s my wish, therefore, to marry her, monsieur, and I have
come to solicit your consent to my marriage."

While this communication was being made to him, Athos maintained the
profoundest silence and reserve. Raoul, who had begun his address with
an assumption of self-possession, finished it by allowing a manifest
emotion to escape him at every word. Athos fixed upon Bragelonne a
searching look, overshadowed indeed by a slight sadness.

"You have reflected well upon it?" he inquired.

"Yes, monsieur."

"I believe you are already acquainted with my views respecting this
alliance?"

"Yes, monsieur," replied Raoul, in a low tone of voice, "but you added,
that if I persisted----"

"You do persist, then?"

Bragelonne stammered out an almost unintelligible assent.

"Your passion," continued Athos, tranquilly, "must indeed be very great,
since, notwithstanding my dislike to this union, you persist in wishing
it."

Raoul passed his trembling hand across his forehead to remove the
perspiration that collected there. Athos looked at him, and his heart
was touched by pity. He rose and said,----

"It is no matter. My own personal feelings are not to be taken into
consideration since yours are concerned; you need my assistance; I am
ready to give it. Tell me what you want."

"Your kind indulgence, first of all, monsieur," said Raoul, taking hold
of his hand.

"You have mistaken my feelings, Raoul, I have more than mere indulgence
for you in my heart."

Raoul kissed as devotedly as a lover could have done the hand he held in
his own.

"Come, come," said Athos, "I am quite ready; what do you wish me to
sign?"

"Nothing whatever, monsieur, only it would be very kind if you would
take the trouble to write to the king to whom I belong, and solicit his
majesty's permission for me to marry Mademoiselle de la Valliere."

"Well thought, Raoul! After, or rather before myself, you have a master
to consult, that master being the king; it is loyal in you to submit
yourself voluntarily to this double proof; I will grant your request
without delay, Raoul."

The count approached the window, and leaning out, called to Grimaud,
who showed his head from an arbor covered with jasmine, which he was
occupied in trimming.

"My horses, Grimaud," continued the count.

"Why this order, monsieur?" inquired Raoul.

"We shall set off in a few hours."

"Whither?"

"For Paris."

"Paris, monsieur?"

"Is not the king at Paris?"

"Ce