On seeing his old _protege_, the duke uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
"Grimaud! Good evening, Grimaud!" said he; "how goes it ?" The servant bowed profoundly, as much gratified as his noble interlocutor.
"Two old friends!" said the duke, shaking honest Grimaud's shoulder after a vigorous fashion; which was followed by another still more profound and delighted bow from Grimaud.
"But what is this, count, only one glass ?" "I should not think of drinking with your highness, unless your highness permitted me," replied Athos, with noble humility.
"_Cordieu!_ you were right to bring only one glass, we will both drink out of it, like two brothers in arms.

Begin, count." "Do me the honor," said Athos, gently putting back the glass.
"You are a charming friend," replied the Duc de Beaufort, who drank, and passed the goblet to his companion.

"But that is not all," continued he, "I am still thirsty, and I wish to do honor to this handsome young man who stands here.

I carry good luck with me, vicomte," said he to Raoul; "wish for something while drinking out of my glass, and may the black plague grab me if what you wish does not come to pass!" He held the goblet to Raoul, who hastily moistened his lips, and replied with the same promptitude: "I have wished for something, monseigneur." His eyes sparkled with a gloomy fire, and the blood mounted to his cheeks; he terrified Athos, if only with his smile.
"And what have you wished for ?" replied the duke, sinking back into his fauteuil, whilst with one hand he returned the bottle to Grimaud, and with the other gave him a purse.
"Will you promise me, monseigneur, to grant me what I wish for ?" "_Pardieu!_ That is agreed upon." "I wished, monsieur le duc, to go with you to Gigelli." Athos became pale, and was unable to conceal his agitation.

The duke looked at his friend, as if desirous to assist him to parry this unexpected blow.
"That is difficult, my dear vicomte, very difficult," added he, in a lower tone of voice.
"Pardon me, monseigneur, I have been indiscreet," replied Raoul, in a firm voice; "but as you yourself invited me to wish--" "To wish to leave me ?" said Athos.
"Oh! monsieur--can you imagine--" "Well, _mordieu!_" cried the duke, "the young vicomte is right! What can he do here?
He will go moldy with grief." Raoul blushed, and the excitable prince continued: "War is a distraction: we gain everything by it; we can only lose one thing by it--life--then so much the worse!" "That is to say, memory," said Raoul, eagerly; "and that is to say, so much the better!" He repented of having spoken so warmly when he saw Athos rise and open the window; which was, doubtless, to conceal his emotion.