The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [247]
“You must see by my uniform, Madame, that I am an officer in the Royal Navy.”
“But is it usual for officers in the Royal Navy to place themselves at the service of their women compatriots when they land at an English port, and to carry their gallantry so far as to conduct them ashore?”
“Yes, Madame, it is usual, not through gallantry but for security reasons. In time of war, foreigners are conducted to particular hostelries in order that they may remain under government surveillance until complete information be obtained about them.”
Though the officer spoke with a most scrupulous politeness and the most perfect calm, his words failed to convince Milady.
“But I am not a foreigner, Sir,” she protested in the purest English accent ever heard between Portsmouth and Manchester. “My name is Lady Clark and this measure—”
“This measure is general, Madame, and you will seek in vain to evade it.”
“Very well, Sir, I will follow you.”
Accepting the officer’s hand, she started down the ladder, at the foot of which the rowboat waited. The officer followed her. A large cloak had been spread in the stern of the rowboat; the officer bade her be seated on it and then himself sat down beside her.
“Row!” he told the sailors.
Eight oars fell at once into the sea making but a single sound and moving in but a single stroke as the boat seemed to fly over the face of the waters. Within five minutes they reached land; the officer leaped to the pier and offered his hand to Milady. A carriage awaited them on the quay.
“Is this carriage for us?” Milady asked.
“Yes, Madame.”
“Then the hostelry is quite far?”
“At the other end of town.”
“Very well, let us go,” said Milady, entering the carriage resolutely.
The officer saw that the baggage was securely fastened behind the carriage, then sat down beside Milady and shut the door. Immediately, without any order or any indication of his destination, the coachman set off at a gallop through the streets.
So strange a reception naturally gave Milady ample food for thought. Seeing that the young officer was not at all disposed for conversation, she leaned back in her corner of the carriage and reviewed all the surmises which passed successively through her mind.
They drove on for a quarter of an hour. Surprised at the length of the journey, Milady leaned forward to try to ascertain where they were going. There were no houses in sight now; only great trees appeared in the darkness like gaunt phantoms chasing one another across the night. Milady shuddered.
“But we are no longer in the city, sir,” she protested.
The young officer remained silent.
“I warn you, sir, I shall go no farther unless you tell me where you are taking me.”
Her threat elicited no information.
“Oh, this is too much!” she cried. “Help! help!”
But no voice replied as the carriage bowled forward. The officer at her right sat motionless as a statue. Milady cast him one of her characteristically frightening and usually very effective glances; anger made her eyes flash in the darkness. But the young man preserved his immobility. Milady next tried to open the door and jump out.
“Take care, Madame,” the young man said coolly, “you will kill yourself if you jump.”
She sat down again fuming with rage. The officer leaned forward, looking at her in his turn; he appeared surprised that a face so beautiful a few moments before could suddenly become so distorted and almost hideous in its impotent rage. Milady, who was nothing if not artful, at once realized that she was injuring herself by thus betraying her true nature. Collecting herself, she composed her features, asked in a quavering voice:
“In the name of Heaven, sir, pray tell me if it is to you, to your government or to an enemy that I must attribute the violence done me?”
“No one is doing you violence, Madame. What is happening to you is the result of a very simple measure, which we are forced to adopt with all who land in England.”
“Then you do not know me, sir?”
“This is the first time I have had the honor of seeing you.”
“And on your