rder to insure success, the duke was ready to spend a million; while
the Marechal de Gramont had only allowed his son sixty thousand francs.
So Buckingham laughed and spent his money. Guiche groaned in despair,
and would have shown it more violently, had it not been for the advice
De Bragelonne gave him.

"A million!" repeated De Guiche daily; "I must submit. Why will not the
marechal advance me a portion of my patrimony?"

"Because you would throw it away," said Raoul.

"What can that matter to him? If I am to die of it, I shall die of it,
and then I shall need nothing further."

"But what need is there to die?" said Raoul.

"I do not wish to be conquered in elegance by an Englishman."

"My dear count," said Manicamp, "elegance is not a costly commodity, it
is only a very difficult accomplishment."

"Yes, but difficult things cost a good deal of money, and I have only
got sixty thousand francs."

"A very embarrassing state of things, truly," said De Wardes; "even if
you spent as much as Buckingham, there is only nine hundred and forty
thousand francs difference."

"Where am I to find them?"

"Get into debt."

"I am in debt already."

"A greater reason for getting further."

Advice like this resulted in De Guiche becoming excited to such an
extent that he committed extravagances where Buckingham only incurred
expenses. The rumor of this extravagant profuseness delighted the
hearts of all the shopkeepers in Paris; from the hotel of the Duke of
Buckingham to that of the Comte de Gramont nothing but miracles was
attempted. While all this was going on, Madame was resting herself, and
Bragelonne was engaged in writing to Mademoiselle de la Valliere. He had
already dispatched four letters, and not an answer to any one of them
had been received, when, on the very morning fixed for the marriage
ceremony, which was to take place in the chapel at the Palais Royal,
Raoul, who was dressing, heard his valet announce M. de Malicorne. "What
can this Malicorne want with me?" thought Raoul; and then said to his
valet, "Let him wait."

"It is a gentleman from Blois," said the valet.

"Admit him at once," said Raoul, eagerly.

Malicorne entered as brilliant as a star, and wearing a superb sword at
his side. After having saluted Raoul most gracefully, he said: "M. de
Bragelonne, I am the bearer of a thousand compliments from a lady to
you."

Raoul colored. "From a lady," said he, "from a lady of Blois?"

"Yes, monsi