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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 62 at Prostate Health
pipes and reeds, as iswritten in a book monseigneur has in his library, which iscalled `Bergeries. The author died about a month ago.""Monsieur Racan, perhaps," said DArtagnan,"Yes, that was his name -- M. Racan. But that is not all: weangle in the little canal, after which we dine, crowned withflowers. That is Wednesday.""Peste!" said DArtagnan, "you dont divide your pleasuresbadly. And Thursday? -- what can be left for poor Thursday?""It is not very unfortunate, monsieur," said Mousqueton,smiling. "Thursday, Olympian pleasures. Ah, monsieur, thatis superb! We get together all monseigneurs young vassals,and we make them throw the disc, wrestle, and run races.Monseigneur cant run now, no more can I; but monseigneurthrows the disc as nobody else can throw it. And when hedoes deal a blow, oh, that proves a misfortune!""How so?""Yes, monsieur, we were obliged to renounce the cestus. Hecracked heads; he broke jaws -- beat in ribs. It wascharming sport; but nobody was willing to play with him.""Then his wrist ---- ""Oh, monsieur, firmer than ever. Monseigneur gets a trifleweaker in his legs, -- he confesses that himself; but hisstrength has all taken refuge in his arms, so that ---- ""So that he can knock down bullocks, as he used formerly.""Monsieur, better than that -- he beats in walls. Lately,after having supped with one of our farmers -- you know howpopular and kind monseigneur is -- after supper as a joke,he struck the wall a blow. The wall crumbled away beneathhis hand, the roof fell in, and three men and an old womanwere stifled.""Good God, Mousqueton! And your master?""Oh, monseigneur, a little skin was rubbed off his head. Webathed the wounds with some water which the monks gave us.But there was nothing the matter with his hand.""Nothing?""No, nothing, monsieur.""Deuce take the Olympic pleasures! They must cost yourmaster too dear, for widows and orphans ---- ""They all had pensions, monsieur; a tenth of monseigneursrevenue was spent in that way.""Then pass on to Friday," said DArtagnan."Friday, noble and warlike pleasures. We hunt, we fence, wedress falcons and break horses. Then, Saturday is the dayfor intellectual pleasures: we adorn our minds; we look atmonseigneurs pictures and statues; we write, even, andtrace plans: and then we fire monseigneurs cannon.""You draw plans, and fire cannon?""Yes, monsieur.""Why, my friend," said DArtagnan, "M. du Vallon, in truth,possesses the most subtle and amiable mind that I know. Butthere is one kind of pleasure you have forgotten, it appearsto me.""What is that, monsieur?" asked Mousqueton, with anxiety."The material pleasures."Mousqueton colored. "What do you mean by that, monsieur?"said he, casting down his eyes."I mean the table -- good wine -- evenings occupied inpassing the bottle.""Ah, monsieur, we dont reckon those pleasures, -- wepractice them every day.""My brave Mousqueton," resumed DArtagnan, "pardon me, but Iwas so absorbed in your charming recital that I haveforgotten the principal object of our conversation, whichwas to learn what M. le Vicaire-General dHerblay could haveto write to your master about.""That is true, monsieur," said Mousqueton; "the pleasureshave misled us. Well, monsieur, this is the whole affair.""I am all attention, Mousqueton.""On Wednesday ---- ""The day of the rustic pleasures?""Yes -- a letter arrived; he received it from my hands. Ihad recognized the writing.""Well?""Monseigneur read it and cried out, `Quick, my horses! myarms!""Oh, good Lord! then it was for some duel?" said DArtagnan."No, monsieur, there were only these words: `Dear Porthos,set out, if you would wish to arrive before the Equinox. Iexpect you.""Mordioux!" said DArtagnan, thoughtfully, "that waspressing, apparently.""I think so; therefore," continued Mousqueton, "monseigneurset out the very same day with his secretary, in order toendeavor to arrive in time.""And did he arrive in time?""I hope so. Monseigneur, who is hasty, as you know,monsieur, repeated incessantly, `Tonno Dieu! What can thismean? The Equinox? Never mind, a fellow must be well mountedto arrive before I do.""And you think Porthos will have arrived first, do you?"asked DArtagnan."I am sure of it. This Equinox, however rich he may be, hascertainly no horses so good as monseigneurs."DArtagnan repressed his inclination to laugh, because thebrevity of Aramiss letter gave rise to reflection. Hefollowed Mousqueton, or rather Mousquetons chariot, to thecastle. He sat down to a sumptuous table, of which they didhim the honors as to a king. But he could draw nothing fromMousqueton,
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