But making La Valliere pale did not satisfy Athenais; she determined to make her blush likewise. Resuming the conversation without pause, “Do you know, Louise,” said she, “that that is a great sin on your conscience?”
“What sin, Mademoiselle?” stammered the unfortunate girl, looking round her for support, without finding it.
“Eh! why?” continued Athenais, “the poor young man was affianced to you; he loved you, you cast him off.”
“Well, and that is a right every honest woman has,” said Montalais, in an affected tone. “When we know we cannot constitute the happiness of a man, it is much better to cast him off.”
“Cast him off! refuse him!- that’s all very well,” said Athenais, “but that is not the sin with which Mademoiselle de la Valliere has to reproach herself. The actual sin is sending poor Bragelonne to the wars; and to wars in which death is to be met.”
Louise pressed her hand over her icy brow. “And if he dies,” continued her pitiless tormentor; “you will have killed him. That is the sin.”
Louise, half-dead, caught at the arm of the captain of the Musketeers, whose face betrayed unusual emotion. “You wished to speak with me, M. d’Artagnan,” said she, in a voice broken by anger and pain. “What had you to say to me?”
D’Artagnan made several steps along the gallery, supporting Louise on his arm; then, when they were far enough removed from the others, “What I had to say to you, Mademoiselle,” replied he, “Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente has just expressed; roughly and unkindly, it is true, but still in its entirety.”
She uttered a faint cry; pierced to the heart by this new wound, she went on her way like one of those poor birds which, fatally injured, seek the shade of the thicket to die. She disappeared at one door at the moment the King was entering by another. The first glance of the King was directed towards the empty seat of his mistress. Not perceiving La Valliere, a frown came over his brow; but immediately he saw d’Artagnan, who saluted him. “Ah, Monsieur!” cried he, “you have been diligent! I am pleased with you.” This was the superlative expression of royal satisfaction. Many men would have been ready to lay down their lives for such a speech from the King. The maids of honor and the courtiers, who had formed a respectful circle round the King on his entrance, drew back on observing that he wished to speak privately with his captain of the Musketeers. The King led the way out of the gallery, after having again, with his eyes, sought everywhere for La Valliere, for whose absence he could not account. The moment they were out of the reach of curious ears, “Well! M. d’Artagnan,” said he, “the prisoner?”
“Is in his prison, Sire.”
“What did he say on the road?”
“Nothing, Sire.”
“What did he do?”
“There was a moment at which the fisherman who took me in his boat to Ste. Marguerite revolted, and did his best to kill me. The- the prisoner defended me instead of attempting to fly.”
The King became pale. “Enough!” said he; and d’Artagnan bowed. Louis walked about his cabinet with hasty steps. “Were you at Antibes,” said he, “when M. de Beaufort came there?”
“No, Sire; I was setting off when Monsieur the Duke arrived.”
“Ah!”- which was followed by a fresh silence. “Whom did you see there?”
“A great many persons,” said d’Artagnan, coolly.
The King perceived that he was unwilling to speak. “I have sent for you, Monsieur the Captain, to desire you to go and prepare my lodgings at Nantes.”
“At Nantes!” cried d’Artagnan.
“In Bretagne.”
“Yes, Sire, it is in Bretagne. Will your Majesty make so long a journey as to Nantes?”
“The States are assembled there,” replied the King. “I have two demands to make of them; I wish to be there.”
“When shall I set out?” said the captain.
“This evening- to-morrow- tomorrow evening; for you must stand in need of rest.”
“I have rested, Sire.”
“That is well. Then between this and to-morrow evening, when you please.”
D’Artagnan bowed as if to take his leave; but perceiving that the King was very much embarrassed, “Will your Majesty,” said he, stepping two paces forward, “take the court with you?”