this messenger come?”
“On the part of M. le Prince,” said the maitre d’hotel
promptly.
Every one knows that the Prince de Conde was so called.
“A messenger from M. le Prince!” said Gaston, with an
inquietude that escaped none of the assistants, and
consequently redoubled the general curiosity.
Monsieur, perhaps, fancied himself brought back again to the
happy times when the opening of a door gave him an emotion,
in which every letter might contain a state secret, — in
which every message was connected with a dark and
complicated intrigue. Perhaps, likewise, that great name of
M. le Prince expanded itself, beneath the roofs of Blois, to
the proportions of a phantom.
Monsieur pushed away his plate.
“Shall I tell the envoy to wait?” asked M. de Saint-Remy.
A glance from Madame emboldened Gaston, who replied: “No,
no! let him come in at once, on the contrary. A propos, who
is he?”
“A gentleman of this country, M. le Vicomte de Bragelonne.”
“Ah, very well! Introduce him, Saint-Remy — introduce him.”
And when he had let fall these words, with his accustomed
gravity, Monsieur turned his eyes, in a certain manner, upon
the people of his suite, so that all, pages, officers, and
equerries, quitted the service, knives and goblets, and made
towards the second chamber a retreat as rapid as it was
disorderly.
This little army had dispersed in two files when Raoul de
Bragelonne, preceded by M. de Saint-Remy, entered the
refectory.
The short interval of solitude which this retreat had left
him, permitted Monsieur the time to assume a diplomatic
countenance. He did not turn round, but waited till the
maitre d’hotel should bring the messenger face to face with
him.
Raoul stopped even with the lower end of the table, so as to
be exactly between Monsieur and Madame. From this place he
made a profound bow to Monsieur and a very humble one to
Madame; then, drawing himself up into military pose, he
waited for Monsieur to address him.
On his part the Prince waited till the doors were
hermetically closed; he would not turn round to ascertain
the fact, as that would have been derogatory to his dignity,
but he listened with all his ears for the noise of the lock,
which would promise him at least an appearance of secrecy.
The doors being closed, Monsieur raised his eyes towards the
Page 14
Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
vicomte, and said, “It appears that you come from Paris,
monsieur?”
“This minute, monseigneur.”
“How is the king?”
“His majesty is in perfect health, monseigneur.”
“And my sister-in-law?”
“Her majesty the queen-mother still suffers from the
complaint in her chest, but for the last month she has been
rather better.”
“Somebody told me you came on the part of M. le Prince. They
must have been mistaken, surely?”
“No, monseigneur; M. le Prince has charged me to convey this
letter to your royal highness, and I am to wait for an
answer to it.”
Raoul had been a little annoyed by this cold and cautious
reception, and his voice insensibly sank to a low key.
The prince forgot that he was the cause of this apparent
mystery, and his fears returned.
He received the letter from the Prince de Conde with a
haggard look, unsealed it as he would have unsealed a
suspicious packet, and in order to read it so that no one
should remark the effects of it upon his countenance, he
turned round.
Madame followed, with an anxiety almost equal to that of the
prince, every maneuver of her august husband.
Raoul, impassible, and a little disengaged by the attention
of his hosts, looked from his place through the open window
at the gardens and the statues which peopled them.
“Well!” cried Monsieur, all at once, with a cheerful smile;
“here is an agreeable surprise, and a charming letter from
M. le Prince. Look, Madame!”
The table was too large to allow the arm of the prince to
reach the hand of Madame; Raoul sprang forward to be their
intermediary, and did it with so good a grace as to procure
a flattering acknowledgment from the princess.
“You know the contents of this letter, no doubt?” said
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