CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Trial

"You may speak to defend yourself," said Athos, "Mister d'Artagnan, you may speak to her first."

D'Artagnan stepped closer to Milady. "I have little to say," he began, "I believe this woman fed poison to Constance Bonacieux, who died yesterday."

Athos turned to Porthos and Aramis.

"We also believe this," they said together.

"Now it is my turn," said Athos, who suddenly became strangely pale. "Gentlemen, I know this woman well. She is my wife!"

His three friends could hardly believe him and stared at him in shock. Milady covered her face with her hands.

"I must tell you my secret. My true name is not Athos. Mister Treville is the only man in Paris who knows my real name," said Athos. "Gentlemen, last night you heard Madam Bonacieux say my name. I am the Comte de la Fere. I married this woman here when she was only sixteen years old and she was as lovely as an angel. She lived with her brother, who was a religious man, in a town where I was the official. They had recently come to the town and nobody knew where they came from. Still, she was so beautiful and her brother was so good that nobody asked them about their past. I fell in love with her when I first saw her and married her even though my family did not want me to. In our first months together I quickly discovered that her lovely face hid a terrible heart."

Athos stopped talking for a moment, and a strange smile appeared on his lips. "One day," he continued, "I saw her changing clothes in the light. She had never let me see her body in the light before and I learned why. On her shoulder she had a tattoo; it was the mark of death—saying that she was going to be executed. She told me that she had been a thief—and she admitted that she had stolen the money from a church!"

He paused again, but the others were too shocked to speak.

"I was a high official, and in my land I had the power of life and death. So, I tied her hands and legs and hung her on a tree—and left her there to die. As you can see, my friends—she did not die then, although I believed that she did."

"Are you sure that this is the same woman?" asked Porthos, staring at Milady in shock.

"You can see yourself," said Athos, and he pulled the shirt off her beautiful shoulders. On one of her lovely shoulders was the mark of death.

"My God!" Porthos said, then became quiet again.

Milady made a cry of anger and pulled her shoulders back into her shirt. She stared at Athos with eyes full of hate. "I dare you to find the man who gave me the mark," she screamed, "Only he has the right of the law."

"Quiet," said a deep voice, "I will answer to that."

The tall man in the red cloak took a step forward and then lifted a hand and took off his cloak. Milady looked up at his face, and her eyes filled with fear.

"Oh, no, no, no!" she screamed, "You are ... you are ... " she could hardly speak from fear. "You are the executioner of Lille!"

(end of section)