She was awakened by a gentle voice sounding at the foot of her bed. She opened her eyes, and saw the abbess, accompanied by a young woman with light hair and a delicate complexion, who was giving her a look full of benevolent curiosity.
The young woman’s face was quite unknown to her. Each examined the other with great attention while exchanging the customary compliments. Both were very handsome, but of quite different styles of beauty. Milady, however, smiled on observing that she excelled the young woman by far in her noble air and aristocratic bearing. To be sure, the novice’s habit which the young woman wore was not very advantageous in sustaining a contest of this kind.
The abbess introduced them to each other. Then when this formality was accomplished, as her duties called her to the church, she left the two young women alone.
Suddenly realization came to milady.
“I know you,” she said. “You are Madame Bonacieux.”
The young woman drew back in surprise and terror.
“Oh, do not deny it! Answer!” continued milady.
“Well, yes, madame!” said the novice.
Milady’s face was illumined by such a savage joy that in any other circumstances Madame Bonacieux would have fled in terror. But she was absorbed by her jealousy.
“Speak, madame!” resumed Madame Bonacieux, with an energy of which one would not have thought her capable.
“Do you not understand?” said milady, who had already overcome her agitation and recovered all her presence of mind.
“How can I understand? I know nothing.”
“Can you not understand that M. d’Artagnan, being my friend, might take me into his confidence?”
“Indeed!”
“Do you not perceive that I know all—your being carried off from the little house at St. Germain, his despair, that of his friends, and their useless inquiries from that moment? How could I help being astonished when, without having the least expectation of such a thing, I meet you face to face—you of whom we have so often spoken together, you whom he loves with all his soul, you whom he had taught me to love before I had seen you! Ah, dear Constance, I have found you, then; I see you at last!”
And milady stretched out her arms to Madame Bonacieux, who, convinced by what she had just said, saw nothing in this woman but a sincere and devoted friend.
At that moment the galloping of a horse was heard.
“Oh!” cried Madame Bonacieux, darting to the window, “can it be he already?”
Milady stayed in bed, petrified by surprise. So many unexpected things were happening to her all at once that for the first time she was at a loss.
“D’ Artagnan!” murmured she; “can it be he?” And she remained in bed with her eyes staring.
“Hush!” said Madame Bonacieux; “some one is coming.”
In fact, the door opened, and the mother-superior entered.
“Did you come from Boulogne?” demanded she of milady.
“Yes, I did,” replied she, trying to recover her self-possession. “Who wants me?”
“A man who will not tell his name, but who comes from the cardinal.”
“And wishes to speak with me?” asked milady.
“He wishes to speak to a lady just come from Boulogne.”
“Then let him come in, if you please.”
“Oh, my God, my God! my God!” cried Madame Bonacieux; “can it be any bad news?”
“I am afraid so.”
