We hope that the reader has not quite forgotten the youngtraveler whom we left on the road to Flanders.

In losing sight of his guardian, whom he had quitted, gazingafter him in front of the royal basilican, Raoul spurred onhis horse, in order not only to escape from his ownmelancholy reflections, but also to hide from Olivain theemotion his face might betray.

One hour's rapid progress, however, sufficed to disperse thegloomy fancies that had clouded the young man's brightanticipations; and the hitherto unfelt pleasure of freedom- a pleasure which is sweet even to those who have neverknown dependence - seemed to Raoul to gild not only Heavenand earth, but especially that blue but dim horizon of lifewe call the future.

Nevertheless, after several attempts at conversation withOlivain he foresaw that many days passed thus would proveexceedingly dull; and the count's agreeable voice, hisgentle and persuasive eloquence, recurred to his mind at thevarious towns through which they journeyed and about whichhe had no longer any one to give him those interestingdetails which he would have drawn from Athos, the mostamusing and the best informed of guides. Anotherrecollection contributed also to sadden Raoul: on theirarrival at Sonores he had perceived, hidden behind a screenof poplars, a little chateau which so vividly recalled thatof La Valliere to his mind that he halted for nearly tenminutes to gaze at it, and resumed his journey with a sightoo abstracted even to reply to Olivain's respectful inquiryabout the cause of so much fixed attention. The aspect ofexternal objects is often a mysterious guide communicatingwith the fibres of memory, which in spite of us will arousethem at times; this thread, like that of Ariadne, when onceunraveled will conduct one through a labyrinth of thought,in which one loses one's self in endeavoring to follow thatphantom of the past which is called recollection.

Now the sight of this chateau had taken Raoul back fiftyleagues westward and had caused him to review his life fromthe moment when he had taken leave of little Louise to thatin which he had seen her for the first time; and everybranch of oak, every gilded weathercock on roof of slates,reminded him that, instead of returning to the friends ofhis childhood, every instant estranged him further and thatperhaps he had even left them forever.

With a full heart and burning head he desired Olivain tolead on the horses to a wayside inn, which he observedwithin gunshot range, a little in advance of the place theyhad reached.

As for himself, he dismounted and remained under a beautifulgroup of chestnuts in flower, amidst which were murmuring amultitude of happy bees, and bade Olivain send the host tohim with writing paper and ink, to be placed on a tablewhich he found there, conveniently ready. Olivain obeyed andcontinued on his way, whilst Raoul remained sitting, withhis elbow leaning on the table, from time to time gentlyshaking the flowers from his head, which fell upon him likesnow, and gazing vaguely on the charming landscape spreadout before him, dotted over with green fields and groups oftrees. Raoul had been there about ten minutes, during fiveof which he was lost in reverie, when there appeared withinthe circle comprised in his rolling gaze a man with arubicund face, who, with a napkin around his body, anotherunder his arm, and a white cap upon his head, approachedhim, holding paper, pen and ink in hand.

"Ha! ha!" laughed the apparition, "every gentleman seems tohave the same fancy, for not a quarter of an hour ago ayoung lad, well mounted like you, as tall as you and ofabout your age, halted before this clump of trees and hadthis table and this chair brought here, and dined here, withan old gentleman who seemed to be his tutor, upon a pie, ofwhich they haven't left a mouthful, and two bottles of Maconwine, of which they haven't left a drop, but fortunately wehave still some of the same wine and some of the same piesleft, and if your worship will but give your orders - - "

"No, friend " replied Raoul, smiling, "I am obliged to you,but at this moment I want nothing but the things for which Ihave asked - only I shall be very glad if the ink proveblack and the pen good; upon these conditions I will pay forthe pen the price of the bottle, and for the ink the priceof the pie."

"Very well, sir," said the host, "I'll give the pie and thebottle of wine to your servant, and in this way you willhave the pen and ink into the bargain."

"Do as you like," said Raoul, who was beginning hisapprenticeship with that particular class of society, who,when there were robbers on the highroads, were connectedwith them, and who, since highwaymen no longer exist, haveadvantageously and aptly filled their vacant place.

The host, his mind at ease about his bill, placed pen, inkand paper upon the table. By a lucky chance the pen wastolerably good and Raoul began to write. The host remainedstanding in front of him, looking with a kind of involuntaryadmiration at his handsome face, combining both gravity andsweetness of expression. Beauty has always been and alwayswill be all-powerful.

"He's not a guest like the other one here just now,"observed mine host to Olivain, who had rejoined his masterto see if he wanted anything, "and your young master has noappetite."

"My master had appetite enough three days ago, but what canone do? he lost it the day before yesterday."

And Olivain and the host took their way together toward theinn, Olivain, according to the custom of serving-men wellpleased with their place, relating to the tavern-keeper allthat he could say in favor of the young gentleman; whilstRaoul wrote on thus:

"Sir, - After a four hours' march I stop to write to you,for I miss you every moment, and I am always on the point ofturning my head as if to reply when you speak to me. I wasso bewildered by your departure and so overcome with griefat our separation, that I am sure I was able to but veryfeebly express all the affection and gratitude I feel towardyou. You will forgive me, sir, for your heart is of such agenerous nature that you can well understand all that haspassed in mine. I entreat you to write to me, for you form apart of my existence, and, if I may venture to tell you so,I also feel anxious. It seemed to me as if you were yourselfpreparing for some dangerous undertaking, about which I didnot dare to question you, since you told me nothing. I have,therefore, as you see, great need of hearing from you. Nowthat you are no longer beside me I am afraid every moment oferring. You sustained me powerfully, sir, and I protest toyou that to-day I feel very lonely. Will you have thegoodness, sir, should you receive news from Blois, to sendme a few lines about my little friend Mademoiselle de laValliere, about whose health, when we left, so much anxietywas felt? You can understand, honored and dear guardian, howprecious and indispensable to me is the remembrance of theyears that I have passed with you. I hope that you willsometimes, too, think of me, and if at certain hours youshould miss me, if you should feel any slight regret at myabsence, I shall be overwhelmed with joy at the thought thatyou appreciate my affection for and my devotion to yourself,and that I have been able to prove them to you whilst I hadthe happiness of diving with you."

After finishing this letter Raoul felt more composed; helooked well around him to see if Olivain and the host mightnot be watching him, whilst he impressed a kiss upon thepaper, a mute and touching caress, which the heart of Athosmight well divine on opening the letter.

During this time Olivain had finished his bottle and eatenhis pie; the horses were also refreshed. Raoul motioned tothe host to approach, threw a crown upon the table, mountedhis horse, and posted his letter at Senlis. The rest thathad been thus afforded to men and horses enabled them tocontinue their journey at a good round pace. At Verberie,Raoul desired Olivain to make some inquiry about the youngman who was preceding them; he had been observed to passonly three-quarters of an hour previously, but he was wellmounted, as the tavern-keeper had already said, and rode ata rapid pace.

"Let us try and overtake this gentleman," said Raoul toOlivain; "like ourselves he is on his way to join the armyand may prove agreeable company."

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when Raoularrived at Compiegne; there he dined heartily and againinquired about the young gentleman who was in advance ofthem. He had stopped, like Raoul, at the Hotel of the Belland Bottle, the best at Compiegne; and had started again onhis journey, saying that he should sleep at Noyon.

"Well, let us sleep at Noyon," said Raoul.

"Sir," replied Olivain, respectfully, "allow me to remarkthat we have already much fatigued the horses this morning.I think it would be well to sleep here and to start againvery early to-morrow. Eighteen leagues is enough for thefirst stage."

"The Comte de la Fere wished me to hasten on," repliedRaoul, "that I might rejoin the prince on the morning of thefourth day; let us push on, then, to Noyon; it will be astage similar to those we traveled from Blois to Paris. Weshall arrive at eight o'clock. The horses will have a longnight's rest, and at five o'clock to-morrow morning we canbe again on the road."

Olivain dared offer no opposition to this determination buthe followed his master, grumbling.

"Go on, go on," said he, between his teeth, "expend yourardor the first day; to-morrow, instead of journeying twentyleagues, you will travel ten, the day after to-morrow, five,and in three days you will be in bed. There you must rest;young people are such braggarts."

It was easy to see that Olivain had not been taught in theschool of the Planchets and the Grimauds. Raoul really felttired, but he was desirous of testing his strength, and,brought up in the principles of Athos and certain of havingheard him speak a thousand times of stages of twenty-fiveleagues, he did not wish to fall far short of his model.D'Artagnan, that man of iron, who seemed to be made of nerveand muscle only, had struck him with admiration. Therefore,in spite of Olivain's remarks, he continued to urge hissteed more and more, and following a pleasant little path,leading to a ferry, and which he had been assured shortenedthe journey by the distance of one league, he arrived at thesummit of a hill and perceived the river flowing before him.A little troop of men on horseback were waiting on the edgeof the stream, ready to embark. Raoul did not doubt this wasthe gentleman and his escort; he called out to him, but theywere too distant to be heard; then, in spite of theweariness of his beast, he made it gallop but the risingground soon deprived him of all sight of the travelers, andwhen he had again attained a new height, the ferryboat hadleft the shore and was making for the opposite bank. Raoul,seeing that he could not arrive in time to cross the ferrywith the travelers, halted to wait for Olivain. At thismoment a shriek was heard that seemed to come from theriver. Raoul turned toward the side whence the cry hadsounded, and shaded his eyes from the glare of the settingsun with his hand.

"Olivain!" he exclaimed, "what do I see below there?"

A second scream, more piercing than the first, now sounded.

"Oh, sir!" cried Olivain, "the rope which holds theferryboat has broken and the boat is drifting. But what do Isee in the water - something struggling?"

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Raoul, fixing his glance on one pointin the stream, splendidly illumined by the setting sun, "ahorse, a rider!"

"They are sinking!" cried Olivain in his turn.

It was true, and Raoul was convinced that some accident hadhappened and that a man was drowning; he gave his horse itshead, struck his spurs into its sides, and the animal, urgedby pain and feeling that he had space open before him,bounded over a kind of paling which inclosed the landingplace, and fell into the river, scattering to a distancewaves of white froth.

"Ah, sir!" cried Olivain, "what are you doing? Good God!"

Raoul was directing his horse toward the unhappy man indanger. This was, in fact, a custom familiar to him. Havingbeen brought up on the banks of the Loire, he might havebeen said to have been cradled on its waves; a hundred timeshe had crossed it on horseback, a thousand times had swumacross. Athos, foreseeing the period when he should make asoldier of the viscount, had inured him to all kinds ofarduous undertakings.

"Oh, heavens!" continued Olivain, in despair, "what wouldthe count say if he only saw you now!"

"The count would do as I do," replied Raoul, urging hishorse vigorously forward.

"But I - but I," cried Olivain, pale and disconsolaterushing about on the shore, "how shall I cross?"

"Leap, coward!" cried Raoul, swimming on; then addressingthe traveler, who was struggling twenty yards in front ofhim: "Courage, sir!" said he, "courage! we are coming toyour aid."

Olivain advanced, retired, then made his horse rear - turned it and then, struck to the core by shame, leaped, asRaoul had done, only repeating:

"I am a dead man! we are lost!"

In the meantime, the ferryboat had floated away, carrieddown by the stream, and the shrieks of those whom itcontained resounded more and more. A man with gray hair hadthrown himself from the boat into the river and was swimmingvigorously toward the person who was drowning; but beingobliged to go against the current he advanced but slowly.Raoul continued his way and was visibly gaining ground; butthe horse and its rider, of whom he did not lose sight, wereevidently sinking. The nostrils of the horse were no longerabove water, and the rider, who had lost the reins instruggling, fell with his head back and his arms extended.One moment longer and all would disappear.

"Courage!" cried Raoul, "courage!"

"Too late!" murmured the young man, "too late!"

The water closed above his head and stifled his voice.

Raoul sprang from his horse, to which he left the charge ofits own preservation, and in three or four strokes was atthe gentleman's side; he seized the horse at once by thecurb and raised its head above water; the animal began tobreathe again and, as if he comprehended that they had cometo his aid, redoubled his efforts. Raoul at the same timeseized one of the young man's hands and placed it on themane, which it grasped with the tenacity of a drowning man.Thus, sure that the rider would not release his hold, Raoulnow only directed his attention to the horse, which heguided to the opposite bank, helping it to cut through thewater and encouraging it with words.

All at once the horse stumbled against a ridge and thenplaced its foot on the sand.

"Saved!" exclaimed the man with gray hair, who also touchedbottom.

"Saved!" mechanically repeated the young gentleman,releasing the mane and sliding from the saddle into Raoul'sarms; Raoul was but ten yards from the shore; there he borethe fainting man, and laying him down upon the grass,unfastened the buttons of his collar and unhooked hisdoublet. A moment later the gray-headed man was beside him.Olivain managed in his turn to land, after crossing himselfrepeatedly; and the people in the ferryboat guidedthemselves as well as they were able toward the bank, withthe aid of a pole which chanced to be in the boat.

Thanks to the attentions of Raoul and the man whoaccompanied the young gentleman, the color graduallyreturned to the pale cheeks of the dying man, who opened hiseyes, at first entirely bewildered, but who soon fixed hisgaze upon the person who had saved him.

"Ah, sir," he exclaimed, "it was you! Without you I was adead man - thrice dead."

"But one recovers, sir, as you perceive," replied Raoul,"and we have but had a little bath."

"Oh! sir, what gratitude I feel!" exclaimed the man withgray hair.

"Ah, there you are, my good D'Arminges; I have given you agreat fright, have I not? but it is your own fault. You weremy tutor, why did you not teach me to swim?"

"Oh, monsieur le comte," replied the old man, "had anymisfortune happened to you, I should never have dared toshow myself to the marshal again."

"But how did the accident happen?" asked Raoul.

"Oh, sir, in the most natural way possible," replied he towhom they had given the title of count. "We were about athird of the way across the river when the cord of theferryboat broke. Alarmed by the cries and gestures of theboatmen, my horse sprang into the water. I cannot swim, anddared not throw myself into the river. Instead of aiding themovements of my horse, I paralyzed them; and I was justgoing to drown myself with the best grace in the world, whenyou arrived just in time to pull me out of the water;therefore, sir, if you will agree, henceforward we arefriends until death."

"Sir," replied Raoul, bowing, "I am entirely at yourservice, I assure you."

"I am called the Count de Guiche," continued the young man;"my father is the Marechal de Grammont; and now that youknow who I am, do me the honor to inform me who you are."

"I am the Viscount de Bragelonne," answered Raoul, blushingat being unable to name his father, as the Count de Guichehad done.

"Viscount, your countenance, your goodness and your courageincline me toward you; my gratitude is already due. Shakehands - I crave your friendship."

"Sir," said Raoul, returning the count's pressure of thehand, "I like you already, from my heart; pray regard me asa devoted friend, I beseech you."

And now, where are you going, viscount?" inquired De Guiche.

"To join the army, under the prince, count."

"And I, too!" exclaimed the young man, in a transport ofjoy. "Oh, so much the better, we will fire the first shottogether."

"It is well; be friends," said the tutor; "young as you bothare, you were perhaps born under the same star and weredestined to meet. And now," continued he, "you must changeyour clothes; your servants, to whom I gave directions themoment they had left the ferryboat, ought to be already atthe inn. Linen and wine are both being warmed; come."

The young men had no objection to this proposition; on thecontrary, they thought it very timely.

They mounted again at once, whilst looks of admirationpassed between them. They were indeed two elegant horsemen,with figures slight and upright, noble faces, bright andproud looks, loyal and intelligent smiles.

De Guiche might have been about eighteen years of age, buthe was scarcely taller than Raoul, who was only fifteen.