After closing the door and bolting it so that they would not be disturbed, Athos turned to the Gascon.
“Come, speak. Is the King dead? Have you killed Monsieur le Cardinal? You seem terribly upset. Come, come, tell me, what happened. I am really very much worried.”
Shedding his female garments and emerging in his shirt:
“Athos,” D’Artagnan said solemnly, “brace yourself up to hear an unheard-of, an incredible story.”
“Slip on this dressing-gown first,” Athos suggested. “Then go ahead.”
D’Artagnan donned the robe so hastily and was still so agitated that he mistook one sleeve for the other.
“Well?” Athos said inquiringly.
“Well,” D’Artagnan replied, bending close to the other’s ear and speaking in a whisper, “Milady is branded. She bears a fleur-de-lis upon her shoulder.”
“Ah!” groaned the musketeer as though he had been shot through the heart.
“Tell me, Athos,” D’Artagnan went on, “are you sure the other woman is dead?”
“The other woman?” Athos mumbled so low that D’Artagnan barely heard him.
“Yes, the woman you told me about one day at Amiens.”
Athos groaned again and buried his head in his hands.
“This woman is twenty-six or twenty-eight,” D’Artagnan volunteered.
“Blonde, is she not?”
“Yes.”
“Light blue eyes of a strange brilliancy with very black eyelids and eyebrows.”
“Yes.”
“Tall? Slender? Shapely? She has lost a tooth, next to the eyetooth on the left?”
“Exactly!”
“The fleur-de-lis is small, russet in color, somewhat faded by the application of poultices?”
“The brand is faint, yes, Athos.”
“But you said she was English.”
“They call her Milady, but she might well be French. After all, Lord Winter is only her brother-in-law.”
“I must see her, D’Artagnan.”
“Beware, Athos, beware; you do not really know her. Remember, you tried to kill her. She is the sort of woman to return the compliment and to succeed where you failed.”
Athos objected that one word from Milady would suffice to condemn her, to which D’Artagnan replied that Athos had never seen Milady in a fury … that Milady was a maniac, a tigress, a panther … that he had witnessed her rages … that he had incontrovertible evidence of her cold-blooded threats and plans for murder.…
“I am very much afraid,” he concluded, “that I have invited a terrible vengeance upon both of us!”
“Right you are,” said Athos, “with her after me, my life wouldn’t be worth a counterfeit soul. Luckily we leave Paris the day after tomorrow, probably for La Rochelle, and once gone—”
“If she recognizes you,” D’Artagnan said darkly, “that woman will follow you to the ends of the earth. Let her vent her vengeance on me alone!”
“What matter if she should kill me, my friend? Do you imagine I set much store by life?”
“Athos, there is something horribly mysterious under all this. She is one of the Cardinal’s spies, I am certain.”
Athos advised his friend to take great care if such were the case. It was possible that the Cardinal might admire D’Artagnan for his brilliant conduct in the London affair even though that affair balked His Eminence’s plans. If not, then surely the Cardinal must detest D’Artagnan with all his being. However, all in all, the Cardinal could not accuse D’Artagnan openly. Yet as hatred must find expression, particularly a Cardinal’s hatred, D’Artagnan would do well to be extremely vigilant. If he went out, he should never go out alone: when he ate, he should use every precaution against poison. In short he must mistrust everything, even his own shadow.
“As you said, Athos, fortunately all this will be necessary for only thirty-six hours or so,” D’Artagnan commented. “Once with the army, I hope we will have only men to fear.”
“Meanwhile I shall renounce my vow of seclusion,” Athos declared. “I shall go with you wherever you go. You must now return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs; I shall accompany you.”
“I live quite near here, I know, Athos!” D’Artagnan surveyed himself in the mirror. “But I can’t very well go like this.”
“True!”
Athos rang, unbolted the door, and admitted Grimaud. In sign language he ordered him to go to D’Artagnan’s to fetch some clothes: Grimaud, having replied in the same medium that he understood perfectly, departed in silence.
“All this is not helping you gather your campaign outfit,” Athos remarked. “Unless I err, you have left your clothes at Milady’s. I doubt very much that she will be courteous enough to return them to you. Fortunately you have the sapphire.”
“The sapphire is yours, Athos. You told me it was a family heirloom.”
“Yes, my grandfather gave two thousand crowns for it, he once told me. It was among his wedding presents to his bride. A fine piece, don’t you think? In turn, my mother left it to me and I, fool that I am, instead of preserving it as a holy relic, gave it to that fiend!”
“You must take it back, Athos. I can see what it means to you.”
“I—I take back that ring after it has passed through the hands of that strumpet! Never. That ring has been defiled.”
“Sell it then,” D’Artagnan suggested.
“Sell a jewel my mother bequeathed me! How could I bring myself to commit such desecration!”
“Pawn it! You can probably borrow over a thousand crowns on it. That sum should solve your immediate problem. Then, when you are in funds again, you can redeem it. Surely it will have been cleansed of its ancient stains after it has passed through the hands of usurers.”
“What a delightful companion you are!” Athos smiled. “Your eternal cheerfulness is manna to those poor souls who walk in the ways of affliction. I agree, let us pawn the ring, but only on one condition.”
“What?”
“Five hundred crowns for you, five hundred for me.”
“Absurd, Athos! I don’t need a quarter of the sum. I’m in the guards; I have but to sell my saddle and I am equipped. What do I need? A horse for Planchet, that’s all. Besides, you forget I, too, have a ring.”
“A ring to which you apparently attach more value than I do to mine,” Athos replied.
“True, for in some crisis it might not only save us from considerable trouble but actually rescue us from grave danger. It is not only a valuable diamond, it is an enchanted talisman.”
“I don’t understand but I’ll take your word for it,” Athos remarked indifferently. “But to come back to my ring—or rather yours. If you refuse to accept half the proceeds, I swear I will throw it into the Seine, and, since I am no Polycrates, I doubt whether any obliging fish will bring it back to us!”
“In that case, Athos, I accept.”
At that moment, Grimaud returned, flanked by Planchet; the latter, worried about his master and curious to know what had happened to him, had insisted in delivering the clothing personally. D’Artagnan dressed; Athos did the same. When they were ready to go out, Athos struck the attitude of a man taking aim; Grimaud nodded and immediately took down his musketoon from its rack and prepared to follow his master.
They reached the Rue des Fossoyeurs safely but found Bonacieux posted on the doorstep. The haberdasher stared at D’Artagnan and with mock affability:
“Make haste, my dear lodger,” he cried, “there’s a very pretty girl waiting for you upstairs and you know women don’t like to be kept waiting.”
It could be only Kitty. D’Artagnan darted down the alley, took the stairs three at a time, and, reaching the landing, found her crouching against his door, trembling hysterically. Before he could say a word:
“You swore to protect me,” she sobbed. “You swore to save me from her anger, Monsieur le Chevalier. Remember it was you who ruined me.”
“Yes, Kitty dear, I know. But don’t worry!” He t
ook her hand in his and stroked it. “What happened after I left?”
“How do I know?” Kitty raised her hands to Heaven. “Milady screamed … the lackeys rushed up … she was foaming at the mouth … she called you names I have never heard.… Then I thought she might remember you had gone through my room into hers and that she would think I arranged it. So I took my best clothes and what little money I had and here I am.”
“I’m so sorry, Kitty dear. But what shall I do? We leave the day after tomorrow.”
“Do what you please, Monsieur le Chevalier. But at least help me to get out of Paris! Help me to get out of France!”
“But I can’t take you to the Siege of La Rochelle!”
“No, but you can place me somewhere in the provinces with some lady of your acquaintance. Can’t you send me to your home, for instance?”
“Alas, my love, the ladies in my part of the world do without chambermaids. But stop! I think I have a solution! Planchet, go fetch Monsieur Aramis at once; tell him it is a matter of utmost importance.”
“I see what you are driving at,” Athos declared. “But why not Porthos? His marquise—”
“His marquise is chambermaided by her husband’s law clerks,” D’Artagnan said laughing. “Besides Kitty doesn’t want to live in the Rue aux Ours, do you, Kitty?”
“I don’t care where I live, Monsieur, so long as I live in hiding.”
“Meanwhile, Kitty, we are about to separate. You’re not jealous of me any more, are you?”
“Near or far, Monsieur le Chevalier, I shall always love you.”
“Where in God’s name will virtue perch next?” Athos muttered cynically.
“I shall always love you, Kitty,” D’Artagnan assured her. “But before we part, I must ask you something.” He paused. “Something very important,” he went on. “Tell me, have you ever heard about a young woman who was carried off one night?”
“Let me see … oh, yes!… Ah God! Monsieur le Chevalier, do you still love that woman …?”
“No, no, no! I don’t love her. My friend Monsieur Athos loves her.”
“I?” Athos cried like a man who suddenly perceives that he is about to tread on an adder.
“Who else but you?” D’Artagnan insisted with a nudge to make his insistence felt. “You know how much we are all interested in poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty won’t give us away, will you, Kitty?” He looked down at her appealingly. “You see, my child, Madame Bonacieux is the wife of that unspeakable baboon you saw on the doorstep.”
“Oh, my God, you remind me of the terror I have been through! Pray Heaven he didn’t recognize me!”
“Recognize you? Have you ever seen him before?”
“Certainly. He came to Milady’s twice.”
“When?”
“About a fortnight ago, I think.”
“And—?”
“And he came again yesterday evening.”
“Yesterday evening?”
“Yes, just before you came.”
“My dear Athos, we are caught in a network of spies,” said D’Artagnan. Then, turning to Kitty: “Do you believe he recognized you, dear?”
“I pulled down my hood when I saw him, but perhaps it was too late.”
“Go down, Athos (he mistrusts you less than he does me) and see if he is still at the door.”
Athos went down and returned at once.
“He is gone,” he reported, “and the front door is closed.”
“He has gone to report that all the birds are hugging the dovecote.”
“Very well then, let us all fly,” Athos proposed. “We can leave Planchet here to bring us news.”
“Hold on there! What about Aramis? We sent for him.”
“Ah, yes,” Athos decided, “we shall have to wait for Aramis.”
He had no sooner spoken than Aramis entered. The problem was explained to him in full and he was given to understand he had been elected to find Kitty a position because of all his high connections. Aramis reflected a moment, blushed and asked D’Artagnan if it would really be doing him a favor.
“I shall be grateful to you all my life!” the Gascon vowed.
“Well, then,” Aramis went on, “as a matter of fact, Madame de Bois-Tracy asked the other day if I happened to know of a trusty maid. It was for a friend of hers who lives in the provinces. So if D’Artagnan can answer for Mademoiselle—”
“Oh, Monsieur, please believe that I shall be absolutely loyal and devoted to the lady who enables me to leave Paris.”
“Everything is for the best, then,” Aramis concluded as he sat down at the table. He proceeded to write a brief note, to seal it with a ring, and to hand it to Kitty.
“And now, Kitty dear,” D’Artagnan said, “you know it is not healthy for any of us to be found here. We must separate. We shall meet again in better days.”
“Whenever we meet again and wherever it may be,” Kitty answered solemnly, “you will find me loving you as deeply as I do today.”
“Dicers’ oaths, promises like piecrusts!” Athos muttered as D’Artagnan conducted Kitty downstairs. A moment later the three young men separated, agreeing to meet again at four o’clock under the hospitable roof of Athos. Planchet was left to guard the house. Aramis returned home while Athos and D’Artagnan undertook to pawn the sapphire.
As the Gascon had foreseen, they easily raised three hundred pistoles on the ring. Better still, the pawnbroker begged them to sell it to him, since it would make a magnificent pendant for earrings. Were they willing, he promised them five hundred pistoles.
Active as soldiers are and shrewd as connoisseurs, Athos and D’Artagnan assembled the musketeer’s full equipment in barely three hours. Besides, Athos was very easy in his ways and lordly to the tips of his fingers; whenever a thing suited him he paid the price sought, without dreaming of asking for a reduction. In vain D’Artagnan remonstrated; Athos merely put his hand on his shoulder and smiled, at which D’Artagnan understood that a little Gascon squirelet like himself might drive a bargain but not a man so princely in his behavior as Athos. The musketeer found a superb Andalusian horse—about six years old—with jet-black coat, slender and beautifully modeled legs and nostrils of fire. He examined the horse carefully; it was sound and flawless. The asking price was one thousand livres; perhaps Athos might have acquired his mount for less. But while D’Artagnan was bargaining with the dealer, Athos was counting out the money on the table.
For Grimaud, Athos purchased a stout, short, powerful cob from Picardy; it cost three hundred livres. But when the saddle and arms for Grimaud were purchased, Athos had not one sou left out of his hundred and fifty pistoles. D’Artagnan offered his friend a part of his own share of the proceeds; Athos could repay it at leisure. But Athos merely shrugged his shoulders.
“What did the pawnbroker say he would give us if we sold the sapphire?”
“Five hundred pistoles.”
“In other words, two hundred pistoles more; a hundred for you, a hundred for me. Why, it’s a fortune, my friend! Back to the usurer we go!”
“What? You intend to—”
“That ring would only remind me of very bitter things I prefer to forget,” Athos explained, “and anyhow we will never be able to raise three hundred pistoles to redeem it. Thus if we do not sell it, we stand to lose two hundred pistoles!”
“Please think it over carefully, Athos.”
“Ready money is at a premium these days,” Athos replied sententiously, “and we must all learn to make sacrifices. Go D’Artagnan, go see the pawnbroker and sell the ring; Mousqueton will accompany you with his musketoon.”
D’Artagnan returned safe and sound a half-hour later with the two thousand livres.
Thus Athos, by staying at home, discovered resources which he would have sought vainly abroad.
XXXIX
A VISION
At four o’clock the four friends were once more together, Athos playing the host. Their anxiety over their equipment had vanish
ed; the face of each of them now preserved only its own secret worry, for behind all present happiness lurks a vague fear of the future.
Suddenly Planchet entered, bringing two letters addressed to D’Artagnan. The first was a small paper, neatly folded, once only, lengthwise. Obviously a private communication, it was prettily sealed by a blob of green wax, with a dove, olive branch and all, stamped upon it. The other was a large square sheet, resplendent with the fearsome arms of His Eminence Duke and Cardinal. At the sight of the little letter, D’Artagnan’s heart beat the faster, for he recognized a handwriting which he had seen only once before but which was indelibly stamped upon his memory. So he took it up first and opening it eagerly read the following:
If you happen to stroll along the road to Chaillot next Thursday evening at seven o’clock, be sure to look carefully into the carriages as they pass. But if you value your life and the lives of those who love you, do not utter a word or make the slightest gesture indicating that you have recognized the woman who is risking everything in order to see you for but an instant.
There was no signature.
“It is obviously a hoax!” said Athos. “Don’t go, D’Artagnan.”
“And yet the handwriting looks familiar.”
“That note could well be a forgery,” Athos countered. “At seven in the evening the Route de Chaillot is utterly deserted. You might just as well go for a canter through the forest of Bondy!”
“What if we all went?” D’Artagnan suggested. “Surely they cannot gobble up three musketeers, one guardsman, four lackeys, four horses, weapons, harness and the rest?”
“It will give us a chance to parade our equipment,” Porthos offered in support of D’Artagnan’s suggestion. Aramis, disagreeing, pointed out that if a woman had actually written the note, and if that woman wished to remain unseen, the presence of the three musketeers would compromise her.
“And that, my dear D’Artagnan,” he concluded, “is not the part of a gentleman!”
“We can lag in the background,” Porthos argued, “and D’Artagnan can go forward alone.”
“A pistol shot is easily fired from a carriage traveling at full speed,” Aramis declared sententiously.
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