moment:
“Ah! ‘tis Raoul, who is come home.”
Athos, as the name of Raoul was pronounced, looked inquisitively at D’Artagnan, in order to see if any curiosity was painted on his face. But D’Artagnan was still in confusion and turned around almost mechanically when a fine young man of fifteen years of age, dressed simply, but in perfect taste, entered the room, raising, as he came, his hat, adorned with a long plume of scarlet feathers.
Nevertheless, D’Artagnan was struck by the appearance of this new personage. It seemed to explain to him the change in Athos; a resemblance between the boy and the man explained the mystery of this regenerated existence. He remained listening and gazing.
“Here you are, home again, Raoul,” said the comte.
“Yes, sir,” replied the youth, with deep respect, “and I have performed the commission that you gave me.”
“But what’s the matter, Raoul?” said Athos, very anxiously. “You are pale and agitated.”
“Sir,” replied the young man, “it is on account of an accident which has happened to our little neighbor.”
“To Mademoiselle de la Valliere?” asked Athos, quickly.
“What is it?” cried many persons present.
“She was walking with her nurse Marceline, in the place where the woodmen cut the wood, when, passing on horseback, I stopped. She saw me also and in trying to jump from the end of a pile of wood on which she had mounted, the poor child fell and was not able to rise again. I fear that she has badly sprained her ankle.”
“Oh, heavens!” cried Athos. “And her mother, Madame de Saint-Remy, have they yet told her of it?”
“No, sir, Madame de Saint-Remy is at Blois with the Duchess of Orleans. I am afraid that what was first done was unskillful, if not worse than useless. I am come, sir, to ask your advice.”
“Send directly to Blois, Raoul; or, rather, take horse and ride immediately yourself.”
Raoul bowed.
“But where is Louise?” asked the comte.
“I have brought her here, sir, and I have deposited her in charge of Charlotte, who, till better advice comes, has bathed the foot in cold well-water.”
The guests now all took leave of Athos, excepting the old Duc de Barbe, who, as an old friend of the family of La Valliere, went to see little Louise and offered to take her to Blois in his carriage.
“You are right, sir,” said Athos. “She will be the sooner with her mother. As for you, Raoul, I am sure it is your fault, some giddiness or folly.”
“No, sir, I assure you,” muttered Raoul, “it is not.”
“Oh, no, no, I declare it is not!” cried the young girl, while Raoul turned pale at the idea of his being perhaps the cause of her disaster.
“Nevertheless, Raoul, you must go to Blois and you must make your excuses and mine to Madame de Saint-Remy.”
The youth looked pleased. He again took in his strong arms the little girl, whose pretty golden head and smiling face rested on his shoulder, and placed her gently in the carriage; then jumping on his horse with the elegance of a first-rate esquire, after bowing to Athos and D’Artagnan, he went off close by the door of the carriage, on somebody inside of which his eyes were riveted.
14. The Castle of Bragelonne
Whilst this scene was going on, D’Artagnan remained with open mouth and a confused gaze. Everything had turned out so differently from what he expected that he was stupefied with wonder.
Athos, who had been observing him and guessing his thoughts, took his arm and led him into the garden.
“Whilst supper is being prepared,” he said, smiling, “you will not, my friend, be sorry to have the mystery which so puzzles you cleared up.”
“True, monsieur le comte,” replied D’Artagnan, who felt that by degrees Athos was resuming that great influence which aristocracy had over him.
Athos smiled.
“First and foremost, dear D’Artagnan, we have no title such as count here. When I call you ‘chevalier,’ it is in presenting you to my guests, that they may know who you are. But to you, D’Artagnan, I am, I hope, still dear Athos, your comrade, your friend. Do you intend to stand on ceremony because you are less attached to me than you were?”
“Oh! God forbid!”
“Then let us be as we used to be; let us be open with each other. You are surprised at what you see here?”
“Extremely.”
“But above all things, I am a marvel to you?”
“I confess it.”
“I am still young, am I not? Should you not have known me again, in spite of my eight-and-forty years of age?”
“On the contrary, I do not find you the same person at all.”
“I understand,” cried Athos, with a gentle blush. “Everything, D’Artagnan, even folly, has its limit.”
“Then your means, it appears, are improved; you have a capital house-your own, I presume? You have a park, and horses, servants.”
Athos smiled.
“Yes, I inherited this little property when I quitted the army, as I told you. The park is twenty acres-twenty, comprising kitchen-gardens and a common. I have two horses, – I do not count my servant’s bobtailed nag. My sporting dogs consist of two pointers, two harriers and two setters. But then all this extravagance is not for myself,” added Athos, laughing.
“Yes, I see, for the young man Raoul,” said D’Artagnan.
“You guess aright, my friend; this youth is an orphan, deserted by his mother, who left him in the house of a poor country priest. I have brought him up. It is Raoul who has worked in me the change you see; I was dried up like a miserable tree, isolated, attached to nothing on earth; it was only a deep affection that could make me take root again and drag me back to life. This child has caused me to recover what I had lost. I had no longer any wish to live for myself, I have lived for him. I have corrected the vices that I had; I have assumed the virtues that I had not. Precept something, but example more. I may be mistaken, but I believe that Raoul will be as accomplished a gentleman as our degenerate age could display.”
The remembrance of Milady recurred to D’Artagnan.
“And you are happy?” he said to his friend.
“As happy as it is allowed to one of God’s creatures to be on this earth; but say out all you think, D’Artagnan, for you have not yet done so.”
“You are too bad, Athos; one can hide nothing from you,” answered D’Artagnan. “I wished to ask you if you ever feel any emotions of terror resembling-”
“Remorse! I finish your phrase. Yes and no. I do not feel remorse, because that woman, I profoundly hold, deserved her punishment. Had she one redeeming trait? I doubt it. I do not
