another robs him of his poetry, a third of his originality,
another of his humor, another of his independence of
character, a sixth — but, good heavens! what will they
leave him? as Mademoiselle de Scudery remarks.”
Scarron and Raoul laughed. The fair Indian, astonished at
the sensation her observation produced, looked down and
resumed her air of naivete.
Athos, still within the inclosure of the window, watched
this scene with a smile of disdain on his lips.
“Tell the Comte de la Fere to come to me,” said Madame de
Chevreuse, “I want to speak to him.”
“And I,” said the coadjutor, “want it to be thought that I
do not speak to him. I admire, I love him — for I know his
former adventures — but I shall not speak to him until the
day after to-morrow.”
“And why day after to-morrow?” asked Madame de Chevreuse.
“You will know that to-morrow evening,” said the coadjutor,
smiling.
“Really, my dear Gondy,” said the duchess, “you remind one
of the Apocalypse. Monsieur d’Herblay,” she added, turning
toward Aramis, “will you be my servant once more this
evening?”
“How can you doubt it?” replied Aramis; “this evening,
to-morrow, always; command me.”
“I will, then. Go and look for the Comte de la Fere; I wish
to speak with him.”
Aramis found Athos and brought him.
“Monsieur le comte,” said the duchess, giving him a letter,
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“here is what I promised you; our young friend will be
extremely well received.”
“Madame, he is very happy in owing any obligation to you.”
“You have no reason to envy him on that score, for I owe to
you the pleasure of knowing him,” replied the witty woman,
with a smile which recalled Marie Michon to Aramis and to
Athos.
As she uttered that bon mot, she arose and asked for her
carriage. Mademoiselle Paulet had already gone; Mademoiselle
de Scudery was going.
“Vicomte,” said Athos to Raoul, “follow the duchess; beg her
to do you the favor to take your arm in going downstairs,
and thank her as you descend.”
The fair Indian approached Scarron.
“You are going already?” he said.
“One of the last, as you see; if you hear anything of
Monsieur Voiture, be so kind as to send me word to-morrow.”
“Oh!” said Scarron, “he may die now.”
“Why?” asked the young girl with the velvet eyes.
“Certainly; his panegyric has been uttered.”
They parted, laughing, she turning back to gaze at the poor
paralytic man with interest, he looking after her with eyes
of love.
One by one the several groups broke up. Scarron seemed not
to observe that certain of his guests had talked
mysteriously, that letters had passed from hand to hand and
that the assembly had seemed to have a secret purpose quite
apart from the literary discussion carried on with so much
ostentation. What was all that to Scarron? At his house
rebellion could be planned with impunity, for, as we have
said, since that morning he had ceased to be “the queen’s
invalid.”
As to Raoul, he had attended the duchess to her carriage,
where, as she took her seat, she gave him her hand to kiss;
then, by one of those wild caprices which made her so
adorable and at the same time so dangerous, she had suddenly
put her arm around his neck and kissed his forehead, saying:
“Vicomte, may my good wishes and this kiss bring you good
fortune!”
Then she had pushed him away and directed the coachman to
stop at the Hotel de Luynes. The carriage had started,
Madame de Chevreuse had made a parting gesture to the young
man, and Raoul had returned in a state of stupefaction.
Athos surmised what had taken place and smiled. “Come,
vicomte,” he said, “it is time for you to go to bed; you
will start in the morning for the army of monsieur le
prince. Sleep well your last night as citizen.”
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“I am to be a soldier then?” said the young man. “Oh,
monsieur, I thank you with all my heart.”
“Adieu, count,” said the Abbe d’Herblay; “I return to my