ed one of his men to drive the
strangers to La Fere. Porthos took his seat by the side of Aramis,
whispering in his ear, "I understand."

"Ah! ah!" said Aramis, "and what do you understand, my friend?"

"We are going, on the part of the king, to make some great proposal to
Athos."

"Pooh!" said Aramis.

"You need tell me nothing about it," added the worthy Porthos,
endeavoring to place himself so as to avoid the jolting, "you need tell
me nothing, I shall guess."

"Well! do, my friend; guess away."

They arrived at Athos' dwelling about nine o'clock in the evening,
favored by a splendid moon. This cheerful light rejoiced Porthos beyond
expression; but Aramis appeared annoyed by it in an equal degree. He
could not help showing something of this to Porthos, who replied, "Ay!
ay! I guess how it is! the mission is a secret one."

These were his last words in the carriage. The driver interrupted him by
saying, "Gentlemen, you are arrived."

Porthos and his companion alighted before the gate of the little
chateau, where we are about to meet again with Athos and Bragelonne, the
latter of whom had disappeared since the discovery of the infidelity of
La Valliere. If there be one saying more true than another, it is this:
great griefs contain within themselves the germ of their consolation.
This painful wound, inflicted upon Raoul, had drawn him nearer to his
father again; and God knows how sweet were the consolations which
flowed from the eloquent mouth and generous heart of Athos. The wound
was not cicatrized, but Athos, by dint of conversing with his son and
mixing a little more of his life with that of the young man, had brought
him to understand that this pang of a first infidelity is necessary to
every human existence; and that no one has loved without meeting with
it. Raoul listened often, but never understood. Nothing replaces in the
deeply afflicted heart the remembrance and thought of the beloved
object. Raoul then replied to the reasonings of his father:

"Monsieur, all that you tell me is true; I believe that no one has
suffered in the affections of the heart so much as you have; but you are
a man too great from intelligence, and too severely tried by
misfortunes, not to allow for the weakness of the soldier who suffers
for the first time. I am paying a tribute which I shall not pay a second
time; permit me to plunge myself so deeply in my grief that I may forget
myself in it, that I may drown even my reaso