to think about but the dead.
As Porthos and Aramis were undressing him, in the hope of finding his wound not mortal, a large purse dropped from his clothes. D’Artagnan picked it up and offered it to Lord de Winter.
“What the devil would you have me do with that?” said the Englishman.
“You can restore it to his family,” said d’Artagnan.
“His family will care much about such a trifle as that! His family will inherit fifteen thousand louis a year from him. Keep the purse for your lackeys.”
D’Artagnan put the purse into his pocket.
“And now, my young friend, for you will permit me, I hope, to give you that name,” said Lord de Winter, “on this very evening, if agreeable to you, I will present you to my sister, Milady Clarik, for I am desirous that she should take you into her good graces; and as she is not in bad odor at court, she may perhaps on some future day speak a word that will not prove useless to you.”
D’Artagnan blushed with pleasure, and bowed a sign of assent.
At this time Athos came up to d’Artagnan.
“What do you mean to do with that purse?” whispered he.
“Why, I meant to pass it over to you, my dear Athos.”
“Me! why to me?”
“Why, you killed him! They are the spoils of victory.”
“I, the heir of an enemy!” said Athos; “for whom, then, do you take me?”
“It is the custom in war,” said d’Artagnan, “why should it not be the custom in a duel?”
“Even on the field of battle, I have never done that.”
Porthos shrugged his shoulders; Aramis by a movement of his lips endorsed Athos.
“Then,” said d’Artagnan, “let us give the money to the lackeys, as Lord de Winter desired us to do.”
“Yes,” said Athos; “let us give the money to the lackeys—not to our lackeys, but to the lackeys of the Englishmen.”
Athos took the purse, and threw it into the hand of the coachman. “For you and your comrades.”
This greatness of spirit in a man who was quite destitute struck even Porthos; and this French generosity, repeated by Lord de Winter and his friend, was highly applauded, except by MM Grimaud, Bazin, Mousqueton and Planchet.
Lord de Winter, on quitting d’Artagnan, gave him his sister’s address. She lived in the Place Royale—then the fashionable quarter—at Number 6, and he undertook to call and take d’Artagnan with him in order to introduce him. D’Artagnan appointed eight o’clock at Athos’s residence.
This introduction to Milady Clarik occupied the head of our Gascon greatly. He remembered in what a strange manner this woman had hitherto been mixed up in his destiny. According to his conviction, she was some creature of the cardinal, and yet he felt himself invincibly drawn toward her by one of those sentiments for which we cannot account. His only fear was that Milady would recognize in him the man of Meung and of Dover. Then she knew that he was one of the friends of M. de Treville, and consequently, that he belonged body and soul to the king; which would make him lose a part of his advantage, since when known to Milady as he knew her, he played only an equal game with her. As to the commencement of an intrigue between her and M. de Wardes, our presumptuous hero gave but little heed to that, although the marquis was young, handsome, rich, and high in the cardinal’s favor. It is not for nothing we are but twenty years old, above all if we were born at Tarbes.
D’Artagnan began by making his most splendid toilet, then returned to Athos’s, and according to custom, related everything to him. Athos listened to his projects, then shook his head, and recommended prudence to him with a shade of bitterness.
“What!” said he, “you have just lost one woman, whom you call good, charming, perfect; and here you are, running headlong after another.”
D’Artagnan felt the truth of this reproach.
“I loved Madame Bonacieux with my heart, while I only love Milady with my head,” said he. “In getting introduced to her, my principal object is to ascertain what part she plays at court.”
“The part she plays, PARDIEU! It is not difficult to divine that, after all you have told me. She is some emissary of the cardinal; a woman who will draw you into a snare in which you will leave your head.”
“The devil! my dear Athos, you view things on the dark side, methinks.”
“My dear fellow, I mistrust women. Can it be otherwise? I bought my experience dearly—particularly fair women. Milady is fair, you say?”
“She has the most beautiful light hair imaginable!”
“Ah, my poor d’Artagnan!” said Athos.
“Listen to me! I want to be enlightened on a subject; then, when I shall have learned what I desire to know, I will withdraw.”
“Be enlightened!” said Athos, phlegmatically.
Lord de Winter arrived at the appointed time; but Athos, being warned of his coming, went into the other chamber. He therefore found d’Artagnan alone, and as it was nearly eight o’clock he took the young man with him.
An elegant carriage waited below, and as it was drawn by two excellent horses, they were soon at the Place Royale.
Milady Clarik received d’Artagnan ceremoniously. Her hotel was remarkably sumptuous, and while the most part of the English had quit, or were about to quit, France on account of the war, Milady had just been laying out much money upon her residence; which proved that the general measure which drove the English from France did not affect her.
“You see,” said Lord de Winter, presenting d’Artagnan to his sister, “a young gentleman who has held my life in his hands, and who has not abused his advantage, although we have been twice enemies, although it was I who insulted him, and although I am an Englishman. Thank him, then, madame, if you have any affection for me.”
Milady frowned slightly; a scarcely visible cloud passed over her brow, and so peculiar a smile appeared upon her lips that the young man, who saw and observed this triple shade, almost shuddered at it.
The brother did not perceive this; he had turned round to play with Milady’s favorite monkey, which had pulled him by the doublet.
“You are welcome, monsieur,” said Milady, in a voice whose singular sweetness contrasted with the symptoms of ill-humor which d’Artagnan had just remarked; “you have today acquired eternal rights to my gratitude.”
The Englishman then turned round and described the combat without omitting a single detail. Milady listened with the greatest attention, and yet it was easily to be perceived, whatever effort she made to conceal her impressions, that this recital was not agreeable to her. The blood rose to her head, and her little foot worked with impatience beneath her robe.
Lord de Winter perceived nothing
