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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 4 at Prostate Health
never failsto say: `Could one believe it possible that Mary de Medicishould have escaped from that window -- forty-seven feethigh? The mother of two princes and three princesses! Ifyou call that relaxation, Louise, all I ask is to bepunished every day; particularly when my punishment is toremain with you and write such interesting letters as wewrite!""Montalais! Montalais! there are duties to be performed.""You talk of them very much at your ease, dear child! --you, who are left quite free amidst this tedious court. Youare the only person that reaps the advantages of themwithout incurring the trouble, -- you, who are really moreone of Madames maids of honor than I am, because Madamemakes her affection for your father-in-law glance off uponyou; so that you enter this dull house as the birds fly intoyonder court, inhaling the air, pecking the flowers, pickingup the grain, without having the least service to perform,or the least annoyance to undergo. And you talk to me ofduties to be performed! In sooth, my pretty idler, what areyour own proper duties, unless to write to the handsomeRaoul? And even that you dont do; so that it looks to me asif you likewise were rather negligent of your duties!"Louise assumed a serious air, leant her chin upon her hand,and, in a tone full of candid remonstrance, "And do youreproach me with my good fortune?" said she. "Can you havethe heart to do it? You have a future; you belong to thecourt; the king, if he should marry, will require Monsieurto be near his person; you will see splendid fetes; you willsee the king, who they say is so handsome, so agreeable!""Ay, and still more, I shall see Raoul, who attends upon M.le Prince," added Montalais, maliciously."Poor Raoul!" sighed Louise."Now is the time to write to him, my pretty dear! Come,begin again, with that famous `Monsieur Raoul which figuresat the top of the poor torn sheet."She then held the pen toward her, and with a charming smileencouraged her hand, which quickly traced the words shenamed."What next?" asked the younger of the two girls."Why, now write what you think, Louise," replied Montalais."Are you quite sure I think of anything?""You think of somebody, and that amounts to the same thing,or rather even more.""Do you think so, Montalais?""Louise, Louise, your blue eyes are as deep as the sea I sawat Boulogne last year! No, no, I mistake -- the sea isperfidious: your eyes are as deep as the azure yonder --look! -- over our heads!""Well, since you can read so well in my eyes, tell me what Iam thinking about, Montalais.""In the first place, you dont think Monsieur Raoul; youthink My dear Raoul.""Oh! ---- ""Never blush for such a trifle as that! `My dear Raoul, wewill say -- `You implore me to write to you at Paris, whereyou are detained by your attendance on M. le Prince. As youmust be very dull there, to seek for amusement in theremembrance of a provinciale ---- "Louise rose up suddenly. "No, Montalais," said she, with asmile; "I dont think a word of that. Look, this is what Ithink;" and she seized the pen boldly and traced, with afirm hand, the following words: --"I should have been very unhappy if your entreaties toobtain a remembrance of me had been less warm. Everythinghere reminds me of our early days, which so quickly passedaway, which so delightfully flew by, that no others willever replace the charm of them in my heart."Montalais, who watched the flying pen, and read, the wrongway upwards, as fast as her friend wrote, here interruptedby clapping her hands. "Capital!" cried she; "there isfrankness -- there is heart -- there is style! Show theseParisians, my dear, that Blois is the city for finelanguage!""He knows very well that Blois was a Paradise to me,"replied the girl."That is exactly what you mean to say; and you speak like anangel.""I will finish, Montalais," and she continued as follows:"You often think of me, you say, Monsieur Raoul: I thankyou; but that does not surprise me, when I recollect howoften our hearts have beaten close to each other.""Oh! oh!" said Montalais. "Beware; my lamb! You arescattering your wool, and there are wolves about."Louise was about to reply, when the gallop of
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