The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [277]
“Ah! now I have only one thing to ask you, and that is the name of your true executioner—because for me there is only one; the other was no more than an instrument.”
“What, brother?” cried Milady. “Must I still name him for you? Haven’t you guessed?”
“What?” replied Felton. “Him!…him again!…always him!…You mean the real guilty one is…”
“The real guilty one,” said Milady, “is the ravager of England, the persecutor of true believers, the cowardly ravisher of so many women’s honor, he who on a whim of his corrupt heart is going to spill so much of the blood of two kingdoms, who protects the Protestants today and will betray them tomorrow…”
“Buckingham! So it’s Buckingham!” cried the exasperated Felton.
Milady hid her face in her hands, as if she could not bear the shame that his name brought back to her.
“Buckingham, the executioner of this angelic creature!” cried Felton. “And you did not strike him down, my God! And you have left him noble, honored, powerful, for the ruin of us all!”
“God abandons those who abandon themselves,” said Milady.
“But he wants, then, to draw down on that head the punishment reserved for the damned!” Felton went on with growing excitement. “He wants, then, that human justice forestall heavenly justice!”
“Men fear him and spare him.”
“Oh, but I,” said Felton, “I do not fear him, and I will not spare him!”
Milady felt her soul bathed in an infernal joy.
“But how does Lord de Winter, my protector, my father, find himself mixed up in all this?” asked Felton.
“Listen, Felton,” Milady picked up, “it’s because alongside cowardly and despicable men, there are always great and generous natures. I had a fiancé, a man I loved and who loved me—a heart like yours, Felton, a man like you. I went to him and told him all. The man knew me and didn’t doubt me for a moment. He was a great lord, a man equal in every point to Buckingham. He said nothing, he simply buckled on his sword, wrapped himself in his cloak, and went to Buckingham Palace.”
“Yes, yes,” said Felton, “I understand—though with such men it’s not the sword one should use, but the dagger.”
“Buckingham had left the previous day, sent as ambassador to Spain, where he went to ask the hand of the infanta for King Charles I, who was then only the Prince of Wales.190 My fiancé came back.
“‘Listen,’ he said to me, ‘the man has left, and, consequently, for the moment he has escaped my vengeance; but in the meantime let us be united, as we should be; then rely on Lord de Winter to uphold his own honor and that of his wife.’”
“Lord de Winter!” cried Felton.
“Yes,” said Milady, “Lord de Winter. And now you surely understand everything, don’t you? Buckingham remained absent for more than a year. Eight days before his arrival, Lord de Winter died suddenly, leaving me his sole heir. Where did the blow come from? God, who knows all, must know that; I accuse no one…”
“Oh, what an abyss, what an abyss!” cried Felton.
“Lord de Winter died without saying anything to his brother. The terrible secret was to be kept hidden from everyone, until it broke like thunder on the head of the guilty one. Your protector had taken a dim view of his older brother’s marriage to a young girl with no fortune. I felt that I could not expect any support from a man disappointed in his hopes of inheritance. I went over to France, resolved to remain there for the rest of my life. But all my fortune is in England; with communications closed by the war, I lacked for everything; I had to come back. Six days ago I landed in Portsmouth.”
“Well?” said Felton.
“Well! Buckingham no doubt learned of my return, spoke of it to Lord de Winter, who was already warned against me, and told him that his sister-in-law was a prostitute, a branded woman. The pure and noble voice of my husband was no longer there to defend me. Lord de Winter believed everything he was told,