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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Three Musketeers 279 at Prostate Health
with an accent that admitted no doubt of her
truth. "Never, never!"
"I believe you," said Mme. Bonacieux; "but why, then, did you cry out
so?"
"Do you not understand?" said Milady, who had already overcome her
agitation and recovered all her presence of mind.
"How can I understand? I know nothing."
"Can you not understand that Monsieur dArtagnan, being my friend, might
take me into his confidence?"
"Truly?"
"Do you not perceive that I know all--your abduction from the little
house at St. Germain, his despair, that of his friends, and their
useless inquiries up to this moment? How could I help being astonished
when, without having the least expectation of such a thing, I meet you
face to face--you, of whom we have so often spoken together, you whom he
loves with all his soul, you whom he had taught me to love before I had
seen you! Ah, dear Constance, I have found you, then; I see you at
last!"
And Milady stretched out her arms to Mme. Bonacieux, who, convinced by
what she had just said, saw nothing in this woman whom an instant before
she had believed her rival but a sincere and devoted friend.
"Oh, pardon me, pardon me!" cried she, sinking upon the shoulders of
Milady. "Pardon me, I love him so much!"
These two women held each other for an instant in a close embrace.
Certainly, if Miladys strength had been equal to her hatred, Mme.
Bonacieux would never have left that embrace alive. But not being able
to stifle her, she smiled upon her.
"Oh, you beautiful, good little creature!" said Milady. "How delighted
I am to have found you! Let me look at you!" and while saying these
words, she absolutely devoured her by her looks. "Oh, yes it is you
indeed! From what he has told me, I know you now. I recognize you
perfectly."
The poor young woman could not possibly suspect what frightful cruelty
was behind the rampart of that pure brow, behind those brilliant eyes in
which she read nothing but interest and compassion.
"Then you know what I have suffered," said Mme. Bonacieux, "since he
has told you what he has suffered; but to suffer for him is happiness."
Milady replied mechanically, "Yes, that is happiness." She was thinking
of something else.
"And then," continued Mme. Bonacieux, "my punishment is drawing to a
close. Tomorrow, this evening, perhaps, I shall see him again; and then
the past will no longer exist."
"This evening?" asked Milady, roused from her reverie by these words.
"What do you mean? Do you expect news from him?"
"I expect himself."
"Himself? DArtagnan here?"
"Himself!"
"But thats impossible! He is at the siege of La Rochelle with the
cardinal. He will not return till after the taking of the city."
"Ah, you fancy so! But is there anything impossible for my dArtagnan,
the noble and loyal gentleman?"
"Oh, I cannot believe you!"
"Well, read, then!" said the unhappy young woman, in the excess of her
pride and joy, presenting a letter to Milady.
"The writing of Madame de Chevreuse!" said Milady to herself. "Ah, I
always thought there was some secret understanding in that quarter!"
And she greedily read the following few lines:
My Dear Child, Hold yourself ready. OUR FRIEND will see you soon,
and he will only see you to release you from that imprisonment in which
your safety required you should be concealed. Prepare, then, for your
departure, and never despair of us.
Our charming Gascon has just proved himself as brave and faithful as
ever. Tell him that certain parties are grateful for the warning he has
given.
"Yes, yes," said Milady; "the letter is precise. Do you know what that
warning was?"
"No, I only suspect he has warned the queen against some fresh
machinations of the cardinal."
"Yes, thats it, no doubt!" said Milady, returning the letter to Mme.
Bonacieux, and letting her head sink pensively upon her bosom.
At that moment they heard the gallop of a horse.
"Oh!" cried Mme. Bonacieux, darting to the window, "can it be he?"
Milady remained still in bed, petrified by surprise; so many unexpected
things happened to her all at once that for the first time she was at a
loss.
"He, he!" murmured she; "can it be he?" And she remained in bed with
her eyes fixed.
"Alas, no!" said Mme. Bonacieux; "it is a man I dont know, although he
seems
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