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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 804 at Prostate Health
"I have finished," replied
he to the messenger; "the city will have surrendered in a quarter of an
hour." He then resumed his reading:
"The _coffret_, Monsieur dArtagnan, is my own present. You will not
be sorry to see that while you warriors are drawing the sword to
defend the king, I am animating the pacific arts to ornament the
recompenses worthy of you. I commend myself to your friendship,
Monsieur le Maréchal, and beg you to believe in all
mine.--COLBERT."
DArtagnan, intoxicated with joy, made a sign to the messenger, who
approached, with his _coffret_ in his hands. But at the moment the
maréchal was going to look at it a loud explosion resounded from the
ramparts, and called his attention toward the city. "It is strange,"
said DArtagnan, "that I dont yet see the kings flag upon the walls,
or hear the drums beat the _chamade_." He launched three hundred fresh
men, under a high-spirited officer, and ordered another breach to be
beaten. Then, being more tranquil, he turned toward the _coffret_, which
Colberts envoy held out to him.
It was his treasure--he had won it.
DArtagnan was holding out his hand to open the _coffret_, when a ball
from the city crushed the _coffret_ in the arms of the officer, struck
DArtagnan full in the chest, and knocked him down upon a sloping heap
of earth, while the fleur-de-lised bâton, escaping from the broken sides
of the box, came rolling under the powerless hand of the maréchal.
DArtagnan endeavored to raise himself up. It was thought he had been
knocked down without being wounded. A terrible cry broke from the group
of his terrified officers: the maréchal was covered with blood; the
paleness of death ascended slowly to his noble countenance. Leaning upon
the arms which were held out on all sides to receive him, he was able
once more to turn his eyes toward the place, and to distinguish the
white flag at the crest of the principal bastion: his ears, already deaf
to the sounds of life, caught feebly the rolling of the drum which
announced the victory. Then, clasping in his nerveless hand the bâton,
ornamented with its fleurs-de-lis, he cast down upon it his eyes, which
had no longer the power of looking upward toward heaven, and fell back,
murmuring these strange words, which appeared to the soldiers cabalistic
words--words which had formerly represented so many things upon earth,
and which none but the dying man longer comprehended:
"Athos--Porthos, farewell till we meet again! Aramis, adieu
forever!"
Of the four valiant men whose history we have related, there now no
longer remained but one single body: God had resumed the souls.
END OF "THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE."
The Vicomte De Bragelonne page 803 |
