The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [308]
“That’s me, that’s me!” she murmured, at the height of terror. “What do you want of me?”
“We want to judge you according to your crimes,” said Athos. “You will be free to defend yourself. Justify yourself, if you can. M. d’Artagnan, it is for you to make the first accusation.”
D’Artagnan stepped forward.
“Before God and men,” he said, “I accuse this woman of poisoning Constance Bonacieux, who died yesterday evening.”
He turned to Porthos and Aramis.
“We testify to it,” the two musketeers said with one impulse.
D’Artagnan continued.
“Before God and men, I accuse this woman of having wished to poison me by means of wine she had sent to me from Villeroy with a false letter, as if the wine came from my friends. God saved me, but a man whose name was Brisemont is dead in my place.”
“We testify to it,” Porthos and Aramis said with one voice.
“Before God and men, I accuse this woman of having urged me to murder the baron de Wardes, “and, as no one is here to testify to the truth of this accusation, I testify to it myself. I have spoken.”
And d’Artagnan crossed to the other side of the room with Porthos and Aramis.
“It is your turn, Milord!” said Athos.
The baron stepped forward.
“Before God and men,” he said, “I accuse this woman of having the duke of Buckingham assassinated.”
“The duke of Buckingham assassinated?” those present all cried out as one.
“Yes,” said the baron, “assassinated! On receiving your letter of warning, I had this woman arrested, and I placed her in the custody of a loyal servant. She corrupted the man, she put the dagger in his hand, she had him kill the duke, and at this very moment, perhaps, Felton is paying for this fury’s crime with his head.”
A shudder ran through the judges at the revealing of these previously unknown crimes.
“That is not all,” Lord de Winter went on. “My brother, who had made you his heir, died in three hours of a strange illness which left livid spots all over his body. My sister, how did your husband die?”
“What horror!” cried Porthos and Aramis.
“Assassin of Buckingham, assassin of Felton, assassin of my brother, I demand justice against you, and I declare that if it is not done me, I will do it myself.”
And Lord de Winter went to stand beside d’Artagnan, leaving his place open for another accuser.
Milady buried her face in her hands and tried to collect her wits, caught up in a deadly whirl.
“It is my turn,” said Athos, trembling as a lion trembles at the sight of a snake, “it is my turn. I married this woman when she was a young girl; I married her in spite of all my family; I gave her my property, I gave her my name; and one day I discovered that this woman was branded: this woman was marked with a fleur-de-lis on her left shoulder.”
“Oh!” said Milady, rising, “I defy you to find the tribunal that pronounced that infamous sentence against me. I defy you to find the one who carried it out.”
“Silence,” said a voice. “That is for me to answer!”
And the man in the red cloak stepped forward in his turn.
“Who is this man, who is this man?” cried Milady, choking with terror, her hair undone and standing up on her livid head as if alive.
All eyes turned to this man, for he was unknown to all of them except Athos.
But Athos, too, looked at him with as much stupefaction as the others, for he did not know how he could turn out to be involved somehow in the horrible drama that was unfolding at that moment.
After approaching Milady with a slow and solemn step, so that only the table separated him from her, the unknown man took off his mask.
With ever increasing terror, Milady gazed for a long time at that pale face framed by black hair and side-whiskers, whose only expression was an icy impassivity. All at once she said, “Oh, no, no!”—getting up and backing towards the wall. “Help me! help me!” she cried in a hoarse voice, turning to the wall, as if she could open a way through it with her hands.
“But who are you, then?” cried all the