Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

had returned and said that the government had no more money

to give Monsieur Scarron.

It was on Thursday, the abbe’s reception day; people went

there in crowds. The cardinal’s refusal to pay the pension

was known about the town in half an hour and he was abused

with wit and vehemence.

In the Rue Saint Honore Athos fell in with two gentlemen

whom he did not know, on horseback like himself, followed by

a lackey like himself, and going in the same direction that

he was. One of them, hat in hand, said to him:

“Would you believe it, monsieur? that contemptible Mazarin

has stopped poor Scarron’s pension.”

“That is unreasonable,” said Athos, saluting in his turn the

two cavaliers. And they separated with courteous gestures.

“It happens well that we are going there this evening,” said

Athos to the vicomte; “we will pay our compliments to that

poor man.”

“What, then, is this Monsieur Scarron, who thus puts all

Paris in commotion? Is he some minister out of office?”

“Oh, no, not at all, vicomte,” Athos replied; “he is simply

a gentleman of great genius who has fallen into disgrace

with the cardinal through having written certain verses

against him.”

“Do gentlemen, then, make verses?” asked Raoul, naively, “I

thought it was derogatory.”

“So it is, my dear vicomte,” said Athos, laughing, “to make

bad ones; but to make good ones increases fame — witness

Monsieur de Rotrou. Nevertheless,” he continued, in the tone

of one who gives wholesome advice, “I think it is better not

to make them.”

“Then,” said Raoul, “this Monsieur Scarron is a poet?”

“Yes; you are warned, vicomte. Consider well what you do in

that house. Talk only by gestures, or rather always listen.”

Page 152

Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

“Yes, monsieur,” replied Raoul.

“You will see me talking with one of my friends, the Abbe

d’Herblay, of whom you have often heard me speak.”

“I remember him, monsieur.”

“Come near to us from time to time, as if to speak; but do

not speak, and do not listen. That little stratagem may

serve to keep off interlopers.”

“Very well, monsieur; I will obey you at all points.”

Athos made two visits in Paris; at seven o’clock he and

Raoul directed their steps to the Rue des Tournelles; it was

stopped by porters, horses and footmen. Athos forced his way

through and entered, followed by the young man. The first

person that struck him on his entrance was Aramis, planted

near a great chair on castors, very large, covered with a

canopy of tapestry, under which there moved, enveloped in a

quilt of brocade, a little face, youngish, very merry,

somewhat pallid, whilst its eyes never ceased to express a

sentiment at once lively, intellectual, and amiable. This

was the Abbe Scarron, always laughing, joking, complimenting

— yet suffering — and toying nervously with a small

switch.

Around this kind of rolling tent pressed a crowd of

gentlemen and ladies. The room was neatly, comfortably

furnished. Large valances of silk, embroidered with flowers

of gay colors, which were rather faded, fell from the wide

windows; the fittings of the room were simple, but in

excellent taste. Two well trained servingmen were in

attendance on the company. On perceiving Athos, Aramis

advanced toward him, took him by the hand and presented him

to Scarron. Raoul remained silent, for he was not prepared

for the dignity of the bel esprit.

After some minutes the door opened and a footman announced

Mademoiselle Paulet.

Athos touched the shoulder of the vicomte.

“Look at this lady, Raoul, she is an historic personage; it

was to visit her King Henry IV. was going when he was

assassinated.”

Every one thronged around Mademoiselle Paulet, for she was

always very much the fashion. She was a tall woman, with a

slender figure and a forest of golden curls, such as Raphael

was fond of and Titian has painted all his Magdalens with.

This fawn-colored hair, or, perhaps the sort of ascendancy

which she had over other women, gave her the name of “La

Lionne.” Mademoiselle Paulet took her accustomed seat, but

before sitting down, she cast, in all her queen-like

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