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The Drop of Water

           "Sheisill!GreatGod,sheislosinghersenses!"

           WhilePorthoswascallingforhelpwithallthepowerofhisstrongvoice,Aramisrantothetabletogetaglassofwater;buthestoppedatseeingthehorriblealterationthathadtakenplaceinthecountenanceofAthos,who,standingbeforethetable,hishairrisingfromhishead,hiseyesfixedinstupor,waslookingatoneoftheglasses,andappearedapreytothemosthorribledoubt.

           "Oh!"saidAthos,"oh,no,itisimpossible!Godwouldnotpermitsuchacrime!"

           "Water,water!"criedd’Artagnan."Water!"

           "Oh,poorwoman,poorwoman!"murmuredAthos,inabrokenvoice.

           Mme.Bonacieuxopenedhereyesunderthekissesofd’Artagnan.

           "Sherevives!"criedtheyoungman."Oh,myGod,myGod,Ithankthee!"

           "Madame!"saidAthos,"madame,inthenameofheaven,whoseemptyglassisthis?"

           "Mine,monsieur,"saidtheyoungwoman,inadyingvoice.

           "Butwhopouredthewineforyouthatwasinthisglass?"

           "She."

           "ButwhoisSHE?"

           "Oh,Iremember!"saidMme.Bonacieux,"theComtessedeWinter."

           Thefourfriendsutteredoneandthesamecry,butthatofAthosdominatedalltherest.

           AtthatmomentthecountenanceofMme.Bonacieuxbecamelivid;afearfulagonypervadedherframe,andshesankpantingintothearmsofPorthosandAramis.

           D’ArtagnanseizedthehandsofAthoswithananguishdifficulttobedescribed.

           "Andwhatdoyoubelieve?’Hisvoicewasstifledbysobs.

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