Aside from the screenplays, the camera is warm and affectionate toward women, attentively capturing stolen glimpses: Milady waking up, getting out of the overturned caravan, and her thighs while
changing in the inn, her body on the ground with the fleur-de-lis, her shoulders at the doorway of the tent, and her face, her neck…
But Milady is first and foremost a temptress. Though her plans and ambitions play their part, she seduces simply by instinct, almost complying with the fate of her role, even if it marks her ruin. And so she spies on the handsome boys from the convent grate. She runsaway and convinces a good looking officer to go with her; that is when the trouble starts for him and for her climb up the social ladder. She does not even shed a tear when her companion, in despair about being abandoned and condemned, hangs himself: a shadow; a shadow on the wall of a body dangling from a rope. (…) And she sets off with the fleur-de-lis branded on her right shoulder. She goes from love to marriage in every adventure, from the dust of a gypsy caravan to the castle of the de La Fère, from the tavern among soldiers to working for Richelieu, ruining every man who loves her and backing herself into a blind alley that leads to her inevitable and definitive end (…). I once read that Milady deserved a writer like Balzac; for the moment she has found a director like Cottafavi. The adventures, tensions and the explosion of love and hatred around this woman are the core of this dramatic film. And I cannot not mention the stylistic accomplishment of this film, which is best seen in sequence shots or in very choice quick shots.

Lorenzo Ventavoli, Pochi, maledetti e subito. Giorgio Venturini alla FERT 1952-1957, Museo del Cinema di Torino, Turin 1992