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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Three Musketeers 70 at Prostate Health
man of middle height, of a
haughty, proud mien; with piercing eyes, a large brow, and a thin
face, which was made still longer by a ROYAL (or IMPERIAL, as it
is now called), surmounted by a pair of mustaches. Although this
man was scarcely thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age, hair,
mustaches, and royal, all began to be gray. This man, except a
sword, had all the appearance of a soldier; and his buff boots
still slightly covered with dust, indicated that he had been on
horseback in the course of the day.
This man was Armand Jean Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu; not
such as he is now represented--broken down like an old man,
suffering like a martyr, his body bent, his voice failing, buried
in a large armchair as in an anticipated tomb; no longer living
but by the strength of his genius, and no longer maintaining the
struggle with Europe but by the eternal application of his
thoughts--but such as he really was at this period; that is to
say, an active and gallant cavalier, already weak of body, but
sustained by that moral power which made of him one of the most
extraordinary men that ever lived, preparing, after having
supported the Duc de Nevers in his duchy of Mantua, after having
taken Nimes, Castres, and Uzes, to drive the English from the
Isle of Re and lay siege to La Rochelle.
At first sight, nothing denoted the cardinal; and it was
impossible for those who did not know his face to guess in whose
presence they were.
The poor mercer remained standing at the door, while the eyes of
the personage we have just described were fixed upon him, and
appeared to wish to penetrate even into the depths of the past.
"Is this that Bonacieux?" asked he, after a moment of silence.
"Yes, monseigneur," replied the officer.
"Thats well. Give me those papers, and leave us."
The officer took from the table the papers pointed out, gave them
to him who asked for them, bowed to the ground, and retired.
Bonacieux recognized in these papers his interrogatories of the
Bastille. From time to time the man by the chimney raised his
eyes from the writings, and plunged them like poniards into the
heart of the poor mercer.
At the end of ten minutes of reading and ten seconds of
examination, the cardinal was satisfied.
"That head has never conspired," murmured he, "but it matters
not; we will see."
"You are accused of high treason," said the cardinal, slowly.
"So I have been told already, monseigneur," cried Bonacieux,
giving his interrogator the title he had heard the officer give
him, "but I swear to you that I know nothing about it."
The cardinal repressed a smile.
"You have conspired with your wife, with Madame de Chevreuse, and
with my Lord Duke of Buckingham."
"Indeed, monseigneur," responded the mercer, "I have heard her
pronounce all those names."
"And on what occasion?"
"She said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had drawn the Duke of
Buckingham to Paris to ruin him and to ruin the queen."
"She said that?" cried the cardinal, with violence.
"Yes, monseigneur, but I told her she was wrong to talk about
such things; and that his Eminence was incapable--"
"Hold your tongue! You are stupid," replied the cardinal.
"Thats exactly what my wife said, monseigneur."
"Do you know who carried off your wife?"
"No, monseigneur."
"You have suspicions, nevertheless?"
"Yes, monseigneur; but these suspicions appeared to be
disagreeable to Monsieur the Commissary, and I no longer have
them."
"Your wife has escaped. Did you know that?"
"No, monseigneur. I learned it since I have been in prison, and
that from the conversation of Monsieur the Commissary--an amiable
man."
The cardinal repressed another smile.
"Then you are ignorant of what has become of your wife since her
flight."
"Absolutely, monseigneur; but she has most likely returned to the
Louvre."
"At one oclock this morning she had not returned."
"My God! What can have become of her, then?"
"We shall know, be assured. Nothing is concealed from the
cardinal; the cardinal knows everything."
"In that case, monseigneur, do you believe the cardinal will be
so kind as to tell me what has become of my wife?"
"Perhaps he may; but you must, in the first place, reveal to the
cardinal all you know of your wifes relations with Madame de
Chevreuse."
"But, monseigneur, I know nothing about them; I have never seen
her."
"When you went to fetch your wife from the Louvre, did you always
return directly home?"
"Scarcely ever; she had business to transact with linen drapers,
to whose houses I
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