Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twelfth 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.

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Wherever you listen to podcasts today, we will be continuing the Three Musketeers by Alexandra Dumas Twelve George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham Madame Bonaciu and the Duke entered the Louvre without difficulty.

Madame Bonusieu was known to belong to the Queen.

The Duke wore the uniform of the Musketeers of M?

Day Traville, who, as we have said, were that evening on guard.

Besides, Germaine was in the interests of the Queen.

And if anything should happen, Madame Bona Stew would be accused of having introduced her lover into the Louvre.

That was all.

She took the risk upon herself.

Her reputation would be lost, it is true.

But of what value in the world was the reputation of the little wife of a Mercer?

Once within the interior of the court, the Duke and the young woman followed the wall for the space of about 25 steps.

This space passed.

Madame Monaco, pushed a little servants door open by day, but generally closed at night.

The door yielded both entered and found themselves in darkness.

But Madame Bonna Stew was acquainted with all the turnings and windings of this part of the Louvre appropriated for the people of the household.

She closed the door after her, took the Duke by the hand and after a few experimental steps, grasped a value straight, put her foot upon the bottom step, and began to ascend the staircase.

The Duke counted two stories.

She then turned to the right, followed the course of a long corridor, descended a flight, went a few steps further, introduced a key into a lock, opened a door and pushed the dupe into an apartment lighted only by a lamp, saying, Remain here, my Lord Duke.

Someone will come.

She then went out by the same door which she locked, so that the Duke found himself literally a prisoner.

Nevertheless, isolated as he was, we must say that the Duke of Buckingham did not experience an instant of fear.

One of the salient points of his character was the search for adventures and a love of romance.

Brave, rash and enterprising this was not the first time he had risked his life in such attempts.

He had learned that the pretended message from Anne of Austria, upon the faith of which he had come to Paris, was a snare.

But instead of regaining England, he had abusing the position in which she had been placed, declared to the Queen that he would not depart without seeing her.

The Queen had at first positively refused, but at length became afraid that the Duke, if exasperated, would commit some folly.

She had already decided upon seeing him and urging his immediate departure.

When, on the very evening of coming to this decision, Madame Vonasu, who was charged with going to fetch the Duke and conducting him to the Louvre, was abducted.

For two days no one knew what had become of her, and everything remained in suspense.

But once free and placed in communication with Laporte, matters resumed their course, and she accomplished the perilous enterprise which, but for her arrest would have been executed three days earlier.

Buckingham, left alone, walked toward a mirror.

His Musketeers uniform became him.

Marvellously.

At 35, which was then his age, he passed with just title for the handsomest gentleman and the most elegant cavalier of France or England, the favorite of two Kings, immensely rich, allpowerful in a Kingdom which he disordered at his fancy and calmed again at his Caprice.

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had lived one of those fabulous existences which survived in the course of centuries to astonish posterity.

Sure of himself, convinced of his own power, certain that the laws which rule other men could not reach him, he went straight to the object he aimed at, even where this object were so elevated and so dazzling that it would have been madness for any other even to have contemplated it.

It was thus he had succeeded in approaching several times the beautiful and proud Anne of Austria, and in making himself loved by dazzling her, George Villiers placed himself before the glass, as we have said, restored the undulations to his beautiful hair, which the weight of his hat had disordered twisted his moustache, and his heart swelling with joy, happy and proud at being near the moment he had so long sighed, for he smiled upon himself with pride and hope.

At this moment a door concealed in the tapestry opened, and a woman appeared.

Buckingham saw this apparition in the glass.

He uttered a cry.

It was the Queen Anne of Austria was then 26 or 27 years of age.

That is to say, she was in the full splendor of her beauty.

Her carriage was that of a Queen or a goddess.

Her eyes, which cast the brilliancy of emeralds, were perfectly beautiful, and yet were at the same time full of sweetness and Majesty.

Her mouth was small and rosy, and although her under lip, like that of all Princes of the house of Austria, protruded slightly beyond the other, it was imminently lovely in its smile.

But as profoundly disdainful in its contempt.

Her skin was admired for its velvety softness.

Her hands and arms were of surpassing beauty, all the poets of the time singing them as incomparable.

Lastly, her hair, which from being light in her youth had become chestnut, and which she wore curled very plainly and with much powder admirably, set off her face, in which the most rigid critic could only have desired a little less Rouge, and the most fastidious sculptor a little more fineness in the nose.

Buckingham remained for a moment dazzled.

Never had Anne of Austria appeared to him so beautiful amid balls, feeds, or carousels.

All she appeared to him at this moment, dressed in a simple robe of white satin and accompanied by Donna Estifania, the only one of her Spanish women who had not been driven from her by the jealousy of the King or by the persecutions of Richelieu.

Anne of Austria took two steps forward.

Buckingham threw himself at her feet, and before the Queen could prevent him, kissed the hem of her robe.

Duke, you already know that it is not I who caused you to be written to.

Yes, yes, Madam, Yes, Your Majesty, cried the Duke.

I know that I must have been mad senseless to believe that snow would become animated or marble warm.

But what then?

They who love believe easily in love.

Besides, I have lost nothing by this journey because I see you.

Yes, replied Anne.

But you know why and how I see you.

Because, insensible to all my sufferings, you persist in remaining in a city where by remaining you run the risk of your life and make me run the risk of my honor.

I see you to tell you that everything separates us.

The depths of the sea, the enmity of kingdoms, the sanctity of vows.

It is sacrilege to struggle against so many things, my Lord.

In short, I see you to tell you that we must never see each other again.

Speak on, Madam.

Speak on, Queen, said Buckingham.

The sweetness of your voice covers the harshness of your words.

You talk of sacrilege.

Why, the sacrilege is the separation of two hearts formed by God for each other.

My Lord, cried the Queen, you forget that I have never said that I love you.

But you have never told me that you did not love me.

And truly, to speak such words to me would be on the part of Your Majesty too great in ingratitude.

For tell me, where can you find a love like mine?

A love which neither time nor absence nor despair can extinguish?

A love which contents itself with a lost ribbon, a stray look, or a chance word?

It is now three years, Madame, since I saw you for the first time.

And during those three years I have loved you.

Thus shall I tell you each ornament of your toilet Mark.

I see you now.

You were seated upon cushions in the Spanish fashion.

You wore a robe of green satin embroidered with gold and silver hanging sleeves knotted upon your beautiful arms.

Those lovely arms with large diamonds.

You wore a close rough, a small cap upon your head of the same color as your robe.

And in that cap, a Heron feather.

Hold, hold.

I shut my eyes and I can see you as you then were.

I opened them again and I see what you are now a hundred times more beautiful.

What folly, murmured Anne of Austria, who had not the courage to find fault with the Duke for having so well preserved her portrait in his heart.

What folly defeat, a useless passion with such remembrances.

And upon what then must I live?

I have nothing but memory.

It is my happiness, my treasure, my hope.

Every time I see you is a fresh diamond which I enclose in the casket of my heart.

This is the fourth which you have let fall and I have picked up for in three years.

Madame, I have only seen you four times.

The first which I have described to you.

The second at the mansion of Madame de Chevrous.

The third in the gardens of Amines.

Duke, said the Queen, blushing.

Never speak of that evening.

Oh, let us speak of it.

On the contrary, let us speak of it.

That is the most happy and brilliant evening of my life.

You remember what a beautiful night it was.

How soft and perfumed was the air, how lovely the blue heavens and star enameled sky.

Then, Madam, I was able for one instant to be alone with you.

Then you were about to tell me all the isolation of your life, the griefs of your heart.

You leaned upon my arm.

Upon this, Madame.

I felt in bending my head towards you.

Your beautiful hair touched my cheek.

And every time that it touched me, I trembled from head to foot.

Oh, Queen, Queen, you do not know what Felicity from heaven, what joys from paradise are comprised in a moment like that.

Take my wealth, my fortune, my glory.

All the days I have to live for such an instant for a night like that.

For that night, Madam, that night you loved me.

I will swear it, my Lord.

Yes, it is possible that the influence of the place, the charm of the beautiful evening, the fascination of your look, the thousand circumstances in short, which sometimes unite to destroy a woman were grouped around me on that fatal evening.

But, my Lord, you saw the Queen come to the aid of the woman who faltered at the first word you dared to utter.

At the first freedom to which I had to reply, I called for help.

Yes, that is true.

And any other love but mine would have sunk beneath this ordeal.

But my love came out from it more ardent and more eternal.

You believed that you would fly from me by returning to Paris you believed that I would not dare to quit the treasure over which my master had charged me to watch.

What to me were all the treasures in the world or all the Kings of the Earth.

Eight days after I was back again, Madam, that time you had nothing to say to me.

I had risked my life in favor to see you, but for a second I did not even touch your hand.

And you pardoned me on seeing me so submissive and so repentant.

Yes, but Calamity seized upon all those follies in which I took no part.

As you well know, my Lord, the King, excited by the Cardinal, made a terrible clamour.

Madame de Vernet was driven from me.

Putinch was exiled.

Madame de Chevrose fell into disgrace.

And when you wished to come back as ambassador to France, the King himself.

Remember, my Lord, the King himself opposed it.

Yes, and France is about to pay for her King's refusal with a war.

I am not allowed to see you, Madame.

But you shall every day hear of me.

What object think you have?

This expedition to Ray and this League with the Protestants of La Rochelle, which I am projecting the pleasure of seeing you.

I have no hope of penetrating sword in hand to Paris.

I know that well.

But this war may bring round of peace.

This peace will require a negotiator that negotiator will be me.

They will not dare to refuse me then.

And I will return to Paris and will see you again and will be happy for an instant.

Thousands of men, it is true, will have to pay for my happiness with their lives.

But what is that to me?

Provided I see you again?

All this is perhaps folly, perhaps insanity.

But tell me, what woman has a lover more truly in love?

What Queen?

A servant more ardent?

My Lord.

My Lord, you invoke in your defense, things which accuse you more strongly.

All these proofs of love which you would give me are almost crimes.

Because you do not love me.

Madam, if you loved me, you would view all this otherwise.

If you loved me.

Oh, if you loved me, that would be too great happiness.

And I should run mad.

Ah, Madame de Chevrose was less cruel than you.

Holland loved her, and she responded to his love.

Madame de Chevrolet was not Queen, murmured Anne of Austria, overcome in spite of herself by the expression of so profound a passion.

You would love me then?

If you were not Queen, Madame say that you would love me then.

I can believe that it is the dignity of your rank alone which makes you cruel to me.

I can believe that had you been Madame de Chevrous, poor Buckingham might have hoped.

Thanks for those sweet words.

Oh, my beautiful sovereign.

A hundred times thanks.

Oh, my Lord, you have ill understood, wrongly interpreted.

I did not mean to say.

Silence.

Silence.

Cried the Duke.

If I am happy in an error, do not have the cruelty to lift me from it.

You have told me yourself, Madam, that I have been drawn into a snare.

I perhaps may leave my life in it.

For although it may be strange, I have for some time had a presentiment that I should shortly die.

And the Duke smiled with a smile, at once sad and charming.

Oh, my God, cried Anne of Austria with an accent of terror which proved how much greater an interest she took in the Duke than she ventured to tell.

I do not tell you this, Madame, to terrify.

You know, it is even ridiculous for me to name it to you.

And believe me, I take no heed of such dreams.

But the words you have just spoken, the hope you have almost given me, will have richly paid all were it my life.

Oh, but I, said Anne, I also, Duke, have had presentiments.

I also have had dreams.

I dreamed that I saw you lying bleeding, wounded in the left side, was it not?

And with a knife, interrupted Buckingham.

Yes, it was so, my Lord.

It was so in the left side.

And with a knife.

Who can possibly have told you I had had that dream?

I have imparted it to no one but my God.

And that in my prayers I ask for no more.

You love me, Madam, it is enough.

I love you.

I.

Yes, yes.

Would God send the same dreams to you as to me if you did not love me?

Should we have the same presentiments if our existences did not touch at the heart?

You love me, my beautiful Queen, and you will weep for me.

Oh, my God.

My God, cried Anne of Austria, this is more than I can bear.

In the name of heaven, Duke, leave me.

Go.

I do not know whether I love you or love you not.

But what I know is that I will not be perjured.

Take pity on me then, and go.

Oh, if you are struck in France, if you die in France.

If I could imagine that your love for me was the cause of your death, I could not console myself.

I should run mad.

Depart, then depart.

I implore you.

Oh, how beautiful you are thus.

Oh, how I love you, said Buckingham.

Go, go.

I implore you and return hereafter.

Come back as ambassador.

Come back as Minister.

Come back surrounded with guards who will defend you with servants who will watch over you.

And then I shall no longer fear for your days.

And I shall be happy in seeing you.

Oh, is this true, what you say?

Yes.

Oh, then some pledge of your indulgence.

Some object which came from you and may remind me that I have not been dreaming.

Something you have worn and that I may wear in my turn.

A ring, a necklace, a chain.

Will you depart.

Will you depart?

If I give you that you demand?

Yes.

This very instant?

Yes.

You will leave France.

You will return to England.

I will.

I swear to you.

Wait.

Then wait.

Anne of Austria reentered her apartment and came out again almost immediately, holding a Rosewood casket in her hand.

With her cipher encrusted with gold.

Here, my Lord.

Here, said she keep this in memory of me.

Buckingham took the casket and fell a second time on his knees.

You have promised me to go, said the Queen, and I keep my word.

Your hand, Madam.

Your hand and I depart.

Anne of Austria stretched forth her hand, closing her eyes and leaning with other upon estopania, for she felt that her strength was about to fail her.

Buckingham pressed his lips passionately to that beautiful hand, and then rising, said, within six months, if I am not dead, I shall have seen you again, Madam, even if I have to.

Overturn the world.

And faithful to the promise he had made, he rushed out of the apartment.

In the corridor, he met Madame Bonaciu, who waited for him.

And who, with the same precautions and the same good luck, conducted him out of the Louvre.

Thank you for joining Bite At A Time Books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

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We are now part of the Byte At A Time Books Productions Network.

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world At The time, check out Bite At A Time Books Behind the Story Tuesdays wherever you listen to podcasts again.