Poverty was repugnant to her; degradation took away two-thirds of her greatness.

Milady was only a queen while among queens.

The pleasure of satisfied pride was necessary to her domination.

To command inferior beings was rather a humiliation than a pleasure for her.
She should certainly return from her exile--she did not doubt that a single instant; but how long might this exile last?
For an active, ambitious nature, like that of Milady, days not spent in climbing are inauspicious days.

What word, then, can be found to describe the days which they occupy in descending?
To lose a year, two years, three years, is to talk of an eternity; to return after the death or disgrace of the cardinal, perhaps; to return when d'Artagnan and his friends, happy and triumphant, should have received from the queen the reward they had well acquired by the services they had rendered her--these were devouring ideas that a woman like Milady could not endure.