The procureur resumed: "I have lived without having any children, and it is probable I never shall have any, which to me is a cutting grief.

And yet I am mistaken, for I have a son, in common with my other friends; that is, M.Raoul Auguste Jules de Bragelonne, the true son of M.le Comte de la Fere.
"This young nobleman appears to me extremely worthy to succeed the valiant gentleman of whom I am the friend and very humble servant." Here a sharp sound interrupted the reader.

It was D'Artagnan's sword, which, slipping from his baldric, had fallen on the sonorous flooring.
Every one turned his eyes that way, and saw that a large tear had rolled from the thick lid of D'Artagnan, half-way down to his aquiline nose, the luminous edge of which shone like a little crescent moon.
"This is why," continued the procureur, "I have left all my property, movable, or immovable, comprised in the above enumerations, to M.le Vicomte Raoul Auguste Jules de Bragelonne, son of M.le Comte de la Fere, to console him for the grief he seems to suffer, and enable him to add more luster to his already glorious name." A vague murmur ran through the auditory.

The procureur continued, seconded by the flashing eye of D'Artagnan, which, glancing over the assembly, quickly restored the interrupted silence: "On condition that M.le Vicomte de Bragelonne do give to M.le Chevalier d'Artagnan, captain of the king's musketeers, whatever the said Chevalier d'Artagnan may demand of my property.

On condition that M.le Vicomte de Bragelonne do pay a good pension to M.le Chevalier d'Herblay, my friend, if he should need it in exile.