unknown to her, and she was even ignorant that a woman had had so great and so fatal a share in the misfortune of her life.
“You see,” said she, when the lackey had gone out, “everything is ready. The abbess suspects nothing, and believes that I am taken by order of the cardinal. This man goes to give his last orders; take the least thing, drink a finger of wine, and let us be gone.”
“Yes,” said Madame Bonacieux, mechanically, “yes, let us be gone.”
Milady made her a sign to sit down opposite, poured her a small glass of Spanish wine, and helped her to the wing of a chicken.
“See,” said she, “if everything does not second us! Here is night coming on; by daybreak we shall have reached our retreat, and nobody can guess where we are. Come, courage! take something.”
Madame Bonacieux ate a few mouthfuls mechanically, and just touched the glass with her lips.
“Come, come!” said Milady, lifting hers to her mouth, “do as I do.”
But at the moment the glass touched her lips, her hand remained suspended; she heard something on the road which sounded like the rattling of a distant gallop. Then it grew nearer, and it seemed to her, almost at the same time, that she heard the neighing of horses.
This noise acted upon her joy like the storm which awakens the sleeper in the midst of a happy dream; she grew pale and ran to the window, while Madame Bonacieux, rising all in a tremble, supported herself upon her chair to avoid falling. Nothing was yet to be seen, only they heard the galloping draw nearer.
“Oh, my God!” said Madame Bonacieux, “what is that noise?”