. Never had she received him so kindly. Our Gascon saw at the first glance that his note had been delivered and was doing its work.
Kitty entered, bringing some sherbet. Her mistress was very pleasant to her, and greeted her with her most gracious smile.
At ten o’clock milady began to appear uneasy. D’Artagnan understood what it meant. She looked at the clock, got up, sat down again, and smiled at D’Artagnan as much as to say, “You are doubtless very likeable, but you would be charming if you would go away.”
D’Artagnan rose and took his hat; milady gave him her hand to kiss. The young man felt that she pressed his hand, and he understood that she did so, not out of coquetry, but from a feeling of gratitude at his departure.
This time Kitty was not waiting for him, either in the anteroom, or in the corridor, or under the gateway. D’Artagnan was obliged alone to find the staircase and the little chamber. Kitty was sitting down, her head hidden in her hands, and was weeping.
She heard D’Artagnan enter, but did not raise her head at all. The young man went up to her, took her hands; then she burst out into sobs.
As D’Artagnan had supposed, milady, on receiving the letter, had, in the delirium of her joy, told her maid everything. Then, as a reward for the manner in which she had this time done her errand, she had given Kitty a purse.
On returning to her room Kitty had flung the purse into a corner, where it was lying wide open, disgorging three or four gold coins on the carpet.
The poor girl lifted her head at D’Artagnan’s caresses. He was terrified at the change in her countenance. She clasped her hands supplicatingly, but without venturing to speak a word.
