“Madame,” he said, “will be brilliant; she appears to-day in her costume of Pomona.” “Yes, that is so,” exclaimed the count. “And she has just given directions in consequence,” continued the chevalier. “You know, Monsieur de Bragelonne, that the king is to appear as Spring.” “It will be admirable,” said De Guiche; “and that is a better reason for me to remain than any you have yet given, because I am to appear as Autumn, and shall have to dance with Madame. I cannot absent myself without the king’s orders, since my departure would interrupt the ballet.” “I,” said the chevalier, “am to be only a simple _egypan_; true, it is, I am a bad dancer, and my legs are not well made. Gentlemen, adieu. Do not forget the basket of fruit, which you are to offer to Pomona, count.” “Rest assured,” said De Guiche, delightedly, “I shall forget nothing.” “I am now quite certain that he will remain,” murmured the Chevalier de Lorraine to himself. Raoul, when the chevalier had left, did not even attempt to dissuade his friend, for he felt that it would be trouble thrown away; he merely observed to the comte, in his melancholy and melodious voice, “You are embarking in a most dangerous enterprise. I know you well; you go to extremes in everything, and the lady you love does so, too. Admitting for an instant that she should at last love you--” “Oh, never!” exclaimed De Guiche. “Why do you say never?” “Because it would be a great misfortune for both of us.” “In that case, instead of regarding you simply imprudent, I cannot but consider you absolutely mad.” “Why?” “Are you perfectly sure--mind, answer me frankly--that you do not wish her whom you love to make any sacrifice for you?” “Yes, yes; quite sure.” “Love her, then, at a distance.” “What! at a distance?” “Certainly; what matters being present or absent, since you expect nothing from her? Love her portrait, a memento.” “Raoul!” “Love is a shadow, an illusion, a chimera; be devoted to the affection itself, in giving a name to your ideality.” “Ah!” “You turn away; your servants approach. I will say no more. In good or bad fortune, De Guiche, depend on me.” “Indeed I shall do so.” “Very well; that is all I had to say to you. Spare no pains in your person, De Guiche, and look your very best. Adieu.” “You will not be present, then, at the ballet, vicomte?” “No; I shall have a visit to pay in town. Farewell, De Guiche.”