The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [176]
But this time our Gascon saw at a glance the whole advantage to be derived from this love, which Kitty had just confessed in such a naive and barefaced way: interception of letters addressed to the comte de Wardes; intelligence on site; entry at any hour to Kitty’s room, adjacent to that of her mistress. The deceiver, as we see, was already sacrificing the poor girl in his mind to get Milady willy-nilly.
“Well, now, my dear Kitty,” he said to the young girl, “would you like me to give you proof of that love you doubt?”
“Of what love?” asked the young girl.
“The love I’m quite ready to feel for you.”
“And what is that proof?”
“Would you like me to spend with you tonight the time I usually spend with your mistress?”
“Oh, yes!” said Kitty, clapping her hands. “Very gladly!”
“Well, then, my dear girl,” said d’Artagnan, establishing himself in an armchair, “come here till I tell you that you’re the prettiest soubrette I’ve ever seen!”
And he told it to her so much and so well that the poor girl, who asked nothing better than to believe him, did believe him…However, to d’Artagnan’s great astonishment, the pretty Kitty defended herself with a certain determination.
Time passes quickly when it comes to attack and defense.
It struck midnight, and at almost the same time the little bell rang in Milady’s bedroom.
“Good God!” cried Kitty, “that’s my mistress summoning me! Go, go quickly!”
D’Artagnan stood up, took his hat as though he intended to obey; then, quickly opening the door to a large wardrobe, instead of the door to the stairs, he ducked in amidst Milady’s dresses and robes.
“What on earth are you doing?” cried Kitty.
D’Artagnan, who had taken the key beforehand, locked himself up in the wardrobe without answering.
“Well!” cried Milady in a harsh voice, “are you asleep that you don’t come when I ring?”
And d’Artagnan heard the communicating door open violently.
“Here I am, Milady, here I am,” cried Kitty, rushing to meet her mistress.
They both went into the bedroom, and as the communicating door remained open, d’Artagnan could hear Milady scolding her maid for a while longer; then she finally calmed down, and, while Kitty tended to her mistress, the conversation turned to him.
“Well,” said Milady, “I didn’t see our Gascon this evening.”
“What, Madame,” said Kitty, “you mean he didn’t come? Will he turn fickle before he’s made happy?”
“Oh, no, he must have been hindered by M. de Tréville or M. des Essarts. I know myself, Kitty, and that one is hooked.”
“What will Madame do with him?”
“What will I do with him!…Don’t worry, Kitty, there’s something between that man and me that he doesn’t know…he nearly made me lose my credit with His Eminence…Oh, I will have my revenge!”
“I thought Madame was in love with him.”
“In love with him? I detest him! A ninny, who has Lord de Winter’s life in his hands and doesn’t kill him, and who costs me three hundred thousand livres in income!”
“That’s true,” said Kitty, “your son was his uncle’s sole heir, and until his coming of age, you would have had the enjoyment of his fortune.”
D’Artagnan shuddered to the marrow of his bones, listening to this suave creature reproach him, in that strident voice she had so much trouble concealing in conversation, for not having killed a man he had seen her heap with friendship.
“And so,” Milady went on, “I would already have taken revenge on him, if the cardinal, I don’t know why, hadn’t urged me to spare him.”
“Oh, yes, but Madame didn’t spare that little woman he was in love with.”
“Oh, the mercer’s wife from the rue des Fossoyeurs—hasn’t he already forgotten she existed? A fine vengeance, by heaven!”
Cold sweat trickled down d’Artagnan’s brow: she was a monster, this woman.
He went back to listening, but unfortunately the night’s preparations were finished.
“Very well,” said Milady, “go to your room, and tomorrow try finally to get a response to that letter I gave you.”
“For M. de Wardes?” asked Kitty.
“Of course, for M. de Wardes.”
“There’s one,” said Kitty, “who