ter delivering his message, would have galloped off towards his
father's house, turning his head round, perhaps, but without stopping
for a single instant, even if Louise had held out her arms to him.

So the first part of the journey was given by Raoul to regretting the
past which he had been forced to quit so quickly, that is to say, his
lady-love; and the other part to the friend he was about to join, so
much too slowly for his wishes.

Raoul found the garden-gate open, and rode straight in, without
regarding the long arms, raised in anger, of an old man dressed in a
jacket of violet-colored wool, and a large cap of faded velvet.

The old man, who was weeding with his hands a bed of dwarf roses and
marguerites, was indignant at seeing a horse thus traversing his sanded
and nicely-raked walks. He even ventured a vigorous "Humph!" which made
the cavalier turn round. Then there was a change of scene; for no sooner
had he caught sight of Raoul's face, than the old man sprang up and set
off in the direction of the house, amidst interrupted growlings, which
appeared to be paroxysms of wild delight.

When arrived at the stables, Raoul gave his horse to a little lackey,
and sprang up the perron with an ardor that would have delighted the
heart of his father.

He crossed the ante-chamber, the dining-room, and the salon, without
meeting with any one; at length, on reaching the door of M. de la Fere's
apartment, he rapped impatiently, and entered almost without waiting for
the word "Enter!" which was vouchsafed him by a voice at once sweet and
serious. The comte was seated at a table covered with papers and books;
he was still the noble, handsome gentleman of former days, but time had
given to this nobleness and beauty a more solemn and distinct character.
A brow white and void of wrinkles, beneath his long hair, now more white
than black; an eye piercing and mild, under the lids of a young man;
his mustache, fine but slightly grizzled, waved over lips of a pure and
delicate model, as if they had never been curled by mortal passions; a
form straight and supple; an irreproachable but thin hand--this was what
remained of the illustrious gentleman whom so many illustrious mouths
had praised under the name of Athos. He was engaged in correcting the
pages of a manuscript book, entirely filled by his own hand.

Raoul seized his father by the shoulders, by the neck, as he could,
and embraced him so tenderly and so rapidly, that t