“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.”
“Who had a son, had she not?”
“I believe she had,” replied the duke, with careless naivete and a complaisant forgetfulness of which no words could translate the tone and the vocal expression. “Now, here is poor Raoul, who is your son, I believe.”
“Yes, he is my son, Monseigneur.”
“And the poor lad has been cut out by the King, and he frets.”
“Better than that, Monseigneur, he abstains.”
“You are going to let the boy rust in idleness; you are wrong. Come, give him to me!”
“My wish is to keep him at home, Monseigneur. I have no longer anything in the world but him, and as long as he is willing to remain-”
“Well, well,” replied the duke. “I could, nevertheless, have soon put matters to rights again. I assure you, I think he has in him the stuff of which marshals of France are made; I have seen more than one produced from such material.”
“That is very possible, Monseigneur; but it is the King who makes marshals of France, and Raoul will never accept anything of the King.”
Raoul interrupted this conversation by his return. He preceded Grimaud, whose still steady hands carried the salver with one glass and a bottle of the duke’s favorite wine. On seeing his old protege, the duke uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
“Grimaud! Good-evening, Grimaud! said he; “how goes it?”
The servant bowed profoundly, as much gratified as his noble interlocutor.
“Two old friends!” said the duke, shaking honest Grimaud’s shoulder after a vigorous fashion, which was followed by another still more profound and delighted bow from Grimaud.
“But what is this, Count,- only one glass?”
“I should not think of drinking with your Highness, unless your Highness invited me,” replied Athos, with noble humility.
“Cordieu! You were right to bring only one glass; we will both drink out of it, like two brothers-in-arms. Begin, Count.”
“Do me the honor,” said Athos, gently putting back the glass.
“You are a charming friend,” replied the Duc de Beaufort, who drank and passed the goblet to his companion. “But that is not all,” continued he; “I am still thirsty, and I wish to do honor to this handsome young man who stands here. I carry good luck with me, Viscount,” said he to Raoul; “wish for something while drinking out of my glass, and the plague stifle me if what you wish does not come to pass!”