Ten Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

my dear sire, without having my poor heart burst with

despair.”

And Marie de Mancini did shed floods of tears. On his part,

the king, much affected, carried his handkerchief to his

mouth, and stifled a sob.

“See,” said she, “the carriages have stopped, my sister

waits for me, the time is come; what you are about to decide

upon will be decided for life. Oh, sire! you are willing,

then, that I should lose you? You are willing, then, Louis,

that she to whom you have said `I love you,’ should belong

to another than to her king; to her master, to her lover?

Oh! courage, Louis! courage! One word, a single word! Say `I

will!’ and all my life is enchained to yours, and all my

heart is yours forever.”

The king made no reply. Mary then looked at him as Dido

looked at AEneas in the Elysian fields, fierce and

disdainful.

“Farewell, then,” said she; “farewell life! love! heaven!”

And she took a step away. The king detained her, seized her

hand, which he pressed to his lips, and despair prevailing

over the resolution he appeared to have inwardly formed, he

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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later

let fall upon that beautiful hand a burning tear of regret,

which made Mary start, so really had that tear burnt her.

She saw the humid eyes of the king, his pale brow, his

convulsed lips, and cried, with an accent that cannot be

described, —

“Oh, sire! you are a king, you weep, and yet I depart!”

As his sole reply, the king hid his face in his

handkerchief. The officer uttered something so like a roar

that it frightened the horses. Mademoiselle de Mancini,

quite indignant, quitted the king’s arm, hastily entered the

carriage, crying to the coachman, “Go on, go on, and quick!”

The coachman obeyed, flogged his mules, and the heavy

carriage rocked upon its creaking axle, whilst the king of

France, alone, cast down, annihilated, did not dare to look

either behind or before him.

CHAPTER 14

In which the King and the Lieutenant each give Proofs of Memory

When the king, like all the people in the world who are in

love, had long and attentively watched disappear in the

distance the carriage which bore away his mistress; when he

had turned and turned again a hundred times to the same side

and had at length succeeded in somewhat calming the

agitation of his heart and thoughts, he recollected that he

was not alone. The officer still held the horse by the

bridle, and had not lost all hope of seeing the king recover

his resolution. He had still the resource of mounting and

riding after the carriage; they would have lost nothing by

waiting a little. But the imagination of the lieutenant of

the musketeers was too rich and too brilliant; it left far

behind it that of the king, who took care not to allow

himself to be carried away to any such excess. He contented

himself with approaching the officer, and in a doleful

voice, “Come,” said he, “let us be gone; all is ended. To

horse!”

The officer imitated this carriage, this slowness, this

sadness, and leisurely mounted his horse. The king pushed on

sharply, the lieutenant followed him. At the bridge Louis

turned around for the last time. The lieutenant, patient as

a god who has eternity behind and before him, still hoped

for a return of energy. But it was groundless, nothing

appeared. Louis gained the street which led to the castle,

and entered as seven was striking. When the king had

returned, and the musketeer, who saw everything, had seen a

corner of the tapestry over the cardinal’s window lifted up,

he breathed a profound sigh, like a man unloosed from the

tightest bounds, and said in a low voice:

“Now, then, my officer, I hope that it is over.”

The king summoned his gentleman. “Please to understand I

shall receive nobody before two o’clock,” said he.

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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later

“Sire,” replied the gentleman, “there is, however, some one

who requests admittance.”

“Who is that?”

“Your lieutenant of musketeers.”

“He who accompanied me?”

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