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Books
The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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Twenty Years Later 80 at Prostate Health
and yellow -- the
true type of a duenna or a devotee.
Raoul resolved not to quit the room without having spoken to
the beautiful girl with the soft eyes, who by a strange
fancy, although she bore no resemblance, reminded him of his
poor little Louise, whom he had left in the Chateau de la
Valliere and whom, in the midst of all the party, he had
never for one moment quite forgotten. Meantime Aramis had
drawn near to the coadjutor, who, smiling all the while,
contrived to drop some words into his ear. Aramis,
notwithstanding his self-control, could not refrain from a
slight movement of surprise.
"Laugh, then," said Monsieur de Retz; "they are looking at
us." And leaving Aramis he went to talk with Madame de
Chevreuse, who was in the midst of a large group.
Aramis affected a laugh, to divert the attention of certain
curious listeners, and perceiving that Athos had betaken
himself to the embrasure of a window and remained there, he
proceeded to join him, throwing out a few words carelessly
as he moved through the room.
As soon as the two friends met they began a conversation
which was emphasized by frequent gesticulation.
Raoul then approached them as Athos had directed him to do.
"Tis a rondeau by Monsieur Voiture that monsieur labbe is
repeating to me." said Athos in a loud voice, "and I confess
I think it incomparable."
Raoul stayed only a few minutes near them and then mingled
with the group round Madame de Chevreuse.
"Well, then?" asked Athos, in a low tone.
"It is to be to-morrow," said Aramis hastily.
"At what time?"
"Six oclock."
"Where?"
"At Saint Mande."
"Who told you?"
"The Count de Rochefort."
Some one drew near.
"And then philosophic ideas are wholly wanting in Voitures
works, but I am of the same opinion as the coadjutor -- he
is a poet, a true poet." Aramis spoke so as to be heard by
everybody.
"And I, too," murmured the young lady with the velvet eyes.
"I have the misfortune also to admire his poetry
exceedingly."
"Monsieur Scarron, do me the honor," said Raoul, blushing,
"to tell me the name of that young lady whose opinion seems
so different from that of others of the company."
"Ah! my young vicomte," replied Scarron, "I suppose you wish
to propose to her an alliance offensive and defensive."
Raoul blushed again.
"You asked the name of that young lady. She is called the
fair Indian."
"Excuse me, sir," returned Raoul, blushing still more
deeply, "I know no more than I did before. Alas! I am from
the country."
"Which means that you know very little about the nonsense
which here flows down our streets. So much the better, young
man! so much the better! Dont try to understand it -- you
will only lose your time."
"You forgive me, then, sir," said Raoul, "and you will deign
to tell me who is the person that you call the young
Indian?"
"Certainly; one of the most charming persons that lives --
Mademoiselle Frances dAubigne."
"Does she belong to the family of the celebrated Agrippa,
the friend of Henry IV.?"
"His granddaughter. She comes from Martinique, so I call her
the beautiful Indian."
Raoul looked surprised and his eyes met those of the young
lady, who smiled.
The company went on speaking of the poet Voiture.
"Monsieur," said Mademoiselle dAubigne to Scarron, as if
she wished to join in the conversation he was engaged in
with Raoul, "do you not admire Monsieur Voitures friends?
Listen how they pull him to pieces even whilst they praise
him; one takes away from him all claim to good sense,
another robs him of his poetry, a third of his originality,
another of his humor, another of his independence of
character, a sixth -- but, good heavens! what will they
leave him? as Mademoiselle de Scudery remarks."
Scarron and Raoul laughed. The fair Indian, astonished at
the sensation her observation produced, looked down and
resumed her air of naivete.
Athos, still within the inclosure of the window, watched
this scene with a smile of disdain on his lips.
"Tell the Comte de la Fere to come to me," said Madame de
Chevreuse, "I want to speak to him."
"And I," said the coadjutor, "want it to be thought that I
do not speak to him. I admire, I love him -- for I know his
former adventures -- but I shall not speak to him until the
day after to-morrow."
"And why day after to-morrow?" asked Madame de Chevreuse.
"You will know that to-morrow evening," said the coadjutor,
smiling.
"Really, my dear Gondy," said the duchess, "you remind one
of the Apocalypse. Monsieur dHerblay," she added, turning
toward Aramis, "will you
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