"Alexandre Dumas. Twenty Years After." - читать интересную книгу автора

The valet went out of the room, this time by the centre door, but
still as silently as before; one might have fancied him an apparition.
When he was left alone the cardinal looked at himself in the glass
with a feeling of self-satisfaction. Still young-for he was scarcely
forty-six years of age-he possessed great elegance of form and was above
the middle height; his complexion was brilliant and beautiful; his glance
full of expression; his nose, though large, was well proportioned; his
forehead broad and majestic; his hair, of a chestnut color, was curled
slightly; his beard, which was darker than his hair, was turned carefully
with a curling iron, a practice that greatly improved it. After a short
time the cardinal arranged his shoulder belt, then looked with great
complacency at his hands, which were most elegant and of which he took the
greatest care; and throwing on one side the large kid gloves tried on at
first, as belonging to the uniform, he put on others of silk only. At this
instant the door opened.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the valet-de-chambre.
An officer, as he spoke, entered the apartment. He was a man between
thirty-nine and forty years of age, of medium height but a very well
proportioned figure; with an intellectual and animated physiognomy; his
beard black, and his hair turning gray, as often happens when people have
found life either too gay or too sad, more especially when they happen to
be of swart complexion.
D'Artagnan advanced a few steps into the apartment.
How perfectly he remembered his former entrance into that very room!
Seeing, however, no one there except a musketeer of his own troop, he fixed
his eyes upon the supposed soldier, in whose dress, nevertheless, he
recognized at the first glance the cardinal.
The lieutenant remained standing in a dignified but respectful
posture, such as became a man of good birth, who had in the course of his
life been frequently in the society of the highest nobles.
The cardinal looked at him with a cunning rather than serious glance,
yet he examined his countenance with attention and after a momentary
silence said:
"You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
"I am that individual," replied the officer.
Mazarin gazed once more at a countenance full of intelligence, the
play of which had been, nevertheless, subdued by age and experience; and
D'Artagnan received the penetrating glance like one who had formerly
sustained many a searching look, very different, indeed, from those which
were inquiringly directed on him at that instant.
"Sir," resumed the cardinal, "you are to come with me, or rather, I am
to go with you."
"I am at your command, my lord," returned D'Artagnan.
"I wish to visit in person the outposts which surround the Palais
Royal; do you suppose that there is any danger in so doing?"
"Danger, my lord!" exclaimed D'Artagnan with a look of astonishment,
"what danger?"
"I am told that there is a general insurrection."
"The uniform of the king's musketeers carries a certain respect with
it, and even if that were not the case I would engage with four of my men