The Three Musketeers

by Alexandre Dumas

“There is no desert where a bird cannot pass over one’s head, where a fish cannot leap out of the water, where a rabbit cannot come out of its burrow, and I believe that bird, fish, and rabbit each becomes a spy of the cardinal. Better, then, pursue our enterprise; from which, besides, we cannot retreat without shame. We have made a wager—a wager which could not have been foreseen, and of which I defy anyone to divine the true cause. We are going, in order to win it, to remain an hour in the bastion. Either we shall be attacked, or not. If we are not, we shall have all the time to talk, and nobody will hear us—for I guarantee the walls of the bastion have no ears; if we are, we will talk of our affairs just the same. Moreover, in defending ourselves, we shall cover ourselves with glory. You see that everything is to our advantage.”

“Yes, I can very well understand that after having inherited the fortune of my brother it would be very agreeable to you to be my heir likewise; but know beforehand, if you kill me or cause me to be killed, my precautions are taken. Not a penny of what I possess will pass into your hands. Were you not already rich enough—you who possess nearly a million? And could you not stop your fatal career, if you did not do evil for the infinite and supreme joy of doing it? Oh, be assured, if the memory of my brother were not sacred to me, you should rot in a state dungeon or satisfy the curiosity of sailors at Tyburn. I will be silent, but you must endure your captivity quietly. In fifteen or twenty days I shall set out for Rochelle with the army; but on the eve of my departure a vessel which I shall see depart will take you hence and convey you to our colonies in the south. And be assured that you shall be accompanied by one who will blow your brains out at the first attempt you make to return to England or the Continent.”

“Lackeys?” grumbled the cardinal. “Lackeys who have the order to warn their masters when anyone passes are not lackeys, they are sentinels.”

Yes; but in order to avenge herself she must be free. And to be free, a prisoner has to pierce a wall, detach bars, cut through a floor—all undertakings which a patient and strong man may accomplish, but before which the feverish irritations of a woman must give

“Guilty? I?” said Milady, with a smile which might have disarmed the angel of the last judgment.

To be a woman condemned to a painful and disgraceful punishment is no impediment to beauty, but it is an obstacle to the recovery of power.

“There is no situation, however terrible it may be, which can authorize a creature of God to inflict death upon himself.

Felton, that the more superb the prison, the greater was my terror.

I will die here, and you will see if a phantom that accuses is not more terrible than a living being that threatens!’

But with such men it is not the sword that should be employed; it is the poniard.”

“She is not dead; demons do not die so easily.

Milady had, likewise, the best of passports,—her beauty, her noble appearance, and the liberality with which she distributed her pistoles.

“Ah,” said Milady, with a sigh, “if she loves she is not altogether wretched.”

“Hear me,” said the novice; “we must trust in heaven. There always comes a moment when the good you have done pleads your cause before God; and see, perhaps it is a happiness for you, humble and powerless as I am, that you have met with me, for if I leave this place, well,—I have powerful friends, who, after having exerted themselves on my account, may also exert themselves for you.”

“Friend, be a man! Women weep for the dead; men avenge them!”

“You are young,” replied Athos; “and your bitter recollections have time to change themselves into sweet remembrances.”