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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 494/849
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"
Hold
your
tongue
,
you
stupid
fellow
!
"
said
the
young
man
;
"
I
am
d'Artagnan
;
do
n't
you
know
me
?
Where
is
your
master
?
"
"
You
,
Monsieur
d'Artagnan
!
"
cried
Grimaud
,
"
impossible
.
"
"
Grimaud
,
"
said
Athos
,
coming
out
of
his
apartment
in
a
dressing
gown
,
"
Grimaud
,
I
thought
I
heard
you
permitting
yourself
to
speak
?
"
"
Ah
,
monsieur
,
it
is
--
"
"
Silence
!
"
Grimaud
contented
himself
with
pointing
d'Artagnan
out
to
his
master
with
his
finger
.
Athos
recognized
his
comrade
,
and
phlegmatic
as
he
was
,
he
burst
into
a
laugh
which
was
quite
excused
by
the
strange
masquerade
before
his
eyes
--
petticoats
falling
over
his
shoes
,
sleeves
tucked
up
,
and
mustaches
stiff
with
agitation
.
"
Do
n't
laugh
,
my
friend
!
"
cried
d'Artagnan
;
"
for
heaven
's
sake
,
do
n't
laugh
,
for
upon
my
soul
,
it
's
no
laughing
matter
!
"
And
he
pronounced
these
words
with
such
a
solemn
air
and
with
such
a
real
appearance
of
terror
,
that
Athos
eagerly
seized
his
hand
,
crying
,
"
Are
you
wounded
,
my
friend
?
How
pale
you
are
!
"
"
No
,
but
I
have
just
met
with
a
terrible
adventure
!
Are
you
alone
,
Athos
?
"
