"Dumas, Alexandre - Three Musketeers, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dumas Alexandre)

miraculous virtue of curing all wounds that do not reach the
heart. Take advantage of all, and live happily and long. I have
but one word to add, and that is to propose an example to you--
not mine, for I myself have never appeared at court, and have
only taken part in religious wars as a volunteer; I speak of
Monsieur de Treville, who was formerly my neighbor, and who had
the honor to be, as a child, the play-fellow of our king, Louis
XIII, whom God preserve! Sometimes their play degenerated into
battles, and in these battles the king was not always the
stronger. The blows which he received increased greatly his
esteem and friendship for Monsieur de Treville. Afterward,
Monsieur de Treville fought with others: in his first journey to
Paris, five times; from the death of the late king till the young
one came of age, without reckoning wars and sieges, seven times;
and from that date up to the present day, a hundred times,
perhaps! So that in spite of edicts, ordinances, and decrees,
there he is, captain of the Musketeers; that is to say, chief of
a legion of Caesars, whom the king holds in great esteem and whom
the cardinal dreads--he who dreads nothing, as it is said. Still
further, Monsieur de Treville gains ten thousand crowns a year;
he is therefore a great noble. He began as you begin. Go to him
with this letter, and make him your model in order that you may
do as he has done."

Upon which M. d'Artagnan the elder girded his own sword round his
son, kissed him tenderly on both cheeks, and gave him his
benediction.

On leaving the paternal chamber, the young man found his mother,
who was waiting for him with the famous recipe of which the
counsels we have just repeated would necessitate frequent
employment. The adieux were on this side longer and more tender
than they had been on the other--not that M. d'Artagnan did not
love his son, who was his only offspring, but M. d'Artagnan was a
man, and he would have considered it unworthy of a man to give
way to his feelings; whereas Mme. d'Artagnan was a woman, and
still more, a mother. She wept abundantly; and--let us speak it
to the praise of M. d'Artagnan the younger--notwithstanding the
efforts he made to remain firm, as a future Musketeer ought,
nature prevailed, and he shed many tears, of which he succeeded
with great difficulty in concealing the half.

The same day the young man set forward on his journey, furnished
with the three paternal gifts, which consisted, as we have said,
of fifteen crowns, the horse, and the letter for M. de Treville--
the counsels being thrown into the bargain.

With such a VADE MECUM d'Artagnan was morally and physically an
exact copy of the hero of Cervantes, to whom we so happily
compared him when our duty of an historian placed us under the