IN WHICH THE EQUIPMENT OF ARAMIS AND PORTHOS IS TREATED OF

Since the four friends had been each in search of his

equipments, there had been no fixed meeting between them.

They dined apart from one another, wherever they might

happen to be, or rather where they could. Duty likewise on

its part took a portion of that precious time which was

gliding away so rapidly--only they had agreed to meet once a

week, about one o`clock, at the residence of Athos, seeing

that he, in agreement with the vow he had formed, did not

pass over the threshold of his door.

This day of reunion was the same day as that on which Kitty

came to find D`Artagnan. Soon as Kitty left him, D`Artagnan

directed his steps toward the Rue Ferou.

He found Athos and Aramis philosophizing. Aramis had some

slight inclination to resume the cassock. Athos, according

to his system, neither encouraged nor dissuaded him. Athos

believed that everyone should be left to his own free will.

He never gave advice but when it was asked, and even then he

required to be asked twice.

"People, in general," he said, "only ask advice not to

follow it; or if they do follow it, it is for the sake of

having someone to blame for having given it."

Porthos arrived a minute after D`Artagnan. The four friends

were reunited.

The four countenances expressed four different feelings:

that of Porthos, tranquillity; that of D`Artagnan, hope;

that of Aramis, uneasiness; that of Athos, carelessness.

At the end of a moment`s conversation, in which Porthos

hinted that a lady of elevated rank had condescended to

relieve him from his embarrassment, Mousqueton entered. He

came to request his master to return to his lodgings, where

his presence was urgent, as he piteously said.

"Is it my equipment?"

"Yes and no," replied Mousqueton.

"Well, but can`t you speak?"

"Come, monsieur."

Porthos rose, saluted his friends, and followed Mousqueton.

An instant after, Bazin made his appearance at the door.

"What do you want with me, my friend?" said Aramis, with

that mildness of language which was observable in him every

time that his ideas were directed toward the Church.

"A man wishes to see Monsieur at home," replied Bazin.

"A man! What man?"

"A mendicant."

"Give him alms, Bazin, and bid him pray for a poor sinner."

"This mendicant insists upon speaking to you, and pretends

that you will be very glad to see him."

"Has he sent no particular message for me?"

"Yes. If Monsieur 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

rising also, he went off at a quick pace. There remained

Athos and D`Artagnan.

"I believe these fellows have managed their business. What

do you think, D`Artagnan?" said Athos.

"I know that Porthos was in a fair way," replied D`Artagnan;

"and as to Aramis to tell you the truth, I have never been

seriously uneasy on his account. But you, my dear Athos--

you, who so generously distributed the Englishman`s

pistoles, which were our legitimate property--what do you

mean to do?"

"I am satisfied with having killed that fellow, my boy,

seeing that it is blessed bread to kill an Englishman; but

if I had pocketed his pistoles, they would have weighed me

down like a remorse.

"Go to, my dear Athos; you have truly inconceivable ideas."

"Let it pass. What do you think of Monsieur de Treville

telling me, when he did me the honor to call upon me

yesterday, that you associated with the suspected English,

whom the cardinal protects?"

"That is to say, I visit an Englishwoman--the one I named."

"Oh, ay! the fair woman on whose account I gave you advice,

which naturally you took care not to adopt."

"I gave you my reasons."

"Yes; you look there for your outfit, I think you said."

"Not at all. I have acquired certain knowledge that that

woman was concerned in the abduction of Madame Bonacieux."

"Yes, I understand now: to find one woman, you court

another. It is the longest road, but certainly the most

amusing."

D`Artagnan was on the point of telling Athos all; but one

consideration restrained him. Athos was a gentleman,

punctilious in points of honor; and there were in the plan

which our lover had devised for Milady, he was sure, certain

things that would not obtain the assent of this Puritan. He

was therefore silent; and as Athos was the least inquisitive

of any man on earth, D`Artagnan`s confidence stopped there.

We will therefore leave the two friends, who had nothing

important to say to each other, and follow Aramis.

Upon being informed that the person who wanted to speak to

him came from Tours, we have seen with what rapidity the

young man followed, or rather went before, Bazin; he ran

without stopping from the Rue Ferou to the Rue de Vaugirard.

On entering he found a man of short stature and intelligent

eyes, but covered with rags.

"You have asked for me?" said the Musketeer.

"I wish to speak with Monsieur Aramis. Is that your name,

monsieur?"

"My very own. You have brought me something?"

"Yes, if you show me a certain embroidered handkerchief."

"Here it is," said Aramis, taking a small key from his

breast and opening a little ebony box inlaid with mother of

pearl, "here it is. Look."

"That is right," replied the mendicant; "dismiss your lackey."

In fact, Bazin, curious to know what the mendicant could

want with his master, kept pace with him as well as he

could, and arrived almost at the same time he did; but his

quickness was not of much use to him. At the hint from the

mendicant his master made him a sign to retire, and he was

obliged to obey.

Bazin gone, 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 vest, badly held together by a

leather strap, he began to rip the upper part of his

doublet, from which he drew a letter.

Aramis uttered a cry of joy at the sight of the seal, kissed

the superscription with an almost religious respect, and

opened the epistle, which contained what follows:

"My Friend, it is the will of fate 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 that which the bearer brings

you; make the campaign like a handsome true gentleman, and

think of me, who kisses tenderly your black eyes.

"Adieu; or rather, AU REVOIR."

The mendicant continued to rip his garments; and drew from

amid his rags a hundred and fifty Spanish double pistoles,

which he laid down on the table; then he opened the door,

bowed, and went out before the young man, stupefied by his

letter, had ventured to address a word to him.

Aramis then reperused the letter, and perceived a

postscript:

P.S. You may behave politely to the bearer, who is a count

and a grandee of Spain!

"Golden dreams!" cried Aramis. "Oh, beautiful life! Yes, we

are young; yes, we shall yet have happy days! My love, my

blood, my life! all, all, all, are thine, my adored

mistress!"

And he kissed the letter with passion, without even

vouchsafing a look at the gold which sparkled on the table.

Bazin scratched at the door, and as Aramis had no longer any

reason to exclude him, he bade him come in.

Bazin was stupefied at the sight of the gold, and forgot

that he came to announce D`Artagnan, who, curious to know

who the mendicant could be, came to Aramis on leaving Athos.

Now, as D`Artagnan used no ceremony with Aramis, seeing 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, I beg you will

make my compliments to the gardener who gathers them."

"You are mistaken, friend D`Artagnan," said Aramis, always

on his guard; "this is from my publisher, who has just sent

me the price of that poem in one-syllable verse which I

began yonder."

"Ah, indeed," said D`Artagnan. "Well, your publisher is

very generous, my dear Aramis, that`s all I can say."

"How, monsieur?" cried Bazin, "a poem sell so dear as that!

It is incredible! Oh, monsieur, you can write as much as you

like; you may become equal to Monsieur de Voiture and

Monsieur de Benserade. I like that. A poet is as good as

an abbe. Ah! Monsieur Aramis, become a poet, I beg of you."

"Bazin, my friend," said Aramis, "I believe you meddle with

my conversation."

Bazin perceived he was wrong; he bowed and went out.

"Ah!" said D`Artagnan with a smile, "you sell your

productions at their weight in gold. You are very

fortunate, my friend; but take care or you will lose that

letter which is peeping from your doublet, and which also

comes, no doubt, from your publisher."

Aramis blushed to the eyes, crammed in the letter, and

re-buttoned his doublet.

"My dear D`Artagnan," said he, "if you please, we will join

our friends; as I am rich, we will today begin to dine

together again, expecting that you will be rich in your

turn."

"My faith!" said D`Artagnan, with great pleasure. "It is

long since we have had a good dinner; and I, for my part,

have a somewhat hazardous expedition for this evening, and

shall not be sorry, I confess, to fortify myself with a few

glasses of good old Burgundy."

"Agreed, as to the old Burgundy; I have no objection to

that," said Aramis, from whom the letter and the gold had

removed, as by magic, his ideas of conversion.

And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket

to answer the needs of the moment, he placed the others in

the ebony box, inlaid with mother of pearl, in which was the

famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman.

The two friends repaired to Athos`s, and he, faithful to his

vow of not going out, took upon him to order dinner to be

brought to them. As he was perfectly acquainted with the

details of gastronomy, D`Artagnan and Aramis made no

objection to abandoning this important care to him.

They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac

met Mousqueton, who, with a most pitiable air, was driving

before him a mule and a horse.

D`Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite

free from joy.

"Ah, my yellow horse," cried he. "Aramis, look at that

horse!"

"Oh, the frightful brute!" said Aramis.

"Ah, my dear," replied D`Artagnan, "upon that very horse I

came to Paris."

"What, does Monsieur know this horse?" said Mousqueton.

"It is of an original color," said Aramis; "I never saw one

with such a hide in my life."

"I can well believe it," replied D`Artagnan, "and that was

why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his

hide, for, CERTESf, the carcass is not worth eighteen livres.

But bow did this horse come into your bands, Mousqueton?"

"Pray," said the lackey, "say nothing about it, monsieur; it

is a frightful trick of the husband of our duchess!"

"How is that, Mousqueton?"

"Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a

lady of quality, the Duchesse de--but, your pardon; my master

has commanded me to be discreet. She had forced us to

accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish GENET and an

Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The

husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the

two magnificent beasts which were being sent to us, and

substituted these horrible animals."

"Which you are taking back to him?" said D`Artagnan.

"Exactly!" replied Mousqueton. "You may well believe that we

will not accept such steeds as these in exchange for those

which had been promised to us."

"No, PARDIEU; though I should like to have seen Porthos on

my yellow horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked

when I arrived in Paris. But don`t let us hinder you,

Mousqueton; go and perform your master`s orders. Is he at

home?"

"Yes, monsieur," said Mousqueton, "but in a very ill humor.

Get up!"

He continued his way toward the Quai des Grands Augustins,

while the two friends went to ring at the bell of the

unfortunate Porthos. He, having seen them crossing the

yard, took care not to answer, and they rang in vain.

Meanwhile Mousqueton continued on his way, and crossing the

Pont Neuf, still driving the two sorry animals before him,

he reached the Rue aux Ours. Arrived there, he fastened,

according to the orders of his master, both horse and mule

to the knocker of the procurator`s door; then, without

taking any thought for their future, he returned to Porthos,

and told him that his commission was completed.

In a short time the two unfortunate beasts, who had not

eaten anything since the morning, made such a noise in

raising and letting fall the knocker that the procurator

ordered his errand boy to go and inquire in the neighborhood

to whom this horse and mule belonged.

Mme. Coquenard recognized her present, and could not at

first comprehend this restitution; but the visit of Porthos

soon enlightened her. The anger which fired the eyes of the

Musketeer, in spite of his efforts to suppress it, terrified

his sensitive inamorata. In fact, Mousqueton had not

concealed from his master that he had met D`Artagnan and

Aramis, and that D`Artagnan in the yellow horse had

recognized the Bearnese pony upon which he had come to

Paris, and which he had sold for three crowns.

Porthos went away after having appointed a meeting with the

procurator`s wife in the cloister of St. Magloire. The

procurator, seeing he was going, invited him to dinner--an

invitation which the Musketeer refused with a majestic air.

Mme. Coquenard repaired trembling to the cloister of St.

Magloire, for she guessed the reproaches that awaited her

there; but she was fascinated by the lofty airs of Porthos.

All that which a man wounded in his self-love could let fall

in the shape of imprecations and reproaches upon the head of

a woman Porthos let fall upon the bowed head of the

procurator`s wife.

"Alas," said she, "I did all for the best! One of our

clients is a horsedealer; he owes money to the office, and

is backward in his pay. I took the mule and the horse for

what he owed us; he assured me that they were two noble

steeds."

"Well, madame," said Porthos, "if he owed you more than five

crowns, your horsedealer is a thief."

"There is no harm in trying to buy things cheap, Monsieur

Porthos," said the procurator`s wife, seeking to excuse

herself.

"No, madame; but they who so assiduously try to buy things

cheap ought to permit others to seek more generous friends."

And Porthos, turning on his heel, made a step to retire.

"Monsieur Porthos! Monsieur Porthos!" cried the

procurator`s wife. "I have been wrong; I see it. I ought

not to have driven a bargain when it was to equip a cavalier

like you."

Porthos, without reply, retreated a second step. The

procurator`s wife fancied she saw him in a brilliant cloud,

all surrounded by duchesses and marchionesses, who cast bags

of money at his feet.

"Stop, in the name of heaven, Monsieur Porthos!" cried she.

"Stop, and let us talk."

"Talking with you brings me misfortune," said Porthos.

"But, tell me, what do you ask?"

"Nothing; for that amounts to the same thing as if I asked

you for something."

The procurator`s wife hung upon the arm of Porthos, and in

the violence of her grief she cried out, "Monsieur Porthos,

I am ignorant of all such matters! How should I know what a

horse is? How should I know what horse furniture is?"

"You should have left it to me, then, madame, who know what

they are; but you wished to be frugal, and consequently to

lend at usury."

"It was wrong, Monsieur Porthos; but I will repair that

wrong, upon my word of honor."

"How so?" asked the Musketeer.

"Listen. This evening M. Coquenard is going to the house of

the Due de Chaulnes, who has sent for him. It is for a

consultation, which will last three hours at least. Come!

We shall be alone, and can make up our accounts."

"In good time. Now you talk, my dear."

"You pardon me?"

"We shall see," said Porthos, majestically; and the two

separated saying, "Till this evening."

"The devil!" thought Porthos, as he walked away, "it appears

I am getting nearer to Monsieur Coquenard`s strongbox at

last."

35 A GASCON A MATCH FOR CUPID

The evening so impatiently waited for by Porthos and by

D`Artagnan at last arrived.

As was his custom, D`Artagnan presented himself at Milady`s

at about nine o`clock. He found her in a charming humor.

Never had he been so well received. Our Gascon knew, by the

first glance of his eye, that his billet had been delivered,

and that this billet had had its effect.

Kitty entered to bring some sherbet. Her mistress put on a

charming face, and smiled on her graciously; but alas! the

poor girl was so sad that she did not even notice Milady`s

condescension.

D`Artagnan looked at the two women, one after the other, and

was forced to acknowledge that in his opinion Dame Nature

had made a mistake in their formation. To the great lady

she had given a heart vile and venal; to the SOUBRETTE she

had given the heart of a duchess.

At ten o`clock Milady began to appear restless. D`Artagnan

knew what she wanted. She looked at the clock, rose,

reseated herself, smiled at D`Artagnan with an air which

said, "You are very amiable, no doubt, but you would be

charming if you would only depart."

D`Artagnan rose and took his hat; Milady gave him her hand

to kiss. The young man felt her press his hand, and

comprehended that this was a sentiment, not of coquetry, but

of gratitude because of his departure.

"She loves him devilishly," he murmured. Then he went out.

This time Kitty was nowhere waiting for him; neither in the

antechamber, nor in the corridor, nor beneath the great

door. It was necessary that D`Artagnan should find alone

the staircase and the little chamber. She heard him enter,

but she did not raise her head. The young man went to her

and took her hands; then she sobbed aloud.

As D`Artagnan had presumed, on receiving his letter, Milady

in a delirium of joy had told her servant everything; and by

way of recompense for the manner in which she had this time

executed the commission, she had given Kitty a purse.

Returning to her own room, Kitty had thrown the purse into a

corner, where it lay open, disgorging three or four gold

pieces on the carpet. The poor girl, under the caresses of

D`Artagnan, lifted her head. D`Artagnan himself was

frightened by the change in her countenance. She joined her

hands with a suppliant air, but without venturing to speak a

word. As little sensitive as was the heart of D`Artagnan,

he was touched by this mute sorrow; but he held too

tenaciously to his projects, above all to this one, to

change the program which he had laid out in advance. He did

not therefore allow her any hope that he would flinch; only

he represented his action as one of simple vengeance.

For the rest this vengeance was very easy; for Milady,

doubtless to conceal her blushes from her lover, had ordered

Kitty to extinguish all the lights in the apartment, and

even in the little chamber itself. Before daybreak M. de

Wardes must take his departure, still in obscurity.

Presently they heard Milady retire to her room. D`Artagnan

slipped into the wardrobe. Hardly was he concealed when the

little bell sounded. Kitty went to her mistress, and did

not leave the door open; but the partition was so thin that

one could hear nearly all that passed between the two women.

Milady seemed overcome with joy, and made Kitty repeat the

smallest details of the pretended interview of the soubrette

with De Wardes when he received the letter; how he had

responded; what was the expression of his face; if he seemed

very amorous. And to all these questions poor Kitty, forced

to put on a pleasant face, responded in a stifled voice

whose dolorous accent her mistress did not however remark,

solely because happiness is egotistical.

Finally, as the hour for her interview with the count

approached, Milady had everything about her darkened, and

ordered Kitty to return to her own chamber, and introduce De

Wardes whenever he presented himself.

Kitty`s detention was not long. Hardly had D`Artagnan seen,

through a crevice in his closet, that the whole apartment

was in obscurity, than he slipped out of his concealment, at

the very moment when Kitty reclosed the door of

communication.

"What is that noise?" demanded Milady.

"It is I," said D`Artagnan in a subdued voice, "I, the Comte

de Wardes."

"Oh, my God, my God!" murmured Kitty, "he has not even

waited for the hour he himself named!"

"Well," said Milady, in a trembling voice, "why do you not

enter? Count, Count," added she, "you know that I wait for

you."

At this appeal D`Artagnan drew Kitty quietly away, and

slipped into the chamber.

If rage or sorrow ever torture the heart, it is when a lover

receives under a name which is not his own protestations of

love addressed to his happy rival. D`Artagnan was in a

dolorous situation which he had not foreseen. Jealousy

gnawed his heart; and he suffered almost as much as poor

Kitty, who at that very moment was crying in the next

chamber.

"Yes, Count," said Milady, in her softest voice, and

pressing his hand in her own, "I am happy in the love which

your looks and your words have expressed to me every time we

have met. I also--I love you. Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, I

must have some pledge from you which will prove that you

think of me; and that you may not forget me, take this!" and

she slipped a ring from her finger onto D`Artagnan`s.

D`Artagnan remembered having seen this ring on the finger of

Milady; it was a magnificent sapphire, encircled with

brilliants.

The first movement of D`Artagnan was to return it, but

Milady added, "No, no! Keep that ring for love of me.

Besides, in accepting it," she added, in a voice full of

emotion, "you render me a much greater service than you

imagine."

"This woman is full of mysteries," murmured D`Artagnan to

himself. At that instant he felt himself ready to reveal

all. He even opened his mouth to tell Milady who he was,

and with what a revengeful purpose he had come; but she

added, "Poor angel, whom that monster of a Gascon barely

failed to kill."

The monster was himself.

"Oh," continued Milady, "do your wounds still make you

suffer?"

"Yes, much," said D`Artagnan, who did not well know how to

answer.

"Be tranquil," murmured Milady; "I will avenge you--and

cruelly!"

"PESTE!" said D`Artagnan to himself, "the moment for

confidences has not yet come."

It took some time for D`Artagnan to resume this little

dialogue; but then all the ideas of vengeance which he had

brought with him had completely vanished. This woman

exercised over him an unaccountable power; he hated and

adored her at the same time. He would not have believed

that two sentiments so opposite could dwell in the same

heart, and by their union constitute a passion so strange,

and as it were, diabolical.

Presently it sounded one o`clock. It was necessary to

separate. D`Artagnan at the moment of quitting Milady felt

only the liveliest regret at the parting; and as they

addressed each other in a reciprocally passionate adieu,

another interview was arranged for the following week.

Poor Kitty hoped to speak a few words to D`Artagnan when he

passed through her chamber; but Milady herself reconducted

him through the darkness, and only quit him at the

staircase.

The next morning D`Artagnan ran to find Athos. He was

engaged in an adventure so singular that he wished for

counsel. He therefore told him all.

"Your Milady," said he, "appears to be an infamous creature,

but not the less you have done wrong to deceive her. In one

fashion or another you have a terrible enemy on your hands."

While thus speaking Athos regarded with attention the

sapphire set with diamonds which had taken, on D`Artagnan`s

finger, the place of the queen`s ring, carefully kept in a

casket.

"You notice my ring?" said the Gascon, proud to display so

rich a gift in the eyes of his friends.

"Yes," said Athos, "it reminds me of a family jewel."

"It is beautiful, is it not?" said D`Artagnan.

"Yes," said Athos, "magnificent. I did not think two

sapphires of such a fine water existed. Have you traded it

for your diamond?"

"No. It is a gift from my beautiful Englishwoman, or rather

Frenchwoman--for I am convinced she was born in France,

though I have not questioned her."

"That ring comes from Milady?" cried Athos, with a voice in

which it was easy to detect strong emotion.

"Her very self; she gave it me last night. Here it is,"

replied D`Artagnan, taking it from his finger.

Athos examined it and became very pale. He tried it on his

left hand; it fit his finger as if made for it.

A shade of anger and vengeance passed across the usually

calm brow of this gentleman.

"It is impossible it can be she," said be. "How could this

ring come into the hands of Milady Clarik? And yet it is

difficult to suppose such a resemblance should exist between

two jewels."

"Do you know this ring?" said D`Artagnan.

"I thought I did," replied Athos; "but no doubt I was

mistaken." And he returned D`Artagnan the ring without,

however, ceasing to look at it.

"Pray, D`Artagnan," said Athos, after a minute, "either take

off that ring or turn the mounting inside; it recalls such

cruel recollections that I shall have no head to converse

with you. Don`t ask me for counsel; don`t tell me you are

perplexed what to do. But stop! let me look at that

sapphire again; the one I mentioned to you had one of its

faces scratched by accident."

D`Artagnan took off the ring, giving it again to Athos.

Athos started. "Look," said he, "is it not strange?" and he

pointed out to D`Artagnan the scratch he had remembered.

"But from whom did this ring come to you, Athos?"

"From my mother, who inherited it from her mother. As I

told you, it is an old family jewel."

"And you--sold it?" asked D`Artagnan, hesitatingly.

"No," replied Athos, with a singular smile. "I gave it away

in a night of love, as it has been given to you."

D`Artagnan became pensive in his turn; it appeared as if

there were abysses in Milady`s soul whose depths were dark

and unknown. He took back the ring, but put it in his

pocket and not on his finger.

"D`Artagnan," said Athos, taking his hand, "you know I love

you; if I had a son I could not love him better. Take my

advice, renounce this woman. I do not know her, but a sort

of intuition tells me she is a lost creature, and that there

is something fatal about her."

"You are right," said D`Artagnan; "I will have done with

her. I own that this woman terrifies me."

"Shall you have the courage?" said Athos.

"I shall," replied D`Artagnan, "and instantly."

"In truth, my young friend, you will act rightly," said the

gentleman, pressing the Gascon`s hand with an affection

almost paternal; "and God grant that this woman, who has

scarcely entered into your life, may not leave a terrible

trace in it!" And Athos bowed to D`Artagnan like a man who

wishes it understood that he would not be sorry to be left

alone with his thoughts.

On reaching home D`Artagnan found Kitty waiting for him. A

month of fever could not have changed her more than this one

night of sleeplessness and sorrow.

She was sent by her mistress to the false De Wardes. Her

mistress was mad with love, intoxicated with joy. She

wished to know when her lover would meet her a second night;

and poor Kitty, pale and trembling, awaited D`Artagnan`s

reply. The counsels of his friend, joined to the cries of

his own heart, made him determine, now his pride was saved

and his vengeance satisfied, not to see Milady again. As a

reply, he wrote the following letter:

Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting. Since

my convalescence I have so many affairs of this kind on my

hands that I am forced to regulate them a little. When your

turn comes, I shall have the honor to inform you of it. I

kiss your hands.

Comte de Wardes

Not a word about the sapphire. Was the Gascon determined to

keep it as a weapon against Milady, or else, let us be

frank, did he not reserve the sapphire as a last resource

for his outfit? It would be wrong to judge the actions of

one period from the point of view of another. That which

would now be considered as disgraceful to a gentleman was at

that time quite a simple and natural affair, and the younger

sons of the best families were frequently supported by their

mistresses. D`Artagnan gave the open letter to Kitty, who

at first was unable to comprehend it, but who became almost

wild with joy on reading it a second time. She could

scarcely believe in her happiness; and D`Artagnan was forced

to renew with the living voice the assurances which he had

written. And whatever might be--considering the violent

character of Milady--the danger which the poor girl incurred

in giving this billet to her mistress, she ran back to the

Place Royale as fast as her legs could carry her.

The heart of the best woman is pitiless toward the sorrows

of a rival.

Milady opened the letter with eagerness equal to Kitty`s in

bringing it; but at the first words she read she became

livid. She crushed the paper in her band, and turning with

flashing eyes upon Kitty, she cried, "What is this letter?"

"The answer to Madame`s," replied Kitty, all in a tremble.

"Impossible!" cried Milady. "It is impossible a gentleman

could have written such a letter to a woman." Then all at

once, starting, she cried, "My God! can he have--" and she

stopped. She ground her teeth; she was of the color of

ashes. She tried to go toward the window for air, but she

could only stretch forth her arms; her legs failed her, and

she sank into an armchair. Kitty, fearing she was ill,

hastened toward her and was beginning to open her dress; but

Milady started up, pushing her away. "What do you want with

me?" said she, "and why do you place your hand on me?"

"I thought that Madame was ill, and I wished to bring her

help," responded the maid, frightened at the terrible

expression which had come over her mistress`s face.

"I faint? I? I? Do you take me for half a woman? When I am

insulted I do not faint; I avenge myself!"

And she made a sign for Kitty to leave the room.

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 591