List Of Contents | Contents of The Man in the Iron Mask, by Dumas, Pere
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"Yes, he is my son, monseigneur."

"And the poor lad has been cut out by the king, and he frets."

"Still better, monseigneur, he abstains."

"You are going to let the boy rust in idleness; it is a mistake.  Come,
give him to me."

"My wish is to keep him at home, monseigneur.  I have no longer anything
in the world but him, and as long as he likes to remain - "

"Well, well," replied the duke.  "I could, nevertheless, have soon put
matters to rights again.  I assure you, I think he has in him the stuff
of which marechals of France are made; I have seen more than one produced
from less likely rough material."

"That is very possible, monseigneur; but it is the king who makes
marechals of France, and Raoul will never accept anything of the king."

Raoul interrupted this conversation by his return.  He preceded Grimaud,
whose still steady hands carried the plateau with one glass and a bottle
of the duke's favorite wine.  On seeing his old _protege_, the duke
uttered an exclamation of pleasure.

"Grimaud!  Good evening, Grimaud!" said he; "how goes it?"

The servant bowed profoundly, as much gratified as his noble interlocutor.

"Two old friends!" said the duke, shaking honest Grimaud's shoulder after
a vigorous fashion; which was followed by another still more profound and
delighted bow from Grimaud.

"But what is this, count, only one glass?"

"I should not think of drinking with your highness, unless your highness
permitted me," replied Athos, with noble humility.

"_Cordieu!_ you were right to bring only one glass, we will both drink
out of it, like two brothers in arms.  Begin, count."

"Do me the honor," said Athos, gently putting back the glass.

"You are a charming friend," replied the Duc de Beaufort, who drank, and
passed the goblet to his companion.  "But that is not all," continued he,
"I am still thirsty, and I wish to do honor to this handsome young man
who stands here.  I carry good luck with me, vicomte," said he to Raoul;
"wish for something while drinking out of my glass, and may the black
plague grab me if what you wish does not come to pass!"  He held the
goblet to Raoul, who hastily moistened his lips, and replied with the
same promptitude:

"I have wished for something, monseigneur."  His eyes sparkled with a
gloomy fire, and the blood mounted to his cheeks; he terrified Athos, if
only with his smile.

"And what have you wished for?" replied the duke, sinking back into his
fauteuil, whilst with one hand he returned the bottle to Grimaud, and
with the other gave him a purse.

"Will you promise me, monseigneur, to grant me what I wish for?"

"_Pardieu!_  That is agreed upon."

"I wished, monsieur le duc, to go with you to Gigelli."

Athos became pale, and was unable to conceal his agitation.  The duke
looked at his friend, as if desirous to assist him to parry this
unexpected blow.

"That is difficult, my dear vicomte, very difficult," added he, in a
lower tone of voice.

"Pardon me, monseigneur, I have been indiscreet," replied Raoul, in a
firm voice; "but as you yourself invited me to wish - "

"To wish to leave me?" said Athos.

"Oh! monsieur - can you imagine - "

"Well, _mordieu!_" cried the duke, "the young vicomte is right!  What can
he do here?  He will go moldy with grief."

Raoul blushed, and the excitable prince continued: "War is a distraction:
we gain everything by it; we can only lose one thing by it - life - then
so much the worse!"

"That is to say, memory," said Raoul, eagerly; "and that is to say, so
much the better!"

He repented of having spoken so warmly when he saw Athos rise and open
the window; which was, doubtless, to conceal his emotion.  Raoul sprang
towards the comte, but the latter had already overcome his emotion, and
turned to the lights with a serene and impassible countenance.  "Well,
come," said the duke, "let us see!  Shall he go, or shall he not?  If he
goes, comte, he shall be my aide-de-camp, my son."

"Monseigneur!" cried Raoul, bending his knee.

"Monseigneur!" cried Athos, taking the hand of the duke; "Raoul shall do
just as he likes."

"Oh! no, monsieur, just as you like," interrupted the young man.

"_Par la corbleu!_" said the prince in his turn, "it is neither the comte
nor the vicomte that shall have his way, it is I.  I will take him away.
The marine offers a superb fortune, my friend."

Raoul smiled again so sadly, that this time Athos felt his heart
penetrated by it, and replied to him by a severe look.  Raoul
comprehended it all; he recovered his calmness, and was so guarded, that
not another word escaped him.  The duke at length rose, on observing the
advanced hour, and said, with animation, "I am in great haste, but if I
am told I have lost time in talking with a friend, I will reply I have
gained - on the balance - a most excellent recruit."

"Pardon me, monsieur le duc," interrupted Raoul, "do not tell the king
so, for it is not the king I wish to serve."

"Eh! my friend, whom, then, will you serve?  The times are past when you
might have said, 'I belong to M. de Beaufort.'  No, nowadays, we all
belong to the king, great or small.  Therefore, if you serve on board my
vessels, there can be nothing equivocal about it, my dear vicomte; it
will be the king you will serve."

Athos waited with a kind of impatient joy for the reply about to be made
to this embarrassing question by Raoul, the intractable enemy of the
king, his rival.  The father hoped that the obstacle would overcome the
desire.  He was thankful to M. de Beaufort, whose lightness or generous
reflection had thrown an impediment in the way of the departure of a son,
now his only joy.  But Raoul, still firm and tranquil, replied: "Monsieur
le duc, the objection you make I have already considered in my mind.  I
will serve on board your vessels, because you do me the honor to take me
with you; but I shall there serve a more powerful master than the king: I
shall serve God!"

"God! how so?" said the duke and Athos together.

"My intention is to make profession, and become a knight of Malta," added
Bragelonne, letting fall, one by one, words more icy than the drops which
fall from the bare trees after the tempests of winter. (4)

Under this blow Athos staggered and the prince himself was moved.
Grimaud uttered a heavy groan, and let fall the bottle, which was broken
without anybody paying attention.  M. de Beaufort looked the young man in
the face, and read plainly, though his eyes were cast down, the fire of
resolution before which everything must give way.  As to Athos, he was
too well acquainted with that tender, but inflexible soul; he could not
hope to make it deviate from the fatal road it had just chosen.  He could
only press the hand the duke held out to him.  "Comte, I shall set off in
two days for Toulon," said M. de Beaufort.  "Will you meet me at Paris,
in order that I may know your determination?"

"I will have the honor of thanking you there, _mon prince_, for all your
kindness," replied the comte.

"And be sure to bring the vicomte with you, whether he follows me or does
not follow me," added the duke; "he has my word, and I only ask yours."

Having thrown a little balm upon the wound of the paternal heart, he
pulled the ear of Grimaud, whose eyes sparkled more than usual, and
regained his escort in the parterre.  The horses, rested and refreshed,
set off with spirit through the lovely night, and soon placed a
considerable distance between their master and the chateau.

Athos and Bragelonne were again face to face.  Eleven o'clock was
striking.  The father and son preserved a profound silence towards each
other, where an intelligent observer would have expected cries and
tears.  But these two men were of such a nature that all emotion
following their final resolutions plunged itself so deep into their
hearts that it was lost forever.  They passed, then, silently and almost
breathlessly, the hour that preceded midnight.  The clock, by striking,
alone pointed out to them how many minutes had lasted the painful journey
made by their souls in the immensity of their remembrances of the past
and fear of the future.  Athos rose first, saying, "it is late, then....
Till to-morrow."

Raoul rose, and in his turn embraced his father.  The latter held him
clasped to his breast, and said, in a tremulous voice, "In two days, you
will have left me, my son - left me forever, Raoul!"

"Monsieur," replied the young man, "I had formed a determination, that of
piercing my heart with my sword; but you would have thought that
cowardly.  I have renounced that determination, and _therefore_ we must

"You leave me desolate by going, Raoul."

"Listen to me again, monsieur, I implore you.  If I do not go, I shall
die here of grief and love.  I know how long a time I have to live thus.
Send me away quickly, monsieur, or you will see me basely die before your
eyes - in your house - this is stronger than my will - stronger than my
strength - you may plainly see that within one month I have lived thirty
years, and that I approach the end of my life."

"Then," said Athos, coldly, "you go with the intention of getting killed
in Africa?  Oh, tell me! do not lie!"

Raoul grew deadly pale, and remained silent for two seconds, which were
to his father two hours of agony.  Then, all at once: "Monsieur," said
he, "I have promised to devote myself to God.  In exchange for the
sacrifice I make of my youth and liberty, I will only ask of Him one
thing, and that is, to preserve me for you, because you are the only tie
which attaches me to this world.  God alone can give me the strength not
to forget that I owe you everything, and that nothing ought to stand in
my esteem before you."

Athos embraced his son tenderly, and said:

"You have just replied to me on the word of honor of an honest man; in
two days we shall be with M. de Beaufort at Paris, and you will then do
what will be proper for you to do.  You are free, Raoul; adieu."

And he slowly gained his bedroom.  Raoul went down into the garden, and
passed the night in the alley of limes.

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