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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Three Musketeers 229 at Prostate Health
at length
stopped in a court large, dark, and square. Almost immediately
the door of the carriage was opened, the young man sprang lightly
out and presented his hand to Milady, who leaned upon it, and in
her turn alighted with tolerable calmness.
"Still, then, I am a prisoner," said Milady, looking around her,
and bringing back her eyes with a most gracious smile to the
young officer; "but I feel assured it will not be for long,"
added she. "My own conscience and your politeness, sir, are the
guarantees of that."
However flattering this compliment, the officer made no reply;
but drawing from his belt a little silver whistle, such as
boatswains use in ships of war, he whistled three times, with
three different modulations. Immediately several men appeared,
who unharnessed the smoking horses, and put the carriage into a
coach house.
Then the officer, with the same calm politeness, invited his
prisoner to enter the house. She, with a still-smiling
countenance, took his arm, and passed with him under a low arched
door, which by a vaulted passage, lighted only at the farther
end, led to a stone staircase around an angle of stone. They
then came to a massive door, which after the introduction into
the lock of a key which the young man carried with him, turned
heavily upon its hinges, and disclosed the chamber destined for
Milady.
With a single glance the prisoner took in the apartment in its
minutest details. It was a chamber whose furniture was at once
appropriate for a prisoner or a free man; and yet bars at the
windows and outside bolts at the door decided the question in
favor of the prison.
In an instant all the strength of mind of this creature, though
drawn from the most vigorous sources, abandoned her; she sank
into a large easy chair, with her arms crossed, her head lowered,
and expecting every instant to see a judge enter to interrogate
her.
But no one entered except two or three marines, who brought her
trunks and packages, deposited them in a corner, and retired
without speaking.
The officer superintended all these details with the same
calmness Milady had constantly seen in him, never pronouncing a
word himself, and making himself obeyed by a gesture of his hand
or a sound of his whistle.
It might have been said that between this man and his inferiors
spoken language did not exist, or had become useless.
At length Milady could hold out no longer; she broke the silence.
"In the name of heaven, sir," cried she, "what means all that is
passing? Put an end to my doubts; I have courage enough for any
danger I can foresee, for every misfortune which I understand.
Where am I, and why am I here? If I am free, why these bars and
these doors? If I am a prisoner, what crime have I committed?"
"You are here in the apartment destined for you, madame. I
received orders to go and take charge of you on the sea, and to
conduct you to this castle. This order I believe I have
accomplished with all the exactness of a soldier, but also with
the courtesy of a gentleman. There terminates, at least to the
present moment, the duty I had to fulfill toward you; the rest
concerns another person."
"And who is that other person?" asked Milady, warmly. "Can you
not tell me his name?"
At the moment a great jingling of spurs was heard on the stairs.
Some voices passed and faded away, and the sound of a single
footstep approached the door.
"That person is here, madame," said the officer, leaving the
entrance open, and drawing himself up in an attitude of respect.
At the same time the door opened; a man appeared on the
threshold. He was without a hat, carried a sword, and flourished
a handkerchief in his hand.
Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom; she
supported herself with one hand upon the arm of the chair, and
advanced her head as if to meet a certainty.
The stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced, after entering
into the circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady
involuntarily drew back.
Then when she had no longer any doubt, she cried, in a state of
stupor, "What, my brother, is it you?"
"Yes, fair lady!" replied Lord de Winter, making a bow, half
courteous, half ironical; "it is I, myself."
"But this castle, then?"
"Is mine."
"This chamber?"
"Is yours."
"I am, then, your prisoner?"
"Nearly so."
"But this is a frightful
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