Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 57: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

md - oe ie 1 - the third man of his party. a ‘* A letter from a woman, my lord.” ‘‘Oh, I understand,"’ said the cardinal ; discretion is necessary asto epistles of that kind ; but nevertheles they may be shown to a confessor, and you know I am in orders.”’ ‘My lord,” said Athos, with a calmness the more fearful, as be slightiy moved his head whilst making this answer: ‘* my lord, the letter is from a woman, but it is not signed either by Marion Delorme, nor by Mad- ame de Courbalet, nor Madame de Chaulnes.”’ The cardinal became as pale as death, A sav was emiited from his eyes. » flash muskets, on which the eyes of his three friends were fixed, like men who were not inclined to allow them- selves to be arrested. their valets, were seven. ame would be still more unequal, if Athos and his riends should really conspire ; and, by one of those rapid changes which he always had at command, all his anger melted into a smile. — ‘Come, come,’ said he, “you are brave young men, proud in the sunshine, but faithful in the dark; and there isno great harm in keeping a good waich over yourselves, when you watch so well men, I have not forgotten the night when you served as my escort in going to the Re was any danger to be feared on the road I am about to take, I would beg you to accompany me; but as there is none, remain where you are, and finish your wine, your game, and your letter. Adieu, gentlemen.” Andagain mounting his horse, which Cahusac had brought him, he saluted them with his hand, and went his way. The four young men, erect and motionless, followed him with theireyes, but without uttering a word until he was out of sight. Then they looked at one another. The countenances of all of them indicated consterna- tion; for, in spite of the amicable adieu of his eminence, they al knew that the cardinal had gone away with rage in his heart. Athos alone smiled with a haughty and disdainful smile. When the cardinal was out of reach of sound as well as sight—- ‘That Grimand called out ve who had a great desire to vent one. Grimaud was about to answer by excusing himeelf when Athos raised his finger, and Grimaud remain silent. " ‘* Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?’’ said 4'Artagnan. 7 a decided,’ said Aramis, in the softest, most melodious voice, ‘if he had persisted in requiring the letter, that I would have presented it to him with one hand, and passed my sword through his body with the other.” ‘*]T expected as much,’’s aid Athos, ‘‘and thatis the reason that Ithrew myself between you. Verily, that man is extremely sn aya to talk in such style to other men. One wonld imagine that he had never been engaged with my but women and children.” **My dear Athos,”’ said d’Artagnan, *‘I admire you; but yet we were wrong after all.”’ “How wrong?’ said Athos. ‘‘ Whose, then, is this air we breathe? Whose this ocean over which our looks extend? Whose is this land on which we are re- clined? Whose is this letter from your mistress? Do all these belong to the cardinal? Upon my honor, this man fancies that the world belongs to him. There were you, stammering, stupefied and overwhelmed as though the Bastile stared you in the face, and the gigantic Medusa had transformed you into stone. Is it a con- apiracy, I wonder, to be in love? You are in love with a woman whom the cardinal has chosen to confine: you wish to rescue her from his hands: it isa game which you are playing against his eminence. is letter is your Say Why should you show your hand to your adversary We shall easily guess his, you may be assured, In fact, Athos, what you now say is full of sense,” replied d’Artagnan, ' “Tn that case, let us not say another word about what has just occurred, and lect Aramis resume his cousin's letter where the cardinal interrupted him.” Aramis drew the letter from his pocket; the three friends drew near him, and the three valets again grouped themeelves around the capacious demijohn. ‘* You had only readone or two lines,” said d’Arta- guan: ‘ begin it over again at the very beginning.”’ ~ * Wilktingly,” rephed Aramis. ‘My dear Cousin, ; ‘J really believe that I shall decide on going to Bethune, where my sister has made our little servant enter intoa convent of the Carmelites. That poor child is quite resigned: she knows that she cannot live anywhere else, without endangering her salvation. Nevertheless, if our family attairs should be settied as we wish, I think that she will run the danger of perdi- tion and will return to those whom she regrets; more particularly, as she knows that they are always serra of her. In the meantime, sheis not very unhappy: that she now desires isa letter from her intended. I know very well that these sort of articles have some difliculty in passing through the gratings; but after all, as Ihave proved to you, my dear cousin, {am not very unskillful, and IJ will undertake the commission. My sister thanks you for your good and enduring remem- brance: she was for a short time in great anxiety, but she is at present more composed, having sent her agent down there, that nothing happen unexpected. ‘* Adieu, my dear cousin, tme hear from you as often as you can; thatis to say, as often as you can do so safely.—I embrace you, ** MARIE MiIcHON.”’ late,” said Porthos, is ill-humor on some ? If he can guess it, very good, ’ He turned himself round | yasif to give an order to Cahusac and la Houdiniere. Athos saw the movement, and took a step towards the | The cardinal was himeelf only Tue musketeers, including | He judged, also, that the. over others. Gentle- | ee rm seers LLL LL LLL LLL eas " “ihe ty ru <7 : re ri aS , 4" 4 : z - Ae , © hor™ THE THREE GUARDSMEN. — —_~ oC ee her. She lives—she is in safcty in a convent—she is at Bethune! and where is Bethune, Athos;”’ , ‘*On the frontiers of Artoix and Flanders: when once _ the seige is raised, we may take a turn there.” ‘** And it will not be long, it is to be hoped,”’ said Por- , is Ao - ' thos, *‘for this morning they hung another spy, who | declared that the Rochellois were now reduced to feed | upon the leather of their shoes. Supposing that, after , having eaten theleather, they should consume the sole, [do not exactly see what can remain for them after- | wards, unless they should take to eating one another,” ‘*Poor fools!’’ said Athos, emptying a glass of excel- lent Bordeanx,which, without possessing at that time the reputation thatit now enjoys, did not the less deserve «tf —** poor fools! as if the catholic faith were not the most profitable and the most agreeable of allreligions. Yet palate, ** they are brave fellows. But what the plague are you doing, Aramis?’ continued Athos: _ putting that letterinto your pocket?” | * True,”’ said d’Artagnan, ** Athosis right: it must be burnt. And who knows, even then, but that the cardi- | nal may have some secret for interrogating ashes?!" _ “* He ought to have one,’ said Athos. | _** But what will you do with the letter?’ inquired | which she could Porthos. ‘*Come here, Grimaud,”’ said Athos. |you for having spoken without you for the service which you will have rendered us, you shall afterwards drink this glass of wine. Here is the letter first: chew it with energy.” Grimaud smiled, and with his eyes fixed on the glass, which Athos filled to the very brink, he chewed away at _ the paper, and finally swallowed it. ‘* Bravo, Master Grimaud!’’ said Athos, ‘‘ and.now take this. Good! I will dispense with your saying, thank you,” Grimaud silently swallowed the giass of Bordeaux; but during the whole time that this ne operation lasted, his eyes, which were fixed upon the heavens, spoke a language which, though mute, was not there- fore the less expressive. * And now,” said Athos, ‘‘ unless the cardinal should form the ingenious idea of opening Grimaud's stomach, | I believe that we may be pretty easy.”’ | During this time, his eminence pursued his melan- | ag way, murmuring under his moustaches— ‘* Decidedly, these four men must belong to me!”’ CHAPTER L. THB FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. Let us now return to her ladyship, whom a giance iven to the coast of France, has mare 9) us lose sight of or an instant. We shall again find herin the same desperate position in which we left her: digging for herself an abyss of dark reflections—a ae hell—at the gate of which she had almost left hope tline, she doubts, and, for the first time, she fears. Twice has her fortune failed her; twice has she seen herself betrayed; and, on both these occasions, it was against that fatal talent, sent no doubt by Providence on pu rpose to oppose her that she had been wrecked. ‘Artagnan had conquered her—her who had been until then invincible in eyil. He had abused her in her love, humiliated her in her pride, thwarted her in her ambition, and now he was ruining her in her fortune, depriving ber of her liberty, and menacing even her life. But, more than all, he had raised up the corner of her mask—of that egis which had covered her, and rendered her so strong. D’Artagnan had turned aside from Buckingham whom she hated—as she did eve that she had once loved—that tempest with which Richelieu threat- ened him in the a of the queen, D'A an had personated e Wardes, for whom she had felt the caprice of a tigress, irresistible asthe caprices of women in thatcharacter everare. D'Artagnan had discovered that terrible secret, which she had sworn that none should know, and not die. And lastly, at the very moment that she had obtained from Richelieu an instru- ment by means of which shehopedto avenge herself on herenemy, thatinstrumentis snatched from her hands, and it is d'Artagnan who holds hera ene and who is going to transport her to some loathsome Botany Bay, some infamous Tyburn of the Indian ocean. or all this comes unquestionably from d’Artagnan. From whom, except him, could so many disgraces be accumulated on her head? He alone could have trans- mitted to Lord de Winter all these frightful secrets, which he had himself discovered one after another by a kind of fatality. He knew her brother-in-law, and must have written to him. How much of hatred she distils! There, motionless, with fixed and ardent eyes, seated in her solitary cham- ber, how well do the outbreaks of those stifled roarings, which escape at times from the recesses of her heart, accord with the sound of shame which rises, bellows, moans, and breaks, like some eternal, impotent despair, against the rocks on which that dark and haughty edi- fice is built! How, by the lightof those flashes which her furious auger casts across her mind, does she con- ceive against Madam Bonancieux, against Buckingham, but most of oll inst d’Artagnan, ae of magnifi- cent revenge, which are imperceptible in the remoteness of the future! Yes, but to avenge herself, she must be free; and for the prisoner to get free, there is a wall to pierce, bars to loosen, boardsto break through; and these are enter- prises which,the patience and strength of man may ac- complish, but before which the febril irritation of a wo- man must infallibly be exercised in vain. Besides, for all these labors, time is needed—months, or perhaps years—and she has ten or twelve days, according to the never mind,” added he, smacking hjs tongue against his | ‘are you | a< ee ee ee eS ee 7 - . > ' : ‘ aT oe — ——— = And yet if she were a man, she would attempt all this, and might perchance succeed. Why, then, has heaven committed the mistake of enshrining so strong a soul within a form so frail and delicate? Thus were the first moments of her captivity terrible: convulsions of rage, which she was impotent to re- strain, paid to nature the tribute of her feminine weak- ness. But by degrees she overcame these ebullitions of distempered anger: the nervous tremblings which had agitated her frame, subsided, and she at length fe!l back upon her own strength, like a tired serpent taking its repore. ‘*Come, come; I was a fool to be so violent,’’ said she, as she looked at the reflection of her burning glances in the glassin which she seemed to question herself. “No violence! Violence is a proof of weak- ness. Besides, 1 have never succeeded by that means. Perhaps if I used my strength aguinst women, I might chance to find them more feeble than myself, and, con- _sequen'ly, might vanquish them; but it is against men } j | ' <a Cl LL LL LL 33 that I struggle, and lam only a woman to them. Lec me struggle like a woman, My strength is in my weak- ness,” , Then, as if to satisfy herself of the changes to submit her most flexible and made them successivel expressive features, she ‘To punish | assume all expressions, from that of anger whic | leave, my friend | contracted ever Dove Cot. If there | you must eat this piece of paper; then to reward | affectionate, an muscle to that of the softest, most most seducive smile. Then under her artistic hands, her hair was made to adopt every undt- lation which might add to the varied attractions of her i Rg face. At last, in self complacency, she mur- merea— ‘* Well, there is nothing lost? I am still beautiful.” It was nearly eight o'clock in the evening. Her lady- ship perceived a bed, and she thought that a few hours of repose would not only refresh her head, but her com- plexion also. Yet, before she laid down, a still better idea suggested itself. She had heard something said about supper. She had yey | been above an hourin the room; they could not tarry long before they brought hermeal. ‘Ihe prisoner did not wish to lose any time, and resolved even this very evening, to make some at- tempt to feel her way, by studying the characters of those to whom her guardianship had been confided. A light appeared beneath the door, and this announced the return of her = Her ladyship, who had risen up, threw herself hastly into the chair, with her head thrown back, her beautrful hair loose and dishevelled, her throat half-naked under the rumpled lace, and one hand on her heart, and the other hangiug down. The bolts were drawn; the door grated on its hinges; steps were heard in the chamber, and ee er. ** Place the table there,"’ said a voice, which the pris- oner recognized as that of Felton. The order was observed, “You will bring lights, and relieve guard,’ continued Felton; and this double order, which the young lieuten- ant gave to the same individuals, proved to the lady that her attendants and her guards were the same men, ehind her; for, for the first | that is to say, soldiers. The commands of Felton were executed with a silent rapidity, which gave a idea of the flourishing con- dition of the discipline that he maintained. At last Felton, who had not yet looked at her lady- ship, turned towards her, ‘Ah! Ah!” said he, ‘‘she sleeps: very well, when she awakes she will sup.” And he took a few steps towards the door. ‘But, lieutenant,"' said a soldier, who was less stoic- al than his officer and who had approached her ladyship, ‘*this woman is not asleep.”’ ‘What is she ‘““What! not asleep!” said Felton. about then?”’ “She has fainted. Her face is very pale, and I can scarcely hear her respiration.”’ ‘* You are right,’ said Felton, after he had looked at her ladyship from the place where he stood, without taking a pine step towards her; *“‘go and tell Lord de Winter that his prisoner has fainted; for I donot know whut to do, the circumstances not having been fore- The soldier left the room to execute his officer's commands. Felton seated himself in a chair which rae peng to be near the door, and waited, without uttering a word or making the least movement. Her ladyship was mistress of that great art,so studied by women, of seeing every- thing by means of a mirror, a reflection, or a shadow; and she perceived Felton, who had turned his back to- wards her. She continued watching him for about ten minutes, and during these ten minutes he did not once look round. It then occurred to her that Lord de Winter would soon arrive, and, by his presence, give new power to her aoler. Her first experiment had failed; and she bore itlike @ woman who had confidence in her own resour- ces, She therefore raised her head, opened her eyes, and sighed feebly. At this sigh, Felton at length turned round. ‘“‘Ah! you are awake at last, madam,” said he, “80 I have nothing more to do here. If you require any- thing you will call.” e¢ h’ my God! my God! what have I snffered!’’ mur mured her ladyship, in that harmonious tone of voice which, like those of the enchantress of old, fuscinated all whom she desired to destroy. On raising herself in her ohals, she assumed an atti- tude more graceful and more alluring than that which she had borne during the time she was reclining. Felton arose. ‘You will be waited upon in this way, madam, three times a day,” said he: ‘in the morning, at nine o'clock; at one o'clock in the afternoon, and at eight in the evening. If this should not be agreeable to you, you can appoint your own hours, instead of those which I proposed, and on this point your wishes shall be at- “Oh, what do lowe you, Aramis?’’ exclaimed d'Ar- | declaration of Lord de Winter, her fraternal yet most | tended to.”’ tagnan. ‘* Dear Constance! At last Ihave intelligence of ' fearful gaoler. i ‘*A woman from the neighborhood has received in (E@) (E| OJ) €om