Madame followed, with an anxiety almost equal to that of the prince, every maneuver of her august husband.
Raoul, impassible, and a little disengaged by the attention of his hosts, looked from his place through the open window at the gardens and the statues which peopled them.
“Well!” cried Monsieur, all at once, with a cheerful smile; “here is an agreeable surprise, and a charming letter from M. le Prince. Look, Madame!”
The table was too large to allow the arm of the prince to reach the hand of Madame; Raoul sprang forward to be their intermediary, and did it with so good a grace as to procure a flattering acknowledgment from the princess.
“You know the contents of this letter, no doubt?” said Gaston to Raoul.
“Yes, monseigneur; M. le Prince at first gave me the message verbally, but upon reflection his highness took up his pen.”
“It is beautiful writing,” said Madame, “but I cannot read it.”
“Will you read it to Madame, M. de Bragelonne?” said the duke.
“Yes, read it, if you please, monsieur.”
Raoul began to read, Monsieur giving again all his attention. The letter was conceived in these terms: