You change color, my lord," said Athos, turning to the Duke of Buckingham, "and your eyes kindle with anger and sorrow.

Let your Grace finish the recital, then, and tell M.de Wardes who this woman was who placed the knife in the hand of your father's murderer." A cry escaped from the lips of all present.

The young duke passed his handkerchief across his forehead, which was covered with perspiration.

A dead silence ensued among the spectators.
"You see, M.de Wardes," said D'Artagnan, whom this recital had impressed more and more, as his own recollection revived as Athos spoke, "you see that my crime did not cause the destruction of any one's soul, and that the soul in question may fairly be considered to have been altogether lost before my regret.

It is, however, an act of conscience on my part.