The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [222]
Seeing this figure as mute and immobile as a statue, Milady was afraid.
“Who are you, and what do you want of me?” she cried.
“So it’s really she!” murmured Athos.
And, letting his cloak fall and taking off his hat, he went towards Milady.
“Do you recognize me, Madame?” he asked.
Milady took one step forward, then recoiled as if she had seen a snake.
“Come,” said Athos, “that’s good, I see you do recognize me.”
“The comte de La Fère!” murmured Milady, turning pale and backing away until the wall prevented her from going further.
“Yes, Milady,” replied Athos, “the comte de La Fère in person, come back from the other world on purpose to have the pleasure of seeing you. Let’s sit down, then, and talk, as Monseigneur le cardinal says.”
Milady, overcome by an inexpressible terror, sat down without saying a word.
“So you are a demon sent to earth?” said Athos. “Your power is great, I know; but you also know that, with God’s help, men have often defeated the most terrible demons. You have already crossed my path; I believed I had crushed you, Madame; but, either I’m mistaken, or hell has resuscitated you.”
At these words, which reminded her of frightful memories, Milady bowed her head with a low moan.
“Yes, hell has resuscitated you,” Athos went on, “hell has made you rich, hell has given you another name, hell has almost fashioned another face for you; but it has not wiped out the stains on your soul, nor the brand on your body.”
Milady stood up as if moved by a spring, and her eyes flashed lightning. Athos remained seated.
“You believed me dead, didn’t you, as I believed you dead? And this name of Athos hid the comte de La Fère, as the name of Milady Clarick hid Anne de Breuil! Wasn’t that what you called yourself when your honorable brother married us? Our position is truly strange,” Athos continued, laughing. “We have both lived up to now only because each of us thought the other dead, and a memory is less disturbing than a live creature, though a memory can sometimes be a devouring thing!”
“But, finally,” said Milady in a hollow voice, “who has brought you to me, and what do you want of me?”
“I want to tell you that, while remaining invisible to your eyes, I myself have not lost sight of you.”
“You know what I have done?”
“I can recount your actions for you day by day, from your entry into the cardinal’s service to this very evening.”
A smile of incredulity passed over Milady’s pale lips.
“Listen: it was you who cut the two diamond pendants from the duke of Buckingham’s shoulder; it was you who had Mme Bonacieux abducted; it was you who, enamoured of de Wardes, and thinking you were spending the night with him, opened your door to M. d’Artagnan; it was you who, believing de Wardes had deceived you, wanted to have him killed by his rival; it was you who, when that rival discovered your infamous secret, wanted to kill him in turn by means of two assassins whom you sent in pursuit of him; it was you who, seeing that the bullets had missed their target, sent poisoned wine with a false letter, to make your victim believe that the wine came from his friends; it was you, finally, who, here in this room, sitting in this chair that I am now sitting in, just undertook with the cardinal de Richelieu to have the duke of Buckingham assassinated, in exchange for the promise he made you to let you assassinate d’Artagnan.”
Milady was livid.
“Are you Satan himself?” she said.
“Perhaps,” said Athos. “But, in any case, listen very well to this: assassinate the duke of Buckingham, or have him assassinated, it matters little to me! I don’t know him, and besides, he’s an Englishman. But do not touch with the tip of your finger a single hair on the head of d’Artagnan, who is a faithful friend whom I love and defend, or, I swear to you on my father’s bones, that attempted crime will be your last.”
“M. d’Artagnan has cruelly offended me,” Milady said in a hollow voice. “M. d’Artagnan will die.”
“Really, is it possible for someone to offend you, Madame?” Athos