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The Wife of Athos

           Oneofmyfriendsoneofmyfriends,pleasetoobserve,notmyself,"saidAthos,interruptinghimselfwithamelancholysmile,"oneofthecountsofmyprovincethatistosay,ofBerrynobleasaDandolooraMontmorency,attwenty-fiveyearsofagefellinlovewithagirlofsixteen,beautifulasfancycanpaint.Throughtheingenuousnessofheragebeamedanardentmind,notofthewoman,butofthepoet.Shedidnotplease;sheintoxicated.Shelivedinasmalltownwithherbrother,whowasacurate.Bothhadrecentlycomeintothecountry.Theycamenobodyknewwhence;butwhenseeinghersolovelyandherbrothersopious,nobodythoughtofaskingwhencetheycame.Theyweresaid,however,tobeofgoodextraction.Myfriend,whowasseigneurofthecountry,mighthaveseducedher,ortakenherbyforce,athiswillforhewasmaster.Whowouldhavecometotheassistanceoftwostrangers,twounknownpersons?Unfortunatelyhewasanhonorableman;hemarriedher.Thefool!Theass!Theidiot!"

           "Howso,ifheloveher?"askedd’Artagnan.

           "Wait,"saidAthos."Hetookhertohischateau,andmadeherthefirstladyintheprovince;andinjusticeitmustbeallowedthatshesupportedherrankbecomingly."

           "Well?"askedd’Artagnan.

           "Well,onedaywhenshewashuntingwithherhusband,"continuedAthos,inalowvoice,andspeakingveryquickly,"shefellfromherhorseandfainted.

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