by Alexandre Dumas

“ The air I breathe is the air of liberty! Ah, thanks, Felton, thanks!"
The young man pressed her to his heart.
"But what is the matter with my hands!" asked Milady; "it seems as if my wrists had been crushed in a vice."
Milady held out her arms; her wrists were bruised.
"Alas!" said Felton, looking at those beautiful hands, and shaking his head sorrowfully.
"Oh, it's nothing, nothing!" cried Milady. "I remember now."
Milady looked around her, as if in search of something.
"It is there," said Felton, touching the bag of money with his foot. ”

“ Milady started with joy. She could read to the depths of the heart of this young man; the death of Buckingham was written there at full length.
"Felton," cried she, "you are as great as Judas Maccabeus! If you die, I will die with you; that is all I can say to you."
"Silence!" cried Felton; "we are here."
In fact, they touched the sloop.
Felton mounted the ladder first, and gave his hand to Milady, while the sailors supported her, for the sea was still much agitated. ”

“ CERTES, if the knife had been left in her power, she would now have thought, not of killing herself, but of killing the baron.
At six o'clock Lord de Winter came in. He was armed at all points. This man, in whom Milady till that time had only seen a very simple gentleman, had become an admirable jailer. He appeared to foresee all, to divine all, to anticipate all.
A single look at Milady apprised him of all that was passing in her mind.
"Ay!" said he, "I see; but you shall not kill me today. You have no longer a weapon; and besides, I am on my guard. You had begun to pervert my poor Felton. ”