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of De Guiche. Raoul was about to speak. He leaned indolently against the trunk of the large oak, and replied in his sweet and musical voice, "Alas, my dear De Guiche, it is a great misfortune." "Yes," cried the latter, "great indeed." "You do not understand me, De Guiche. I say that it is a great misfortune for you, not merely loving, but not knowing how to conceal your love." "What do you mean?" said De Guiche. "Yes, you do not perceive one thing; namely, that it is no longer to the only friend you have,--in other words,--to a man who would rather die than betray you; you do not perceive, I say, that it is no longer to your only friend that you confide your passion, but to the first person that approaches you." "Are you mad, Bragelonne," exclaimed De Guiche, "to say such a thing to me?" "The fact stands thus, however." "Impossible! How, in what manner can I have ever been indiscreet to such an extent?" "I mean, that your eyes, your looks, your sighs, proclaim, in spite of yourself, that exaggerated feeling which leads and hurries a man beyond his own control. In such a case he ceases to be master of himself; he is a prey to a mad passion, that makes him confide his grief to the trees, or to the air, from the very moment he has no longer any living being in reach of his voice. Besides, remember this: it very rarely happens that there is not always some one present to hear, especially the very things which ought _not_ to be heard." De Guiche uttered a deep sigh. "Nay," continued Bragelonne, "you distress me; since your return here, you have a thousand times, and in a thousand different ways, confessed your love for her; and yet, had you not said one word, your return alone would have been a terrible indiscretion. I persist, then, in drawing this conclusion; that if you do not place a better watch over yourself than you have hitherto done, one day or other something will happen that will cause an explosion. Who will save you then? Answer me. Who will save her? for, innocent as she will be of your affection, your affection will be an accusation against her in the hands of her enemies." "Alas!" murmured De Guiche; and a deep sigh accompanied the exclamation. "That is not answering me, De Guiche." "Yes, yes." "Well, what reply have you to make?" "This, that when the day arrives I shall be no more a living being than I feel myself now." "I do not understand you." "So many vicissitudes ha
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