France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction; Fronde -- Fiction
"Did you not fall in with the Duc d'Épernon?" interposed the young
man, whose eyes sparkled with joy at this enumeration of forces, which
augured well for the triumph of the party to which he was attached.
"The Duc d'Épernon?" repeated Richon, opening his eyes; "where do you
suppose I fell in with him, I pray to know? I come from Agen, not from
Bordeaux."
"You might have fallen in with him within a few steps of this place,"
replied the viscount, smiling.
"Ah! yes, of course, the lovely Nanon de Lartigues lives in the
neighborhood, does she not?"
"Within two musket-shots of the inn."
"The deuce! that explains the Baron de Canolles' presence at the Golden
Calf."
"Do you know him?"
"Whom? the baron? Yes. I might almost say that I am his friend, if
Monsieur de Canolles were not of the oldest nobility, while I am only a
poor _roturier._"
"_Roturiers_ like yourself, Richon, are quite as valuable as princes in
our present plight. Do you know, by the way, that I saved your friend,
Baron de Canolles, from a thrashing, if not from something much worse."
"Yes; he said something of that to me, but I hardly listened to him, I
was in such haste to join you. Are you sure that he didn't recognize
you?"
"He could hardly recognize a person he had never seen."
"I should have asked if he did not guess who you are."
"Indeed," replied the viscount, "he looked at me very hard."
Richon smiled.
"I can well believe it," he said; "one doesn't meet young gentlemen of
your type every day."
"He seemed to me a jovial sort of fellow," said the viscount, after a
brief pause.
"A jovial fellow and a good fellow, too; he has a charming wit and a
great heart. The Gascon, you know, is never mediocre in anything; he
is in the front rank or is good for nothing. This one is made of good
stuff. In love, as in war, he is at once a dandy and a gallant officer;
I am sorry that he is against us. Indeed, as chance brought you in
contact with him, you should have seized the opportunity to win him
over to our side."
A fugitive blush passed like a flash over the viscount's pale cheeks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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