The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [196]
D’Artagnan donned the robe so hastily and was still so agitated that he mistook one sleeve for the other.
“Well?” Athos said inquiringly.
“Well,” D’Artagnan replied, bending close to the other’s ear and speaking in a whisper, “Milady is branded. She bears a fleur-de-lis upon her shoulder.”
“Ah!” groaned the musketeer as though he had been shot through the heart.
“Tell me, Athos,” D’Artagnan went on, “are you sure the other woman is dead?”
“The other woman?” Athos mumbled so low that D’Artagnan barely heard him.
“Yes, the woman you told me about one day at Amiens.”
Athos groaned again and buried his head in his hands.
“This woman is twenty-six or twenty-eight,” D’Artagnan volunteered.
“Blonde, is she not?”
“Yes.”
“Light blue eyes of a strange brilliancy with very black eyelids and eyebrows.”
“Yes.”
“Tall? Slender? Shapely? She has lost a tooth, next to the eyetooth on the left?”
“Exactly!”
“The fleur-de-lis is small, russet in color, somewhat faded by the application of poultices?”
“The brand is faint, yes, Athos.”
“But you said she was English.”
“They call her Milady, but she might well be French. After all, Lord Winter is only her brother-in-law.”
“I must see her, D’Artagnan.”
“Beware, Athos, beware; you do not really know her. Remember, you tried to kill her. She is the sort of woman to return the compliment and to succeed where you failed.”
Athos objected that one word from Milady would suffice to condemn her, to which D’Artagnan replied that Athos had never seen Milady in a fury . . . that Milady was a maniac, a tigress, a panther . . . that he had witnessed her rages . . . that he had incontrovertible evidence of her cold-blooded threats and plans for murder. . . .
“I am very much afraid,” he concluded, “that I have invited a terrible vengeance upon both of us!”
“Right you are,” said Athos, “with her after me, my life wouldn’t be worth a counterfeit soul. Luckily we leave Paris the day after tomorrow, probably for La Rochelle, and once gone—”
“If she recognizes you,” D’Artagnan said darkly, “that woman will follow you to the ends of the earth. Let her vent her vengeance on me alone!”
“What matter if she should kill me, my friend? Do you imagine I set much store by life?”
“Athos, there is something horribly mysterious under all this. She is one of the Cardinal’s spies, I am certain.”
Athos advised his friend to take great care if such were the case. It was possible that the Cardinal might admire D’Artagnan for his brilliant conduct in the London affair even though that affair balked His Eminence’s plans. If not, then surely the Cardinal must detest D’Artagnan with all his being. However, all in all, the Cardinal could not accuse D’Artagnan openly. Yet as hatred must find expression, particularly a Cardinal’s hatred, D’Artagnan would do well to be extremely vigilant. If he went out, he should never go out alone: when he ate, he should use every precaution against poison. In short he must mistrust everything, even his own shadow.
“As you said, Athos, fortunately all this will be necessary for only thirty-six hours or so,” D’Artagnan commented. “Once with the army, I hope we will have only men to fear.”
“Meanwhile I shall renounce my vow of seclusion,” Athos declared. “I shall go with you wherever you go. You must now return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs; I shall accompany you.”
“I live quite near here, I know, Athos!” D’Artagnan surveyed himself in the mirror. “But I can’t very well go like this.”
“True!”
Athos rang, unbolted the door, and admitted Grimaud. In sign language he ordered him to go to D’Artagnan’s to fetch some clothes: Grimaud, having replied in the same medium that he understood perfectly, departed in silence.
“All this is not helping you gather your campaign outfit,” Athos remarked. “Unless I err, you have left your clothes at Milady’s. I doubt very much that she will be courteous enough to return them to you. Fortunately you have the sapphire.”
“The sapphire is yours, Athos. You told me it was a family heirloom.”
“Yes, my grandfather gave two