The Three Musketeers

Автор

Александр Дюма

Год написания книги

2018

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“The cardinal has taken my hand! I have touched the hand of the great man!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “the great man has called me his friend!”

“Yes, my friend, yes,” said the cardinal, in that paternal tone which he was sometimes able to assume, but which only deceived those who did not know him; “and as you have been unjustly suspected, we must make you some amends. Here, take this bag of a hundred pistoles, and forgive me.”

“I forgive you, my lord!” said Bonancieux, hesitating to take the bag, from a fear that this supposed gift was only a jest. “But you were quite at liberty to have me arrested; you are quite at liberty to send me to the torture; you are quite at liberty to hang me; you are the master, and I should not have the smallest word to say against it. Forgive you, my lord! But you cannot mean that!”

“Ah! my dear M. Bonancieux, you are very generous; I see it, and I thank you. But you must take this bag, and then you will go away not very discontented—will you?”

“I go away perfectly enchanted, my lord!”

“Adieu, then; or, rather, au revoir hair; for I hope that we shall see each other again.”

“As often as my lord may please; I am at your eminence’s command.”

“It shall be often, depend upon it; for I have found your conversation quite charming.”

“Oh! my lord!”

“Farewell, till our next meeting, M. Bonancieux—till our next meeting.”

Bonancieux, at a sign from the cardinal’s hand, bowed to the very ground, and then backed himself out of the room. When he was in the anteroom, the cardinal heard him, in his enthusiasm, crying out, at the top of his voice:

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