The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [184]
“This woman is full of mysteries,” d’Artagnan murmured to himself.
At that moment he felt ready to reveal all. He opened his mouth to tell Milady who he was and with what vengeful purpose he had come, but she added:
“Poor angel, that monster of a Gascon nearly killed you!”
He was that monster.
“Oh!” Milady went on, “do you still suffer from your wounds?”
“Yes, very much,” said d’Artagnan, who did not quite know how to reply.
“Don’t worry,” murmured Milady, “I will avenge you myself, and cruelly!”
“Damn!” d’Artagnan said to himself. “It’s not yet the moment for confessions.”
It took d’Artagnan some time to get over this little dialogue. But all the ideas of vengeance he had brought with him had vanished completely. This woman exercised an incredible power over him. He both hated her and adored her. He had never thought that two so contrary feelings could inhabit the same heart and, in coming together, form a strange and somehow diabolical love.
However, it had just struck one; they had to separate. D’Artagnan, at the moment of leaving Milady, felt only a sharp regret to be going away, and, in the passionate farewell they addressed to each other, a new meeting was agreed upon for the next week. Poor Kitty hoped to be able to say a few words to d’Artagnan as he passed through her room, but Milady saw him off herself in the dark and left him only on the stairs.
The following morning, d’Artagnan ran to Athos’s. He was caught up in so singular an adventure that he wanted to ask his advice. He told him everything. Athos frowned several times.
“Your Milady,” he said to him, “seems to me to be an infamous creature, but nonetheless you were wrong to deceive her. In one way or another, you’ve got a terrible enemy on your hands.”
And as he spoke with him, Athos kept looking at the sapphire surrounded with diamonds that d’Artagnan was wearing on his finger in place of the queen’s ring, which had been carefully put away in a jewelry box.
“You’re looking at this ring?” asked the Gascon, proud to show off so rich a present before the eyes of his friends.
“Yes,” said Athos, “it reminds me of a family jewel.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said d’Artagnan.
“Magnificent!” replied Athos. “I didn’t think there could be two sapphires of so fine a water. Did you pawn your diamond for it?”
“No,” said d’Artagnan, “it’s a gift from my beautiful Englishwoman, or rather my beautiful Frenchwoman: for, though I’ve never asked her, I’m convinced she was born in France.”
“That ring came to you from Milady?” cried Athos, with a voice in which it was easy to detect strong emotion.
“Herself. She gave it to me last night.”
“Show me the ring,” said Athos.
“Here it is,” replied d’Artagnan, taking it from his finger.
Athos examined it and turned very pale. Then he tried it on the ring finger of his left hand. It went on the finger as if it had been made for it. A cloud of anger and vengeance passed over the usually calm brow of the gentleman.
“It can’t possibly be the same,” he said. “How could that ring wind up in the hands of Milady Clarick? And yet it’s hardly likely that two jewels could be so much alike.”
“You know this ring?” asked d’Artagnan.
“I thought I recognized it,” said Athos, “but no doubt I’m mistaken.”
And he handed it back to d’Artagnan, yet without ceasing to look at it.
“Listen, d’Artagnan,” he said after a moment, “either take that ring off, or turn the stone inside; it reminds me of such cruel memories that I won’t have wits enough to talk with you. Didn’t you come to ask my advice, didn’t you say to me that you had trouble deciding what you should do?…But wait…hand me that sapphire: the one I mentioned to you should have a scrape on one of its facets as the result of an accident.”
D’Artagnan took the ring off again and handed it to Athos.
Athos shuddered.
“Here,” he said, “you see, isn’t it strange?”
And he showed d’Artagnan the scratch that he had remembered should be there.
“But who did you have this sapphire from, Athos?”