Part 54

"You cannot take me with you?"

"No, the order is strict: in the vicinity of the camp, you might be recognized, and your presence, you understand, would compromise His Eminence, especially after what has just happened there. Only, tell me in advance where you will await news from the cardinal, so that I always know where to find you."

"Listen, it is likely that I cannot remain here."

"Why?"

"You forget that my enemies may arrive at any moment."

"That is true; but then this little woman is going to escape His Eminence?"

"Bah!" said Milady, with a smile that belonged only to her, "you forget that I am his best friend."

"Ah! that is true! So I can tell the cardinal, regarding this woman..."

"Let him be at ease."

"That's all?"

"He will know what that means."

"He will guess it. Now, let's see, what am I to do?"

"Leave immediately; it seems to me that the news you are bringing back are well worth making haste."

"My carriage broke down entering Lillers."

"Splendid!"

"How, splendid?"

"Yes, I need your carriage, myself," said the countess.

"And how shall I leave, then?"

"At a full gallop."

"You speak easily enough, a hundred and eighty leagues."

"What of it?"

"They will be covered. After?"

"After: passing through Lillers, you send my carriage back to me, with orders to your servant to put himself at my disposal."

"Good."

"You no doubt have some order from the cardinal on you?"

"I have my full powers."

"You show them to the abbess, and you tell her that someone will come for me, either today or tomorrow, and that I shall have to follow the person who presents himself in your name."

"Very well!"

"Do not forget to speak harshly of me to the abbess."

"What for?"

"I am a victim of the cardinal. I must inspire confidence in that poor little Mme Bonacieux."

"That is right. Now, will you make me a report of everything that has happened?"

"But I have told you the events; you have a good memory, repeat things as I told them to you; a paper gets lost."

"You are right; only let me know where to find you, so that I don't go running uselessly about the vicinity."

"That is correct, wait."

"Do you want a map?"

"Oh! I know this country marvelously."

"You? When have you been here?"

"I was raised here."

"Really?"

"It's good for something, you see, to have been raised somewhere."

"So you will wait for me...?"

"Let me think a moment; hold, at Armentières."

"What is that, Armentières?"

"A little town on the Lys! I need only cross the river and I am in a foreign country."

"Splendid! But it is understood that you will only cross the river in case of danger."

"That is understood."

"And, in that case, how will I know where you are?"

"You do not need your lackey?"

"No."

"Is he a trustworthy man?"

"Proven."

"Give him to me; no one knows him, I leave him at the place I leave, and he leads you to where I am."

"And you say you will wait for me at Argentières?"

"At Armentières," replied Milady.

"Write that name down on a piece of paper for me, for fear I forget it; it's not compromising, a town name, is it?"

"Eh, who knows? Never mind," said Milady, writing the name on a half-sheet of paper, "I compromise myself."

"Good!" said Rochefort, taking the paper from Milady's hands, folding it and thrusting it into the lining of his hat; "besides, be at ease, I will do as children do, and in case I lose this paper, repeat the name all along the road. Now, is that all?"

"I think so."

"Let's search well: Buckingham dead or gravely wounded; your conversation with the cardinal overheard by the four musketeers; Lord de Winter warned of your arrival at Portsmouth; d'Artagnan and Athos in the Bastille; Aramis the lover of Mme de Chevreuse; Porthos a fop; Mme Bonacieux found; send you the carriage as soon as possible; put my lackey at your disposal; make yourself a victim of the cardinal, so that the abbess takes no suspicion; Armentières on the banks of the Lys. Is that it?"

"Truly, my dear chevalier, you are a miracle of memory. By the way, add one thing..."

"Which?"

"I saw some very pretty woods that must touch the convent garden; say that I am allowed to walk in those woods; who knows? I may need to leave by a back gate."

"You think of everything."

"And you, you forget one thing..."

"Which?"

"To ask me if I need money."

"That is right; how much do you want?"

"All the gold you have."

"I have about five hundred pistoles."

"I have as much; with a thousand pistoles one can face anything; empty your pockets."

"Here, countess."

"Good, my dear count! And you leave...?"

"In an hour; time to eat a bite, during which I will send for a post horse."

"Splendid! Farewell, chevalier!"

"Farewell, countess!"

"Commend me to the cardinal," said Milady.

"Commend me to Satan," replied Rochefort.

Milady and Rochefort exchanged a smile and parted.

An hour later, Rochefort left at a full gallop on his horse; five hours later he passed through Arras.

Our readers already know how he had been recognized by d'Artagnan, and how that recognition, inspiring fears in the four musketeers, had given new activity to their journey.

CHAPTER LXIII. A DROP OF WATER

Scarcely had Rochefort left when Mme Bonacieux returned. She found Milady with a smiling face.

"Well," said the young woman, "what you feared has happened; tonight or tomorrow the cardinal sends for you?"

"Who told you that, my child?" asked Milady.

"I heard it from the messenger's own mouth."

"Come sit here near me," said Milady.

"Here I am."

"Wait until I make sure no one is listening."

"Why all these precautions?"

"You shall know."

Milady rose and went to the door, opened it, looked into the corridor, and returned to sit beside Mme Bonacieux.

"So," she said, "he played his role well."

"Who?"

"He who presented himself to the abbess as the cardinal's envoy."

"It was then a role he was playing?"

"Yes, my child."

"So that man is not..."

"That man," said Milady, lowering her voice, "is my brother."

"Your brother!" cried Mme Bonacieux.

"Well, you are the only one who knows this secret, my child; if you confide it to anyone in the world, I will be lost, and you too perhaps."

"Oh! My God!"

"Listen, this is what is happening: my brother, who came to my aid to take me away from here by force if necessary, met the cardinal's emissary who was coming to fetch me; he followed him. Having reached a solitary and secluded spot on the road, he drew his sword, summoning the messenger to hand over the papers he was carrying; the messenger tried to defend himself, my brother killed him."

"Oh!" said Mme Bonacieux, shuddering.

"It was the only way, think about it. Then my brother resolved to substitute cunning for force: he took the papers, presented himself here as the cardinal's own emissary, and in an hour or two, a carriage is to come for me on behalf of His Eminence."

"I understand; that carriage is the one your brother sends you."

"Exactly; but that is not all: that letter you received, which you believe is from Mme de Chevreuse..."

"Well?"

"It is false."

"How so?"

"Yes, false: it is a trap so that you will offer no resistance when someone comes for you."

"But it is d'Artagnan who will come."

"Do not be deceived, d'Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege of La Rochelle."

"How do you know that?"

"My brother met the cardinal's emissaries dressed as musketeers. You would have been called to the door, you would have thought you were dealing with friends, you would have been carried off and taken back to Paris."

"Oh! My God! My head is spinning in this chaos of iniquities. I feel that if this continues," continued Mme Bonacieux, putting her hands to her forehead, "I will go mad!"

"Wait..."

"What?"

"I hear a horse's step; it is my brother leaving again; I want to bid him a last farewell, come."

Milady opened the window and motioned for Mme Bonacieux to join her there. The young woman went.

Rochefort was passing at a gallop.

"Farewell, brother!" cried Milady.

The chevalier raised his head, saw the two young women, and, still riding, made an amicable sign with his hand to Milady.

"That good Georges!" she said, closing the window with a facial expression full of affection and melancholy.

And she returned to her seat, as if plunged into personal reflections.

"Dear lady!" said Mme Bonacieux, "forgive me for interrupting you! But what do you advise me to do? My God! You have more experience than I; speak, I am listening to you."

"First," said Milady, "it is possible I am mistaken and that d'Artagnan and his friends truly come to your rescue."

"Oh! That would be too wonderful!" cried Mme Bonacieux, "and so much happiness is not meant for me!"

"Then, you understand; it would be simply a matter of time, a kind of race to see who arrives first. If your friends win in speed, you are saved; if the cardinal's satellites do, you are lost."

"Oh! Yes, yes, lost without mercy! What to do, then? What to do?"

"There would be a very simple, very natural way..."

"Which? Tell me."

"It would be to wait, hidden in the vicinity, and thus make sure which men come to ask for you."

"But where to wait?"

"Oh! That is no question: I myself am stopping and hiding a few leagues from here while waiting for my brother to rejoin me; well, I will take you with me, we will hide and wait together."

"But they will not let me leave; I am here almost a prisoner."

"Since they believe I am leaving on an order from the cardinal, they will not think you are very eager to follow me."

"Well?"

"Well, the carriage is at the door, you say goodbye to me, you step onto the footboard to embrace me one last time; my brother's servant, who is coming for me, is warned, he signals the postilion, and we leave at a gallop."

"But d'Artagnan, d'Artagnan, if he comes?"

"Will we not know?"

"How?"

"Nothing easier. We send that servant of my brother, who is trustworthy as I told you, back to Béthune; he takes a disguise and lodges opposite the convent: if the cardinal's emissaries come, he does not move; if it is M. d'Artagnan and his friends, he brings them to where we are."

"So he knows them?"

"Certainly, has he not seen M. d'Artagnan at my home!"

"Oh! Yes, yes, you are right; thus, all is well, all is for the best; but let us not go far from here."

"At most seven or eight leagues; we will stay on the border, for instance, and at the first alarm, we leave France."

"And until then, what to do?"

"Wait."

"But if they arrive?"

"My brother's carriage will arrive before them."

"If I am far from you when they come for you; at dinner or supper, for instance?"

"Do one thing."

"Which?"

"Tell your good superior that, in order to leave each other as little as possible, you will ask her permission to share my meals."

"Will she allow it?"

"What harm is there in that?"

"Oh! Very good; this way we will not leave each other for a moment!"

"Well, go downstairs to her to make your request! I feel heavy-headed; I will take a turn in the garden."

"Go, and where shall I find you?"

"Here in an hour."

"Here in an hour; oh! You are good and I thank you."

"How could I not take an interest in you? Even if you were not beautiful and charming, are you not the friend of one of my best friends!"

"Dear d'Artagnan, oh! How he will thank you!"

"I certainly hope so. Come! All is agreed, let us go down."

"You are going to the garden?"

"Yes."

"Follow this corridor; a small staircase leads you there."

"Splendid! Thank you."

And the two women parted, exchanging a charming smile.

Milady had told the truth; she had a heavy head, for her ill-arranged plans jostled each other as in a chaos. She needed to be alone to bring a little order to her thoughts. She saw vaguely into the future; but she needed some silence and quiet to give all her ideas, still confused, a distinct form, a settled plan.

What was most urgent was to abduct Mme Bonacieux, to put her in a safe place, and there, if necessary, to make her a hostage. Milady was beginning to fear the outcome of this terrible duel, in which her enemies showed as much perseverance as she showed ferocity.

Moreover, she felt, as one feels a storm coming, that this outcome was near and could not fail to be terrible.

The main thing for her, as we have said, was therefore to keep Mme Bonacieux in her hands. Mme Bonacieux was d'Artagnan's life; she was more than his life, she was the life of the woman he loved; she was, in case of bad fortune, a means of negotiating and obtaining surely good conditions.

Now, this point was settled: Mme Bonacieux, unsuspecting, would follow her; once hidden with her in Armentières, it would be easy to make her believe that d'Artagnan had not come to Béthune. Within a fortnight at most, Rochefort would be back; during that fortnight, moreover, she would see to what she had to do to avenge herself on the four friends. She would not be bored, thank God, for she would have the sweetest pastime that events could grant to a woman of her character: a good vengeance to perfect.

While dreaming, she cast her eyes around her and classified the topography of the garden in her head. Milady was like a good general, who foresees both victory and defeat, and who is ready, according to the chances of battle, to advance or retreat.

At the end of an hour, she heard a soft voice calling her; it was Mme Bonacieux. The good abbess had naturally consented to everything, and to begin, they would sup together.

Arriving in the courtyard, they heard the noise of a carriage stopping at the door.

"Do you hear?" she said.

"Yes, the rumbling of a carriage."

"It is the one my brother sends us."

"Oh! My God!"

"Come, courage!"

The convent gate bell rang; Milady had not been mistaken.

"Go up to your room," she said to Mme Bonacieux; "you no doubt have some jewels you wish to take."

"I have his letters," she said.

"Well, go fetch them and come join me in my room; we will sup hastily; perhaps we will travel part of the night; we need to gain strength."

"Great God!" said Mme Bonacieux, putting her hand on her chest, "my heart is suffocating me; I cannot walk."

"Courage, come, courage! Think that in a quarter of an hour you are saved, and consider that what you are about to do, you are doing for him."

"Oh! Yes, everything for him. With a single word you have restored my courage; go, I will join you."

Milady went up quickly to her room; there she found Rochefort's lackey and gave him her instructions.

He was to wait at the door; if by chance the musketeers appeared, the carriage would leave at a gallop, go around the convent, and wait for Milady at a small village situated on the other side of the woods. In that case, Milady would cross the garden and reach the village on foot; we have already said that Milady knew this part of France marvelously.

If the musketeers did not appear, things would go as arranged: Mme Bonacieux would get into the carriage under the pretext of saying goodbye to her, and Milady would abduct Mme Bonacieux.

Mme Bonacieux entered, and to remove any suspicion from her if she had any, Milady repeated the last part of her instructions in front of her to the lackey.

Milady asked a few questions about the carriage: it was a coach drawn by three horses, driven by a postilion; Rochefort's lackey was to precede it as a courier.

Milady was wrong to fear that Mme Bonacieux might have suspicions; the poor young woman was too pure to suspect such perfidy in another woman; moreover, the name of the Countess de Winter, which she had heard pronounced by the abbess, was perfectly unknown to her, and she did not even know that a woman had had such a great and fatal part in the misfortunes of her life.

"You see," said Milady, when the lackey had left, "everything is ready. The abbess suspects nothing and believes I am being sent for on the cardinal's behalf. That man is giving the final orders; take the slightest thing, drink a finger of wine, and let us leave."

"Yes," said Mme Bonacieux mechanically, "yes, let us leave."

Milady motioned for her to sit opposite her, poured her a small glass of Spanish wine, and served her a chicken breast.

"See," she said, "how everything favors us: night is falling; by daybreak we will have arrived at our retreat, and no one will be able to guess where we are. Come, courage, take something."

Mme Bonacieux ate a few mouthfuls mechanically and moistened her lips in the glass.

"Come, come," said Milady, raising her own glass to her lips, "do as I do."

But at the moment she brought it to her mouth, her hand stopped; she had just heard on the road something like the distant rumbling of a gallop that was approaching; then, almost at the same time, she seemed to hear horses neighing.

This sound startled her from her joy like the noise of a storm wakes one in the middle of a beautiful dream; she paled and ran to the window, while Mme Bonacieux, rising all trembling, leaned on her chair to keep from falling.

Nothing was yet to be seen; only the gallop was heard, ever drawing nearer.

"Oh! My God," said Mme Bonacieux, "what is that noise?"

"That of our friends or our enemies," said Milady with her terrible composure; "stay where you are; I will tell you."

Mme Bonacieux remained standing, mute, motionless, and pale as a statue.

The noise grew louder; the horses could not be more than a hundred and fifty paces away; if they were not yet visible, it was because the road made a turn. However, the noise became so distinct that one could count the horses by the clatter of their hooves.

Milady looked with all the power of her attention; it was just light enough for her to recognize those who were coming.

Suddenly, at the turn of the road, she saw the gleam of braided hats and fluttering plumes; she counted two, then five, then eight horsemen; one of them preceded the others by two horse-lengths.

Milady gave a stifled roar. In the one in the lead she recognized d'Artagnan.

"Oh! My God! My God!" cried Mme Bonacieux, "what is it then?"

"It is the uniform of M. the cardinal's guards; not a moment to lose!" cried Milady. "Let us flee, let us flee!"

"Yes, yes, let us flee," repeated Mme Bonacieux, but without being able to take a step, nailed to the spot by terror.

They heard the horsemen passing under the window.

"Come then! But come then!" cried Milady, trying to drag the young woman by the arm. "Thanks to the garden, we can still flee; I have the key, but let us hurry; in five minutes it will be too late."

Mme Bonacieux tried to walk, took two steps, and fell to her knees.

Milady tried to lift her and carry her, but she could not succeed.

At that moment they heard the rolling of the carriage, which, at the sight of the musketeers, left at a gallop. Then three or four gunshots rang out.

"For the last time, will you come?" cried Milady.

"Oh! My God! My God! You see that my strength fails me; you see that I cannot walk; flee alone."

"Flee alone! Leave you here! No, no, never!" cried Milady.

Suddenly, a livid flash shot from her eyes; in a bound, frantic, she ran to the table, poured into Mme Bonacieux's glass the contents of a ring stone that she opened with singular promptness.

It was a reddish grain that dissolved instantly.

Then, taking the glass with a firm hand:

"Drink," she said, "this wine will give you strength; drink."

And she brought the glass to the young woman's lips, who drank mechanically.

"Ah! This is not how I wanted to avenge myself," said Milady, setting the glass back on the table with an infernal smile, "but, by my faith! one does what one can."

And she rushed out of the room.

Mme Bonacieux watched her flee, unable to follow her; she was like those people who dream they are being pursued and vainly try to walk.

A few minutes passed; a terrible noise resounded at the door; at every moment Mme Bonacieux expected to see Milady reappear, but she did not reappear.

Several times, no doubt from terror, cold sweat rose to her burning forehead.

At last she heard the grating of the iron gate as it was opened, the noise of boots and spurs resounded on the stairs; there was a great murmur of voices drawing nearer, and in the midst of them she seemed to hear her name spoken.

Suddenly she gave a great cry of joy and rushed toward the door; she had recognized d'Artagnan's voice.

"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" she cried, "is it you? This way, this way."

"Constance! Constance!" replied the young man, "where are you? My God!"

At the same moment, the cell door gave way to the impact rather than opened; several men rushed into the room; Mme Bonacieux had fallen into an armchair, unable to make a movement.

D'Artagnan threw down a still smoking pistol he held in his hand, and fell to his knees before his mistress; Athos put his back into his belt; Porthos and Aramis, who held their naked swords, sheathed them.

"Oh! D'Artagnan! My beloved d'Artagnan! You have come at last, then; you did not deceive me; it is indeed you!"

"Yes, yes, Constance! Reunited!"

"Oh! She kept saying you would not come; I hoped secretly; I did not want to flee; oh! How right I was, how happy I am!"

At that word, "she," Athos, who had sat down quietly, suddenly rose.

"She! Who, she?" asked d'Artagnan.

"But my companion; she who, out of friendship for me, wanted to save me from my persecutors; she who, taking you for the cardinal's guards, has just fled."

“Stories of the world, in your language.”