Athos nods a little and finishes his coffee, grimacing at the cold dregs and refilling his mug with brandy. His memories of the Rue Saint Jacques are still bright and fresh, etched into his mind as though he had last seen Milady only yesterday. For so long, only Madame Bonacieux has remembered that day, and he feels unexpectedly relieved to know that he is no longer quite so alone with those memories.
“It was a good scheme,” he says mildly, sipping his brandy. “Do you remember anything further?” Athos does not say about me, or for that matter, about her, though he thinks it. Perhaps it is better that a man not know his own future, but he would have to be made of stone not to wonder.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-06-08 05:57 pm (UTC)“It was a good scheme,” he says mildly, sipping his brandy. “Do you remember anything further?” Athos does not say about me, or for that matter, about her, though he thinks it. Perhaps it is better that a man not know his own future, but he would have to be made of stone not to wonder.