The queen attributed this joyous feeling to the beauty of the fete

D'Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where he could be; but soon a ray of light which penetrated through the chamber, together with the warm and perfumed air which reached him from the same aperture, the conversation of two of three ladies in language at once respectful and refined, and the word "Majesty" several times repeated, indicated clearly that he was in a closet attached to the queen's apartment. The young man waited in comparative darkness and listened.
The queen appeared cheerful and happy, which seemed to astonish the persons who surrounded her and who were accustomed to see her almost always sad and full of care. The queen attributed this joyous feeling to the beauty of the fete, to the pleasure she had experienced in the ballet; and as it is not permissible to contradict a queen, whether she smile or weep, everybody expatiated on the gallantry of the aldermen of the city of Paris.
Although D'Artagnan did not at all know the queen, he soon distinguished her voice from the others, at first by a slightly foreign accent, and next by that tone of domination naturally impressed upon all royal words. He heard her approach and withdraw from the partially open door; and twice or three times he even saw the shadow of a person intercept the light.
At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in their form and whiteness, glided through the tapestry. D'Artagnan at once comprehended that this was his recompense. He cast himself on his knees, seized the hand, and touched it respectfully with his lips. Then the hand was withdrawn, leaving in his an object which he perceived to be a ring. The door immediately closed, and D'Artagnan found himself again in complete obscurity.
D'Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it was evident that all was not yet over. After the reward of his devotion, that of his love was to come. Besides, although the ballet was danced, the evening had scarcely begun. Supper was to be served at three, and the clock of St. Jean had struck three quarters past two.
The sound of voices diminished by degrees in the adjoining chamber. The company was then heard departing; then the door of the closet in which D'Artagnan was, was opened, and Mme. Bonacieux entered.

a kick out of the way Dickie Betts

In May of 1950, the powers that be decided that the roof of the licence-plate factory ought to be resurfaced with roofing tar. They wanted it done before it got too hot up there, and they sued for volunteers for the work, which was planned to take about a week. More than seventy men spoke up, because it was outside work and May is one damn fine month for outside work. Nine or ten names were drawn out of a hat, and two of them happened to be Andy's and my own. For the next week we'd be marched out to the exercise yard after breakfast, with two guards up front and two more behind ... plus all the guards in the towers keeping a weather eye on the proceedings through their field-glasses for good measure. Four of us would be carrying a big extension ladder on those morning marches -I always got a kick out of the way Dickie Betts, who was on that job, called that sort of  ladder an extensible - and we'd put it up against the side of that low, lit building. Then we'd start bucket-brigading hot buckets of tar up to the roof. Spill that shit on you and you'd jitterbug all the way to the infirmary. There were six guards on the project, all of them picked on the basis of seniority. It was almost as good as a week's vacation, because instead of sweating it out in the laundry or the plate-shop or standing over a bunch of cons cutting pulp or brush somewhere out in the willy wags, they were having a regular May holiday in the sun, just sitting there with their backs up against the low parapet, shooting the bull back and forth. They didn't even have to keep more than half an eye on us, because the south wall sentry post was close enough so that the fellows up there could have spit their chews on us, if they’d wanted to. If anyone on the roof-sealing party had made one funny move, it would take four seconds to cut him smack in two with .45 caliber machine-gun bullets. So those screws just sat there and took their ease. All they needed was a couple of six-packs buried in crushed ice, and they would have been the lords of  all creation. One of them was a fellow named Byron Hadley, and in that year of 1950, he'd been at Shawshank longer than I had. Longer than the last two wardens put together, as a matter of fact. The fellow running the show in 1950 was a prissy-looking downcast Yankee named George Dunahy. He had a degree in penal administration. No one liked him, as far as I could tell, except the people who had gotten him his appointment. I heard that he wasn't interested in anything but compiling statistics for a book (which was later published by a small New England outfit called Light Side Press, where he probably had to pay to have it done), who won the intramural baseball championship each September, and getting a death-penalty law passed in Maine. A regular bear for the death-penalty was George Dunahy. He was fired off the job in 1953, when it came out he was running a discount auto repair service down in the prison garage and splitting the profits with Byron Hadley and Greg Stammas. Hadley and Stammas came out of that one okay - they were old hands at keeping their asses covered - but Dunahy took a walk. No one was sorry to see him go, but nobody was exactly pleased to see Greg Stammas step into his shoes, either. He was a short man with a tight, hard gut and the coldest brown eyes you ever saw. He always had a painful, pursed little grin on his face, as if he had to go to the bathroom and couldn't quite manage it. During Stammas's tenure as warden there was a lot of brutality at Shawshank, and although I have no proof, I believe there were maybe half a dozen moonlight burials in the stand of scrub forest that lies east of the prison.

a crying shortage of pretty things in the slam

They make the occasional bust, and I've done time in solitary a time or three over the years, but when it's something like posters, they wink. Live and let live. And when a big Rita Hayworth went up in some fishie's cell, the assumption was that it came in the mail from a friend or a relative. Of course all the care-packages from friends and relatives are opened and the contents inventoried, but who goes back and re-checks the inventory sheets for something as harmless as a Rita Hayworth or an Ava Gardner pin-up? When you're in a pressure-cooker you learn to live and let live or somebody will carve you a brand-new mouth just above the Adam's apple. You learn to make allowances. It was Ernie again who took the poster up to Andy's cell, 14, my own, 6. And it was Ernie who brought back the written in Andy's careful hand, just one word: Thanks.' A little while later, as they filed us out for morning chow, I glanced into his ceil and saw Rita over his bunk in all her swimsuited glory, one hand behind her head, her eyes half-closed, those soft, satiny lips parted. It was over his bunk when he could look at her nights, after lights out, in the glow of the arc sodiums in the exercise yard. But in the bright morning sunlight, there were dark slashes across her face - the shadow of the bars on his single slit-window. Now I'm going to tell you what happened in mid-May of 1950 that finally ended Andy's three-year series of skirmishes with the sisters. It was also the incident which eventually got him out of the laundry and into the library, where he filled out his work-time until he left our happy little family earlier this year. You may have noticed now much of what I've told you already is hearsay - someone saw something and told me and I told you. Well, in some cases I've simplified it even more than it really was, and have actually repeated (or will repeat) fourth- or fifth-hand information. That's the way it s here. The grapevine is very real, and you have to use it if you're going to stay ahead. Also, of course, you have to know how to pick out the grains of truth from the chaff of lies, rumours, and wish-it-had-beens. You may also have gotten the idea that I'm describing someone who's more legend than man, and I would have to agree that there's some truth to that. To us long-timers who knew Andy over a space of years, there was an element of fantasy to him, a sense, almost, of myth-magic, if you get what I mean. That story I passed on about Andy refusing to give Bogs Diamond a head-job is part of that myth, and how he kept on fighting the sisters is part of it, and how he got the library job is part of it, too ... but with one important difference: I was there and I saw what happened, and I swear on my mother's name that it's all true. The oath of a convicted murderer may not be worth much, but believe this: I don't lie. Andy and I were on fair speaking terms by then. The guy fascinated me. Looking back to the poster episode, I see there's one thing I neglected to tell you, and maybe I should. Five weeks after he hung Rita up (I'd forgotten all about it by then, and had gone on to other deals), Ernie passed a small white box through the bars of my cell. 'From Dufresne,' he said, low, and never missed a stroke with his push-broom. 'Thanks, Ernie,' I said, and slipped him half a pack of Camels. Now what the hell was this, I was wondering as I slipped the cover from the box. There was a lot of white cotton inside, and below that... I looked for a long time. For a few minutes it was like I didn't even dare touch them, they were so pretty. There's a crying shortage of pretty things in the slam, and the real pity of it is that a lot of men don't even seem to miss them. There were two pieces of quartz in that box, both of them carefully polished. They had been chipped into driftwood shapes. There were little sparkles of iron pyrites in them like flecks of gold. If they hadn't been so heavy, they would have served as a fine pair of men's cufflinks - they were that close to being a matched set. How much work went into creating those two pieces? Hours and hours after lights out, I knew that first the chipping and shaping, and then the almost endless polishing and finishing with those rock-blankets. Looking at them, I felt the warmth that any man or woman feels when he or she is looking at something pretty, something that has been worked and made - that's the thing that really separates us from the animals, I think - and I felt something else, too. A sense of awe for the man's brute persistence. But I never knew just how persistent Andy Dufresne could be until much later.

to seek redress in a public court of justice

Having thus expressed himself, he retired from the house so discontented at this demur, that he scarce knew whether he moved upon his head or heels; and the park chancing to be in his way, he sauntered about, giving vent to a soliloquy in praise of his departed friend, the burden of which was a string of incoherent curses imprecated upon himself; till his transports by degrees giving way to his reflection, he deliberated seriously and sorrowfully upon his misfortune, and resolved to consult lawyers without loss of time. But, first of all, he proposed to make personal application to the heir, who, by a candid representation of the case, might be inclined to do him justice. In consequence of this determination, he next morning put his writings in his pocket, and went in a chair to the house of the young nobleman, to whom, being admitted by virtue of his appearance, and a small gratification to the porter, he explained the whole affair, corroborating his assertions with the papers which he produced, and describing the disgrace that would be entailed upon the memory of the deceased, should he be obliged to seek redress in a public court of justice.
The executor, who was a person of good breeding, condoled him upon his loss with great good-nature, though he did not seem much surprised at his account of the matter; but wished, that, since the fraud must have been committed, the damage had fallen upon the first mortgager, who, he said, was a thievish usurer, grown rich by the distresses of his fellow-creatures. In answer to our hero’s remonstrances, he observed, that he did not look upon himself as obliged to pay the least regard to the character of his predecessor, who had used him with great barbarity and injustice, not only in excluding him from his countenance and assistance, but also in prejudicing his inheritance as much as lay in his power; so that it could not be reasonably expected that he would pay ten thousand pounds of his debt, for which he had received no value. Peregrine, in spite of his chagrin, could not help owning within himself, that there was a good deal of reason in this refusal. After having given loose to his indignation in the most violent invectives against the defunct, he took his leave of the complaisant heir, and had immediate recourse to the advice of counsel, who assured him that he had an excellent plea, and was accordingly retained in the cause.
All these measures were taken in the first vigour of his exertion, during which his spirits were so fluttered with the diversity of passions produced by his mischance, that he mistook for equanimity that which was no other than intoxication; and two whole days elapsed before he attained a due sense of his misfortune.

this short gleam of good fortune recalled the ideas of pride

Meanwhile, this short gleam of good fortune recalled the ideas of pride and ambition which he had formerly cherished. His countenance was again lifted up, his good-humour retrieved, and his mien reexalted. Indeed, he began to be considered as a rising man by his fellow-dependents, who saw the particular notice with which he was favoured at the public levee; and some of them, for that reason, were at pains to court his good graces. He no longer shunned his former intimates, with whom a good part of his fortune had been spent, but made up to them in all places of public resort, with the same ease and familiarity as he had been used to express, and even re-embarked in some of their excesses, upon the strength of his sanguine expectation. Cadwallader and he renewed their consultations in the court of ridicule; and divers exploits were achieved, to the confusion of those who had “sailed into the north of their displeasure.”
But these enjoyments were soon interrupted by a misfortune equally fatal and unexpected. His noble patron was seized with an apoplectic fit, from which he was recovered by the physicians, that they might despatch him according to rule, and in two months after they were called, he went the way of all flesh. Peregrine was very much afflicted at this event, not only on account of his friendship for the deceased, to whom he thought himself under many and great obligations, but also because he feared that his own interest would suffer a severe shock, by the removal of this nobleman, whom he considered as its chief support. He put himself therefore in mourning, out of regard to the memory of his departed friend, and exhibited genuine marks of sorrow and concern, though he had in reality more cause to grieve than he as yet imagined. When quarter-day came about, he applied to the steward of his lordship’s heir for the interest of his money, as usual; and the reader will readily own he had some reason to be surprised, when he was told he had no claim either to principal or interest. True it is, the manager talked very civilly as well as sensibly on the subject. “Your appearance, sir,” said he to Pickle, “screens you from all suspicion of an intended fraud; but the mortgage upon those lands you mention was granted to another person many years before you pretend to have lent that sum; and I have, this very morning, paid one quarter’s interest, as appears from this receipt, which you may peruse for your satisfaction.”
Peregrine was so thunderstruck at this information, which stripped him of his all, that he could not utter one word; a circumstance that did no great honour to his character in the opinion of the steward, who, in good earnest, began to entertain some doubts of his integrity. For, among the papers of the deceased, which he had examined, there was no writing, memorandum, or receipt relating to this encumbrance. After a long pause of stupefaction, Peregrine recollected himself so far as to observe, that either he was egregiously mistaken, or the predecessor of his lord the greatest villain upon earth. “But, Mr. Whatd’ycallum,” said he, “you must give me leave to tell you, that your bare assertion in this affair will by no means induce me to put up quietly with the loss of ten thousand pounds.”

by assuming a severity of aspect

When supper was ready, he in person gave notice to his guests, and, leading the lady into his apartment, seated her in an elbow-chair at the upper end of the table, squeezing her hand, and darting a most insidious glance at the same time. This abrupt behaviour he practised on the presumption that a lady of her breeding was not to be addressed with the tedious forms that must be observed in one’s advances to a person of birth and genteel education. In all probability his calculation was just, for Mrs. Hornbeck gave no signs of discontent at this sort of treatment, but, on the contrary, seemed to consider it as a proof of the young gentleman’s regard; and though she did not venture to open her mouth three times during the whole repast, she showed herself particularly well satisfied with her entertainer, by sundry sly and significant looks, while her husband’s eyes were directed another way; and divers loud peals of laughter, signifying her approbation of the sallies which he uttered in the course of their conversation.
Her spouse began to be very uneasy at the frank demeanour of his yoke-fellow, whom he endeavoured to check in her vivacity, by assuming a severity of aspect; but whether she obeyed the dictates of her own disposition, which, perhaps, was merry and unreserved, or wanted to punish Mr. Hornbeck for his jealousy of temper; certain it is, her gaiety increased to such a degree, that her husband was grievously alarmed and, incensed at her conduct, and resolved to make her sensible of his displeasure, by treading in secret upon her toes. He was, however, so disconcerted by his indignation, that he mistook his mark, and applied the sharp heel of his shoe to the side of Mr. Jolter’s foot, comprehending his little toe that was studded with an angry corn, which he invaded with such a sudden jerk, that the governor, unable to endure the torture in silence started up, and, dancing on the floor, roared hideously with repeated bellowings, to the enjoyment of Peregrine and the lady, who laughed themselves almost into convulsions at the joke. Hornbeck, confounded at the mistake he had committed, begged pardon of the injured tutor with great contrition protesting that the blow he had so unfortunately received, was intended for an ugly cur, which he thought had posted himself under the table. It was lucky for him that there was actually a dog in the room, to justify this excuse, which Jolter admitted with the tears running over his cheeks, and the economy of the table was recomposed.

The landlord mentioned everything that was eatable in the house;

Proceeds for the Capital — Takes up his Lodging at Bernay, where he is overtaken by Mr. Hornbeck, whose Head he longs to fortify.
During this day’s expedition, Mr. Jolter took an opportunity of imparting to his pupil the remarks he had made upon the industry of the French as an undeniable proof of which he bade him cast his eyes around, and observe with what care every spot of ground was cultivated, and from the fertility of that province, which is reckoned the poorest in France, conceive the wealth and affluence of the nation in general. Peregrine, amazed as well as disgusted at this infatuation, answered that what he ascribed to industry was the effect of mere wretchedness; the miserable peasants being obliged to plough up every inch of ground to satisfy their oppressive landlords, while they themselves and their cattle looked like so many images of famine; that their extreme poverty was evident from the face of the country, on which there was not one inclosure to be seen, or any other object, except scanty crops of barley and oats, which could never reward the toil of the husbandman; that their habitations were no better than paltry huts; that in twenty miles of extent not one gentleman’s house appeared; that nothing was more abject and forlorn than the attire of their country people; that the equipage of their travelling chaises was infinitely inferior to that of a dung-cart in England; and that the postilion who then drove their carriage had neither stockings to his legs, nor a shirt to his back.
The governor, finding his charge so intractable resolved to leave him in the midst of his own ignorance and prejudice, and reserve his observations for those who would pay more deference to his opinion: and indeed this resolution he had often made, and as often broken in the transports of his zeal, that frequently hurried him out of the plan of conduct which in his cooler moments he had laid down. They halted for refreshment at Montreuil, and about seven in the evening arrived at a village called Bernay, where, while they waited for fresh horses, they were informed by the landlord that the gates of Abbeville were shut every night punctually at eight o’clock, so that it would be impossible for them to get admittance. He said there was not another place of entertainment on the road where they could pass the night; and therefore, as a friend, he advised them to stay at his house, where they would find the best of accommodation, and proceed upon their journey betimes in the morning.
Mr. Jolter, though he had travelled on that road before, could not recollect whether or not mine host spoke truth; but his remonstrance being very plausible, our hero determined to follow his advice, and being conducted into an apartment, asked what they could have for supper. The landlord mentioned everything that was eatable in the house; and the whole being engrossed for the use of him and his attendants, he amused himself, till such time as it should be dressed, in strolling about the house, which stands in a very rural situation. While he thus loitered away the time that hung heavy on his hands, another chaise arrived at the inn, and upon inquiry he found that the new-comers were Mr. Hornbeck and his lady. The landlord, conscious of his inability to entertain this second company, came and begged with great humiliation that Mr. Pickle would spare them some part of the victuals he had bespoken; but he refused to part with so much as the wing of a partridge, though at the same time he sent his compliments to the strangers, and giving them to understand how ill the house was provided for their reception, invited them to partake of his supper. Mr. Hornbeck, who was not deficient in point of politeness, and extremely well disposed for a relishing meal, which he had reason to expect from the savoury steam that issued from the kitchen, could not resist this second instance of our young gentleman’s civility, which he acknowledged in a message, importing that he and his wife would do themselves the pleasure of profiting by his courteous offer. Peregrine’s cheeks glowed when he found himself on the eve of being acquainted with Mrs. Hornbeck, of whose heart he had already made a conquest in imagination; and he forthwith set his invention at work, to contrive some means of defeating her husband’s vigilance.