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- Александр Дюма
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- Три мушкетера
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- Стр. 807/849
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"
Oh
,
I
remember
!
"
said
Mme.
Bonacieux
,
"
the
Comtesse
de
Winter
.
"
The
four
friends
uttered
one
and
the
same
cry
,
but
that
of
Athos
dominated
all
the
rest
.
At
that
moment
the
countenance
of
Mme.
Bonacieux
became
livid
;
a
fearful
agony
pervaded
her
frame
,
and
she
sank
panting
into
the
arms
of
Porthos
and
Aramis
.
D'Artagnan
seized
the
hands
of
Athos
with
an
anguish
difficult
to
be
described
.
"
And
what
do
you
believe
?
'
His
voice
was
stifled
by
sobs
.
"
I
believe
everything
,
"
said
Athos
biting
his
lips
till
the
blood
sprang
to
avoid
sighing
.
"
d'Artagnan
,
d'Artagnan
!
"
cried
Mme.
Bonacieux
,
"
where
art
thou
?
Do
not
leave
me
!
You
see
I
am
dying
!
"
D'Artagnan
released
the
hands
of
Athos
which
he
still
held
clasped
in
both
his
own
,
and
hastened
to
her
.
Her
beautiful
face
was
distorted
with
agony
;
her
glassy
eyes
had
no
longer
their
sight
;
a
convulsive
shuddering
shook
her
whole
body
;
the
sweat
rolled
from
her
brow
.
"
In
the
name
of
heaven
,
run
,
call
!
Aramis
!
Porthos
!
Call
for
help
!
"
"
Useless
!
"
said
Athos
,
"
useless
!
For
the
poison
which
SHE
pours
there
is
no
antidote
.
"
