The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [189]
My brother-in-law and I expected you yesterday and the day before but in vain.
Will it be the same this evening?
Your very grateful
Lady Clark
“How very simple!” D’Artagnan commented. “Yes, Kitty, I was expecting that letter. My credit rises as that of the Comte de Vardes falls.”
“Will you go?” Kitty asked.
“Listen to me, my dear girl,” said the Gascon seeking to justify himself in his own eyes for breaking his promise to Athos, “you can understand how impolite it would be not to accept so positive an invitation. If I did not go back, Milady would not understand why I had interrupted my visits. She might suspect something. And who shall say how far a woman of her stamp would go to be revenged?”
“Ah, dear God!” cried Kitty. “You know how to present things in such a way that you are always in the right. You are going to pay court to her again and if you succeed this time in your own name and with your own face, it will be much worse than before.”
Instinctively the unhappy girl guessed one part of what was about to happen. D’Artagnan reassured her as best he could, promising her that he would remain adamant before Milady’s seductions. He bade her tell her mistress that he was supremely grateful for her kindnesses and that he would be obedient to her orders. (He did not dare write for fear of being unable to disguise his handwriting sufficiently to such experienced eyes as Milady’s.)
As nine o’clock struck, D’Artagnan was at the Place Royale. The servants waiting in the antechamber had obviously been warned, for as soon as he appeared, before even he had asked if Milady could receive him, one of them ran to announce him.
“Show the Chevalier in,” said Milady in a tone quick and shrill enough for D’Artagnan to hear it in the antechamber. As he was ushered in: “I am at home to nobody,” Milady told the lackey. “You understand? To nobody.”
The lackey bowed and retired. D’Artagnan cast a quizzical glance at his hostess. She was pale and looked weary; her eyes especially were worn, either from tears or lack of sleep. The number of lights had been purposely diminished but the young woman could not conceal traces of the fever which had wracked her for two days. D’Artagnan advanced with his usual gallantry, at which she made an extraordinary effort to receive him. But never did a more distraught countenance give the lie to a more amiable smile. To D’Artagnan’s questions concerning her health:
“I feel poorly,” she replied, “very poorly.”
“Then I am surely intruding,” he said. “No doubt you are in need of rest and I will excuse myself.”
“No, no!” she protested. “On the contrary, Monsieur d’Artagnan, do stay. Your agreeable company will divert me.”
Observing that she had never been so gracious, D’Artagnan determined to be very much on guard. Indeed Milady assumed her most winning air possible and conversed with utmost brilliancy. At the same time, the fever which had for a moment abated, now returned to give lustre to her eyes, color to her cheeks, and a vermilion glow to her lips. Here once again was the Circe who had woven the spell of her enchantments about D’Artagnan’s heart. He had believed that his love for her was dead; it was only dormant and now it awoke within him to sway him with all its passionate ardor. Milady smiled and D’Artagnan was prepared to demand himself for that smile. For a moment he experienced a sort of remorse.
Gradually, Milady became more communicative. She asked D’Artagnan if he had a mistress.
“Alas!” he sighed with the most sentimental air he could summon. “How can you be so cruel as to put such a question to me—to me who from the moment I saw you have breathed and have sighed solely through you and for you?”
“Then you love me?”
“Need I tell you so? Have you not noticed it?”
“Perhaps, who shall tell? But as you know, the prouder a woman’s heart is, the more difficult it is to capture.”
“Pooh! I am not one to fear difficulties!” D’Artagnan affirmed. “Nothing frightens me save impossibilities.