Artagnan, do not overwhelm me
to-day, I again implore you! I am like the branch torn from the trunk, I
no longer hold to anything in this world--a current drags me on, I
know not whither. I love madly, even to the point of coming to tell it,
wretch that I am, over the ashes of the dead, and I do not blush for
it--I have no remorse on this account. Such love is a religion. Only, as
hereafter you will see me alone, forgotten, disdained; as you will see
me punished, as I am destined to be punished, spare me in my ephemeral
happiness, leave it to me for a few days, for a few minutes. Now, even
at the moment I am speaking to you, perhaps it no longer exists. My God!
this double murder is perhaps already expiated!"

While she was speaking thus, the sound of voices and of horses drew the
attention of the captain. M. de Saint-Aignan came to seek La
Valliere. "The king," he said, "is a prey to jealousy and uneasiness."
Saint-Aignan did not perceive D'Artagnan, half concealed by the trunk
of a chestnut-tree which shaded the double grave. Louise thanked
Saint-Aignan, and dismissed him with a gesture. He rejoined the party
outside the inclosure.

"You see, madame," said the captain bitterly to the young woman,--"you
see your happiness still lasts."

The young woman raised her head with a solemn air. "A day will come,"
said she, "when you will repent of having so misjudged me. On that day,
it is I who will pray God to forgive you for having been unjust towards
me. Besides, I shall suffer so much that you yourself will be the first
to pity my sufferings. Do not reproach me with my fleeting happiness,
Monsieur d'Artagnan; it costs me dear, and I have not paid all my debt."
Saying these words, she again knelt down, softly and affectionately.

"Pardon me the last time, my affianced Raoul!" said she. "I have
broken our chain; we are both destined to die of grief. It is thou who
departest first; fear nothing, I shall follow thee. See, only, that I
have not been base, and that I have come to bid thee this last adieu.
The Lord is my witness, Raoul, that if with my life I could have
redeemed thine, I would have given that life without hesitation. I could
not give my love. Once more, forgive me, dearest, kindest friend."

She strewed a few sweet flowers on the freshly sodded earth; then,
wiping the tears from her eyes, the heavily stricken lady bowed to
D'Artagnan, and disappeared.

The captain watched the departure of the horses, horse