France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
“That delightful time, that generous season, that ruling by warm blood,
were all very fine things, no doubt; but I do not regret them at all.
It is absolutely like the period of studies. I have constantly met with
fools who would boast of the days of pensums, ferules and crusts of dry
bread. It is singular, but I never loved all that; for my part, however
active and sober I might be (you know if I was so, Athos), however
simple I might appear in my clothes, I would not the less have
preferred the braveries and embroideries of Porthos to my little
perforated cassock, which gave passage to the wind in winter and the
sun in summer. I should always, my friend, mistrust him who would
pretend to prefer evil to good. Now, in times past all went wrong with
me, and every month found a fresh hole in my cassock and in my skin, a
gold crown less in my poor purse; of that execrable time of small beer
and see-saw, I regret absolutely nothing, nothing, nothing save our
friendship; for within me I have a heart, and it is a miracle that
heart has not been dried up by the wind of poverty which passed through
the holes of my cloak, or pierced by the swords of all shapes which
passed through the holes in my poor flesh.”
“Do not regret our friendship,” said Athos, “that will only die with
ourselves. Friendship is composed, above all things, of memories and
habits, and if you have just now made a little satire upon mine,
because I hesitate to tell you the nature of my mission into France——”
“Who! I?—Oh! heavens! if you knew, my dear friend, how indifferent all
the missions of the world will henceforth become to me!” And he laid
his hand upon the parchment in his vest pocket.
Athos rose from the table and called the host in order to pay the
reckoning.
“Since I have known you, my friend,” said D’Artagnan, “I have never
discharged the reckoning. Porthos often did, Aramis sometimes, and you,
you almost always drew out your purse with the dessert. I am now rich
and should like to try if it is heroic to pay.”
“Do so,” said Athos; returning his purse to his pocket.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account