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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Three Musketeers 67 at Prostate Health
say--"
"You have answered that you should recognize him," said the
commissary. "That is all very well, and enough for today; before
we proceed further, someone must be informed that you know the
ravisher of your wife."
"But I have not told you that I know him!" cried Bonacieux, in
despair. "I told you, on the contrary--"
"Take away the prisoner," said the commissary to the two guards.
"Where must we place him?" demanded the chief.
"In a dungeon."
"Which?"
"Good Lord! In the first one handy, provided it is safe," said
the commissary, with an indifference which penetrated poor
Bonacieux with horror.
"Alas, alas!" said he to himself, "misfortune is over my head; my
wife must have committed some frightful crime. They believe me
her accomplice, and will punish me with her. She must have
spoken; she must have confessed everything--a woman is so weak!
A dungeon! The first he comes to! Thats it! A night is soon
passed; and tomorrow to the wheel, to the gallows! Oh, my God,
my God, have pity on me!"
Without listening the least in the world to the lamentations of
M. Bonacieux--lamentations to which, besides, they must have been
pretty well accustomed--the two guards took the prisoner each by
an arm, and led him away, while the commissary wrote a letter in
haste and dispatched it by an officer in waiting.
Bonacieux could not close his eyes; not because his dungeon was
so very disagreeable, but because his uneasiness was so great.
He sat all night on his stool, starting at the least noise; and
when the first rays of the sun penetrated into his chamber, the
dawn itself appeared to him to have taken funereal tints.
All at once he heard his bolts drawn, and made a terrified bound.
He believed they were come to conduct him to the scaffold; so
that when he saw merely and simply, instead of the executioner he
expected, only his commissary of the preceding evening, attended
by his clerk, he was ready to embrace them both.
"Your affair has become more complicated since yesterday evening,
my good man, and I advise you to tell the whole truth; for your
repentance alone can remove the anger of the cardinal."
"Why, I am ready to tell everything," cried Bonacieux, "at least,
all that I know. Interrogate me, I entreat you!"
"Where is your wife, in the first place?"
"Why, did not I tell you she had been stolen from me?"
"Yes, but yesterday at five oclock in the afternoon, thanks to
you, she escaped."
"My wife escaped!" cried Bonacieux. "Oh, unfortunate creature!
Monsieur, if she has escaped, it is not my fault, I swear."
"What business had you, then, to go into the chamber of Monsieur
dArtagnan, your neighbor, with whom you had a long conference
during the day?"
"Ah, yes, Monsieur Commissary; yes, that is true, and I confess
that I was in the wrong. I did go to Monsieur dArtagnans."
"What was the aim of that visit?"
"To beg him to assist me in finding my wife. I believed I had a
right to endeavor to find her. I was deceived, as it appears,
and I ask your pardon."
"And what did Monsieur dArtagnan reply?"
"Monsieur dArtagnan promised me his assistance; but I soon found
out that he was betraying me."
"You impose upon justice. Monsieur dArtagnan made a compact
with you; and in virtue of that compact put to flight the police
who had arrested your wife, and has placed her beyond reach."
"Fortunately, Monsieur dArtagnan is in our hands, and you shall
be confronted with him."
"By my faith, I ask no better," cried Bonacieux; "I shall not be
sorry to see the face of an acquaintance."
"Bring in the Monsieur dArtagnan," said the commissary to the
guards. The two guards led in Athos.
"Monsieur dArtagnan," said the commissary, addressing Athos,
"declare all that passed yesterday between you and Monsieur."
"But," cried Bonacieux, "this is not Monsieur dArtagnan whom you
show me."
"What! Not Monsieur dArtagnan?" exclaimed the commissary.
"Not the least in the world," replied Bonacieux.
"What is this gentlemans name?" asked the commissary.
"I cannot tell you; I dont know him."
"How! You dont know him?"
"No."
"Did you never see him?"
"Yes, I have seen him, but I dont know what he calls himself."
"Your name?" replied the commissary.
"Athos," replied the Musketeer.
"But that is not a mans name; that is the name of a mountain,"
cried the poor questioner, who began to lose his head.
"That is my name," said Athos, quietly.
"But you said
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