57 MEANS FOR CLASSICAL TRAGEDY
After a moment of silence employed by Milady in observing the young manwho listened to her, Milady continued her recital.
"It was nearly three days since I had eaten or drunk anything. Isuffered frightful torments. At times there passed before me cloudswhich pressed my brow, which veiled my eyes; this was delirium.
"When the evening came I was so weak that every time I fainted I thankedGod, for I thought I was about to die.
"In the midst of one of these swoons I heard the door open. Terrorrecalled me to myself.
"He entered the apartment followed by a man in a mask. He was maskedlikewise; but I knew his step, I knew his voice, I knew him by thatimposing bearing which hell has bestowed upon his person for the curseof humanity.
"'Well,' said he to me, 'have you made your mind up to take the oath Irequested of you?'
"'You have said Puritans have but one word. Mine you have heard, andthat is to pursue you--on earth to the tribunal of men, in heaven to thetribunal of God.'
"'You persist, then?'
"'I swear it before the God who hears me. I will take the whole world asa witness of your crime, and that until I have found an avenger.'
"'You are a prostitute,' said he, in a voice of thunder, 'and you shallundergo the punishment of prostitutes! Branded in the eyes of the worldyou invoke, try to prove to that world that you are neither guilty normad!'
"Then, addressing the man who accompanied him, 'Executioner,' said he,'do your duty.'"
"Oh, his name, his name!" cried Felton. "His name, tell it me!"
"Then in spite of my cries, in spite of my resistance--for I began tocomprehend that there was a question of something worse than death--theexecutioner seized me, threw me on the floor, fastened me with hisbonds, and suffocated by sobs, almost without sense, invoking God, whodid not listen to me, I uttered all at once a frightful cry of pain andshame. A burning fire, a red-hot iron, the iron of the executioner, wasimprinted on my shoulder."
Felton uttered a groan.
"Here," said Milady, rising with the majesty of a queen, "here, Felton,behold the new martyrdom invented for a pure young girl, the victim ofthe brutality of a villain. Learn to know the heart of men, andhenceforth make yourself less easily the instrument of their unjustvengeance."
Milady, with a rapid gesture, opened her robe, tore the cambric thatcovered her bosom, and red with feigned anger and simulated shame,showed the young man the ineffaceable impression which dishonored thatbeautiful shoulder.
"But," cried Felton, "that is a FLEUR-DE-LIS which I see there."
"And therein consisted the infamy," replied Milady. "The brand ofEngland!--it would be necessary to prove what tribunal had imposed it onme, and I could have made a public appeal to all the tribunals of thekingdom; but the brand of France!--oh, by that, by THAT I was brandedindeed!"
This was too much for Felton.
Pale, motionless, overwhelmed by this frightful revelation, dazzled bythe superhuman beauty of this woman who unveiled herself before him withan immodesty which appeared to him sublime, he ended by falling on hisknees before her as the early Christians did before those pure and holymartyrs whom the persecution of the emperors gave up in the circus tothe sanguinary sensuality of the populace. The brand disappeared; thebeauty alone remained.
"Pardon! Pardon!" cried Felton, "oh, pardon!"
Milady read in his eyes LOVE! LOVE!
"Pardon for what?" asked she.
"Pardon me for having joined with your persecutors."
Milady held out her hand to him.
"So beautiful! so young!" cried Felton, covering that hand with hiskisses.
Milady let one of those looks fall upon him which make a slave of aking.
Felton was a Puritan; he abandoned the hand of this woman to kiss herfeet.
He no longer loved her; he adored her.
When this crisis was past, when Milady appeared to have resumed herself-possession, which she had never lost; when Felton had seen herrecover with the veil of chastity those treasures of love which wereonly concealed from him to make him desire them the more ardently, hesaid, "Ah, now! I have only one thing to ask of you; that is, the nameof your true executioner. For to me there is but one; the other was aninstrument, that was all."
"What, brother!" cried Milady, "must I name him again? Have you not yetdivined who he is?"
"What?" cried Felton, "he--again he--always he? What--the truly guilty?"
"The truly guilty," said Milady, "is the ravager of England, thepersecutor of true believers, the base ravisher of the honor of so manywomen--he who, to satisfy a caprice of his corrupt heart, is about tomake England shed so much blood, who protects the Protestants today andwill betray them tomorrow--"
"Buckingham! It is, then, Buckingham!" cried Felton, in a high state ofexcitement.
Milady concealed her face in her hands, as if she could not endure theshame which this name recalled to her.
"Buckingham, the executioner of this angelic creature!" cried Felton."And thou hast not hurled thy thunder at him, my God! And thou hast lefthim noble, honored, powerful, for the ruin of us all!"
"God abandons him who abandons himself," said Milady.
"But he will draw upon his head the punishment reserved for the damned!"said Felton, with increasing exultation. "He wills that human vengeanceshould precede celestial justice."
"Men fear him and spare him."
"I," said Felton, "I do not fear him, nor will I spare him."
The soul of Milady was bathed in an infernal joy.
"But how can Lord de Winter, my protector, my father," asked Felton,"possibly be mixed up with all this?"
"Listen, Felton," resumed Milady, "for by the side of base andcontemptible men there are often found great and generous natures. I hadan affianced husband, a man whom I loved, and who loved me--a heart likeyours, Felton, a man like you. I went to him and told him all; he knewme, that man did, and did not doubt an instant. He was a nobleman, a manequal to Buckingham in every respect. He said nothing; he only girded onhis sword, wrapped himself in his cloak, and went straight to BuckinghamPalace.
"Yes, yes," said Felton; "I understand how he would act. But with suchmen it is not the sword that should be employed; it is the poniard."
"Buckingham had left England the day before, sent as ambassador toSpain, to demand the hand of the Infanta for King Charles I, who wasthen only Prince of Wales. My affianced husband returned.
"'Hear me,' said he; 'this man has gone, and for the moment hasconsequently escaped my vengeance; but let us be united, as we were tohave been, and then leave it to Lord de Winter to maintain his own honorand that of his wife.'"
"Lord de Winter!" cried Felton.
"Yes," said Milady, "Lord de Winter; and now you can understand it all,can you not? Buckingham remained nearly a year absent. A week before hisreturn Lord de Winter died, leaving me his sole heir. Whence came theblow? God who knows all, knows without doubt; but as for me, I accusenobody."
"Oh, what an abyss; what an abyss!" cried Felton.
"Lord de Winter died without revealing anything to his brother. Theterrible secret was to be concealed till it burst, like a clap ofthunder, over the head of the guilty. Your protector had seen with painthis marriage of his elder brother with a portionless girl. I wassensible that I could look for no support from a man disappointed in hishopes of an inheritance. I went to France, with a determination toremain there for the rest of my life. But all my fortune is in England.Communication being closed by the war, I was in want of everything. Iwas then obliged to come back again. Six days ago, I landed atPortsmouth."
"Well?" said Felton.
"Well; Buckingham heard by some means, no doubt, of my return. He spokeof me to Lord de Winter, already prejudiced against me, and told himthat his sister-in-law was a prostitute, a branded woman. The noble andpure voice of my husband was no longer here to defend me. Lord de Winterbelieved all that was told him with so much the more ease that
it washis interest to believe it. He caused me to be arrested, had meconducted hither, and placed me under your guard. You know the rest. Theday after tomorrow he banishes me, he transports me; the day aftertomorrow he exiles me among the infamous. Oh, the train is well laid;the plot is clever. My honor will not survive it! You see, then, Felton,I can do nothing but die. Felton, give me that knife!"
And at these words, as if all her strength was exhausted, Milady sank,weak and languishing, into the arms of the young officer, who,intoxicated with love, anger, and voluptuous sensations hithertounknown, received her with transport, pressed her against his heart, alltrembling at the breath from that charming mouth, bewildered by thecontact with that palpitating bosom.
"No, no," said he. "No, you shall live honored and pure; you shall liveto triumph over your enemies."
Milady put him from her slowly with her hand, while drawing him nearerwith her look; but Felton, in his turn, embraced her more closely,imploring her like a divinity.
"Oh, death, death!" said she, lowering her voice and her eyelids, "oh,death, rather than shame! Felton, my brother, my friend, I conjure you!"
"No," cried Felton, "no; you shall live and you shall be avenged."
"Felton, I bring misfortune to all who surround me! Felton, abandon me!Felton, let me die!"
"Well, then, we will live and die together!" cried he, pressing his lipsto those of the prisoner.
Several strokes resounded on the door; this time Milady really pushedhim away from her.
"Hark," said she, "we have been overheard! Someone is coming! All isover! We are lost!"
"No," said Felton; it is only the sentinel warning me that they areabout to change the guard."
"Then run to the door, and open it yourself."
Felton obeyed; this woman was now his whole thought, his whole soul.
He found himself face to face with a sergeant commanding a watch-patrol.
"Well, what is the matter?" asked the young lieutenant.
"You told me to open the door if I heard anyone cry out," said thesoldier; "but you forgot to leave me the key. I heard you cry out,without understanding what you said. I tried to open the door, but itwas locked inside; then I called the sergeant."
"And here I am," said the sergeant.
Felton, quite bewildered, almost mad, stood speechless.
Milady plainly perceived that it was now her turn to take part in thescene. She ran to the table, and seizing the knife which Felton had laiddown, exclaimed, "And by what right will you prevent me from dying?"
"Great God!" exclaimed Felton, on seeing the knife glitter in her hand.
At that moment a burst of ironical laughter resounded through thecorridor. The baron, attracted by the noise, in his chamber gown, hissword under his arm, stood in the doorway.
"Ah," said he, "here we are, at the last act of the tragedy. You see,Felton, the drama has gone through all the phases I named; but be easy,no blood will flow."
Milady perceived that all was lost unless she gave Felton an immediateand terrible proof of her courage.
"You are mistaken, my Lord, blood will flow; and may that blood fallback on those who cause it to flow!"
Felton uttered a cry, and rushed toward her. He was too late; Milady hadstabbed herself.
But the knife had fortunately, we ought to say skillfully, come incontact with the steel busk, which at that period, like a cuirass,defended the chests of women. It had glided down it, tearing the robe,and had penetrated slantingly between the flesh and the ribs. Milady'srobe was not the less stained with blood in a second.
Milady fell down, and seemed to be in a swoon.
Felton snatched away the knife.
"See, my Lord," said he, in a deep, gloomy tone, "here is a woman whowas under my guard, and who has killed herself!"
"Be at ease, Felton," said Lord de Winter. "She is not dead; demons donot die so easily. Be tranquil, and go wait for me in my chamber."
"But, my Lord--"
"Go, sir, I command you!"
At this injunction from his superior, Felton obeyed; but in going out,he put the knife into his bosom.
As to Lord de Winter, he contented himself with calling the woman whowaited on Milady, and when she was come, he recommended the prisoner,who was still fainting, to her care, and left them alone.
Meanwhile, all things considered and notwithstanding his suspicions, asthe wound might be serious, he immediately sent off a mounted man tofind a physician.
Les trois mousquetaires. English Page 58