Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

Winter. “I once knew a Bragelonne — is he still alive?”

“No, sir, he is dead; and I believe it is from him my

guardian, whose near relation he was, inherited the estate

from which I take my name.”

“And your guardian, sir,” asked the queen, who could not

help feeling some interest in the handsome young man before

her, “what is his name?”

“The Comte de la Fere, madame,” replied the young man,

bowing.

De Winter made a gesture of surprise and the queen turned to

him with a start of joy.

“The Comte de la Fere!” she cried. “Have you not mentioned

that name to me?”

As for De Winter he could scarcely believe that he had heard

aright. “The Comte de la Fere!” he cried in his turn. “Oh,

sir, reply, I entreat you — is not the Comte de la Fere a

noble whom I remember, handsome and brave, a musketeer under

Louis XIII., who must be now about forty-seven or

forty-eight years of age?”

“Yes, sir, you are right in every particular!”

“And who served under an assumed name?”

“Under the name of Athos. Latterly I heard his friend,

Monsieur d’Artagnan, give him that name.”

“That is it, madame, that is the same. God be praised! And

he is in Paris?” continued he, addressing Raoul; then

turning to the queen: “We may still hope. Providence has

declared for us, since I have found this brave man again in

so miraculous a manner. And, sir, where does he reside,

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pray?”

“The Comte de la Fere lodges in the Rue Guenegaud, Hotel du

Grand Roi Charlemagne.”

“Thanks, sir. Inform this dear friend that he may remain

within, that I shall go and see him immediately.”

“Sir, I obey with pleasure, if her majesty will permit me to

depart.”

“Go, Monsieur de Bragelonne,” said the queen, “and rest

assured of our affection.”

Raoul bent respectfully before the two princesses, and

bowing to De Winter, departed.

The queen and De Winter continued to converse for some time

in low voices, in order that the young princess should not

overhear them; but the precaution was needless: she was in

deep converse with her own thoughts.

Then, when De Winter rose to take leave:

“Listen, my lord,” said the queen; “I have preserved this

diamond cross which came from my mother, and this order of

St. Michael which came from my husband. They are worth about

fifty thousand pounds. I had sworn to die of hunger rather

than part with these precious pledges; but now that this

ornament may be useful to him or his defenders, everything

must be sacrificed. Take them, and if you need money for

your expedition, sell them fearlessly, my lord. But should

you find the means of retaining them, remember, my lord,

that I shall esteem you as having rendered the greatest

service that a gentleman can render to a queen; and in the

day of my prosperity he who brings me this order and this

cross shall be blessed by me and my children.”

“Madame,” replied De Winter, “your majesty will be served by

a man devoted to you. I hasten to deposit these two objects

in a safe place, nor should I accept them if the resources

of our ancient fortune were left to us, but our estates are

confiscated, our ready money is exhausted, and we are

reduced to turn to service everything we possess. In an hour

hence I shall be with the Comte de la Fere, and to-morrow

your majesty shall have a definite reply.”

The queen tendered her hand to Lord de Winter, who, kissing

it respectfully, went out and traversed alone and

unconducted those large, dark and deserted apartments,

brushing away tears which, blase as he was by fifty years

spent as a courtier, he could not withhold at the spectacle

of royal distress so dignified, yet so intense.

40

Uncle and Nephew.

The horse and servant belonging to De Winter were waiting

for him at the door; he proceeded toward his abode very

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thoughtfully, looking behind him from time to him to

contemplate the dark and silent frontage of the Louvre. It