Her injunction was quite unnecessary; the young officer stood upright before her, curiosity writ large upon his features.
Very solemnly and in tragic tones Milady asked Felton to suppose it was his own sister, his father’s daughter, who was speaking. What would he do if she were to say to him:
“While still young and still beautiful enough for my own undoing, I was tricked and snared; I resisted! Every type of pitfall and violence was made use of; I resisted! The creed I profess and the God I adore were blasphemed because I invoked their aid in my affliction; I resisted! No outrage but was heaped upon me; I resisted. Then, as my enemy could not destroy my soul, he tried to defile my body forever. Finally—”
Milady paused. A bitter, sad little smile hovered over her lips.
“Go on, My Lady, what then?”
“Finally one evening my enemy resolved to paralyze the resistance he had been unable to overcome; one evening someone slipped a drug, a powerful narcotic, into my water. I had scarcely finished my meal than I felt myself gradually sinking into a strange torpor. I did not suspect what had happened yet a vague fear seized me. Stubbornly I sought to fight off my drowsiness. I rose, attempted to reach the window and cry for help. But my legs refused to carry me. It was as though the ceiling was sinking upon my head and crushing me under its weight. I stretched out my arms, I tried to speak but I could only utter inarticulate sounds. An irresistible numbness overwhelmed me. I clutched at a chair feeling that I was about to fall, but this support soon proved unavailing because my arms were too weak. I fell on one knee, then on both; I strove to pray but my tongue was frozen. God doubtless neither saw nor heard me. I sank on the floor, a prey to a slumber that was like death.
“How long I slept or what happened while I did, I cannot know. I remember that I awoke in a circular chamber, sumptuously furnished. Light penetrated only through an opening in the ceiling. Stranger still, no door gave entrance to the room which might be well described as a magnificent prison.
“It took me a long time to establish what kind of place I was in and to make out the details I have just described to you. My mind struggled vainly to shake off the heavy pall of the sleep that had possessed me. Blurred intimations of something that must have happened to me seeped eerily through my dulled senses: the rumbling of a coach … a long long drive … a terrible dream in which my strength was exhausted.… But these perceptions were so shadowy and so indistinct in my mind that they seemed to have happened to some other woman in some other existence, yet were somehow linked with me and my life by some fantastic duality.
“For a long time, I assured myself, I must be dreaming. I arose tottering. My clothes were near me on a chair, yet I could not remember having undressed or gone to bed. Then, very slowly, the truth began to dawn upon me with all the horror it held to a chaste girl. I was no longer at home … in so far as I could judge by the sunlight, the day was already two-thirds spent … it was the evening before that I fell asleep … my slumber must have lasted twenty-four hours.… But what had occurred during this long coma?
“I dressed as quickly as I could, each slow and benumbed movement of mine proving to me that the effect of the narcotic had not yet worn off. I realized grimly that the room I occupied had obviously been furnished to receive a woman; the most finished coquette could not have asked for anything that was not ready at hand. Certainly I was not the first woman to be held captive in this splendid prison; but you can understand, Felton, the handsomer the prison, the greater my terror.
“Luxurious though the chamber was, it was a prison nevertheless. I essayed in vain to get out. I sounded all the walls, seeking to discover a door; everywhere only a dull, flat thud replied to my beating fists. I made the rounds of the room a score of times at least, hoping against hope to find some exit. As last, baffled, I fell into a chair, crushed by fright and fatigue.
“Meanwhile night was fast falling and, with night, my terrors increased. What was I to do? Should I sit still where I was? What else could I do? I sensed I was beset with all manner of unknown dangers; any step I took might cast me into them. Though I had eaten nothing since the day before, my fears prevented me from feeling hungry.
“No noise reached me from the outside or I might have measured the passage of time. I could only guess that it was probably now seven or eight o’clock in the evening, for it was in October all this happened and everything was quite dark.
“Suddenly the creaking of a door turning on its hinges made me start. A globe of fire appeared above the glazed opening in the ceiling. By the brilliant light it cast into my chamber, I perceived with dismay that a man loomed up within a few steps of me. A table set for two, bearing a supper ready to serve, stood as if by magic in the middle of the apartment.
“Alas it was the man who had pursued me for a whole year … who had sworn my dishonor … and who, by the first words he uttered, gave me to understand that he had accomplished it the previous night.…”
“The scoundrel!” Felton shuddered. “Oh, what infamy!” The officer frowned, his eyes seemed to hang on her lips. Milady, her eyes downcast, nevertheless noted the interest her Puritan took in this bizarre recital.
“What baser infamy can you imagine, Felton?” she asked helplessly. “This man believed that by triumphing over me in my sleep, he had settled everything satisfactorily … he came, trusting that I would accept my disgrace … he was prepared to offer his fortune in exchange for my love.…
“All the contempt and scorn that can rise in the heart of a virtuous woman I poured upon that man. I dare say he was accustomed to reproaches of the sort. He listened to me calmly, smiling, his arms crossed; then, thinking I had had my say, he stepped forward. I sprang toward the table, seized a knife and placed its point against my breast.”
“And then, Madame?” Felton asked impatiently.
And then, Milady explained, she told her seducer that if he took one step more he would have her death on his conscience as well as her dishonor. Apparently something in her looks, her voice and her whole attitude must have reflected that sincerity of gesture, of pose and of accent which carries conviction to even the most perverse souls. The man did not move. But he did speak, banteringly, his lips curled. Her death, he told her, was not what he wished. She was far too desirable a mistress for him to lose her thus after the joys of possessing her only one night. Bowing, he bade his “lovely beauty” farewell and promised to visit her again when she was in a better humor. Having spoken, he blew on a silver whistle. The globe of fire which lighted the room reascended and disappeared and she was again plunged into the dark. Again she heard the noise of a door opening and closing; again the flaming globe descended and again Milady was left completely alone. It was a desperate moment for her. Any doubts she might have entertained about her misfortune had now been scattered by an overwhelming reality. She was in the clutches of a man she not only hated but despised; her captor had already gone to fatal lengths to betray his corruption, but had he reached the limits of his wickedness?
“Who was the man?” Felton interrupted.
“I spent the night sitting bolt upright on a chair,” Milady went on, ignoring his question. “At about midnight, the lamp went out and I was in darkness once more. Vague sounds reached my ears; I started up at the merest echo. Fortunately night passed without any further attempt on the part of my persecutor. Day broke: the table had disappeared and I sat there, knife in hand. In that knife lay my only hope!
“I was worn out with fatigue, my eyes burned from lack of sleep, I had not dared relax for an instant. The light of day reassured me; I flung myself on my bed, fully clothed, and hid the knife under my pillow.
“When I awoke I found a table in the middle of the room, freshly set and covered with viands. Despite my suspicions and my worries, I felt ravenous, for I had touched no food in forty-eight hours. So I ate some bread and fruit; then, remembering the drugged water that had brought about my downfall, I was careful not to pour any water from the carafe that stood on t
he table. Instead I filled my glass at a marble fountain fastened into the wall over my dressing-table.
“Cautious though I had been, I remained anxious. This time, however, my fears were groundless. I passed the day without experiencing anything of the symptoms I dreaded.
“I had taken care to empty out half the carafe so that my suspicions might escape notice. Evening came on and with it the darkness to which my eyes were gradually becoming accustomed. Amid the shadows, I discerned the table sinking through the floor. A quarter of an hour later, it reappeared with my supper, and a moment thereafter the same lamp appeared, lighting up my room. I was determined to eat only such foods as could not be mixed with a soporific. My meal consisted of two eggs and some fruit; I drew some water from my blessed fountain and began to drink. But the first few mouthfuls convinced me that this water did not taste like the water I had drunk that morning. Instinctively I stopped, but I had already drunk about half a glassful. I threw away the rest with revulsion and I sat there, waiting, as a heavy sweat broke over my brow. I could not but doubt that some invisible spy had observed me that morning and taken advantage of my guilelessness in order the better to make sure of my ruin, so coolly plotted and so cruelly pursued.
“Half an hour later the same symptoms reappeared. Luckily I had only taken half a glass this time. I resisted longer. Instead of falling sound asleep, I relapsed into a state of somnolence which felt me aware of what was happening around me, though I was too weak either to defend myself or to seek flight. I dragged myself toward the bed to seize the only defense left to me—the knife which was to save me. But I could not reach the pillow. I swayed, slipped to the ground and clasped my arms about one of the bedposts. Then I knew I was indeed lost!”
Felton, hearing, gave a shudder. His hands twitched convulsively. Milady continued in tones as dramatic as though she were even now a victim of that anguish she had experienced in the moment she was describing so vividly.
“Worst of all,” she whimpered, “this time I was conscious of the danger that threatened me.” She regained control of herself. “My body, drugged, was half-asleep but my mind registered everything I saw and heard. True, all this passed through veils of dreams but it was none the less ghastly.
“I saw the lamp ascend, leaving me in the darkness. I heard the awful creaking of the door, distinguished but twice before, yet how familiar! I felt intuitively that someone was approaching. Felton, they say that natives, lost in the jungles of America, can sense the approach of a cobra; that is exactly what I sensed that night.
“Desperately I made an effort, I strained every nerve in order to cry out; at incredible pains, I even managed to rise to my feet. But I sank down immediately and fell into the arms of my persecutor.”
“When will you tell me who this man was?” the young man pleaded.
One glance satisfied Milady of the pain and revulsion she had inspired in Felton by dwelling upon every detail of her story. But she wished to spare him no pang. The more deeply she could harrow his heart, the more certainly he would avenge her. The name of her seducer she reserved for the climax of her recital. Until then, she nursed every possible effect. On this latest visit, she told Felton, the villain was not contending with an inert acquiescent body, bereft of all feeling. Though Milady was unable to regain the complete exercise of her faculties, nevertheless she was possessed of a sense of immediate danger. Accordingly she struggled with all her might and, weak though she was, she must have put up a determined resistance, for presently she heard him damn “these wretched Puritan swine,” and amid much profanity declare that he knew they tired out their executioners but thought them to be less recalcitrant toward their lovers.
“Alas, my fiercest exertions could not last forever. I felt my strength waning and this time the coward took advantage not of my sleep but of my swooning!”
Felton made almost no sound, save for his harsh, throaty breathing. But sweat streamed over his marble brow and his hand, under his coat, tore nervously at his breast.
“On coming to,” Milady resumed, “my first impulse was to feel under my pillow for the knife I had been unable to reach. It had not availed to defend me, it might still serve in expiation. But as I picked up this knife, Felton, a terrible idea occurred to me. I have sworn to tell you everything and I shall tell you everything; I have promised you the truth and you shall hear it, were it to mean my ruin!”
“I can guess,” said Felton. “You wanted to avenge yourself on this man, did you not?”
“Ay, and how passionately! Here was no Christian feeling, I know. Doubtless that eternal enemy of our souls, that lion that rages ever about us, inspired me with his fury.” Meek, a frail woman accusing herself of a monstrous piece of wickedness, Milady whispered: “The idea did occur to me and probably, for all my prayers, it has remained deep within me. Probably, too, I am now bearing the punishment of my homicidal lust.”
“Go on, Madame,” Felton urged. “You see how carefully I listen and how eager I am to learn what happened.”
“I was resolved to commit the crime as soon as possible; I had no doubt my seducer would return the following night. During the day I had nothing to fear.
“Accordingly, when the hour for breakfast came, I did not hesitate to eat and drink, but I was only going to pretend to eat supper. Thus I had to fortify myself with my morning nourishment against my evening fast. But I did hide a glass of water, part of my breakfast, because thirst had been my chief suffering during my forty-eight hours without food or drink. The day passed without any effect on me other than to strengthen me in the resolve I had taken. But I was careful lest my face betray the thoughts in my heart. I was positive I was being watched. At times I felt a smile on my lips but I quickly covered it with my hand. Ah, Felton, I dare not tell you what made me smile; you would be horrified—”
“Madame, tell me what happened next?”
“Evening came, the routine events took place. As before, my supper appeared under cover of the darkness, the lamp was lighted and I sat down at table. I ate only some fruit. I pretended to pour some water from the carafe but I drank only that which I had kept in my glass. I made the substitution skilfully enough to elude the suspicion of the spies, if spies there were.
“After supper I feigned the same signs of numbness as before; but this time, as if succumbing to fatigue or over-familiar with danger, I dragged myself to my bed, undressed and went to bed. I had no trouble in finding my knife under the pillow and all the while I pretended to be falling asleep I grasped its handle firmly. Two hours or so must have passed; nothing happened. Who could have imagined the night before that this could be? I began to fear he would not come!
“But at length I saw the lamp slowly rise and disappear into the depths of the ceiling; my room was plunged in darkness but I strained my eyes, hoping to distinguish the form of my persecutor. Some ten minutes elapsed. I could hear no sound above the beating of my heart. I implored Heaven that the villain might come. Evidently my prayer was being answered, for I heard the door open and close and, though the carpet was very thick, I distinguished a footstep which made the floor creak and across the obscurity I discerned a shadow advancing toward my bed.”
“Go on, My Lady, make haste,” Felton begged her. “Can’t you see that every word you say burns me like molten lead?”
“I gathered all my strength, Felton, and I remembered that the hour for vengence—or rather for justice—had struck at last. I felt I was another Judith, I poised myself, knife in hand, and when I saw him near me, his arms outstretched to grasp his victim, I uttered a supreme cry of agony and despair as I struck him full in the chest. But oh! the coward had foreseen every eventuality. His chest was covered with a coat of mail; the knife slanted off.”
Her seducer had then seized her arm and wrenched the weapon from her grasp.
“So you have designs on my life, my lovely Puritan?” he mocked. “Lud! this is more than aversion, it is plain ingratitude! Come, come, calm yourself, my pretty pet. I though
t you had grown more tender but I see I was wrong. Heigh-ho, I am not the sort of despot who detains a woman by force. You do not love me! With my usual fatuousness, I doubted it; but now I am convinced. Tomorrow you shall go free.”
Desiring nothing from him save death at his hands:
“Have a care,” she told him, “my liberty spells your dishonor.”
“Explain, fair Sibyl.”
“No sooner do I leave this place than I shall tell everything: I shall make known the violence which you employed against me, I shall recount my captivity and I shall denounce this palace of abominations. You are highly exalted, My Lord, and you sit in the seat of the mighty. But, above you, thrones the King, and above the King thrones the Lord God.”
Her persecutor was by nature a master of callousness and self-control, yet he could not wholly disguise his anger. Milady could not see the expression on his face but her hand was on his arm and she felt he was trembling. Curtly he announced that if such were the case he would not allow her to leave.
“As you will,” she countered, “my torture chamber will be my grave. I shall die here, granted. But you will see whether a phantom accusing is not a more terrible thing than a human being who but threatens.”
“You shall be left no weapon—”
“I need none save that which despair supplies to any creature brave enough to use it. I shall starve myself to death.”
He had then assured her that peace was much better than so uneven a war. Why did she not accept her freedom at once and he would proclaim her virtue, naming her the Lucretia of England? To which she replied that she would name him the Sextus of England, prosecuting him before men as she had prosecuted him before God. And if, like Lucretia, she must sign his accusation in her blood, she would so sign it.
“Tut, tut,” he jeered, “that is quite another matter. Meanwhile, after all, you are comfortable here, you shall want for nothing and if you care to starve to death, that is your own concern.”
The Modern Library Children's Classics Page 121
