Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifty-fourth chapter of The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas.

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Welcome to Bite At a Time Books, where we read you your favorite classics, one Bite at a Time.

My name is Brie Carlyle, and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

All of the links for our show are in the show notes.

Today we'll be continuing the Three Musketeers by Alexandra Numas Chapter 54 Captivity The third day Felton had fallen, but there was still another step to be taken.

He must be retained, or rather, he must be left quite alone.

And my lady, but obscurely perceived the means which could lead to this result.

Still more must be done.

He must be made to speak in order that he might be spoken to, for my lady very well knew that her greatest seduction was in her voice, which so skilfully ran over the whole gamut of tones, from human speech to language celestial.

Yet in spite of all this seduction, my lady might fail, for Felton was forewarned, and that against the least chance.

From that moment she watched all his actions, all his words, from the simplest glance of his eyes to his gestures, even to a breath that could be interpreted as a sigh.

In short, she studied everything as a skillful comedian does, to whom a new part has been assigned, in a line to which he is not accustomed face to face with Lord de Winter.

Her plan of conduct was more easy.

She had laid that down the preceding evening, to remain silent and dignified in his presence from time to time, to irritate him, by affected disdain, by contemptuous word, to provoke him, to threats and violence which would produce a contrast with her own resignation.

Such was her plan.

Felton would see all.

Perhaps he would say nothing, but he would see.

In the morning, Felton came as usual, but my lady allowed him to preside over all the preparations for breakfast without addressing a word to him.

At the moment when he was about to retire, she was cheered with a Ray of hope, for she thought he was about to speak.

But his lips moved without any sound, leaving his mouth, and making a powerful effort to control himself, he sent back to his heart the words that were about to escape from his lips and went out.

Toward midday, Lord de Winter entered.

It was a tolerably fine winter's day, and array of that pale English Sun which lights but does not warm, came through the bars of her prison.

My lady was looking out at the window and pretended not to hear the door as it opened, said Lord de Winter, after having played comedy, after having played tragedy, we are now playing melancholy.

The prisoner made no reply.

Yes, yes, continued Lord de Winter.

I understand you would like very well to be at Liberty on that beach.

You would like very well to be in a good ship, dancing upon the waves of that Emerald green sea you would like very well, either on land or on the ocean, to lay for me one of those nice little ambuscades you are so skillful in planning.

Patience, patience.

In four days time the shore will be beneath your feet.

The sea will be opened to you, more open than will perhaps be agreeable to you.

Four.

In four days England will be relieved of you.

My lady folded her hands and raising her fine eyes toward heaven.

Lord, Lord, said she, with an angelic meekness of gesture and tone, pardon this man as I myself pardon him.

Yes, pray accursed woman, cried the Baron, your prayer is so much the more generous from your being, I swear to you in the power of a man who will never pardon you.

And he went out.

At the moment he went out.

A piercing glance darted through the opening of the nearly closed door, and she perceived Felton, who drew quickly to one side to prevent being seen by her, and she threw herself upon her knees and began to pray.

My God, my God, said she, thou knowest in what Holy cause I suffer, give me the strength to suffer.

The door opened gently.

The beautiful Supplicant pretended not to hear the noise, and in a voice broken by tears, she continued, God of vengeance, God of goodness, wilt thou to allow the frightful projects of this man to be accomplished?

Then?

Only she pretended to hear the sound of Felton's steps and rising.

Quick as thought, she blushed as if ashamed of being surprised on her knees.

I do not like to disturb those who pray, Madam, said Felton seriously.

Do not disturb yourself on my account.

I beseech you.

How do you know?

I was praying, sir, said my lady in a voice broken by sobs.

You were deceived, sir.

I was not praying.

Do you think, then, Madame, replied Felton in the same serious voice, but with a milder tone.

Do you think I assume the right of preventing a creature from prostrating herself before her creator?

God forbid, Besides, repentance becomes the guilty whatever crimes they may have committed.

For me, the guilty are sacred at the feet of God.

Guilty, I, said my lady, with a smile which might have disarmed the angel of the last judgment.

Guilty.

Oh my God, thou knowest whether I am guilty.

Say I am condemned, sir, if you please.

But you know that God who loves martyrs, sometimes permits the innocent to be condemned.

Were you condemned?

Were you innocent?

Were you a martyr?

Replied Felton.

The greater would be the necessity for prayer, and I myself would aid you with my prayers.

Oh, you are a just man, cried my lady, throwing herself at his feet.

I can hold out no longer, for I fear I shall be wanting in strength at the moment when I shall be forced to undergo the struggle and confess my faith.

Listen then, to the supplication of a despairing woman.

You are abused, sir.

But that is not the question.

I only ask you one favor, and if you grant it me, I will bless you in this world and in the next.

Speak to the Master, Madam, said Fulton.

Happily, I am neither charged with the power of pardoning nor punishing.

It is upon one higher place than I am that God has laid this responsibility to you know to you alone.

Listen to me rather than add to my destruction rather than add to my ignominy.

If you have merited the shame, Madam, if you have incurred this ignominy, you must submit to it as an offering to God.

What do you say?

Oh, you do not understand me.

When I speak of ignominy, you think I speak of some chastisement or imprisonment or death went to heaven.

Of what consequence to me is imprisonment or death?

It is I who no longer understand you, Madam, said Fulton.

Or rather, who pretend not to understand me, sir, replied the prisoner with a smile of incredulity.

No, Madam.

On the honor of a soldier, on the faith of a Christian.

What?

You are ignorant of Lord de Winter's designs upon me.

I am impossible.

You are his confidant?

I never lie, Madam.

Oh, he conceals them too little for you not to divine them.

I seek to divine nothing, Madam.

I wait till I am confided in.

And apart from that which Lord de Winter has said to me before you, he has confided nothing to me.

Why then, cried My Lady with an incredible tone of truthfulness, you are not his accomplice.

You do not know that he destnds me to a disgrace which all the punishment of the world cannot equal in horror.

You are deceived, Madam, said Felton, blushing.

Lord de Winter is not capable of such a crime.

Good, said My Lady to herself, without thinking what it is.

He calls it a crime.

Then aloud, the friend of that wretch is capable of everything.

Whom do you call that wretch?

Asked Felton.

Are there then in England two men to whom such an epithet can be applied.

You mean George Villiers?

Asked Felton, whose looks became excited, whom pagans and unbelieving Gentiles called Duke of Buckingham, replied My Lady, I could not have thought that there was an Englishman in all England who would have required so long an explanation to make him understand of whom I was speaking.

The hand of the Lord is stretched over him, said Felton.

He will not escape the chastisement he deserves.

Felton only expressed with regard to the Duke the feeling of extrication which all the English had declared toward him, whom the Catholics themselves called the Extortioner, the Pillager, the Debaci, and whom the Puritan styled simply Satan.

Oh, my God, my God, cried My Lady, when I supplicate thee to pour upon this man the chastisement which is his due, thou knowest it is not my own vengeance I pursue, but the deliverance of a whole nation that I implore.

Do you know him, then?

Asked Felton at length.

He interrogates me, said My Lady to herself at the height of joy at having obtained so quickly such a great result.

Oh, know him?

Yes, yes, to my misfortune.

To my eternal misfortune.

And my lady twisted her arms as if in a paroxysm of grief.

Felton, no doubt felt within himself that his strength was abandoning him, and he made several steps toward the door.

But the prisoner, whose eye never left him, sprang in pursuit of him and stopped him.

Sir, cried she, be kind.

Be Clement, listen to my prayer.

That knife which the fatal prudence of the Baron deprived me of because he knows the use I would make of it.

Oh, hear me to the end, that knife.

Give it to me for a minute only for mercies, for pity's sake, I will embrace your knees.

You shall shut the door that you may be certain.

I contemplate no injury to you, my God, to you the only just good and compassionate being I have met with to you my preserver, perhaps 1 minute, that knife, 1 minute, a single minute, and I will restore it to you through the grating of the door.

Only 1 minute, Mr.

Felton, and you will have saved my honor to kill yourself, cried Felton with terror, forgetting to withdraw his hands from the hands of the prisoner.

To kill yourself.

I have told, sir, murmured my lady, lowering her voice and allowing herself to sink overpowered to the ground.

I have told my secret.

He knows all.

My God, I am lost.

Felton remained standing, motionless and undecided.

He still doubts, thought My Lady, I have not been earnest enough.

Someone was heard in the corridor.

My lady recognized the step of Lord de Winter.

Felton recognized it also and made a step toward the door.

My lady sprang toward him.

Oh, not a word, said she in a concentrated voice.

Not a word of all that I have said to you.

To this man, or I am lost, and it would be you.

You.

And as the steps drew near, she became silent for fear of being heard, applying with a gesture of infinite terror her beautiful hand to Felton's mouth.

Felton gently repulsed, my lady, and she sank into a chair.

Lord de Winter passed before the door without stopping, and they heard the noise of his footsteps soon die away.

Felton, as pale as death, remained some instant with his ear bent and listening.

Then, when the sound was quite extinct, he breathed like a man awaking from a dream and rushed out of the apartment, said My Lady, listening in her turn to the noise of Felton steps, which withdrew in a direction opposite to those of Lord de Winter.

At length you are mine.

And her brow darkened.

If he tells the Baron, said she, I am lost.

For the Baron, who knows very well that I shall not kill myself, will place me before him with a knife in my hand, and he will discover that all this despair is but acted.

She placed herself before the glass and regarded herself attentively never had she appeared more beautiful.

Oh, yes, she said, smiling.

But we won't tell him.

In the evening.

Lord de Winter accompanied the supper.

Sir, said My Lady, is your presence an indispensable accessory of my captivity?

Could you not spare me the increase of torture which your visits caused me?

How, dear sister, said Lord de Winter, did you not sentimentally inform me with that pretty mouth of yours so cruel to me today that you came to England solely for the pleasure of seeing me at your ease?

An enjoyment of which you told me you so sensibly felt the deprivation that you had risked everything for it.

Sea sickness, Tempest captivity.

Well, here I am be satisfied.

Besides, this time my visit has a motive.

My lady trembled.

She thought Felton had told all.

Perhaps never in her life had this woman, who had experienced so many opposite and powerful emotions, felt her heart beat so violently.

She was seated.

Lord de Winter took a chair, drew it toward her, and sat down close beside her.

Then, taking the paper out of his pocket, he unfolded it slowly.

Here, said he, I want to show you the kind of passport which I have drawn up and which will serve you henceforward as the rule of order in the life I consent to leave you.

Then, turning his eyes from My Lady to the paper, he read, Order to conduct.

The name is blank, interrupted Lord de Winter.

If you have any preference, you can point it out to me.

And if it be not within a thousand leagues of London, attention will be paid to your wishes.

I will begin again then, in order to conduct to the person named Charlotte Backson, branded by the justice of the Kingdom of France but liberated after chastisement, she has to dwell in this place without ever going more than three leagues from it.

In case of any attempt to escape, the penalty of death is to be applied.

She will receive five shillings per day for lodging and food.

That order does not concern me, replied My Lady coldly, since it bears another name than mine.

A name?

Have you a name, then?

I bear that of your brother.

I bet you are mistaken.

My brother is only your second husband, and your first is still living.

Tell me his name and I will put it in the place of the name of Charlotte.

No, you will not.

You are silent.

Well, then, you must be registered as Charlotte Backson.

My lady remained silent.

Only this time it was no longer from affection but from terror.

She believed the order ready for execution.

She thought that Lord de Winter had hastened her departure.

She thought she was condemned to set off that very evening.

Everything in her mind was lost for an instant when all at once she perceived that no signature was attached to the order.

The joy she felt at this discovery was so great she could not conceal it.

Yes, yes, said Lord de Winter, who perceived what was passing in her mind.

Yes, you look for the signature and you say to yourself, all is not lost, for that order is not signed.

It is only shown to me to terrify me.

That's all.

You are mistaken.

Tomorrow this order will be sent to the Duke of Buckingham.

The day after tomorrow it will return, signed by his hand and marked with his seal.

And four and 20 hours afterward I will answer for it being carried into execution.

Adieu, Madam.

That is all I had to say to you.

And I replied to you, sir, that this abuse of power, this exile under a fictitious name, are infamous.

Would you like better to be hanged in your true name?

My lady, you know that the English laws are inexorable on the abuse of marriage.

Speak freely.

Although my name, or rather that of my brother, would be mixed up with the affair.

I will risk the scandal of a public trial to make myself certain of getting rid of you.

My lady made no reply, but became as pale as a corpse.

Oh, I see you prefer perigration that's well, Madam.

And there is an old proverb that says Traveling trains, youth.

My faith, you are not wrong, after all, and life is sweet.

That's the reason why I take such care.

You shall not deprive me of mine.

There only remains then, the question of the five shillings to be settled.

You think me rather parsimonious, don't you?

That because I don't care to leave you the means of corrupting your jailers.

Besides, you will always have your charms left to seduce them with.

Employ them.

If your check with regard to Felton has not disgusted you with attempts of that kind.

Felton has not told him, said My Lady to herself.

Nothing is lost then and now, Madam, till I see you again tomorrow, I will come and announce to you the departure of my messenger.

Lord de Winter rose, saluted her Ironically, and went out.

My lady breathed again.

She had still four days before her.

Four days would quite suffice to complete the seduction of Felton.

A terrible idea, however, rushed into her mind.

She thought that Lord de Winter would perhaps send Felton himself to get the order signed by the Duke of Buckingham.

In that case, Felton would escape her, for in order to secure success, the magic of a continuous seduction was necessary.

Nevertheless, as we have said, one circumstance reassured her.

Felton had not spoken, as she would not appear to be agitated by the threats of Lord de Winter.

She placed herself at the table and ate then, as she had done the evening before.

She fell on her knees and repeated her prayers aloud.

As on the evening before, the soldier stopped his March to listen to her.

Soon after, she heard lighter steps than those of the Sentinel, which came from the end of the corridor and stopped before her door.

It is, he said she and she began the same religious chant which had so strongly excited felt in the evening before.

But although her voice, sweet, full and sonorous, vibrated as harmoniously and as affectionately as ever, the door remained shut.

It appeared, however, to my lady, that in one of the furtive glances she darted from time to time at the grating of the door.

She thought she saw the ardent eyes of the young man through the narrow opening, but whether this was reality or vision, he had this time sufficient selfcommand not to enter.

However, a few instances after she had finished her religious song, my lady thought she heard a profound sigh and the same stuff she had heard approached slowly withdrew as if with regret.

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