pale, his head uncovered, and his manner full of seriousness; he gave his cloak and hat to the lackey, dismissed him with a gesture, and sat down near Raoul.
“Well, monsieur,” inquired the young man, “are you convinced yet?”
“I am, Raoul; the king loves Mademoiselle de la Valliere.”
“He confesses it, then?” cried Raoul.
“Yes,” replied Athos.
“And she?”
“I have not seen her.”
“No; but the king spoke to you about her. What did he say?”
“He says that she loves him.”