to her mistress, and did not leave the door open; but the
partition was so thin that one could hear nearly all that passed between
the two women.

Milady seemed overcome with joy, and made Kitty repeat the smallest
details of the pretended interview of the soubrette with de Wardes when
he received the letter; how he had responded; what was the expression
of his face; if he seemed very amorous. And to all these questions poor
Kitty, forced to put on a pleasant face, responded in a stifled voice
whose dolorous accent her mistress did not however remark, solely
because happiness is egotistical.

Finally, as the hour for her interview with the count approached, Milady
had everything about her darkened, and ordered Kitty to return to her
own chamber, and introduce de Wardes whenever he presented himself.

Kitty's detention was not long. Hardly had d'Artagnan seen, through a
crevice in his closet, that the whole apartment was in obscurity,
than he slipped out of his concealment, at the very moment when Kitty
reclosed the door of communication.

"What is that noise?" demanded Milady.

"It is I," said d'Artagnan in a subdued voice, "I, the Comte de Wardes."

"Oh, my God, my God!" murmured Kitty, "he has not even waited for the
hour he himself named!"

"Well," said Milady, in a trembling voice, "why do you not enter? Count,
Count," added she, "you know that I wait for you."

At this appeal d'Artagnan drew Kitty quietly away, and slipped into the
chamber.

If rage or sorrow ever torture the heart, it is when a lover receives
under a name which is not his own protestations of love addressed to
his happy rival. D'Artagnan was in a dolorous situation which he had not
foreseen. Jealousy gnawed his heart; and he suffered almost as much as
poor Kitty, who at that very moment was crying in the next chamber.

"Yes, Count," said Milady, in her softest voice, and pressing his hand
in her own, "I am happy in the love which your looks and your words
have expressed to me every time we have met. I also--I love you. Oh,
tomorrow, tomorrow, I must have some pledge from you which will prove
that you think of me; and that you may not forget me, take this!"
and she slipped a ring from her finger onto d'Artagnan's. d'Artagnan
remembered having seen this ring on the finger of Milady; it was a
magnificent sapphire, encircled with brilliants.

The first movement of d'Artagnan was to return it, but Milady added,
"No, no! Keep that ring for