The Man in the Iron Mask
Preparations for Departure.
Athos no more time in this resolution. He gave all his attention to preparing, the two days the had him, the proper for Raoul. This labor Grimaud, who himself to it with the good-will and we know he possessed. Athos gave this orders to take the to Paris when the should be ready; and, not to himself to the of the waiting, or Raoul, so that the should his absence, he himself, the day after the visit of M. de Beaufort, set off for Paris with his son.
For the man it was an easily to be understood, thus to return to Paris all the people who had and loved him. Every a to him who had so much; to him who had loved so much, some of his love. Raoul, on Paris, as if he were dying. Once in Paris, he no longer. When he Guiche’s residence, he was that Guiche was with Monsieur. Raoul took the road to the Luxembourg, and when arrived, without that he was going to the place where La Valliere had lived, he so much music and so many perfumes, he so much laughter, and saw so many dancing shadows, that if it had not been for a woman, who him so and a doorway, he would have there a minutes, and then would have gone away, to return. But, as we have said, in the ante-chamber he had stopped, for the of not mixing himself with all those happy beings he were moving around him in the salons. And as one of Monsieur’s servants, him, had asked him if he to see Monsieur or Madame, Raoul had answered him, but had upon a bench near the doorway, looking at a clock, which had stopped for nearly an hour. The had passed on, and another, with him, had come up, and Raoul he should M. de Guiche of his being there. This name did not the of Raoul. The on to relate that De Guiche had just a new game of lottery, and was teaching it to the ladies. Raoul, opening his large eyes, like the man in Theophrastus, no answer, but his two shades. With his down, his relaxed, his mouth open for the of his sighs, Raoul remained, thus forgotten, in the ante-chamber, when all at once a lady’s passed, against the doors of a salon, which opened on the gallery. A lady, young, pretty, and gay, an officer of the household, entered by that way, and herself with much vivacity. The officer in but sentences; it was a little love than a of courtiers, and was by a on the of the lady. Suddenly, on Raoul, the lady silent, and pushing away the officer:
“Make your escape, Malicorne,” said she; “I did not think there was any one here. I shall you, if they have either or us!”
Malicorne away. The lady Raoul, and her over him as he lay:
“Monsieur is a man,” said she, “and no doubt—”
She here herself by a cry. “Raoul!” said she, blushing.
“Mademoiselle de Montalais!” said Raoul, than death.
He rose unsteadily, and to make his way across the of the floor; but she had that and grief; she that in the of Raoul there was an of herself. A woman, vigilant, she did not think she ought to let the opportunity of making good her justification; but Raoul, though stopped by her in the middle of the gallery, did not to without a combat. He took it up in a so cold and embarrassed, that if they had been thus surprised, the whole would have no about the of Mademoiselle de Montalais.
“Ah! monsieur,” said she with disdain, “what you are doing is very of a gentleman. My me to speak to you; you me by a almost uncivil; you are wrong, monsieur; and you your friends with enemies. Farewell!”
Raoul had to speak of Louise, to look at those who might have Louise; he was going into another world, that he might meet with anything Louise had seen, or touched. But after the of his pride, after having had a of Montalais, the of Louise—Montalais, who him of the of Blois and the of youth—all his away.
“Pardon me, mademoiselle; it enters not, it cannot enter into my to be uncivil.”
“Do you wish to speak to me?” said she, with the of days. “Well! come else; for we may be surprised.”
“Oh!” said he.
She looked at the clock, doubtingly, then, having reflected:
“In my apartment,” said she, “we shall have an hour to ourselves.” And taking her course, than a fairy, she ran up to her chamber, by Raoul. Shutting the door, and in the hands of her the she had upon her arm:
“You were M. de Guiche, were you not?” said she to Raoul.
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
“I will go and ask him to come up here, presently, after I have spoken to you.”
“Do so, mademoiselle.”
“Are you angry with me?”
Raoul looked at her for a moment, then, his eyes, “Yes,” said he.
“You think I was in the plot which about the rupture, do you not?”
“Rupture!” said he, with bitterness. “Oh! mademoiselle, there can be no where there has been no love.”
“You are in error,” Montalais; “Louise did love you.”
Raoul started.
“Not with love, I know; but she liked you, and you ought to have married her you set out for London.”
Raoul into a laugh, which Montalais shudder.
“You tell me that very much at your ease, mademoiselle. Do people they like? You that the king then for himself as his her of we are speaking.”
“Listen,” said the woman, pressing the hands of Raoul in her own, “you were in every way; a man of your age ought to a woman of hers alone.”
“There is no longer any in the world, then,” said Raoul.
“No, vicomte,” said Montalais, quietly. “Nevertheless, let me tell you that, if, of Louise and philosophically, you had to her to love—”
“Enough, I pray you, mademoiselle,” said Raoul. “I as though you are all, of sexes, of a different age from me. You can laugh, and you can agreeably. I, mademoiselle, I loved Mademoiselle de—” Raoul not her name,—“I loved her well! I put my in her—now I am by her no longer.”
“Oh, vicomte!” said Montalais, pointing to his in a looking-glass.
“I know what you mean, mademoiselle; I am much altered, am I not? Well! Do you know why? Because my is the of my heart, the surface to match the mind within.”
“You are consoled, then?” said Montalais, sharply.
“No, I shall be consoled.”
“I don’t you, M. de Bragelonne.”
“I but little for that. I do not myself.”
“You have not to speak to Louise?”
“Who! I?” the man, with fire; “I!—Why do you not me to her? Perhaps the king would now.” And he rose from his chair full of anger.
“I see,” said Montalais, “that you are not cured, and that Louise has one enemy the more.”
“One enemy the more!”
“Yes; are but little at the of France.”
“Oh! while she has her lover to protect her, is not that enough? She has him of such a quality that her cannot against her.” But, stopping all at once, “And then she has you for a friend, mademoiselle,” added he, with a of which did not off the cuirass.
“Who! I?—Oh, no! I am no longer one of those Mademoiselle de la Valliere to look upon; but—”
This but, so big with and with storm; this but, which the of Raoul beat, such did it for her he loved so dearly; this terrible but, so in a woman like Montalais, was by a loud noise by the speakers from the the wainscoting. Montalais to listen, and Raoul was already rising, when a lady entered the room by the door, which she closed after her.
“Madame!” Raoul, on the sister-in-law of the king.
“Stupid wretch!” Montalais, herself, but too late, the princess, “I have been in an hour!” She had, however, time to the princess, who was walking Raoul.
“M. de Bragelonne, Madame,” and at these the back, a in her turn.
“Your highness,” said Montalais, with volubility, “is to think of this lottery, and—”
The to countenance. Raoul his departure, without all, but he that he was in the way. Madame was preparing a word of to herself, when a opened in of the alcove, and M. de Guiche issued, all radiant, also from that closet. The of the four, we must admit, was still Raoul. The princess, however, was near fainting, and was to upon the of the for support. No one to support her. This minutes of terrible suspense. But Raoul it. He up to the count, his tremble, and taking his hand, “Dear count,” said he, “tell Madame I am too not to pardon; tell her also that I have loved in the of my life, and that the of the that has been on me me all other that may be around me. This is why, mademoiselle,” said he, to Montalais, “I would the of the visits of my friend to your apartment. Obtain from Madame—from Madame, who is so and so generous,—obtain her for you she has just also. You are free, love each other, be happy!”
The for a moment a that cannot be described; it was to her, the which Raoul had exhibited, to herself at the of one who had such an indiscretion. It was to her to accept the offered by this deception. Agitated, nervous, she against the of these two troubles. Raoul her position, and came once more to her aid. Bending his her: “Madame!” said he, in a low voice, “in two days I shall be from Paris; in a I shall be from France, where I shall be again.”
“Are you going away, then?” said she, with great delight.
“With M. de Beaufort.”
“Into Africa!” De Guiche, in his turn. “You, Raoul—oh! my friend—into Africa, where dies!”
And everything, that that itself the more than his presence, “Ingrate!” said he, “and you have not me!” And he him; which time Montalais had away Madame, and herself.
Raoul passed his hand over his brow, and said, with a smile, “I have been dreaming!” Then to Guiche, who by him, “My friend,” said he, “I nothing from you, who are the elected of my heart. I am going to death in country; your will not in my more than a year.”
“Oh, Raoul! a man!”
“Do you know what is my thought, count? This is it—I shall live more vividly, being the earth, than I have for this month past. We are Christians, my friend, and if such were to continue, I would not be for the safety of my soul.”
De Guiche was to objections.
“Not one word more on my account,” said Raoul; “but to you, dear friend; what I am going to say to you is of much importance.”
“What is that?”
“Without you much more than I do, you love.”
“Oh!”
“It is a so sweet to me to be able to speak to you thus! Well, then, De Guiche, of Montalais.”
“What! of that friend?”
“She was the friend of—her you know of. She her by pride.”
“You are mistaken.”
“And now, when she has her, she would from her the only thing that that woman in my eyes.”
“What is that?”
“Her love.”
“What do you by that?”
“I that there is a plot against her who is the of the king—a plot in the very house of Madame.”
“Can you think so?”
“I am of it.”
“By Montalais?”
“Take her as the least of the I for—the other!”
“Explain clearly, my friend; and if I can you—”
“In two words. Madame has been long of the king.”
“I know she has—”
“Oh! nothing—you are beloved—you are beloved, count; do you the value of these three words? They that you can your head, that you can sleep tranquilly, that you can thank God every minute of you life. You are beloved; that that you may everything, the of a friend who to your happiness. You are beloved, De Guiche, you are beloved! You do not those nights, those nights without end, which, with and heart, others pass through who are to die. You will live long, if you act like the who, by bit, by crumb, and up diamonds and gold. You are beloved!—allow me to tell you what you must do that you may be forever.”
De Guiche for some time this man, with despair, till there passed through his something like at his own happiness. Raoul his excitement, to assume the voice and of an man.
“They will make her, name I should wish still to be able to pronounce—they will make her suffer. Swear to me that you will not second them in anything—but that you will her when possible, as I would have done myself.”
“I I will,” De Guiche.
“And,” Raoul, “some day, when you shall have her a great service—some day when she shall thank you, promise me to say these to her—‘I have done you this kindness, madame, at the warm of M. de Bragelonne, you so injured.’”
“I I will,” De Guiche.
“That is all. Adieu! I set out to-morrow, or the day after, for Toulon. If you have a hours to spare, give them to me.”
“All! all!” the man.
“Thank you!”
“And what are you going to do now?”
“I am going to meet M. le at Planchet’s residence, where we to M. d’Artagnan.”
“M. d’Artagnan?”
“Yes, I wish to him my departure. He is a man, who loves me dearly. Farewell, my friend; you are expected, no doubt; you will me, when you wish, at the of the comte. Farewell!”
The two men embraced. Those who to see them thus, would not have to say, pointing to Raoul, “That is the happy man!”
