announced to his royal highness as soon as possible.”
“It appears to be pressing,” said the guard, as if speaking
to himself, but really in the hope of obtaining an answer.
The messenger made an affirmative sign with his head.
“In that case,” said the guard, “I will go and seek the
maitre d’hotel myself.”
The young man, in the meantime, dismounted; and whilst the
others were making their remarks upon the fine horse the
cavalier rode, the soldier returned.
“Your pardon, young gentleman; but your name, if you
please?”
“The Vicomte de Bragelonne, on the part of his highness M.
le Prince de Conde.”
The soldier made a profound bow, and, as if the name of the
conqueror of Rocroy and Sens had given him wings, he stepped
lightly up the steps leading to the ante-chamber.
M. de Bragelonne had not had time to fasten his horse to the
iron bars of the perron, when M. de Saint-Remy came running,
out of breath, supporting his capacious body with one hand,
whilst with the other he cut the air as a fisherman cleaves
the waves with his oar.
“Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte! You at Blois!” cried he. “Well,
that is a wonder. Good-day to you — good-day, Monsieur
Raoul.”
“I offer you a thousand respects, M. de Saint-Remy.”
“How Madame de la Vall — I mean, how delighted Madame de
Saint-Remy will be to see you! But come in. His royal
highness is at breakfast — must he be interrupted? Is the
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
matter serious?”
“Yes, and no, Monsieur de Saint-Remy. A moment’s delay,
however, would be disagreeable to his royal highness.”
“If that is the case, we will force the consigne, Monsieur
le Vicomte. Come in. Besides, Monsieur is in an excellent
humor to-day. And then you bring news, do you not?”
“Great news, Monsieur de Saint-Remy.”
“And good, I presume?”
“Excellent.”
“Come quickly, come quickly then!” cried the worthy man,
putting his dress to rights as he went along.
Raoul followed him, hat in hand, and a little disconcerted
at the noise made by his spurs in these immense salons.
As soon as he had disappeared in the interior of the palace,
the window of the court was repeopled, and an animated
whispering betrayed the emotion of the two girls. They soon
appeared to have formed a resolution, for one of the two
faces disappeared from the window. This was the brunette;
the other remained behind the balcony, concealed by the
flowers, watching attentively through the branches the
perron by which M. de Bragelonne had entered the castle.
In the meantime the object of so much laudable curiosity
continued his route, following the steps of the maitre
d’hotel. The noise of quick steps, an odor of wine and
viands, a clinking of crystal and plates, warned them that
they were coming to the end of their course.
The pages, valets and officers, assembled in the office
which led up to the refectory, welcomed the newcomer with
the proverbial politeness of the country; some of them were
acquainted with Raoul, and all knew that he came from Paris.
It might be said that his arrival for a moment suspended the
service. In fact, a page, who was pouring out wine for his
royal highness, on hearing the jingling of spurs in the next
chamber, turned round like a child, without perceiving that
he was continuing to pour out, not into the glass, but upon
the tablecloth.
Madame, who was not so preoccupied as her glorious spouse
was, remarked this distraction of the page.
“Well?” exclaimed she.
“Well!” repeated Monsieur; “what is going on then?”
M. de Saint-Remy, who had just introduced his head through
the doorway, took advantage of the moment.
“Why am I to be disturbed?” said Gaston, helping himself to
a thick slice of one of the largest salmon that had ever
ascended the Loire to be captured between Painboeuf and
Saint-Nazaire.
“There is a messenger from Paris. Oh! but after monseigneur
has breakfasted will do; there is plenty of time.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“From Paris!” cried the prince, letting his fork fall. “A
messenger from Paris, do you say? And on whose part does