The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [178]
“Does that prevent you from telling me your second reason?”
“My second reason?” the soubrette replied, emboldened first by D’Artagnan’s kiss and further by the expression in the young man’s eyes. “My second reason is: In love, each for himself!”
Then only D’Artagnan recalled Kitty’s languishing glances . . . their frequent meetings in the antechamber, in the corridor or on the stairs . . . the way her hand managed to brush against his every time she passed him . . . and the deep sighs she could not quite stifle. . . . Absorbed by his desire to please the great lady, he had disdained the soubrette; he who hunts the eagle has no eye for the sparrow.
But this time our Gascon saw at a glance all the advantages to be derived from the love Kitty had just confessed so innocently or so boldly: he could intercept the letters addressed to the Comte de Vardes, he had a faithful intelligencer on the spot, and he could enter Kitty’s room adjacent to Milady’s whenever he cared to. Manifestly the perfidious deceiver was already scheming to sacrifice the poor girl in order to obtain Milady willy-nilly.
“Tell me, Kitty dear, would you like me to give you proof of this love you appear to doubt?”
“What love?” asked the young girl.
“The love I am ready to offer you.”
“What proof will you give?”
“Tonight . . . the hours I usually spend with your mistress . . . shall I spend them with you instead . . . ?”
“Oh, yes,” said Kitty clapping her hands. “Please, please do!”
D’Artagnan settled himself in an easy chair, then turned to the soubrette again.
“Very well then, come here, my dear,” he urged, “and I shall tell you that you are the prettiest soubrette I have ever laid eyes on.”
Which he proceeded to do so profusely and so eloquently that the poor child, who asked for nothing better than to believe him, did believe him. Yet to D’Artagnan’s vast astonishment, the comely Kitty resisted his advances resolutely.
Time passes quickly, especially when it is devoted to offensive and defensive operations. Suddenly midnight sounded and almost at the same time Milady’s bell rang in the adjoining apartment.
“Heavens!” Kitty cried in alarm. “My mistress is calling me! Go, my lover, please go at once!”
D’Artagnan rose and took his hat as if he intended to obey; but instead of opening the door leading to the staircase, he whisked open the door of a great closet and buried himself among Milady’s robes and dressing-gowns.
“What are you doing?” Kitty gasped.
D’Artagnan, who had secured the key, locked himself in the closet from the inside without deigning to reply.
“Well,” Milady called sharply, “are you asleep? Or will you answer the bell when I ring?”
D’Artagnan heard the door open violently.
“Here I am, Milady, here I am,” cried Kitty, rushing forward to meet her mistress.
Together the two women returned to Milady’s bedroom; and, as the communicating door remained ajar, D’Artagnan could hear Milady scolding her maid for some time. Presently she calmed down and the conversation turned on him while Kitty was undressing her mistress.
“Well! I have not seen our Gascon tonight,” Milady remarked.
“What, Madame, he hasn’t come? Can he possibly be fickle before he has been made happy?”
“Oh, no! Doubtless he was detained by Monsieur de Tréville or by Monsieur des Essarts. I know what I am doing, Kitty, and I hold this gallant in the palm of my hand.”
“What will you do with him, Madame?”
“Do with him?” Milady repeated emphatically. “Rest easy, Kitty, that man and I have to settle something he does not even dream of. Why, he almost ruined my credit with His Eminence. Oh, but I will be revenged!”
“I thought Madame loved him?”
“I love him? I detest him! A ninny who held Lord Winter’s life in his hands and did not kill him! I lost an income of three hundred thousand livres by it!”
She went on to explain how her son was his uncle’s sole heir and how, until his majority, she would have had the enjoyment of his fortune. D’Artagnan shuddered to the marrow of his bones as he