"Ho! Ho!" broke in a familiar voice. "There'll be no hair on the neck of Mlle. Bonacieux to dull the edge of M. Capeluche's good sword."
IT WAS near dark before the youthful Comte, after his discourteous reception by the headsman, was able to arrange suitable quarters in one of the deserted houses for his charge. As he was leaving her for the night, he seemed to reach a decision and was about to speak when she anticipated him.
"You are kind, indeed, M. le Comte," she exclaimed, "to one in such misfortune."
"Kindness, Mlle. Bonacieux, comes easily when one views beauty in distress."
Mlle. Bonacieux shook her head reprovingly.
"Ah, Comte, to one whose tenure of existence is limited by a bit of parchment to ten hours the occasion does not seem fitting for mere compliment."
"The occasion, Mademoiselle, is not entirely unpropitious if one considers all the possibilities."
The woman gave him a quick look.
"To just what, pray, does the Comte de Mousqueton refer?"
The young Frenchman paced the room, giving signs of a state of tension. Then he began to speak rapidly:
"The Mlle. Bonacieux, some of us feel at the court, has been ill treated both by the King and the Dauphin. The King, by his gratuitous harshness, and the Dauphin, by his, his—"
The Comte hesitated. The keenly intelligent gaze of the woman interrogated him.
"Proceed, M. le Comte," she encouraged.
"Will it be permitted a mere Comte to speak frankly of the prince?"
"By all means."
"Then I shall dare to say, by the lack of knowledge and perspicacity of the Dauphin."
In spite of herself, a flush stole into the face of the woman.
"Ah! You are naïve!" she exclaimed, in pain. "Cruelly so."
"Nay, Mademoiselle. It is not naïvete in the circumstances, for I have a definite plan to defeat the machinations of the Cardinal."
In amazement the woman stared at her companion.
"But how—" she began.
"Listen, Mademoiselle. Everyone, it seems, including both the King and the Dauphin, have forgotten the ancient Merovingian statute, which provides that a woman sentenced to death may, if the headsman is 'able and willing' to marry her, be saved. Now, M. le headsman, if a boor, has at least the temporarily strategic advantage of being a celibate. It remains merely for you to captivate the gentleman's fancy, and—who knows?"
The Comte now glanced with interest at his beautiful prisoner. She was smiling.
"Very prettily thought M. le Comte," she said, "and your interest in my cause is flattering. But is not death itself preferable to life with yon crimson-handed churl as a wife whose only contact with her neighbors would be in the night-time, when they came stealing to buy from her horrid amulets with which to curse their enemies?"
"Ah, but who said that Mlle. Bonacieux would be compelled to endure life with a headsman?"
"Surely it is not to be expected," remarked the woman, "that the headsman would be gallant enough to release me immediately after the ceremony?"
A short laugh broke from the Comte.
"No fear of that. My purpose is to relieve him of his bridegroom embarrassment within ten minutes after he has a wife."
"Ah! A rescue! You, a King’s Messenger, would dare that for me?"
