Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

there the rope ladder was to be attached.

This manoeuvre, transparent to the Duc de Beaufort, was

quite unintelligible to La Ramee.

The game at tennis, which, upon a sign from Grimaud,

Monsieur de Beaufort had consented to play, began in the

afternoon. The duke was in full strength and beat La Ramee

completely.

Four of the guards, who were constantly near the prisoner,

assisted in picking up the tennis balls. When the game was

over, the duke, laughing at La Ramee for his bad play,

offered these men two louis d’or to go and drink his health,

with their four other comrades.

The guards asked permission of La Ramee, who gave it to

them, but not till the evening, however; until then he had

business and the prisoner was not to be left alone.

Six o’clock came and, although they were not to sit down to

table until seven o’clock, dinner was ready and served up.

Upon a sideboard appeared the colossal pie with the duke’s

arms on it, and seemingly cooked to a turn, as far as one

could judge by the golden color which illuminated the crust.

The rest of the dinner was to come.

Every one was impatient, La Ramee to sit down to table, the

guards to go and drink, the duke to escape.

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Grimaud alone was calm as ever. One might have fancied that

Athos had educated him with the express forethought of such

a great event.

There were moments when, looking at Grimaud, the duke asked

himself if he was not dreaming and if that marble figure was

really at his service and would grow animated when the

moment came for action.

La Ramee sent away the guards, desiring them to drink to the

duke’s health, and as soon as they were gone shut all the

doors, put the keys in his pocket and showed the table to

the prince with an air that signified:

“Whenever my lord pleases.”

The prince looked at Grimaud, Grimaud looked at the clock;

it was hardly a quarter-past six. The escape was fixed to

take place at seven o’clock; there was therefore

three-quarters of an hour to wait.

The duke, in order to pass away another quarter of an hour,

pretended to be reading something that interested him and

muttered that he wished they would allow him to finish his

chapter. La Ramee went up to him and looked over his

shoulder to see what sort of a book it was that had so

singular an influence over the prisoner as to make him put

off taking his dinner.

It was “Caesar’s Commentaries,” which La Ramee had lent him,

contrary to the orders of the governor; and La Ramee

resolved never again to disobey these injunctions.

Meantime he uncorked the bottles and went to smell if the

pie was good.

At half-past six the duke arose and said very gravely:

“Certainly, Caesar was the greatest man of ancient times.”

“You think so, my lord?” answered La Ramee.

“Yes.”

“Well, as for me, I prefer Hannibal.”

“And why, pray, Master La Ramee?” asked the duke.

“Because he left no Commentaries,” replied La Ramee, with

his coarse laugh.

The duke vouchsafed no reply, but sitting down at the table

made a sign that La Ramee should seat himself opposite.

There is nothing so expressive as the face of an epicure who

finds himself before a well spread table, so La Ramee, when

receiving his plate of soup from Grimaud, presented a type

of perfect bliss.

The duke smiled.

“Zounds!” he said; “I don’t suppose there is a more

contented man at this moment in all the kingdom than

yourself!”

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

“You are right, my lord duke,” answered the officer; “I

don’t know any pleasanter sight on earth than a well covered

table; and when, added to that, he who does the honors is

the grandson of Henry IV., you will, my lord duke, easily

comprehend that the honor fairly doubles the pleasure one

enjoys.”

The duke, in his turn, bowed, and an imperceptible smile

appeared on the face of Grimaud, who kept behind La Ramee.

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