"The two travelers knocked at the door. It was late; the priest, who had gone to bed, cried out to them to come in.
They entered, for the door was not locked -- there is much confidence among villagers. A lamp burned in the chamber occupied by the priest. Marie Michon, who made the most charming cavalier in the world, pushed open the door, put her head in and asked for hospitality. `Willingly, my young cavalier,' said the priest, `if you will be content with the remains of my supper and with half my chamber.'
"The two travelers consulted for a moment. The priest heard a burst of laughter and then the master, or rather, the mistress, replied: `Thank you, monsieur le cure, I accept.'
`Sup, then, and make as little noise as possible,' said the priest, `for I, too, have been on the go all day and shall not be sorry to sleep to-night.'"
Madame de Chevreuse evidently went from surprise to astonishment, and from astonishment to stupefaction. Her face, as she looked at Athos, had taken on an expression that cannot be described. It could be seen that she had wished to speak, but she had remained silent through fear of losing one of her companion's words.
"What happened then?" she asked.
"Then?" said Athos. "Ah, I have come now to what is most difficult."
"Speak, speak! One can say anything to me. Besides, it doesn't concern me; it relates to Mademoiselle Marie Michon."
"Ah, that is true," said Athos. "Well, then, Marie Michon had supper with her follower, and then, in accordance with the permission given her, she entered the chamber of her host, Kitty meanwhile taking possession of an armchair in the room first entered, where they had taken their supper."
"Really, monsieur," said Madame de Chevreuse, "unless you are the devil in person I don't know how you could become acquainted with all these details."
"A charming woman was that Marie Michon," resumed Athos, "one of those wild creatures who are constantly conceiving the strangest ideas. Now, thinking that her host was a priest, that coquette took it into her head that it would be a happy souvenir for her old age, among the many happy souvenirs she already possessed, if she could win that of having damned an abbe."
"Count," said the duchess, "upon my word, you frighten me."
"Alas!" continued Athos, "the poor abbe was not a St.
Ambroise, and I repeat, Marie Michon was an adorable creature."
"Monsieur!" cried the duchess, seizing Athos's hands, "tell me this moment how you know all these details, or I will send to the convent of the Vieux Augustins for a monk to come and exorcise you."
Athos laughed. "Nothing is easier, madame. A cavalier, charged with an important mission, had come an hour before your arrival, seeking hospitality, at the very moment that the cure, summoned to the bedside of a dying person, left not only his house but the village, for the entire night.
The priest having all confidence in his guest, who, besides, was a nobleman, had left to him his house, his supper and his chamber. And therefore Marie came seeking hospitality from the guest of the good abbe and not from the good abbe himself."
"And that cavalier, that guest, that nobleman who arrived before she came?"
"It was I, the Comte de la Fere," said Athos, rising and bowing respectfully to the Duchess de Chevreuse.
The duchess remained a moment stupefied; then, suddenly bursting into laughter:
"Ah! upon my word," said she, "it is very droll, and that mad Marie Michon fared better than she expected. Sit down, dear count, and go on with your story."
"At this point I have to accuse myself of a fault, madame. I have told you that I was traveling on an important mission.
At daybreak I left the chamber without noise, leaving my charming companion asleep. In the front room the follower was also still asleep, her head leaning back on the chair, in all respects worthy of her mistress. Her pretty face arrested my attention; I approached and recognized that little Kitty whom our friend Aramis had placed with her. In that way I discovered that the charming traveler was ---- "
"Marie Michon!" said Madame de Chevreuse, hastily.
"Marie Michon," continued Athos. "Then I went out of the house; I proceeded to the stable and found my horse saddled and my lackey ready. We set forth on our journey."
"And have you never revisited that village?" eagerly asked Madame de Chevreuse.
"A year after, madame."
"Well?"
"I wanted to see the good cure again. I found him much preoccupied with an event that he could not at all comprehend. A week before he had received, in a cradle, a beautiful little boy three months old, with a purse filled with gold and a note containing these simple words: `11 October, 1633.'"
"It was the date of that strange adventure," interrupted Madame de Chevreuse.
"Yes, but he couldn't understand what it meant, for he had spent that night with a dying person and Marie Michon had left his house before his return."
