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At
this
word
SHE
,
Athos
,
who
had
seated
himself
quietly
,
started
up
.
"
SHE
!
What
she
?
"
asked
d'Artagnan
.
"
Why
,
my
companion
.
She
who
out
of
friendship
for
me
wished
to
take
me
from
my
persecutors
.
She
who
,
mistaking
you
for
the
cardinal
's
Guards
,
has
just
fled
away
.
"
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"
Your
companion
!
"
cried
d'Artagnan
,
becoming
more
pale
than
the
white
veil
of
his
mistress
.
"
Of
what
companion
are
you
speaking
,
dear
Constance
?
"
"
Of
her
whose
carriage
was
at
the
gate
;
of
a
woman
who
calls
herself
your
friend
;
of
a
woman
to
whom
you
have
told
everything
.
"
"
Her
name
,
her
name
!
"
cried
d'Artagnan
.
"
My
God
,
can
you
not
remember
her
name
?
"
"
Yes
,
it
was
pronounced
in
my
hearing
once
.
Stop
--
but
--
it
is
very
strange
--
oh
,
my
God
,
my
head
swims
!
I
can
not
see
!
"
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"
Help
,
help
,
my
friends
!
her
hands
are
icy
cold
,
"
cried
d'Artagnan
.
"
She
is
ill
!
Great
God
,
she
is
losing
her
senses
!
"
While
Porthos
was
calling
for
help
with
all
the
power
of
his
strong
voice
,
Aramis
ran
to
the
table
to
get
a
glass
of
water
;
but
he
stopped
at
seeing
the
horrible
alteration
that
had
taken
place
in
the
countenance
of
Athos
,
who
,
standing
before
the
table
,
his
hair
rising
from
his
head
,
his
eyes
fixed
in
stupor
,
was
looking
at
one
of
the
glasses
,
and
appeared
a
prey
to
the
most
horrible
doubt
.