But De Winter did not call; crushed, enfeebled, he remained standing and with listening ear; then only when he had heard the step of the horse going away he fell back on a chair, saying:
“My God, I thank Thee that he knows me only.”
Chapter XLI.
Paternal Affection.
Whilst this terrible scene was passing at Lord de Winter’s, Athos, seated near his window, his elbow on the table and his head supported on his hand, was listening intently to Raoul’s account of the adventures he met with on his journey and the details of the battle.
Listening to the relation of those emotions so fresh and pure, the fine, noble face of Athos betrayed indescribable pleasure; he inhaled the tones of that young voice, as harmonious music. He forgot all that was dark in the past and that was cloudy in the future. It almost seemed as if the return of this much loved boy had changed his fears to hopes. Athos was happy—happy as he had never been before.
“And you assisted and took part in this great battle, Bragelonne!” cried the former musketeer.
“Yes, sir.”
“And it was a fierce one?”
“His highness the prince charged eleven times in person.”
“He is a great commander, Bragelonne.”