Les trois mousquetaires. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  55 CAPTIVITY: THE FOURTH DAY

  The next day, when Felton entered Milady's apartment he found herstanding, mounted upon a chair, holding in her hands a cord made bymeans of torn cambric handkerchiefs, twisted into a kind of rope onewith another, and tied at the ends. At the noise Felton made inentering, Milady leaped lightly to the ground, and tried to concealbehind her the improvised cord she held in her hand.

  The young man was more pale than usual, and his eyes, reddened by wantof sleep, denoted that he had passed a feverish night. Nevertheless, hisbrow was armed with a severity more austere than ever.

  He advanced slowly toward Milady, who had seated herself, and taking anend of the murderous rope which by neglect, or perhaps by design, sheallowed to be seen, "What is this, madame?" he asked coldly.

  "That? Nothing," said Milady, smiling with that painful expression whichshe knew so well how to give to her smile. "Ennui is the mortal enemy ofprisoners; I had ennui, and I amused myself with twisting that rope."

  Felton turned his eyes toward the part of the wall of the apartmentbefore which he had found Milady standing in the armchair in which shewas now seated, and over her head he perceived a gilt-headed screw,fixed in the wall for the purpose of hanging up clothes or weapons.

  He started, and the prisoner saw that start--for though her eyes werecast down, nothing escaped her.

  "What were you doing on that armchair?" asked he.

  "Of what consequence?" replied Milady.

  "But," replied Felton, "I wish to know."

  "Do not question me," said the prisoner; "you know that we who are trueChristians are forbidden to lie."

  "Well, then," said Felton, "I will tell you what you were doing, orrather what you meant to do; you were going to complete the fatalproject you cherish in your mind. Remember, madame, if our God forbidsfalsehood, he much more severely condemns suicide."

  "When God sees one of his creatures persecuted unjustly, placed betweensuicide and dishonor, believe me, sir," replied Milady, in a tone ofdeep conviction, "God pardons suicide, for then suicide becomesmartyrdom."

  "You say either too much or too little; speak, madame. In the name ofheaven, explain yourself."

  "That I may relate my misfortunes for you to treat them as fables; thatI may tell you my projects for you to go and betray them to mypersecutor? No, sir. Besides, of what importance to you is the life ordeath of a condemned wretch? You are only responsible for my body, is itnot so? And provided you produce a carcass that may be recognized asmine, they will require no more of you; nay, perhaps you will even havea double reward."

  "I, madame, I?" cried Felton. "You suppose that I would ever accept theprice of your life? Oh, you cannot believe what you say!"

  "Let me act as I please, Felton, let me act as I please," said Milady,elated. "Every soldier must be ambitious, must he not? You are alieutenant? Well, you will follow me to the grave with the rank ofcaptain."

  "What have I, then, done to you," said Felton, much agitated, "that youshould load me with such a responsibility before God and before men? Ina few days you will be away from this place; your life, madame, willthen no longer be under my care, and," added he, with a sigh, "then youcan do what you will with it."

  "So," cried Milady, as if she could not resist giving utterance to aholy indignation, "you, a pious man, you who are called a just man, youask but one thing--and that is that you may not be inculpated, annoyed,by my death!"

  "It is my duty to watch over your life, madame, and I will watch."

  "But do you understand the mission you are fulfilling? Cruel enough, ifI am guilty; but what name can you give it, what name will the Lord giveit, if I am innocent?"

  "I am a soldier, madame, and fulfill the orders I have received."

  "Do you believe, then, that at the day of the Last Judgment God willseparate blind executioners from iniquitous judges? You are not willingthat I should kill my body, and you make yourself the agent of him whowould kill my soul."

  "But I repeat it again to you," replied Felton, in great emotion, "nodanger threatens you; I will answer for Lord de Winter as for myself."

  "Dunce," cried Milady, "dunce! who dares to answer for another man, whenthe wisest, when those most after God's own heart, hesitate to answerfor themselves, and who ranges himself on the side of the strongest andthe most fortunate, to crush the weakest and the most unfortunate."

  "Impossible, madame, impossible," murmured Felton, who felt to thebottom of his heart the justness of this argument. "A prisoner, you willnot recover your liberty through me; living, you will not lose your lifethrough me."

  "Yes," cried Milady, "but I shall lose that which is much dearer to methan life, I shall lose my honor, Felton; and it is you, you whom I makeresponsible, before God and before men, for my shame and my infamy."

  This time Felton, immovable as he was, or appeared to be, could notresist the secret influence which had already taken possession of him.To see this woman, so beautiful, fair as the brightest vision, to seeher by turns overcome with grief and threatening; to resist at once theascendancy of grief and beauty--it was too much for a visionary; it wastoo much for a brain weakened by the ardent dreams of an ecstatic faith;it was too much for a heart furrowed by the love of heaven that burns,by the hatred of men that devours.

  Milady saw the trouble. She felt by intuition the flame of the opposingpassions which burned with the blood in the veins of the young fanatic.As a skillful general, seeing the enemy ready to surrender, marchestoward him with a cry of victory, she rose, beautiful as an antiquepriestess, inspired like a Christian virgin, her arms extended, herthroat uncovered, her hair disheveled, holding with one hand her robemodestly drawn over her breast, her look illumined by that fire whichhad already created such disorder in the veins of the young Puritan, andwent toward him, crying out with a vehement air, and in her melodiousvoice, to which on this occasion she communicated a terrible energy:

  "Let this victim to Baal be sent, To the lions the martyr be thrown! ThyGod shall teach thee to repent! From th' abyss he'll give ear to mymoan."

  Felton stood before this strange apparition like one petrified.

  "Who art thou? Who art thou?" cried he, clasping his hands. "Art thou amessenger from God; art thou a minister from hell; art thou an angel ora demon; callest thou thyself Eloa or Astarte?"

  "Do you not know me, Felton? I am neither an angel nor a demon; I am adaughter of earth, I am a sister of thy faith, that is all."

  "Yes, yes!" said Felton, "I doubted, but now I believe."

  "You believe, and still you are an accomplice of that child of Belialwho is called Lord de Winter! You believe, and yet you leave me in thehands of mine enemies, of the enemy of England, of the enemy of God! Youbelieve, and yet you deliver me up to him who fills and defiles theworld with his heresies and debaucheries--to that infamous Sardanapaluswhom the blind call the Duke of Buckingham, and whom believers nameAntichrist!"

  "I deliver you up to Buckingham? I? what mean you by that?"

  "They have eyes," cried Milady, "but they see not; ears have they, butthey hear not."

  "Yes, yes!" said Felton, passing his hands over his brow, covered withsweat, as if to remove his last doubt. "Yes, I recognize the voice whichspeaks to me in my dreams; yes, I recognize the features of the angelwho appears to me every night, crying to my soul, which cannot sleep:'Strike, save England, save thyself--for thou wilt die without havingappeased God!' Speak, speak!" cried Felton, "I can understand you now."

  A flash of terrible joy, but rapid as thought, gleamed from the eyes ofMilady.

  However fugitive this homicide flash, Felton saw it, and started as ifits light had revealed the abysses of this woman's heart. He recalled,all at once, the warnings of Lord de Winter, the seductions of Milady,her first attempts after her arrival. He drew back a step, and hung downhis head, without, however, ceasing to look at her, as if, fascinated bythis strange creature, he could not detach his eyes from her eyes.

  Milady was not a woman to misunder
stand the meaning of this hesitation.Under her apparent emotions her icy coolness never abandoned her. BeforeFelton replied, and before she should be forced to resume thisconversation, so difficult to be sustained in the same exalted tone, shelet her hands fall; and as if the weakness of the woman overpowered theenthusiasm of the inspired fanatic, she said: "But no, it is not for meto be the Judith to deliver Bethulia from this Holofernes. The sword ofthe eternal is too heavy for my arm. Allow me, then, to avoid dishonorby death; let me take refuge in martyrdom. I do not ask you for liberty,as a guilty one would, nor for vengeance, as would a pagan. Let me die;that is all. I supplicate you, I implore you on my knees--let me die,and my last sigh shall be a blessing for my preserver."

  Hearing that voice, so sweet and suppliant, seeing that look, so timidand downcast, Felton reproached himself. By degrees the enchantress hadclothed herself with that magic adornment which she assumed and threwaside at will; that is to say, beauty, meekness, and tears--and aboveall, the irresistible attraction of mystical voluptuousness, the mostdevouring of all voluptuousness.

  "Alas!" said Felton, "I can do but one thing, which is to pity you ifyou prove to me you are a victim! But Lord de Winter makes cruelaccusations against you. You are a Christian; you are my sister inreligion. I feel myself drawn toward you--I, who have never loved anyonebut my benefactor--I who have met with nothing but traitors and impiousmen. But you, madame, so beautiful in reality, you, so pure inappearance, must have committed great iniquities for Lord de Winter topursue you thus."

  "They have eyes," repeated Milady, with an accent of indescribablegrief, "but they see not; ears have they, but they hear not."

  "But," cried the young officer, "speak, then, speak!"

  "Confide my shame to you," cried Milady, with the blush of modesty uponher countenance, "for often the crime of one becomes the shame ofanother--confide my shame to you, a man, and I a woman? Oh," continuedshe, placing her hand modestly over her beautiful eyes, "never!never!--I could not!"

  "To me, to a brother?" said Felton.

  Milady looked at him for some time with an expression which the youngman took for doubt, but which, however, was nothing but observation, orrather the wish to fascinate.

  Felton, in his turn a suppliant, clasped his hands.

  "Well, then," said Milady, "I confide in my brother; I will dare to--"

  At this moment the steps of Lord de Winter were heard; but this time theterrible brother-in-law of Milady did not content himself, as on thepreceding day, with passing before the door and going away again. Hepaused, exchanged two words with the sentinel; then the door opened, andhe appeared.

  During the exchange of these two words Felton drew back quickly, andwhen Lord de Winter entered, he was several paces from the prisoner.

  The baron entered slowly, sending a scrutinizing glance from Milady tothe young officer.

  "You have been here a very long time, John," said he. "Has this womanbeen relating her crimes to you? In that case I can comprehend thelength of the conversation."

  Felton started; and Milady felt she was lost if she did not come to theassistance of the disconcerted Puritan.

  "Ah, you fear your prisoner should escape!" said she. "Well, ask yourworthy jailer what favor I this instant solicited of him."

  "You demanded a favor?" said the baron, suspiciously.

  "Yes, my Lord," replied the young man, confused.

  "And what favor, pray?" asked Lord de Winter.

  "A knife, which she would return to me through the grating of the door aminute after she had received it," replied Felton.

  "There is someone, then, concealed here whose throat this amiable ladyis desirous of cutting," said de Winter, in an ironical, contemptuoustone.

  "There is myself," replied Milady.

  "I have given you the choice between America and Tyburn," replied Lordde Winter. "Choose Tyburn, madame. Believe me, the cord is more certainthan the knife."

  Felton grew pale, and made a step forward, remembering that at themoment he entered Milady had a rope in her hand.

  "You are right," said she, "I have often thought of it." Then she addedin a low voice, "And I will think of it again."

  Felton felt a shudder run to the marrow of his bones; probably Lord deWinter perceived this emotion.

  "Mistrust yourself, John," said he. "I have placed reliance upon you, myfriend. Beware! I have warned you! But be of good courage, my lad; inthree days we shall be delivered from this creature, and where I shallsend her she can harm nobody."

  "You hear him!" cried Milady, with vehemence, so that the baron mightbelieve she was addressing heaven, and that Felton might understand shewas addressing him.

  Felton lowered his head and reflected.

  The baron took the young officer by the arm, and turned his head overhis shoulder, so as not to lose sight of Milady till he was gone out.

  "Well," said the prisoner, when the door was shut, "I am not so faradvanced as I believed. De Winter has changed his usual stupidity into astrange prudence. It is the desire of vengeance, and how desire molds aman! As to Felton, he hesitates. Ah, he is not a man like that cursedd'Artagnan. A Puritan only adores virgins, and he adores them byclasping his hands. A Musketeer loves women, and he loves them byclasping his arms round them."

  Milady waited, then, with much impatience, for she feared the day wouldpass away without her seeing Felton again. At last, in an hour after thescene we have just described, she heard someone speaking in a low voiceat the door. Presently the door opened, and she perceived Felton.

  The young man advanced rapidly into the chamber, leaving the door openbehind him, and making a sign to Milady to be silent; his face was muchagitated.

  "What do you want with me?" said she.

  "Listen," replied Felton, in a low voice. "I have just sent away thesentinel that I might remain here without anybody knowing it, in orderto speak to you without being overheard. The baron has just related afrightful story to me."

  Milady assumed her smile of a resigned victim, and shook her head.

  "Either you are a demon," continued Felton, "or the baron--mybenefactor, my father--is a monster. I have known you four days; I haveloved him four years. I therefore may hesitate between you. Be notalarmed at what I say; I want to be convinced. Tonight, after twelve, Iwill come and see you, and you shall convince me."

  "No, Felton, no, my brother," said she; "the sacrifice is too great, andI feel what it must cost you. No, I am lost; do not be lost with me. Mydeath will be much more eloquent than my life, and the silence of thecorpse will convince you much better than the words of the prisoner."

  "Be silent, madame," cried Felton, "and do not speak to me thus; I cameto entreat you to promise me upon your honor, to swear to me by what youhold most sacred, that you will make no attempt upon your life."

  "I will not promise," said Milady, "for no one has more respect for apromise or an oath than I have; and if I make a promise I must keep it."

  "Well," said Felton, "only promise till you have seen me again. If, whenyou have seen me again, you still persist--well, then you shall be free,and I myself will give you the weapon you desire."

  "Well," said Milady, "for you I will wait."

  "Swear."

  "I swear it, by our God. Are you satisfied?"

  "Well," said Felton, "till tonight."

  And he darted out of the room, shut the door, and waited in thecorridor, the soldier's half-pike in his hand, and as if he had mountedguard in his place.

  The soldier returned, and Felton gave him back his weapon.

  Then, through the grating to which she had drawn near, Milady saw theyoung man make a sign with delirious fervor, and depart in an apparenttransport of joy.

  As for her, she returned to her place with a smile of savage contemptupon her lips, and repeated, blaspheming, that terrible name of God, bywhom she had just sworn without ever having learned to know Him.

  "My God," said she, "what a senseless fanatic! My God, it is I--I--andthis fellow who will
help me to avenge myself."