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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 370/849
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D'Artagnan
related
his
adventure
with
Mme.
Bonacieux
.
Athos
listened
to
him
without
a
frown
;
and
when
he
had
finished
,
said
,
"
Trifles
,
only
trifles
!
"
That
was
his
favorite
word
.
"
You
always
say
TRIFLES
,
my
dear
Athos
!
"
said
d'Artagnan
,
"
and
that
come
very
ill
from
you
,
who
have
never
loved
.
"
The
drink-deadened
eye
of
Athos
flashed
out
,
but
only
for
a
moment
;
it
became
as
dull
and
vacant
as
before
.
"
That
's
true
,
"
said
he
,
quietly
,
"
for
my
part
I
have
never
loved
.
"
"
Acknowledge
,
then
,
you
stony
heart
,
"
said
d'Artagnan
,
"
that
you
are
wrong
to
be
so
hard
upon
us
tender
hearts
.
"
"
Tender
hearts
!
Pierced
hearts
!
"
said
Athos
.
"
What
do
you
say
?
"
"
I
say
that
love
is
a
lottery
in
which
he
who
wins
,
wins
death
!
You
are
very
fortunate
to
have
lost
,
believe
me
,
my
dear
d'Artagnan
.
And
if
I
have
any
counsel
to
give
,
it
is
,
always
lose
!
"
"
She
seemed
to
love
me
so
!
"
