The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [193]
D’Artagnan put on the dressing gown, mistaking one sleeve for another, so agitated he still was.
“Well, then?” said Athos.
“Well, then,” replied d’Artagnan, bending to Athos’s ear and lowering his voice, “Milady has the mark of the fleur-delis on her shoulder.”
“Ah!” cried the musketeer, as if he had received a bullet in the heart.
“Listen,” said d’Artagnan, “are you sure the other one is really dead?”
“The other one?” said Athos, in so faint a voice that d’Artagnan could barely hear him.
“Yes, the one you told me about that day in Amiens.”
Athos heaved a sigh and let his head sink in his hands.
“This one,” d’Artagnan went on, “is a woman of twenty-six or twenty-eight.”
“Blond,” said Athos, “isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Light blue eyes, of a strange brightness, with dark eyebrows and lashes?”
“Yes.”
“Tall, well built? She’s missing a tooth next to the left eye tooth.”
“Yes.”
“The fleur-de-lis is small, of a reddish color, and as if washed out by the layers of paste applied to it.”
“Yes.”
“But you say she’s English!”
“She’s called Milady, but she may be French. Anyhow, Lord de Winter is only her brother-in-law.”
“I want to see her, d’Artagnan.”
“Beware, Athos, beware! You wanted to kill her. She’s a woman who will do the same to you, and she won’t miss.”
“She won’t dare say a word, for she’d be denouncing herself.”
“She’s capable of anything! Have you ever seen her furious?”
“No,” said Athos.
“A tigress, a panther! Ah, my dear Athos! I’m afraid I’ve brought down a terrible vengence on us both!”
D’Artagnan then told everything: the mad anger of Milady and her threats of death.
“You’re right, and, upon my soul, my life wouldn’t be worth a hair,” said Athos. “Fortunately, we’re leaving Paris the day after tomorrow. We’ll be going, in all probability, to La Rochelle, and once we’ve left…”
“She’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Athos, if she recognizes you. So let her hatred vent itself on me alone.”
“Ah, my dear, what do I care if she kills me!” said Athos. “Do you think by any chance that I set much store on life?”
“There’s some horrible mystery behind all this. Athos, this woman is the cardinal’s spy, I’m sure of it!”
“In that case, watch out for yourself. If the cardinal doesn’t hold you in the highest admiration on account of that London business, he certainly hates you; but since, when all is said, he cannot reproach you openly for anything, and hatred must be satisfied, above all when it’s a cardinal’s hatred, watch out for yourself! If you go out, don’t go out alone; if you eat, take your precautions; distrust everything, finally, even your own shadow.”
“Fortunately,” said d’Artagnan, “it’s only a question of getting through the evening of the day after tomorrow without mishap, for once we’re in the army, I hope we’ll have nothing to fear except our fellow men.”
“In the meantime,” said Athos, “I’m giving up my planned reclusion and will go everywhere with you. You’ve got to go back to the rue des Fossoyeurs. I’ll accompany you.”
“Close as it is,” said d’Artagnan, “I can’t go back there like this.”
“Right enough,” said Athos. And he rang.
Grimaud came in.
Athos made him a sign to go to d’Artagnan’s place and bring back some clothes.
Grimaud replied by a sign indicating that he understood perfectly, and left.
“Well, now, none of this gets us any closer to being outfitted, my dear friend,” said Athos. “For, if I’m not mistaken, you left all your gear with Milady, who doubtless has no intention of returning it. Luckily, you have the sapphire.”
“The sapphire is yours, my dear Athos! Didn’t you tell me it was a family ring?”
“Yes, my father bought it for two thousand écus, as he told me once. It was one of the wedding gifts he gave to my mother, and it is magnificent. My mother gave it to me, and I, fool that I was, rather than keeping the ring as a sacred relic, gave it away in turn to that wretched woman.”
“Then take back the ring, my dear. I understand that you must be attached to it.”
“Take back that ring after it has passed through such infamous