the closet by leaning with her back against the door.
“Ah!” cried Madame de Saint-Remy, “you are here, are you,
Louise?”
“Yes, madame,” replied she, more pale than if she had
committed a great crime.
“Well, well!”
“Pray be seated, madame,” said Montalais, offering her a
chair, which she placed so that the back was towards the
closet.
“Thank you, Mademoiselle Aure — thank you. Come my child,
be quick.”
“Where do you wish me to go, madame?”
“Why, home, to be sure; have you not to prepare your
toilette?”
“What did you say?” cried Montalais, hastening to affect
surprise, so fearful was she that Louise would in some way
commit herself.
“You don’t know the news, then?” said Madame de Saint-Remy.
“What news, madame, is it possible for two girls to learn up
in this dove-cote?”
“What! have you seen nobody?”
“Madame, you talk in enigmas, and you torment us at a slow
fire!” cried Montalais, who, terrified at seeing Louise
become paler and paler, did not know to what saint to put up
her vows.
At length she caught an eloquent look of her companion’s,
one of those looks which would convey intelligence to a
brick wall. Louise directed her attention to a hat —
Raoul’s unlucky hat, which was set out in all its feathery
splendor upon the table.
Montalais sprang towards it, and, seizing it with her left
hand, passed it behind her into the right, concealing it as
she was speaking.
“Well,” said Madame de Saint-Remy, “a courier has arrived,
announcing the approach of the king. There, mesdemoiselles;
there is something to make you put on your best looks.”
“Quick, quick!” cried Montalais. “Follow Madame your mother,
Louise; and leave me to get ready my dress of ceremony.”
Louise arose; her mother took her by the hand, and led her
out on to the landing.
“Come along,” said she; then adding in a low voice, “When I
forbid you to come to the apartment of Montalais, why do you
do so?”
“Madame, she is my friend. Besides, I had but just come.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Did you see nobody concealed while you were there?”
“Madame!”
“I saw a man’s hat, I tell you — the hat of that fellow,
that good-for-nothing!”
“Madame!” repeated Louise.
“Of that do-nothing De Malicorne! A maid of honor to have
such company — fie! fie!” and their voices were lost in the
depths of the narrow staircase.
Montalais had not missed a word of this conversation, which
echo conveyed to her as if through a tunnel. She shrugged
her shoulders on seeing Raoul, who had listened likewise,
issue from the closet.
“Poor Montalais!” said she, “the victim of friendship! Poor
Malicorne, the victim of love!”
She stopped on viewing the tragic-comic face of Raoul, who
was vexed at having, in one day, surprised so many secrets.
“Oh, mademoiselle!” said he; “how can we repay your
kindness?”
“Oh, we will balance accounts some day,” said she. “For the
present, begone, M. de Bragelonne, for Madame de Saint-Remy
is not over indulgent; and any indiscretion on her part
might bring hither a domiciliary visit, which would be
disagreeable to all parties.”
“But Louise — how shall I know —- ”
“Begone! begone! King Louis XI. knew very well what he was
about when he invented the post.”
“Alas!” sighed Raoul.
“And am I not here — I, who am worth all the posts in the
kingdom? Quick, I say, to horse! so that if Madame de
Saint-Remy should return for the purpose of preaching me a
lesson on morality, she may not find you here.”
“She would tell my father, would she not?” murmured Raoul.
“And you would be scolded. Ah, vicomte, it is very plain you
come from court; you are as timid as the king. Peste! at
Blois we contrive better than that to do without papa’s
consent. Ask Malicorne else!”
And at these words the girl pushed Raoul out of the room by
the shoulders. He glided swiftly down to the porch, regained
his horse, mounted, and set off as if he had had Monsieur’s
guards at his heels.
CHAPTER 4
Father and Son.
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