The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [305]
“How grateful D’Artagnan will be, Madame!”
“I hope so indeed.” Milady smiled. “Come, now that all is arranged, let us go downstairs.”
“You are going to the garden, Madame?”
“Yes, my dear. How do I get there?”
“Just follow this corridor until you reach a small staircase on the right and walk down one flight.”
“Thank you so much!” Milady beamed.
Milady had told the truth: she felt dizzy and her head was spinning because her ill-ordered plans clashed chaotically. She must have time to sort out her thoughts. Vaguely she foresaw the future, but she required quiet and silence to shape it up properly. The principal and most urgent matter was to carry Madame Bonacieux off to some safe place where she could hold her as a hostage, if necessary. She recognized her danger and frankly admitted to herself that her enemies were no less dogged than she. And, as a sailor senses a squall, she sensed that the contest was clear-cut, desperate and close at hand.
“The Bonacieux woman, that is the answer,” she thought. “I must keep her in my power . . . she means more to D’Artagnan than his very life . . . if I hold her, I have him at my beck and call. . . .”
Madame Bonacieux would undoubtedly follow Milady without misgivings; once they were in hiding at Armentières, Milady could easily persuade her that D’Artagnan had never come to Béthune. Within a fortnight at most, Rochefort would return; meanwhile Milady could plot how best to wreak vengeance upon her four enemies. No moment would be lost, praise God! as she enjoyed to the full the perfection, step by step, of her retaliation. Dreaming of each successive and gratifying blow she hoped to inflict upon her enemies, Milady looked about her, taking in the topography of the garden. A woman, and a beautiful one at that, she remained as realistic and as masculine as a general who, balancing possibilities of victory and defeat, allows for a lightning advance or a precipitous retreat. Presently she heard Madame Bonacieux calling her. The Mother Superior had agreed; novice and guest were to sup together.
As Milady and her companion crossed the courtyard they heard the rumble of a carriage drawing up at the gate.
“Listen!”
“Ay, it is a carriage, Madame.”
“It is my brother’s carriage.”
“Ah, God!”
“Come, child, courage!”
The bell of the convent gate rang. Milady had timed her manoeuvre perfectly.
“Run to your room,” she told Madame Bonacieux. “You must have some jewels you want to take along.”
“I have D’Artagnan’s letters!”
“Go fetch them, dear, then join me in my room. We will sup together in haste. We may have to travel part of the night; we must take nourishment to keep up our strength.”
The novice clutched her throat.
“I am stifling,” she moaned. “I cannot move! I cannot breathe!”
“Courage, my dear, just one effort! Remember that in a quarter of an hour you will be safe. Remember that what you are about to do is for his sake!”
“Yes, yes, everything for him! You have restored my courage with a single word. Go, Madame, I shall join you at once.”
Milady ran quickly up to her room, found Rochefort’s lackey waiting and gave him her instructions. He was to stand by the gate. If by chance the musketeers appeared, the carriage was to start off at top speed, drive around the convent walls and await Milady in a hamlet at the edge of the woods behind the convent. In this case, Milady would cross the garden, pass through the wood and reach the hamlet on foot. She congratulated herself on her knowledge of the countryside.
If, on the contrary, the musketeers did not appear, things were to follow the original plan: Madame Bonacieux was to jump onto the carriage step as if to bid Milady farewell and they were to drive off.
Madame Bonacieux joined her and, to dispel any suspicions the novice might have, Milady made a point of repeating in her presence the latter part of her instructions, as the lackey stood by, listening intently. She also asked several questions about the carriage; the lackey replied that it