D’Artagnan then thought of the wishes of poor Raoul, of that desponding letter destined for a woman who passed her life in hoping; and as d’Artagnan was inclined to philosophize, he resolved to profit by the absence of the King to have a minute’s talk with Mademoiselle de la Valliere. This was a very easy affair; while the King was hunting, Louise was walking with some other ladies in one of the galleries of the Palais-Royal, exactly where the captain of the Musketeers had some guards to inspect. D’Artagnan did not doubt that if he could but open the conversation upon Raoul, Louise might give him grounds for writing a consolatory letter to the poor exile; and hope, or at least consolation for Raoul, in the state of heart in which he had left him, was the sun, was life, to two men who were very dear to our captain. He directed his course therefore to the spot where he knew he should find Mademoiselle de la Valliere.
D’Artagnan found La Valliere the centre of a circle. In her apparent solitude the King’s favorite received like a queen- more perhaps than the Queen- an homage of which Madame had been so proud when all the King’s looks were directed to her, and commanded the looks of the courtiers. D’Artagnan, although no squire of dames, received nevertheless civilities and attentions from the ladies. He was polite, as a brave man always is; and his terrible reputation had gained him as much friendship among the men as admiration among the women. On seeing him enter, therefore, the maids of honor immediately accosted him; they opened the attack by questions. Where had he been? What had he been doing? Why had they not seen him as usual make his fine horse curvet in such beautiful style, to the delight and astonishment of the curious from the King’s balcony?
He replied that he had just come from the land of oranges. This set all the ladies laughing. Those were times in which everybody traveled, but in which, notwithstanding, a journey of a hundred leagues was an undertaking resulting often in death.
“‘From the land of oranges’?” cried Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente,- “from Spain?”
“Eh, eh!” said the musketeer.
“From Malta?” said Montalais.
“Ma foi! you are coming very near, ladies.”
“Is it an island?” asked La Valliere.
“Mademoiselle,” said d’Artagnan, “I will not give you the trouble of seeking any farther; I come from the country where M. de Beaufort is at this moment embarking for Algiers.”
“Have you seen the army?” asked several warlike fair ones.
“As plainly as I see you,” replied d’Artagnan.
“And the fleet?”
“Yes,- I saw everything.”
“Have we any of us any friends there?” said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, coldly, but in a manner to attract attention to a question that was not without a calculated aim.
“Why,” replied d’Artagnan, “yes; there were M. de la Guillotiere, M. de Mouchy, M. de Bragelonne-”
La Valliere became pale. “M. de Bragelonne!” cried the perfidious Athenais. “Eh, what! is he gone to the wars- he?”
Montalais trod upon her toe, but in vain.
“Do you know what my opinion is?” continued Athenais, pitiless, addressing d’Artagnan.
“No, Mademoiselle; but I should like very much to know it.”
“My opinion is, then, that all the men who go to this war are desperate, desponding men, whom love has treated ill, and who go to try if they cannot find black women more kind than fair ones have been.”
Some of the ladies laughed; La Valliere was evidently confused; Montalais coughed loud enough to waken the dead.
“Mademoiselle,” interrupted d’Artagnan, “you are in error when you speak of black women at Djidgelli. The women there are not black; it is true they are not white,- they are yellow.”
“Yellow!” exclaimed the bevy of fair beauties.
“Eh, do not disparage them! I have never seen a finer color to match with black eyes and a coral mouth.”
“So much the better for M. de Bragelonne,” said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, with persistent malice; “he will make amends for his loss, poor fellow!”
A profound silence followed these words; and d’Artagnan had time to reflect that women, those mild doves, treat one another much more cruelly than tigers and bears.