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Updated: May 13, 2025
But an aged prelate of the far South judged the new priest differently, he had sounded the heart of the man who, at the age of thirty, had quietly renounced a flattering, admiring world; and his dying prayer to Richelieu was that Godeau should succeed him in the See of Vence.
The maid then saw herself forced to explain what it was, which she did with a rather disconcerted air, not being at all sure how the young lady would take the matter. Mademoiselle Godeau listened without moving, then opened the letter, and cast only a glance at it; she at once asked for a sheet of paper, and nonchalantly wrote these few words: "No, sir, I assure you I am not proud.
They are desirous that you should drink to their health in their favorite wine. I have done this, and am, monsieur, with great respect, Your very humble and obedient servant, Godeau, Purveyor of the Musketeers "That's all well!" cried d'Artagnan. "They think of me in their pleasures, as I thought of them in my troubles.
Sit down, sir, I tell you, and listen to me." Monsieur Godeau had just made a very wise reflection, which was that it is never agreeable to have it said that a man, whoever he may be, threw himself into the water on leaving your house.
At the beginning of this speech, Monsieur Godeau had supposed that the young man came to borrow money, and so he prudently threw his handkerchief over the bags that were lying around him, preparing in advance a refusal, and a polite one, for he always felt some good-will toward the father of Croisilles.
The vessel had been wrecked on the coast of France, on the very night following its departure. The crew had barely escaped, but all the cargo was lost. Mademoiselle Godeau, at this news, no longer remembered that Croisilles had made to her an avowal of his poverty; she was as heartbroken as though a million had been at stake.
"My faith! never mind where it comes from," said Porthos, "let us taste it, and if it is good, let us drink it." "No," said Athos; "don't let us drink wine which comes from an unknown source." "You are right, Athos," said d'Artagnan. "Did none of you charge your purveyor, Godeau, to send me some wine?" "No! And yet you say he has sent you some as from us?"
Left alone with Croisilles, Monsieur Godeau coughed, rose, then dropped again upon the cushions, and, trying to assume a paternal air, delivered himself to the following effect: "My boy," said he, "I am willing to believe that you are not poking fun at me, but you have really lost your head. I not only excuse this proceeding, but I consent not to punish you for it.
"Not exactly, it is the wine that was sent by your order." "On our account?" said the three Musketeers. "Did you send this wine, Aramis?" said Athos. "No; and you, Porthos?" "No; and you, Athos?" "No!" "If it was not you, it was your purveyor," said d'Artagnan. "Our purveyor!" "Yes, your purveyor, Godeau the purveyor of the Musketeers."
Never had Croisilles seen her so beautiful. Having found means, between the acts, to escape from the crush, he hurried off to look at her from the passage leading to her box, and, strange to say, scarcely had he reached it, when Mademoiselle Godeau, who had not stirred for the last hour, turned round.
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