n any case have replied to them.

But now I am forced to believe in the excess of your kindness, since
not only your letter but your servant assures me that I have the good
fortune to be beloved by you.

She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a man of spirit may
obtain his pardon. I will come and ask mine at eleven o'clock this
evening.

To delay it a single day would be in my eyes now to commit a fresh
offense.

From him whom you have rendered the happiest of men, Comte de Wardes

This note was in the first place a forgery; it was likewise an
indelicacy. It was even, according to our present manners, something
like an infamous action; but at that period people did not manage
affairs as they do today. Besides, d'Artagnan from her own admission
knew Milady culpable of treachery in matters more important, and could
entertain no respect for her. And yet, notwithstanding this want of
respect, he felt an uncontrollable passion for this woman boiling in his
veins--passion drunk with contempt; but passion or thirst, as the reader
pleases.

D'Artagnan's plan was very simple. By Kitty's chamber he could gain
that of her mistress. He would take advantage of the first moment of
surprise, shame, and terror, to triumph over her. He might fail, but
something must be left to chance. In eight days the campaign would open,
and he would be compelled to leave Paris; d'Artagnan had no time for a
prolonged love siege.

"There," said the young man, handing Kitty the letter sealed; "give that
to Milady. It is the count's reply."

Poor Kitty became as pale as death; she suspected what the letter
contained.

"Listen, my dear girl," said d'Artagnan; "you cannot but perceive that
all this must end, some way or other. Milady may discover that you gave
the first billet to my lackey instead of to the count's; that it is I
who have opened the others which ought to have been opened by de Wardes.
Milady will then turn you out of doors, and you know she is not the
woman to limit her vengeance."

"Alas!" said Kitty, "for whom have I exposed myself to all that?"

"For me, I well know, my sweet girl," said d'Artagnan. "But I am
grateful, I swear to you."

"But what does this note contain?"

"Milady will tell you."

"Ah, you do not love me!" cried Kitty, "and I am very wretched."

To this reproach there is always one response which deludes women.
D'Artagnan replied in such a manner that Kitty remained in her great
delusion.