ed De Guiche's elbow, saying, "There's a pretext for you."

"What?"

"M. de Bragelonne's excuses."

"A weak pretext," said De Guiche.

"An excellent one, if Monsieur is not angry with you; but a paltry one
if he bears you ill-will."

"You are right, Manicamp; a pretext, however poor it may be, is all I
require. And so, a pleasant journey to you, Raoul!" And the two friends
took a warm leave of each other.

Five minutes afterwards Raoul entered Madame's apartments, as
Mademoiselle de Montalais had begged him to do. Madame was still seated
at the table where she had written her letter. Before her was still
burning the rose-colored taper she had used to seal it. Only in her deep
reflection, for Madame seemed to be buried in thought, she had forgotten
to extinguish the light. Bragelonne was a very model of elegance in
every way; it was impossible to see him once without always remembering
him; and not only had Madame seen him once, but it will not be
forgotten he was one of the very first who had gone to meet her, and had
accompanied her from Le Havre to Paris. Madame preserved therefore an
excellent recollection of him.

"Ah! M. de Bragelonne," she said to him, "you are going to see my
brother, who will be delighted to pay to the son a portion of the debt
of gratitude he contracted with the father."

"The Comte de la Fere, Madame, has been abundantly recompensed for the
little service he had the happiness to render the king, by the kindness
manifested towards him, and it is I who will have to convey to his
majesty the assurance of the respect, devotion, and gratitude of both
father and son."

"Do you know my brother?"

"No, your highness; I shall have the honor of seeing his majesty for the
first time."

"You require no recommendation to him. At all events, however, if you
have any doubt about your personal merit, take me unhesitatingly for
your surety."

"Your royal highness overwhelms me with kindness."

"No! M. de Bragelonne, I well remember that we were fellow-travelers
once, and that I remarked your extreme prudence in the midst of the
extravagant absurdities committed, on both sides, by two of the greatest
simpletons in the world,--M. de Guiche and the Duke of Buckingham. Let
us not speak of them, however; but of yourself. Are you going to England
to remain there permanently? Forgive my inquiry: it is not curiosity,
but a desire to be of service to you in anything I can."

"No, Madame; I am going t