She could die, and was not interested.
He, too, was liable, but it seemed for a moment that Was the least of his problems.
The betrayal was not established by any rule or law, what was the greatest betrayal? Betray the law or his heart?
If he broke one would be dead by Now, would not even served suffering, but the betrayal he feared most Was to meet Was to his heart, and did not know that he was already bloody in it.
"No. No. If they see us, it would be death!"
"If I dosn't kiss you I will die anyway."
Two exclamations, nothing more To the eyes of people outside the small space that seemed to be appeared only for them, just for that little moment that no one would ever know.
And the kiss that expected of a life would lead him to death in a short time, but die without a true memory of life, it was like have lived in a purgatory and continue to live it continuously thereafter.
"I hate to see you cry ... Please, tell me what's happened."
Nothing, no gimmick would make her yield. Broke away from the heat embrace of the musketeer, tears of what was a
small penalty never won and never forgotten by the Queen began again to descend copiously on her cheeks.
But D'Artagnan looked for her, he rejoined, because he could not do without her. His eyes seemed to examine her to see if there was something in him that She had never seen, never understood, in order to be able to find, at last, a confidant within those walls that seemed to belong to the court, but the Bastille. No, definitely, the Bastille would have been more hospitable to her.
And there was something, something that kept him tied up, in the hope of knowing, but perhaps not actually ever understand of course, the
reasons for condamning to a dumb smile one of the most beautiful flowers.
"Anna, I know that loving you is to betray France, but not loving you would mean to betray my heart ..."
"Then we will die as traitors."
At that moment, they shook a silent vow, only with their eyes. The betrayal could be the most deadly of sins, and the most beautiful of sentences.