Mousqueton remained glued to the door, awaiting the explanation of this
strange occurrence. What upset him completely was that the four friends
seemed to have no acquaintance with one another.
The house to which D’Artagnan and Porthos conducted Athos and Aramis was
the one assigned to them by General Cromwell and of which they had taken
possession on the previous evening. It was at the corner of two streets
and had in the rear, bordering on the side street, stables and a sort of
garden. The windows on the ground floor, according to a custom in
provincial villages, were barred, so that they strongly resembled the
windows of a prison.
The two friends made the prisoners enter the house first, whilst they
stood at the door, desiring Mousqueton to take the four horses to the
stable.
"Why don’t we go in with them?" asked Porthos.
"We must first see what the sergeant wishes us to do," replied
D’Artagnan.
The sergeant and his men took possession of the little garden.
D’Artagnan asked them what they wished and why they had taken that
position.
"We have had orders," answered the man, "to help you in taking care of
your prisoners."
There could be no fault to find with this arrangement; on the contrary,
it seemed to be a delicate attention, to be gratefully received;
D’Artagnan, therefore, thanked the man and gave him a crown piece to
drink to General Cromwell’s health.
The sergeant answered that Puritans never drank, and put the crown piece
in his pocket.
"Ah!" said Porthos, "what a fearful day, my dear D’Artagnan!"
"What! a fearful day, when to-day we find our friends?"
"Yes; but under what circumstances?"
"’Tis true that our position is an awkward one; but let us go in and see
more clearly what is to be done."
"Things look black enough," replied Porthos; "I understand now why
Aramis advised me to strangle that horrible Mordaunt."
"Silence!" cried the Gascon; "do not utter that name."
"But," argued Porthos, "I speak French and they are all English."
D’Artagnan looked at Porthos with that air of wonder which a cunning man
cannot help feeling at displays of crass stupidity.
But as Porthos on his side could not comprehend his astonishment, he
merely pushed him indoors, saying, "Let us go in."
They found Athos in profound despondency; Aramis looked first at Porthos
and then at D’Artagnan, without speaking, but the latter understood his
meaningful look.
"You want to know how we came here? ’Tis easily guessed. Mazarin sent us
with a letter to General Cromwell."
"But how came you to fall into company with Mordaunt, whom I bade you
distrust?" asked Athos.
"And whom I advised you to strangle, Porthos," said Aramis.
"Mazarin again. Cromwell had sent him to Mazarin. Mazarin sent us to
Cromwell. There is a certain fatality in it."
"Yes, you are right, D’Artagnan, a fatality that will separate and ruin
us! So, my dear Aramis, say no more about it and let us prepare to
submit to destiny."
"Zounds! on the contrary, let us speak about it; for it was agreed among
us, once for all, that we should always hold together, though engaged on
opposing sides."
"Yes," added Athos, "I now ask you, D’Artagnan, what side you are on?
Ah! behold for what end the wretched Mazarin has made use of you. Do you
know in what crime you are to-day engaged? In the capture of a king, his
degradation and his murder."
"Oh! oh!" cried Porthos, "do you think so?"
"You are exaggerating, Athos; we are not so far gone as that," replied
the lieutenant.
"Good heavens! we are on the very eve of it. I say, why is the king
taken prisoner? Those who wish to respect him as a master would not buy
him as a slave. Do you think it is to replace him on the throne that
Cromwell has paid for him two hundred thousand pounds sterling? They
will kill him, you may be sure of it."
"I don’t maintain the contrary," said D’Artagnan. "But what’s that to
us? I am here because I am a soldier and have to obey orders--I have
taken an oath to obey, and I do obey; but you who have taken no such
oath, why are you here and what cause do you represent?"
"That most sacred in the world," said Athos; "the cause of misfortune,
of religion, royalty. A friend, a wife, a daughter, have done us the
honor to call us to their aid. We have served them to the best of our
poor means, and God will recompense the will, forgive the want of power.
You may see matters differently, D’Artagnan, and think otherwise. I will
not attempt to argue with you, but I blame you."
"Heyday!" cried D’Artagnan, "what matters it to me, after all, if
Cromwell, who’s an Englishman, revolts against his king, who is a
Scotchman? I am myself a Frenchman. I have nothing to do with these
things--why hold me responsible?"
"Yes," said Porthos.
"Because all gentlemen are brothers, because you are a gentleman,
because the kings of all countries are the first among gentlemen,
because the blind populace, ungrateful and brutal, always takes pleasure
in pulling down what is above them. And you, you, D’Artagnan, a man
sprung from the ancient nobility of France, bearing an honorable name,
carrying a good sword, have helped to give up a king to beersellers,
shopkeepers, and wagoners. Ah! D’Artagnan! perhaps you have done your
duty as a soldier, but as a gentleman, I say that you are very
culpable."
D’Artagnan was chewing the stalk of a flower, unable to reply and
thoroughly uncomfortable; for when turned from the eyes of Athos he
encountered those of Aramis.
"And you, Porthos," continued the count, as if in consideration for
D’Artagnan’s embarrassment, "you, the best heart, the best friend, the
best soldier that I know--you, with a soul that makes you worthy of a
birth on the steps of a throne, and who, sooner or later, must receive
your reward from an intelligent king--you, my dear Porthos, you, a
gentleman in manners, in tastes and in courage, you are as culpable as
D’Artagnan."
Porthos blushed, but with pleasure rather than with confusion; and yet,
bowing his head, as if humiliated, he said:
"Yes, yes, my dear count, I feel that you are right."
Athos arose.
"Come," he said, stretching out his hand to D’Artagnan, "come, don’t be
sullen, my dear son, for I have said all this to you, if not in the
tone, at least with the feelings of a father. It would have been easier
to me merely to have thanked you for preserving my life and not to have
uttered a word of all this."
"Doubtless, doubtless, Athos. But here it is: you have sentiments, the
devil knows what, such as every one can’t entertain. Who could suppose
that a sensible man could leave his house, France, his ward--a charming
youth, for we saw him in the camp--to fly to the aid of a rotten,
worm-eaten royalty, which is going to crumble one of these days like an
old hovel. The sentiments you air are certainly fine, so fine that they
are superhuman."
"However that may be, D’Artagnan," replied Athos, without falling into
the snare which his Gascon friend had prepared for him by an appeal to
his parental love, "however that may be, you know in the bottom of your
heart that it is true; but I am wrong to dispute with my master.
D’Artagnan, I am your prisoner--treat me as such."
"Ah! pardieu!" said D’Artagnan, "you know you will not be my prisoner
very long."
"No," said Aramis, "they will doubtless treat us like the prisoners of
the Philipghauts."
"And how were they treated?" asked D’Artagnan.
"Why," said Aramis, "one-half were hanged and the other half were shot."
"Well, I," said D’Artagnan "I answer that while there remains a drop of
blood in my veins you will be neither hanged nor shot. Sang Diou! let
them come on! Besides--do you see that door, Athos?"
"Yes; what then?"
"Well, you can go out by that door whenever you please; for from this
moment you are free as the air."
"I recognize you there, my brave D’Artagnan," replied Athos; "but you
are no longer our masters. That door is guarded, D’Artagnan; you know
that."
"Very well, you will force it," said Porthos. "There are only a dozen
men at the most."
"That would be nothing for us four; it is too much for us two. No,
divided as we now are, we must perish. See the fatal example: on the
Vendomois road, D’Artagnan, you so brave, and you, Porthos, so valiant
and so strong--you were beaten; to-day Aramis and I are beaten in our
turn. Now that never happened to us when we were four together. Let us
die, then, as De Winter has died; as for me, I will fly only on
condition that we all fly together."
"Impossible," said D’Artagnan; "we are under Mazarin’s orders."
"I know it and I have nothing more to say; my arguments lead to nothing;
doubtless they are bad, since they have not determined minds so just as
yours."
"Besides," said Aramis, "had they taken effect it would be still better
not to compromise two excellent friends like D’Artagnan and Porthos. Be
assured, gentlemen, we shall do you honor in our dying. As for myself, I
shall be proud to face the bullets, or even the rope, in company with
you, Athos; for you have never seemed to me so grand as you are to-day."
D’Artagnan said nothing, but, after having gnawed the flower stalk, he
began to bite his nails. At last:
"Do you imagine," he resumed, "that they mean to kill you? And wherefore
should they do so? What interest have they in your death? Moreover, you
are our prisoners."
"Fool!" cried Aramis; "knowest thou not, then, Mordaunt? I have but
exchanged with him one look, yet that look convinced me that we were
doomed."
"The truth is, I’m very sorry that I did not strangle him as you advised
me," said Porthos.
"Eh! I make no account of the harm Mordaunt can do!" cried D’Artagnan.
"Cap de Diou! if he troubles me too much I will crush him, the insect!
Do not fly, then. It is useless; for I swear to you that you are as safe
here as you were twenty years, ago--you, Athos, in the Rue Ferou, and
you, Aramis, in the Rue de Vaugirard."
"Stop," cried Athos, extending his hand to one of the grated windows by
which the room was lighted; "you will soon know what to expect, for here
he is."
"Who?"
"Mordaunt."
In fact, looking at the place to which Athos pointed, D’Artagnan saw a
cavalier coming toward the house at full gallop.
It was Mordaunt.
D’Artagnan rushed out of the room.
Porthos wanted to follow him.
"Stay," said D’Artagnan, "and do not come till you hear me drum my
fingers on the door."
When Mordaunt arrived opposite the house he saw D’Artagnan on the
threshold and the soldiers lying on the grass here and there, with their
arms.
"Halloo!" he cried, "are the prisoners still there?"
"Yes, sir," answered the sergeant, uncovering.
"’Tis well; order four men to conduct them to my lodging."
Four men prepared to do so.
"What is it?" said D’Artagnan, with that jeering manner which our
readers have so often observed in him since they made his acquaintance.
"What is the matter, if you please?"
"Sir," replied Mordaunt, "I have ordered the two prisoners we made this
morning to be conducted to my lodging."
"Wherefore, sir? Excuse curiosity, but I wish to be enlightened on the
subject."
"Because these prisoners, sir, are at my disposal and I choose to
dispose of them as I like."
"Allow me--allow me, sir," said D’Artagnan, "to observe you are in
error. The prisoners belong to those who take them and not to those who
only saw them taken. You might have taken Lord Winter--who, ’tis said,
was your uncle--prisoner, but you preferred killing him; ’tis well; we,
that is, Monsieur du Vallon and I, could have killed our prisoners--we
preferred taking them."
Mordaunt’s very lips grew white with rage.
D’Artagnan now saw that affairs were growing worse and he beat the
guard’s march upon the door. At the first beat Porthos rushed out and
stood on the other side of the door.
This movement was observed by Mordaunt.
"Sir!" he thus addressed D’Artagnan, "your resistance is useless; these
prisoners have just been given me by my illustrious patron, Oliver
Cromwell."
These words struck D’Artagnan like a thunderbolt. The blood mounted to
his temples, his eyes became dim; he saw from what fountainhead the
ferocious hopes of the young man arose, and he put his hand to the hilt
of his sword.
As for Porthos, he looked inquiringly at D’Artagnan.
This look of Porthos’s made the Gascon regret that he had summoned the
brute force of his friend to aid him in an affair which seemed to
require chiefly cunning.
"Violence," he said to himself, "would spoil all; D’Artagnan, my friend,
prove to this young serpent that thou art not only stronger, but more
subtle than he is."
"Ah!" he said, making a low bow, "why did you not begin by saying that,
Monsieur Mordaunt? What! are you sent by General Oliver Cromwell, the
most illustrious captain of the age?"
"I have this instant left him," replied Mordaunt, alighting, in order to
give his horse to a soldier to hold.
"Why did you not say so at once, my dear sir! all England is with
Cromwell; and since you ask for my prisoners, I bend, sir, to your
wishes. They are yours; take them."
Mordaunt, delighted, advanced, Porthos looking at D’Artagnan with
open-mouthed astonishment. Then D’Artagnan trod on his foot and Porthos
began to understand that this was merely acting.
Mordaunt put his foot on the first step of the door and, with his hat in
hand, prepared to pass by the two friends, motioning to the four men to
follow him.
"But, pardon," said D’Artagnan, with the most charming smile and putting
his hand on the young man’s shoulder, "if the illustrious General Oliver
Cromwell has disposed of our prisoners in your favour, he has, of
course, made that act of donation in writing."
Mordaunt stopped short.
"He has given you some little writing for me--the least bit of paper
which may show that you come in his name. Be pleased to give me that
scrap of paper so that I may justify, by a pretext at least, my
abandoning my countrymen. Otherwise, you see, although I am sure that
General Oliver Cromwell can intend them no harm, it would have a bad
appearance."
Mordaunt recoiled; he felt the blow and discharged a terrible look at
D’Artagnan, who responded by the most amiable expression that ever
graced a human countenance.
"When I tell you a thing, sir," said Mordaunt, "you insult me by
doubting it."
"I!" cried D’Artagnan, "I doubt what you say! God keep me from it, my
dear Monsieur Mordaunt! On the contrary, I take you to be a worthy and
accomplished gentleman. And then, sir, do you wish me to speak freely to
you?" continued D’Artagnan, with his frank expression.
"Speak out, sir," said Mordaunt.
"Monsieur du Vallon, yonder, is rich and has forty thousand francs
yearly, so he does not care about money. I do not speak for him, but for
myself."
"Well, sir? What more?"
"Well--I--I’m not rich. In Gascony ’tis no dishonor, sir, nobody is
rich; and Henry IV., of glorious memory, who was the king of the
Gascons, as His Majesty Philip IV. is the king of the Spaniards, never
had a penny in his pocket."
"Go on, sir, I see what you wish to get at; and if it is simply what I
think that stops you, I can obviate the difficulty."
"Ah, I knew well," said the Gascon, "that you were a man of talent.
Well, here’s the case, here’s where the saddle hurts me, as we French
say. I am an officer of fortune, nothing else; I have nothing but what
my sword brings me in--that is to say, more blows than banknotes. Now,
on taking prisoners, this morning, two Frenchmen, who seemed to me of
high birth--in short, two knights of the Garter--I said to myself, my
fortune is made. I say two, because in such circumstances, Monsieur du
Vallon, who is rich, always gives me his prisoners."
Mordaunt, completely deceived by the wordy civility of D’Artagnan,
smiled like a man who understands perfectly the reasons given him, and
said:
"I shall have the order signed directly, sir, and with it two thousand
pistoles; meanwhile, let me take these men away."
"No," replied D’Artagnan; "what signifies a delay of half an hour? I am
a man of order, sir; let us do things in order."
"Nevertheless," replied Mordaunt, "I could compel you; I command here."
"Ah, sir!" said D’Artagnan, "I see that although we have had the honor
of traveling in your company you do not know us. We are gentlemen; we
are, both of us, able to kill you and your eight men--we two only. For
Heaven’s sake don’t be obstinate, for when others are obstinate I am
obstinate likewise, and then I become ferocious and headstrong, and
there’s my friend, who is even more headstrong and ferocious than
myself. Besides, we are sent here by Cardinal Mazarin, and at this
moment represent both the king and the cardinal, and are, therefore, as
ambassadors, able to act with impunity, a thing that General Oliver
Cromwell, who is assuredly as great a politician as he is a general, is
quite the man to understand. Ask him then, for the written order. What
will that cost you my dear Monsieur Mordaunt?"
"Yes, the written order," said Porthos, who now began to comprehend what
D’Artagnan was aiming at, "we ask only for that."
However inclined Mordaunt was to have recourse to violence, he
understood the reasons D’Artagnan had given him; besides, completely
ignorant of the friendship which existed between the four Frenchmen, all
his uneasiness disappeared when he heard of the plausible motive of the
ransom. He decided, therefore, not only to fetch the order, but the two
thousand pistoles, at which he estimated the prisoners. He therefore
mounted his horse and disappeared.
"Good!" thought D’Artagnan; "a quarter of an hour to go to the tent, a
quarter of an hour to return; it is more than we need." Then turning,
without the least change of countenance, to Porthos, he said, looking
him full in the face: "Friend Porthos, listen to this; first, not a
syllable to either of our friends of what you have heard; it is
unnecessary for them to know the service we are going to render them."
"Very well; I understand."
"Go to the stable; you will find Mousqueton there; saddle your horses,
put your pistols in your saddle-bags, take out the horses and lead them
to the street below this, so that there will be nothing to do but mount
them; all the rest is my business."
Porthos made no remark, but obeyed, with the sublime confidence he had
in his friend.
"I go," he said, "only, shall I enter the chamber where those gentlemen
are?"
"No, it is not worth while."
"Well, do me the kindness to take my purse, which I left on the
mantelpiece."
"All right."
He then proceeded, with his usual calm gait, to the stable and went into
the very midst of the soldiery, who, foreigner as he was, could not help
admiring his height and the enormous strength of his great limbs.
At the corner of the street he met Mousqueton and took him with him.
D’Artagnan, meantime, went into the house, whistling a tune which he had
begun before Porthos went away.
"My dear Athos, I have reflected on your arguments and I am convinced. I
am sorry to have had anything to do with this matter. As you say,
Mazarin is a knave. I have resolved to fly with you, not a word--be
ready. Your swords are in the corner; do not forget them, they are in
many circumstances very useful; there is Porthos’s purse, too."
He put it into his pocket. The two friends were perfectly stupefied.
"Well, pray, is there anything to be so surprised at?" he said. "I was
blind; Athos has made me see, that’s all; come here."
The two friends went near him.
"Do you see that street? There are the horses. Go out by the door, turn
to the right, jump into your saddles, all will be right; don’t be uneasy
at anything except mistaking the signal. That will be the signal when I
call out--Jesus Seigneur!"
"But give us your word that you will come too, D’Artagnan," said Athos.
"I swear I will, by Heaven."
"’Tis settled," said Aramis; "at the cry ’Jesus Seigneur’ we go out,
upset all that stands in our way, run to our horses, jump into our
saddles, spur them; is that all?"
"Exactly."
"See, Aramis, as I have told you, D’Artagnan is first amongst us all,"
said Athos.
"Very true," replied the Gascon, "but I always run away from
compliments. Don’t forget the signal: ’Jesus Seigneur!’" and he went out
as he came in, whistling the self-same air.
The soldiers were playing or sleeping; two of them were singing in a
corner, out of tune, the psalm: "On the rivers of Babylon."
D’Artagnan called the sergeant. "My dear friend, General Cromwell has
sent Monsieur Mordaunt to fetch me. Guard the prisoners well, I beg of
you."
The sergeant made a sign, as much as to say he did not understand
French, and D’Artagnan tried to make him comprehend by signs and
gestures. Then he went into the stable; he found the five horses
saddled, his own amongst the rest.
"Each of you take a horse by the bridle," he said to Porthos and
Mousqueton; "turn to the left, so that Athos and Aramis may see you
clearly from the window."
"They are coming, then?" said Porthos.
"In a moment."
"You didn’t forget my purse?"
"No; be easy."
"Good."
Porthos and Mousqueton each took a horse by the bridle and proceeded to
their post.
Then D’Artagnan, being alone, struck a light and lighted a small bit of
tinder, mounted his horse and stopped at the door in the midst of the
soldiers. There, caressing as he pretended, the animal with his hand, he
put this bit of burning tinder in his ear. It was necessary to be as
good a horseman as he was to risk such a scheme, for no sooner had the
animal felt the burning tinder than he uttered a cry of pain and reared
and jumped as if he had been mad.
The soldiers, whom he was nearly trampling, ran away.
"Help! help!" cried D’Artagnan; "stop--my horse has the staggers."
In an instant the horse’s eyes grew bloodshot and he was white with
foam.
"Help!" cried D’Artagnan. "What! will you let me be killed? Jesus
Seigneur!"
No sooner had he uttered this cry than the door opened and Athos and
Aramis rushed out. The coast, owing to the Gascon’s stratagem, was
clear.
"The prisoners are escaping! the prisoners are escaping!" cried the
sergeant.
"Stop! stop!" cried D’Artagnan, giving rein to his famous steed, who,
darting forth, overturned several men.
"Stop! stop!" cried the soldiers, and ran for their arms.
But the prisoners were in their saddles and lost no time hastening to
the nearest gate.
In the middle of the street they saw Grimaud and Blaisois, who were
coming to find their masters. With one wave of his hand Athos made
Grimaud, who followed the little troop, understand everything, and they
passed on like a whirlwind, D’Artagnan still directing them from behind
with his voice.
They passed through the gate like apparitions, without the guards
thinking of detaining them, and reached the open country.
All this time the soldiers were calling out, "Stop! stop!" and the
sergeant, who began to see that he was the victim of an artifice, was
almost in a frenzy of despair. Whilst all this was going on, a cavalier
in full gallop was seen approaching. It was Mordaunt with the order in
his hand.
"The prisoners!" he exclaimed, jumping off his horse.
The sergeant had not the courage to reply; he showed him the open door,
the empty room. Mordaunt darted to the steps, understood all, uttered a
cry, as if his very heart was pierced, and fell fainting on the stone
steps.
59. Noble Natures never lose Courage, nor good Stomachs their Appetites.
The little troop, without looking behind them or exchanging a word, fled
at a rapid gallop, fording a little stream, of which none of them knew
the name, and leaving on their left a town which Athos declared to be
Durham. At last they came in sight of a small wood, and spurring their
horses afresh, rode in its direction.
As soon as they had disappeared behind a green curtain sufficiently
thick to conceal them from the sight of any one who might be in pursuit
they drew up to hold a council together. The two grooms held the horses,
that they might take a little rest without being unsaddled, and Grimaud
was posted as sentinel.
"Come, first of all," said Athos to D’Artagnan, "my friend, that I may
shake hands with you--you, our rescuer--you, the true hero of us all."
"Athos is right--you have my adoration," said Aramis, in his turn
pressing his hand. "To what are you not equal, with your superior
intelligence, infallible eye, your arm of iron and your enterprising
mind!"
"Now," said the Gascon, "that is all well, I accept for Porthos and
myself everything--thanks and compliments; we have plenty of time to
spare."
The two friends, recalled by D’Artagnan to what was also due to Porthos,
pressed his hand in their turn.
"And now," said Athos, "it is not our plan to run anywhere and like
madmen, but we must map up our campaign. What shall we do?"
"What are we going to do, i’faith? It is not very difficult to say."
"Tell us, then, D’Artagnan."
"We are going to reach the nearest seaport, unite our little resources,
hire a vessel and return to France. As for me I will give my last sou
for it. Life is the greatest treasure, and speaking candidly, ours hangs
by a thread."
"What do you say to this, Du Vallon?"
"I," said Porthos, "I am entirely of D’Artagnan’s opinion; this is a
’beastly’ country, this England."
"You are quite decided, then, to leave it?" asked Athos of D’Artagnan.
"Egad! I don’t see what is to keep me here."
A glance was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
"Go, then, my friends," said the former, sighing.
"How, go then?" exclaimed D’Artagnan. "Let us go, you mean?"
"No, my friend," said Athos, "you must leave us."
"Leave you!" cried D’Artagnan, quite bewildered at this unexpected
announcement.
"Bah!" said Porthos, "why separate, since we are all together?"
"Because you can and ought to return to France; your mission is
accomplished, but ours is not."
"Your mission is not accomplished?" exclaimed D’Artagnan, looking in
astonishment at Athos.
"No, my friend," replied Athos, in his gentle but decided voice, "we
came here to defend King Charles; we have but ill defended him--it
remains for us to save him!"
"To save the king?" said D’Artagnan, looking at Aramis as he had looked
at Athos.
Aramis contented himself by making a sign with his head.
D’Artagnan’s countenance took an expression of the deepest compassion;
he began to think he had to do with madmen.
"You cannot be speaking seriously, Athos!" said he; "the king is
surrounded by an army, which is conducting him to London. This army is
commanded by a butcher, or the son of a butcher--it matters
little--Colonel Harrison. His majesty, I can assure you, will be tried
on his arrival in London; I have heard enough from the lips of Oliver
Cromwell to know what to expect."
A second look was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
"And when the trial is ended there will be no delay in putting the
sentence into execution," continued D’Artagnan.
"And to what penalty do you think the king will be condemned?" asked
Athos.
"The penalty of death, I greatly fear; they have gone too far for him to
pardon them, and there is nothing left to them but one thing, and that
is to kill him. Have you never heard what Oliver Cromwell said when he
came to Paris and was shown the dungeon at Vincennes where Monsieur de
Vendome was imprisoned?"
"What did he say?" asked Porthos.
"’Princes must be knocked on the head.’"
"I remember it," said Athos.
"And you fancy he will not put his maxim into execution, now that he has
got hold of the king?"
"On the contrary, I am certain he will do so. But then that is all the
more reason why we should not abandon the august head so threatened."
"Athos, you are becoming mad."
"No, my friend," Athos gently replied, "but De Winter sought us out in
France and introduced us, Monsieur d’Herblay and myself, to Madame
Henrietta. Her majesty did us the honor to ask our aid for her husband.
We engaged our word; our word included everything. It was our strength,
our intelligence, our life, in short, that we promised. It remains now
for us to keep our word. Is that your opinion, D’Herblay?"
"Yes," said Aramis, "we have promised."
"Then," continued Athos, "we have another reason; it is this--listen: In
France at this moment everything is poor and paltry. We have a king ten
years old, who doesn’t yet know what he wants; we have a queen blinded
by a belated passion; we have a minister who governs France as he would
govern a great farm--that is to say, intent only on turning out all the
gold he can by the exercise of Italian cunning and invention; we have
princes who set up a personal and egotistic opposition, who will draw
from Mazarin’s hands only a few ingots of gold or some shreds of power
granted as bribes. I have served them without enthusiasm--God knows that
I estimated them at their real value, and that they are not high in my
esteem--but on principle. To-day I am engaged in a different affair. I
have encountered misfortune in a high place, a royal misfortune, a
European misfortune; I attach myself to it. If we can succeed in saving
the king it will be good; if we die for him it will be grand."
"So you know beforehand you must perish!" said D’Artagnan.
"We fear so, and our only regret is to die so far from both of you."
"What will you do in a foreign land, an enemy’s country?"
"I traveled in England when I was young, I speak English like an
Englishman, and Aramis, too, knows something of the language. Ah! if we
had you, my friends! With you, D’Artagnan, with you, Porthos--all four
reunited for the first time for twenty years--we would dare not only
England, but the three kingdoms put together!"
"And did you promise the queen," resumed D’Artagnan, petulantly, "to
storm the Tower of London, to kill a hundred thousand soldiers, to fight
victoriously against the wishes of the nation and the ambition of a man,
and when that man is Cromwell? Do not exaggerate your duty. In Heaven’s
name, my dear Athos, do not make a useless sacrifice. When I see you
merely, you look like a reasonable being; when you speak, I seem to have
to do with a madman. Come, Porthos, join me; say frankly, what do you
think of this business?"
"Nothing good," replied Porthos.
"Come," continued D’Artagnan, who, irritated that instead of listening
to him Athos seemed to be attending to his own thoughts, "you have never
found yourself the worse for my advice. Well, then, believe me, Athos,
your mission is ended, and ended nobly; return to France with us."
"Friend," said Athos, "our resolution is irrevocable."
"Then you have some other motive unknown to us?"
Athos smiled and D’Artagnan struck his hand together in anger and
muttered the most convincing reasons that he could discover; but to all
these reasons Athos contented himself by replying with a calm, sweet
smile and Aramis by nodding his head.
"Very well," cried D’Artagnan, at last, furious, "very well, since you
wish it, let us leave our bones in this beggarly land, where it is
always cold, where fine weather is a fog, fog is rain, and rain a
deluge; where the sun represents the moon and the moon a cream cheese;
in truth, whether we die here or elsewhere matters little, since we must
die."
"Only reflect, my good fellow," said Athos, "it is but dying rather
sooner."
"Pooh! a little sooner or a little later, it isn’t worth quarreling
over."
"If I am astonished at anything," remarked Porthos, sententiously, "it
is that it has not already happened."
"Oh, it will happen, you may be sure," said D’Artagnan. "So it is
agreed, and if Porthos makes no objection----"
"I," said Porthos, "I will do whatever you please; and besides, I think
what the Comte de la Fere said just now is very good."
"But your future career, D’Artagnan--your ambition, Porthos?"
"Our future, our ambition!" replied D’Artagnan, with feverish
volubility. "Need we think of that since we are to save the king? The
king saved--we shall assemble our friends together--we will head the
Puritans--reconquer England; we shall re-enter London--place him
securely on his throne----"
"And he will make us dukes and peers," said Porthos, whose eyes sparkled
with joy at this imaginary prospect.
"Or he will forget us," added D’Artagnan.
"Oh!" said Porthos.
"Well, that has happened, friend Porthos. It seems to me that we once
rendered Anne of Austria a service not much less than that which to-day
we are trying to perform for Charles I.; but, none the less, Anne of
Austria has forgotten us for twenty years."
"Well, in spite of that, D’Artagnan," said Athos, "you are not sorry
that you were useful to her?"
"No, indeed," said D’Artagnan; "I admit even that in my darkest moments
I find consolation in that remembrance."
"You see, then, D’Artagnan, though princes often are ungrateful, God
never is."
"Athos," said D’Artagnan, "I believe that were you to fall in with the
devil, you would conduct yourself so well that you would take him with
you to Heaven."
"So, then?" said Athos, offering his hand to D’Artagnan.
"’Tis settled," replied D’Artagnan. "I find England a charming country,
and I stay--but on one condition only."
"What is it?"
"That I am not forced to learn English." |
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