s
for him a real voyage made by the father into Africa, to obtain more
exact information respecting his son.

Fatigued, therefore, with having traversed seas and continents, he
sought repose under one of the tents sheltered behind a rock, on the top
of which floated the white fleur-de-lised pennon. He looked for a
soldier to conduct him to the tent of M. de Beaufort. Then, while his
eye was wandering over the plain, turning on all sides, he saw a white
form appear behind the resinous myrtles. This figure was clothed in the
costume of an officer: it held in its hand a broken sword: it advanced
slowly toward Athos, who, stopping short and fixing his eyes upon it,
neither spoke nor moved, but wished to open his arms, because, in this
silent and pale officer, he had just recognized Raoul. The comte
attempted to utter a cry, but it remained stifled in his throat. Raoul,
with a gesture, directed him to be silent, placing his finger on his
lips and drawing back by degrees, without Athos being able to see his
legs move. The comte, more pale than Raoul, more trembling, followed his
son, traversing painfully briars and bushes, stones and ditches, Raoul
not appearing to touch the earth, and no obstacle impeding the lightness
of his march. The comte, whom the inequalities of the path fatigued,
soon stopped exhausted. Raoul still continued to beckon him to follow
him. The tender father, to whom love restored strength, made a last
effort, and climbed the mountain after the young man, who attracted him
by his gesture and his smile.

At length he gained the crest of the hill, and saw, thrown out in black,
upon the horizon whitened by the moon, the elongated aerial form of
Raoul. Athos stretched out his hand to get closer to his beloved son
upon the plateau, and the latter also stretched out his; but suddenly,
as if the young man had been drawn away in spite of himself, still
retreating, he left the earth, and Athos saw the clear blue sky shine
between the feet of his child and the ground of the hill. Raoul rose
insensibly into the void, still smiling, still calling with a
gesture:--he departed toward heaven. Athos uttered a cry of terrified
tenderness. He looked below again. He saw a camp destroyed, and all
those white bodies of the royal army, like so many motionless atoms.
And, then, when raising his head, he saw still, still, his son beckoning
him to ascend with him.

CHAPTER CXXXII.

THE ANGEL OF DEATH.

Athos was at