Revolving all this in her mind, she cast her eyes around her, and arranged the topography of the garden in her head. Milady was like a good general who contemplates at the same time victory and defeat, and who is quite prepared, according to the chances of the battle, to march forward or to beat a retreat.
At the end of an hour she heard a soft voice calling her; it was Madame Bonacieux’s. The good abbess had naturally consented to her request; and as a commencement, they were to sup together.
On reaching the courtyard, they heard the noise of a carriage which stopped at the gate.
Milady listened.
“Do you hear anything?” said she.
“Yes, the rolling of a carriage.”
“It is the one my brother sends for us.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Come, come! courage!”
The bell of the convent gate was sounded; Milady was not mistaken.
“Go to your chamber,” said she to Madame Bonacieux; “you have perhaps some jewels you would like to take.”
“I have his letters,” said she.
“Well, go and fetch them, and come to my apartment. We will snatch some supper; we shall perhaps travel part of the night, and must keep our strength up.”