window blinds, and invaded the chamber with its paleness. Seeing
d'Artagnan about to leave her, Milady recalled his promise to avenge her
on the Comte de Wardes.

"I am quite ready," said d'Artagnan; "but in the first place I should
like to be certain of one thing."

"And what is that?" asked Milady.

"That is, whether you really love me?"

"I have given you proof of that, it seems to me."

"And I am yours, body and soul!"

"Thanks, my brave lover; but as you are satisfied of my love, you must,
in your turn, satisfy me of yours. Is it not so?"

"Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say," replied d'Artagnan,
"do you not entertain a little fear on my account?"

"What have I to fear?"

"Why, that I may be dangerously wounded--killed even."

"Impossible!" cried Milady, "you are such a valiant man, and such an
expert swordsman."

"You would not, then, prefer a method," resumed d'Artagnan, "which would
equally avenge you while rendering the combat useless?"

Milady looked at her lover in silence. The pale light of the first rays
of day gave to her clear eyes a strangely frightful expression.

"Really," said she, "I believe you now begin to hesitate."

"No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte de Wardes,
since you have ceased to love him. I think that a man must be so
severely punished by the loss of your love that he stands in need of no
other chastisement."

"Who told you that I loved him?" asked Milady, sharply.

"At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too much fatuity,
that you love another," said the young man, in a caressing tone, "and I
repeat that I am really interested for the count."

"You?" asked Milady.

"Yes, I."

"And why YOU?"

"Because I alone know--"

"What?"

"That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guilty toward you
as he appears."

"Indeed!" said Milady, in an anxious tone; "explain yourself, for I
really cannot tell what you mean."

And she looked at d'Artagnan, who embraced her tenderly, with eyes which
seemed to burn themselves away.

"Yes; I am a man of honor," said d'Artagnan, determined to come to an
end, "and since your love is mine, and I am satisfied I possess it--for
I do possess it, do I not?"

"Entirely; go on."

"Well, I feel as if transformed--a confession weighs on my mind."

"A confession!"

"If I had the least doubt of your love I would not make it, but you love
me, my beautiful mistress, do you not?"