The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [265]
“O my God, my God,” she cried, “Thou knowest in what holy cause I endure tribulation. Give me then strength, I pray, to bear my trial with fortitude and charity!”
The door opened gently; the beautiful supplicant, pretending to hear nothing, continued in a tearful voice:
“O God of vengeance, O God of grace, wilt Thou suffer the abominable plots of this man to be carried out!”
Then only she feigned to hear the sound of Felton’s footsteps. Rising, quick as thought, she blushed as if ashamed of being surprised on her knees.
“I would not wish to disturb anyone who is praying, My Lady,” said Felton gravely. “Pray continue your devotions, I would not wish you to interrupt them on my account.”
“How do you know that I was praying, sir?” she asked in a voice broken by sobs. “You are mistaken I assure you; I was not praying.”
In the same serious voice but in a gentler tone, Felton went on:
“Surely you do not think I assume the right to prevent a fellow creature from bowing down before the Creator? God forbid! Besides, My Lady, repentance becomes the guilty. Whatever crime they may have committed, I hold the guilty to be sacred when they do obeisance at the feet of God.”
“Guilty?” Milady protested. “I, guilty?” Her smile would have disarmed the angel on the Day of Judgment: “Guilty! Ah God, Thou knowest whether I am innocent or guilty! Say that I have been sentenced, sir, if you will; but as you know, that God Who loves martyrs sometimes allows the innocent to be condemned.”
“Your condemnation itself is reason enough for prayer,” Felton replied. “But if you are innocent, the stronger the reason, and I shall add my own prayers on your behalf.”
“Oh! how just, how righteous a man you are!” cried Milady throwing herself at his feet. “I cannot hold out any longer; I am desperately afraid of weakening when I shall be called upon to face the ordeal and confess my faith. I implore you, sir, to listen to the plea of a woman in despair. You have been deceived about me but that is not the question. I only ask one favor, no more; if you grant it, I shall bless you both in this world and in the next.”
“You must speak to my master, Madame,” Felton replied. “I am not so fortunately placed as to mete out pardon or punishment. God has placed this responsibility in the hands of one who is of loftier station than I.”
“No, I shall speak to you, to you alone! I beg you to listen to me instead of contributing to my shame and ruin.”
“If you deserved this shame and invited this ruin, you must submit to it as an offering to God.”
“What? What are you saying, man? Oh, why can’t you understand? When I speak of shame, you think I speak of some sort of punishment—prison, say, or the gallows? Would to Heaven these might be my lot! What do I care about prison or death?”
“Now I, in turn, do not understand.”
“Or rather you pretend not to understand me, sir,” the prisoner replied, smiling incredulously.
“Nay, on my honor as a soldier and my faith as a Christian, I swear that is not true.”
“Do you mean to tell me you are ignorant of Lord Winter’s designs upon my person?”
“I assure you I am quite ignorant of them.”
“Impossible. You are his confidant!”
“I beg you to observe that I am not in the habit of lying, My Lady.”
“But Lord Winter makes no mystery of his purpose. How can you help but guess it?”
“I have no wish to guess anything,” Felton explained. “I wait until someone confides in me. Except for what Lord Winter has told me in your presence, he has confided nothing to me.”
“So you are not his accomplice!” Milady cried with a feigned sincerity that was utterly convincing. “Then you did not even suspect that he intends to bring down upon my head a disgrace that all the punishments of all the earth cannot match in their horror?”
“You are mistaken, My Lady,” Felton protested, blushing. “Lord Winter is incapable of any such crime.”
“Perfect!” Milady said to herself. “He knows nothing about all this, yet he calls