“For everything?”
“For everything,” cried d’Artagnan, who knew beforehand that he had not much to risk in engaging himself thus.
“Well, now let us talk a little seriously,” said Milady, in her turn drawing her armchair nearer to d’Artagnan’s chair.
“I am all attention, Madame,” said he.
Milady remained thoughtful and undecided for a moment; then, as if appearing to have formed a resolution, she said, “I have an enemy.”
“You, Madame!” said d’Artagnan, affecting surprise; “is that possible, my God?—good and beautiful as you are!”
“A mortal enemy.”
“Indeed!”
“An enemy who has insulted me so cruelly that between him and me it is war to the death. May I reckon on you as an auxiliary?”
D’Artagnan at once perceived the ground which the vindictive creature wished to reach.
“You may, Madame,” said he, with emphasis. “My arm and my life belong to you, like my love.”
“Then,” said Milady, “since you are as generous as you are loving—”
She stopped.
“Well?” demanded d’Artagnan.
“Well,” replied Milady, after a moment of silence, “from the present time, cease to talk of impossibilities.”