The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [272]
“What do you want of me?” she demanded.
“Listen,” Felton said in a low voice, “I have just sent away the sentinel so I could stay here without anyone knowing about it. I came to speak to you without being overheard. Lord Winter has just told me a most horrible story.”
Milady, reassuming the smile of a resigned victim, shook her head.
“Either you are a demon,” Felton went on, “or Lord Winter, my benefactor, my father, is a monster. I have known you just four days, I have loved him for years; I therefore may hesitate between you. Do not be afraid at what I say, I want to be convinced. I shall come to see you tonight, shortly after twelve; I shall hear your story and you will convince me.”
“No, Felton, no, my brother, your sacrifice is too great and I know what it costs you. No, I am ruined; do not let me encompass you in my ruin. My death will speak for me much more eloquently than my life; the silence of the corpse will convince you more surely than the words of the prisoner.”
“Hush My Lady, do not speak thus! I came to implore you to promise upon your honor and to swear by all you hold most sacred that you will not make an attempt upon your life.”
“I will not promise, Felton, for no one has more respect for a promise or an oath than I have. If I make a promise, I must keep it.”
“Very well. But promise me you will do nothing until we have met again. After we have talked, if you still persist, then you shall be free and I myself will give you the weapon you desire.”
“For your sake, I will wait.”
“Swear it!”
“I swear I will, by our God, the true God. Are you satisfied?”
“I am. Till tonight, then!”
Whereupon he darted out of the room, closed the door, and waited in the corridor, the sentry’s short pike in his hand, as if he had mounted guard in his place. When the soldier returned, Felton gave him back his weapon. Milady, peeping through the grating, saw the young officer cross himself with delirious fervor. From his expression, she was convinced he was beyond himself with joy.
For her part she returned to a chair. A smile of savage contempt curled her lips. And, blaspheming, she repeated the awesome name of that God by whom she had sworn without ever having learned to know Him.
“O God, what an insane fanatic!” she sneered. “Did I say God? I am my own God, vengeance is mine, I will repay. And that young Puritan fool will help me do so!”
LVI
CAPTIVITY: THE FIFTH DAY
The half-triumph she had achieved heartened Milady and doubled her strength. Hitherto she had found no difficulty in conquering men who allowed themselves to be seduced and whose education in gallantry at Court made them an easy prey. She was beautiful enough not to encounter much resistance on the part of the flesh and clever enough to overcome all the obstacles of the spirit.
This time, however, she had to contend with a rude, concentrated nature, whose austerity foiled even the most skilful appeal to the senses. Religion and penitence had made of Felton a man inaccessible to ordinary seductions. Such vast, grandiose and tumultuous plans stormed his fanatical brain that no place remained for any love, whether capricious or material, because love feeds upon leisure and grows by dint of corruption. Thanks to her sham virtue, Milady had made a breach in the opinion of a man horribly prejudiced against her; by her beauty she had made inroads upon the heart of a heart hitherto chaste and pure. Her successful experiment taught her the full efficacy of her charms. Had she not just reduced to her will the most refractory subject that nature and religion could possibly have offered?
Yet throughout the evening she had often doubted of fate and despaired of herself. She called upon God solely for purposes of humbug and these purposes had been fruitful. Her true