 Chapter 78 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1 by Alexander Dumas, translated by William Robson. This liporbox recording is in the public domain, in which we at length see the true heroine of this history appear. Behind Madame de Saint-Remy stood Mlle. de Lavalier. She heard the explosion of maternal anger, and as she divined the cause of it, she entered the chamber trembling and perceived the unlucky Malicorn, whose woeful countenance might have softened or set laughing whoever observed it coolly. He had promptly entrenched himself behind a large chair, as if to avoid the first attacks of Madame de Saint-Remy. He had no hopes of prevailing with words, for she spoke louder than he, and without stopping, but he reckoned upon the eloquence of his gestures. The old lady would neither listen to nor see anything. Malicorn had long been one of her antipathies, but her anger was too great not to overflow from Malicorn on his accomplice. Montelet had her turn. And you, mademoiselle, you may be certain I shall inform Madame of what is going on in the apartment of one of her ladies of honour. Oh dear mother, cried mademoiselle de Lavalier, for mercy's sake, spare. Hold your tongue, mademoiselle, and do not uselessly trouble yourself to intercede for unworthy people, that a young maid of honour like you should be subjected to a bad example is. Charities of misfortune great enough, but that you should sanction it by your indulgence is what I will not allow. But in truth, said Montelet, rebelling again, I do not know under what pretense you treat me thus. I am doing no harm, I suppose. And that great good for nothing mademoiselle, resumed Madame de Saint-Remy pointing to Malicorn, is he here to do any good? I ask you. He is neither here for good nor harm, madem. He comes to see me, that is all. It is all very well, all very well, said the old lady. Her royal highness shall be informed of it, and she will judge. At all events I do not see why, replied Montelet. It should be forbidden, Mr. Malicorn, to have intentions towards me, if his intentions are honourable. Honourable intentions? With such a face? cried Madame de Saint-Remy. I thank you in the name of my face, madame. Said Malicorn. Come, my daughter, come! continued Madame de Saint-Remy. We will go and inform madame that at the very moment she is weeping for her husband, at the moment when we are all weeping for a master in this old castle of Blois, the abode of grief, there are people who amuse themselves with flirtations. Oh! cried both the accused with one voice. A maid of honour, a maid of honour! cried the old lady, lifting her hands toward heaven. Well, it is there you are mistaken, madame. Said Montelet, highly exasperated. I am no longer a maid of honour, of madames, at least. Have you given in your resignation, mademoiselle? That is well. I cannot but applaud such a determination, and I do applaud it. I do not give in my resignation, madame. I take another service. That is all. In the bourgeoisie, or in the robe? Asked madame de Saint-Remy disdainfully. Pleased to learn, madame, that I am not a girl to survive the bourgeoisie or robins, and instead of the miserable court at which you vegetate, I am going to reside in a court almost royal. Ha-ha! A royal court! Said madame de Saint-Remy, forcing a laugh. A royal court! What think you of that, my daughter? And she turned round toward mademoiselle de la Valière, whom she would by main force have dragged away from Montelet, and who instead of obeying the impulse of madame de Saint-Remy, looked first at her mother and then at Montelet with her beautiful conciliatory eyes. I did not say a royal court, madame. Replied Montelet. Because madame Henrietta of England, who is about to become the wife of S.A.R., monsieur, is not a queen. I said almost royal, and I spoke correctly, since she will be sister-in-law to the king. A thunderbolt falling upon the castle of Blois would not have astonished madame de Saint Remy more than the last sentence of Montelet. What do you say of S.A.R., madame Henrietta? Stammered out the old lady. I say I am going to belong to her household, as maid of honour. That is what I say. As maid of honour! Cried at the same time madame de Saint-Remy with despair, and mademoiselle de Lavalier with delight. Yes, madame, as maid of honour! The old lady's head sank down as if the blow had been too severe for her, but almost immediately recovering herself she launched a last projectile at her adversary. Ah-ho! said she. I have heard of many of these sorts of promises beforehand which often lead people to flatter themselves with wild hopes and, at the last moment, when the time comes to keep the promises and have the hopes realised, they are surprised to see the great credit upon which they reckoned vanish like smoke. Oh! madame, the credit of my protector is incontestable, and his promises are as good as deeds. And would it be indiscreet to ask you the name of this powerful protector? Oh! mon Dieu, no, it is that gentleman there. said mon Dieu, pointing to Malicorn, who during this scene had preserved the most imperturbable coolness and the most comic dignity. Monsieur! cried madame de Saint-Remy with an explosion of hilarity. Monsieur is your protector, is the man whose credit is so powerful, and whose promises are as good as deeds. Monsieur Malicorn! Malicorn bowed. As to Montelet, as her sole reply, she drew the brevet from her pocket and showed it to the old lady. Here is the brevet! said she. At once all was over. As soon as she had cast a rapid glance over this fortunate brevet, the good lady clasped her hands, an unspeakable expression of envy, and despair, contracted her countenance, and she was obliged to sit down to avoid fainting. Montelet was not malicious enough to rejoice extravagantly at her victory, or to overwhelm the conquered enemy, particularly when that enemy was the mother of her friend. She used then, but did not abuse her triumph. Malicorn was less generous. He assumed noble poses in his fauteuil, and stretched himself out with a familiarity which, two hours earlier, would have drawn upon him threats of a caning. —Made of honor to the young madame! —repeated madame de Saint Remy, still but half convinced. —Yes, madame, and through the protection of Monsieur Malicorn more over. —It is incredible! —repeated the old lady. —It is not credible, Louise! —But Louise did not reply. She was sitting thoughtful, almost sad, passing one hand over her beautiful brow she sighed heavily. —Well, but, Monsieur, said madame de Saint Remy all at once, how did you manage to obtain this post? —I asked for it, madame. —Of whom? —One of my friends. —And have you friends sufficiently powerful at court to give you such proofs of their credit? —It appears so. —And may one ask the name of these friends? —I did not say I had many friends, madame. I said I had one friend. —And that friend is called? —Pest! Madame, you go too far! When one has a friend as powerful as mine, we do not publish his name in that fashion in open day, in order that he may be stolen from us. —You are right, Monsieur, to be silent as to that name, for I think it would be pretty difficult for you to tell it. —At all events, said Montelet, if the friend does not exist, the brevet does, and that cuts short the question. —Then I conceive, said madame de Saint Remy, with the gracious smile of the cat, who is going to scratch. —When I found Monsieur here just now, well, he brought you the brevet. —Exactly, madame. You have guessed rightly. —Well, then nothing can be more moral or proper. —I think so, madame, and I have been wrong, as it appears in reproaching you, mademoiselle. —Very wrong, madame, but I am so accustomed to your reproaches that I pardon you these. —In that case, let us be gone, Louise. We have nothing to do but to retire. —Well, madame, said Lavalier, starting, did you speak? —You do not appear to be listening, my child. —No, madame, I was thinking. —About what? —A thousand things. —You bear me no ill will, at least, Louise, cried Montelet, pressing her hand. —And why should I, my dear aura? —Replied the girl in a voice soft as a flute. —Dame! —Resumed madame de Saint-Remy, if she did bear you a little ill will, poor girl, she could not be much blamed. —And why should she bear me ill will, good gracious? —It appears to me that she is of as good a family and as pretty as you. —Mother, mother, cried Louise. —Pretty you a hundred times, madame, not of a better family, but that does not tell me why Louise should bear me ill will. —Do you think it will be very amusing for her to be buried alive at Blois when you are going to shine at Paris? —But, madame, it is not I who prevent Louise following me tither. On the contrary, I should be certainly most happy if she came there. —But it appears that Mr. Malicorn, who is all powerful at court. —Ah, so much the worse, madame, said Malicorn. Everyone for himself in this poor world. —Malicorn, Malicorn, said Montelet, then stooping toward the young man. —Occupy madame de Saint-Remy, either in disputing with her or making it up with her, I must speak to Louise. —And at the same time a soft pressure of the hand recompensed Malicorn for his future obedience. Malicorn went grumbling toward madame de Saint-Remy, whilst Montelet said to her friend throwing one arm around her neck. —What is the matter? Tell me. Is it true that you would not love me if I were to shine, as your mother says? —Oh, no! —said the young girl with difficulty restraining her tears. —On the contrary, I rejoice at your good fortune. Rejoice? Why, one would say you are ready to cry. —Do people never weep except from envy? —Oh, yes, I understand. I am going to Paris, and that word Paris recalls to your mind, a certain cavalier. —Aura! —a certain cavalier who formerly lived near Blois, and who now resides at Paris? —In truth, I know not what ails me, but I feel stifled. Weep, then. Weep, as you cannot give me a smile. —Louise raised her sweet face, which the tears rolling down one after the other illumined like diamonds. —Come, confess —said Montelet. —What shall I confess? What makes you weep? People don't weep without cause. I am your friend. Whatever you would wish me to do, I will do. Malicorn is more powerful than you would think. Do you wish to go to Paris? —Alas —said Louise. —Do you wish to come to Paris? To remain here alone in this old castle, I who have enjoyed the delightful habit of listening to your songs, of pressing your hand, of running about the park with you. Oh, how I shall be en ouie! How quickly I shall die! —Do you wish to come to Paris? —Louise breathed another sigh. —You do not answer me. —What would you that I should reply? Yes or no? That is not very difficult, I think. —Oh, you are very fortunate, Montelet. —Louise —that is to say, you would like to be in my place? —Louise was silent. —Little obstinate thing —said Montelet. —Did ever anyone keep her secrets from her friend thus? But confess that you would like to come to Paris. Confess that you are dying with the wish to see Raoul again? —I cannot confess that. —Then you are wrong. —In what way? —Because do you see this brevet? —To be sure I do. —Well, I would have got you a similar one. —By whose means? —Malicorns. —Or are you telling the truth? Is that possible? —Malicorn is there. In what he has done for me, he surely can do for you. —Malicorn had heard his name pronounced twice. He was delighted at having an opportunity to coming to a conclusion with Madame de Saint-Remy, and he turned round. —What is the question, Mademoiselle? —Come hither, Malicorn. —said Montelet, with an imperious gesture. Malicorn obeyed. —A brevet like this? —said Montelet. —How so? —A brevet like this? That is plain enough. —But I want one. I must have one. —Oh, you must have one? —Yes. —It is impossible, is it not, Mr. Malicorn? —said Louise, with her sweet soft voice. —If it is for you, Mademoiselle. —For me, yes. Mr. Malicorn, it would be for me. —And if Mademoiselle de Montelet asks it at the same time? —Mademoiselle de Montelet does not ask it. She requires it. —Well, we will endeavour to obey you, Mademoiselle. —And you will have her named? —We will try. —No evasive answers. Louis Lavalier shall be made of honour to Madame Henrietta within a week. —How you talk? —Within a week, or else. —Well, or else? —You may take back your brevet, Mr. Malicorn. I will not leave my friend. —Dear Montelet! —That is right. Keep your brevet. Mademoiselle de Lavalier shall be a maid of honour. —Is that true? —Quite true. —I may then hope to go to Paris? —Depend upon it. —Oh, Mr. Malicorn, what joy! —Cry, Louise, clapping your hands and bounding with pleasure. —Little December, said Montelet. —Try again to make me believe you are not in love with Raoul. —Louise blushed like a rose in June, but instead of replying, she ran and embraced her mother. —But damn! said she. —Do you know that Mr. Malicorn is going to have me appointed, maid of honour? —Mr. Malicorn is a prince in disguise, replied the old lady. —He is all-powerful, seemingly. —Should you also like to be maid of honour? —asked Malicorn of Madame de Saint-Remy, whilst I am about it, I might as well get everybody appointed. —And upon that he went away, leaving the poor lady quite disconcerted. —Hoof! murmured Malicorn as he descended the stairs. —Hoof! There goes another note of a thousand lever, but I must get through as well as I can. My friend Manacamp does nothing for nothing. —End of chapter 78, recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. —Chapter 79 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume III, Part I by Alexander Dumas, translated by William Robson. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. —Malicorn and Manacamp The introduction of these two new personages into this history, and that mysterious affinity of names and sentiments, merit some attention on the part of both historian and reader. We will then enter into some details concerning Messieurs Malicorn and Manacamp. —Malicorn, we know, had made the journey to Orleans in search of the brevet destin for Matta-Seltamante-Laye, the arrival of which had produced such a strong feeling at the castle of Bois. —At that moment, Monsieur de Manacamp was at Orleans. —A singular person, was this Monsieur de Manacamp, a very intelligent young fellow, always poor, always needy, although he dipped his hand freely into the purse of Monsieur le Compte-Guiche, one of the best furnished purses of the period. Monsieur le Compte-Guiche had had, as the companion of his boyhood, this de Manacamp, a poor gentleman, vassal-born of the house of Grimond. Monsieur de Manacamp, with his tact and talent, had created himself a revenue in the opulent family of the celebrated Mara-Shal. From his infancy he had, with calculation beyond his age, lent his name and complacence to the follies of the Compte-Guiche. If this noble companion had stolen some fruit destin for Madame de la Mara-Shal, if he had broken a mirror or put out a dog's eye, Manacamp declared himself guilty of the crime committed and received the punishment which was not made the milder for falling on the innocent. But this was the way this system of abnegation was paid for, instead of wearing such mean abelamance as his paternal fortunes entitled him to, he was able to appear brilliant, superb, like a young noble of fifty thousand leva a year. It was not that he was mean in character, or humble in spirit, no. He was a philosopher, or rather he had the indifference, the apathy, the obstinacy which banished from man every sentiment of the supernatural. His sole ambition was to spend money. But in this respect the worthy monsieur de Manacamp was a gulf. Three or four times every year he drained the Compte-Guiche. And when the Compte-Guiche was thoroughly drained, when he had turned out his pocket, sent his purse before him, when he declared that it would be at least a fortnight before paternal munificence would refill those pockets and that purse, Manacamp lost all his energy, he went to bed, remained there, ate nothing, and sold his handsome clothes under the pretense that remaining in bed he did not want them. During this prostration of mind and strength, the purse of the Compte-Guiche was getting full again, and when once filled overflowed into that of de Manacamp, who bought new clothes, dressed himself again, and recommends the same life he had followed before. The mania of selling his new clothes for a quarter of what they were worth and rendered our heroes sufficiently celebrated in Orleans, a city where in general we should be puzzled to say why he came to pass his days of penitence. Provincial debauches, petite nature of six hundred lever a year, shared the fragments of his opulence. Among the admirers of these splendid toilets, our friend Malicorn was conspicuous. He was the son of a syndic of the city of whom the monsieur de Cond, always needy as a de Cond, often borrowed money at enormous interest. Monsieur Malicorn kept the paternal money-chest, that is to say that in those times of easy morals he had made for himself by following the example of his father and lending at high interest for short terms a revenue of eighteen hundred lever, without reckoning six hundred lever furnished by the generosity of the syndic, so that Malicorn was the king of the gay youth of Orleans, having two thousand four hundred lever to scatter, squander and waste on follies of every kind. But, quite contrary to Manicamp, Malicorn was terribly ambitious. He loved from ambition, he spent money out of ambition, and he would have ruined himself for ambition. Malicorn had determined to rise at whatever price it might cost, and for this, at whatever price it did cost, he had given himself a mistress and a friend. The mistress, mademoiselle de Montelet, was cruel as regarded love, but she was of a noble family, and that was sufficient for Malicorn. The friend had little or no friendship, but he was the favorite of the comp de Guiche, himself the friend of monsieur, the king's brother, and that was sufficient for Malicorn. Only, in the chapter of charges mademoiselle de Montelet cost per annum ribbons, gloves, and sweets a thousand lever. De Manicamp cost, money lent, never returned, from twelve to fifteen hundred lever per annum, so that there was nothing left for Malicorn. Yes, we are mistaken, there was left the paternal strongbox. He employed a mode of proceeding upon which he preserved the most profound secrecy, and which consisted in advancing to himself, from the coffers of the syndic, half a dozen year's profits, that is to say, fifteen thousand lever, swearing to himself, observe quite to himself, to repay this deficiency as soon as an opportunity should present itself. The opportunity was expected to be the concession of a good post in the household of monsieur, when that household would be established at the period of his marriage. This juncture had arrived, and the household was about to be established. A good post in the family of a prince of the blood, when it is given by the credit, and on the recommendation of a friend, like the Comte Giche, is worth at least twelve thousand lever per annum, and by the means which monsieur Malicorn had taken to make his revenues fructify, twelve thousand lever might rise to twenty thousand. Then, when once an incumbent of this post he would marry mademoiselle de Montelet, mademoiselle de Montelet of a half noble family, not only would be dowered, but would ennoble Malicorn. But, in order that mademoiselle de Montelet, who had not a large patrimonial fortune, although an only daughter, should be suitably dowered, it was necessary that she should belong to some great princess, as prodigal as the dowager madam was covetous. And in order that the wife should not be of one party whilst the husband belonged to the other, a situation which presents serious inconveniences, particularly with characters like those of the future consorts. Malicorn had imagined the idea of making the central point of union the household of monsieur, the king's brother. Mademoiselle de Montelet would be made of honour to madame, monsieur Malicorn would be officer to monsieur. It is plain the plan was formed by a clear head. It is plain also that it had been bravely executed. Malicorn had asked Manacamp to ask a brevet of maid of honour of the Compteguiche, and the Compteguiche had asked this brevet of monsieur, who had signed it without hesitation. The constructive plan of Malicorn, for we may well suppose that the combinations of a mind as active as his were, not confined to the present, but extended to the future, the constructive plan of Malicorn, we say, was this. To obtain entrance into the household of madame Henrietta, for a woman devoted to himself, who was intelligent, young, handsome, and intriguing, to learn by means of this woman all the feminine secrets of the young household, whilst he Malicorn and his friend Manacamp should, between them, know all the male secrets of the young community, it was by these means that a rapid and splendid fortune might be acquired at one and the same time. Malicorn was a vile name. He who bore it had too much wit to conceal this truth from himself, but an estate might be purchased, and Malicorn, of some place, or even de Malicorn itself, for short, would ring more nobly on the ear. It was not improbable that a most aristocratic origin might be hunted up by the heralds for this name of Malicorn. Might it not come from some estate where a bull with mortal horns had caused some great misfortune and baptized the soil with the blood it had spilled? Charities, this plan presented itself bristling with difficulties, but the greatest of all was Manuel Zeldamantele herself. Capricious, variable, close, giddy, free, prudish, a virgin armed with claws, eregony stained with grapes, she sometimes overturned with a single dash of her white fingers, or with a single puff from her laughing lips, the edifice which had exhausted Malicorn's patience for a month. Love apart! Malicorn was happy, but this love, which he could not help feeling, he had the strength to conceal with care. Persuaded that at the less relaxing of the ties by which he had bound his protean female, the demon would overthrow him and laugh at him. He humbled his mistress by disdaining her, burning with desire when she advanced to tempt him, he had the art to appear ice. Persuaded that if he opened his arms she would run away laughing at him. On her side, Montelet believed she did not love Malicorn whilst, on the contrary, in reality she did. Malicorn repeated to her so often his protestation of indifference, that she finished sometimes by believing him, and then she believed she detested Malicorn. If she tried to bring him back by a cockatry, Malicorn played the cockat better than she could. But what made Montelet hold to Malicorn in an indissoluble fashion was that Malicorn always came crammed full of fresh news from the court and the city. Malicorn always brought to Blois a fashion, a secret or a perfume that Malicorn never asked for a meeting, but, on the contrary, required to be supplicated to receive the favors he burned to obtain. On her side, Montelet was no miser with stories. By her means Malicorn learned all that passed at Blois in the family of the Dowager Madame, and he related to Manicamp tales that made him ready to die with laughing, which the latter out of idleness took ready made to Monsieur de Guiche who carried them to Monsieur. Such, in two words, was the wolf of petty interests and petty conspiracies which united Blois with Olyanne and Olyanne with Paris, and which was about to bring into the last named city, where she was to produce so great a revolution, the poor little Lavalier, who was far from suspecting as she returned joyfully leaning on the arm of her mother for what a strange future she was reserved. As to the good man Malicorn, we speak of the syndic of Olyanne. He did not see more clearly into the present than others did into the future, and had no suspicion as he walked every day, between three and five o'clock after his dinner upon the plos Saint Catherine, in his great coat cut after the fashion of Louis XIII and his cloth shoes with great knots of ribbon than it was he who was paying for all those bursts of laughter, all those stolen kisses, all those whisperings, all those little keepsakes and all those bubble projects which formed a chain of forty-five leagues in length, from the Palais of Blois to the Palais Royale. End of Chapter 79 Recording by John Van Stans of Anna Georgia Chapter 80 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1 by Alexander Dumas, translated by William Robson, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Manicamp and Malicorn Malicorn then left Blois, as we have said, and went to find his friend Manicamp, then in temporary retreat in the city of Olyanne. It was just at the moment when that young nobleman was employed in selling the last decent clothing he had left. He had a fortnight before extorted from the Comp de Guiche a hundred pistoles, all he had, to assist in equipping him properly to go and meet Madame on her arrival at Haver. He had drawn from Malicorn three days before fifty pistoles, the price of the brevet obtained from Antelé. He had then no expectation of anything else, having exhausted all his resources, with the exception of selling a handsome suit of cloth and satin, embroidered and laced with gold, which had been the admiration of the court. But to be able to sell this suit, the last he had left, as we have been forced to confess to the reader, Manicamp had been obliged to take to his bed. No more fire, no more pocket money, no more walking money, nothing but sleep to take the place of repass companies and balls. It has been said, he who sleeps dines, but it has never been affirmed he who sleeps plays, or he who sleeps dances. Manicamp, reduced to this extremity of neither playing nor dancing, for a week at least, was consequently very sad. He was expecting a userer and saw Malicorn enter, a cry of distress escaped him. Hey, what? said he in a tone which nothing can describe. Is that you again, dear friend? Of, you are very polite, said Malicorn. Aye, but look at you, I was expecting money, and instead of money I see you. And suppose I brought you some money? Oh, that would be quite another thing. You are very welcome, my dear friend. And he held out his hand, not for the hand of Malicorn, but for the purse. Malicorn pretended to be mistaken and gave him his hand. And the money, said Manicamp, my dear friend, if you wish to have it, earn it. What must be done for it? Earn it, parpleur. And after what fashion? Oh, that is rather trying, I warn you. The devil! You must get out of bed, and go immediately to Monsieur Le Compte Guiche. I get out, said Manicamp, stretching himself in his bed complacently. Oh, no, thank you. You have sold all your clothes. No, I have one suit left, the handsomest even, but I expect a purchaser. And the shawes? Well, if you look, you will see them on that chair. Very well. Since you have some shawse, and poor point left, put your legs into the first, and you're back into the other. Have a horse saddled and set off. Not I. And why not? Morde, don't you know, then, that Monsieur Le Guiche is at a top? No, I thought he was at Paris. You will then only have fifteen leagues to go instead of thirty. You are a wonderfully clever fellow. If I were to ride fifteen leagues in these clothes, they would never be fit to put on again, and instead of selling them for thirty pistoles, I should be obliged to take fifteen. Sell them for what you like, but I must have a second commission of maid of honour. Good. For whom? His Montelet doubled, then. File, fellow. It is you who are doubled. You swallow up two fortunes, mine and that of Monsieur Le Compte Guiche. You should say that of Monsieur Le Compte Guiche, and yours. That is true. Honour where it is due. But I return to my brevet. And you are wrong. Prove me that. My friend, there will only be twelve maids of honour from a dam. I have already obtained for you a twelve hundred women are trying for, and for that I was forced to employ all my diplomacy. Well, yes, I know you have been quite heroic, my dear friend. We know what we are about, said Manicamp. To whom do you tell that? When I am king, I promise you one thing. What? To call yourself Malachor in the first? No. To make you superintendent of my finances. But that is not the question now. Unfortunately, the present affair is to procure for me a second place of maid of honour. My friend, if you were to promise me the price of heaven, I would decline to disturb myself at this moment. Malachor chinked the money in his pocket. There are twenty pastoles here, said Malachor. And what would you do with twenty pastoles, mon deux? Well, said Malachor, a little angrily, suppose I were to add them to the five hundred you already owe me. You are right, replied Manicamp, stretching out his hand again. And from that point of view I can accept them, give them to me. An instant! What the devil! It is not only holding out your hand that will do. If I give you the twenty pastoles, shall I have my brevet? To be sure you shall. Soon? Today? Oh, take care, monsieur de Manicamp. You undertake much, and I do not ask of that. Thirty leagues in a day is too much. You would kill yourself. I think nothing impossible when obliging a friend. You are quite heroic. Where are the twenty pastoles? Here they are, said Malachor, showing them. That's well. Yes, but, my dear monsieur Manicamp, you would consume them in post horses alone. No, no, make yourself easy on that score. Pardon me. Why, it is fifteen leagues from this place to attempt. Fourteen. Well, fourteen be it. Fourteen leagues makes seven posts. At twenty, sue the post. Seven lever, seven lever the courier, fourteen, as many for coming back, twenty-eight, as much for bed and supper that makes sixty lever this complacence would cost. Manicamp stretched himself like a serpent in his bed, and fixing his two great eyes upon Malachorne. You are right, said he. I could not return before tomorrow. And he took the twenty pastoles. Now, then be off. Well, as I cannot be back before tomorrow, we have time. Time for what? Time to play. What do you wish to play with? Your twenty pastoles, pardon. No, you always win. I will wager them then. Against what? Against twenty others. And what shall be the object of the wager? This, we have said it was fourteen leagues to atop. Yes. And fourteen leagues back. Doubtless. Well, for these twenty-eight leagues you cannot allow less than fourteen hours. That is agreed. One hour to find the comp de guiche. Go on. And an hour to persuade him to write a letter to monsieur. Just so. Sixteen hours and all. You reckon as well as monsieur Colbert. It is now twelve o'clock. Half past? Fine. You have a handsome watch. What are you saying? Said Malicorn, putting his watch quickly back into his fob. Ah, true. I was offering to lay you twenty pastoles against these you have lent me, that you will have the comp de guiche's letter in... How soon? In eight hours. Have you a winged horse, then? That is no matter. Will you bet? I shall have the comp's letter in eight hours. Yes. In hand. In hand. Well, be it so. I lay, said Malicorn, curious to know how this cellar of clothes would get through. Is it agreed? It is. Pass me the pen, ink, and paper. Here they are. Thank you. Manicamp raised himself with a sigh, and, leaning on his left elbow in his best hand, traced the following lines. Good for an order for a place of maid of honour to madame, which monsieur le comp de guiche will take upon him to obtain at sight. De Manicamp. This painful task accomplished, he laid himself down in bed again. Well, asked Malicorn, what does this mean? That means that if you are in a hurry to have the letter from the comp de guiche for monsieur, I have won my wager. How the devil is that? That is transparent enough, I think. You take that paper. Well, and you set out instead of me. Ha! You put your horses to their best speed. Good. Then six hours you will be at a top. In seven hours you have the letter from the comp de guiche, and I shall have won my wager without stirring from my bed, which suits me, and you two at the same time, I am very sure. Decidedly, Manicamp, you are a great man. Ha! I know that. I am to start then for a top. Directly. I am to go to the comp de guiche with this order. He will give you a similar one for monsieur. Monsieur will approve. Instantly. And I shall have my brevet. You will. Ah. Well, I hope I behave gentially. Adorably. Thank you. You do as you please then with the comp de guiche, Malicorn. Except making money of him, everything. Diable. The exception is annoying. But then, if instead of asking him for money you were to ask. What? Something important. What do you call important? Well, suppose one of your friends asked you to render him a service. I would not render it to him. Selfish fellow. Or at least I would ask him what service he would render me in exchange. Huh. That perhaps is fair. Well, that friend speaks to you. What are you, Malicorn? Yes, I. Ha! Ha! You are rich then. I have still fifty pastoles left. Exactly the sum I want. Where are those fifty pastoles? Here, said Malicorn, slapping his pocket. Then speak, my friend. What do you want? Malicorn took up the pen, ink and paper again, and presented them all to Manicamp. Right, said he. Dictate. In order for a place in the household of Monsieur. Oh! said Manicamp, laying down the pen. A place in the household of Monsieur. For fifty pastoles. You mistook me, my friend. You did not hear plainly. What did you say then? I said five hundred. And the five hundred? Here they are. Manicamp devoured the rouleau with his eyes, but this time Malicorn held it at a distance. Eh! What do you say to that? Five hundred pastoles. I say it is for nothing, my friend. Said Manicamp, taking up the pen again. And you exhaust my credit. Dictate. Malicorn continued. Which my friend the comp de guiche will obtain for my friend? Malicorn. That's it, said Manicamp. Pardon me, you have forgotten to sign. Ah, that's true. The five hundred pastoles. Here are two hundred and fifty of them. And the other two hundred and fifty? When I am in possession of my place. Manicamp made a face. In that case give me the recommendation back again. What to do? To add two words to it. Two words? Yes, two words only. What are they? In haste. Malicorn returned the recommendation. Manicamp added the words. Good, said Malicorn, taking back the paper. Manicamp began to count out the pastoles. There want twenty, said he. How so? The twenty I have won. In what way? By laying that you would have the letter from the comp de guiche in eight hours. That's fair. And he gave him the twenty pastoles. Manicamp began to scoop up his gold by handfuls and pour it in cascades upon his bed. This second place murmured Malicorn whilst drying his paper, which at the first glance appears to cost me more than the first. But, he stopped, took up the pen in his turn and wrote to Montelé. Manoiselle, announce to your friend that her commission will not be long before it arrives. I am setting out to get it signed. That will be twenty eight leagues I shall have gone for the love of you. Then with his sardonic smile taking up the interrupted sentence, this place, said he, at the first glance appears to cost more than the first. But the benefit will be, I hope, in proportion with the expense, and Manoiselle de Lavallier will bring me back more than Manoiselle de Montelé. Or else. Or else my name is not Malicorn. Farewell, Manicamp! And he left the room. End of Chapter 80 Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 81 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1, by Alexandre Dumas, translated by William Robson. This Leap Of Box recording is in the public domain. The Courtyard of the Hotel Grimont On Malicorn's arrival at Orléans, he was informed that the Compteguiche had just set out for Paris. Malicorn rested himself for a couple of hours and then prepared to continue his journey. He reached Paris during the night and alighted at a small hotel where, in his previous journeys to the capital, he had been accustomed to put up, and at eight o'clock the next morning presented himself at the Hotel Grimont. Malicorn arrived just in time, for the Compteguiche was on the point of taking leave of Monsieur before setting out for Havre, where the principal members of the French nobility had gone to await Madame's arrival from England. Malicorn pronounced the name of Manicamp and was immediately admitted. He found the Compteguiche in the Courtyard of the Hotel Grimont, inspecting his horses which his trainers and equaries were passing in review before him. The Count, in the presence of his tradespeople and of his servants, was engaged in praising or blaming, as the case seemed to deserve, the appointments, horses and harnesses that were being submitted to him, when in the midst of this important occupation the name of Manicamp was announced. Manicamp, he exclaimed, let him enter by all means. And he advanced a few steps toward the door. Malicorn slipped through the half-open door and, looking at the Compteguiche, who was surprised to see a face he did not recognize instead of the one he expected, said, Forgive me, Monsieur Lacompt, but I believe a mistake has been made. Monsieur Manicamp himself was announced to you instead of which it is only an envoy from him. Ah, exclaimed Deguiche coldly, and what do you bring me? A letter, Monsieur Lacompt. Malicorn handed him the first document and narrowly watched the Count's face, who, as he read it, began to laugh. What? he exclaimed. Another maid of honour. Are all the maids of honour in France, then, under his protection? Malicorn bowed. Why does he not come himself? He inquired. He is confined to his bed. The deuce. He has no money, then, I suppose, said Deguiche, shrugging his shoulders. What does he do with his money? Malicorn made a movement to indicate that upon the subject he was as ignorant as the Count himself. Why does he not make use of his credit, then? continued Deguiche. With regard to that, I think. What? That Manicamp has credit with no one but yourself, Monsieur Lacompt. He will not be at Haver, then, whereupon Malicorn made another movement, but everyone will be there. I trust, Monsieur Lacompt, that he will not neglect so excellent an opportunity. He should be at Paris by this time. He will take the direct road, perhaps, to make up for lost time. Where is he now? At Orléans. Monsieur, said Deguiche, you seem to me a man of very good taste. Malicorn was wearing some of Manicamp's old new clothes. He bowed in return, saying, You do me a very great honour, Monsieur Lacompt. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing? My name is Malicorn, Monsieur. Monsieur de Malicorn, what do you think of these pistol holders? Malicorn was a man of great readiness, and immediately understood the position of affairs. Besides the de, which had been prefixed to his name, raised him to the rank of the person with whom he was conversing. He looked at the holsters with an air of a connoisseur and said, without hesitation, Somewhat heavy, Monsieur. You see, said Deguiche to the saddler, this gentleman who understands these matters well, thinks the holsters heavy, a complaint I had already made. The saddler was full of excuses. What do you think, asked Deguiche, of this horse which I have just purchased? To look at it, it seems perfect, Monsieur Lacompt, but I must mount it before I give you my opinion. Do so, Monsieur de Malicorn, and ride him round the court two or three times. The courtyard of the hotel was so arranged, and whenever there was any occasion for it, it could be used as a riding school. Malicorn, with perfect ease, arranged the bridle and snaffle reins, placed his left hand on the horse's mane, and with his foot in the stirrup, raised himself and seated himself in the saddle. At first he made the horse walk the whole circuit of the courtyard at a foot pace, next at a trot, lastly at a gallop. He then drew up close to the count, dismounted and threw the bridle to a groom standing by. Well, said the count, what do you think of it, Monsieur de Malicorn? This horse, Monsieur Lacompt, is of the Mecklenburg breed. In looking whether the bit suited his mouth, I saw that he was rising seven, the very age when the training of a horse intended for a charger should commence. The forehand is light. A horse which holds its head high, it is said, never tires his rider's hand. The withers are rather low. The drooping of the hindquarters would almost make me doubt the purity of its German breed, and I think there is English blood in him. He stands well on his legs, but he trots high, and may cut himself, which requires attention to be paid to his shoeing. He is tractable, and as I made him turn round and change his feet, I found him quick and ready in doing so. Well, said Monsieur de Malicorn, exclaimed the count, you are a judge of horses I perceive. Then, turning toward him again, he continued, you are most becomingly dressed, Monsieur de Malicorn. That is not a provincial cut, I presume. Such a style of dress is not to be met with a tour or olyan. No, Monsieur Lacombe, do my clothes were made at Paris? There is no doubt about that, but let us resume our own affair. Manicamp wishes for the appointment of a second maid of honour. You perceive what he has written, Monsieur Lacombe. For whom was the first appointment? Malicorn felt the colour rise in his face as he answered hurriedly. A charming maid of honour, mademoiselle de Montelet. Aha! You are acquainted with her. We are affianced, or nearly so. That is quite another thing, then, a thousand compliments. Exclaimed de Guiche, upon whose lips a courtier's jest was already fitting, but to whom the word affianced, addressed by Malicorn with respect to mademoiselle de Montelet, recalled the respect due to women. And for whom is the second appointment desired? Asked de Guiche. Is it for anyone to whom Manicamp may happen to be affianced? In that case, I pity her poor girl, for she will have a sad fellow for a husband. No, Monsieur Lacombe. The second appointment is for mademoiselle de la banque de la valière. Unknown, said de Guiche. Unknown? Yes, Monsieur, said Malicorn, smiling in his turn. Very good. I will speak to Monsieur about it. By the by, she is of gentle birth. She belongs to a very good family, and is made of honour to madame. That's well. Will you accompany me to Monsieur? Most certainly, if I may be permitted the honour. Have you your carriage? No, I came here on horseback. Dressed as you are? No, Monsieur. I posted from Olyan, and I changed my travelling suit for the one I have on, in order to present myself to you. True. You already told me you had come from Olyan. Saying which he crumpled Manicamp's letter in his hand and thrust it in his pocket. I beg your pardon, said Malicorn timidly, but I do not think you have read all. Not read all, do you say? No, there were two letters in the same envelope. Oh, are you sure? Quite sure. Let us look then, said the Count, as he opened the letter again. Ah, you are right. He said, opening the paper which he had not yet read. I suspected it. He continued. Another application for an appointment under Monsieur. This Manicamp is a regular vampire. He is carrying on a trade in it. No, Monsieur Lacombe, he wishes to make a present of it. To whom? To myself, Monsieur. Why did you not say so at once, my dear Monsieur, Mauvis corn? Malicorn, Monsieur Lacombe. Forgive me. It is the Latin that bothers me. That terrible mind of etymologies. Why the deuce are young men of family-taught Latin. Mala and Mauvis, you understand it is the same thing. You will forgive me, I trust, Monsieur de Malicorn. Your kindness affects me much, Monsieur, but it is a reason why I should make you acquainted with one circumstance without any delay. What is it? That I was not born a gentleman. I am not without courage and not altogether deficient in ability, but my name is Malicorn simply. You appear to me, Monsieur. Exclaim the count, looking at the astute face of his companion. To be a most agreeable man, your face pleases me, Monsieur Malicorn, and you must possess some indisputably excellent qualities to have pleased that egotistical Manicamp. Be candid and tell me whether you are not some saint descended upon the earth. Why so? For the simple reason that he makes you a present of anything. Did you not say that he intended to make you a present of some appointment in the king's house? I beg your pardon, Count, but if I succeed in obtaining the appointment, you and not he will have bestowed it on me. Besides, he will not have given it to you for nothing, I suppose. Stay, I have it. There is a Malicorn at Olyan who lends the money to the prince. I think that must be my father, Monsieur. Ah, the prince has the father, and that terrible dragon of a Manicamp has the son. Take care, Monsieur, I know him. He will fleece you completely. The only difference is that I lend without interest, said Malicorn, smiling. I was correct in saying you were either a saint or very much resembled one. Monsieur Malicorn, you shall have the post you want, or I will forfeit my name. Ah, Monsieur Lecompt, what a debt of gratitude shall I not owe you, said Malicorn, transported. Let us go to the prince, my dear Monsieur Malicorn. And the guiche proceeded toward the door, desiring Malicorn to follow him. At the very moment they were about to cross the threshold, a young man appeared on the other side. He was from twenty-four to twenty-five years of age, of pale complexion, bright eyes and brown hair and eyebrows. Good day, he said suddenly, almost pushing the guiche back into the courtyard. Is that you, Deward? What, and booted, spurred and whip in hand, too? The most befitting costume for a man about to set off for have? There will be no one left in Paris tomorrow. And hereupon he saluted Malicorn with great ceremony, whose handsome dress gave him the appearance of a prince. Monsieur Malicorn, said de Guiche to his friend, de Ward's bowed. Monsieur de Ward, said Guiche to Malicorn, who bowed in return. By the by de Ward, continued de Guiche, you are so well acquainted with these matters, can you tell us, probably, what appointments are still vacant at the court, or rather in the prince's household? In the prince's household, said de Ward's, looking up with an air of consideration. Let me see, the appointment of the master of the horse is vacant, I believe. Oh! said Malicorn, there is no question of such a post as that, monsieur. My ambition is not nearly so exalted. De Ward had a more penetrating observation than de Guiche, and fathomed Malicorn immediately. The fact is, he said, looking at him from head to foot, a man must be either a duke or a pier to fill that post. All I solicit, said Malicorn, is a very humble appointment. I am of little importance, and I do not rank myself above my position. Monsieur Malicorn, whom you see here, said de Guiche to de Ward, is a very excellent fellow, whose only misfortune is that of not being of gentle birth. As far as I am concerned, you know, I attach little value to those who have but gentle birth the boast of. Surely, said de Ward, but you will allow me to remark my dear count that, without rank of some sort, one can hardly hope to belong to his royal highness's household. You are right, said the count. Court etiquette is absolute. The devil, we never so much as gave it a thought. Alas, the sad misfortune for me, Mr. Lacombe, said Malicorn, changing color. Yet not without remedy, I hope. Returned to Guiche. The remedy is found easily enough. Exclaimed de Ward, you can be created a gentleman. His eminence to Cardinal Mazadine did nothing else from morning till night. Hush, hush, de Ward, said the count. No jests of that kind. Ideal becomes us to turn such matters into ridicule. Letters of nobility, it is true, are purchasable. But that is a sufficient misfortune, without the nobles themselves laughing at it. Upon my word, de Guiche, you're quite a puritan, as the English say. At this moment, the vicomte de Bragalone was announced by one of the servants in the courtyard, in precisely the same manner as he would have done in a room. Come here, my dear Raoul. What, you two booted and spurred. You are setting off, then? Bragalone approached the group of young men and saluted them with that quiet and serious manner peculiar to him. His salutation was principally addressed to de Ward, with whom he was unacquainted, and whose features on perceiving Raoul had assumed a strange sternness of expression. I have come, de Guiche, he said. To ask your companionship. We set off for have, I presume. That is admirable. Delightful. We shall have a most enjoyable journey. Monsieur Malicorn, Monsieur Bragalone. Ha! Monsieur de Ward, let me present you. The young men saluted each other in a restrained manner. Their very nature is seen from beginning, disposed to take exception to each other. De Ward was pliant, subtle, full of dissimulation. Raoul was calm, graven, upright. Decide between us, between de Ward and myself, Raoul. Upon what subject? Upon the subject of noble birth. Who can be better informed on that subject than a de Gremont? No compliments. It is your opinion, I ask. At least inform me of the subject under discussion. De Ward asserts that the distribution of titles is abused. I, on the contrary, maintain that a title is useless to the man on whom it is bestowed. And you are correct, said Bragalone quietly. But, Monsieur Le Bicompt, interrupted de Ward with a kind of obstinacy, I affirm that it is I who am correct. What was your opinion, monsieur? I was saying that everything is done in France at the present moment to humiliate men of family. And by whom? By the king himself. He surrounds himself with people who cannot show four quarterings. Nonsense, said de Guiche. Where could you possibly have seen that, de Ward? One example will suffice. He returned directing his look fully upon Raoul. Stated, then. Do you know who has just been nominated, Captain General of the Musketeers, an appointment more valuable than a peerage, for it gives precedence over all the Myrishals of France? Raoul's colour mounted in his face, for he saw the object de Ward had in view. No. Who has been appointed? In any case, it must have been very recently. For the appointment was vacant eight days ago, a proof of which is that the king refused monsieur, who solicited the post for one of his protégés. Well, the king refused it to monsieur's protégé in order to bestow it upon the Chevalier d'Artagnan, a younger brother of some Gascon family, who has been trailing his sword in the anti-chambers during the last thirty years. Forgive me if I interrupt you, said Raoul, darting a glance full of severity at de Ward. But you give me the impression of being unacquainted with the gentleman of whom you are speaking. I not acquainted with monsieur d'Artagnan. Can you tell me, monsieur, who does not know him? Those who do know him, monsieur, replied Raoul with still greater calmness and sternness of manner, are in the habit of saying that if he is not as good a gentleman as the king, which is not his fault, he is the equal of all the kings of the earth in courage and loyalty, such as my opinion, monsieur, and I thank heaven I have known monsieur d'Artagnan from my birth. De Ward was about to reply when de Guiche interrupted him. End of Chapter 81, Recording by John Van Stan Savannah, Georgia Chapter 82 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume 3, Part 1 by Alexander Dumas, translated by William Robson, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Portrait of Madame The discussion was becoming full of bitterness. De Guiche perfectly understood the whole matter, for there was in Bragalon's face a look instinctively hostile. While in that of de Ward there was something like a determination to offend. Without inquiring into the different feelings which actuated his two friends, de Guiche resolved to ward off the blow which he felt was on the point of being dealt by one of them, and perhaps by both. Gentlemen, he said, we must take our leave of each other. I must pay a visit to monsieur. You, de Ward, will accompany me to the Louvre, and you, Raoul, will remain here master of the house, and as all that is done here, as under your advice you will bestow the last glance upon my preparations for departure. Raoul, with the air of one who neither seeks nor fears a quarrel, bowed his head in token of ascent, and seated himself upon a bench in the sun. That is well, said de Guiche. Remain where you are, Raoul, and tell them to show you the two horses I have just purchased. You will give me your opinion, for I only bought them on condition that you ratified the purchase. By the by, I have to beg your pardon for having omitted to inquire after the comp de La Faire. While pronouncing these latter words he closely observed de Ward in order to perceive what the effect the name of Raoul's father would produce upon him. I thank you, answered the young man. The count is very well. A gleam of deep hatred passed into de Ward's eyes. de Guiche, who appeared not to notice the foreboding expression, went up to Raoul, and grasping him by the hand, said, It is agreed then, Bragalon, is it not, that you will rejoin us in the courtyard of the Palais Royale. He then signed to de Ward to follow him, who had been engaged in balancing himself first on one foot, then on the other. We are going, said he. Come, Mr. Malicorn. This name made Raoul's start, for it seemed that he had already heard it pronounced before, but he could not remember on what occasion. While trying to recall it half dreamily, yet half irritated at his conversation with de Ward, the three young men set out on their way toward the Palais Royale, when the sure was residing. Malicorn learned two things. The first, that the young men had something to say to each other, and the second, that he ought not to walk in the same line with them, and therefore he walked behind. Are you mad? said de Guiche to his companion, as soon as they had left the hotel de Gromant. You attack, Mr. d'Artagnan, and that too, before Raoul. Well, said de Ward, what then? What do you mean by what then? Certainly, is there any prohibition against attacking Mr. d'Artagnan? But you know very well that Mr. d'Artagnan was one of those celebrated and terrible four men who were called the musketeers. That they may be, but I do not perceive why on that account, I should be forbidden to hate Mr. d'Artagnan. What cause has he given you? Me? personally, none. Why hate him therefore? Ask my dead father that question. Really? my dear de Ward, you surprise me. Mr. d'Artagnan is not one to leave unsettled any enmity he may have to arrange without completely clearing his account. Your father, I have heard on his side, carried matters with a high hand. Moreover, there are no enemies so bitter that they cannot be washed away by blood, by a good sword thrust, loyally given. Listen to me, my dear de Guiche. This inveterate dislike existed between my father and Mr. d'Artagnan, and when I was quite a child, he acquainted me with the reason for it, and as forming part of my inheritance, I regard it as a particular legacy bestowed upon me. And does his hatred concern Mr. d'Artagnan alone? As for that, Mr. d'Artagnan was so intimately associated with his three friends, that some portion of the full measure of my hatred falls to their lot, and that hatred is of such a nature, whenever the opportunity occurs, they shall have no occasion to complain of their allowance. De Guiche had kept his eyes fixed on to Ward, and shuddered at the bitter manner in which the young man smiled. Something like a presentiment flashed across his mind, he knew that the time had passed away for grand coup entre gentilome, but that the feeling of hatred treasured up in the mind, instead of being diffused abroad, was still hatred all the same. That a smile was sometimes as full of meaning as a threat, and in a word that to the fathers who had hated with their hearts and fought with their arms, would now succeed the sons who would indeed hate with their hearts, but would no longer combat their enemies, safe by means of intrigue or treachery. As therefore it certainly was not Raul whom he could suspect either of intrigue or treachery, it was on Raul's account that De Guiche trembled. However, while these gloomy forebodings cast a shade of anxiety over De Guiche's countenance, De Ward had resumed the entire mastery over himself. At all events, he observed, I have no personal ill will towards Mr. de Bragalon, I do not know him even. In any case, said De Guiche with a certain amount of severity in his tone of voice, do not forget one circumstance, that Raul is my most intimate friend. A remark at which De Ward bowed. The conversation terminated there, although De Guiche tried his utmost to draw out his secret from him, but doubtless De Ward had determined to say nothing further, and he remained impenetrable. De Guiche therefore promised himself a more satisfactory result with Raul. In the meantime, they had reached the Pellée Royale, which was surrounded by a crowd of lookers on. The household belonging to Monsieur awaited his command to mount their horses, in order to form part of the escort of the ambassadors, to whom had been entrusted the care of bringing the young princess to Paris. The brilliant display of horses, arms, and rich liveries afforded some compensation in those times, thanks to the kindly feelings of the people and to the traditions of deep devotion to their sovereigns, for the enormous expenses charged upon the taxes. Mazarine had said, and let them a sing provided they pay. While Louis XIV's remark was, let them look. Cite had replaced a voice. The people could still look, but they were no longer allowed to sing. De Guiche left De Ward and Malicorn at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, while he himself, who shared the favour and good graces of Monsieur, with the Chevalier de la Reine, who always smiled at him most affectionately, though he could not endure him, went straight to the prince's apartments, whom he found engaged in admiring himself in the glass, enrouging his face. In a corner of the cabinet the Chevalier de la Reine was extended full length upon some cushions, having just had his long hair curled, with which he was playing in the same manner a woman would have done. The prince turned round as the count entered and perceiving who it was said, Ah! Is that you, Guiche? Come here and tell me the truth. You know, my lord, it is one of my defects to speak the truth. You will hardly believe, De Guiche, how that wicked Chevalier has annoyed me. The Chevalier shugged his shoulders. Why, he pretends. Continued the prince, that mademoiselle Henrietta is better looking as a woman than I am as a man. Do not forget, my lord, said De Guiche frowning slightly. You require me to speak the truth. Certainly! said the prince tremblingly. Well, I shall tell it to you. Do not be in a hurry, Guiche! exclaimed the prince. You have plenty of time. Look at me attentively and try to recollect, madame. Besides her portrait is here. Look at it! And he held out to him a miniature of the finest possible execution. The Guiche took it and looked at it for a long time attentively. Upon my honour, my lord, this is indeed a most lovely face. But look at me, Count! Look at me! said the prince endeavouring to direct upon himself the attention of the Count, who was completely absorbed in contemplation of the portrait. It is wonderful! murmured Guiche. Really, one would almost imagine you had never seen the young lady before. It is true, my lord, I have seen her, but it was five years ago. There is a great difference between a child twelve years old and a girl of seventeen. Well, what is your opinion? My opinion is that the portrait must be flattering, my lord. Of that, said the prince triumphantly, there can be no doubt. But let us suppose that it is not. What would your opinion be? My lord, that your highness is exceedingly happy to have so charming a bride. Very well, that is your opinion of her, but of me. My opinion, my lord, is that you are too handsome for a man. The chevieted Lorraine burst out laughing. The prince understood how severe toward himself this opinion of the Count Guiche was, and he looked somewhat displeased, saying, My friends are not overindulgent. The Guiche looked at the portrait again, and after lengthened contemplation returned it with apparent unwillingness, saying, Most decidedly, my lord, I should rather prefer to look ten times at your highness than to look at madame once again. It seemed as if the cheviet had detected some mystery in these words, which were incomprehensible to the prince, for he exclaimed, Very well, get married yourself. Monsieur continued painting himself, and when he had finished, looked at the portrait again once more, turned to admire himself in the glass and smiled, and no doubt was satisfied with the comparison. You are very kind to have come, he said to Guiche. I feared you would leave without bidding me adieu. Your highness knows me too well to believe me capable of so great a disrespect. Besides, I suppose you have something to ask from me before leaving Paris. Your highness has indeed guessed correctly, for I have a request to make. Very good. What is it? The cheviet de la Reine immediately displayed the greatest attention, for he regarded every favour conferred upon another as a robbery committed against himself, and as Guiche hesitated the prince said, If it be money, nothing could be more fortunate for I am in funds. The superintendent of finances has sent me five hundred thousand pistoles. I thank you, highness, but it is not an affair of money. What is it then? Tell me. The appointment of a maid of honour. Oh, Guiche, what a protector you have become of young ladies, said the prince. You never speak of anyone else now. The cheviet de la Reine smiled, for he knew very well that nothing displeased the prince more than the show any interest in ladies. My lord, said the comte, It is not I who am directly interested in the lady of whom I have just spoken. I am acting on behalf of one of my friends. Huh, that is different. What is the name of the young lady in whom your friend is interested? Menrezeuil de la Baume, Leblanc de la Valière. She is already made of honour to the dowager princess. Why, she is lame, said the cheviet de la Reine, stretching himself on its cushions. Lame? repeated the prince. And madame to have her constantly before her eyes. Most certainly not. It may be dangerous for her when, in an interesting condition. The cheviet de la Reine burst out laughing. Cheviet? said Guiche. Your conduct is ungenerous. While I am soliciting a favour, you do me all the mischief you can. Forgive me, comte. Said the cheviet de la Reine, somewhat uneasy at the tone in which Guiche had made his remark, but I had no intention of doing so, and I begin to believe that I have mistaken one young lady for another. There is no doubt of it, monsieur, and I do not hesitate to declare that such is the case. Do you attach much importance to it, Guiche? inquired the prince. I do, my lord. Well, you shall have it, but ask me for no more appointments, for there are none to give away. Ha! exclaimed the cheviet. Midday already. That is the hour fixed for the departure. You dismiss me, monsieur. inquired Guiche. Really, count, you treat me very ill today. replied the cheviet. For heaven's sake, count, for heaven's sake, cheviet. said monsieur. Do you not see how you are distressing me? Your Highness's signature. said Guiche. Take a blank appointment from that drawer and give it to me. Guiche handed the prince the document indicated, and at the same time presented him with a pen already dipped in ink. Whereupon the prince signed. Here. He said, returning him the appointment. But I give it on one condition. Name it. That you make friends with the cheviet. Willingly, said Guiche, and he held out his hand to the cheviet with an indifference amounting to contempt. Do you count? said the cheviet, without seeming in any way to have noticed the count's slight. Adieu, and bring us back a princess who will not talk with her own portrait too much. Yes, set off and lose no time. By the by, who accompanies you? Bragalone and De Ward. Both excellent and fearless companions. Too fearless, said the cheviet, endeavour to bring them both back count. A bad heart, bad. murmured to Guiche. He sensed mischief everywhere, and sooner than anything else. In taking leave of the prince, he quitted the apartment. As soon as he reached the vestibule he waved in the air the paper which the prince had signed. Malicorn hurried forward and received it trembling with delight. When, however, he held it in his hand, Guiche observed that he still awaited something further. Patience, monsieur. He said, the cheviet de la Reine was there, and I feared an utter failure if I asked too much at once. Wait until I return. Adieu. Adieu, monsieur le Comte. A thousand thanks. said Malicorn. Send Malicorn to me. By the way, monsieur, is it true that Manuel Zell de la Valière is lame? As he said this a horse drew up behind him, and on turning round he noticed that Bragalon, who had just at that moment entered the courtyard, turned suddenly pale. The poor lover had heard the remark which, however, was not the case with Malicorn, for he was already beyond the reach of the Count's voice. Why is Louise's name spoken of here? said Raoul to himself. Oh, let not the ward who stands smiling yonder even say a word about her in my presence. Now, gentlemen, exclaimed the Comtequiche, prepare to start. At this moment the Prince, who had completed his toilet, appeared at the window and was immediately saluted by the acclamations of all who composed the escort, and ten minutes afterwards banners, scarfs, and feathers were fluttering and waving in the air as the cavalcade galloped away. End of chapter 82, recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. Chapter 83 of the D'Artagnan Romances, volume 3 part 1 by Alexandre de Ma, translated by William Robson, this Librivox recording is in the public domain. Havre This brilliant and animated company, the members of which were inspired by various feelings, arrived at Havre four days after their departure from Paris. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, and no intelligence had yet been received of Madame. They were soon engaged in quest of apartments, but the greatest confusion immediately ensued among the masters, and violent quarrels among their attendants. In the midst of the disorder, the Comtequiche fancied he recognized, Manicamp. It was indeed Manicamp himself, but as Malicorn had taken possession of his very best costume, he had not been able to get any others than a suit of violet velvet trimmed with silver. Guiche recognized him as much by his dresses by his features, for he had very frequently seen Manicamp in his violet suit, which was his last resource. Manicamp presented himself to the Count under an arch of torches, which set in a blaze rather than illuminated the gate by which Havre has entered, and which is situated close by the tower of Francis I. The Count, remarking the woe begone expression of Manicamp's face, could not resist laughing. Well, my poor Manicamp, he exclaimed, how violet you look are you in mourning. Yes, replied Manicamp, I am in mourning. For whom, or for what? For my blue and gold suit, which has disappeared and in the place of which I could find nothing but this, I was even obliged to economize from compulsion in order to get possession of it. Indeed. It is singular that you should be astonished at that, since you leave me without any money. At all events, here you are, and that is the principal thing. By the most horrible roads. Where are you lodging? Lodging? Yes. I am not lodging anywhere. Dagish began to laugh. Well, said he, where do you intend to lodge? In the same place you do. But I don't know myself. What do you mean by saying you don't know? Certainly, how is it likely I should know where I should stay? Have you not retained a hotel? I? Yes, you or the prince? Neither of us has thought of it, havers of considerable size, I suppose, and provided I can get a stable for a dozen horses and a suitable house in a good quarter. Certainly, there are some very excellent houses. Well, then, but not for us. What do you mean by saying not for us? For whom, then? For the English, of course. For the English? Yes, the houses are all taken. By whom? By the Duke of Buckingham. I beg your pardon? Said Gish, whose attention this name had awakened. Yes, by the Duke of Buckingham. His grace was preceded by a courier who arrived here three days ago, and immediately retained all the houses fit for habitation the town possesses. Come, come, Manicamp, let us understand each other. Well, what I have told you is clear enough, it seems to me. But surely Buckingham does not occupy the whole of Havre. He certainly does not occupy it, since he has not yet arrived, but once disembarked he will occupy it. Oh-ho! It is quite clear you are not acquainted with the English. They have a perfect rage for monopolizing everything. That may be, but a man who has the whole of one house is satisfied with it and does not require two. Yes, but two men. Be it so, for two men, two houses, or four or six or ten if you like, but there are a hundred houses at Havre. Yes, and all the hundred are let. Impossible. What an obstinate fellow you are. I tell you Buckingham has hired all the houses surrounding the one which the Queen Dowager of England and the Princess or Daughter will inhabit. He is singular enough indeed, said the ward, caressing his horse's neck. Such is the case, however, Monsieur. You are quite sure of it, Monsieur de Manicamp. And as he put this question, he looked slightly at de Guiche, as though to interrogate him upon the degree of confidence to be placed in his friend's state of mind. During this discussion, the night had closed in, and the torches, pages, attendance, squires, horses, and carriage blocked up the gate and the open place. The torches were reflected in the channel, which the rising tide was gradually filling, while on the other side of the jetty might be noticed groups of curious lookers on, consisting of sailors and townspeople, who seemed anxious to miss nothing of the spectacle. Amidst all this hesitation of purpose, Bragalone, as though a perfect stranger to the scene, remained on his horse somewhat in the rear of Guiche, and watched the rays of light reflected on the water, inhaling with rapture the sea breezes and listening to the waves, which noisily broke upon the shore and on the beach, tossing the spray into the air with a noise that echoed in the distance. But exclaimed Guiche, What is Buckingham's motive for providing such a supply of lodges? Yes, yes, said de Ward. What reason has he? Hey, very excellent one, replied Manicamp. You know what it is, then. I fancy I do. Tell us, then. Bend your head down towards me. What, may it not be spoken except in private? You shall judge of that yourself. Very well, de Guiche bent down. Love, said Manicamp. I do not understand you at all. Say, rather, you cannot understand me yet. Explain yourself. Very well, it is quite certain count, that his royal highness will be the most unfortunate of husbands. What do you mean? The Duke of Buckingham. It is a name of ill omen to the princess of the House of France. And so the Duke is madly in love with madame, so the rumour runs, and will have no one approach her but himself. De Guiche coloured. Thank you, thank you, said he to Manicamp grasping his hand, then recovering himself added, Whatever you do, Manicamp, be careful that this project of Buckingham's is not made known to any Frenchmen here, for, if so, many a sword would be unsheathed in this country that does not fear English steel. But after all, said Manicamp, I have no satisfactory proof given me of the love in question, and it may be no more than an idle tale. No, no, said De Guiche, it must be the truth. And despite his command over himself, he clenched his teeth. Well, said Manicamp, after all, what does it matter to you? What does it matter to me whether the prince is to be what the late king was? Buckingham, the father for the queen, Buckingham, the son for the princess. Manicamp, Manicamp, it is a fact, or at least everybody says so. Silence, cried the Count. But why silence, said De Ward, it is a highly creditable circumstance for the French nation. Are you not of my opinion, Monsieur de Bragolone? To what circumstance do you elude? Inquired de Bragolone with an abstracted air, that the English should render homage to the beauty of our queens and our princesses. Forgive me, but I have not been paying attention to what has passed. We will bludge me by explaining. There is no doubt it was necessary that Buckingham, the father, should come to Paris in order that his Majesty, King Louis XIII, should perceive that his wife was one of the most beautiful women of the French court. And it seems necessary at the present time that Buckingham and the son should consecrate by the devotion of his worship the beauty of a princess who has French blood in her veins. The fact of having inspired a passion on the other side of the channel will henceforth confer a title to beauty on this. Sir? replied de Bragolone. I do not like to hear such matters treated so lightly. Gentlemen like ourselves should be careful guardians of the honour of our queens and our princesses. If we gestate them, what will our servants do? How am I to understand that? said de Ward, whose ears tingled at the remark. In any way you choose, monsieur? replied de Bragolone coldly. Bragolone, Bragolone. murmured de Guiche. Monsieur de Ward exclaimed Manicamp, noticing that the young man had spurred his horse close to the side of Raoul. Gentlemen, gentlemen, said de Guiche. I do not set such an example in public in the street, too. De Ward, you are wrong. Wrong? In what way, may I ask? You are wrong, sir, because you are always speaking ill of someone or something. replied Raoul with undisturbed composure. Be indulgent, Raoul, said de Guiche in an undertone. Pray, do not think of fighting, gentlemen, said Manicamp, before you have rested yourselves, for in that case you will not be able to do much. Come, said de Guiche, forward, gentlemen. And breaking through the horses and attendants, he cleared the way for himself toward the centre of the square, through the crowd, followed by the whole cavalcade. A large gateway looking out upon a courtyard was open. Guiche entered the courtyard, and Bragolone, de Ward, Manicamp, and three or four other gentlemen followed him. A sort of council of war was held, and the means to be employed for saving the dignity of the embassy were deliberated upon. Bragolone was of opinion that the right to priority should be respected. While de Ward suggested that the town should be sacked, this latter proposition appearing to Manicamp rather premature, he proposed instead that they should first rest themselves. This was the wisest thing to do, but unhappily to follow his advice two things were wanting, namely a house and beds. De Guiche reflected for a while, and then said aloud, Let him who loves me follow me. The attendants also inquired a page who had approached the group. Every one! exclaimed the impetuous young man. Manicamp, show us the way to the house destined for her Royal Highness's residence. Without in any way divining the Count's project, his friends followed him accompanied by a crowd of people whose acclamations and delight seemed a happy omen for the success of that project with which they were yet unacquainted. The wind was blowing strongly from the harbour, and moaning in fitful gusts. End of Chapter 83, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. Chapter 84 of the D'Artagnan Romances, Volume III, Part I by Alexander de Ma, translated by William Robson, this Librivox recording is in the public domain. At sea. The following day was somewhat calmer, although the gale still continued. The sun had, however, risen through a bank of orange clouds, tinging with its cheerful rays the crests of the black waves. Watch was impatiently kept from the different lookouts, towards eleven o'clock in the morning a ship, with sails full set, was signalled as in view. Two others followed at the distance of about half a knot. They approached like arrows shot from the bow of a skilful archer, and yet the sea ran so high that their speed was as nothing compared to the rolling of the billows in which the vessels were plunging first in one direction, and then in another. The English fleet was soon recognized by the line of the ships, and by the colour of their penance. The one which had the princess on board, and carried the admiral's flag, preceded the others. The rumour now spread that the princess was arriving. The whole French court ran to the harbour, while the quays and jetties were soon covered with crowds of people. Two hours afterward the other vessels had overtaken the flagship, and the three, not venturing perhaps to enter the narrow entrance of the harbour, cast anchor between Haver and Le Havre. When the manoeuvre had been completed the vessel which bore the admiral saluted France by twelve discharges of cannon, which were returned, discharge for discharge, from Fort Francis I. Immediately afterwards a hundred boats were launched, they were covered with the richest stuffs, and destined for the conveyance of the different members of the French nobility toward the vessels at anchor. But when it was observed that even inside the harbour the boats were tossed to and fro, and that beyond the jetty the waves rose mountains high, dashing upon the shore with a terrible uproar, it will readily be believed that not one of those frail boats would be able to safely reach a fourth part of the distance between the shore and the vessels at anchor. A pilot boat, however, notwithstanding the wind and the sea, was getting ready to leave the harbour, for the purpose of placing itself at the admiral's disposal. Dagish, who had been looking among the different boats for one stronger than the others, which might offer a chance of reaching the English vessels, perceiving the pilot boat getting ready to start, said to Raoul, Do you not think, Raoul, that intelligent and vigorous men as we are ought to be ashamed to retreat before the brute strength of wind and waves? That is precisely the very reflection I was silently making to myself, replied Bragg alone. Shall we get into that boat then and push off? Will you come to ward? Take care, or you will get drowned, said Manacamp. And for no purpose, said Deward, for with the wind in your teeth, as it will be, you will never reach the vessels. You refuse, then? Assuredly I do, I would willingly risk and lose my life in an encounter against men, he said, glancing at Bragg alone. But as to fighting with oars against waves, I have no taste for that. And for myself, said Manacamp, even were I to succeed in reaching the ships, I should not be indifferent to the loss of the only good dress which I have left. Saltwater would spoil it. You then refuse also, exclaimed Geesh. Decidedly I do, I beg you to understand that most distinctly. But, exclaimed Geesh, look, Deward, look, Manacamp, look yonder, the princesses are looking at us from the poop of the Admiral's vessel. An additional reason, my dear fellow, why we should not make ourselves ridiculous by being drowned while they are looking on. Is that your last word, Manacamp? Yes. And then yours, Deward? Yes. Then I go alone. Not so, said Raul, for I shall accompany you. I thought it was understood I should do so. The fact is that Raul, uninfluenced by devotion, measuring the risk they run, saw how imminent the danger was, but he willingly allowed himself to accept a peril, which Deward had declined. The boat was about to set off when Degeesh called to the pilot. Stay, said he. We want two places on your boat. And wrapping five or six pistoles in paper, he threw them from the quay into the boat. It seems you are not afraid of saltwater, young gentleman. We are afraid of nothing, replied Degeesh. Come along, then. The pilot approached the side of the boat and the two young men, one after the other, with equal vivacity, jumped into the boat. Courage, my men, said Degeesh. I have twenty pistoles left in this purse, and as soon as we reach the Admiral's vessel, they shall be yours. The sailors bent themselves to their oars, and the boat bounded over the crest of the waves. The interest taken in this hazardous expedition was universal. The whole population of Hava hurried toward the jetties, and every look was directed toward the little bark. At one moment it flew suspended on the crest of the foaming waves, then suddenly glided downwards toward the bottom of a raging abyss, where it seemed utterly lost. At the expiration of an hour struggling with the waves, they reached the spot where the Admiral's vessel was anchored, and from the side of which two boats had already been dispatched toward their aid. Upon the quarter-deck of the flagship, sheltered by a canopy of velvet and air mean, which was suspended by stout supports, Henrietta the Queen dowager and the young princess, with the Admiral the Duke of Norfolk standing beside them, watched with alarm this slender bark at one moment tossed to the heavens, and the next buried beneath the waves, and against whose dark sail the noble figures of the two French gentlemen stood forth in relief like two luminous apparitions. The crew leaning against the bulwarks and clinging to the shrouds cheered the courage of the two daring young men, the skill of the pilot and the strength of the sailors. They were received at the side of the vessel by a shout of triumph. The Duke of Norfolk, a handsome young man from twenty-six to twenty-eight years of age, advanced to meet them. Deguish and Bragalon lightly mounted a ladder on the starboard side, and conducted by the Duke of Norfolk, who resumed his place near them, they approached to offer their homage to the princesses. Respect and yet more a certain apprehension for which he could not account had hitherto restrained the comte de Guiche from looking at Madame attentively, who, however, had observed him immediately, and had asked her mother, Is not that Monsieur on the boat yonder? Madame Henrietta, who knew Monsieur better than her daughter did, smiled at the mistake her vanity had led her into, and answered, No, it is only Monsieur de Guiche, his favourite. The princess at this reply was constrained to check an instinctive tenderness of feeling, which the courage displayed by the count had awakened. At the very moment the princess had put this question to her mother, de Guiche had at last summoned the courage to raise his eyes toward her, and could compare the original with the portrait he had so lately seen. No sooner had he remarked her pale face, her eyes so full of animation, her beautiful nut-brown hair, her expressive lips and her every gesture which, while betokening royal dissent, seemed to thank and to encourage him at one and the same time that he was, for a moment, so overcome, that had it not been for Raoul whose arm he lent he would have fallen. His friend's amazed look and the encouraging gesture of the queen restored Guiche to his soft possession. In a few words he explained his mission, explained in what way he had become the envoy of his royal highness, and saluted, according to their rank and the reception they gave him, the admiral, and several of the English noblemen who were grouped around the princesses. Raoul was then presented and was most graciously received, the share that the Comte l'affaire had had in the restoration of Charles II was known to all, and more than that, it was the Comte who had been charged with the negotiation of the marriage, by means of which the granddaughter of Henry IV was now returning to France. Raoul spoke English perfectly and constituted himself his friend's interpreter with the young English nobleman who were indifferently acquainted with the French language. At this moment a young man came forward of extremely handsome features, and whose dress and arms were remarkable for their extravagance of material. He approached the princesses who were engaged in conversation with the Duke of Norfolk, and in a voice which ill-concealed his impatience said, It is now time to disembark, your royal highness. The yonker of the princesses rose from her seat at this remark, and was about to take the hand which the young nobleman extended to her, with an eagerness which arose from a variety of motives, when the admiral intervened between them observing. A moment, if you please, my lord. It is not possible for ladies to disembark just now. The sea is too rough. It is probable the wind may abate before sunset, and the landing will not be affected, therefore, until this evening. Allow me to observe, my lord," said Buckingham with an irritation of manner which he did not seek to disguise. You detain these ladies, and you have no right to do so. One of them unhappily now belongs to France, and you perceive that France claims them by the voice of her ambassadors. And at the same moment he indicated Raoul and Guiche whom he saluted, I cannot suppose that these gentlemen intend to expose the lives of their royal highnesses, replied the admiral. These gentlemen, retorted Buckingham, arrived here safely, notwithstanding the wind. Allow me to believe that the danger will not be greater for her royal highnesses when the wind will be in their favour. These envoys have shown how great their courage is," said the admiral. You may have observed that there was a great number of persons on shore who did not venture to accompany them. Moreover, the desire which they had to show their respect with the least possible delay to Madame and her illustrious mother induced them to brave the sea, which is very tempestuous today, even for sailors. These gentlemen, however, whom I recommend as an example for my officers to follow, can hardly be so for these ladies." Madame glanced at the comp de Guiche, and perceived that his face was burning with confusion. This look had escaped Buckingham, who had eyes for nothing but Norfolk, of whom he was evidently very jealous. He seemed anxious to remove the princess from the deck of a vessel where the admiral reigned supreme. In that case, returned Buckingham, I appealed to Madame herself. And I, my lord, reported the admiral, I appealed to my own conscience and to my own sense of responsibility. I have undertaken to convey Madame safe and sound to France, and I shall keep my promise. But, sir, continued Buckingham, my lord, permit me to remind you that I command here. Are you aware what you are saying, my lord? replied Buckingham heartily. Perfectly so. I therefore repeat it. I alone command here. All yield obedience to me, the sea and the winds, the ships and men, too. This remark was made in a dignified and authoritative manner. Raoul observed its effects upon Buckingham, who trembled with anger from head to foot, and leaned against one of the poles of the tent to prevent himself falling. His eyes became suffused with blood, and the hand which he did not need for his support wandered toward the hilt of his sword. My lord, said the queen, permit me to observe that I agree in every particular with the Duke of Norfolk. If the heavens, instead of being clouded as they are at the present moment, were perfectly serene and propitious, we can still afford to bestow a few hours upon the officer, who has conducted us so successfully, and with such extreme attention to the French coast, where he is to take leave of us. Buckingham, instead of replying, seemed to seek counsel from the expression of Madame's face. She, however, half concealed beneath the thick curtains of the velvet and gold which sheltered her, had not listened to the discussion, having been occupied in watching the comp de guiche, who was conversing with Raoul. This was a fresh misfortune for Buckingham, who fancied he perceived in Madame Henrietta's look, a deeper feeling than that of curiosity. He withdrew, almost tottering in his gait, and nearly stumbled against the main mast of the ship. The Duke has not acquired a steady footing yet, said the queen mother in French, and that may possibly be his reason for wishing to find himself on firm land again. The young man overheard this remark. Turned suddenly pale, and letting his hands fall in great discouragement by his side, drew aside, mingling in one size old affection and his new hatreds. The admiral, however, without taking any further notice of the Duke's ill humour, led the princesses into the quarter-deck cabin, where dinner had been served with the magnificence worthy in every respect of his guests. The admiral seated himself at the right hand of the princess, and placed the comp de guiche on her left. This was the place Buckingham usually occupied, and when he entered the cabin, how profound was his unhappiness to see himself banished by etiquette, from the presence of his soffron, to a position inferior to that which by rank he was entitled to. De Guiche, on the other hand, paler still perhaps from happiness, then his rival was from anger, seated himself tremblingly next to the princess, whose silk and robe as it lightly touched him caused a tremor of mingled regret and happiness to pass through his whole frame. The repast finished, Buckingham darted forward to hand Madame Henrietta from the table, but this time it was De Guiche's turn to give the Duke a lesson. Have the goodness, my lord, from this moment, said he, not to interpose between her royal highness and myself. From this moment, indeed, her royal highness belongs to France, and when she deigns to honour me by touching my hand, it is the hand of Monsieur, the brother of the king of France, she touches. And saying this, he presented his hand to Madame Henrietta with such marked deference, and at the same time with a nobleness of mean so intrepid, that a murmur of admiration rose from the English, whilst the groan of despair escaped from Buckingham's lips. Raoul, who loved, comprehended it all. He fixed upon his friend one of those profound looks which a bosom friend or mother can alone extend, either as protector or guardian over the one who is about to stray from the right path. Toward two o'clock in the afternoon the sun shone forth anew, the wind subsided, the sea became smooth as a crystal mirror and the fog, which had shrouded the coast, disappeared like a veil withdrawn from before it. The smiling hills of France appeared in full view, but their numerous white houses rendered more conspicuous by the bright green of the trees or the clear blue sky.