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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“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