The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [273]
“I was careful to empty half of the carafe, so that my mistrust would not be noticed.
“Evening came, and darkness with it. However, deep as it was, my eyes began to get used to it. Amidst the gloom, I saw the table sink into the floor; a quarter of an hour later, it reappeared bearing my supper; a moment later, thanks to the same lamp, my room was lit up again.
“I was determined to eat only things in which it was impossible to mix any sleeping potion: two eggs and some fruit made up my meal. Then I went to draw a glass of water from my protective fountain, and I drank it.
“At the first few sips, it seemed to me that it did not have the same taste as in the morning. A quick suspicion seized me, and I stopped; but I had already drunk half a glass.
“I threw out the rest in fright, and waited, the sweat of terror on my brow.
“No doubt some invisible witness had seen me take water from that fountain, and had profited from my very confidence to better assure my ruin, so coldly resolved upon and so cruelly pursued.
“Half an hour had not gone by when the same symptoms appeared; but as I had only drunk half a glass this time, I struggled longer, and instead of falling asleep completely, I fell into a state of somnolence that left me aware of what was happening around me, while depriving me of the strength either to defend myself or to flee.
“I dragged myself towards my bed, to find there the sole defense that remained to me, my saving knife; but I could not get as far as the bed head: I fell on my knees, my hands clinging to one of the posts of the foot. Then I realized that I was lost.”
Felton turned dreadfully pale, and a convulsive shiver ran all through his body.
“And what was most dreadful of all,” Milady went on, her voice broken, as if she still felt the same anguish as at that terrible moment, “was that this time I was conscious of the danger that threatened me; it was that my soul, as I may say, remained awake in my sleeping body; it was that I could see, I could hear—true, it was all as if in a dream, but that only made it the more frightening.
“I saw the lamp going up and gradually leaving me in darkness; then I heard the so familiar creak of that door, though the door had only opened twice.
“I felt instinctively that someone was approaching me. They say that the wretch lost in the deserts of America can feel the approach of a snake in the same way.
“I wanted to make an effort, I tried to cry out; with an incredible energy of will I even raised myself, but only to fall again at once…into the arms of my persecutor.”
“Will you tell me who this man was?” cried the young officer.
Milady saw at a single glance all the suffering she was causing Felton by lingering over each detail of her story, but she did not want to spare him any torture. The more profoundly she wrung his heart, the more surely he would avenge her. She thus went on as if she had not heard his exclamation, or as if she thought the moment had not yet come to reply to it.
“Only this time it was not some sort of inert, unfeeling corpse that the infamous man was dealing with. I’ve told you: though unable to recover the full use of my faculties, I remained aware of my danger. I thus fought with all my strength, and, weak as I was, I must have put up a long resistance, for I heard him cry out:
“‘These wretched Puritans! I knew they wearied their executioners, but I thought them less strong against their seducers.’
“Alas, this desperate resistance could not continue long! I felt my strength failing; and this time it was not my sleep that the coward profited from, but my fainting.”
Felton listened without making any other sound than a sort of muffled growl; but the sweat streamed down his marble brow, and his hand, hidden under his clothing, tore his breast.
“My first impulse, on regaining consciousness, was to look under my pillow for the knife I had been unable to reach.