My Dear Count, wrote the Prince in his large, bad, schoolboys hand,- a great misfortune has struck us amid a great triumph. The King loses one of the bravest of soldiers; I lose a friend; you lose M. de Bragelonne.
He has died gloriously, and so gloriously that I have not the strength to weep as I could wish.
Receive my sad compliments, my dear Count. Heaven distributes trials according to the greatness of our hearts. This trial is very great, but not above your courage.
Your good friend,
Le Duc De Beaufort.
The letter contained a relation written by one of the Princes secretaries. It was the most touching recital, and the most true, of that dismal episode which destroyed two lives. DArtagnan, accustomed to battle emotions, and with a heart armed against tenderness, could not hel
