After a moment’s watching from behind the hedge he heard the noise of a carriage, and saw milady’s coach stop in front of him. He could not be mistaken; milady was in it. D’Artagnan bent over on his horse’s neck in order to see everything without being seen.
Milady put her charming fair head out at the window, and gave some orders to her maid.
D’Artagnan followed the maid with his eyes, and saw her going towards the terrace. But it happened that some one in the house had called Lubin, so that Planchet remained alone, looking in all directions for D’Artagnan.
The maid approached Planchet, whom she took for Lubin, and holding out a little note to him,
“For your master,” said she.
Thereupon she ran toward the carriage, which had turned round in the direction it had come; she jumped on the step, and the carriage drove off.
Planchet turned the note over and over; then, accustomed to passive obedience, he jumped down from the terrace, ran through the lane, and at the end of twenty paces met D’Artagnan, who, having seen all, was coming to him.
“D’Artagnan opened the letter and read these words:
“A person who takes more interest in you than she is willing to confess wishes to know on what day you will be in condition to walk in the forest. To-morrow, at the H?tel Field of the Cloth of Gold, a lackey in black and red will wait for your reply.”
“Oh, ho!” said D’Artagnan, “this is rather lively. It appears that milady and I are anxious about the health of the same person.—Well, Planchet, how is our good M. de Wardes? He is not dead, then?”
“Oh no, monsieur; he is as well as a man can be with four sword-wounds in his body—for you, without question, inflicted four upon the dear gentleman, and he is still very weak, having lost almost all his blood. As I told you, Lubin did not know me, and he related to me our adventure from one end to the other.”
“Well done, Planchet! you are the king of lackeys. Now jump up on your horse, and let us overtake the carriage.”
This they soon did. At the end of five minutes they perceived the carriage drawn up by the roadside. A cavalier richly dressed was close to the coach door.
The conversation between milady and the cavalier was so animated that D’Artagnan stopped on the other side of the carriage without any one but the pretty maid being aware of his presence.
The conversation took place in English—a language which D’Artagnan could not understand; but by the accent the young man plainly saw that the beautiful Englishwoman was in a great rage. She terminated it by a gesture which left no doubt as to the nature of this conversation: this was a blow with her fan, applied with such force that the little feminine weapon flew into a thousand pieces.
The cavalier broke into a loud laugh, which appeared to exasperate milady.
D’Artagnan thought this was the moment to interfere. He approached the other door, and taking off his hat respectfully,
“Madame,” said he, “will you permit me to offer you my services? This cavalier seems to have made you very angry. Speak one word, madame, and I will take it on myself to punish him for his lack of courtesy.”
At the first word milady turned round, looking at the young man in astonishment; and when he had finished,
“Sir,” said she, in very good French, “I should with great confidence place myself under your protection, if the person who is picking a quarrel with me were not my brother.”
“Ah, excuse me, then,” said D’Artagnan; “you must be aware that I was ignorant of that, madame.”
“What is that presumptuous fellow troubling himself about?” cried the cavalier whom milady had designated as her brother, stooping down to the height of the coach window, “and why does he not go on?”
“Presumptuous fellow yourself!” said D’Artagnan, also bending down on his horse’s neck and answering through the carriage window. “I do not go on because it pleases me to stop here.”
You might think that milady, timid as women are in general, would have interposed at this beginning of mutual provocations in order to prevent the quarrel from going too far; but, on the contrary, she threw herself back in her carriage, and called out coolly to the coachman, “Drive home!”
The pretty maid cast an anxious glance at D’Artagnan, whose good looks seemed to have produced an impression on her.
The carriage went on, and left the two men face to face, no material obstacle separating them any longer.
“Well, sir,” said D’Artagnan, “you appear to be more presumptuous that I am, for you forget there is a little quarrel to arrange between us.”
“You see well enough that I have no sword,” said the Englishman. “Do you wish to play the braggart with an unarmed man?”
“I hope you have a sword at home,” replied D’Artagnan. “But, at all events, I have two, and if you like I will throw with you for one of them.”
“Quite unnecessary,” said the Englishman; “I am well furnished with such sorts of playthings.”
“Very well, my worthy gentleman,” replied D’Artagnan; “pick out the longest, and come and show it to me this evening.”
“Where?”
“Behind the Luxembourg. That’s a charming place for such strolls as the one I propose to you.”
“Very well; I will be there.”
“Your hour?”
“Six o’clock. Now, then, who are you?” asked the Englishman.
“I am M. D’Artagnan, a Gascon gentleman, serving in the guards, in the company of M. des Essarts. And you?”
“I am Lord Winter, Baron of Sheffield.”
“Well, then, I am your servant, baron,” said D’Artagnan, “though your names are rather difficult to remember.”
And touching his horse with his spur, he galloped back to Paris.
And D’Artagnan employed himself in arranging a little plan, the carrying out of which we shall see later on, and which promised him an agreeable adventure, as might be seen by the smiles which from time to time passed over his countenance, lighting up his thoughtful expression.
