D’Artagnan made Kitty promise to bring him that letter on the following morning. The poor girl promised all her lover desired; she was mad.
Things passed as on the night before. D’Artagnan concealed himself in his closet; Milady called, undressed, sent away Kitty, and shut the door. As the night before, D’Artagnan did not return home till five o’clock in the morning.
At eleven o’clock Kitty came to him. She held in her hand a fresh billet from Milady. This time the poor girl did not even argue with D’Artagnan; she gave it to him at once. She belonged body and soul to her handsome soldier.
D’Artagnan opened the letter and read as follows:
This is the third time I have written to you to tell you that I love you. Beware that I do not write to you a fourth time to tell you that I detest you.
If you repent of the manner in which you have acted toward me, the young girl who brings you this will tell you how a man of spirit may obtain his pardon.
D’Artagnan colored and grew pale several times in reading this billet.
“Oh, you love her still,” said Kitty, who had not taken her eyes off the young man’s countenance for an instant.
“No, Kitty, you are mistaken. I do not love her, but I will avenge myself for her contempt.”
“Oh, yes, I know what sort of vengeance! You told me that!”
“What matters it to you, Kitty? You know it is you alone whom I love.”