Twenty Years After 14

Twenty Years After 14

"My son!" exclaimed Athos, extending his hand to D’Artagnan. This was the name which he gave him in former days, in their moments of tender intimacy. "Athos!" cried D’Artagnan, wringing his hands. "So you defend him! And I, who have sworn to take him dead or alive, I am dishonored--and by you!" "Kill me!" replied Athos, uncovering his breast, "if your honor requires my death." "Oh! woe is me! woe is me!" cried the lieutenant; "there’s only one man in the world who could stay my hand; by a fatality that very man bars my way. What shall I say to the cardinal?" "You can tell him, sir," answered a voice which was the voice of high command in the battle-field, "that he sent against me the only two men capable of getting the better of four men; of fighting man to man, without discomfiture, against the Comte de la Fere and the Chevalier d’Herblay, and of surrendering only to fifty men! "The prince!" exclaimed at the same moment Athos and Aramis, unmasking as they addressed the Duc de Beaufort, whilst D’Artagnan and Porthos stepped backward. "Fifty cavaliers!" cried the Gascon and Porthos. "Look around you, gentlemen, if you doubt the fact," said the duke. The two friends looked to the right, to the left; they were encompassed by a troop of horsemen. "Hearing the noise of the fight," resumed the duke, "I fancied you had about twenty men with you, so I came back with those around me, tired of always running away, and wishing to draw my sword in my own cause; but you are only two." "Yes, my lord; but, as you have said, two that are a match for twenty," said Athos. "Come, gentlemen, your swords," said the duke. "Our swords!" cried D’Artagnan, raising his head and regaining his self-possession. "Never!" "Never!" added Porthos. Some of the men moved toward them. "One moment, my lord," whispered Athos, and he said something in a low voice. "As you will," replied the duke. "I am too much indebted to you to refuse your first request. Gentlemen," he said to his escort, "withdraw. Monsieur d’Artagnan, Monsieur du Vallon, you are free." The order was obeyed; D’Artagnan and Porthos then found themselves in the centre of a large circle. "Now, D’Herblay," said Athos, "dismount and come here." Aramis dismounted and went to Porthos, whilst Athos approached D’Artagnan. All four once more together. "Friends!" said Athos, "do you regret you have not shed our blood?" "No," replied D’Artagnan; "I regret to see that we, hitherto united, are opposed to each other. Ah! nothing will ever go well with us hereafter!" "Oh, Heaven! No, all is over!" said Porthos. "Well, be on our side now," resumed Aramis. "Silence, D’Herblay!" cried Athos; "such proposals are not to be made to gentlemen such as these. ’Tis a matter of conscience with them, as with us." "Meantime, here we are, enemies!" said Porthos. "Gramercy! who would ever have thought it?" D’Artagnan only sighed. Athos looked at them both and took their hands in his. "Gentlemen," he said, "this is a serious business and my heart bleeds as if you had pierced it through and through. Yes, we are severed; there is the great, the distressing truth! But we have not as yet declared war; perhaps we shall have to make certain conditions, therefore a solemn conference is indispensable." "For my own part, I demand it," said Aramis. "I accept it," interposed D’Artagnan, proudly. Porthos bowed, as if in assent. "Let us choose a place of rendezvous," continued Athos, "and in a last interview arrange our mutual position and the conduct we are to maintain toward each other." "Good!" the other three exclaimed. "Well, then, the place?" "Will the Place Royale suit you?" asked D’Artagnan. "In Paris?" "Yes." Athos and Aramis looked at each other. "The Place Royale--be it so!" replied Athos. "When?" "To-morrow evening, if you like!" "At what hour?" "At ten in the evening, if that suits you; by that time we shall have returned." "Good." "There," continued Athos, "either peace or war will be decided; honor, at all events, will be maintained!" "Alas!" murmured D’Artagnan, "our honor as soldiers is lost to us forever!" "D’Artagnan," said Athos, gravely, "I assure you that you do me wrong in dwelling so upon that. What I think of is, that we have crossed swords as enemies. Yes," he continued, sadly shaking his head, "Yes, it is as you said, misfortune, indeed, has overtaken us. Come, Aramis." "And we, Porthos," said D’Artagnan, "will return, carrying our shame to the cardinal." "And tell him," cried a voice, "that I am not too old yet for a man of action." D’Artagnan recognized the voice of De Rochefort. "Can I do anything for you, gentlemen?" asked the duke. "Bear witness that we have done all that we could." "That shall be testified to, rest assured. Adieu! we shall meet soon, I trust, in Paris, where you shall have your revenge." The duke, as he spoke, kissed his hand, spurred his horse into a gallop and disappeared, followed by his troop, who were soon lost in distance and darkness. D’Artagnan and Porthos were now alone with a man who held by the bridles two horses; they thought it was Mousqueton and went up to him. "What do I see?" cried the lieutenant. "Grimaud, is it thou?" Grimaud signified that he was not mistaken. "And whose horses are these?" cried D’Artagnan. "Who has given them to us?" said Porthos. "The Comte de la Fere." "Athos! Athos!" muttered D’Artagnan; "you think of every one; you are indeed a nobleman! Whither art thou going, Grimaud?" "To join the Vicomte de Bragelonne in Flanders, your honor." They were taking the road toward Paris, when groans, which seemed to proceed from a ditch, attracted their attention. "What is that?" asked D’Artagnan. "It is I--Mousqueton," said a mournful voice, whilst a sort of shadow arose out of the side of the road. Porthos ran to him. "Art thou dangerously wounded, my dear Mousqueton?" he said. "No, sir, but I am severely." "What can we do?" said D’Artagnan; "we must return to Paris." "I will take care of Mousqueton," said Grimaud; and he gave his arm to his old comrade, whose eyes were full of tears, nor could Grimaud tell whether the tears were caused by wounds or by the pleasure of seeing him again. D’Artagnan and Porthos went on, meantime, to Paris. They were passed by a sort of courier, covered with dust, the bearer of a letter from the duke to the cardinal, giving testimony to the valor of D’Artagnan and Porthos. Mazarin had passed a very bad night when this letter was brought to him, announcing that the duke was free and that he would henceforth raise up mortal strife against him. "What consoles me," said the cardinal after reading the letter, "is that, at least, in this chase, D’Artagnan has done me one good turn--he has destroyed Broussel. This Gascon is a precious fellow; even his misadventures are of use." The cardinal referred to that man whom D’Artagnan upset at the corner of the Cimetiere Saint Jean in Paris, and who was no other than the Councillor Broussel. 27. The four old Friends prepare to meet again. Well," said Porthos, seated in the courtyard of the Hotel de la Chevrette, to D’Artagnan, who, with a long and melancholy face, had returned from the Palais Royal; "did he receive you ungraciously, my dear friend?" "I’faith, yes! a brute, that cardinal. What are you eating there, Porthos?" "I am dipping a biscuit in a glass of Spanish wine; do the same." "You are right. Gimblou, a glass of wine." "Well, how has all gone off?" "Zounds! you know there’s only one way of saying things, so I went in and said, ’My lord, we were not the strongest party.’ "’Yes, I know that,’ he said, ’but give me the particulars.’ "You know, Porthos, I could not give him the particulars without naming our friends; to name them would be to commit them to ruin, so I merely said they were fifty and we were two. "’There was firing, nevertheless, I heard,’ he said; ’and your swords--they saw the light of day, I presume?’ "’That is, the night, my lord,’ I answered. "’Ah!’ cried the cardinal, ’I thought you were a Gascon, my friend?’ "’I am a Gascon,’ said I, ’only when I succeed.’ The answer pleased him and he laughed. "’That will teach me,’ he said, ’to have my guards provided with better horses; for if they had been able to keep up with you and if each one of them had done as much as you and your friend, you would have kept your word and would have brought him back to me dead or alive.’" "Well, there’s nothing bad in that, it seems to me," said Porthos. "Oh, mon Dieu! no, nothing at all. It was the way in which he spoke. It is incredible how these biscuit soak up wine! They are veritable sponges! Gimblou, another bottle." The bottle was brought with a promptness which showed the degree of consideration D’Artagnan enjoyed in the establishment. He continued: "So I was going away, but he called me back. "’You have had three horses foundered or killed?’ he asked me. "’Yes, my lord.’ "’How much were they worth?’" "Why," said Porthos, "that was very good of him, it seems to me." "’A thousand pistoles,’ I said." "A thousand pistoles!" Porthos exclaimed. "Oh! oh! that is a large sum. If he knew anything about horses he would dispute the price." "Faith! he was very much inclined to do so, the contemptible fellow. He made a great start and looked at me. I also looked at him; then he understood, and putting his hand into a drawer, he took from it a quantity of notes on a bank in Lyons." "For a thousand pistoles?" "For a thousand pistoles--just that amount, the beggar; not one too many." "And you have them?" "They are here." "Upon my word, I think he acted very generously." "Generously! to men who had risked their lives for him, and besides had done him a great service?" "A great service--what was that?" "Why, it seems that I crushed for him a parliament councillor." "What! that little man in black that you upset at the corner of Saint Jean Cemetery?" "That’s the man, my dear fellow; he was an annoyance to the cardinal. Unfortunately, I didn’t crush him flat. It seems that he came to himself and that he will continue to be an annoyance." "See that, now!" said Porthos; "and I turned my horse aside from going plump on to him! That will be for another time." "He owed me for the councillor, the pettifogger!" "But," said Porthos, "if he was not crushed completely----" "Ah! Monsieur de Richelieu would have said, ’Five hundred crowns for the councillor.’ Well, let’s say no more about it. How much were your animals worth, Porthos?" "Ah, if poor Mousqueton were here he could tell you to a fraction." "No matter; you can tell within ten crowns." "Why, Vulcan and Bayard cost me each about two hundred pistoles, and putting Phoebus at a hundred and fifty, we should be pretty near the amount." "There will remain, then, four hundred and fifty pistoles," said D’Artagnan, contentedly. "Yes," said Porthos, "but there are the equipments." "That is very true. Well, how much for the equipments?" "If we say one hundred pistoles for the three----" "Good for the hundred pistoles; there remains, then, three hundred and fifty." Porthos made a sign of assent. "We will give the fifty pistoles to the hostess for our expenses," said D’Artagnan, "and share the three hundred." "We will share," said Porthos. "A paltry piece of business!" murmured D’Artagnan crumpling his note. "Pooh!" said Porthos, "it is always that. But tell me----" "What?" "Didn’t he speak of me in any way?" "Ah! yes, indeed!" cried D’Artagnan, who was afraid of disheartening his friend by telling him that the cardinal had not breathed a word about him; "yes, surely, he said----" "He said?" resumed Porthos. "Stop, I want to remember his exact words. He said, ’As to your friend, tell him he may sleep in peace.’" "Good, very good," said Porthos; "that signified as clear as daylight that he still intends to make me a baron." At this moment nine o’clock struck. D’Artagnan started. "Ah, yes," said Porthos, "there is nine o’clock. We have a rendezvous, you remember, at the Place Royale." "Ah! stop! hold your peace, Porthos, don’t remind me of it; ’tis that which has made me so cross since yesterday. I shall not go." "Why?" asked Porthos. "Because it is a grievous thing for me to meet again those two men who caused the failure of our enterprise." "And yet," said Porthos, "neither of them had any advantage over us. I still had a loaded pistol and you were in full fight, sword in hand." "Yes," said D’Artagnan; "but what if this rendezvous had some hidden purpose?" "Oh!" said Porthos, "you can’t think that, D’Artagnan!" D’Artagnan did not believe Athos to be capable of a deception, but he sought an excuse for not going to the rendezvous. "We must go," said the superb lord of Bracieux, "lest they should say we were afraid. We who have faced fifty foes on the high road can well meet two in the Place Royale." "Yes, yes, but they took part with the princes without apprising us of it. Athos and Aramis have played a game with me which alarms me. We discovered yesterday the truth; what is the use of going to-day to learn something else?" "You really have some distrust, then?" said Porthos. "Of Aramis, yes, since he has become an abbe. You can’t imagine, my dear fellow, the sort of man he is. He sees us on the road which leads him to a bishopric, and perhaps will not be sorry to get us out of his way." "Ah, as regards Aramis, that is another thing," said Porthos, "and it wouldn’t surprise me at all." "Perhaps Monsieur de Beaufort will try, in his turn, to lay hands on us." "Nonsense! He had us in his power and he let us go. Besides we can be on our guard; let us take arms, let Planchet post himself behind us with his carbine." "Planchet is a Frondeur," answered D’Artagnan. "Devil take these civil wars! one can no more now reckon on one’s friends than on one’s footmen," said Porthos. "Ah! if Mousqueton were here! there’s a fellow who will never desert me!" "So long as you are rich! Ah! my friend! ’tis not civil war that disunites us. It is that we are each of us twenty years older; it is that the honest emotions of youth have given place to suggestions of interest, whispers of ambition, counsels of selfishness. Yes, you are right; let us go, Porthos, but let us go well armed; were we not to keep the rendezvous, they would declare we were afraid. Halloo! Planchet! here! saddle our horses, take your carbine." "Whom are we going to attack, sir?" "No one; a mere matter of precaution," answered the Gascon. "You know, sir, that they wished to murder that good councillor, Broussel, the father of the people?" "Really, did they?" said D’Artagnan. "Yes, but he has been avenged. He was carried home in the arms of the people. His house has been full ever since. He has received visits from the coadjutor, from Madame de Longueville, and the Prince de Conti; Madame de Chevreuse and Madame de Vendome have left their names at his door. And now, whenever he wishes----" "Well, whenever he wishes?" Planchet began to sing: "Un vent de fronde S’est leve ce matin; Je crois qu’il gronde Contre le Mazarin. Un vent de fronde S’est leve ce matin." "It doesn’t surprise me," said D’Artagnan, in a low tone to Porthos, "that Mazarin would have been much better satisfied had I crushed the life out of his councillor." "You understand, then, monsieur," resumed Planchet, "that if it were for some enterprise like that undertaken against Monsieur Broussel that you should ask me to take my carbine----" "No, don’t be alarmed; but where did you get all these details?" "From a good source, sir; I heard it from Friquet." "From Friquet? I know that name----" "A son of Monsieur de Broussel’s servant, and a lad that, I promise you, in a revolt will not give away his share to the dogs." "Is he not a singing boy at Notre Dame?" asked D’Artagnan. "Yes, that is the very boy; he’s patronized by Bazin." "Ah, yes, I know." "Of what importance is this little reptile to you?" asked Porthos. "Gad!" replied D’Artagnan; "he has already given me good information and he may do the same again." Whilst all this was going on, Athos and Aramis were entering Paris by the Faubourg St. Antoine. They had taken some refreshment on the road and hastened on, that they might not fail at the appointed place. Bazin was their only attendant, for Grimaud had stayed behind to take care of Mousqueton. As they were passing onward, Athos proposed that they should lay aside their arms and military costume, and assume a dress more suited to the city. "Oh, no, dear count!" cried Aramis, "is it not a warlike encounter that we are going to?" "What do you mean, Aramis?" "That the Place Royale is the termination to the main road to Vendomois, and nothing else." "What! our friends?" "Are become our most dangerous enemies, Athos. Let us be on our guard." "Oh! my dear D’Herblay!" "Who can say whether D’Artagnan may not have betrayed us to the cardinal? who can tell whether Mazarin may not take advantage of this rendezvous to seize us?" "What! Aramis, you think that D’Artagnan, that Porthos, would lend their hands to such an infamy?" "Among friends, my dear Athos, no, you are right; but among enemies it would be only a stratagem." Athos crossed his arms and bowed his noble head. "What can you expect, Athos? Men are so made; and we are not always twenty years old. We have cruelly wounded, as you know, that personal pride by which D’Artagnan is blindly governed. He has been beaten. Did you not observe his despair on the journey? As to Porthos, his barony was perhaps dependent on that affair. Well, he found us on his road and will not be baron this time. Perhaps that famous barony will have something to do with our interview this evening. Let us take our precautions, Athos." "But suppose they come unarmed? What a disgrace to us." "Oh, never fear! besides, if they do, we can easily make an excuse; we came straight off a journey and are insurgents, too." "An excuse for us! to meet D’Artagnan with a false excuse! to have to make a false excuse to Porthos! Oh, Aramis!" continued Athos, shaking his head mournfully, "upon my soul, you make me the most miserable of men; you disenchant a heart not wholly dead to friendship. Go in whatever guise you choose; for my part, I shall go unarmed." "No, for I will not allow you to do so. ’Tis not one man, not Athos only, not the Comte de la Fere whom you will ruin by this amiable weakness, but a whole party to whom you belong and who depend upon you." "Be it so then," replied Athos, sorrowfully. And they pursued their road in mournful silence. Scarcely had they reached by the Rue de la Mule the iron gate of the Place Royale, when they perceived three cavaliers, D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Planchet, the two former wrapped up in their military cloaks under which their swords were hidden, and Planchet, his musket by his side. They were waiting at the entrance of the Rue Sainte Catharine, and their horses were fastened to the rings of the arcade. Athos, therefore, commanded Bazin to fasten up his horse and that of Aramis in the same manner. They then advanced two and two, and saluted each other politely. "Now where will it be agreeable to you that we hold our conference?" inquired Aramis, perceiving that people were stopping to look at them, supposing that they were going to engage in one of those far-famed duels still extant in the memory of the Parisians, and especially the inhabitants of the Place Royale. "The gate is shut," said Aramis, "but if these gentlemen like a cool retreat under the trees, and perfect seclusion, I will get the key from the Hotel de Rohan and we shall be well suited." D’Artagnan darted a look into the obscurity of the Place. Porthos ventured to put his head between the railings, to try if his glance could penetrate the gloom. "If you prefer any other place," said Athos, in his persuasive voice, "choose for yourselves." "This place, if Monsieur d’Herblay can procure the key, is the best that we can have," was the answer. Aramis went off at once, begging Athos not to remain alone within reach of D’Artagnan and Porthos; a piece of advice which was received with a contemptuous smile. Aramis returned soon with a man from the Hotel de Rohan, who was saying to him: "You swear, sir, that it is not so?" "Stop," and Aramis gave him a louis d’or. "Ah! you will not swear, my master," said the concierge, shaking his head. "Well, one can never say what may happen; at present we and these gentlemen are excellent friends." "Yes, certainly," added Athos and the other two. D’Artagnan had heard the conversation and had understood it. "You see?" he said to Porthos. "What do I see?" "That he wouldn’t swear." "Swear what?" "That man wanted Aramis to swear that we are not going to the Place Royale to fight." "And Aramis wouldn’t swear?" "No." "Attention, then!" Athos did not lose sight of the two speakers. Aramis opened the gate and faced around in order that D’Artagnan and Porthos might enter. In passing through the gate, the hilt of the lieutenant’s sword was caught in the grating and he was obliged to pull off his cloak; in doing so he showed the butt end of his pistols and a ray of the moon was reflected on the shining metal. "Do you see?" whispered Aramis to Athos, touching his shoulder with one hand and pointing with the other to the arms which the Gascon wore under his belt. "Alas! I do!" replied Athos, with a deep sigh. He entered third, and Aramis, who shut the gate after him, last. The two serving-men waited without; but as if they likewise mistrusted each other, they kept their respective distances. 28. The Place Royale. They proceeded silently to the centre of the Place, but as at this very moment the moon had just emerged from behind a cloud, they thought they might be observed if they remained on that spot and therefore regained the shade of the lime-trees. There were benches here and there; the four gentlemen stopped near them; at a sign from Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan sat down, the two others stood in front of them. After a few minutes of silent embarrassment, Athos spoke. "Gentlemen," he said, "our presence here is the best proof of former friendship; not one of us has failed the others at this rendezvous; not one has, therefore, to reproach himself." "Hear me, count," replied D’Artagnan; "instead of making compliments to each other, let us explain our conduct to each other, like men of right and honest hearts." "I wish for nothing more; have you any cause of complaint against me or Monsieur d’Herblay? If so, speak out," answered Athos. "I have," replied D’Artagnan. "When I saw you at your chateau at Bragelonne, I made certain proposals to you which you perfectly understood; instead of answering me as a friend, you played with me as a child; the friendship, therefore, that you boast of was not broken yesterday by the shock of swords, but by your dissimulation at your castle." "D’Artagnan!" said Athos, reproachfully. "You asked for candor and you have it. You ask what I have against you; I tell you. And I have the same sincerity to show you, if you wish, Monsieur d’Herblay; I acted in a similar way to you and you also deceived me." "Really, monsieur, you say strange things," said Aramis. "You came seeking me to make to me certain proposals, but did you make them? No, you sounded me, nothing more. Very well what did I say to you? that Mazarin was contemptible and that I wouldn’t serve Mazarin. But that is all. Did I tell you that I wouldn’t serve any other? On the contrary, I gave you to understand, I think, that I adhered to the princes. We even joked very pleasantly, if I remember rightly, on the very probable contingency of your being charged by the cardinal with my arrest. Were you a party man? There is no doubt of that. Well, why should not we, too, belong to a party? You had your secret and we had ours; we didn’t exchange them. So much the better; it proves that we know how to keep our secrets." "I do not reproach you, monsieur," said D’Artagnan; "’tis only because Monsieur de la Fere has spoken of friendship that I question your conduct." "And what do you find in it that is worthy of blame?" asked Aramis, haughtily. The blood mounted instantly to the temples of D’Artagnan, who arose, and replied: "I consider it worthy conduct of a pupil of Jesuits." On seeing D’Artagnan rise, Porthos rose also; these four men were therefore all standing at the same time, with a menacing aspect, opposite to each other. Upon hearing D’Artagnan’s reply, Aramis seemed about to draw his sword, when Athos prevented him. "D’Artagnan," he said, "you are here to-night, still infuriated by yesterday’s adventure. I believed your heart noble enough to enable a friendship of twenty years to overcome an affront of a quarter of an hour. Come, do you really think you have anything to say against me? Say it then; if I am in fault I will avow the error." The grave and harmonious tones of that beloved voice seemed to have still its ancient influence, whilst that of Aramis, which had become harsh and tuneless in his moments of ill-humor, irritated him. He answered therefore: "I think, monsieur le comte, that you had something to communicate to me at your chateau of Bragelonne, and that gentleman"--he pointed to Aramis--"had also something to tell me when I was in his convent. At that time I was not concerned in the adventure, in the course of which you have so successfully estopped me! However, because I was prudent you must not take me for a fool. If I had wished to widen the breach between those whom Monsieur d’Herblay chooses to receive with a rope ladder and those whom he receives with a wooden ladder, I could have spoken out." "What are you meddling with?" cried Aramis, pale with anger, suspecting that D’Artagnan had acted as a spy on him and had seen him with Madame de Longueville. "I never meddle save with what concerns me, and I know how to make believe that I haven’t seen what does not concern me; but I hate hypocrites, and among that number I place musketeers who are abbes and abbes who are musketeers; and," he added, turning to Porthos "here’s a gentleman who’s of the same opinion as myself." Porthos, who had not spoken one word, answered merely by a word and a gesture. He said "yes" and he put his hand on his sword. Aramis started back and drew his. D’Artagnan bent forward, ready either to attack or to stand on his defense. Athos at that moment extended his hand with the air of supreme command which characterized him alone, drew out his sword and the scabbard at the same time, broke the blade in the sheath on his knee and threw the pieces to his right. Then turning to Aramis: "Aramis," he said, "break your sword." Aramis hesitated. "It must be done," said Athos; then in a lower and more gentle voice, he added. "I wish it." Then Aramis, paler than before, but subdued by these words, snapped the serpent blade between his hands, and then folding his arms, stood trembling with rage. These proceedings made D’Artagnan and Porthos draw back. D’Artagnan did not draw his sword; Porthos put his back into the sheath. "Never!" exclaimed Athos, raising his right hand to Heaven, "never! I swear before God, who seeth us, and who, in the darkness of this night heareth us, never shall my sword cross yours, never my eye express a glance of anger, nor my heart a throb of hatred, at you. We lived together, we loved, we hated together; we shed, we mingled our blood together, and too probably, I may still add, that there may be yet a bond between us closer even than that of friendship; perhaps there may be the bond of crime; for we four, we once did condemn, judge and slay a human being whom we had not any right to cut off from this world, although apparently fitter for hell than for this life. D’Artagnan, I have always loved you as my son; Porthos, we slept six years side by side; Aramis is your brother as well as mine, and Aramis has once loved you, as I love you now and as I have ever loved you. What can Cardinal Mazarin be to us, to four men who compelled such a man as Richelieu to act as we pleased? What is such or such a prince to us, who fixed the diadem upon a great queen’s head? D’Artagnan, I ask your pardon for having yesterday crossed swords with you; Aramis does the same to Porthos; now hate me if you can; but for my own part, I shall ever, even if you do hate me, retain esteem and friendship for you. I repeat my words, Aramis, and then, if you desire it, and if they desire it, let us separate forever from our old friends." There was a solemn, though momentary silence, which was broken by Aramis. "I swear," he said, with a calm brow and kindly glance, but in a voice still trembling with recent emotion, "I swear that I no longer bear animosity to those who were once my friends. I regret that I ever crossed swords with you, Porthos; I swear not only that it shall never again be pointed at your breast, but that in the bottom of my heart there will never in future be the slightest hostile sentiment; now, Athos, come." Athos was about to retire. "Oh! no! no! do not go away!" exclaimed D’Artagnan, impelled by one of those irresistible impulses which showed the nobility of his nature, the native brightness of his character; "I swear that I would give the last drop of my blood and the last fragment of my limbs to preserve the friendship of such a friend as you, Athos--of such a man as you, Aramis." And he threw himself into the arms of Athos. "My son!" exclaimed Athos, pressing him in his arms. "And as for me," said Porthos, "I swear nothing, but I’m choked. Forsooth! If I were obliged to fight against you, I think I should allow myself to be pierced through and through, for I never loved any one but you in the wide world;" and honest Porthos burst into tears as he embraced Athos. "My friends," said Athos, "this is what I expected from such hearts as yours. Yes, I have said it and I now repeat it: our destinies are irrevocably united, although we now pursue divergent roads. I respect your convictions, and whilst we fight for opposite sides, let us remain friends. Ministers, princes, kings, will pass away like mountain torrents; civil war, like a forest flame; but we--we shall remain; I have a presentiment that we shall." "Yes," replied D’Artagnan, "let us still be musketeers, and let us retain as our battle-standard that famous napkin of the bastion St. Gervais, on which the great cardinal had three fleurs-de-lis embroidered." "Be it so," cried Aramis. "Cardinalists or Frondeurs, what matters it? Let us meet again as capital seconds in a duel, devoted friends in business, merry companions in our ancient pleasures." "And whenever," added Athos, "we meet in battle, at this word, ’Place Royale!’ let us put our swords into our left hands and shake hands with the right, even in the very lust and music of the hottest carnage." "You speak charmingly," said Porthos. "And are the first of men!" added D’Artagnan. "You excel us all." Athos smiled with ineffable pleasure. "’Tis then all settled. Gentlemen, your hands; are we not pretty good Christians?" "Egad!" said D’Artagnan, "by Heaven! yes."