Chapter 27 - Page 2

miserable scene?”

“And can you believe, just and simple man as you are, that if I go into Africa for this ridiculous motive, I will not endeavor to come out of it without ridicule? Will I not give the world cause to speak of me? and to be spoken of nowadays, when there are Monsieur the Prince, M. de Turenne, and many others, my contemporaries, I, Admiral of France, grandson of Henry IV, King of Paris,- have I anything left but to get myself killed? Cordieu! I will be talked of, I tell you; I will be killed, whether or not,- if not there, somewhere else.”

“Why, Monseigneur, this is only exaggeration; and hitherto you have demonstrated nothing of that kind but in bravery.”

“Peste! my dear friend, there is bravery in facing scurvy, dysentery, locusts, and poisoned arrows, as my ancestor Saint Louis did. Do you know those fellows still use poisoned arrows? And then, you know me of old, I fancy; and you know that when I once make up my mind to a thing, I do it in earnest.”

“Yes,- you made up your mind to escape from Vincennes.”

“Ay, but you aided me in that, my master; and, a propos, I turn this way and turn that without seeing my old friend M. Vaugrimaud. How is he?”

“M. Vaugrimaud is still your Highness’s most respectful servant,” said Athos, smiling.

“I have a hundred pistoles here for him, which I bring as a legacy. My will is made, Count.”

“Ah, Monseigneur! Monseigneur!”

“And you may understand that if Grimaud’s name were to appear in my will-” The duke began to laugh; then, addressing Raoul, who from the beginning of this conversation had sunk into a profound revery, “Young man,” said he, “I know there is to be found here a certain De Vouvray wine, and I believe-” Raoul left the room precipitately to order the wine. In the mean time, M. de Beaufort took the hand of Athos.

“What do you mean to do with him?” asked he.

“Nothing, at present, Monseigneur.”

“Ah, yes, I know,- since the passion of the King for La Valliere.”

“Yes, Monseigneur.”

“That is all true then, is it? I think I know her, that little Valliere. She is not particularly handsome, if I remember rightly.”

“No, Monseigneur,” said Athos.

“Do you know of whom she reminds me?”

“Does she remind your Highness of any one?”

“She reminds me of a very agreeable girl whose mother used to live in the Halles.”

“Ah, ah!” said Athos, smiling.

“Oh, the good old times!” added M. de Beaufort. “Yes, Valliere reminds me of that girl.”