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- Александр Дюма
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- Три мушкетера
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- Стр. 679/849
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It
was
a
tolerably
fine
winter
's
day
,
and
a
ray
of
that
pale
English
sun
which
lights
but
does
not
warm
came
through
the
bars
of
her
prison
.
Milady
was
looking
out
at
the
window
,
and
pretended
not
to
hear
the
door
as
it
opened
.
"
Ah
,
ah
!
"
said
Lord
de
Winter
,
"
after
having
played
comedy
,
after
having
played
tragedy
,
we
are
now
playing
melancholy
?
"
The
prisoner
made
no
reply
.
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
continued
Lord
de
Winter
,
"
I
understand
.
You
would
like
very
well
to
be
at
liberty
on
that
beach
!
You
would
like
very
well
to
be
in
a
good
ship
dancing
upon
the
waves
of
that
emerald-green
sea
;
you
would
like
very
well
,
either
on
land
or
on
the
ocean
,
to
lay
for
me
one
of
those
nice
little
ambuscades
you
are
so
skillful
in
planning
.
Patience
,
patience
!
In
four
days
'
time
the
shore
will
be
beneath
your
feet
,
the
sea
will
be
open
to
you
--
more
open
than
will
perhaps
be
agreeable
to
you
,
for
in
four
days
England
will
be
relieved
of
you
.
"
Milady
folded
her
hands
,
and
raising
her
fine
eyes
toward
heaven
,
"
Lord
,
Lord
,
"
said
she
,
with
an
angelic
meekness
of
gesture
and
tone
,
"
pardon
this
man
,
as
I
myself
pardon
him
.
"
"
Yes
,
pray
,
accursed
woman
!
"
cried
the
baron
;
"
your
prayer
is
so
much
the
more
generous
from
your
being
,
I
swear
to
you
,
in
the
power
of
a
man
who
will
never
pardon
you
!
"
and
he
went
out
.
At
the
moment
he
went
out
a
piercing
glance
darted
through
the
opening
of
the
nearly
closed
door
,
and
she
perceived
Felton
,
who
drew
quickly
to
one
side
to
prevent
being
seen
by
her
.
Then
she
threw
herself
upon
her
knees
,
and
began
to
pray
.
"
My
God
,
my
God
!
"
said
she
,
"
thou
knowest
in
what
holy
cause
I
suffer
;
give
me
,
then
,
strength
to
suffer
.
"
