Paternal Affection.
Whilst this terrible scene was passing at Lord de Winter's, Athos, seated near his window, his elbow on the table and his head supported on his hand, was listening intently to Raoul's account of the adventures he met with on his journey and the details of the battle.
Listening to the relation of those emotions so fresh and pure, the fine, noble face of Athos betrayed indescribable pleasure; he inhaled the tones of that young voice, as harmonious music. He forgot all that was dark in the past and that was cloudy in the future. It almost seemed as if the return of this much loved boy had changed his fears to hopes. Athos was happy -- happy as he had never been before.
"And you assisted and took part in this great battle, Bragelonne!" cried the former musketeer.
"Yes, sir."
"And it was a fierce one?"
"His highness the prince charged eleven times in person."
"He is a great commander, Bragelonne."
"He is a hero, sir. I did not lose sight of him for an instant. Oh! how fine it is to be called Conde and to be so worthy of such a name!"
"He was calm and radiant, was he not?"
"As calm as at parade, radiant as at a fete. When we went up to the enemy it was slowly; we were forbidden to draw first and we were marching toward the Spaniards, who were on a height with lowered muskets. When we arrived about thirty paces from them the prince turned around to the soldiers:
`Comrades,' he said, `you are about to suffer a furious discharge; but after that you will make short work with those fellows.' There was such dead silence that friends and enemies could have heard these words; then raising his sword, `Sound trumpets!' he cried."
"Well, very good; you will do as much when the opportunity occurs, will you, Raoul?"
"I know not, sir, but I thought it really very fine and grand!"
"Were you afraid, Raoul?" asked the count.
"Yes, sir," replied the young man naively; "I felt a great chill at my heart, and at the word `fire,' which resounded in Spanish from the enemy's ranks, I closed my eyes and thought of you."
"In honest truth, Raoul?" said Athos, pressing his hand.
"Yes, sir; at that instant there was such a rataplan of musketry that one might have imagined the infernal regions had opened. Those who were not killed felt the heat of the flames. I opened my eyes, astonished to find myself alive and even unhurt; a third of the squadron were lying on the ground, wounded, dead or dying. At that moment I encountered the eye of the prince. I had but one thought and that was that he was observing me. I spurred on and found myself in the enemy's ranks."
"And the prince was pleased with you?"
"He told me so, at least, sir, when he desired me to return to Paris with Monsieur de Chatillon, who was charged to carry the news to the queen and to bring the colors we had taken. `Go,' said he; `the enemy will not rally for fifteen days and until that time I have no need of your service. Go and see those whom you love and who love you, and tell my sister De Longueville that I thank her for the present that she made me of you.' And I came, sir," added Raoul, gazing at the count with a smile of real affection, "for I thought you would be glad to see me again."
Athos drew the young man toward him and pressed his lips to his brow, as he would have done to a young daughter.
"And now, Raoul," said he, "you are launched; you have dukes for friends, a marshal of France for godfather, a prince of the blood as commander, and on the day of your return you have been received by two queens; it is not so bad for a novice."
"Oh sir," said Raoul, suddenly, "you recall something, which, in my haste to relate my exploits, I had forgotten; it is that there was with Her Majesty the Queen of England, a gentleman who, when I pronounced your name, uttered a cry of surprise and joy; he said he was a friend of yours, asked your address, and is coming to see you."
"What is his name?"
"I did not venture to ask, sir; he spoke elegantly, although I thought from his accent he was an Englishman."
"Ah!" said Athos, leaning down his head as if to remember who it could be. Then, when he raised it again, he was struck by the presence of a man who was standing at the open door and was gazing at him with a compassionate air.
"Lord de Winter!" exclaimed the count.
"Athos, my friend!"
And the two gentlemen were for an instant locked in each other's arms; then Athos, looking into his friend's face and taking him by both hands, said:
"What ails you, my lord? you appear as unhappy as I am the reverse."
"Yes, truly, dear friend; and I may even say the sight of you increases my dismay."
And De Winter glancing around him, Raoul quickly understood that the two friends wished to be alone and he therefore left the room unaffectedly.
"Come, now that we are alone," said Athos, "let us talk of yourself."
"Whilst we are alone let us speak of ourselves," replied De Winter. "He is here."
"Who?"
"Milady's son."
Athos, again struck by this name, which seemed to pursue him like an echo, hesitated for a moment, then slightly knitting his brows, he calmly said:
"I know it, Grimaud met him between Bethune and Arras and then came here to warn me of his presence."
"Does Grimaud know him, then?"
"No; but he was present at the deathbed of a man who knew him."
"The headsman of Bethune?" exclaimed De Winter.
"You know about that?" cried Athos, astonished.
"He has just left me," replied De Winter, "after telling me all. Ah! my friend! what a horrible scene! Why did we not destroy the child with the mother?"
"What need you fear?" said Athos, recovering from the instinctive fear he had at first experienced, by the aid of reason; "are we not men accustomed to defend ourselves? Is this young man an assassin by profession -- a murderer in cold blood? He has killed the executioner of Bethune in an access of passion, but now his fury is assuaged."
De Winter smiled sorrowfully and shook his head.
"Do you not know the race?" said he.