The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [300]
Madame Bonacieux saw in the other’s eyes only pity and sympathy. Indeed it would have called for much experience to read in the brilliance of Milady’s glance and in the purity of her expression the hatred and ferocity that possessed her.
“You know what I have suffered,” the novice said, “and you know how unhappy he has been! But to suffer for his sake is to be happy beyond all telling.”
“Quite so!” Milady replied mechanically, her thoughts elsewhere.
“But my troubles are over,” Madame Bonacieux continued, “my torment is at an end. Tomorrow—or perhaps this very evening—I shall see him again and the past will be no more than a bad dream.”
“Tomorrow? This evening?” The words roused Milady from her reverie as she repeated them. “What do you mean, child? Do you expect news of him?”
“I expect him . . . himself . . . in person. . . .”
“You expect D’Artagnan?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Impossible, child. D’Artagnan is at the siege of La Rochelle with the Cardinal. He cannot leave until the city has fallen.”
“You may think so, Madame. But the truth is that a noble and loyal gentleman like my D’Artagnan can accomplish miracles.”
“Perhaps. But how can he leave the front?”
“Read this, Madame,” the young woman cried in excess of pride and joy as she handed Milady a letter.
Milady recognized the handwriting of Madame de Chevreuse.
“I always suspected some secret intelligence in that quarter,” she mused. Then avidly she read the following:
My dear child:
Hold yourself in readiness. Our friend (and of course you know whom I mean) will be seeing you soon. His sole purpose in coming is to release you from the imprisonment to which you had to be committed for your own security. So make ready to leave the convent and never despair of us.
Our charming Gascon has just proved himself to be as brave and faithful as ever. Tell him that certain parties are very grateful to him for the warning he has given them.
“Well, the letter is clear enough,” Milady commented. “Do you happen to know what D’Artagnan’s warning referred to?”
“No, Madame, but I can guess. I suppose he warned the Queen against some fresh machination of the Cardinal’s.”
“Yes, that must be it!” Milady returned the letter to Madame Bonacieux. “Yes, certainly.” She bowed her head pensively over her bosom. Suddenly the echo of a horse’s hoofs sent Madame Bonacieux darting to the window.
“It is probably D’Artagnan!” she cried, wild with joy.
For once Milady was at a loss. So many things were happening to her with such startling suddenness that she could but lie back in bed, wide-eyed.
“You mean D’Artagnan . . . ? D’Artagnan is coming here . . . ?
Now . . . ?”
“Alas, no!” Madame Bonacieux peered through the window. “It is not D’Artagnan!” She sighed. “The horseman is stopping at the gate.” A pause. “Now he is ringing.”
Milady sprang out of bed.
“You are quite sure it is not D’Artagnan?” she asked.
“I am certain—”
“Are you sure you can really see—?”
“I could recognize my D’Artagnan by the plume in his hat, the tip of his cloak and the sword under it—”
Milady began to dress.
“Where is this man now?” she asked.
“He is coming in here.”
“He has come either for you or for me.”
“Oh, Madame, how nervous you are. Do take things calmly.”
“Yes, I am nervous, I admit. I have not your confidence. And I am desperately afraid of the Cardinal.”
“Hush, Madame, someone is coming!”
The door swung open and the Mother Superior appeared on the doorsill.
“Did you come from Boulogne?” she asked Milady.
“Yes, I did, Reverend Mother.” Milady sought to regain her calm. “Who wants me?”
“A gentleman who refuses to give his name. He told me to say he comes from the Cardinal.”
“He wants to speak to me?”
“He wants to speak to a lady who arrived from Boulogne.”
“Then let him come in, if you please, Madame.”
“Ah, God, can it be bad news?” Madame Bonacieux groaned. “Perhaps—”
“I fear it is very bad news.”
“I will leave you with this stranger, Madame. But the moment he goes, I will