“How do I know it?” said D’Artagnan.
“Yes.”
“I know it because yesterday Monsieur de Wardes, in a saloon where I was, showed a ring which he said he had received from you.”
“Wretch!” cried Milady.
The epithet, as may be easily understood, resounded to the very bottom of D’Artagnan’s heart.
“Well?” continued she.
“Well, I will avenge you of this wretch,” replied D’Artagnan, giving himself the airs of Don Japhet of Armenia.
“Thanks, my brave friend!” cried Milady; “and when shall I be avenged?”
“Tomorrow—immediately—when you please!”
Milady was about to cry out, “Immediately,” but she reflected that such precipitation would not be very gracious toward D’Artagnan.