Alphonse Daudet - "Fromont and Risler, v3"

Pierre Loti - "Madame Chrysantheme, v4"

James Allen - "As A Man Thinketh"

Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne - "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, v8"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Man in the Iron Mask

A >> Alexandre Dumas, Pere >> The Man in the Iron Mask




"From which it results, then," said Porthos, "that what we have done is
of not the slightest use."

"For the moment it may be," replied the bishop, "for we have a prisoner
from whom we shall learn what our enemies are preparing to do."

"Yes, let us interrogate the prisoner," said Porthos, "and the means of
making him speak are very simple. We are going to supper; we will invite
him to join us; as he drinks he will talk."

This was done. The officer was at first rather uneasy, but became
reassured on seeing what sort of men he had to deal with. He gave,
without having any fear of compromising himself, all the details
imaginable of the resignation and departure of D'Artagnan. He explained
how, after that departure, the new leader of the expedition had ordered a
surprise upon Belle-Isle. There his explanations stopped. Aramis and
Porthos exchanged a glance that evinced their despair. No more
dependence to be placed now on D'Artagnan's fertile imagination - no
further resource in the event of defeat. Aramis, continuing his
interrogations, asked the prisoner what the leaders of the expedition
contemplated doing with the leaders of Belle-Isle.

"The orders are," replied he, "to kill _during_ combat, or hang
_afterwards_."

Porthos and Aramis looked at each other again, and the color mounted to
their faces.

"I am too light for the gallows," replied Aramis; "people like me are not
hung."

"And I am too heavy," said Porthos; "people like me break the cord."

"I am sure," said the prisoner, gallantly, "that we could have guaranteed
you the exact kind of death you preferred."

"A thousand thanks!" said Aramis, seriously. Porthos bowed.

"One more cup of wine to your health," said he, drinking himself. From
one subject to another the chat with the officer was prolonged. He was
an intelligent gentleman, and suffered himself to be led on by the charm
of Aramis's wit and Porthos's cordial _bonhomie_.

"Pardon me," said he, "if I address a question to you; but men who are in
their sixth bottle have a clear right to forget themselves a little."

"Address it!" cried Porthos; "address it!"

"Speak," said Aramis.

"Were you not, gentlemen, both in the musketeers of the late king?"

"Yes, monsieur, and amongst the best of them, if you please," said
Porthos.

"That is true; I should say even the best of all soldiers, messieurs, if
I did not fear to offend the memory of my father."

"Of your father?" cried Aramis.

"Do you know what my name is?"

"_Ma foi!_ no, monsieur; but you can tell us, and - "

"I am called Georges de Biscarrat."

"Oh!" cried Porthos, in his turn. "Biscarrat! Do you remember that
name, Aramis?"

"Biscarrat!" reflected the bishop. "It seems to me - "

"Try to recollect, monsieur," said the officer.

"_Pardieu!_ that won't take me long," said Porthos. "Biscarrat - called
Cardinal - one of the four who interrupted us on the day on which we
formed our friendship with D'Artagnan, sword in hand."

"Precisely, gentlemen."

"The only one," cried Aramis, eagerly, "we could not scratch."

"Consequently, a capital blade?" said the prisoner.

"That's true! most true!" exclaimed both friends together. "_Ma foi!_
Monsieur Biscarrat, we are delighted to make the acquaintance of such a
brave man's son."

Biscarrat pressed the hands held out by the two musketeers. Aramis
looked at Porthos as much as to say, "Here is a man who will help us,"
and without delay, - "Confess, monsieur," said he, "that it is good to
have once been a good man."

""My father always said so, monsieur."

"Confess, likewise, that it is a sad circumstance in which you find
yourself, of falling in with men destined to be shot or hung, and to
learn that these men are old acquaintances, in fact, hereditary friends."

"Oh! you are not reserved for such a frightful fate as that, messieurs
and friends!" said the young man, warmly.

"Bah! you said so yourself."

"I said so just now, when I did not know you; but now that I know you, I
say - you will evade this dismal fate, if you wish!"

"How - if we wish?" echoed Aramis, whose eyes beamed with intelligence as
he looked alternately at the prisoner and Porthos.

"Provided," continued Porthos, looking, in his turn, with noble
intrepidity, at M. Biscarrat and the bishop - "provided nothing
disgraceful be required of us."

"Nothing at all will be required of you, gentlemen," replied the officer
- "what should they ask of you? If they find you they will kill you,
that is a predetermined thing; try, then, gentlemen, to prevent their
finding you."

"I don't think I am mistaken," said Porthos, with dignity; "but it
appears evident to me that if they want to find us, they must come and
seek us here."

"In that you are perfectly right, my worthy friend," replied Aramis,
constantly consulting with his looks the countenance of Biscarrat, who
had grown silent and constrained. "You wish, Monsieur de Biscarrat, to
say something to us, to make us some overture, and you dare not - is that
true?"

"Ah! gentlemen and friends! it is because by speaking I betray the
watchword. But, hark! I hear a voice that frees mine by dominating it."

"Cannon!" said Porthos.

"Cannon and musketry, too!" cried the bishop.

On hearing at a distance, among the rocks, these sinister reports of a
combat which they thought had ceased:

"What can that be?" asked Porthos.

"Eh! _Pardieu!_" cried Aramis; "that is just what I expected."

"What is that?"

"That the attack made by you was nothing but a feint; is not that true,
monsieur? And whilst your companions allowed themselves to be repulsed,
you were certain of effecting a landing on the other side of the island."

"Oh! several, monsieur."

"We are lost, then," said the bishop of Vannes, quietly.

"Lost! that is possible," replied the Seigneur de Pierrefonds, "but we
are not taken or hung." And so saying, he rose from the table, went to
the wall, and coolly took down his sword and pistols, which he examined
with the care of an old soldier who is preparing for battle, and who
feels that life, in a great measure, depends upon the excellence and
right conditions of his arms.

At the report of the cannon, at the news of the surprise which might
deliver up the island to the royal troops, the terrified crowd rushed
precipitately to the fort to demand assistance and advice from their
leaders. Aramis, pale and downcast, between two flambeaux, showed
himself at the window which looked into the principal court, full of
soldiers waiting for orders and bewildered inhabitants imploring succor.

"My friends," said D'Herblay, in a grave and sonorous voice, "M. Fouquet,
your protector, your friend, you father, has been arrested by an order of
the king, and thrown into the Bastile." A sustained yell of vengeful
fury came floating up to the window at which the bishop stood, and
enveloped him in a magnetic field.

"Avenge Monsieur Fouquet!" cried the most excited of his hearers, "death
to the royalists!"

"No, my friends," replied Aramis, solemnly; "no, my friends; no
resistance. The king is master in his kingdom. The king is the
mandatory of God. The king and God have struck M. Fouquet. Humble
yourselves before the hand of God. Love God and the king, who have
struck M. Fouquet. But do not avenge your seigneur, do not think of
avenging him. You would sacrifice yourselves in vain - you, your
wives and children, your property, your liberty. Lay down your arms, my
friends - lay down your arms! since the king commands you so to do - and
retire peaceably to your dwellings. It is I who ask you to do so; it is
I who beg you to do so; it is I who now, in the hour of need, command you
to do so, in the name of M. Fouquet."

The crowd collected under the window uttered a prolonged roar of anger
and terror. "The soldiers of Louis XIV. have reached the island,"
continued Aramis. "From this time it would no longer be a fight betwixt
them and you - it would be a massacre. Begone, then, begone, and forget;
this time I command you, in the name of the Lord of Hosts!"

The mutineers retired slowly, submissive, silent.

"Ah! what have you just been saying, my friend?" said Porthos.

"Monsieur," said Biscarrat to the bishop, "you may save all these
inhabitants, but thus you will neither save yourself nor your friend."

"Monsieur de Biscarrat," said the bishop of Vannes, with a singular
accent of nobility and courtesy, "Monsieur de Biscarrat, be kind enough
to resume your liberty."

"I am very willing to do so, monsieur; but - "

"That would render us a service, for when announcing to the king's
lieutenant the submission of the islanders, you will perhaps obtain some
grace for us on informing him of the manner in which that submission has
been effected."

"Grace!" replied Porthos with flashing eyes, "what is the meaning of that
word?"

Aramis touched the elbow of his friend roughly, as he had been accustomed
to do in the days of their youth, when he wanted to warn Porthos that he
had committed, or was about to commit, a blunder. Porthos understood
him, and was silent immediately.

"I will go, messieurs," replied Biscarrat, a little surprised likewise at
the word "grace" pronounced by the haughty musketeer, of and to whom, but
a few minutes before, he had related with so much enthusiasm the heroic
exploits with which his father had delighted him.

"Go, then, Monsieur Biscarrat," said Aramis, bowing to him, "and at
parting receive the expression of our entire gratitude."

"But you, messieurs, you whom I think it an honor to call my friends,
since you have been willing to accept that title, what will become of you
in the meantime?" replied the officer, very much agitated at taking leave
of the two ancient adversaries of his father.

"We will wait here."

"But, _mon Dieu!_ - the order is precise and formal."

"I am bishop of Vannes, Monsieur de Biscarrat; and they no more shoot a
bishop than they hang a gentleman."

"Ah! yes, monsieur - yes, monseigneur," replied Biscarrat; "it is true,
you are right, there is still that chance for you. Then, I will depart,
I will repair to the commander of the expedition, the king's lieutenant.
Adieu! then, messieurs, or rather, to meet again, I hope."

The worthy officer, jumping upon a horse given him by Aramis, departed in
the direction of the sound of cannon, which, by surging the crowd into
the fort, had interrupted the conversation of the two friends with their
prisoner. Aramis watched the departure, and when left alone with Porthos:

"Well, do you comprehend?" said he.

"_Ma foi!_ no."

"Did not Biscarrat inconvenience you here?"

"No; he is a brave fellow."

"Yes; but the grotto of Locmaria - is it necessary all the world should
know it?"

"Ah! that is true, that is true; I comprehend. We are going to escape by
the cavern."

"If you please," cried Aramis, gayly. "Forward, friend Porthos; our boat
awaits us. King Louis has not caught us - _yet_."


Chapter XLVII:
The Grotto of Locmaria.

The cavern of Locmaria was sufficiently distant from the mole to render
it necessary for our friends to husband their strength in order to reach
it. Besides, night was advancing; midnight had struck at the fort.
Porthos and Aramis were loaded with money and arms. They walked, then,
across the heath, which stretched between the mole and the cavern,
listening to every noise, in order better to avoid an ambush. From time
to time, on the road which they had carefully left on their left, passed
fugitives coming from the interior, at the news of the landing of the
royal troops. Aramis and Porthos, concealed behind some projecting mass
of rock, collected the words that escaped from the poor people, who fled,
trembling, carrying with them their most valuable effects, and tried,
whilst listening to their complaints, to gather something from them for
their own interest. At length, after a rapid race, frequently
interrupted by prudent stoppages, they reached the deep grottoes, in
which the prophetic bishop of Vannes had taken care to have secreted a
bark capable of keeping the sea at this fine season.

"My good friend," said Porthos, panting vigorously, "we have arrived, it
seems. But I thought you spoke of three men, three servants, who were to
accompany us. I don't see them - where are they?"

"Why should you see them, Porthos?" replied Aramis. "They are certainly
waiting for us in the cavern, and, no doubt, are resting, having
accomplished their rough and difficult task."

Aramis stopped Porthos, who was preparing to enter the cavern. "Will you
allow me, my friend," said he to the giant, "to pass in first? I know
the signal I have given to these men; who, not hearing it, would be very
likely to fire upon you or slash away with their knives in the dark."

"Go on, then, Aramis; go on - go first; you impersonate wisdom and
foresight; go. Ah! there is that fatigue again, of which I spoke to
you. It has just seized me afresh."

Aramis left Porthos sitting at the entrance of the grotto, and bowing his
head, he penetrated into the interior of the cavern, imitating the cry of
the owl. A little plaintive cooing, a scarcely distinct echo, replied
from the depths of the cave. Aramis pursued his way cautiously, and soon
was stopped by the same kind of cry as he had first uttered, within ten
paces of him.

"Are you there, Yves?" said the bishop.

"Yes, monseigneur; Goenne is here likewise. His son accompanies us."

"That is well. Are all things ready?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Go to the entrance of the grottoes, my good Yves, and you will there
find the Seigneur de Pierrefonds, who is resting after the fatigue of our
journey. And if he should happen not to be able to walk, lift him up,
and bring him hither to me."

The three men obeyed. But the recommendation given to his servants was
superfluous. Porthos, refreshed, had already commenced the descent, and
his heavy step resounded amongst the cavities, formed and supported by
columns of porphyry and granite. As soon as the Seigneur de Bracieux had
rejoined the bishop, the Bretons lighted a lantern with which they were
furnished, and Porthos assured his friend that he felt as strong again as
ever.

"Let us inspect the boat," said Aramis, "and satisfy ourselves at once
what it will hold."

"Do not go too near with the light," said the patron Yves; "for as you
desired me, monseigneur, I have placed under the bench of the poop, in
the coffer you know of, the barrel of powder, and the musket-charges that
you sent me from the fort."

"Very well," said Aramis; and, taking the lantern himself, he examined
minutely all parts of the canoe, with the precautions of a man who is
neither timid nor ignorant in the face of danger. The canoe was long,
light, drawing little water, thin of keel; in short, one of those that
have always been so aptly built at Belle-Isle; a little high in its
sides, solid upon the water, very manageable, furnished with planks
which, in uncertain weather, formed a sort of deck over which the waves
might glide, so as to protect the rowers. In two well-closed coffers,
placed beneath the benches of the prow and the poop, Aramis found bread,
biscuit, dried fruits, a quarter of bacon, a good provision of water in
leathern bottles; the whole forming rations sufficient for people who did
not mean to quit the coast, and would be able to revictual, if necessity
commanded. The arms, eight muskets, and as many horse-pistols, were in
good condition, and all loaded. There were additional oars, in case of
accident, and that little sail called _trinquet_, which assists the speed
of the canoe at the same time the boatmen row, and is so useful when the
breeze is slack. When Aramis had seen to all these things, and appeared
satisfied with the result of his inspection, "Let us consult Porthos,"
said he, "to know if we must endeavor to get the boat out by the unknown
extremity of the grotto, following the descent and the shade of the
cavern, or whether it be better, in the open air, to make it slide upon
its rollers through the bushes, leveling the road of the little beach,
which is but twenty feet high, and gives, at high tide, three or four
fathoms of good water upon a sound bottom."

"It must be as you please, monseigneur," replied the skipper Yves,
respectfully; "but I don't believe that by the slope of the cavern, and
in the dark in which we shall be obliged to maneuver our boat, the road
will be so convenient as the open air. I know the beach well, and can
certify that it is as smooth as a grass-plot in a garden; the interior
of the grotto, on the contrary, is rough; without reckoning, monseigneur,
that at its extremity we shall come to the trench which leads into the
sea, and perhaps the canoe will not pass down it."

"I have made my calculation," said the bishop, "and I am certain it will
pass."

"So be it; I wish it may, monseigneur," continued Yves; "but your
highness knows very well that to make it reach the extremity of the
trench, there is an enormous stone to be lifted - that under which the
fox always passes, and which closes the trench like a door."

"It can be raised," said Porthos; "that is nothing."

"Oh! I know that monseigneur has the strength of ten men," replied Yves;
"but that is giving him a great deal of trouble."

"I think the skipper may be right," said Aramis; "let us try the open-air
passage."

"The more so, monseigneur," continued the fisherman, "that we should not
be able to embark before day, it will require so much labor, and that as
soon as daylight appears, a good _vedette_ placed outside the grotto
would be necessary, indispensable even, to watch the maneuvers of the
lighters or cruisers that are on the look-out for us."

"Yes, yes, Yves, your reasons are good; we will go by the beach."

And the three robust Bretons went to the boat, and were beginning to
place their rollers underneath it to put it in motion, when the distant
barking of dogs was heard, proceeding from the interior of the island.

Aramis darted out of the grotto, followed by Porthos. Dawn just tinted
with purple and white the waves and plain; through the dim light,
melancholy fir-trees waved their tender branches over the pebbles, and
long flights of crows were skimming with their black wings the shimmering
fields of buckwheat. In a quarter of an hour it would be clear daylight;
the wakened birds announced it to all nature. The barkings which had
been heard, which had stopped the three fishermen engaged in moving the
boat, and had brought Aramis and Porthos out of the cavern, now seemed to
come from a deep gorge within about a league of the grotto.

"It is a pack of hounds," said Porthos; "the dogs are on a scent."

"Who can be hunting at such a moment as this?" said Aramis.

"And this way, particularly," continued Porthos, "where they might expect
the army of the royalists."

"The noise comes nearer. Yes, you are right, Porthos, the dogs are on a
scent. But, Yves!" cried Aramis, "come here! come here!"

Yves ran towards him, letting fall the cylinder which he was about to
place under the boat when the bishop's call interrupted him.

"What is the meaning of this hunt, skipper?" said Porthos.

"Eh! monseigneur, I cannot understand it," replied the Breton. "It is
not at such a moment that the Seigneur de Locmaria would hunt. No, and
yet the dogs - "

"Unless they have escaped from the kennel."

"No," said Goenne, "they are not the Seigneur de Locmaria's hounds."

"In common prudence," said Aramis, "let us go back into the grotto; the
voices evidently draw nearer, we shall soon know what we have to trust
to."

They re-entered, but had scarcely proceeded a hundred steps in the
darkness, when a noise like the hoarse sigh of a creature in distress
resounded through the cavern, and breathless, rapid, terrified, a fox
passed like a flash of lightning before the fugitives, leaped over the
boat and disappeared, leaving behind its sour scent, which was
perceptible for several seconds under the low vaults of the cave.

"The fox!" cried the Bretons, with the glad surprise of born hunters.

"Accursed mischance!" cried the bishop, "our retreat is discovered."

"How so?" said Porthos; "are you afraid of a fox?"

"Eh! my friend, what do you mean by that? why do you specify the fox? It
is not the fox alone. _Pardieu!_ But don't you know, Porthos, that
after the foxes come hounds, and after hounds men?"

Porthos hung his head. As though to confirm the words of Aramis, they
heard the yelping pack approach with frightful swiftness upon the trail.
Six foxhounds burst at once upon the little heath, with mingling yelps of
triumph.

"There are the dogs, plain enough!" said Aramis, posted on the look-out
behind a chink in the rocks; "now, who are the huntsmen?"

"If it is the Seigneur de Locmaria's," replied the sailor, "he will leave
the dogs to hunt the grotto, for he knows them, and will not enter in
himself, being quite sure that the fox will come out the other side; it
is there he will wait for him."

"It is not the Seigneur de Locmaria who is hunting," replied Aramis,
turning pale in spite of his efforts to maintain a placid countenance.

"Who is it, then?" said Porthos.

"Look!"

Porthos applied his eye to the slit, and saw at the summit of a hillock a
dozen horsemen urging on their horses in the track of the dogs, shouting,
"_Taiaut! taiaut!_"

"The guards!" said he.

"Yes, my friend, the king's guards."

"The king's guards! do you say, monseigneur?" cried the Bretons, growing
pale in turn.

"With Biscarrat at their head, mounted upon my gray horse," continued
Aramis.

The hounds at the same moment rushed into the grotto like an avalanche,
and the depths of the cavern were filled with their deafening cries.

"Ah! the devil!" said Aramis, resuming all his coolness at the sight of
this certain, inevitable danger. "I am perfectly satisfied we are lost,
but we have, at least, one chance left. If the guards who follow their
hounds happen to discover there is an issue to the grotto, there is no
help for us, for on entering they must see both ourselves and our boat.
The dogs must not go out of the cavern. Their masters must not enter."

"That is clear," said Porthos.

"You understand," added Aramis, with the rapid precision of command;
"there are six dogs that will be forced to stop at the great stone under
which the fox has glided - but at the too narrow opening of which they
must be themselves stopped and killed."

The Bretons sprang forward, knife in hand. In a few minutes there was a
lamentable concert of angry barks and mortal howls - and then, silence.

"That's well!" said Aramis, coolly, "now for the masters!"

"What is to be done with them?" said Porthos.

"Wait their arrival, conceal ourselves, and kill them."

"_Kill them!_" replied Porthos.

"There are sixteen," said Aramis, "at least, at present."

"And well armed," added Porthos, with a smile of consolation.

"It will last about ten minutes," said Aramis. "To work!"

And with a resolute air he took up a musket, and placed a hunting-knife
between his teeth.

"Yves, Goenne, and his son," continued Aramis, will pass the muskets to
us. You, Porthos, will fire when they are close. We shall have brought
down, at the lowest computation, eight, before the others are aware of
anything - that is certain; then all, there are five of us, will dispatch
the other eight, knife in hand."

"And poor Biscarrat?" said Porthos.

Aramis reflected a moment - "Biscarrat first," replied he, coolly. "He
knows us."


Chapter XLVIII:
The Grotto.

In spite of the sort of divination which was the remarkable side of the
character of Aramis, the event, subject to the risks of things over which
uncertainty presides, did not fall out exactly as the bishop of Vannes
had foreseen. Biscarrat, better mounted than his companions, arrived
first at the opening of the grotto, and comprehended that fox and hounds
were one and all engulfed in it. Only, struck by that superstitious
terror which every dark and subterraneous way naturally impresses upon
the mind of man, he stopped at the outside of the grotto, and waited till
his companions should have assembled round him.

"Well!" asked the young men, coming up, out of breath, and unable to
understand the meaning of this inaction.

"Well! I cannot hear the dogs; they and the fox must all be lost in this
infernal cavern."

"They were too close up," said one of the guards, "to have lost scent all
at once. Besides, we should hear them from one side or another. They
must, as Biscarrat says, be in this grotto."

"But then," said one of the young men, "why don't they give tongue?"

"It is strange!" muttered another.

"Well, but," said a fourth, "let us go into this grotto. Does it happen
to be forbidden we should enter it?"

"No," replied Biscarrat. "Only, as it looks as dark as a wolf's mouth,
we might break our necks in it."

"Witness the dogs," said a guard, "who seem to have broken theirs."

"What the devil can have become of them?" asked the young men in chorus.
And every master called his dog by his name, whistled to him in his
favorite mode, without a single one replying to either call or whistle.