The Man in the Iron Mask
Athos’s Vision.
When this of Athos had ceased, the comte, almost of having way this natural event, himself and ordered his horse, to to Blois, to open more with either Africa, D’Artagnan, or Aramis. In fact, this from Aramis the Comte de la Fere of the success of the of Belle-Isle. It gave him of the death of Porthos to move the and of Athos to its fibers. Athos to go and pay his friend Porthos a last visit. To this to his in arms, he meant to send to D’Artagnan, to upon him to the painful to Belle-Isle, to in his company that sad to the of the he had so much loved, then to return to his to that which was him to by a road. But had his their master, they saw with preparing for a which might his melancholy; had the comte’s been and to the door, when the father of Raoul his confused, his give way, and he the of going one step further. He ordered himself to be into the sun; they him upon his of where he passed a full hour he his spirits. Nothing be more natural than this after then of the days. Athos took a bouillon, to give him strength, and his in a of the he loved the best—that old Anjou mentioned by Porthos in his will. Then, refreshed, free in mind, he had his again; but only with the of his was he able to climb into the saddle. He did not go a hundred paces; a him again at the of the road.
“This is very strange!” said he to his de chambre, who him.
“Let us stop, monsieur—I you!” the servant; “how you are getting!”
“That will not prevent my my route, now I have once started,” the comte. And he gave his his again. But suddenly, the animal, of the of his master, stopped. A movement, of which Athos was unconscious, had the bit.
“Something,” said Athos, “wills that I should go no further. Support me,” added he, out his arms; “quick! come closer! I my relax—I shall from my horse.”
The had the movement by his master at the moment he the order. He up to him quickly, the in his arms, and as they were not yet from the house for the servants, who had at the door to watch their master’s departure, not to the in the regular of the comte, the called his by and voice, and all to his assistance. Athos had gone but a steps on his return, when he himself again. His to and with it the to go to Blois. He his turn round: but, at the animal’s steps, he again into a of and anguish.
“Well! decidedly,” said he, “it is that I should at home.” His people around him; they him from his horse, and him as as possible into the house. Everything was prepared in his chamber, and they put him to bed.
“You will be sure to remember,” said he, himself to sleep, “that I from Africa this very day.”
“Monsieur will no with that Blaisois’s son is gone on horseback, to an hour over the of Blois,” his de chambre.
“Thank you,” Athos, with his smile.
The asleep, but his than repose. The who him saw times the of on his features. Perhaps Athos was dreaming.
The day passed away. Blaisois’s son returned; the had no news. The the minutes with despair; he when those minutes an hour. The idea that he was him once, and on a of the heart. Everybody in the house had up all of the courier—his hour had long passed. Four times the sent to Blois had his journey, and there was nothing to the address of the comte. Athos that the only once a week. Here, then, was a of eight days to be endured. He the night in this painful persuasion. All that a man, by suffering, can add of to already gloomy, Athos up the early hours of this night. The rose: it the chest, where the fire soon caught, according to the of the physician, who had been from Blois by Blaisois at his last journey. Soon it the head. The physician two bleedings, which it for the time, but left the patient very weak, and without power of action in anything but his brain. And yet this had ceased. It with its last the extremities; it ended by as midnight struck.
The physician, the improvement, returned to Blois, after having ordered some prescriptions, and that the was saved. Then for Athos a strange, state. Free to think, his mind Raoul, that son. His the of Africa in the of Gigelli, where M. de Beaufort must have with his army. A waste of rocks, green in parts by the of the sea, when it the in and tempest. Beyond, the shore, over with these like gravestones, ascended, in of an among mastic-trees and cactus, a of small town, full of smoke, noises, and movements. All of a sudden, from the of this a flame, which succeeded, along the houses, in the entire surface of the town, and by degrees, in its red and angry tears, screams, and arms to Heaven.
There was, for a moment, a pele-mele of to pieces, of broken, of calcined, trees and disappearing. It was a thing that in this chaos, in which Athos arms, in which he cries, sobs, and groans, he did not see one figure. The at a distance, barked, the sea moaned, their escape, over the slope. But not a soldier to apply the match to the of cannon, not a to in the fleet, not a in of the flocks. After the of the village, the of the which it, a and without the co-operation of a single being, the were extinguished, the to subside, then in intensity, and entirely. Night then came over the scene; night dark upon the earth, in the firmament. The large which the African sky and without anything.
A long ensued, which gave, for a moment, to the of Athos; and as he that that which he saw was not terminated, he more the of his on the which his had presented. This was soon for him. A mild moon rose the of the coast, at the of the sea, which appeared to have after the it had sent the of Athos—the moon, we say, its diamonds and upon the and of the hills. The rocks, so many and phantoms, appeared to their to the of by the light of the moon, and Athos that the field, empty the combat, was now with bodies.
An of and his as he the white and of the soldiers of Picardy, with their long and handles, and marked with the fleur-de-lis on the butts. When he saw all the wounds, looking up to the as if to of them the to which they had opened a passage,—when he saw the horses, stiff, their out at one of their mouths, sleeping in the blood around them, their and their manes,—when he saw the white of M. de Beaufort, with his to pieces, in the ranks of the dead, Athos passed a cold hand over his brow, which he was not to burning. He was by this touch that he was present, as a spectator, without delirium’s aid, the day after the upon the of Gigelli by the army of the expedition, which he had the of France and upon the horizon, and of which he had with and the last cannon-shot by the as a of to his country.
Who can paint the with which his followed, like a eye, these of clay-cold soldiers, and them, one after the other, to see if Raoul slept among them? Who can the of with which Athos God, and thanked Him for not having him he with so much among the dead? In fact, in their ranks, stiff, icy, the dead, still with ease, to turn with the Comte de la Fere, to be the by him, his sad review. But yet, he was astonished, while all these bodies, not to the survivors. To such a point did the extend, that this was for him a by the father into Africa, to obtain more exact his son.
Fatigued, therefore, with having and continents, he under one of the a rock, on the top of which the white fleur-de-lised pennon. He looked for a soldier to him to the of M. de Beaufort. Then, while his was over the plain, on all sides, he saw a white appear the myrtles. This was in the of an officer; it in its hand a sword; it slowly Athos, who, stopping and his upon it, neither spoke moved, but to open his arms, in this officer he had already Raoul. The to a cry, but it was in his throat. Raoul, with a gesture, him to be silent, his on his and by degrees, without Athos being able to see his move. The comte, still than Raoul, his son, and bushes, and ditches, Raoul not appearing to touch the earth, no to the of his march. The comte, the of the path fatigued, soon stopped, exhausted. Raoul still to him to him. The father, to love strength, a last effort, and the after the man, who him by and by smile.
At length he the of the hill, and saw, out in black, upon the by the moon, the of Raoul. Athos his hand to closer to his son upon the plateau, and the also out his; but suddenly, as if the man had been away in his own despite, still retreating, he left the earth, and Athos saw the clear sky the of his child and the ground of the hill. Raoul rose into the void, smiling, still calling with gesture:—he heaven. Athos a of and terror. He looked again. He saw a destroyed, and all those white of the army, like so many atoms. And, then, his head, he saw the of his son still him to climb the void.
