The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [94]
“The trouble is that your whims may carry one too far,” Bonacieux replied triumphantly. “I mistrust them.”
“Very well, I give up the idea! Let us say no more about it.”
Bonacieux now recalled somewhat belatedly that Rochefort had admonished him to discover his wife’s secrets.
“You might at least tell me what you expected me to do in London?” he suggested.
“There is no point in your knowing,” she answered, with instinctive mistrust. “It was a trifling matter . . . one of those purchases that interest women . . . and we might have made a good profit on the transaction. . . .”
But the more she excused herself, the more important he believed her secret to be. He therefore decided to hasten to the Comte de Rochefort to tell him that the Queen was seeking a messenger to send to London.
“Pray forgive me if I must leave you now, dear Madame Bonacieux,” he said unctuously. “I did not know you were coming to see me, so I made an appointment to meet a friend. I shall be back soon, and, if you wait, I will escort you to the Louvre.”
“Thank you, Monsieur, you can be of no service to me. I shall return to the Louvre alone.”
“As you please, Madame Bonacieux. Shall I see you soon again?”
“Probably. Next week, I hope, my duties will afford me a little liberty; I shall take advantage of it to come here and tidy up. This place is a shambles.”
“Very well, I shall expect you. You are not angry with me?”
“Who, I? Not in the least.”
“We shall meet shortly then?”
“Yes, in a few days.”
Bonacieux kissed his wife’s hand and set off hurriedly.
“Well, well!” Madame Bonacieux mused as soon as her husband had shut the street door and she was alone. “Poor idiot, all he required to crown his baseness was to become a Cardinalist! And I vouched for him to the Queen; I promised my poor mistress—Ah, dear God! the Queen will take me for one of those wretches in the Louvre who spy upon her night and day. Alas, Monsieur Bonacieux, I never did love you much; now, things are worse than ever. I hate you and I vow you shall pay for it.”
Suddenly, hearing a rap at the ceiling, she raised her head. Through the plaster, she heard a voice from the floor above. A man was saying:
“Dear Madame Bonacieux, please open the side door; I shall come downstairs at once.”
XVIII
LOVER AND HUSBAND
Passing through the side door, D’Artagnan announced:
“Forgive me, Madame, if I say so, but your husband is a sorry specimen.”
“You heard our conversation?” Madame Bonacieux asked anxiously.
“Every word.”
“How could you overhear us?”
“I have a system, Madame, known only to myself. By this system, I also overheard the somewhat more lively conversation you had with the Cardinal’s police.”
“What did you learn from all this?”
“I learned a great deal. First, I discovered that your husband is a simpleton and a fool, which is fortunate for me . . . Secondly, I gathered that you are in distress, which pleases me beyond words because it affords me a chance to serve you . . . Third, I realized that to do so I was willing to risk all the fires of Hell . . . Fourth and last, I ascertained that the Queen needs a brave, intelligent, devoted man to go to London on her behalf. . . . Personally, I possess three of these four requisite qualities. That is why I am here.”
Madame Bonacieux dared not speak; but her heart leaped for joy and her eyes shone with all the brightness of her secret hope.
“What pledge can you offer?” she asked timidly. “This mission is a weighty one.”
“My pledge will be the love I bear you. You have but to command; I am at your orders.”
The young woman paused, wondering whether she dared confide in so young a man. “You are but a boy!” she whispered. D’Artagnan protested that there were plenty of older men who could vouch for him.
“I admit I would be more comfortable if you—”
“Do you know Athos?”
“No.”
“Porthos?”
“No.”
“Aramis?”
“No, I do not,” Madame Bonacieux said helplessly. “Who are these gentlemen?”
“They belong to His Majesty’s musketeers. Have you heard of Monsieur de Tréville, their Captain?”