“Oh, my God, no!” said Lord de Winter, with apparent good nature. “You wish to see me, and you come to England. I learn this desire, or rather I suspect that you feel it; and in order to spare you all the annoyances of a nocturnal arrival in a port and all the fatigues of landing, I send one of my officers to meet you, I place a carriage at his orders, and he brings you hither to this castle, of which I am governor, whither I come every day, and where, in order to satisfy our mutual desire of seeing each other, I have prepared you a chamber. What is there more astonishing in all that I have said to you than in what you have told me?”
“No; what I think astonishing is that you should expect my coming.”
“And yet that is the most simple thing in the world, my dear sister. Have you not observed that the captain of your little vessel, on entering the roadstead, sent forward, in order to obtain permission to enter the port, a little boat bearing his logbook and the register of his voyagers? I am commandant of the port. They brought me that book. I recognized your name in it. My heart told me what your mouth has just confirmed–that is to say, with what view you have exposed yourself to the dangers of a sea so perilous, or at least so troublesome at this moment–and I sent my cutter to meet you. You know the rest.”
Milady knew that Lord de Winter lied, and she was the more alarmed.
“My brother,” continued she, “was not that my Lord Buckingham whom I saw on the jetty this evening as we arrived?”
“Himself. Ah, I can understand how the sight of him struck you,” replied Lord de Winter. “You came from a country where he must be very much talked of, and I know that his armaments against France greatly engage the attention of your friend the cardinal.”
“My friend the cardinal!” cried Milady, seeing that on this point as on the other Lord de Winter seemed well instructed.
“Is he not your friend?” replied the baron, negligently. “Ah, pardon! I thought so; but we will return to my Lord Duke presently. Let us not depart from the sentimental turn our conversation had taken. You came, you say, to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I reply that you shall be served to the height of your wishes, and that we shall see each other every day.”
“Am I, then, to remain here eternally?” demanded Milady, with a certain terror.
“Do you find yourself badly lodged, sister? Demand anything you want, and I will hasten to have you furnished with it.”
“But I have neither my women nor my servants.”
“You shall have all, madame. Tell me on what footing your household was established by your first husband, and although I am only your brother-in-law, I will arrange one similar.”
“My first husband!” cried Milady, looking at Lord de Winter with eyes almost starting from their sockets.
“Yes, your French husband. I don’t speak of my brother. If you have forgotten, as he is still living, I can write to him and he will send me information on the subject.”
A cold sweat burst from the brow of Milady.
“You jest!” said she, in a hollow voice.
“Do I look so?” asked the baron, rising and going a step backward.
“Or rather you insult me,” continued she, pressing with her stiffened hands the two arms of her easy chair, and raising herself upon her wrists.
“I insult you!” said Lord de Winter, with contempt. “In truth, madame, do you think that can be possible?”
“Indeed, sir,” said Milady, “you must be either drunk or mad. Leave the room, and send me a woman.”
“Women are very indiscreet, my sister. Cannot I serve you as a waiting maid? By that means all our secrets will remain in the family.”
“Insolent!” cried Milady; and as if acted upon by a spring, she bounded toward the baron, who awaited her attack with his arms crossed, but nevertheless with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Come!” said he. “I know you are accustomed to assassinate people; but I warn you I shall defend myself, even against you.”