admiration."
"Sir," said Madame de Chevreuse, "you must excuse me, but I
long to know to whom I am talking. You belong to the court,
doubtless, yet I have never seen you at court. Have you, by
any chance, been in the Bastile?"
"No, madame, I have not; but very likely I am on the road to
it."
"Ah! then tell me who you are, and get along with you upon
your journey," replied the duchess, with the gayety which
made her so charming, "for I am sufficiently in bad odor
already, without compromising myself still more."
"Who I am, madame? My name has been mentioned to you -- the
Comte de la Fere; you do not know that name. I once bore
another, which you knew, but you have certainly forgotten
it."
"Tell it me, sir."
"Formerly," said the count, "I was Athos."
Madame de Chevreuse looked astonished. The name was not
wholly forgotten, but mixed up and confused with ancient
recollections.
"Athos?" said she; "wait a moment."
And she placed her hands on her brow, as if to force the
fugitive ideas it contained to concentration in a moment.
"Shall I help you, madame?" asked Athos.
"Yes, do," said the duchess.
"This Athos was connected with three young musketeers, named
Porthos, D'Artagnan, and ---- "
He stopped short.
"And Aramis," said the duchess, quickly.
"And Aramis; I see you have not forgotten the name."
"No," she said; "poor Aramis; a charming man, elegant,
discreet, and a writer of poetical verses. I am afraid he
has turned out ill," she added.
"He has; he is an abbe."
"Ah, what a misfortune!" exclaimed the duchess, playing
carelessly with her fan. "Indeed, sir, I thank you; you have
recalled one of the most agreeable recollections of my
youth."
"Will you permit me, then, to recall another to you?"
"Relating to him?"
"Yes and no."
"Faith!" said Madame de Chevreuse, "say on. With a man like
you I fear nothing."
Athos bowed. "Aramis," he continued, "was intimate with a
young needlewoman from Tours, a cousin of his, named Marie
Michon."
"Ah, I knew her!" cried the duchess. "It was to her he wrote
from the siege of Rochelle, to warn her of a plot against
the Duke of Buckingham."
"Exactly so; will you allow me to speak to you of her?"
"If," replied the duchess, with a meaning look, "you do not
say too much against her."
"I should be ungrateful," said Athos, "and I regard
ingratitude, not as a fault or a crime, but as a vice, which
is much worse."
"You ungrateful to Marie Michon, monsieur?" said Madame de
Chevreuse, trying to read in Athos's eyes. "But how can that
be? You never knew her."
"Eh, madame, who knows?" said Athos. "There is a popular
proverb to the effect that it is only mountains that never
meet; and popular proverbs contain sometimes a wonderful
amount of truth."
"Oh, go on, monsieur, go on!" said Madame de Chevreuse
eagerly; "you can't imagine how much this conversation
interests me."
"You encourage me," said Athos, "I will continue, then. That
cousin of Aramis, that Marie Michon, that needlewoman,
notwithstanding her low condition, had acquaintances in the
highest rank; she called the grandest ladies of the court
her friend, and the queen -- proud as she is, in her double
character as Austrian and as Spaniard -- called her her
sister."
"Alas!" said Madame de Chevreuse, with a slight sigh and a
little movement of her eyebrows that was peculiarly her own,
"since that time everything has changed."
"And the queen had reason for her affection, for Marie was
devoted to her -- devoted to that degree that she served her
as medium of intercourse with her brother, the king of
Spain."
"Which," interrupted the duchess, "is now brought up against
her as a great crime."
"And therefore," continued Athos, "the cardinal -- the true
cardinal, the other one -- determined one fine morning to
arrest poor Marie Michon and send her to the Chateau de
Loches. Fortunately the affair was not managed so secretly
but that it became known to the queen. The case had been
provided for: if Marie Michon should be threatened with any
danger the queen was to send her a prayer-book bound in
green velvet."
"That is true, monsieur, you are well informed."
"One morning the green book was brought to her by the Prince
de Marsillac. There was no time to lose. Happily Marie and a
follower of hers named Kitty could disguise themselves
admirably in men's clothes. The prince procured for Marie
Michon the dress of a cavalier and for Kitty that of a
lackey; he sent them two excellent horses, and the fugitives
went out hastily from Tours, shaping their course toward
Spain, trembling at the least noise, following unfrequented
roads, and asking for hospitality when they found themselves
where there was no inn."
"Why, really, it was all exactly as you say!" cried Madame
de Chevreuse, clapping her hands. "It would indeed be
strange if ---- " she checked herself.
"If I should follow the two fugitives to the end of their
journey?" said Athos. "No, madame, I will not thus waste
your time. We will accompany them only to a little village
in Limousin, lying between Tulle and Angouleme -- a little
village called Roche-l'Abeille."
Madame de Chevreuse uttered a cry of surprise, and looked at
Athos with an expression of astonishment that made the old
musketeer smile.
"Wait, madame," continued Athos, "what remains for me to
tell you is even more strange than what I have narrated."
"Monsieur," said Madame de Chevreuse, "I believe you are a
sorcerer; I am prepared for anything. But really -- No
matter, go on."
"The journey of that day had been long and wearing; it was a
cold day, the eleventh of October, there was no inn or
chateau in the village and the homes of the peasants were
poor and unattractive. Marie Michon was a very aristocratic
person; like her sister the queen, she had been accustomed
to pleasing perfumes and fine linen; she resolved,
therefore, to seek hospitality of the priest."
Athos paused.
"Oh, continue!" said the duchess. "I have told you that I am
prepared for anything."
"The two travelers knocked at the door. It was late; the
priest, who had gone to bed, cried out to them to come in.
They entered, for the door was not locked -- there is much
confidence among villagers. A lamp burned in the chamber
occupied by the priest. Marie Michon, who made the most
charming cavalier in the world, pushed open the door, put
her head in and asked for hospitality. `Willingly, my young
cavalier,' said the priest, `if you will be content with the
remains of my supper and with half my chamber.'
"The two travelers consulted for a moment. The priest heard
a burst of laughter and then the master, or rather, the
mistress, replied: `Thank you, monsieur le cure, I accept.'
`Sup, then, and make as little noise as possible,' said the
priest, `for I, too, have been on the go all day and shall
not be sorry to sleep to-night.'"
Madame de Chevreuse evidently went from surprise to
astonishment, and from astonishment to stupefaction. Her
face, as she looked at Athos, had taken on an expression
that cannot be described. It could be seen that she had
wished to speak, but she had remained silent through fear of
losing one of her companion's words.
"What happened then?" she asked.
"Then?" said Athos. "Ah, I have come now to what is most
difficult."
"Speak, speak! One can say anything to me. Besides, it
doesn't concern me; it relates to Mademoiselle Marie
Michon."
"Ah, that is true," said Athos. "Well, then, Marie Michon
had supper with her follower, and then, in accordance with
the permission given her, she entered the chamber of her
host, Kitty meanwhile taking possession of an armchair in
the room first entered, where they had taken their supper."
"Really, monsieur," said Madame de Chevreuse, "unless you
are the devil in person I don't know how you could become
acquainted with all these details."
"A charming woman was that Marie Michon," resumed Athos,
"one of those wild creatures who are constantly conceiving
the strangest ideas. Now, thinking that her host was a
priest, that coquette took it into her head that it would be
a happy souvenir for her old age, among the many happy
souvenirs she already possessed, if she could win that of
having damned an abbe."
"Count," said the duchess, "upon my word, you frighten me."
"Alas!" continued Athos, "the poor abbe was not a St.
Ambroise, and I repeat, Marie Michon was an adorable
creature."
"Monsieur!" cried the duchess, seizing Athos's hands, "tell
me this moment how you know all these details, or I will
send to the convent of the Vieux Augustins for a monk to
come and exorcise you."
Athos laughed. "Nothing is easier, madame. A cavalier,
charged with an important mission, had come an hour before
your arrival, seeking hospitality, at the very moment that
the cure, summoned to the bedside of a dying person, left
not only his house but the village, for the entire night.
The priest having all confidence in his guest, who, besides,
was a nobleman, had left to him his house, his supper and
his chamber. And therefore Marie came seeking hospitality
from the guest of the good abbe and not from the good abbe
himself."
"And that cavalier, that guest, that nobleman who arrived
before she came?"
"It was I, the Comte de la Fere," said Athos, rising and
bowing respectfully to the Duchess de Chevreuse.
The duchess remained a moment stupefied; then, suddenly
bursting into laughter:
"Ah! upon my word," said she, "it is very droll, and that
mad Marie Michon fared better than she expected. Sit down,
dear count, and go on with your story."
"At this point I have to accuse myself of a fault, madame. I
have told you that I was traveling on an important mission.
At daybreak I left the chamber without noise, leaving my
charming companion asleep. In the front room the follower
was also still asleep, her head leaning back on the chair,
in all respects worthy of her mistress. Her pretty face
arrested my attention; I approached and recognized that
little Kitty whom our friend Aramis had placed with her. In
that way I discovered that the charming traveler was ---- "
"Marie Michon!" said Madame de Chevreuse, hastily.
"Marie Michon," continued Athos. "Then I went out of the
house; I proceeded to the stable and found my horse saddled
and my lackey ready. We set forth on our journey."
"And have you never revisited that village?" eagerly asked
Madame de Chevreuse.
"A year after, madame."
"Well?"
"I wanted to see the good cure again. I found him much
preoccupied with an event that he could not at all
comprehend. A week before he had received, in a cradle, a
beautiful little boy three months old, with a purse filled
with gold and a note containing these simple words: `11
October, 1633.'"
"It was the date of that strange adventure," interrupted
Madame de Chevreuse.
"Yes, but he couldn't understand what it meant, for he had
spent that night with a dying person and Marie Michon had
left his house before his return."
"You must know, monsieur, that Marie Michon, when she
returned to France in 1643, immediately sought for
information about that child; as a fugitive she could not
take care of it, but on her return she wished to have it
near her."
"And what said the abbe?" asked Athos.
"That a nobleman whom he did not know had wished to take
charge of it, had answered for its future, and had taken it
away."
"That was true."
"Ah! I see! That nobleman was you; it was his father!"
"Hush! do not speak so loud, madame; he is there."
"He is there! my son! the son of Marie Michon! But I must
see him instantly."
"Take care, madame," said Athos, "for he knows neither his
father nor his mother."
"You have kept the secret! you have brought him to see me,
thinking to make me happy. Oh, thanks! sir, thanks!" cried
Madame de Chevreuse, seizing his hand and trying to put it
to her lips; "you have a noble heart."
"I bring him to you, madame," said Athos, withdrawing his
hand, "hoping that in your turn you will do something for
him; till now I have watched over his education and I have
made him, I hope, an accomplished gentleman; but I am now
obliged to return to the dangerous and wandering life of
party faction. To-morrow I plunge into an adventurous affair
in which I may be killed. Then it will devolve on you to
push him on in that world where he is called on to occupy a
place."
"Rest assured," cried the duchess, "I shall do what I can. I
have but little influence now, but all that I have shall
most assuredly be his. As to his title and fortune ---- "
"As to that, madame, I have made over to him the estate of
Bragelonne, my inheritance, which will give him ten thousand
francs a year and the title of vicomte."
"Upon my soul, monsieur," said the duchess, "you are a true
