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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 17 at Prostate Health
jet trimmings; a whitecollar, as plain as that of the severest Puritan, set offthe whiteness of his youthful neck; a small dark-coloredmustache scarcely covered his curled, disdainful lip.He spoke to people looking them full in the face withoutaffectation, it is true, but without scruple; so that thebrilliancy of his black eyes became so insupportable, thatmore than one look had sunk beneath his like the weakersword in a single combat.At this time, in which men, all created equal by God, weredivided, thanks to prejudices, into two distinct castes, thegentleman and the commoner, as they are really divided intotwo races, the black and the white, -- at this time, we say,he whose portrait we have just sketched could not fail ofbeing taken for a gentleman, and of the best class. Toascertain this, there was no necessity to consult anythingbut his hands, long, slender, and white, of which everymuscle, every vein, became apparent through the skin at theleast movement, and eloquently spoke of good descent.This gentleman, then, had arrived alone at Cropoles house.He had taken, without hesitation, without reflection even,the principal apartment which the hotelier had pointed outto him with a rapacious aim, very praiseworthy, some willsay, very reprehensible will say others, if they admit thatCropole was a physiognomist and judged people at firstsight.This apartment was that which composed the whole front ofthe ancient triangular house, a large salon, lighted by twowindows on the first stage, a small chamber by the side ofit, and another above it.Now, from the time he had arrived, this gentleman hadscarcely touched any repast that had been served up to himin his chamber. He had spoken but two words to the host, towarn him that a traveler of the name of Parry would arrive,and to desire that, when he did, he should be shown up tohim immediately.He afterwards preserved so profound a silence, that Cropolewas almost offended, so much did he prefer people who weregood company.This gentleman had risen early the morning of the day onwhich this history begins, and had placed himself at thewindow of his salon, seated upon the ledge, and leaning uponthe rail of the balcony, gazing sadly but persistently onboth sides of the street, watching, no doubt, for thearrival of the traveler he had mentioned to the host.In this way he had seen the little cortege of Monsieurreturn from hunting, then had again partaken of the profoundtranquillity of the street, absorbed in his ownexpectations.All at once the movement of the crowd going to the meadows,couriers setting out, washers of pavement, purveyors of theroyal household, gabbling, scampering shopboys, chariots inmotion, hair-dressers on the run, and pages toiling along,this tumult and bustle had surprised him, but without losingany of that impassible and supreme majesty which gives tothe eagle and the lion that serene and contemptuous glanceamidst the hurrahs and shouts of hunters or the curious.Soon the cries of the victims slaughtered in thepoultry-yard, the hasty steps of Madame Cropole up thatlittle wooden staircase, so narrow and so echoing, thebounding pace of Pittrino, who only that morning was smokingat the door with all the phlegm of a Dutchman; all thiscommunicated something like surprise and agitation to thetraveler.As he was rising to make inquiries, the door of his chamberopened. The unknown concluded they were about to introducethe impatiently expected traveler, and made threeprecipitate steps to meet him.But, instead of the person he expected, it was MasterCropole who appeared, and behind him, in the half-darkstaircase, the pleasant face of Madame Cropole, renderedtrivial by curiosity. She only gave one furtive glance atthe handsome gentleman, and disappeared.Cropole advanced, cap in hand, rather bent than bowing,A gesture of the unknown interrogated him, without a wordbeing pronounced."Monsieur," said Cropole, "I come to ask how -- what ought Ito say: your lordship, monsieur le comte, or monsieur lemarquis?""Say monsieur, and speak quickly," replied the unknown, withthat haughty accent which admits of neither discussion norreply."I came, then, to inquire how monsieur had passed the night,and if monsieur intended to keep this apartment?""Yes.""Monsieur, something has happened upon which we could notreckon.""What?""His majesty Louis XIV. will enter our city to-day and willremain here one day, perhaps two."Great astonishment was painted on the countenance of theunknown."The King of France coming to Blois?""He is on the road, monsieur.""Then there
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