Reading Help The Three Musketeers Ch.41-67
The young man advanced rapidly into the chamber, leaving the door `
` open behind him, and making a sign to Milady to be silent; his `
` face was much agitated. `
` `
` "What do you want with me?" said she. `
` `
` "Listen," replied Felton, in a low voice. "I have just sent away `
` the sentinel that I might remain here without anybody knowing it, `
` in order to speak to you without being overheard. The baron has `
` just related a frightful 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--my `
` benefactor, my father--is a monster. I have known you four days; `
` I have loved him four years. I therefore may hesitate between `
` you. Be not alarmed at what I say; I want to be convinced. `
` Tonight, after twelve, I will come and see you, and you shall `
` convince me." `
` `
` "No, Felton, no, my brother," said she; "the sacrifice is too `
` great, and I feel what it must cost you. No, I am lost; do not `
` be lost with me. My death will be much more eloquent than my `
` life, and the silence of the corpse will convince you much better `
` than the words of the prisoner." `
` `
` "Be silent, madame," cried Felton, "and do not speak to me thus; `
` I came to entreat you to promise me upon your honor, to swear to `
` me by what you hold most sacred, that you will make no attempt `
` upon your life." `
` `
` "I will not promise," said Milady, "for no one has more respect `
` for a promise 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, when you 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 the `
` corridor, the soldier's half-pike in his hand, and as if he had `
` mounted guard 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 `
` the young man make a sign with delirious fervor, and depart in an `
` apparent transport of joy. `
` `
` As for her, she returned to her place with a smile of savage `
` contempt upon her lips, and repeated, blaspheming, that terrible `
` name of God, by whom 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--and this fellow who will help me to avenge myself." `
` `
` `
` `
` 56 CAPTIVITY: THE FIFTH DAY `
` `
` Milady had however achieved a half-triumph, and success doubled `
` her forces. `
` `
` It was not difficult to conquer, as she had hitherto done, men `
` prompt to let themselves be seduced, and whom the gallant `
` education of a court led quickly into her net. Milady was `
` handsome enough not to find much resistance on the part of the `
` flesh, and she was sufficiently skillful to prevail over all the `
` obstacles of the mind. `
` `
` But this time she had to contend with an unpolished nature, `
` concentrated and insensible by force of austerity. Religion and `
` its observances had made Felton a man inaccessible to ordinary `
` seductions. There fermented in that sublimated brain plans so `
` vast, projects so tumultuous, that there remained no room for any `
` capricious or material love--that sentiment which is fed by `
` leisure and grows with corruption. Milady had, then, made a `
` breach by her false virtue in the opinion of a man horribly `
` prejudiced against her, and by her beauty in the heart of a man `
` hitherto chaste and pure. In short, she had taken the `
` measure of motives hitherto unknown to herself, through this `
` experiment, made upon the most rebellious subject that nature and `
` religion could submit to her study. `
` `
` Many a time, nevertheless, during the evening she despaired of `
` fate and of herself. She did not invoke God, we very well know, `
` but she had faith in the genius of evil--that immense sovereignty `
` which reigns in all the details of human life, and by which, as `
` in the Arabian fable, a single pomegranate seed is sufficient to `
` reconstruct a ruined world. `
` `
` Milady, being well prepared for the reception of Felton, was able `
` to erect her batteries for the next day. She knew she had only `
` two days left; that when once the order was signed by Buckingham-- `
` and Buckingham would sign it the more readily from its bearing a `
` false name, and he could not, therefore, recognize the woman in `
` question--once this order was signed, we say, the baron would `
` make her embark immediately, and she knew very well that women `
` condemned to exile employ arms much less powerful in their `
` seductions than the pretendedly virtuous woman whose beauty is `
` lighted by the sun of the world, whose style the voice of fashion `
` lauds, and whom a halo of aristocracy gilds with enchanting `
` splendors. To be a woman condemned to a painful and disgraceful `
` punishment is no impediment to beauty, but it is an obstacle to `
` the recovery of power. Like all persons of real genius, Milady `
` knew what suited her nature and her means. Poverty was repugnant `
` to her; degradation took away two-thirds of her greatness. `
` Milady was only a queen while among queens. The pleasure of `
` satisfied pride was necessary to her domination. To command `
` inferior beings was rather a humiliation than a pleasure for her. `
` `
` She should certainly return from her exile--she did not doubt `
` that a single instant; but how long might this exile last? For `
` an active, ambitious nature, like that of Milady, days not spent `
` in climbing are inauspicious days. What word, then, can be found `
` to describe the days which they occupy in descending? To lose a `
` year, two years, three years, is to talk of an eternity; to `
` return after the death or disgrace of the cardinal, perhaps; to `
` return when d'Artagnan and his friends, happy and triumphant, `
` should have received from the queen the reward they had well `
` acquired by the services they had rendered her--these were `
` devouring ideas that a woman like Milady could not endure. For `
` the rest, the storm which raged within her doubled her strength, `
` and she would have burst the walls of her prison if her body had `
` been able to take for a single instant the proportions of her `
` mind. `
` `
` Then that which spurred her on additionally in the midst of all `
` this was the remembrance of the cardinal. What must the `
` mistrustful, restless, suspicious cardinal think of her silence-- `
` the cardinal, not merely her only support, her only prop, her `
` only protector at present, but still further, the principal `
` instrument of her future fortune and vengeance? She knew him; `
` she knew that at her return from a fruitless journey it would be `
` in vain to tell him of her imprisonment, in vain to enlarge upon `
` the sufferings she had undergone. The cardinal would reply, with `
` the sarcastic calmness of the skeptic, strong at once by power `
` and genius, "You should not have allowed yourself to be taken." `
` `
` Then Milady collected all her energies, murmuring in the depths `
` of her soul the name of Felton--the only beam of light that `
` penetrated to her in the hell into which she had fallen; and like `
` a serpent which folds and unfolds its rings to ascertain its `
` strength, she enveloped Felton beforehand in the thousand meshes `
` of her inventive imagination. `
` `
` Time, however, passed away; the hours, one after another, seemed `
` to awaken the clock as they passed, and every blow of the brass `
` hammer resounded upon the heart of the prisoner. At nine `
` o'clock, Lord de Winter made his customary visit, examined the `
` window and the bars, sounded the floor and the walls, looked to `
` the chimney and the doors, without, during this long and minute `
` examination, he or Milady pronouncing a single word. `
` `
` Doubtless both of them understood that the situation had become `
` too serious to lose time in useless words and aimless wrath. `
` `
` "Well," said the baron, on leaving her "you will not escape `
` tonight!" `
` `
` At ten o'clock Felton came and placed the sentinel. Milady `
` recognized his step. She was as well acquainted with it now as a `
` mistress is with that of the lover of her heart; and yet Milady `
` at the same time detested and despised this weak fanatic. `
` `
` That was not the appointed hour. Felton did not enter. `
` `
` Two hours after, as midnight sounded, the sentinel was relieved. `
` This time it WAS the hour, and from this moment Milady waited `
` with impatience. The new sentinel commenced his walk in the `
` corridor. At the expiration of ten minutes Felton came. `
` `
` Milady was all attention. `
` `
` "Listen," said the young man to the sentinel. "On no pretense `
` leave the door, for you know that last night my Lord punished a `
` soldier for having quit his post for an instant, although I, `
` during his absence, watched in his place." `
` `
` "Yes, I know it," said the soldier. `
` `
` "I recommend you therefore to keep the strictest watch. For my `
` part I am going to pay a second visit to this woman, who I fear `
` entertains sinister intentions upon her own life, and I have `
` received orders to watch her." `
` `
` "Good!" murmured Milady; "the austere Puritan lies." `
` `
` As to the soldier, he only smiled. `
` `
`
` open behind him, and making a sign to Milady to be silent; his `
` face was much agitated. `
` `
` "What do you want with me?" said she. `
` `
` "Listen," replied Felton, in a low voice. "I have just sent away `
` the sentinel that I might remain here without anybody knowing it, `
` in order to speak to you without being overheard. The baron has `
` just related a frightful 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--my `
` benefactor, my father--is a monster. I have known you four days; `
` I have loved him four years. I therefore may hesitate between `
` you. Be not alarmed at what I say; I want to be convinced. `
` Tonight, after twelve, I will come and see you, and you shall `
` convince me." `
` `
` "No, Felton, no, my brother," said she; "the sacrifice is too `
` great, and I feel what it must cost you. No, I am lost; do not `
` be lost with me. My death will be much more eloquent than my `
` life, and the silence of the corpse will convince you much better `
` than the words of the prisoner." `
` `
` "Be silent, madame," cried Felton, "and do not speak to me thus; `
` I came to entreat you to promise me upon your honor, to swear to `
` me by what you hold most sacred, that you will make no attempt `
` upon your life." `
` `
` "I will not promise," said Milady, "for no one has more respect `
` for a promise 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, when you 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 the `
` corridor, the soldier's half-pike in his hand, and as if he had `
` mounted guard 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 `
` the young man make a sign with delirious fervor, and depart in an `
` apparent transport of joy. `
` `
` As for her, she returned to her place with a smile of savage `
` contempt upon her lips, and repeated, blaspheming, that terrible `
` name of God, by whom 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--and this fellow who will help me to avenge myself." `
` `
` `
` `
` 56 CAPTIVITY: THE FIFTH DAY `
` `
` Milady had however achieved a half-triumph, and success doubled `
` her forces. `
` `
` It was not difficult to conquer, as she had hitherto done, men `
` prompt to let themselves be seduced, and whom the gallant `
` education of a court led quickly into her net. Milady was `
` handsome enough not to find much resistance on the part of the `
` flesh, and she was sufficiently skillful to prevail over all the `
` obstacles of the mind. `
` `
` But this time she had to contend with an unpolished nature, `
` concentrated and insensible by force of austerity. Religion and `
` its observances had made Felton a man inaccessible to ordinary `
` seductions. There fermented in that sublimated brain plans so `
` vast, projects so tumultuous, that there remained no room for any `
` capricious or material love--that sentiment which is fed by `
` leisure and grows with corruption. Milady had, then, made a `
` breach by her false virtue in the opinion of a man horribly `
` prejudiced against her, and by her beauty in the heart of a man `
` hitherto chaste and pure. In short, she had taken the `
` measure of motives hitherto unknown to herself, through this `
` experiment, made upon the most rebellious subject that nature and `
` religion could submit to her study. `
` `
` Many a time, nevertheless, during the evening she despaired of `
` fate and of herself. She did not invoke God, we very well know, `
` but she had faith in the genius of evil--that immense sovereignty `
` which reigns in all the details of human life, and by which, as `
` in the Arabian fable, a single pomegranate seed is sufficient to `
` reconstruct a ruined world. `
` `
` Milady, being well prepared for the reception of Felton, was able `
` to erect her batteries for the next day. She knew she had only `
` two days left; that when once the order was signed by Buckingham-- `
` and Buckingham would sign it the more readily from its bearing a `
` false name, and he could not, therefore, recognize the woman in `
` question--once this order was signed, we say, the baron would `
` make her embark immediately, and she knew very well that women `
` condemned to exile employ arms much less powerful in their `
` seductions than the pretendedly virtuous woman whose beauty is `
` lighted by the sun of the world, whose style the voice of fashion `
` lauds, and whom a halo of aristocracy gilds with enchanting `
` splendors. To be a woman condemned to a painful and disgraceful `
` punishment is no impediment to beauty, but it is an obstacle to `
` the recovery of power. Like all persons of real genius, Milady `
` knew what suited her nature and her means. Poverty was repugnant `
` to her; degradation took away two-thirds of her greatness. `
` Milady was only a queen while among queens. The pleasure of `
` satisfied pride was necessary to her domination. To command `
` inferior beings was rather a humiliation than a pleasure for her. `
` `
` She should certainly return from her exile--she did not doubt `
` that a single instant; but how long might this exile last? For `
` an active, ambitious nature, like that of Milady, days not spent `
` in climbing are inauspicious days. What word, then, can be found `
` to describe the days which they occupy in descending? To lose a `
` year, two years, three years, is to talk of an eternity; to `
` return after the death or disgrace of the cardinal, perhaps; to `
` return when d'Artagnan and his friends, happy and triumphant, `
` should have received from the queen the reward they had well `
` acquired by the services they had rendered her--these were `
` devouring ideas that a woman like Milady could not endure. For `
` the rest, the storm which raged within her doubled her strength, `
` and she would have burst the walls of her prison if her body had `
` been able to take for a single instant the proportions of her `
` mind. `
` `
` Then that which spurred her on additionally in the midst of all `
` this was the remembrance of the cardinal. What must the `
` mistrustful, restless, suspicious cardinal think of her silence-- `
` the cardinal, not merely her only support, her only prop, her `
` only protector at present, but still further, the principal `
` instrument of her future fortune and vengeance? She knew him; `
` she knew that at her return from a fruitless journey it would be `
` in vain to tell him of her imprisonment, in vain to enlarge upon `
` the sufferings she had undergone. The cardinal would reply, with `
` the sarcastic calmness of the skeptic, strong at once by power `
` and genius, "You should not have allowed yourself to be taken." `
` `
` Then Milady collected all her energies, murmuring in the depths `
` of her soul the name of Felton--the only beam of light that `
` penetrated to her in the hell into which she had fallen; and like `
` a serpent which folds and unfolds its rings to ascertain its `
` strength, she enveloped Felton beforehand in the thousand meshes `
` of her inventive imagination. `
` `
` Time, however, passed away; the hours, one after another, seemed `
` to awaken the clock as they passed, and every blow of the brass `
` hammer resounded upon the heart of the prisoner. At nine `
` o'clock, Lord de Winter made his customary visit, examined the `
` window and the bars, sounded the floor and the walls, looked to `
` the chimney and the doors, without, during this long and minute `
` examination, he or Milady pronouncing a single word. `
` `
` Doubtless both of them understood that the situation had become `
` too serious to lose time in useless words and aimless wrath. `
` `
` "Well," said the baron, on leaving her "you will not escape `
` tonight!" `
` `
` At ten o'clock Felton came and placed the sentinel. Milady `
` recognized his step. She was as well acquainted with it now as a `
` mistress is with that of the lover of her heart; and yet Milady `
` at the same time detested and despised this weak fanatic. `
` `
` That was not the appointed hour. Felton did not enter. `
` `
` Two hours after, as midnight sounded, the sentinel was relieved. `
` This time it WAS the hour, and from this moment Milady waited `
` with impatience. The new sentinel commenced his walk in the `
` corridor. At the expiration of ten minutes Felton came. `
` `
` Milady was all attention. `
` `
` "Listen," said the young man to the sentinel. "On no pretense `
` leave the door, for you know that last night my Lord punished a `
` soldier for having quit his post for an instant, although I, `
` during his absence, watched in his place." `
` `
` "Yes, I know it," said the soldier. `
` `
` "I recommend you therefore to keep the strictest watch. For my `
` part I am going to pay a second visit to this woman, who I fear `
` entertains sinister intentions upon her own life, and I have `
` received orders to watch her." `
` `
` "Good!" murmured Milady; "the austere Puritan lies." `
` `
` As to the soldier, he only smiled. `
` `
`