Essential Novelists - Alexandre Dumas. Alexandre Dumas

Milady called, undressed, sent away Kitty, and shut the door. As the night before, d’Artagnan did not return home till five o’clock in the morning.

      At eleven o’clock Kitty came to him. She held in her hand a fresh billet from Milady. This time the poor girl did not even argue with d’Artagnan; she gave it to him at once. She belonged body and soul to her handsome soldier.

      D’Artagnan opened the letter and read as follows:

      This is the third time I have written to you to tell you that I love you. Beware that I do not write to you a fourth time to tell you that I detest you.

      If you repent of the manner in which you have acted toward me, the young girl who brings you this will tell you how a man of spirit may obtain his pardon.

      d’Artagnan colored and grew pale several times in reading this billet.

      “Oh, you love her still,” said Kitty, who had not taken her eyes off the young man’s countenance for an instant.

      “No, Kitty, you are mistaken. I do not love her, but I will avenge myself for her contempt.”

      “Oh, yes, I know what sort of vengeance! You told me that!”

      “What matters it to you, Kitty? You know it is you alone whom I love.”

      “How can I know that?”

      “By the scorn I will throw upon her.”

      D’Artagnan took a pen and wrote:

      Madame, Until the present moment I could not believe that it was to me your first two letters were addressed, so unworthy did I feel myself of such an honor; besides, I was so seriously indisposed that I could not in any case have replied to them.

      But now I am forced to believe in the excess of your kindness, since not only your letter but your servant assures me that I have the good fortune to be beloved by you.

      She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a man of spirit may obtain his pardon. I will come and ask mine at eleven o’clock this evening.

      To delay it a single day would be in my eyes now to commit a fresh offense.

      From him whom you have rendered the happiest of men, Comte de Wardes

      This note was in the first place a forgery; it was likewise an indelicacy. It was even, according to our present manners, something like an infamous action; but at that period people did not manage affairs as they do today. Besides, d’Artagnan from her own admission knew Milady culpable of treachery in matters more important, and could entertain no respect for her. And yet, notwithstanding this want of respect, he felt an uncontrollable passion for this woman boiling in his veins—passion drunk with contempt; but passion or thirst, as the reader pleases.

      D’Artagnan’s plan was very simple. By Kitty’s chamber he could gain that of her mistress. He would take advantage of the first moment of surprise, shame, and terror, to triumph over her. He might fail, but something must be left to chance. In eight days the campaign would open, and he would be compelled to leave Paris; d’Artagnan had no time for a prolonged love siege.

      “There,” said the young man, handing Kitty the letter sealed; “give that to Milady. It is the count’s reply.”

      Poor Kitty became as pale as death; she suspected what the letter contained.

      “Listen, my dear girl,” said d’Artagnan; “you cannot but perceive that all this must end, some way or other. Milady may discover that you gave the first billet to my lackey instead of to the count’s; that it is I who have opened the others which ought to have been opened by de Wardes. Milady will then turn you out of doors, and you know she is not the woman to limit her vengeance.”

      “Alas!” said Kitty, “for whom have I exposed myself to all that?”

      “For me, I well know, my sweet girl,” said d’Artagnan. “But I am grateful, I swear to you.”

      “But what does this note contain?”

      “Milady will tell you.”

      “Ah, you do not love me!” cried Kitty, “and I am very wretched.”

      To this reproach there is always one response which deludes women. D’Artagnan replied in such a manner that Kitty remained in her great delusion. Although she cried freely before deciding to transmit the letter to her mistress, she did at last so decide, which was all d’Artagnan wished. Finally he promised that he would leave her mistress’s presence at an early hour that evening, and that when he left the mistress he would ascend with the maid. This promise completed poor Kitty’s consolation.

       34 IN WHICH THE EQUIPMENT OF ARAMIS AND PORTHOS IS TREATED OF

      ––––––––

      SINCE THE FOUR FRIENDS had been each in search of his equipments, there had been no fixed meeting between them. They dined apart from one another, wherever they might happen to be, or rather where they could. Duty likewise on its part took a portion of that precious time which was gliding away so rapidly—only they had agreed to meet once a week, about one o’clock, at the residence of Athos, seeing that he, in agreement with the vow he had formed, did not pass over the threshold of his door.

      This day of reunion was the same day as that on which Kitty came to find d’Artagnan. Soon as Kitty left him, d’Artagnan directed his steps toward the Rue Ferou.

      He found Athos and Aramis philosophizing. Aramis had some slight inclination to resume the cassock. Athos, according to his system, neither encouraged nor dissuaded him. Athos believed that everyone should be left to his own free will. He never gave advice but when it was asked, and even then he required to be asked twice.

      “People, in general,” he said, “only ask advice not to follow it; or if they do follow it, it is for the sake of having someone to blame for having given it.”

      Porthos arrived a minute after d’Artagnan. The four friends were reunited.

      The four countenances expressed four different feelings: that of Porthos, tranquillity; that of d’Artagnan, hope; that of Aramis, uneasiness; that of Athos, carelessness.

      At the end of a moment’s conversation, in which Porthos hinted that a lady of elevated rank had condescended to relieve him from his embarrassment, Mousqueton entered. He came to request his master to return to his lodgings, where his presence was urgent, as he piteously said.

      “Is it my equipment?”

      “Yes and no,” replied Mousqueton.

      “Well, but can’t you speak?”

      “Come, monsieur.”

      Porthos rose, saluted his friends, and followed Mousqueton. An instant after, Bazin made his appearance at the door.

      “What do you want with me, my friend?” said Aramis, with that mildness of language which was observable in him every time that his ideas were directed toward the Church.

      “A man wishes to see Monsieur at home,” replied Bazin.

      “A man! What man?”

      “A mendicant.”

      “Give him alms, Bazin, and bid him pray for a poor sinner.”

      “This mendicant insists upon speaking to you, and pretends that you will be very glad to see him.”

      “Has he sent no particular message for me?”

      “Yes. If Monsieur Aramis hesitates to come,” he said, “tell him I am from Tours.”

      “From Tours!” cried Aramis.