The Three Musketeers

sprang from his horse, gave the bridle to Grimaud, and advanced toward the window, after having made a sign to the rest of the troop to go toward the door.
    The little house was surrounded by a low, quickset hedge, two or three feet high. Athos sprang over the hedge and went up to the window, which was without shutters, but had the half-curtains closely drawn.
    He mounted the skirting stone that his eyes might look over the curtain.
    By the light of a lamp he saw a woman, wrapped in a dark mantle, seated upon a stool near a dying fire. Her elbows were placed upon a mean table, and she leaned her head upon her two hands, which were white as ivory.
    He could not distinguish her countenance, but a sinister smile passed over the lips of Athos. He was not deceived; it was she whom he sought.
    At this moment a horse neighed. Milady raised her head, saw close to the panes the pale face of Athos, and screamed.
    Athos, perceiving that she knew him, pushed the window with his knee and hand. The window yielded. The squares were broken to shivers; and Athos, like the spectre of vengeance, leaped into the room.
    Milady rushed to the door and opened it. More pale and menacing than Athos, d'Artagnan stood on the threshold.
    Milady recoiled, uttering a cry. D'Artagnan, believing she might have means of flight and fearing she should escape, drew a pistol from his belt; but Athos raised his hand.
    "Put back that weapon, d'Artagnan!" said he; "this woman must be tried, not assassinated. Wait an instant, my friend, and you shall be satisfied. Come in, gentlemen."
    D'Artagnan obeyed; for Athos had the solemn voice and the powerful gesture of a judge sent by the Lord himself. Behind d'Artagnan entered Porthos, Aramis, Lord de Winter, and the man in the red cloak.
    The four lackeys guarded the door and the window.
    Milady had sunk into a chair, with her hands extended, as if to conjure this terrible apparition. Perceiving her brother-in-law, she uttered a terrible cry.
    "What do you want?" screamed Milady.
    "We want," said Athos, "Charlotte Backson, who first was called Comtesse de la Fere, and afterwards Milady de Winter, Baroness of Sheffield."
    "That is I! that is I!" murmured Milady, in extreme terror; "what do you want?"
    "We wish to judge you according to your crime," said Athos; "you shall be free to defend yourself. Justify yourself if you can. M. d'Artagnan, it is for you to accuse her first."
    D'Artagnan advanced.
    "Before God and before men," said he, "I accuse this woman of having poisoned Constance Bonacieux, who died yesterday evening."
    He turned towards Porthos and Aramis.
    "We bear witness to this," said the two Musketeers, with one voice.
    D'Artagnan continued: "Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having attempted to poison me, in wine which she sent me from Villeroy, with a forged letter, as if that wine came from my friends. God preserved me, but a man named Brisemont died in my place."
    "We bear witness to this," said Porthos and Aramis, in the same manner as before.
    "Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having urged me to the murder of the Baron de Wardes; but as no one else can attest the truth of this accusation, I attest it myself. I have done." And d'Artagnan passed to the other side of the room with Porthos and Aramis.
    "Your turn, my Lord," said Athos.
    The baron came forward.
    "Before God and before men," said he, "I accuse this woman of having caused the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham."
    "The Duke of Buckingham assassinated!" cried all present, with one voice.
    "Yes," said the baron, "assassinated. On receiving the warning letter you wrote to me, I had this woman arrested, and gave her in charge to a loyal servant. She corrupted this man; she placed the poniard in his hand; she made him kill the duke. And at this moment, perhaps, Felton is paying with his head for the crime of this fury!"
    A shudder crept through the judges at the revelation of these unknown crimes.
    "That is not all," resumed Lord de Winter. "My brother, who made you his heir, died in three hours of a strange disorder which left livid traces all over the body. My sister, how did your husband die?"
    "Horror!" cried Porthos and Aramis.
    "Assassin of Buckingham, assassin of Felton, assassin of my brother, I demand justice upon you, and I swear that if it be not granted to me, I will execute it myself."
    And Lord de Winter ranged himself by the side of d'Artagnan, leaving the place free for another