rs, my ear on the stretch for the report that
may reach me, I wish to be ready to set out at the first summons. Who
will make me that summons? life or death? God or Raoul? My baggage
is packed, my soul is prepared, I await the signal--I wait, doctor, I
wait!"

The doctor knew the temper of that mind; he appreciated the strength
of that body; he reflected for the moment, told himself that words
were useless, remedies absurd, and left the chateau, exhorting Athos's
servants not to quit him for a moment.

The doctor being gone, Athos evinced neither anger nor vexation at
having been disturbed. He did not even desire that all letters that
came should be brought to him directly. He knew very well that every
distraction which should arise would be a joy, a hope, which his
servants would have paid with their blood to procure him. Sleep had
become rare. By intense thinking, Athos forgot himself, for a few hours
at most, in a reverie most profound, more obscure than other people
would have called a dream. The momentary repose which this forgetfulness
thus gave the body, still further fatigued the soul, for Athos lived a
double life during these wanderings of his understanding. One night,
he dreamt that Raoul was dressing himself in a tent, to go upon an
expedition commanded by M. de Beaufort in person. The young man was sad;
he clasped his cuirass slowly, and slowly he girded on his sword.

"What is the matter?" asked his father, tenderly.

"What afflicts me is the death of Porthos, ever so dear a friend,"
replied Raoul. "I suffer here the grief you soon will feel at home."

And the vision disappeared with the slumber of Athos. At daybreak one of
his servants entered his master's apartment, and gave him a letter which
came from Spain.

"The writing of Aramis," thought the comte; and he read.

"Porthos is dead!" cried he, after the first lines. "Oh! Raoul, Raoul!
thanks! thou keepest thy promise, thou warnest me!"

And Athos, seized with a mortal sweat, fainted in his bed, without any
other cause than weakness.

Chapter LVII. Athos's Vision.

When this fainting of Athos had ceased, the comte, almost ashamed of
having given way before this superior natural event, dressed himself
and ordered his horse, determined to ride to Blois, to open more certain
correspondences with either Africa, D'Artagnan, or Aramis. In fact, this
letter from Aramis informed the Comte de la Fere of the bad success
of the expedition of Belle