“She was sent to me by someone of high rank, under the name of Kitty.  I have not tried to discover her other name.”

“Kitty!” cried Milady.  “What?  Are you sure?”

“That she is called so?  Yes, madame.  Do you know her?”

Milady smiled to herself at the idea which had occurred to her that this might be her old chambermaid.  There was connected with the remembrance of this girl a remembrance of anger; and a desire of vengeance disordered the features of Milady, which, however, immediately recovered the calm and benevolent expression which this woman of a hundred faces had for a moment allowed them to lose.

“And when can I see this young lady, for whom I already feel so great a sympathy?” asked Milady.

“Why, this evening,” said the abbess; “today even.  But you have been traveling these four days, as you told me yourself.  This morning you rose at five o’clock; you must stand in need of repose.  Go to bed and sleep; at dinnertime we will rouse you.”

Although Milady would very willingly have gone without sleep, sustained as she was by all the excitements which a new adventure awakened in her heart, ever thirsting for intrigues, she nevertheless accepted the offer of the superior.  During the last fifteen days she had experienced so many and such various emotions that if her frame of iron was still capable of supporting fatigue, her mind required repose.

She therefore took leave of the abbess, and went to bed, softly rocked by the ideas of vengeance which the name of Kitty had naturally brought to her thoughts.  She remembered that almost unlimited promise which the cardinal had given her if she succeeded in her enterprise.  She had succeeded; d’Artagnan was then in her power!

One thing alone frightened her; that was the remembrance of her husband, the Comte de la Fere, whom she had believed dead, or at least expatriated, and whom she found again in Athos-the best friend of d’Artagnan.

But alas, if he was the friend of d’Artagnan, he must have lent him his assistance in all the proceedings by whose aid the queen had defeated the project of his Eminence; if he was the friend of d’Artagnan, he was the enemy of the cardinal; and she doubtless would succeed in involving him in the vengeance by which she hoped to destroy the young Musketeer.

All these hopes were so many sweet thoughts for Milady; so, rocked by them, she soon fell asleep.

She was awakened by a soft voice which sounded at the foot of her bed.  She opened her eyes, and saw the abbess, accompanied by a young woman with light hair and delicate complexion, who fixed upon her a look full of benevolent curiosity.

The face of the young woman was entirely 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 in observing that she excelled the young woman by far in her high air and aristocratic bearing.  It is true that the habit of a novice, which the young woman wore, was not very advantageous in a contest of this kind.