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Milady’s Secret

           "Well,Ifeelasiftransformedaconfessionweighsonmymind."

           "Aconfession!"

           "IfIhadtheleastdoubtofyourloveIwouldnotmakeit,butyouloveme,mybeautifulmistress,doyounot?"

           "Withoutdoubt."

           "ThenifthroughexcessofloveIhaverenderedmyselfculpabletowardyou,youwillpardonme?"

           "Perhaps."

           D’ArtagnantriedwithhissweetestsmiletotouchhislipstoMilady’s,butsheevadedhim.

           "Thisconfession,"saidshe,growingpaler,"whatisthisconfession?"

           "YougavedeWardesameetingonThursdaylastinthisveryroom,didyounot?"

           "No,no!Itisnottrue,"saidMilady,inatoneofvoicesofirm,andwithacountenancesounchanged,thatifd’Artagnanhadnotbeeninsuchperfectpossessionofthefact,hewouldhavedoubted.

           "Donotlie,myangel,"saidd’Artagnan,smiling;"thatwouldbeuseless."

           "Whatdoyoumean?Speak!youkillme."

           "Besatisfied;youarenotguiltytowardme,andIhavealreadypardonedyou."

           "Whatnext?whatnext?"

           "DeWardescannotboastofanything."

           "Howisthat?Youtoldmeyourselfthatthatring—"

           "ThatringIhave!TheComtedeWardesofThursdayandthed’Artagnanoftodayarethesameperson."

           Theimprudentyoungmanexpectedasurprise,mixedwithshameaslightstormwhichwouldresolveitselfintotears;buthewasstrangelydeceived,andhiserrorwasnotoflongduration.

           Paleandtrembling,Miladyrepulsedd’Artagnan’sattemptedembracebyaviolentblowonthechest,asshesprangoutofbed.

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