“Come here, Grimaud,” said Athos.

Grimaud got up and obeyed.

“As a punishment for having spoken without permission, my friend, you will please eat this piece of paper. Then, to recompense you for the service you will have rendered us, you shall afterwards drink this glass of wine. Here is the letter. First, chew vigorously.”

Grimaud smiled; and with his eyes fixed on the glass which Athos had just filled to the brim, he crushed the paper and swallowed it.

“Bravo, Master Grimaud!” said Athos. “And now take this. Good! I excuse you from saying ‘Thank you.”’

Grimaud silently swallowed the glass of Bordeaux wine; but his eyes, raised toward heaven during the whole time this delicious occupation lasted, spoke a language which, though mute, was none the less expressive.

“And now,” said Athos, “unless the cardinal should form the ingenious idea of ripping up Grimaud, I think we may be almost free from anxiety.”

Meantime his Eminence was continuing his melancholy ride, murmuring between his moustaches what he so often said before,

“These four men must positively be mine.”


  By PanEris using Melati.

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