“Beware, Raoul! What you are now saying is serious.”
“I know it is, monsieur; as I said, I will wait.”
“Until I die?” said Athos, much agitated.
“Oh! monsieur,” cried Raoul, with tears in his eyes, “is it possible that you should wound my heart thus? I have never given you cause of complaint!”
“Dear boy, that is true,” murmured Athos, pressing his lips violently together to conceal the emotion of which he was no longer master. “No, I will no longer afflict you; only I do not comprehend what you mean by waiting. Will you wait till you love no longer?”
“Ah! for that!—no, monsieur. I will wait till you change your opinion.”
“I should wish to put the matter to a test, Raoul; I should like to see if Mademoiselle de la Valliere will wait as you do.”
“I hope so, monsieur.”
“But take care, Raoul! suppose she did not wait? Ah, you are so young, so confiding, so loyal! Women are changeable.”
“You have never spoken ill to me of women, monsieur; you have never had to complain of them; why should you doubt of Mademoiselle de la Valliere?”