ich
are very dear things in Africa. Now, as you are not actually in the
service of the king or M. de Beaufort, and are simply a volunteer, you
must not reckon upon either pay or largesse. But I should not like you
to want for anything at Gigelli. Here are two hundred pistoles; if you
would please me, Raoul, spend them."

Raoul pressed the hand of his father, and, at the turning of a street,
they saw M. de Beaufort, mounted on a magnificent white _genet_, which
responded by graceful curvets to the applause of the women of the city.
The duke called Raoul, and held out his hand to the comte. He spoke to
him for some time, with such a kindly expression that the heart of the
poor father even felt a little comforted. It was, however, evident to
both father and son that their walk amounted to nothing less than a
punishment. There was a terrible moment--that at which, on quitting the
sands of the shore, the soldiers and sailors exchanged the last
kisses with their families and friends; a supreme moment, in which,
notwithstanding the clearness of the heavens, the warmth of the sun, of
the perfumes of the air, and the rich life that was circulating in their
veins, everything appeared black, everything bitter, everything created
doubts of Providence, nay, at the most, of God. It was customary for
the admiral and his suite to embark last; the cannon waited to announce,
with its formidable voice, that the leader had placed his foot on board
his vessel. Athos, forgetful of both the admiral and the fleet, and of
his own dignity as a strong man, opened his arms to his son, and pressed
him convulsively to his heart.

"Accompany us on board," said the duke, very much affected; "you will
gain a good half-hour."

"No," said Athos, "my farewell has been spoken, I do not wish to voice a
second."

"Then, vicomte, embark--embark quickly!" added the prince, wishing
to spare the tears of these two men, whose hearts were bursting. And
paternally, tenderly, very much as Porthos might have done, he took
Raoul in his arms and placed him in the boat, the oars of which, at a
signal, immediately were dipped in the waves. He himself, forgetful of
ceremony, jumped into his boat, and pushed it off with a vigorous foot.
"Adieu!" cried Raoul.

Athos replied only by a sign, but he felt something burning on his hand:
it was the respectful kiss of Grimaud--the last farewell of the faithful
dog. This kiss given, Grimaud jumped from the step of the mole up