Part 40 (1/2)
”It is I,” said Athos, ”and what is the name of the person?”
”Gri pale ”Back already! What can have happened, then, to Bragelonne?”
”Let hinan; ”let him come up”
But Gri on the last step; so springing into the roo closed, the four friends waited in expectation Griitation, his pallor, the shich covered his face, the dust which soiled his clothes, all indicated that he was the er of some important and terrible news
”Your honors,” said he, ”that woress had a little one, the tiger has roused hilanced around at his friends with a melancholy s on the wall; Aranan arose
”What do you mean, Griland, that he is in France, on his road to Paris, if he be not here already”
”The devil he is!” said Porthos ”Are you sure of it?”
”Certain,” replied Grimaud
This announcement was received in silence Grimaud was so breathless, so exhausted, that he had fallen back upon a chair Athos filled a beaker with chaave it to hi that he lives, that he comes to Paris; we have seen lancing affectionately at his sword, still hanging on the wall; ”we can wait for him; let him come”
”Moreover, he is but a child,” said Aramis
Grimaud rose
”A child!” he exclaiuised as a monk he discovered the whole history in confession fro confessed hiave hier into his heart See, it is on fire yet with his hot blood, for it is not thirty hours since it was drawn froer on the table
D'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis rose and in one spontaneous motion rushed to their swords Athos alone rehtful
”And you say he is dressed as a ustine ht; thin, pale, with light blue eyes and tawny flaxen hair”
”And he did not see Raoul?” asked Athos
”Yes, on the contrary, they met, and it was the viscount hi , went and unhooked his sword
”Heigh, sir,” said D'Artagnan, trying to laugh, ”do you knoe look verywomen! How is it that we, four in to tremble at the mention of a child?”
”It is true,” said Athos, ”but this child comes in the name of Heaven”
And very soon they left the inn
36 A Letter from Charles the First
The reader must now cross the Seine with us and follow us to the door of the Carmelite Convent in the Rue Saint Jacques It is eleven o'clock in theCharles I Leaving the church, a woirl dressed in black, the one as aand the other as an orphan, have re-entered their cell
The woman kneels on a prie-dieu of painted wood and at a short distance fro
The woed her The young girl is lovely and her tears only ee, the girl about fourteen
”Oh, God!” prayed the kneeling suppliant, ”protect uard my son, and take irl, ”leave me my mother!”
”Your mother can be of no use to you in this world, Henrietta,” said the lady, turning around ”Your er either throne or husband; she has neither son, money nor friends; the whole world, my poor child, has abandoned your hter's arirl
”Ah! 'tis an unfortunate year for kings,” said the mother ”And no one thinks of us in this country, for eachas your brother ith er send us news of hied my last jewels, sold your clothes and my own to pay his servants, who refused to accompany him unless I made this sacrifice We are now reduced to live at the expense of these daughters of Heaven; we are the poor, succored by God”
”But why not address yourself to your sister, the queen?” asked the girl
”Alas! the queen, ns in her name One day you will be able to understand how all this is”
”Well, then, to the king, your nephew Shall I speak to him? You kno much he loves , and you know Laporte has told us twenty ti”
”Then let us pray to Heaven,” said the girl
The torand-daughter of Henry IV, the wife and daughter of Charles I
They had just finished their double prayer, when a nun softly tapped at the door of the cell
”Enter, my sister,” said the queen
”I trust your majesty will pardon this intrusion on her land and waits in the parlor, de a letter to your , perhaps News from your father, do you hear, Henrietta? And the name of this lord?”