illing my trade, but my debt."

And he threw the money into the river.

The boat moved off toward the left-hand shore of the Lys, bearing
the guilty woman and the executioner; all the others remained on the
right-hand bank, where they fell on their knees.

The boat glided along the ferry rope under the shadow of a pale cloud
which hung over the water at that moment.

The troop of friends saw it gain the opposite bank; the figures were
defined like black shadows on the red-tinted horizon.

Milady, during the passage had contrived to untie the cord which
fastened her feet. On coming near the bank, she jumped lightly on shore
and took to flight. But the soil was moist; on reaching the top of the
bank, she slipped and fell upon her knees.

She was struck, no doubt, with a superstitious idea; she conceived that
heaven denied its aid, and she remained in the attitude in which she had
fallen, her head drooping and her hands clasped.

Then they saw from the other bank the executioner raise both his arms
slowly; a moonbeam fell upon the blade of the large sword. The two arms
fell with a sudden force; they heard the hissing of the scimitar and the
cry of the victim, then a truncated mass sank beneath the blow.

The executioner then took off his red cloak, spread it upon the ground,
laid the body in it, threw in the head, tied all up by the four corners,
lifted it on his back, and entered the boat again.

In the middle of the stream he stopped the boat, and suspending his
burden over the water cried in a loud voice, "Let the justice of God be
done!" and he let the corpse drop into the depths of the waters, which
closed over it.

Three days afterward the four Musketeers were in Paris; they had not
exceeded their leave of absence, and that same evening they went to pay
their customary visit to M. de Treville.

"Well, gentlemen," said the brave captain, "I hope you have been well
amused during your excursion."

"Prodigiously," replied Athos in the name of himself and his comrades.

67 CONCLUSION

On the sixth of the following month the king, in compliance with the
promise he had made the cardinal to return to La Rochelle, left his
capital still in amazement at the news which began to spread itself of
Buckingham's assassination.

Although warned that the man she had loved so much was in great danger,
the queen, when his death was announced to her, would not believe the
fact, and even imprudently exclaimed, "it