The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [177]
“If Monsieur le Chevalier will follow me?” Kitty suggested shyly.
“Where you please, my dear child!”
“Then come!”
So Kitty, who had not released his hand, led him up a little dark winding staircase and, after ascending about fifteen steps, opened a door.
“Come in here, Monsieur le Chevalier; we shall be alone here and we can talk at our ease.”
“And whose room is this, my dear child?”
“This is my room, Monsieur le Chevalier; it communicates with my mistress’s by that door. But you need not fear. She will not hear what we are saying; she never goes to bed before midnight.”
D’Artagnan gazed around him. The little room was charming in its neatness and taste; but in spite of himself he stared at the door which Kitty said led to Milady’s chamber. Reading his secret thoughts, Kitty heaved a deep sigh.
“So you do love my mistress very dearly, Monsieur le Chevalier?” she asked.
“Ay, more than I can say, Kitty. I am mad about her!”
Kitty breathed another sigh.
“Alas, Monsieur,” she said, “that is a great pity!”
“Why in the devil’s name is that a pity?”
“Because my mistress does not love Monsieur at all.”
“What!” D’Artagnan gasped. Then “Did she charge you to tell me so?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Monsieur! Out of my regard for you, I resolved to tell you myself.”
“I am much obliged to you, my dear Kitty—for your intention only, because you must confess that your information is scarcely agreeable.”
“In other words you think I am wrong?”
“It is always difficult to believe such things, my dear child, if only because of pride.”
“Then you don’t believe me?”
“I confess that until you deign to give me some proof of what you advance, I—”
“What do you think of this?” Kitty demanded, drawing a little note from her bosom.
“Is it for me?” D’Artagnan asked, snatching the letter.
“No, it is for someone else.”
“For someone else?”
“Yes.”
“His name, tell me his name!” cried D’Artagnan.
“Read the address.”
D’Artagnan, obeying, read: For Monsieur le Comte de Vardes.
The memory of the scene at Saint-Germain flashed across the mind of the presumptuous Gascon. In a move as quick as thought he tore open the letter, in spite of Kitty’s warning cry as she realized too late what he had done.
“Good Lord, Monsieur le Chevalier, what are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” said D’Artagnan. “Why, nothing, nothing at all.” And he read:
You have not answered my first note. Are you indisposed or have you forgotten the glances you favored me with at the ball of Madame de Guise? Monsieur le Comte, I offer you an opportunity now; do not let it slip through your fingers.
D’Artagnan turned pale, as he felt all the pangs of what he believed to be his wounded love but what of course was merely self-love.
“Poor dear Monsieur D’Artagnan!” Kitty whispered in a voice full of compassion, pressing the young man’s hand anew.
“Do you pity me, little one?”
“Ay, truly, with all my heart, for I know what it is to be in love.”
“You know what it is to be in love?” D’Artagnan echoed, looking at her attentively for the first time.
“Alas, yes!”
“Well then, instead of pitying me, you would do much better to help me to avenge myself on your mistress.”
“And what sort of vengeance would you take?”
“I want to triumph over her and supplant my rival.”
“I shall never help you to do that, Monsieur le Chevalier.”
“Why not?”
“For two reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“First, my mistress will never love you.”
“How do you know that.”
“You have cut her to the heart!”
“I? How on earth can I have offended her, I who ever since I met her have groveled at her feet like a slave! Speak, I beg you!”
“I will never confess that to any man save him who can read into the very depths of my soul.”
Once again D’Artagnan examined Kitty curiously, noting her youthful freshness and beauty for which many a duchess would have given away her coronet.
“Kitty,” he told her, “I am the man to read to the depths of your soul, whenever you like. Don’t make any mistake about that.” And he gave her a kiss at which the poor girl turned red as a cherry.
“No, no!” Kitty objected.