The Vicomte de Bragelonne; Or, Ten Years Later: Being the completion of "The Three Musketeers" and "Twenty Years After"Dumas, Alexandre
History
The Vicomte de Bragelonne; Or, Ten Years Later: Being the completion of "The Three Musketeers" and "Twenty Years After"
Dumas, Alexandre
Adventure stories; France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"Not so; for, every time during the last three days, when you went out,
you have not once failed to ask me, on your return, 'Have you seen M.
d'Herblay?' or else, 'Have you received any letters for me from M.
d'Herblay?'"
"Well, it is very natural I should take an interest in my old friend,"
said D'Artagnan.
"Of course; but not to such an extent as to get thin from it."
"Planchet, I'll get fatter: I give you my word of honor I will."
"Very well, monsieur, I accept it; for I know that when you give your
word of honor it is sacred."
"I will not dream of Aramis any longer; and I will never ask you, again,
if there are any letters from M. d'Herblay; but on condition that you
explain one thing to me."
"Tell me what it is, monsieur."
"I am a great observer; and just now, you made use of a very singular
oath, which is unusual for you."
"You mean Malaga! I suppose?"
"Precisely."
"It is the oath I have used ever since I have been a grocer."
"Very proper, too; it is the name of a dried grape, or raisin, I
believe?"
"It is my most ferocious oath: when I have once said Malaga! I am a man
no longer."
"Still, I never knew you use that oath before."
"Very likely not, monsieur. I had a present made me of it," said
Planchet; and as he pronounced these words, he winked his eye with a
cunning expression, which thoroughly awakened D'Artagnan's attention.
"Come, come, M. Planchet."
"Why, I am not like you, monsieur," said Planchet. "I don't pass my life
in thinking."
"You are wrong, then."
"I mean, in boring myself to death. We have but a very short time to
live--why not make the best of it?"
"You are an Epicurean philosopher, I begin to think, Planchet."
"Why not? My hand is still as steady as ever; I can write, and can weigh
out my sugar and spices; my foot is firm; I can dance and walk about; my
stomach has its teeth still, for I eat and digest well; my heart is not
quite hardened. Well, monsieur?"
"Well, what, Planchet?"
"Why, you see--" said the grocer, rubbing his hands together.
D'Artagnan crossed one leg over the other, and said, "Planchet, my
friend, I am astounded by surprise: for you are revealing yourself to me
under a perfectly new light."
Planchet, flattered in the highest degree by this remark, continued to
rub his hands very hard together. "Ah! ah!" he said, "because I happen
to be only stupid, you think me, perhaps, a positive fool."
"Very good, Planchet; very well reasoned."
"Follow my idea, monsieur, if you please. I said to myself," continued
Planchet, "that, without enjoyment, there is no happiness on this
earth."
"Quite true, what you say, Planchet," interrupted D'Artagnan.
"At all events, if we cannot obtain pleasure--for pleasure is not so
common a thing after all--let us, at least, get consolations of some
kind or other."
"And so you console yourself?"
"Exactly so."
"Tell me how you console yourself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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