Grimaud. Grimaud gave a grim smile.
“Well?” asked the duke.
“Well, my lord, I sew up the paper in the ball and you, in
your game of tennis, will send the ball into the ditch.”
“But will it not be lost?”
“Oh no; there will be some one at hand to pick it up.”
“A gardener?”
Grimaud nodded.
“The same as yesterday?”
Another nod on the part of Grimaud.
“The Count de Rochefort?”
Grimaud nodded the third time.
“Come, now,” said the duke, “give some particulars of the
plan for our escape.”
“That is forbidden me,” said Grimaud, “until the last
moment.”
“Who will be waiting for me beyond the ditch?”
“I know nothing about it, my lord.”
“But at least, if you don’t want to see me turn crazy, tell
what that famous pate will contain.”
“Two poniards, a knotted rope and a poire d’angoisse.”*
*This poire d’angoisse was a famous gag, in the form of a
pear, which, being thrust into the mouth, by the aid of a
spring, dilated, so as to distend the jaws to their greatest
width.
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“Yes, I understand.”
“My lord observes that there will be enough to go around.”
“We shall take to ourselves the poniards and the rope,”
replied the duke.
“And make La Ramee eat the pear,” answered Grimaud.
“My dear Grimaud, thou speakest seldom, but when thou dost,
one must do thee justice — thy words are words of gold.”
20
One of Marie Michon’s Adventures.
Whilst these projects were being formed by the Duc de
Beaufort and Grimaud, the Comte de la Fere and the Vicomte
de Bragelonne were entering Paris by the Rue du Faubourg
Saint Marcel.
They stopped at the sign of the Fox, in the Rue du Vieux
Colombier, a tavern known for many years by Athos, and asked
for two bedrooms.
“You must dress yourself, Raoul,” said Athos, “I am going to
present you to some one.”
“To-day, monsieur?” asked the young man.
“In half an hour.”
The young man bowed. Perhaps, not being endowed with the
endurance of Athos, who seemed to be made of iron, he would
have preferred a bath in the river Seine of which he had
heard so much, and afterward his bed; but the Comte de la
Fere had spoken and he had no thought but to obey.
“By the way,” said Athos, “take some pains with your toilet,
Raoul; I want you to be approved.”
“I hope, sir,” replied the youth, smiling, “that there’s no
idea of a marriage for me; you know of my engagement to
Louise?”
Athos, in his turn, smiled also.
“No, don’t be alarmed, although it is to a lady that I am
going to present you, and I am anxious that you should love
her —- ”
The young man looked at the count with a certain uneasiness,
but at a smile from Athos he was quickly reassured.
“How old is she?” inquired the Vicomte de Bragelonne.
“My dear Raoul, learn, once for all, that that is a question
which is never asked. When you can find out a woman’s age by
her face, it is useless to ask it; when you cannot do so, it
is indiscreet.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“Is she beautiful?”
“Sixteen years ago she was deemed not only the prettiest,
but the most graceful woman in France.”
This reply reassured the vicomte. A woman who had been a
reigning beauty a year before he was born could not be the
subject of any scheme for him. He retired to his toilet.
When he reappeared, Athos received him with the same
paternal smile as that which he had often bestowed on
D’Artagnan, but a more profound tenderness for Raoul was now
visibly impressed upon his face.
Athos cast a glance at his feet, hands and hair — those
three marks of race. The youth’s dark hair was neatly parted
and hung in curls, forming a sort of dark frame around his
face; such was the fashion of the day. Gloves of gray kid,
matching the hat, well displayed the form of a slender and
elegant hand; whilst his boots, similar in color to the hat