hat leading
to the staircase, he buried himself amid the robes and dressing gowns of
Milady.

"What are you doing?" cried Kitty.

D'Artagnan, who had secured the key, shut himself up in the closet
without reply.

"Well," cried Milady, in a sharp voice. "Are you asleep, that you don't
answer when I ring?"

And d'Artagnan heard the door of communication opened violently.

"Here am I, Milady, here am I!" cried Kitty, springing forward to meet
her mistress.

Both went into the bedroom, and as the door of communication remained
open, d'Artagnan could hear Milady for some time scolding her maid. She
was at length appeased, and the conversation turned upon him while Kitty
was assisting her mistress.

"Well," said Milady, "I have not seen our Gascon this evening."

"What, Milady! has he not come?" said Kitty. "Can he be inconstant
before being happy?"

"Oh, no; he must have been prevented by Monsieur de Treville or Monsieur
Dessessart. I understand my game, Kitty; I have this one safe."

"What will you do with him, madame?"

"What will I do with him? Be easy, Kitty, there is something between
that man and me that he is quite ignorant of: he nearly made me lose my
credit with his Eminence. Oh, I will be revenged!"

"I believed that Madame loved him."

"I love him? I detest him! An idiot, who held the life of Lord de Winter
in his hands and did not kill him, by which I missed three hundred
thousand livres' income."

"That's true," said Kitty; "your son was the only heir of his uncle, and
until his majority you would have had the enjoyment of his fortune."

D'Artagnan shuddered to the marrow at hearing this suave creature
reproach him, with that sharp voice which she took such pains to conceal
in conversation, for not having killed a man whom he had seen load her
with kindnesses.

"For all this," continued Milady, "I should long ago have revenged
myself on him if, and I don't know why, the cardinal had not requested
me to conciliate him."

"Oh, yes; but Madame has not conciliated that little woman he was so
fond of."

"What, the mercer's wife of the Rue des Fossoyeurs? Has he not already
forgotten she ever existed? Fine vengeance that, on my faith!"

A cold sweat broke from d'Artagnan's brow. Why, this woman was a
monster! He resumed his listening, but unfortunately the toilet was
finished.

"That will do," said Milady; "go into your own room, and tomorrow
endeavor again to get me an answer to the lette