man's side stanch that which is pouring from our
own? Does the general anguish of our fellow-creatures lessen our own
private and particular anguish? No, no, each suffers on his own account,
each struggles with his own grief, each sheds his own tears.

"And besides," he went on, "what has my life been up to the present
moment? A cold, barren, sterile arena, in which I have always fought for
others, never for myself. Sometimes for a king, sometimes for a woman.
The king has betrayed me, the woman disdained me. Miserable, unhappy
wretch that I am! Women! Can I not make all expiate the crime of one of
their sex? What does that need? To have a heart no longer, or to forget
that I ever had one; to be strong, even against weakness itself; to lean
always, even when one feels that the support is giving way. What is
needed to attain, or succeed in all that? To be young, handsome, strong,
valiant, rich. I am, or shall be, all that. But honor?" he still
continued, "and what is honor after all? A theory which every man
understands in his own way. My father tells me: 'Honor is the respect of
that which is due to others, and particularly of what is due to one's
self.' But Guiche and Manicamp, and Saint-Aignan particularly, would say
to me: 'What's honor? Honor consists in studying and yielding to the
passions and pleasures of one's king.' Honor such as that indeed, is
easy and productive enough. With honor like that I can keep my post at
the court, become a gentleman of the chamber, and accept the command of
a regiment, which may have been presented to me. With honor such as
that, I can be both duke and peer.

"The stain which that woman has just stamped upon me, the grief with
which she has just broken my heart, the heart of the friend and playmate
of her childhood, in no way affect M. de Bragelonne, an excellent
officer, a courageous leader, who will cover himself with glory at the
first encounter, and who will become a hundred times greater than
Mademoiselle de la Valliere is to-day, the mistress of the king, for the
king will not marry her--and the more publicly he will proclaim her as
his mistress, the thicker will become the bandage of shame which he
casts in her face, in the guise of a crown; and in proportion as others
will despise her, as I despise her, I shall be gaining honors in the
field. Alas! we had walked together side by side, she and I, during the
earliest, the brightest, and best portion of our existence, hand in