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De Guiche uttered a deep sigh. "Nay," continued Bragelonne, "you distress me; since your return here, you have a thousand times, and in a thousand different ways, confessed your love for her; and yet, had you not said one word, your return alone would have been a terrible indiscretion.
"Oh! mademoiselle, why have I not a devoted sister, or a true friend, such as yourself?" "You have friends, Monsieur de Guiche, and the Vicomte de Bragelonne, of whom you spoke just now, is, I believe, one of the most devoted." "Yes, yes, you are right, he is one of my best friends. Farewell, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, farewell." And he fled, like one possessed, along the banks of the lake.
It was this early affair with a neighbor's son which gave Dumas some historic foundation for his captivating and pathetic story of the Vicomte de Bragelonne. Whether or not the young lover wore his heart upon his sleeve to the end of his days, it is quite evident that M. de Bragelongne was speedily forgotten by Louise amid the pleasures and distractions of the gayest court in Europe.
Because my face is the mirror of my heart, the outer surface changed to match the mind within." "You are consoled, then?" said Montalais, sharply. "No, I shall never be consoled." "I don't understand you, M. de Bragelonne." "I care but little for that. I do not quite understand myself." "You have not even tried to speak to Louise?" "Who!
"You know the contents of this letter, no doubt?" said Gaston to Raoul. "Yes, monseigneur; M. le Prince at first gave me the message verbally, but upon reflection his highness took up his pen." "It is beautiful writing," said Madame, "but I cannot read it." "Will you read it to Madame, M. de Bragelonne?" said the duke. "Yes, read it, if you please, monsieur."
Mary Grafton shrugged her shoulders with seeming indifference. "Well, well, I will ask Bragelonne about it," said Stewart, laughing; "let us go and find him at once." "What for?" "I wish to speak to him." "Not yet, one word before you do: come, come, you who know so many of the king's secrets, tell me why M. de Bragelonne is in England?"
And as Madame had nothing to do, she sat down to begin a letter to her brother, the postscript of which was a summons for Bragelonne to return.
"In that case," said the guard, "I will go and seek the maitre d'hotel myself." The young man, in the meantime, dismounted; and whilst the others were making their remarks upon the fine horse the cavalier rode, the soldier returned. "Your pardon, young gentleman; but your name, if you please?" "The Vicomte de Bragelonne, on the part of his highness M. le Prince de Conde."
"Sire, you sent M. de Bragelonne to London either before you were Mademoiselle de la Valliere's lover, or since you have become so." The king, irritated beyond measure, especially because he felt that he was being mastered, endeavored to dismiss Athos by a gesture.
Letters of nobility, it is true, are purchasable; but that is a sufficient misfortune without the nobles themselves laughing at it." "Upon my word, De Guiche, you're quite a Puritan, as the English say." At this moment the Vicomte de Bragelonne was announced by one of the servants in the courtyard, in precisely the same manner as he would have done in a room. "Come here, my dear Raoul.
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