though fascinated, until the moment when the Comte de la
Fere —- ”
“Your father?” asked De Guiche.
“No, my guardian,” replied Raoul, blushing.
“Very well —- ”
“Until the moment when the Comte de la Fere,” resumed Raoul,
“said, `Come, Bragelonne, draw your sword;’ then only I
rushed upon the reptile and cut it in two, just at the
moment when it was rising on its tail and hissing, ere it
sprang upon me. Well, I vow I felt exactly the same
sensation at sight of that man when he said, `Why do you ask
me that?’ and looked so strangely at me.”
“Then you regret that you did not cut your serpent in two
morsels?”
“Faith, yes, almost,” said Raoul.
They had now arrived within sight of the little inn and
could see on the opposite side the procession bearing the
wounded man and guided by Monsieur d’Arminges. The youths
spurred on.
“There is the wounded man,” said De Guiche, passing close to
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the Augustine brother. “Be good enough to hurry yourself a
little, monsieur monk.”
As for Raoul, he avoided the monk by the whole width of the
road and passed him, turning his head away in repulsion.
The young men rode up to the wounded man to announce that
they were followed by the priest. He raised himself to
glance in the direction which they pointed out, saw the
monk, and fell back upon the litter, his face illumined by
joy.
“And now,” said the youths, “we have done all we can for
you; and as we are in haste to rejoin the prince’s army we
must continue our journey. You will excuse us, sir, but we
are told that a battle is expected and we do not wish to
arrive the day after it.”
“Go, my young sirs,” said the sick man, “and may you both be
blessed for your piety. You have done for me, as you
promised, all that you could do. As for me I can only
repeat, may God protect you and all dear to you!”
“Sir,” said De Guiche to his tutor, “we will precede you,
and you can rejoin us on the road to Cambrin.”
The host was at his door and everything was prepared — bed,
bandages, and lint; and a groom had gone to Lens, the
nearest village, for a doctor.
“Everything,” said he to Raoul, “shall be done as you
desire; but you will not stop to have your wound dressed?”
“Oh, my wound — mine — ’tis nothing,” replied the
viscount; “it will be time to think about it when we next
halt; only have the goodness, should you see a cavalier who
makes inquiries about a young man on a chestnut horse
followed by a servant, to tell him, in fact, that you have
seen me, but that I have continued my journey and intend to
dine at Mazingarbe and to stop at Cambrin. This cavalier is
my attendant.”
“Would it not be safer and more certain if I should ask him
his name and tell him yours?” demanded the host.
“There is no harm in over-precaution. I am the Viscount de
Bragelonne and he is called Grimaud.”
At this moment the wounded man arrived from one direction
and the monk from the other, the latter dismounting from his
mule and desiring that it should be taken to the stables
without being unharnessed.
“Sir monk,” said De Guiche, “confess well that brave man;
and be not concerned for your expenses or for those of your
mule; all is paid.”
“Thanks, monsieur,” said the monk, with one of those smiles
that made Bragelonne shudder.
“Come, count,” said Raoul, who seemed instinctively to
dislike the vicinity of the Augustine; “come, I feel ill
here,” and the two young men spurred on.
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The litter, borne by two servants, now entered the house.
The host and his wife were standing on the steps, whilst the
unhappy man seemed to suffer dreadful pain and yet to be
concerned only to know if he was followed by the monk. At
sight of this pale, bleeding man, the wife grasped her