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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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Twenty Years Later 73 at Prostate Health
there in a grand livery,
asked if the Duchess de Chevreuse was visible and if she
could receive the Comte de la Fere?
The servant returned with a message to say, that, though the
duchess had not the honor of knowing Monsieur de la Fere,
she would receive him.
Athos followed the footman, who led him through a long
succession of apartments and paused at length before a
closed door. Athos made a sign to the Vicomte de Bragelonne
to remain where he was.
The footman opened the door and announced Monsieur le Comte
de la Fere.
Madame de Chevreuse, whose name appears so often in our
story "The Three Musketeers," without her actually having
appeared in any scene, was still a beautiful woman. Although
about forty-four or forty-five years old, she might have
passed for thirty-five. She still had her rich fair hair;
her large, animated, intelligent eyes, so often opened by
intrigue, so often closed by the blindness of love. She had
still her nymph-like form, so that when her back was turned
she still was not unlike the girl who had jumped, with Anne
of Austria, over the moat of the Tuileries in 1563. In all
other respects she was the same mad creature who threw over
her amours such an air of originality as to make them
proverbial for eccentricity in her family.
She was in a little boudoir, hung with blue damask, adorned
by red flowers, with a foliage of gold, looking upon a
garden; and reclined upon a sofa, her head supported on the
rich tapestry which covered it. She held a book in her hand
and her arm was supported by a cushion.
At the footmans announcement she raised herself a little
and peeped out, with some curiosity.
Athos appeared.
He was dressed in violet-tinted velvet, trimmed with silk of
the same color. His shoulder-knots were of burnished silver,
his mantle had no gold nor embroidery on it; a simple plume
of violet feathers adorned his hat; his boots were of black
leather, and at his girdle hung that sword with a
magnificent hilt that Porthos had so often admired in the
Rue Feron. Splendid lace adorned the falling collar of his
shirt, and lace fell also over the top of his boots.
In his whole person he bore such an impress of high degree,
that Madame de Chevreuse half rose from her seat when she
saw him and made him a sign to sit down near her.
Athos bowed and obeyed. The footman was withdrawing, but
Athos stopped him by a sign.
"Madame," he said to the duchess, "I have had the boldness
to present myself at your hotel without being known to you;
it has succeeded, since you deign to receive me. I have now
the boldness to ask you for an interview of half an hour."
"I grant it, monsieur," replied Madame de Chevreuse with her
most gracious smile.
"But that is not all, madame. Oh, I am very presuming, I am
aware. The interview for which I ask is of us two alone, and
I very earnestly wish that it may not be interrupted."
"I am not at home to any one," said the Duchess de Chevreuse
to the footman. "You may go."
The footman went out
There ensued a brief silence, during which these two
persons, who at first sight recognized each other so clearly
as of noble race, examined each other without embarrassment
on either side.
The duchess was the first to speak.
"Well, sir, I am waiting with impatience to hear what you
wish to say to me."
"And I, madame," replied Athos, "am looking with
admiration."
"Sir," said Madame de Chevreuse, "you must excuse me, but I
long to know to whom I am talking. You belong to the court,
doubtless, yet I have never seen you at court. Have you, by
any chance, been in the Bastile?"
"No, madame, I have not; but very likely I am on the road to
it."
"Ah! then tell me who you are, and get along with you upon
your journey," replied the duchess, with the gayety which
made her so charming, "for I am sufficiently in bad odor
already, without compromising myself still more."
"Who I am, madame? My name has been mentioned to you -- the
Comte de la Fere; you do not know that name. I once bore
another, which you knew, but you have certainly forgotten
it."
"Tell it me, sir."
"Formerly," said the count, "I was Athos."
Madame de Chevreuse looked astonished. The name was not
wholly forgotten, but mixed up and confused with ancient
recollections.
"Athos?" said she; "wait a moment."
And she placed her hands on her brow,
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