The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [180]
D’Artagnan made Kitty promise to bring him that letter the following morning; the poor girl agreed to all her lover wished, for she was mad with love.
Things passed as they had the previous night: D’Artagnan concealed himself in the closet, Milady called for Kitty, made her preparations to retire, dismissed the soubrette, and closed her door again. Again, as on the previous night, D’Artagnan did not leave for home before five o’clock in the morning.
At eleven o’clock, true to her promise, Kitty called at D’Artagnan’s apartment with the letter Milady had given her at nine. This time the poor girl did not even try to argue with D’Artagnan; she let him do as he willed, for she belonged body and soul to her handsome soldier.
D’Artagnan opened the note and read the following:
This is the third time I have written to you to tell you that I love you. Beware that I do not write to you a fourth time to tell you that I detest you.
If you repent for having acted toward me as you have, the young girl who bears this note will tell you how a man of spirit may obtain his pardon.
D’Artagnan flushed and grew pale several times as he read this note.
“Oh! you love her still!” said Kitty, who had not taken her eyes off the young man’s face for an instant.
“No, Kitty, you are mistaken, I do not love her now. But I want to avenge myself for her contempt.”
“Yes, I know the vengeance you plan; you yourself told me!”
“What do you care, Kitty? You know very well that you are my only love!”
“How can I know that?”
“By the humiliation I shall visit upon her shameless head.”
Kitty sighed. D’Artagnan took up a pen and wrote:
Madame,
Until the present moment I could not believe that your two previous letters were addressed to me, so unworthy did I seem myself of such an honor. Besides, I was so seriously indisposed that I could not have replied to them in any case.
But now I am forced to believe in your excessive graciousness, for not only your letter but your servant assures me that I have the good fortune to be favored by your affection.
She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a man of spirit may obtain his pardon. I will come to crave mine at eleven o’clock this evening. To delay it a single day would be tantamount in my eyes to committing a fresh offense.
From one whom you have rendered the happiest of men.
Comte de Vardes
This note was in the first place a forgery; it was likewise an indelicacy; it was even, according to present standards, something of an infamy; but in the seventeenth century people were less meticulous on certain subjects than they are today. Besides D’Artagnan knew from Milady’s own confession that she was guilty of treachery in far more important matters. He had therefore scant reason to hold her in esteem. And yet, despite this want of respect, he felt a mad uncontrollable passion for this woman blazing within him. It was a passion thirsting to vent its scorn but, passion or thirst, there it was.
D’Artagnan’s plan was very simple. By Kitty’s room he could gain access to that of her mistress. He would take advantage of the first moment of surprise, shame and terror to triumph over her. He might perhaps fail, certainly; but something must be left to chance. One week hence the campaign of La Rochelle would open and he would have to leave Paris. There was therefore no time for a prolonged love seige.
“There,” said the young man, sealing the letter and handing it to Kitty, “give this to Milady. It is Monsieur de Vardes’ reply.”
Poor Kitty suspected the contents of the note. She turned deathly pale.
“Listen to me, darling,” D’Artagnan told her, “you must see that all this has to end some way or other. Milady may discover that you gave her first note to my valet instead of to the Comte de Vardes’ lackey and that I opened the other two instead of the Comte. If that happens, she will turn you out into the street and hound you to death. You know she is not the sort of woman to limit her vengeance.”
“Alas!