replied Raoul, in a firm voice; “but as you yourself invited me to wish — ”

“To wish to leave me?” said Athos.

“Oh! monsieur — can you imagine — ”

“Well, mordieu!” cried the duke, “the young vicomte is right! What can he do here? He will go moldy with grief.”

Raoul blushed, and the excitable prince continued: “War is a distraction: we gain everything by it; we can only lose one thing by it — life — then so much the worse!”

“That is to say, memory,” said Raoul, eagerly; “and that is to say, so much the better!”

He repented of