“You are mistaken, Monsieur,” replied Raoul; “the woman I mean will tell me all the evil she possibly can.”
“Montalais, I’ll wager.”
“Yes, Montalais.”
“Ah! her friend, a woman who in that capacity will exaggerate all that is either bad or good in the matter. Do not talk to Montalais, my good Raoul.”
“You have some reason for wishing me not to talk with Montalais?”
“Well, I admit it. And, in point of fact, why should I play with you as a cat does with a poor mouse? You distress me,- you do indeed. And if I wish you not to speak to Montalais just now, it is because you will be betraying your secret, and people will take advantage of it. Wait, if you can!”
“I cannot.”
“So much the worse. Why, you see, Raoul, if I had an idea- but I have not got one.”
“Promise that you will pity me, my friend,- that is all I need,- and leave me to get out of the affair by myself.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, in order that you may get deeper into the mire! A capital idea, truly! Go and sit down at that table and take a pen in your hand.”
“What for?”
“To write to ask Montalais to give you an interview.”
“Ah!” said Raoul, snatching eagerly at the pen which the captain held out to him.
Suddenly the door opened; and one of the musketeers, approaching d’Artagnan, said, “Captain, Mademoiselle de Montalais is here, and wishes to speak to you.”
“To me?” murmured d’Artagnan. “Ask her to come in. I shall soon see,” he said to himself, “whether she wishes to speak to me or not.”
The cunning captain was quite right in his suspicions; for as soon as Montalais entered, she saw Raoul and exclaimed, “Monsieur! Monsieur!- I beg your pardon, M. d’Artagnan.”
“Oh, I forgive you, Mademoiselle,” said d’Artagnan; “I know that at my age those who look for me have great need of me.”
“I was looking for M. de Bragelonne,” replied Montalais.
“How fortunate! and I was looking for you!”
“Raoul, won’t you accompany Mademoiselle Montalais?”
“Oh, certainly!”
“Go along, then,” he said, as he gently pushed Raoul out of the cabinet; and then taking hold of Montalais’s hand, he said in a low voice, “Be kind towards him; spare him, and spare her too.”
“Ah!” she said in the same tone of voice, “it is not I who will speak to him.”
“Who, then?”
“It is Madame who has sent for him.”
“Very good,” cried d’Artagnan; “it is Madame, is it? In an hour’s time, then, the poor fellow will be cured.”
“Or else dead,” said Montalais, in a voice full of compassion. “Adieu, M. d’Artagnan!” she said; and she ran to join Raoul, who was waiting for her at a little distance from the door, very much puzzled and uneasy at the dialogue, which promised no good to him.
Chapter XIII: Two Jealousies
LOVERS are very tender towards everything which concerns the person with whom they are in love. Raoul no sooner found himself alone with Montalais than he kissed her hand with rapture. “There, there,” said the young girl, sadly, “you are throwing your kisses away; I will guarantee that they will not bring you back any interest.”
“How so? Why? Will you explain to me, my dear Aure?”
“Madame will explain everything to you. I am going to take you to her apartments.”
“What!”
“Silence! and throw aside your wild and savage looks. The windows here have eyes; the walls have ears. Have the kindness not to look at me any longer; be good enough to speak to me aloud of the rain, of the fine weather, and of the charms of England.”
“At all events-” interrupted Raoul.
“I tell you, I warn you, that somewhere, I know not where, Madame is sure to have eyes and ears open. I am not very desirous, you can easily believe, to be dismissed or thrown into the Bastille. Let us talk, I tell you; or rather, do not let us talk at all.”
Raoul clinched his hands, and assumed the look and gait of a man of courage, but of a man of courage on his way to the torture. Montalais, glancing in every direction, walking along with an easy swinging gait, and holding up her head pertly in the air, preceded him to Madame’s apartments, where he was at once introduced. “Well,” he thought, “this day will pass away without my learning anything. De Guiche had too much consideration for my feelings. He has no doubt an understanding with Madame; and both of them, by a friendly plot, have agreed to postpone the solution of the problem. Why have I not here a good enemy,- that serpent De Wardes, for instance? That he would bite is very likely, but I should not hesitate any more. To hesitate, to doubt,- better by far to die!”