37 MILADY'S SECRET
D'Artagnan left the hotel instead of going up at once to Kitty'schamber, as she endeavored to persuade him to do--and that for tworeasons: the first, because by this means he should escape reproaches,recriminations, and prayers; the second, because he was not sorry tohave an opportunity of reading his own thoughts and endeavoring, ifpossible, to fathom those of this woman.
What was most clear in the matter was that d'Artagnan loved Milady likea madman, and that she did not love him at all. In an instant d'Artagnanperceived that the best way in which he could act would be to go homeand write Milady a long letter, in which he would confess to her that heand de Wardes were, up to the present moment absolutely the same, andthat consequently he could not undertake, without committing suicide, tokill the Comte de Wardes. But he also was spurred on by a ferociousdesire of vengeance. He wished to subdue this woman in his own name; andas this vengeance appeared to him to have a certain sweetness in it, hecould not make up his mind to renounce it.
He walked six or seven times round the Place Royale, turning at everyten steps to look at the light in Milady's apartment, which was to beseen through the blinds. It was evident that this time the young womanwas not in such haste to retire to her apartment as she had been thefirst.
At length the light disappeared. With this light was extinguished thelast irresolution in the heart of d'Artagnan. He recalled to his mindthe details of the first night, and with a beating heart and a brain onfire he re-entered the hotel and flew toward Kitty's chamber.
The poor girl, pale as death and trembling in all her limbs, wished todelay her lover; but Milady, with her ear on the watch, had heard thenoise d'Artagnan had made, and opening the door, said, "Come in."
All this was of such incredible immodesty, of such monstrous effrontery,that d'Artagnan could scarcely believe what he saw or what he heard. Heimagined himself to be drawn into one of those fantastic intrigues onemeets in dreams. He, however, darted not the less quickly toward Milady,yielding to that magnetic attraction which the loadstone exercises overiron.
As the door closed after them Kitty rushed toward it. Jealousy, fury,offended pride, all the passions in short that dispute the heart of anoutraged woman in love, urged her to make a revelation; but shereflected that she would be totally lost if she confessed havingassisted in such a machination, and above all, that d'Artagnan wouldalso be lost to her forever. This last thought of love counseled her tomake this last sacrifice.
D'Artagnan, on his part, had gained the summit of all his wishes. It wasno longer a rival who was beloved; it was himself who was apparentlybeloved. A secret voice whispered to him, at the bottom of his heart,that he was but an instrument of vengeance, that he was only caressedtill he had given death; but pride, but self-love, but madness silencedthis voice and stifled its murmurs. And then our Gascon, with that largequantity of conceit which we know he possessed, compared himself with deWardes, and asked himself why, after all, he should not be beloved forhimself?
He was absorbed entirely by the sensations of the moment. Milady was nolonger for him that woman of fatal intentions who had for a momentterrified him; she was an ardent, passionate mistress, abandoningherself to love which she also seemed to feel. Two hours thus glidedaway. When the transports of the two lovers were calmer, Milady, who hadnot the same motives for forgetfulness that d'Artagnan had, was thefirst to return to reality, and asked the young man if the means whichwere on the morrow to bring on the encounter between him and de Wardeswere already arranged in his mind.
But d'Artagnan, whose ideas had taken quite another course, forgothimself like a fool, and answered gallantly that it was too late tothink about duels and sword thrusts.
This coldness toward the only interests that occupied her mind terrifiedMilady, whose questions became more pressing.
Then d'Artagnan, who had never seriously thought of this impossibleduel, endeavored to turn the conversation; but he could not succeed.Milady kept him within the limits she had traced beforehand with herirresistible spirit and her iron will.
D'Artagnan fancied himself very cunning when advising Milady torenounce, by pardoning de Wardes, the furious projects she had formed.
But at the first word the young woman started, and exclaimed in a sharp,bantering tone, which sounded strangely in the darkness, "Are youafraid, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
"You cannot think so, dear love!" replied d'Artagnan; "but now, supposethis poor Comte de Wardes were less guilty than you think him?"
"At all events," said Milady, seriously, "he has deceived me, and fromthe moment he deceived me, he merited death."
"He shall die, then, since you condemn him!" said d'Artagnan, in so firma tone that it appeared to Milady an undoubted proof of devotion. Thisreassured her.
We cannot say how long the night seemed to Milady, but d'Artagnanbelieved it to be hardly two hours before the daylight peeped throughthe window blinds, and invaded the chamber with its paleness. Seeingd'Artagnan about to leave her, Milady recalled his promise to avenge heron the Comte de Wardes.
"I am quite ready," said d'Artagnan; "but in the first place I shouldlike to be certain of one thing."
"And what is that?" asked Milady.
"That is, whether you really love me?"
"I have given you proof of that, it seems to me."
"And I am yours, body and soul!"
"Thanks, my brave lover; but as you are satisfied of my love, you must,in your turn, satisfy me of yours. Is it not so?"
"Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say," replied d'Artagnan,"do you not entertain a little fear on my account?"
"What have I to fear?"
"Why, that I may be dangerously wounded--killed even."
"Impossible!" cried Milady, "you are such a valiant man, and such anexpert swordsman."
"You would not, then, prefer a method," resumed d'Artagnan, "which wouldequally avenge you while rendering the combat useless?"
Milady looked at her lover in silence. The pale light of the first raysof day gave to her clear eyes a strangely frightful expression.
"Really," said she, "I believe you now begin to hesitate."
"No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte de Wardes,since you have ceased to love him. I think that a man must be soseverely punished by the loss of your love that he stands in need of noother chastisement."
"Who told you that I loved him?" asked Milady, sharply.
"At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too much fatuity,that you love another," said the young man, in a caressing tone, "and Irepeat that I am really interested for the count."
"You?" asked Milady.
"Yes, I."
"And why YOU?"
"Because I alone know--"
"What?"
"That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guilty toward youas he appears."
"Indeed!" said Milady, in an anxious tone; "explain yourself, for Ireally cannot tell what you mean."
And she looked at d'Artagnan, who embraced her tenderly, with eyes whichseemed to burn themselves away.
"Yes; I am a man of honor," said d'Artagnan, determined to come to anend, "and since your love is mine, and I am satisfied I possess it--forI do possess it, do I not?"
"Entirely; go on."
"Well, I feel as if transformed--a confession weighs on my mind."
"A confession!"
"If I had the least doubt of your love I would not make it, but you loveme, my beautiful mistress, do you not?"
"Without doubt."
"Then if through excess of love I have rendered myself culpable towardyou, you will pardon me?"
"Perhaps."
D'Artagnan tried with his sweetest smile to touch his lips to Milady's,but she evaded him.
"This confession," said she, growing paler, "what is this confession?"
"You gave de Wardes a meeting on Thursday last in this very room, didyou not?"
"No, no! It is not true," said Milady, in a tone of v
oice so firm, andwith a countenance so unchanged, that if d'Artagnan had not been in suchperfect possession of the fact, he would have doubted.
"Do not lie, my angel," said d'Artagnan, smiling; "that would beuseless."
"What do you mean? Speak! you kill me."
"Be satisfied; you are not guilty toward me, and I have already pardonedyou."
"What next? what next?"
"De Wardes cannot boast of anything."
"How is that? You told me yourself that that ring--"
"That ring I have! The Comte de Wardes of Thursday and the d'Artagnan oftoday are the same person."
The imprudent young man expected a surprise, mixed with shame--a slightstorm which would resolve itself into tears; but he was strangelydeceived, and his error was not of long duration.
Pale and trembling, Milady repulsed d'Artagnan's attempted embrace by aviolent blow on the chest, as she sprang out of bed.
It was almost broad daylight.
D'Artagnan detained her by her night dress of fine India linen, toimplore her pardon; but she, with a strong movement, tried to escape.Then the cambric was torn from her beautiful shoulders; and on one ofthose lovely shoulders, round and white, d'Artagnan recognized, withinexpressible astonishment, the FLEUR-DE-LIS--that indelible mark whichthe hand of the infamous executioner had imprinted.
"Great God!" cried d'Artagnan, loosing his hold of her dress, andremaining mute, motionless, and frozen.
But Milady felt herself denounced even by his terror. He had doubtlessseen all. The young man now knew her secret, her terrible secret--thesecret she concealed even from her maid with such care, the secret ofwhich all the world was ignorant, except himself.
She turned upon him, no longer like a furious woman, but like a woundedpanther.
"Ah, wretch!" cried she, "you have basely betrayed me, and still more,you have my secret! You shall die."
And she flew to a little inlaid casket which stood upon the dressingtable, opened it with a feverish and trembling hand, drew from it asmall poniard, with a golden haft and a sharp thin blade, and then threwherself with a bound upon d'Artagnan.
Although the young man was brave, as we know, he was terrified at thatwild countenance, those terribly dilated pupils, those pale cheeks, andthose bleeding lips. He recoiled to the other side of the room as hewould have done from a serpent which was crawling toward him, and hissword coming in contact with his nervous hand, he drew it almostunconsciously from the scabbard. But without taking any heed of thesword, Milady endeavored to get near enough to him to stab him, and didnot stop till she felt the sharp point at her throat.
She then tried to seize the sword with her hands; but d'Artagnan kept itfree from her grasp, and presenting the point, sometimes at her eyes,sometimes at her breast, compelled her to glide behind the bedstead,while he aimed at making his retreat by the door which led to Kitty'sapartment.
Milady during this time continued to strike at him with horrible fury,screaming in a formidable way.
As all this, however, bore some resemblance to a duel, d'Artagnan beganto recover himself little by little.
"Well, beautiful lady, very well," said he; "but, PARDIEU, if you don'tcalm yourself, I will design a second FLEUR-DE-LIS upon one of thosepretty cheeks!"
"Scoundrel, infamous scoundrel!" howled Milady.
But d'Artagnan, still keeping on the defensive, drew near to Kitty'sdoor. At the noise they made, she in overturning the furniture in herefforts to get at him, he in screening himself behind the furniture tokeep out of her reach, Kitty opened the door. D'Artagnan, who hadunceasingly maneuvered to gain this point, was not at more than threepaces from it. With one spring he flew from the chamber of Milady intothat of the maid, and quick as lightning, he slammed to the door, andplaced all his weight against it, while Kitty pushed the bolts.
Then Milady attempted to tear down the doorcase, with a strengthapparently above that of a woman; but finding she could not accomplishthis, she in her fury stabbed at the door with her poniard, the point ofwhich repeatedly glittered through the wood. Every blow was accompaniedwith terrible imprecations.
"Quick, Kitty, quick!" said d'Artagnan, in a low voice, as soon as thebolts were fast, "let me get out of the hotel; for if we leave her timeto turn round, she will have me killed by the servants."
"But you can't go out so," said Kitty; "you are naked."
"That's true," said d'Artagnan, then first thinking of the costume hefound himself in, "that's true. But dress me as well as you are able,only make haste; think, my dear girl, it's life and death!"
Kitty was but too well aware of that. In a turn of the hand she muffledhim up in a flowered robe, a large hood, and a cloak. She gave him someslippers, in which he placed his naked feet, and then conducted him downthe stairs. It was time. Milady had already rung her bell, and rousedthe whole hotel. The porter was drawing the cord at the moment Miladycried from her window, "Don't open!"
The young man fled while she was still threatening him with an impotentgesture. The moment she lost sight of him, Milady tumbled fainting intoher chamber.