The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [303]
“Ay, Chevalier, your memory is flawless. But there is still something.”
“What, Milady?”
“There is a very pretty wood close to the convent garden. Tell the Mother Superior to allow me to stroll there. Who can tell? I may need a back door to assure my escape.”
“You think of absolutely everything, Milady.”
“And you, Chevalier, forget—”
“I forget what—?”
“You forget to ask me whether I need money?”
“Do you? How much, Milady?”
“All the gold you have on your person.”
“I have about five hundred pistoles.”
“I have the same amount,” Milady said. “With a thousand pistoles we can face all emergencies. Turn out your pockets.”
“Here you are then.”
“Splendid! When do you leave?”
“Within an hour . . . just enough time to snatch a bite to eat . . . and while I sup, I shall send somebody to fetch me a horse . . .”
“All is settled, then. Farewell, Monsieur.”
“Good-bye, Milady.”
“Pray commend me to the Cardinal.”
“Pray commend me to Satan, Madame.”
Milady and Rochefort smiled beautifically upon each other and parted. Within an hour Rochefort was galloping along the road and within five he had passed through Arras, where, as may be recalled, D’Artagnan recognized him, and was with difficulty prevented by his comrades from pursuing him, and accordingly made for his goal with greater enthusiasm and celerity. . . .
LXIII
OF WINE AND WATER
Rochefort had scarcely departed when Madame Bonacieux returned to face Milady who was wreathed in smiles.
“Well, what you dreaded has happened, Madame. The Cardinal is sending somebody to take you away this evening or tomorrow.”
“Who told you, child?”
“The messenger himself.”
“Come sit by me,” Milady said.
“Here I am, Madame.”
“Sit close to me. Now wait—we must make sure no one is listening.”
“Why all these precautions, Madame?”
“I shall explain in good time.”
Milady rose, opened the door, looked into the corridor, closed the door again and returned to her place.
“Well, the lad has made a good job of it!” she sighed.
“Who, Madame?”
“The man who impersonated the Cardinal’s envoy.”
“So he was playing a part?”
“Yes, child.”
“Then the man I spoke to—?”
“The man you spoke to,” Milady lowered her voice confidentially, “is my brother.”
“Your brother, Madame?”
“You alone know this secret, my dear. If you reveal it to anyone in the world, I shall be lost and you too perhaps.”
“Ah, God! Madame—”
“Listen carefully. This is exactly what happened. My brother was coming to my rescue to take me away from here by force if necessary. On the way he met the Cardinal’s emissary, followed him and at a lonely stretch of the road compelled the Cardinal’s man to hand over his credentials. The fellow put up a fight, so my brother killed him in self-defense!”
“How dreadful, Madame!” the novice said shuddering.
“What else could he do?” Milady insisted.
Madame Bonacieux shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Milady went on:
“My brother decided to substitute cunning for violence. Making the papers, he presented himself as the Cardinal’s messenger and within an hour or two a carriage will come to fetch me away in the Cardinal’s name.”
“Your brother is sending the carriage, Madame?”
“Exactly. But that is not all. That letter you received—that letter you think comes from Madame de Chevreuse—”
“Well?”
“—is a clumsy forgery!”
“How can that be, Madame?”
“A clumsy forgery intended to prevent your resisting when they come for you.”
“But D’Artagnan himself is coming.”
“No, child, D’Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege of La Rochelle.”
“How do you know that, Madame?”
“My brother met some of the Cardinal’s men disguised in the