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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
- Performer: 0670037796
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“Then I must wait here, or in the neighborhood?”
“Only tell me beforehand where you will wait for intelligence from the cardinal; let me know always where to find you.”
“Observe, it is probable that I may not be able to remain here.”
“Why?”
“You forget that my enemies may arrive at any minute.”
“That’s true; but is this little woman, then, to escape his Eminence?”
“Bah!” said Milady, with a smile that belonged only to herself; “you forget that I am her best friend.”
“Ah, that’s true! I may then tell the cardinal, with respect to this little woman--”
“That he may be at ease.”
“Is that all?”
“He will know what that means.”
“He will guess, at least. Now, then, what had I better do?”
“Return instantly. It appears to me that the news you bear is worth the trouble of a little diligence.”
“My chaise broke down coming into Lilliers.”
“Capital!”
“What, CAPITAL?”
“Yes, I want your chaise.”
“And how shall I travel, then?”
“On horseback.”
“You talk very comfortably,--a hundred and eighty leagues!”
“What’s that?”
“One can do it! Afterward?”
“Afterward? Why, in passing through Lilliers you will send me your chaise, with an order to your servant to place himself at my disposal.”
“Well.”
“You have, no doubt, some order from the cardinal about you?”
“I have my FULL POWER.”
“Show it to the abbess, and tell her that someone will come and fetch me, either today or tomorrow, and that I am to follow the person who presents himself in your name.”
“Very well.”
“Don’t forget to treat me harshly in speaking of me to the abbess.”
“To what purpose?”
“I am a victim of the cardinal. It is necessary to inspire confidence in that poor little Madame Bonacieux.”
“That’s true. Now, will you make me a report of all that has happened?”
“Why, I have related the events to you. You have a good memory; repeat what I have told you. A paper may be lost.”
“You are right; only let me know where to find you that I may not run needlessly about the neighborhood.”
“That’s correct; wait!”
“Do you want a map?”
“Oh, I know this country marvelously!”
“You? When were you here?”
“I was brought up here.”
“Truly?”
“It is worth something, you see, to have been brought up somewhere.”
“You will wait for me, then?”
“Let me reflect a little! Ay, that will do--at Armentieres.”
“Where is that Armentieres?”
“A little town on the Lys; I shall only have to cross the river, and I shall be in a foreign country.”
“Capital! but it is understood you will only cross the river in case of danger.”
“That is well understood.”
“And in that case, how shall I know where you are?”
“You do not want your lackey?”
“Is he a sure man?”
“To the proof.”
“Give him to me. Nobody knows him. I will leave him at the place I quit, and he will conduct you to me.”
“And you say you will wait for me at Armentieres?”
“At Armentieres.”
“Write that name on a bit of paper, lest I should forget it. There is nothing compromising in the name of a town. Is it not so?”
“Eh, who knows? Never mind,” said Milady, writing the name on half a sheet of paper; “I will compromise myself.”
“Well,” said Rochefort, taking the paper from Milady, folding it, and placing it in the lining of his hat, “you may be easy. I will do as children do, for fear of losing the paper--repeat the name along the route. Now, is that all?”
“I believe so.”
“Let us see: Buckingham dead or grievously wounded; your conversation with the cardinal overheard by the four Musketeers; Lord de Winter warned of your arrival at Portsmouth; d’Artagnan and Athos to the Bastille; Aramis the lover of Madame de Chevreuse; Porthos an ass; Madame Bonacieux found again; to send you the chaise as soon as possible; to place my lackey at your disposal; to make you out a victim of the cardinal in order that the abbess may entertain no suspicion; Armentieres, on the banks of the Lys. Is that all, then?”
“In truth, my dear Chevalier, you are a miracle of memory. A PROPOS, add one thing--”
“What?”
“I saw some very pretty woods which almost touch the convent garden. Say that I am permitted to walk in those woods. Who knows? Perhaps I shall stand in need of a back door for retreat.”
“You think of everything.”
“And you forget one thing.”
“What?”
“To ask me if I want money.”
“That’s true. How much do you want?”
“All you have in gold.”
“I have five hundred pistoles, or thereabouts.”
“I have as much. With a thousand pistoles one may face everything. Empty your pockets.”
“There.”
“Right. And you go--”
“In an hour--time to eat a morsel, during which I shall send for a post horse.”
“Capital! Adieu, Chevalier.”
“Adieu, Countess.”
“Commend me to the cardinal.”
“Commend me to Satan.”
Milady and Rochefort exchanged a smile and separated. An hour afterward Rochefort set out at a grand gallop; five hours after that he passed through Arras.
Our readers already know how he was recognized by d’Artagnan, and how that recognition by inspiring fear in the four Musketeers had given fresh activity to their journey.
Rochefort had scarcely departed when Mme. Bonacieux re-entered. She found Milady with a smiling countenance.
“Well,” said the young woman, “what you dreaded has happened. This evening, or tomorrow, the cardinal will send someone to take you away.”
“Who told you that, my dear?” asked Milady.
“I heard it from the mouth of the messenger himself.”
“Come and sit down close to me,” said Milady.
“Here I am.”
“Wait till I assure myself that nobody hears us.”
“Why all these precautions?”
“You shall know.”
Milady arose, went to the door, opened it, looked in the corridor, and then returned and seated herself close to Mme. Bonacieux.
“Then,” said she, “he has well played his part.”
“Who has?”
“He who just now presented himself to the abbess as a messenger from the cardinal.”
“It was, then, a part he was playing?”
“Yes, my child.”
“That man, then, was not--”
“That man,” said Milady, lowering her voice, “is my brother.”
“Your brother!” cried Mme. Bonacieux.
“No one must know this secret, my dear, but yourself. If you reveal it to anyone in the world, I shall be lost, and perhaps yourself likewise.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Listen. This is what has happened: My brother, who was coming to my assistance to take me away by force if it were necessary, met with the emissary of the cardinal, who was coming in search of me. He followed him. At a solitary and retired part of the road he drew his sword, and required the messenger to deliver up to him the papers of which he was the bearer. The messenger resisted; my brother killed him.”
“Oh!” said Mme. Bonacieux, shuddering.
“Remember, that was the only means. Then my brother determined to substitute cunning for force. He took the papers, and presented himself here as the emissary of the cardinal, and in an hour or two a carriage will come to take me away by the orders of his Eminence.”
“I understand. It is your brother who sends this carriage.”
“Exactly; but that is not all. That letter you have received, and which you believe to be from Madame de Chevreuse--”
“Well?”
“It is a forgery.”
“How can that be?”
“Yes, a forgery; it is a snare to prevent your making any resistance when they come to fetch you.”
“But it is d’Artagnan that will come.”
“Do not deceive yourself. D’Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege of La Rochelle.”
“How do you know that?”
“My brother met some emissaries of the cardinal in the uniform of Musketeers. You would have been summoned to the gate; you would have believed yourself about to meet friends; you would have been abducted, and conducted back to Paris.”
“Oh, my God! My senses fail me amid such a chaos of iniquities. I feel, if this continues,” said Mme. Bonacieux, raising her hands to her forehead, “I shall go mad!”
“Stop--”
“What?”
“I hear a horse’s steps; it is my brother setting off again. I should like to offer him a last salute. Come!”
Milady opened the window, and made a sign to Mme. Bonacieux to join her. The young woman complied.
Rochefort passed at a gallop.
“Adieu, brother!” cried Milady.
The chevalier raised his head, saw the two young women, and without stopping, waved his hand in a friendly way to Milady.
“The good George!” said she, closing the window with an expression of countenance full of affection and melancholy. And she resumed her seat, as if plunged in reflections entirely personal.
“Dear lady,” said Mme. Bonacieux, “pardon me for interrupting you; but what do you advise me to do? Good heaven! You have more experience than I have. Speak; I will listen.”
“In the first place,” said Milady, “it is possible I may be deceived, and that d’Artagnan and his friends may really come to your assistance.”
“Oh, that would be too much!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, “so much happiness is not in store for me!”
“Then you comprehend it would be only a question of time, a sort of race, which should arrive first. If your friends are the more speedy, you are to be saved; if the satellites of the cardinal, you are lost.”
“Oh, yes, yes; lost beyond redemption! What, then, to do? What to do?”
“There would be a very simple means, very natural--”
“Tell me what!”
“To wait, concealed in the neighborhood, and assure yourself who are the men who come to ask for you.”
“But where can I wait?”
“Oh, there is no difficulty in that. I shall stop and conceal myself a few leagues hence until my brother can rejoin me. Well, I take you with me; we conceal ourselves, and wait together.”
“But I shall not be allowed to go; I am almost a prisoner.”
“As they believe that I go in consequence of an order from the cardinal, no one will believe you anxious to follow me.”
“Well?”
“Well! The carriage is at the door; you bid me adieu; you mount the step to embrace me a last time; my brother’s servant, who comes to fetch me, is told how to proceed; he makes a sign to the postillion, and we set off at a gallop.”
“But d’Artagnan! D’Artagnan! if he comes?”
“Shall we not know it?”
“How?”
“Nothing easier. We will send my brother’s servant back to Bethune, whom, as I told you, we can trust. He shall assume a disguise, and place himself in front of the convent. If the emissaries of the cardinal arrive, he will take no notice; if it is Monsieur d’Artagnan and his friends, he will bring them to us.”
“He knows them, then?”
“Doubtless. Has he not seen Monsieur d’Artagnan at my house?”
“Oh, yes, yes; you are right. Thus all may go well--all may be for the best; but we do not go far from this place?”
“Seven or eight leagues at the most. We will keep on the frontiers, for instance; and at the first alarm we can leave France.”
“And what can we do there?”
“Wait.”
“But if they come?”
“My brother’s carriage will be here first.”
“If I should happen to be any distance from you when the carriage comes for you--at dinner or supper, for instance?”
“Do one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Tell your good superior that in order that we may be as much together as possible, you ask her permission to share my repast.”
“Will she permit it?”
“What
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