The young man heard these words and bent so forward over the rock that
one might have supposed he was about to precipitate himself from it.
"Yes, it is I, my uncle--I, the son of Milady--I, the monk--I, the
secretary and friend of Cromwell--I know you now, both you and your
companions."
In that boat sat three men, unquestionably brave, whose courage no man
would have dared dispute; nevertheless, at that voice, that accent and
those gestures, they felt a chill access of terror cramp their veins. As
for Grimaud, his hair stood on end and drops of sweat ran down his brow.
"Ah!" exclaimed Aramis, "that is the nephew, the monk, and the son of
Milady, as he says himself."
"Alas, yes," murmured De Winter.
"Then wait," said Aramis; and with the terrible coolness which on
important occasions he showed, he took one of the muskets from Tony,
shouldered and aimed it at the young man, who stood, like the accusing
angel, upon the rock.
"Fire!" cried Grimaud, unconsciously.
Athos threw himself on the muzzle of the gun and arrested the shot which
was about to be fired.
"The devil take you," said Aramis. "I had him so well at the point of my
gun I should have sent a ball into his breast."
"It is enough to have killed the mother," said Athos, hoarsely.
"The mother was a wretch, who struck at us all and at those dear to us."
"Yes, but the son has done us no harm."
Grimaud, who had risen to watch the effect of the shot, fell back
hopeless, wringing his hands.
The young man burst into a laugh.
"Ah, it is certainly you!" he cried. "I know you even better now."
His mocking laugh and threatening words passed over their heads, carried
by the breeze, until lost in the depths of the horizon. Aramis
shuddered.
"Be calm," exclaimed Athos, "for Heaven’s sake! have we ceased to be
men?"
"No," said Aramis, "but that fellow is a fiend; and ask the uncle
whether I was wrong to rid him of his dear nephew."
De Winter only replied by a groan.
"It was all up with him," continued Aramis; "ah I much fear that with
all your wisdom such mercy yet will prove supernal folly."
Athos took Lord de Winter’s hand and tried to turn the conversation.
"When shall we land in England?" he asked; but De Winter seemed not to
hear his words and made no reply.
"Hold, Athos," said Aramis, "perhaps there is yet time. See if he is
still in the same place."
Athos turned around with an effort; the sight of the young man was
evidently painful to him, and there he still was, in fact, on the rock,
the beacon shedding around him, as it were, a doubtful aureole.
"Decidedly, Aramis," said Athos, "I think I was wrong not to let you
fire."
"Hold your tongue," replied Aramis; "you would make me weep, if such a
thing were possible."
At this moment they were hailed by a voice from the sloop and a few
seconds later men, servants and baggage were aboard. The captain was
only waiting for his passengers; hardly had they put foot on deck ere
her head was turned towards Hastings, where they were to disembark. At
this instant the three friends turned, in spite of themselves, a last
look on the rock, upon the menacing figure which pursued them and now
stood out with a distinctness still. Then a voice reached them once
more, sending this threat: "To our next meeting, sirs, in England."
44. Te Deum for the Victory of Lens.
The bustle which had been observed by Henrietta Maria and for which she
had vainly sought to discover a reason, was occasioned by the battle of
Lens, announced by the prince’s messenger, the Duc de Chatillon, who had
taken such a noble part in the engagement; he was, besides, charged to
hang five and twenty flags, taken from the Lorraine party, as well as
from the Spaniards, upon the arches of Notre Dame.
Such news was decisive; it destroyed, in favor of the court, the
struggle commenced with parliament. The motive given for all the taxes
summarily imposed and to which the parliament had made opposition, was
the necessity of sustaining the honor of France and the uncertain hope
of beating the enemy. Now, since the affair of Nordlingen, they had
experienced nothing but reverses; the parliament had a plea for calling
Mazarin to account for imaginary victories, always promised, ever
deferred; but this time there really had been fighting, a triumph and a
complete one. And this all knew so well that it was a double victory for
the court, a victory at home and abroad; so that even when the young
king learned the news he exclaimed, "Ah, gentlemen of the parliament, we
shall see what you will say now!" Upon which the queen had pressed the
royal child to her heart, whose haughty and unruly sentiments were in
such harmony with her own. A council was called on the same evening, but
nothing transpired of what had been decided on. It was only known that
on the following Sunday a Te Deum would be sung at Notre Dame in honor
of the victory of Lens.
The following Sunday, then, the Parisians arose with joy; at that period
a Te Deum was a grand affair; this kind of ceremony had not then been
abused and it produced a great effect. The shops were deserted, houses
closed; every one wished to see the young king with his mother, and the
famous Cardinal Mazarin whom they hated so much that no one wished to be
deprived of his presence. Moreover, great liberty prevailed throughout
the immense crowd; every opinion was openly expressed and chorused, so
to speak, of coming insurrection, as the thousand bells of all the Paris
churches rang out the Te Deum. The police belonging to the city being
formed by the city itself, nothing threatening presented itself to
disturb this concert of universal hatred or freeze the frequent scoffs
of slanderous lips.
Nevertheless, at eight o’clock in the morning the regiment of the
queen’s guards, commanded by Guitant, under whom was his nephew
Comminges, marched publicly, preceded by drums and trumpets, filing off
from the Palais Royal as far as Notre Dame, a manoeuvre which the
Parisians witnessed tranquilly, delighted as they were with military
music and brilliant uniforms.
Friquet had put on his Sunday clothes, under the pretext of having a
swollen face which he had managed to simulate by introducing a handful
of cherry kernels into one side of his mouth, and had procured a whole
holiday from Bazin. On leaving Bazin, Friquet started off to the Palais
Royal, where he arrived at the moment of the turning out of the regiment
of guards; and as he had only gone there for the enjoyment of seeing it
and hearing the music, he took his place at their head, beating the drum
on two pieces of slate and passing from that exercise to that of the
trumpet, which he counterfeited quite naturally with his mouth in a
manner which had more than once called forth the praises of amateurs of
imitative harmony.
This amusement lasted from the Barriere des Sergens to the place of
Notre Dame, and Friquet found in it very real enjoyment; but when at
last the regiment separated, penetrated the heart of the city and placed
itself at the extremity of the Rue Saint Christophe, near the Rue
Cocatrix, in which Broussel lived, then Friquet remembered that he had
not had breakfast; and after thinking in which direction he had better
turn his steps in order to accomplish this important act of the day, he
reflected deeply and decided that Councillor Broussel should bear the
cost of this repast.
In consequence he took to his heels, arrived breathlessly at the
councillor’s door, and knocked violently.
His mother, the councillor’s old servant, opened it.
"What doest thou here, good-for-nothing?" she said, "and why art thou
not at Notre Dame?"
"I have been there, mother," said Friquet, "but I saw things happen of
which Master Broussel ought to be warned, and so with Monsieur Bazin’s
permission--you know, mother, Monsieur Bazin, the verger--I came to
speak to Monsieur Broussel."
"And what hast thou to say, boy, to Monsieur Broussel?"
"I wish to tell him," replied Friquet, screaming with all his might,
"that there is a whole regiment of guards coming this way. And as I hear
everywhere that at the court they are ill-disposed to him, I wish to
warn him, that he may be on his guard."
Broussel heard the scream of the young oddity, and, enchanted with this
excess of zeal, came down to the first floor, for he was, in truth,
working in his room on the second.
"Well," said he, "friend, what matters the regiment of guards to us, and
art thou not mad to make such a disturbance? Knowest thou not that it is
the custom of these soldiers to act thus and that it is usual for the
regiment to form themselves into two solid walls when the king goes by?"
Friquet counterfeited surprise, and twisting his new cap around in his
fingers, said:
"It is not astonishing for you to know it, Monsieur Broussel, who knows
everything; but as for me, by holy truth, I did not know it and I
thought I would give you good advice; you must not be angry with me for
that, Monsieur Broussel."
"On the contrary, my boy, on the contrary, I am pleased with your zeal.
Dame Nanette, look for those apricots which Madame de Longueville sent
to us yesterday from Noisy and give half a dozen of them to your son,
with a crust of new bread."
"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you, Monsieur Broussel," said Friquet; "I am
so fond of apricots!"
Broussel then proceeded to his wife’s room and asked for breakfast; it
was nine o’clock. The councillor placed himself at the window; the
street was completely deserted, but in the distance was heard, like the
noise of the tide rushing in, the deep hum of the populous waves
increasing now around Notre Dame.
This noise redoubled when D’Artagnan, with a company of musketeers,
placed himself at the gates of Notre Dame to secure the service of the
church. He had instructed Porthos to profit by this opportunity to see
the ceremony; and Porthos, in full dress, mounted his finest horse,
taking the part of supernumerary musketeer, as D’Artagnan had so often
done formerly. The sergeant of this company, a veteran of the Spanish
wars, had recognized Porthos, his old companion, and very soon all those
who served under him were placed in possession of startling facts
concerning the honor of the ancient musketeers of Treville. Porthos had
not only been well received by the company, but he was moreover looked
on with great admiration.
At ten o’clock the guns of the Louvre announced the departure of the
king, and then a movement, similar to that of trees in a stormy wind
that bend and writhe with agitated tops, ran though the multitude, which
was compressed behind the immovable muskets of the guard. At last the
king appeared with the queen in a gilded chariot. Ten other carriages
followed, containing the ladies of honor, the officers of the royal
household, and the court.
"God save the king!" was the cry in every direction; the young monarch
gravely put his head out of the window, looked sufficiently grateful and
even bowed; at which the cries of the multitude were renewed.
Just as the court was settling down in the cathedral, a carriage,
bearing the arms of Comminges, quitted the line of the court carriages
and proceeded slowly to the end of the Rue Saint Christophe, now
entirely deserted. When it arrived there, four guards and a police
officer, who accompanied it, mounted into the heavy machine and closed
the shutters; then through an opening cautiously made, the policeman
began to watch the length of the Rue Cocatrix, as if he was waiting for
some one.
All the world was occupied with the ceremony, so that neither the
chariot nor the precautions taken by those who were within it had been
observed. Friquet, whose eye, ever on the alert, could alone have
discovered them, had gone to devour his apricots upon the entablature of
a house in the square of Notre Dame. Thence he saw the king, the queen
and Monsieur Mazarin, and heard the mass as well as if he had been on
duty.
Toward the end of the service, the queen, seeing Comminges standing near
her, waiting for a confirmation of the order she had given him before
quitting the Louvre, said in a whisper:
"Go, Comminges, and may God aid you!"
Comminges immediately left the church and entered the Rue Saint
Christophe. Friquet, seeing this fine officer thus walk away, followed
by two guards, amused himself by pursuing them and did this so much the
more gladly as the ceremony ended at that instant and the king remounted
his carriage.
Hardly had the police officer observed Comminges at the end of the Rue
Cocatrix when he said one word to the coachman, who at once put his
vehicle into motion and drove up before Broussel’s door. Comminges
knocked at the door at the same moment, and Friquet was waiting behind
Comminges until the door should be opened.
"What dost thou there, rascal?" asked Comminges.
"I want to go into Master Broussel’s house, captain," replied Friquet,
in that wheedling way the "gamins" of Paris know so well how to assume
when necessary.
"And on what floor does he live?" asked Comminges.
"In the whole house," said Friquet; "the house belongs to him; he
occupies the second floor when he works and descends to the first to
take his meals; he must be at dinner now; it is noon."
"Good," said Comminges.
At this moment the door was opened, and having questioned the servant
the officer learned that Master Broussel was at home and at dinner.
Broussel was seated at the table with his family, having his wife
opposite to him, his two daughters by his side, and his son, Louvieres,
whom we have already seen when the accident happened to the
councillor--an accident from which he had quite recovered--at the bottom
of the table. The worthy man, restored to perfect health, was tasting
the fine fruit which Madame de Longueville had sent to him.
At sight of the officer Broussel was somewhat moved, but seeing him bow
politely he rose and bowed also. Still, in spite of this reciprocal
politeness, the countenances of the women betrayed a certain amount of
uneasiness; Louvieres became very pale and waited impatiently for the
officer to explain himself.
"Sir," said Comminges, "I am the bearer of an order from the king."
"Very well, sir," replied Broussel, "what is this order?" And he held
out his hand.
"I am commissioned to seize your person, sir," said Comminges, in the
same tone and with the same politeness; "and if you will believe me you
had better spare yourself the trouble of reading that long letter and
follow me."
A thunderbolt falling in the midst of these good people, so peacefully
assembled there, would not have produced a more appalling effect. It was
a horrible thing at that period to be imprisoned by the enmity of the
king. Louvieres sprang forward to snatch his sword, which stood against
a chair in a corner of the room; but a glance from the worthy Broussel,
who in the midst of it all did not lose his presence of mind, checked
this foolhardy action of despair. Madame Broussel, separated by the
width of the table from her husband, burst into tears, and the young
girls clung to their father’s arms.
"Come, sir," said Comminges, "make haste; you must obey the king."
"Sir," said Broussel, "I am in bad health and cannot give myself up a
prisoner in this state; I must have time."
"It is impossible," said Comminges; "the order is strict and must be put
into execution this instant."
"Impossible!" said Louvieres; "sir, beware of driving us to despair."
"Impossible!" cried a shrill voice from the end of the room.
Comminges turned and saw Dame Nanette, her eyes flashing with anger and
a broom in her hand.
"My good Nanette, be quiet, I beseech you," said Broussel.
"Me! keep quiet while my master is being arrested! he, the support, the
liberator, the father of the people! Ah! well, yes; you have to know me
yet. Are you going?" added she to Comminges.
The latter smiled.
"Come, sir," said he, addressing Broussel, "silence that woman and
follow me."
"Silence me! me! me!" said Nanette. "Ah! yet one wants some one besides
you for that, my fine king’s cockatoo! You shall see." And Dame Nanette
sprang to the window, threw it open, and in such a piercing voice that
it might have been heard in the square of Notre Dame:
"Help!" she screamed, "my master is being arrested; the Councillor
Broussel is being arrested! Help!"
"Sir," said Comminges, "declare yourself at once; will you obey or do
you intend to rebel against the king?"
"I obey, I obey, sir!" cried Broussel, trying to disengage himself from
the grasp of his two daughters and by a look restrain his son, who
seemed determined to dispute authority.
"In that case," commanded Comminges, "silence that old woman."
"Ah! old woman!" screamed Nanette.
And she began to shriek more loudly, clinging to the bars of the window:
"Help! help! for Master Broussel, who is arrested because he has
defended the people! Help!"
Comminges seized the servant around the waist and would have dragged her
from her post; but at that instant a treble voice, proceeding from a
kind of entresol, was heard screeching:
"Murder! fire! assassins! Master Broussel is being killed! Master
Broussel is being strangled."
It was Friquet’s voice; and Dame Nanette, feeling herself supported,
recommenced with all her strength to sound her shrilly squawk.
Many curious faces had already appeared at the windows and the people
attracted to the end of the street began to run, first men, then groups,
and then a crowd of people; hearing cries and seeing a chariot they
could not understand it; but Friquet sprang from the entresol on to the
top of the carriage.
"They want to arrest Master Broussel!" he cried; "the guards are in the
carriage and the officer is upstairs!"
The crowd began to murmur and approached the house. The two guards who
had remained in the lane mounted to the aid of Comminges; those who were
in the chariot opened the doors and presented arms.
"Don’t you see them?" cried Friquet, "don’t you see? there they are!"
The coachman turning around, gave Friquet a slash with his whip which
made him scream with pain.
"Ah! devil’s coachman!" cried Friquet, "you’re meddling too! Wait!"
And regaining his entresol he overwhelmed the coachman with every
projectile he could lay hands on.
The tumult now began to increase; the street was not able to contain the
spectators who assembled from every direction; the crowd invaded the
space which the dreaded pikes of the guards had till then kept clear
between them and the carriage. The soldiers, pushed back by these living
walls, were in danger of being crushed against the spokes of the wheels
and the panels of the carriages. The cries which the police officer
repeated twenty times: "In the king’s name," were powerless against this
formidable multitude--seemed, on the contrary, to exasperate it still
more; when, at the shout, "In the name of the king," an officer ran up,
and seeing the uniforms ill-treated, he sprang into the scuffle sword in
hand, and brought unexpected help to the guards. This gentleman was a
young man, scarcely sixteen years of age, now white with anger. He
leaped from his charger, placed his back against the shaft of the
carriage, making a rampart of his horse, drew his pistols from their
holsters and fastened them to his belt, and began to fight with the back
sword, like a man accustomed to the handling of his weapon.
During ten minutes he alone kept the crowd at bay; at last Comminges
appeared, pushing Broussel before him.
"Let us break the carriage!" cried the people.
"In the king’s name!" cried Comminges.
"The first who advances is a dead man!" cried Raoul, for it was in fact
he, who, feeling himself pressed and almost crushed by a gigantic
citizen, pricked him with the point of his sword and sent him howling
back.
Comminges, so to speak, threw Broussel into the carriage and sprang in
after him. At this moment a shot was fired and a ball passed through the
hat of Comminges and broke the arm of one of the guards. Comminges
looked up and saw amidst the smoke the threatening face of Louvieres
appearing at the window of the second floor.
"Very well, sir," said Comminges, "you shall hear of this anon."
"And you of me, sir," said Louvieres; "and we shall see then who can
speak the loudest."
Friquet and Nanette continued to shout; the cries, the noise of the shot
and the intoxicating smell of powder produced their usual maddening
effects.
"Down with the officer! down with him!" was the cry.
"One step nearer," said Comminges, putting down the sashes, that the
interior of the carriage might be well seen, and placing his sword on
his prisoner’s breast, "one step nearer, and I kill the prisoner; my
orders were to carry him off alive or dead. I will take him dead, that’s
all."
A terrible cry was heard, and the wife and daughters of Broussel held up
their hands in supplication to the people; the latter knew that this
officer, who was so pale, but who appeared so determined, would keep his
word; they continued to threaten, but they began to disperse.
"Drive to the palace," said Comminges to the coachman, who was by then
more dead than alive.
The man whipped his animals, which cleared a way through the crowd; but
on arriving on the Quai they were obliged to stop; the carriage was
upset, the horses carried off, stifled, mangled by the crowd. Raoul, on
foot, for he had not time to mount his horse again, tired, like the
guards, of distributing blows with the flat of his sword, had recourse
to its point. But this last and dreaded resource served only to
exasperate the multitude. From time to time a shot from a musket or the
blade of a rapier flashed among the crowd; projectiles continued to hail
down from the windows and some shots were heard, the echo of which,
though they were probably fired in the air, made all hearts vibrate.
Voices, unheard except on days of revolution, were distinguished; faces
were seen that only appeared on days of bloodshed. Cries of "Death!
death to the guards! to the Seine with the officer!" were heard above
all the noise, deafening as it was. Raoul, his hat in ribbons, his face
bleeding, felt not only his strength but also his reason going; a red
mist covered his sight, and through this mist he saw a hundred
threatening arms stretched over him, ready to seize upon him when he
fell. The guards were unable to help any one--each one was occupied with
his self-preservation. All was over; carriages, horses, guards, and
perhaps even the prisoner were about to be torn to shreds, when all at
once a voice well known to Raoul was heard, and suddenly a great sword
glittered in the air; at the same time the crowd opened, upset, trodden
down, and an officer of the musketeers, striking and cutting right and
left, rushed up to Raoul and took him in his arms just as he was about
to fall.
"God’s blood!" cried the officer, "have they killed him? Woe to them if
it be so!"
And he turned around, so stern with anger, strength and threat, that the
most excited rebels hustled back on one another, in order to escape, and
some of them even rolled into the Seine.
"Monsieur d’Artagnan!" murmured Raoul.
"Yes, ’sdeath! in person, and fortunately it seems for you, my young
friend. Come on, here, you others," he continued, rising in his
stirrups, raising his sword, and addressing those musketeers who had not
been able to follow his rapid onslaught. "Come, sweep away all that for
me! Shoulder muskets! Present arms! Aim----"
At this command the mountain of populace thinned so suddenly that
D’Artagnan could not repress a burst of Homeric laughter.
"Thank you, D’Artagnan," said Comminges, showing half of his body
through the window of the broken vehicle, "thanks, my young friend; your
name--that I may mention it to the queen."
Raoul was about to reply when D’Artagnan bent down to his ear.
"Hold your tongue," said he, "and let me answer. Do not lose time,
Comminges," he continued; "get out of the carriage if you can and make
another draw up; be quick, or in five minutes the mob will be on us
again with swords and muskets and you will be killed. Hold! there’s a
carriage coming over yonder."
Then bending again to Raoul, he whispered: "Above all things do not
divulge your name."
"That’s right. I will go," said Comminges; "and if they come back,
fire!"
"Not at all--not at all," replied D’Artagnan; "let no one move. On the
contrary, one shot at this moment would be paid for dearly to-morrow."
Comminges took his four guards and as many musketeers and ran to the
carriage, from which he made the people inside dismount, and brought
them to the vehicle which had upset. But when it was necessary to convey
the prisoner from one carriage to the other, the people, catching sight
of him whom they called their liberator, uttered every imaginable cry
and knotted themselves once more around the vehicle.
"Start, start!" said D’Artagnan. "There are ten men to accompany you. I
will keep twenty to hold in check the mob; go, and lose not a moment.
Ten men for Monsieur de Comminges."
As the carriage started off the cries were redoubled and more than ten
thousand people thronged the Quai and overflowed the Pont Neuf and
adjacent streets. A few shots were fired and one musketeer was wounded.
"Forward!" cried D’Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting his
moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men and dispersed them in
fear. One man alone remained in his place, gun in hand.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "it is thou who wouldst have him assassinated? Wait
an instant." And he pointed his gun at D’Artagnan, who was riding toward
him at full speed. D’Artagnan bent down to his horse’s neck, the young
man fired, and the ball severed the feathers from the hat. The horse
started, brushed against the imprudent man, who thought by his strength
alone to stay the tempest, and he fell against the wall. D’Artagnan
pulled up his horse, and whilst his musketeers continued to charge, he
returned and bent with drawn sword over the man he had knocked down.
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Raoul, recognizing the young man as having seen him
in the Rue Cocatrix, "spare him! it is his son!"
D’Artagnan’s arm dropped to his side. "Ah, you are his son!" he said;
"that is a different thing."
"Sir, I surrender," said Louvieres, presenting his unloaded musket to
the officer.
"Eh, no! do not surrender, egad! On the contrary, be off, and quickly.
If I take you, you will be hung!"
The young man did not wait to be told twice, but passing under the
horse’s head disappeared at the corner of the Rue Guenegaud.
"I’faith!" said D’Artagnan to Raoul, "you were just in time to stay my
hand. He was a dead man; and on my honor, if I had discovered that it
was his son, I should have regretted having killed him."
"Ah! sir!" said Raoul, "allow me, after thanking you for that poor
fellow’s life, to thank you on my own account. I too, sir, was almost
dead when you arrived."
"Wait, wait, young man; do not fatigue yourself with speaking. We can
talk of it afterward."
Then seeing that the musketeers had cleared the Quai from the Pont Neuf
to the Quai Saint Michael, he raised his sword for them to double their
speed. The musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom
D’Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared.
"Halloo!" cried D’Artagnan; "has something fresh happened?"
"Eh, sir!" replied the sergeant, "their vehicle has broken down a second
time; it really must be doomed."
"They are bad managers," said D’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders. "When
a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong. The carriage in which a
Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able to bear ten thousand men."
"What are your commands, lieutenant?"
"Take the detachment and conduct him to his place."
"But you will be left alone?"
"Certainly. So you suppose I have need of an escort? Go."
The musketeers set off and D’Artagnan was left alone with Raoul.
"Now," he said, "are you in pain?"
"Yes; my head is not only swimming but burning."
"What’s the matter with this head?" said D’Artagnan, raising the
battered hat. "Ah! ah! a bruise."
"Yes, I think I received a flower-pot upon my head."
"Brutes!" said D’Artagnan. "But were you not on horseback? you have
spurs."
"Yes, but I got down to defend Monsieur de Comminges and my horse was
taken away. Here it is, I see."
At this very moment Friquet passed, mounted on Raoul’s horse, waving his
parti-colored cap and crying, "Broussel! Broussel!"
"Halloo! stop, rascal!" cried D’Artagnan. "Bring hither that horse."
Friquet heard perfectly, but he pretended not to do so and tried to
continue his road. D’Artagnan felt inclined for an instant to pursue
Master Friquet, but not wishing to leave Raoul alone he contented
himself with taking a pistol from the holster and cocking it.
Friquet had a quick eye and a fine ear. He saw D’Artagnan’s movement,
heard the sound of the click, and stopped at once.
"Ah! it is you, your honor," he said, advancing toward D’Artagnan; "and
I am truly pleased to meet you."
D’Artagnan looked attentively at Friquet and recognized the little
chorister of the Rue de la Calandre.
"Ah! ’tis thou, rascal!" said he, "come here: so thou hast changed thy
trade; thou art no longer a choir boy nor a tavern boy; thou hast become
a horse stealer?"
"Ah, your honor, how can you say so?" exclaimed Friquet. "I was seeking
the gentleman to whom this horse belongs--an officer, brave and handsome
as a youthful Caesar;" then, pretending to see Raoul for the first time:
"Ah! but if I mistake not," continued he, "here he is; you won’t forget
the boy, sir."
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
"What are you about?" asked D’Artagnan.
"To give ten francs to this honest fellow," replied Raoul, taking a
pistole from his pocket.
"Ten kicks on his back!" said D’Artagnan; "be off, you little villain,
and forget not that I have your address."
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply, bounded off like a
gazelle up the Quai a la Rue Dauphine, and disappeared. Raoul mounted
his horse, and both leisurely took their way to the Rue Tiquetonne.
D’Artagnan watched over the youth as if he had been his own son.
They arrived without accident at the Hotel de la Chevrette.
The handsome Madeleine announced to D’Artagnan that Planchet had
returned, bringing Mousqueton with him, who had heroically borne the
extraction of the ball and was as well as his state would permit.
D’Artagnan desired Planchet to be summoned, but he had disappeared.
"Then bring some wine," said D’Artagnan. "You are much pleased with
yourself," said he to Raoul when they were alone, "are you not?"
"Well, yes," replied Raoul. "It seems to me I did my duty. I defended
the king."
"And who told you to defend the king?"
"The Comte de la Fere himself."
"Yes, the king; but to-day you have not fought for the king, you have
fought for Mazarin; which is not quite the same thing."
"But you yourself?"
"Oh, for me; that is another matter. I obey my captain’s orders. As for
you, your captain is the prince, understand that rightly; you have no
other. But has one ever seen such a wild fellow," continued he, "making
himself a Mazarinist and helping to arrest Broussel! Breathe not a word
of that, or the Comte de la Fere will be furious."
"You think the count will be angry with me?"
"Think it? I’m certain of it; were it not for that, I should thank you,
for you have worked for us. However, I scold you instead of him, and in
his place; the storm will blow over more easily, believe me. And
moreover, my dear child," continued D’Artagnan, "I am making use of the
privilege conceded to me by your guardian."
"I do not understand you, sir," said Raoul.
D’Artagnan rose, and taking a letter from his writing-desk, presented it
to Raoul. The face of the latter became serious when he had cast his
eyes upon the paper.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" he said, raising his fine eyes to D’Artagnan, moist with
tears, "the count has left Paris without seeing me?"
"He left four days ago," said D’Artagnan.
"But this letter seems to intimate that he is about to incur danger,
perhaps death."
"He--he--incur danger of death! No, be not anxious; he is traveling on
business and will return ere long. I hope you have no repugnance to
accept me as your guardian in the interim."
"Oh, no, Monsieur d’Artagnan," said Raoul, "you are such a brave
gentleman and the Comte de la Fere has so much affection for you!"
"Eh! Egad! love me too; I will not torment you much, but only on
condition that you become a Frondist, my young friend, and a hearty
Frondist, too."
"But can I continue to visit Madame de Chevreuse?"
"I should say you could! and the coadjutor and Madame de Longueville;
and if the worthy Broussel were there, whom you so stupidly helped
arrest, I should tell you to excuse yourself to him at once and kiss him
on both cheeks."
"Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand you."
"It is unnecessary for you to understand. Hold," continued D’Artagnan,
turning toward the door, which had just opened, "here is Monsieur du
Vallon, who comes with his coat torn."
"Yes, but in exchange," said Porthos, covered with perspiration and
soiled by dust, "in exchange, I have torn many skins. Those wretches
wanted to take away my sword! Deuce take ’em, what a popular commotion!"
continued the giant, in his quiet manner; "but I knocked down more than
twenty with the hilt of Balizarde. A draught of wine, D’Artagnan."
"Oh, I’ll answer for you," said the Gascon, filling Porthos’s glass to
the brim; "but when you have drunk, give me your opinion."
"Upon what?" asked Porthos.
"Look here," resumed D’Artagnan; "here is Monsieur de Bragelonne, who
determined at all risks to aid the arrest of Broussel and whom I had
great difficulty to prevent defending Monsieur de Comminges."
"The devil!" said Porthos; "and his guardian, what would he have said to
that?"
"Do you hear?" interrupted D’Artagnan; "become a Frondist, my friend,
belong to the Fronde, and remember that I fill the count’s place in
everything;" and he jingled his money.
"Will you come?" said he to Porthos.
"Where?" asked Porthos, filling a second glass of wine.
"To present our respects to the cardinal."
Porthos swallowed the second glass with the same grace with which he had
imbibed the first, took his beaver and followed D’Artagnan. As for
Raoul, he remained bewildered with what he had seen, having been
forbidden by D’Artagnan to leave the room until the tumult was over.
45. The Beggar of St. Eustache.
D’Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the Palais Royal
he would give Comminges time to arrive before him, and consequently to
make the cardinal acquainted with the eminent services which he,
D’Artagnan, and his friend had rendered to the queen’s party in the
morning.
They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid them numerous
compliments, and announced that they were more than half on their way to
obtain what they desired, namely, D’Artagnan his captaincy, Porthos his
barony.
D’Artagnan would have preferred money in hand to all that fine talk, for
he knew well that to Mazarin it was easy to promise and hard to perform.
But, though he held the cardinal’s promises as of little worth, he
affected to be completely satisfied, for he was unwilling to discourage
Porthos.
Whilst the two friends were with the cardinal, the queen sent for him.
Mazarin, thinking that it would be the means of increasing the zeal of
his two defenders if he procured them personal thanks from the queen,
motioned them to follow him. D’Artagnan and Porthos pointed to their
dusty and torn dresses, but the cardinal shook his head.
"Those costumes," he said, "are of more worth than most of those which
you will see on the backs of the queen’s courtiers; they are costumes of
battle."
D’Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. The court of Anne of Austria was full of
gayety and animation; for, after having gained a victory over the
Spaniard, it had just gained another over the people. Broussel had been
conducted out of Paris without further resistance, and was at this time
in the prison of Saint Germain; while Blancmesnil, who was arrested at
the same time, but whose arrest had been made without difficulty or
noise, was safe in the Castle of Vincennes.
Comminges was near the queen, who was questioning him upon the details
of his expedition, and every one was listening to his account, when
D’Artagnan and Porthos were perceived at the door, behind the cardinal.
"Ah, madame," said Comminges, hastening to D’Artagnan, "here is one who
can tell you better than myself, for he was my protector. Without him I
should probably at this moment be a dead fish in the nets at Saint
Cloud, for it was a question of nothing less than throwing me into the
river. Speak, D’Artagnan, speak."
D’Artagnan had been a hundred times in the same room with the queen
since he had become lieutenant of the musketeers, but her majesty had
never once spoken to him.
"Well, sir," at last said Anne of Austria, "you are silent, after
rendering such a service?"
"Madame," replied D’Artagnan, "I have nought to say, save that my life
is ever at your majesty’s service, and that I shall only be happy the
day I lose it for you."
"I know that, sir; I have known that," said the queen, "a long time;
therefore I am delighted to be able thus publicly to mark my gratitude
and my esteem."
"Permit me, madame," said D’Artagnan, "to reserve a portion for my
friend; like myself" (he laid an emphasis on these words) "an ancient
musketeer of the company of Treville; he has done wonders."
"His name?" asked the queen.
"In the regiment," said D’Artagnan, "he is called Porthos" (the queen started), "but his true name is the Chevalier du Vallon." |
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