The Three Musketeers
May. 17th, 2008 07:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levity"And yet, while I'm still in the world, I'd have liked to talk with you about yourself and our friends."
"And I'd have liked to talk about you too," said d'Artagnan, "But you seem so detached from everything: love means nothing to you, your friends are shadows, and the world is a tomb."
"Alas, you'll discover that for yourself."
"Then let's not talk about it anymore, and let's burn your letter. It probably has nothing to tell you except that your seamstress or your chambermaid has been unfaithful to you again."
"What letter?" cried Aramis.
"A letter that came for you while you were gone. I took it to bring to you."
"Who's it from?"
"Some tearful servant or heartbroken seamstress, I suppose. Or maybe it's Madame de Chevreuse's chambermaid; if so, she must have had to go back to Tours with her mistress, and she probably thought she'd make herself more attractive to you by writing on perfumed paper and sealing her letter with a duchess's coronet."
"What..."
"I seem to have lost it," d'Artagnan said treacherously, pretending to search his pockets for the letter. "Well, it doesn't matter, since the world is a tomb, men and women are shadows, and love means nothing to you."
"D'Artagnan! You're killing me!"
"Ah, here it is."
D'Artagnan took the letter from his pocket. Aramis snatched it out of his hand and read it, devoured it. His face became radiant.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan!" he cried out almost deliriously. "She was forced to go back to Tours, she's not unfaithful to me, she still loves me! Come, my friend, let me embrace you! I'm bursting with happiness!"
And the two friends began dancing around a volume of the works of the venerable Saint Chrysostom, trampling the pages of the thesis that had fallen on the floor.
Bazin came in with the spinach and the omelet.
"Get out, you dreary fool!" Aramis said, throwing his skullcap at him. "Take that hideous vegetable and repulsive omelet back where they came from and order a larded hare, a fat capon, a leg of mutton with garlic, and four bottles of old Burgundy!"
Bazin stared at his master, so shocked and bewildered that he dropped the spinach and the omelet.
"Now's the time to devote your life to the King of Kings," said d'Artagnan, "if you want to do it properly, because, as you said yourself, Non inutile est desiderium in oblatione."
"Go to the devil with your Latin! Let's drink, d'Artagnan, because I've got a powerful thirst, and while we're drinking, you can tell me what's been going on in Paris."
"And I'd have liked to talk about you too," said d'Artagnan, "But you seem so detached from everything: love means nothing to you, your friends are shadows, and the world is a tomb."
"Alas, you'll discover that for yourself."
"Then let's not talk about it anymore, and let's burn your letter. It probably has nothing to tell you except that your seamstress or your chambermaid has been unfaithful to you again."
"What letter?" cried Aramis.
"A letter that came for you while you were gone. I took it to bring to you."
"Who's it from?"
"Some tearful servant or heartbroken seamstress, I suppose. Or maybe it's Madame de Chevreuse's chambermaid; if so, she must have had to go back to Tours with her mistress, and she probably thought she'd make herself more attractive to you by writing on perfumed paper and sealing her letter with a duchess's coronet."
"What..."
"I seem to have lost it," d'Artagnan said treacherously, pretending to search his pockets for the letter. "Well, it doesn't matter, since the world is a tomb, men and women are shadows, and love means nothing to you."
"D'Artagnan! You're killing me!"
"Ah, here it is."
D'Artagnan took the letter from his pocket. Aramis snatched it out of his hand and read it, devoured it. His face became radiant.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan!" he cried out almost deliriously. "She was forced to go back to Tours, she's not unfaithful to me, she still loves me! Come, my friend, let me embrace you! I'm bursting with happiness!"
And the two friends began dancing around a volume of the works of the venerable Saint Chrysostom, trampling the pages of the thesis that had fallen on the floor.
Bazin came in with the spinach and the omelet.
"Get out, you dreary fool!" Aramis said, throwing his skullcap at him. "Take that hideous vegetable and repulsive omelet back where they came from and order a larded hare, a fat capon, a leg of mutton with garlic, and four bottles of old Burgundy!"
Bazin stared at his master, so shocked and bewildered that he dropped the spinach and the omelet.
"Now's the time to devote your life to the King of Kings," said d'Artagnan, "if you want to do it properly, because, as you said yourself, Non inutile est desiderium in oblatione."
"Go to the devil with your Latin! Let's drink, d'Artagnan, because I've got a powerful thirst, and while we're drinking, you can tell me what's been going on in Paris."
