The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [170]
His forthcoming meeting with Milady filled our young Gascon’s mind. Recalling the strange circumstances in which she had entered his life, he was convinced that she must be some creature of the Cardinal’s, yet he felt invincibly drawn to her by some incomprehensible fascination. He had certain qualms, too. Would Milady recognize him as the man she had encountered at Meung and at Dover? Again, the fact that she must know him to be a friend of Monsieur de Tréville’s and therefore devoted body and soul to the King, would necessarily deprive him of some part of his present advantages; known by Milady and knowing her as he did, he would be dealing with her on an equal footing. As for her incipient affair with the Comte de Vardes, our presumptuous Gascon gave it but scant thought, even though that dandy was young, handsome, rich and high in the Cardinal’s favor. After all, a man of twenty and born in Tarbes does not worry over such trifles.
First, D’Artagnan went home to dress in the most flamboyant fashion his wardrobe permitted, then he called on Athos and as usual told his friend everything. Athos listened to his plans; then, shaking his head, advised him somewhat bitterly to be circumspect.
“What?” Athos protested. “You have just lost a woman whom you considered good, charming, perfect, and here you go running headlong after another.”
D’Artagnan felt the truth in the reproach.
“I loved Madame Bonacieux with my heart,” he explained. “I love Milady with my head. If I am so eager to be introduced to her, it is mainly because I want to ascertain what part she plays at Court.”
“What part she plays at Court? Heaven help us, from all you have told me, that should be pretty obvious. She is some emissary of the Cardinal’s, a woman who will surely draw you into some trap. Look out, my boy; all this might well cost you your head!”
“The devil! My dear Athos, apparently you always see the dark side of things!”
“My dear fellow, I mistrust women, especially blondes. Why not? I have learned that lesson to my cost. You did tell me Milady was a blonde, didn’t you?”
“She has the most beautiful fair hair imaginable,” D’Artagnan exclaimed lyrically.
“My poor D’Artagnan, God help you.”
“No, no, Athos, I simply want to find out what’s what. That done, I shall withdraw.”
“Very well,” Athos said phlegmatically. “Go ahead and find out what’s what!”
Lord Winter arrived punctually and Athos, warned in good time, disappeared into the adjoining room. As it was close to eight o’clock, the two set off on their errand. A handsomely appointed carriage waited below and two mettlesome, spanking horses brought them to the Place Royale in a few minutes.
Lady Clark received D’Artagnan ceremoniously. Her mansion was remarkably sumptuous, and although most English residents had left or were about to leave France because of the war, she had quite recently expended considerable money on her house. Obviously then the general measure which drove the English home did not apply to her.
Presenting D’Artagnan, Lord Winter said:
“Sister, here is a young gentleman who held my life in his hands. I insulted him and I am an Englishman, which gave him two reasons for abominating me. Nevertheless, he refused to take advantage of his victory. Pray thank him, Madame, if you have any affection for me.”
Milady frowned slightly, a faint shadow spun cloudlike over her radiant brow and a most peculiar smile appeared on her lips. Observing these three reactions, D’Artagnan felt something like a shudder pass through him. The brother saw nothing of this for he was busy playing with Milady’s favorite monkey, which was tugging at his doublet.
“Pray let me welcome you, Monsieur,” said Milady in a voice whose singular gentleness belied the symptoms of ill-humor D’Artagnan had just observed. “Today you have won an eternal claim to my gratitude.”
The Englishman then turned toward them and related the duel in full detail; Milady listened with the greatest attention,