"Do you know what my opinion is?" continued she, addressing D'Artagnan.
"No, mademoiselle; but I should like very much to know it."
"My opinion is, then, that all the men who go to this war, are desperate, desponding men, whom love has treated ill; and who go to try if they cannot find black women more kind than fair ones have been."
Some of the ladies laughed. La Valliere was evidently confused. Montalais coughed loud enough to waken the dead.
"Mademoiselle," interrupted D'Artagnan, "you are in error when you speak of black women at Gigelli; the women there are not black; it is true they are not white—they are yellow."
"Yellow!" exclaimed the bevy of fair beauties.
"Eh! do not disparage it. I have never seen a finer color to match with black eyes and a coral mouth."
"So much the better for M. de Bragelonne," said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, with persistent malice. "He will make amends for his loss. Poor fellow!"
A profound silence followed these words; and D'Artagnan had time to observe and reflect that women—those mild doves—treat each other much more cruelly than tigers and bears. But making La Valliere pale did not satisfy Athenaïs; she determined to make her blush likewise. Resuming the conversation without pause, "Do you know, Louise," said she, "that that is a great sin on your conscience?"
"What sin, mademoiselle?" stammered the unfortunate girl, looking round her for support, without finding it.