The Modern Library Children's Classics

by Kenneth Grahame

  Milady uttered a cry of joy. It was the Comte de Rochefort, the âme damnée, the demoniacal tool of His Eminence the Cardinal.

  LXII

  OF TWO VARIETIES OF DEMONS

  “You, Chevalier!” Milady cried in surprise.

  “You, Milady!” Rochefort cried with like incredulity.

  “You come from where, Chevalier?”

  “From La Rochelle, Milady. And you?”

  “From England!”

  “What of Buckingham?”

  “Buckingham is either dead or desperately wounded. Just as I left without having been able to obtain anything from him, I heard that some fanatic had stabbed him.”

  “What a piece of luck!” Rochefort smiled. “His Eminence will be delighted. Did you inform him of it?”

  “I wrote him from Boulogne. But what brings you here?”

  “His Eminence was worried and sent me in search of you.”

  “I arrived only yesterday.”

  “And what have you been doing since yesterday?”

  “I have not wasted my time.”

  “Oh, I am sure of that!”

  “Do you know whom I met here?”

  “No.”

  “Guess?”

  “How can I—?”

  “The young woman the Queen freed from prison.”

  “The mistress of young D’Artagnan?”

  “Yes … Madame Bonacieux … even the Cardinal did not know where she was hidden.…”

  “Upon my word, this piece of luck matches your news of Buckingham. His Eminence is indeed a fortunate man, Milady.”

  “I leave you to imagine how amazed I was to find myself face to face with the woman.”

  “Does she know you?”

  “No, she does not!”

  “She looks upon you as a stranger, then?”

  Milady smiled enigmatically and: “I am her best friend!” she explained coolly.

  “Upon my honor, only yourself, dear Milady, can perform such miracles!”

  “Little good it does me, Chevalier.”

  “Pray why?”

  “You don’t know what is happening?”

  “No, Madame.”

  “Tomorrow or the day after, this woman is being withdrawn from the convent on orders from the Queen.”

  “How and by whom?”

  “By D’Artagnan and his friends.”

  “Honestly, those fellows will go so far one of these days that we shall have no choice but to clap them into the Bastille.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “The Cardinal seems to entertain a certain weakness or laxity in regard to these four men. I scarcely know why.”

  “Well, tell him this, Rochefort, from me. Listen carefully. Those same four men overheard the conversation His Eminence and I held at the Sign of the Red Dovecote … after the Cardinal’s departure, one of them broke into my room … the fellow abused me and seized the safe-conduct His Eminence had given me … the four of them warned Lord Winter of my journey to England … once again, they almost foiled my mission, just as they had in the affair of the diamond studs.…”

  Rochefort asked: “But how—?”

  “Tell His Eminence that of the four, two only are dangerous: D’Artagnan and Athos … that the third, Aramis by name, happens to be the lover of Madame de Chevreuse and therefore, since we know his secret he should be spared, for he may well come in useful … and the fourth, a fellow called Porthos, is a fool, an oaf, a fathead and a blusterer beneath the notice of anyone.…”

  “But these four men must surely be at the siege of La Rochelle?”

  “That is what I thought, too. Meanwhile Madame Bonacieux was rash enough to show me a letter from Madame la Connétable. The text leads me to believe that all four are on their way here to remove her from this convent.”

  “Devil take it! What are we to do?”

  “What did the Cardinal say about me?”

  “He ordered me to ask you to communicate to me any orders you have—written or verbal—and to return post-haste. As soon as he learns what you have done, he will consider what you are to do hereafter.”

  “So I am to stay here?”

  “Here or in the neighborhood.”

  “Can you not take me with you?”

  “No, Milady, my orders are imperative. Near the camp you might well be recognized and your presence, you must realize, might compromise His Eminence.”

  “Well, I suppose I shall have to wait here or somewhere near by.”

  “I am afraid so, Milady. But be sure to tell me where you settle, so that the Cardinal’s orders can reach you promptly.”

  Milady explained that she would probably be unable to stay at the convent because her enemies would be arriving at any moment.

  “So this little woman is to slip through the Cardinal’s fingers?” Rochefort asked.

  Again Milady smiled an enigmatic smile all her own.

  “You forget I told you I was her best friend,” she answered.

  “True, Milady. I can therefore tell the Cardinal that in so far as this little woman is concerned—”

  “He may rest easy.”

  “That is your only message?”

  “His Eminence will know what I mean.”

  “At least he will make a shrewd guess. Now, let us see: what had I better do?”

  “You must go back at once. Surely the news I have given you deserves to be immediately communicated to the Cardinal?”

  “My chaise broke down as we drove into Lilliers.”

  “Excellent! Nothing could be better!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I can use your chaise.”

  “And how am I to travel?”

  “Full speed on horseback.”

  “Easy enough to say. But I have almost six hundred miles to cover.”

  “That is soon done. A horseman like you—”

  “Granted. But what then—?”

  “As you pass through Lilliers, send your servant in your chaise with instructions to obey all my orders implicitly.”

  “What then, Milady?”

  “You must have some sort of credentials from the Cardinal, my dear Rochefort.”

  “Indeed I have. I am granted full powers—”

  “Show your orders to the Mother Superior … tell her someone or other will come to fetch me today or tomorrow … say that I am to follow the bearer of your note.…”

  “Good.”

  “When you speak to the Mother Superior, don’t forget to speak ill of me.”

  “Why, Milady?”

  “Because I am passing as a victim of the Cardinal. I must have some means of inspiring confidence in poor little Madame Bonacieux.”

  “True enough. Now will you give me a detailed report of all that has happened?”

  “I have told you everything,” Milady insisted. “You have an excellent memory; just repeat what I have told you. To put all that in writing is useless. Papers are easily lost.”

  “Yes, but I must know where you are going. I cannot roam the neighborhood looking for you to bring you the Cardinal’s orders. Do you want a map?”

  “No, no, I know this part of the country quite well.”

  “Really!”

  “Yes, I was brought up here,” Milady told him. “It does come in useful to have been brought up somewhere, don’t you think?”

  “I shall send my chaise to you,” Rochefort decided. “But where will I find you later?”

  “Let me think? Ah, I have it, Chevalier: I will stay at Armentières!”

  “Where and what is Armentières?”

  “A small town on the River Lys. I need but cross the river and I am on foreign soil.”

  “Agreed. But you will cross the river only in case of the gravest danger—?”

  “Certainly.”

  “But if you cross, how shall I find you?”

  “Your lackey … you don’t need him … can he be trusted …?”

  “I don’t need him and
he is thoroughly trustworthy.”

  “Let me have him,” Milady suggested. “Nobody here knows him. I can leave him at the place I leave the chaise and he can wait for you there.”

  “At Armentières, then, Milady.”

  “At Armentières.”

  “Do write that name on a piece of paper, Milady, lest I forget it. The name of a town can compromise nobody.”

  “Anything can compromise anybody,” Milady replied, “but never mind.” Tearing a sheet in half, she wrote the word “Armentières.”

  “I don’t mind compromising myself to that extent,” she added.

  Rochefort took the paper, folded it and placed it in the lining of his hat.

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I shall do as children do: for fear of losing the paper, I shall repeat the name all along the road. Is there anything else?”

  “Plenty,” Milady answered with a certain asperity.

  “Let me see: Buckingham dead or at death’s door … your conversation with the Cardinal overheard by the four musketeers … Lord Winter informed of your arrival at Portsmouth … D’Artagnan and Athos to be committed to the Bastille … Aramis, lover of Madame de Chevreuse … Porthos a lout and an oaf … Madame Bonacieux whom you discovered in hiding here … the chaise to come for you here as soon as possible … my valet at your disposal … you, a victim of the Cardinal’s, in order to dispel any suspicions the Mother Superior may entertain … and Armentières on the banks of the Lys our next meeting-place.… Am I right?”

  “Ay, Chevalier, your memory is flawless. But there is still something.”

  “What, Milady?”

  “There is a very pretty wood close to the convent garden. Tell the Mother Superior to allow me to stroll there. Who can tell? I may need a back door to assure my escape.”

  “You think of absolutely everything, Milady.”

  “And you, Chevalier, forget—”

  “I forget what—?”

  “You forget to ask me whether I need money?”

  “Do you? How much, Milady?”

  “All the gold you have on your person.”

  “I have about five hundred pistoles.”

  “I have the same amount,” Milady said. “With a thousand pistoles we can face all emergencies. Turn out your pockets.”

  “Here you are then.”

  “Splendid! When do you leave?”

  “Within an hour … just enough time to snatch a bite to eat … and while I sup, I shall send somebody to fetch me a horse …”

  “All is settled, then. Farewell, Monsieur.”

  “Good-bye, Milady.”

  “Pray commend me to the Cardinal.”

  “Pray commend me to Satan, Madame.”

  Milady and Rochefort smiled beautifically upon each other and parted. Within an hour Rochefort was galloping along the road and within five he had passed through Arras, where, as may be recalled, D’Artagnan recognized him, and was with difficulty prevented by his comrades from pursuing him, and accordingly made for his goal with greater enthusiasm and celerity …

  LXIII

  OF WINE AND WATER

  Rochefort had scarcely departed when Madame Bonacieux returned to face Milady who was wreathed in smiles.

  “Well, what you dreaded has happened, Madame. The Cardinal is sending somebody to take you away this evening or tomorrow.”

  “Who told you, child?”

  “The messenger himself.”

  “Come sit by me,” Milady said.

  “Here I am, Madame.”

  “Sit close to me. Now wait—we must make sure no one is listening.”

  “Why all these precautions, Madame?”

  “I shall explain in good time.”

  Milady rose, opened the door, looked into the corridor, closed the door again and returned to her place.

  “Well, the lad has made a good job of it!” she sighed. “Who, Madame?”

  “The man who impersonated the Cardinal’s envoy.”

  “So he was playing a part?”

  “Yes, child.”

  “Then the man I spoke to—?”

  “The man you spoke to,” Milady lowered her voice confidentially, “is my brother.”

  “Your brother, Madame?”

  “You alone know this secret, my dear. If you reveal it to anyone in the world, I shall be lost and you too perhaps.”

  “Ah, God! Madame—”

  “Listen carefully. This is exactly what happened. My brother was coming to my rescue to take me away from here by force if necessary. On the way he met the Cardinal’s emissary, followed him and at a lonely stretch of the road compelled the Cardinal’s man to hand over his credentials. The fellow put up a fight, so my brother killed him in self-defense!”

  “How dreadful, Madame!” the novice said shuddering.

  “What else could he do?” Milady insisted.

  Madame Bonacieux shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Milady went on:

  “My brother decided to substitute cunning for violence. Making the papers, he presented himself as the Cardinal’s messenger and within an hour or two a carriage will come to fetch me away in the Cardinal’s name.”

  “Your brother is sending the carriage, Madame?”

  “Exactly. But that is not all. That letter you received—that letter you think comes from Madame de Chevreuse—”

  “Well?”

  “—is a clumsy forgery!”

  “How can that be, Madame?”

  “A clumsy forgery intended to prevent your resisting when they come for you.”

  “But D’Artagnan himself is coming.”

  “No, child, D’Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege of La Rochelle.”

  “How do you know that, Madame?”

  “My brother met some of the Cardinal’s men disguised in the uniform of musketeers. The plan was to have you summoned to the gate and, as you advanced to meet people you believed were friends, to seize you and carry you off to Paris.”

  “Ah, God, what evil! I vow my senses fail me amid this chaos of iniquities! If this continues, I shall go mad!”

  “One moment! Wait!”

  “What is it?”

  “I hear a horse’s hoofs; that must be my brother setting off again. I shall wave him farewell. Come to the window.”

  Motioning to the novice to join her, she threw open the window and leaned out, the novice joining her. Below, Rochefort galloped by.

  “Good-bye, brother,” Milady called.

  The Chevalier looked up, perceived the two young women and without stopping raised his hand in friendly salute.

  “Bless his heart!” Milady said closing the window, her expression at once melancholy and affectionate. And she returned to her chair as if she were plunged in purely personal reflections.

  “Forgive me for interrupting you, dear Madame,” the novice ventured. “But I implore you to tell me what you advise me to do. You have so much more experience than I. Speak and I shall obey you.”

  “To begin with, I may be wrong,” Milady said confidently, “and it is barely possible that D’Artagnan and his friends are really coming to your rescue.”

  “That would be too wonderful!” the novice exclaimed. “Surely so much happiness is not in store for me!”

  “Well, if your friends are coming, the whole thing boils itself down to a question of time, a kind of race. Who will reach there first? If your friends are the speedier, you are saved; if the Cardinal’s henchmen outride them, you are lost.”

  “Yes, hopelessly lost! But what shall I do, Madame, what shall I do?”

  “There is one quite simple, quite natural way—”

  “What way, Madame?”

  “You might wait in hiding somewhere in the neighborhood until you made sure exactly who was coming to fetch you.”

  “But where can I wait?”

  “That is easy! I myself am going to hide a few leagues from here until my brother can join me. Suppose I take you with me and we wait in hiding toget
her.”

  “But I will not be allowed to leave, Madame,” the novice objected. “I am virtually a prisoner here.”

  “As they think I am leaving on orders from the Cardinal no one will dream that you wish to follow me.”

  “What then, Madame?”

  “My carriage is at the gate … you are bidding me adieu … you mount the step to embrace me for the last time … suddenly my brother’s lackey signals to the postillion and we drive off.…”

  “But D’Artagnan, Madame? What of D’Artagnan, if he comes?”

  “We shall know if he comes, my dear.”

  “How, Madame?”

  “We can trust my brother’s lackey … we will send him back to Béthune … he can assume a disguise and take lodgings opposite the convent … if the Cardinal’s emissaries turn up first, he makes no move … if it is Monsieur D’Artagnan and his friends, he brings them to us.…”

  “The lackey knows Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

  “Certainly. Has he not seen him often at my house?”

  “Yes, yes, Madame, I had forgotten. All is for the best, I am sure. But let us not go too far away from here.”

  “Eight leagues at most, child. We shall settle close to the border. At the first sign of danger, we can leave France.”

  “But what in the meantime?”

  “We must wait patiently. It will not be long.”

  “But what if D’Artagnan and his friends arrive?”

  “My brother’s carriage will be here first.”

  “What if I should be away when the carriage calls for you?” the novice asked. “I might be in the refectory at dinner or supper for instance.”

  “Why not ask our good Mother Superior to allow you to share my meal?”

  “Will she permit it?”

  “Why should she object?”

  “Yes, that is a splendid idea, Madame. We need not be separated for an instant.”

  “Quite so, my dear. Now run down to make your request. I feel dizzy; my head is spinning; I think I shall go for a stroll in the garden.”

  “Where shall I meet you, Madame?”

  “Right here in an hour.”

  “Very well, Madame; right here in an hour from now. Oh, how kindly and gracious you are and how thankful I am to you!”

  “Why should I not be interested in you? You are beautiful and you are charming. And one of my best friends is in love with you.”

  “How grateful D’Artagnan will be, Madame!”