He was introduced.
“I am at home to nobody,” said Milady; “observe, to nobody .” The servant went out.
D’Artagnan cast an inquiring glance at Milady. She was pale, and looked fatigued, either from tears or want of sleep. The number of lights had been intentionally diminished, but the young woman could not conceal the traces of the fever which had devoured her for two days.
D’Artagnan approached her with his usual gallantry. She then made an extraordinary effort to receive him, but never did a more distressed countenance give the lie to a more amiable smile.
To the questions which d’Artagnan put concerning her health, she replied, “Bad, very bad.”
“Then,” replied he, “my visit is ill-timed; you, no doubt, stand in need of repose, and I will withdraw.”
“No, no!” said Milady. “On the contrary, stay, M. d’Artagnan; your agreeable company will divert me.”
Oh, oh! thought d’Artagnan. She has never been so kind before. On guard!
Milady assumed the most agreeable air possible, and conversed with more than her usual brilliancy. At the same time the fever, which for an instant abandoned her, returned to give luster to her eyes, color to her cheeks, and vermillion to her lips. D’Artagnan was again in the presence of the Circe who had before surrounded him with her enchantments. His love, which he believed to be extinct but which was only asleep, awoke again in his heart. Milady smiled, and d’Artagnan felt that he could damn himself for that smile. There was a moment at which he felt something like remorse.