My friend, the only friend I have, speak…

“What sort of a person do you take me for?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you know anything, why conceal it from me? If you do not know anything, why did you write so warningly?”
“True, true, I was very wrong, and I regret having done so, Raoul. It seems nothing to write to a friend and say ‘Come;’ but to have this friend face to face, to feel him tremble, and breathlessly and anxiously wait to hear what one hardly dare tell him, is very different.”
“Dare! I have courage enough, if you have not,” exclaimed Raoul, in despair.
“See how unjust you are, and how soon you forget you have to do with a poor wounded fellow such as your unhappy friend is. So, calm yourself, Raoul. I said to you, ‘Come’… you are here, so ask me nothing further.”
“Your object in telling me to come was your hope that I should see with my own eyes, was it not? Nay, do not hesitate, for I have seen all.”
“Oh!” exclaimed De Guiche.
“Or at least I thought…”
“There now, you see you are not sure. But if you have any doubt, my poor friend, what remains for me to do?”
“I saw Louise much agitated… Montalais in a state of bewilderment… the king…”
“The king?”
“Yes. You turn your head aside. The danger is there, the evil is there; tell me, is it not so, is it not the king?”
“I say nothing.”
“Oh! you say a thousand upon a thousand times more than nothing. Give me facts, for pity’s sake, give me proofs. My friend, the only friend I have, speak… tell me all. My heart is crushed, wounded to death; I am dying from despair.”
“If that really be so, as I see it is, indeed, dear Raoul,” replied De Guiche, “you relieve me from my difficulty, and I will tell you all, perfectly sure that I can tell you nothing but what is consoling, compared to the despair from which I now see you suffering.”
“Go on… go on; I am listening.”
“Well, then, I can only tell you what you can learn from every person you meet.”
“From every one, do you say? It is talked about, then?”
“Before you say people talk about it, learn what it is that people can talk about. I assure you solemnly that people only talk about what may, in truth, be very innocent; perhaps a walk… ”
“Ah! a walk with the king?”
“Yes, certainly, a walk with the king; and I believe the king has already very frequently before taken walks with ladies, without, on that account…”
“You would not have written to me, shall I say again, if there had been nothing unusual in this promenade.”
“I know that while the storm lasted, it would have been far better if the king had taken shelter somewhere else, than to have remained with his head uncovered before La Valliere; but the king is so very courteous and polite.”
 
Extract from The Vicomte de Bragelonne by A. Dumas Père, published in Les Bons Romans, 1862.
Translation taken from the electronic book published by Project Gutenberg.