The three musketeers
“That man was he who had pursued me during a whole year, who had vowed
my dishonor, and who, by the first words that issued from his mouth,
gave me to understand he had accomplished it the preceding night.”
“Scoundrel!” murmured Felton.
“Oh, yes, scoundrel!” cried Milady, seeing the interest which the young
officer, whose soul seemed to hang on her lips, took in this strange
recital. “Oh, yes, scoundrel! He believed, having triumphed over me in
my sleep, that all was completed. He came, hoping that I would accept
my shame, as my shame was consummated; he came to offer his fortune in
exchange for my love.
“All that the heart of a woman could contain of haughty contempt and
disdainful words, I poured out upon this man. Doubtless he was
accustomed to such reproaches, for he listened to me calm and smiling,
with his arms crossed over his breast. Then, when he thought I had said
all, he advanced toward me; I sprang toward the table, I seized a
knife, I placed it to my breast.
“Take one step more,” said I, “and in addition to my dishonor, you
shall have my death to reproach yourself with.”
“There was, no doubt, in my look, my voice, my whole person, that
sincerity of gesture, of attitude, of accent, which carries conviction
to the most perverse minds, for he paused.
“‘Your death?’ said he; ‘oh, no, you are too charming a mistress to
allow me to consent to lose you thus, after I have had the happiness to
possess you only a single time. Adieu, my charmer; I will wait to pay
you my next visit till you are in a better humor.’
“At these words he blew a whistle; the globe of fire which lighted the
room reascended and disappeared. I found myself again in complete
darkness. The same noise of a door opening and shutting was repeated
the instant afterward; the flaming globe descended afresh, and I was
completely alone.
“This moment was frightful; if I had any doubts as to my misfortune,
these doubts had vanished in an overwhelming reality. I was in the
power of a man whom I not only detested, but despised—of a man capable
of anything, and who had already given me a fatal proof of what he was
able to do.”
“But who, then, was this man?” asked Felton.
“I passed the night on a chair, starting at the least noise, for toward
midnight the lamp went out, and I was again in darkness. But the night
passed away without any fresh attempt on the part of my persecutor. Day
came; the table had disappeared, only I had still the knife in my hand.
“This knife was my only hope.
“I was worn out with fatigue. Sleeplessness inflamed my eyes; I had not
dared to sleep a single instant. The light of day reassured me; I went
and threw myself on the bed, without parting with the emancipating
knife, which I concealed under my pillow.
“When I awoke, a fresh meal was served.
“This time, in spite of my terrors, in spite of my agony, I began to
feel a devouring hunger. It was forty-eight hours since I had taken any
nourishment. I ate some bread and some fruit; then, remembering the
narcotic mixed with the water I had drunk, I would not touch that which
was placed on the table, but filled my glass at a marble fountain fixed
in the wall over my dressing table.
“And yet, notwithstanding these precautions, I remained for some time
in a terrible agitation of mind. But my fears were this time
ill-founded; I passed the day without experiencing anything of the kind
I dreaded.
“I took the precaution to half empty the _carafe_, in order that my
suspicions might not be noticed.
“The evening came on, and with it darkness; but however profound was
this darkness, my eyes began to accustom themselves to it. I saw, amid
the shadows, the table sink through the floor; a quarter of an hour
later it reappeared, bearing my supper. In an instant, thanks to the
lamp, my chamber was once more lighted.
“I was determined to eat only such things as could not possibly have
anything soporific introduced into them. Two eggs and some fruit
composed my repast; then I drew another glass of water from my
protecting fountain, and drank it.
“At the first swallow, it appeared to me not to have the same taste as
in the morning. Suspicion instantly seized me. I paused, but I had
already drunk half a glass.
“I threw the rest away with horror, and waited, with the dew of fear
upon my brow.
“No doubt some invisible witness had seen me draw the water from that
fountain, and had taken advantage of my confidence in it, the better to
assure my ruin, so coolly resolved upon, so cruelly pursued.
“Half an hour had not passed when the same symptoms began to appear;
but as I had only drunk half a glass of the water, I contended longer,
and instead of falling entirely asleep, I sank into a state of
drowsiness which left me a perception of what was passing around me,
while depriving me of the strength either to defend myself or to fly.
“I dragged myself toward the bed, to seek the only defense I had
left—my saving knife; but I could not reach the bolster. I sank on my
knees, my hands clasped round one of the bedposts; then I felt that I
was lost.”
Felton became frightfully pale, and a convulsive tremor crept through
his whole body.
“And what was most frightful,” continued Milady, her voice altered, as
if she still experienced the same agony as at that awful minute, “was
that at this time I retained a consciousness of the danger that
threatened me; was that my soul, if I may say so, waked in my sleeping
body; was that I saw, that I heard. It is true that all was like a
dream, but it was not the less frightful.
“I saw the lamp ascend, and leave me in darkness; then I heard the
well-known creaking of the door although I had heard that door open but
twice.
“I felt instinctively that someone approached me; it is said that the
doomed wretch in the deserts of America thus feels the approach of the
serpent.
“I wished to make an effort; I attempted to cry out. By an incredible
effort of will I even raised myself up, but only to sink down again
immediately, and to fall into the arms of my persecutor.”
“Tell me who this man was!” cried the young officer.
Milady saw at a single glance all the painful feelings she inspired in
Felton by dwelling on every detail of her recital; but she would not
spare him a single pang. The more profoundly she wounded his heart, the
more certainly he would avenge her. She continued, then, as if she had
not heard his exclamation, or as if she thought the moment was not yet
come to reply to it.
“Only this time it was no longer an inert body, without feeling, that
the villain had to deal with. I have told you that without being able
to regain the complete exercise of my faculties, I retained the sense
of my danger. I struggled, then, with all my strength, and doubtless
opposed, weak as I was, a long resistance, for I heard him cry out,
‘These miserable Puritans! I knew very well that they tired out their
executioners, but I did not believe them so strong against their
lovers!’
“Alas! this desperate resistance could not last long. I felt my
strength fail, and this time it was not my sleep that enabled the
coward to prevail, but my swoon.”
Felton listened without uttering any word or sound, except an inward
expression of agony. The sweat streamed down his marble forehead, and
his hand, under his coat, tore his breast.
“My first impulse, on coming to myself, was to feel under my pillow for
the knife I had not been able to reach; if it had not been useful for
defense, it might at least serve for expiation.
“But on taking this knife, Felton, a terrible idea occurred to me. I
have sworn to tell you all, and I will tell you all. I have promised
you the truth; I will tell it, were it to destroy me.”
“The idea came into your mind to avenge yourself on this man, did it
not?” cried Felton.
“Yes,” said Milady. “The idea was not that of a Christian, I knew; but
without doubt, that eternal enemy of our souls, that lion roaring
constantly around us, breathed it into my mind. In short, what shall I
say to you, Felton?” continued Milady, in the tone of a woman accusing
herself of a crime. “This idea occurred to me, and did not leave me; it
is of this homicidal thought that I now bear the punishment.”
“Continue, continue!” said Felton; “I am eager to see you attain your
vengeance!”
“Oh, I resolved that it should take place as soon as possible. I had no
doubt he would return the following night. During the day I had nothing
to fear.
“When the hour of breakfast came, therefore, I did not hesitate to eat
and drink. I had determined to make believe sup, but to eat nothing. I
was forced, then, to combat the fast of the evening with the
nourishment of the morning.
“Only I concealed a glass of water, which remained after my breakfast,
thirst having been the chief of my sufferings when I remained
forty-eight hours without eating or drinking.
“The day passed away without having any other influence on me than to
strengthen the resolution I had formed; only I took care that my face
should not betray the thoughts of my heart, for I had no doubt I was
watched. Several times, even, I felt a smile on my lips. Felton, I dare
not tell you at what idea I smiled; you would hold me in horror—”
“Go on! go on!” said Felton; “you see plainly that I listen, and that I
am anxious to know the end.”
“Evening came; the ordinary events took place. During the darkness, as
before, my supper was brought. Then the lamp was lighted, and I sat
down to table. I only ate some fruit. I pretended to pour out water
from the jug, but I only drank that which I had saved in my glass. The
substitution was made so carefully that my spies, if I had any, could
have no suspicion of it.
“After supper I exhibited the same marks of languor as on the preceding
evening; but this time, as I yielded to fatigue, or as if I had become
familiarized with danger, I dragged myself toward my bed, let my robe
fall, and lay down.
“I found my knife where I had placed it, under my pillow, and while
feigning to sleep, my hand grasped the handle of it convulsively.
“Two hours passed away without anything fresh happening. Oh, my God!
who could have said so the evening before? I began to fear that he
would not come.
“At length I saw the lamp rise softly, and disappear in the depths of
the ceiling; my chamber was filled with darkness and obscurity, but I
made a strong effort to penetrate this darkness and obscurity.
“Nearly ten minutes passed; I heard no other noise but the beating of
my own heart. I implored heaven that he might come.
“At length I heard the well-known noise of the door, which opened and
shut; I heard, notwithstanding the thickness of the carpet, a step
which made the floor creak; I saw, notwithstanding the darkness, a
shadow which approached my bed.”
“Haste! haste!” said Felton; “do you not see that each of your words
burns me like molten lead?”
“Then,” continued Milady, “then I collected all my strength; I recalled
to my mind that the moment of vengeance, or rather, of justice, had
struck. I looked upon myself as another Judith; I gathered myself up,
my knife in my hand, and when I saw him near me, stretching out his
arms to find his victim, then, with the last cry of agony and despair,
I struck him in the middle of his breast.
“The miserable villain! He had foreseen all. His breast was covered
with a coat-of-mail; the knife was bent against it.
“‘Ah, ah!’ cried he, seizing my arm, and wresting from me the weapon
that had so badly served me, ‘you want to take my life, do you, my
pretty Puritan? But that’s more than dislike, that’s ingratitude! Come,
come, calm yourself, my sweet girl! I thought you had softened. I am
not one of those tyrants who detain women by force. You don’t love me.