Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

awaits the awakening of his mistress, for his glance, in

return, had all the tenderness of love.

“You are there, sir?” he said, respectfully.

“Yes, Raoul,” replied the count.

“And you did not awaken me?”

“I wished to leave you still to enjoy some moments of sleep,

my child; you must be fatigued from yesterday.”

“Oh, sir, how good you are!”

Athos smiled.

“How do you feel this morning?” he inquired.

“Perfectly well; quite rested, sir.”

“You are still growing,” Athos continued, with that charming

and paternal interest felt by a grown man for a youth.

“Oh, sir, I beg your pardon!” exclaimed Raoul, ashamed of so

much attention; “in an instant I shall be dressed.”

Athos then called Olivain.

“Everything,” said Olivain to Athos, “has been done

according to your directions; the horses are waiting.”

“And I was asleep,” cried Raoul, “whilst you, sir, you had

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the kindness to attend to all these details. Truly, sir, you

overwhelm me with benefits!”

“Therefore you love me a little, I hope,” replied Athos, in

a tone of emotion.

“Oh, sir! God knows how much I love, revere you.”

“See that you forget nothing,” said Athos, appearing to look

about him, that he might hide his emotion.

“No, indeed, sir,” answered Raoul.

The servant then approached Athos and said, hesitatingly:

“Monsieur le vicomte has no sword.”

“‘Tis well,” said Athos, “I will take care of that.”

They went downstairs, Raoul looking every now and then at

the count to see if the moment of farewell was at hand, but

Athos was silent. When they reached the steps Raoul saw

three horses.

“Oh, sir! then you are going with me?”

“I will accompany you a portion of the way,” said Athos.

Joy shone in Raoul’s eyes and he leaped lightly to his

saddle.

Athos mounted more slowly, after speaking in a low voice to

the lackey, who, instead of following them immediately,

returned to their rooms. Raoul, delighted at the count’s

companionship, perceived, or affected to perceive nothing of

this byplay.

They set out, passing over the Pont Neuf; they pursued their

way along the quay then called L’Abreuvoir Pepin, and went

along by the walls of the Grand Chatelet. They proceeded to

the Rue Saint Denis.

After passing through the Porte Saint Denis, Athos looked at

Raoul’s way of riding and observed:

“Take care, Raoul! I have already often told you of this;

you must not forget it, for it is a great defect in a rider.

See! your horse is tired already, he froths at the mouth,

whilst mine looks as if he had only just left the stable.

You hold the bit too tight and so make his mouth hard, so

that you will not be able to make him manoeuvre quickly. The

safety of a cavalier often depends on the prompt obedience

of his horse. In a week, remember, you will no longer be

performing your manoeuvres for practice, but on a field of

battle.”

Then suddenly, in order not to give too uncomfortable an

importance to this observation:

“See, Raoul!” he resumed; “what a fine plain for partridge

shooting.”

The young man stored in his mind the admonition whilst he

admired the delicate tenderness with which it was bestowed.

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

“I have remarked also another thing,” said Athos, “which is,

that in firing off your pistol you hold your arm too far

outstretched. This tension lessens the accuracy of the aim.

So in twelve times you thrice missed the mark.”

“Which you, sir, struck twelve times,” answered Raoul,

smiling.

“Because I bent my arm and rested my hand on my elbow — so;

do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, sir. I have fired since in that manner and have been

quite successful.”

“What a cold wind!” resumed Athos; “a wintry blast. Apropos,

if you fire — and you will do so, for you are recommended

to a young general who is very fond of powder — remember

that in single combat, which often takes place in the

cavalry, never to fire the first shot. He who fires the

first shot rarely hits his man, for he fires with the

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