"Never mind; let’s sit down to table and take something to strengthen us
for the night."
"What are we to do, then, to-night?"
"To travel--perhaps."
"But----"
"Sit down, dear friend, to table. When one is eating, ideas flow easily.
After supper, when they are perfected, I will communicate my plans to
you."
So Porthos sat down to table without another word and ate with an
appetite that did honor to the confidence that was ever inspired in him
by D’Artagnan’s inventive imagination.
84. Strength and Sagacity--Continued.
Supper was eaten in silence, but not in sadness; for from time to time
one of those sweet smiles which were habitual to him in moments of
good-humor illumined the face of D’Artagnan. Not a scintilla of these
was lost on Porthos; and at every one he uttered an exclamation which
betrayed to his friend that he had not lost sight of the idea which
possessed his brain.
At dessert D’Artagnan reposed in his chair, crossed one leg over the
other and lounged about like a man perfectly at his ease.
Porthos rested his chin on his hands, placed his elbows on the table and
looked at D’Artagnan with an expression of confidence which imparted to
that colossus an admirable appearance of good-fellowship.
"Well?" said D’Artagnan, at last.
"Well!" repeated Porthos.
"You were saying, my dear friend----"
"No; I said nothing."
"Yes; you were saying you wished to leave this place."
"Ah, indeed! the will was never wanting."
"To get away you would not mind, you added, knocking down a door or a
wall."
"’Tis true--I said so, and I say it again."
"And I answered you, Porthos, that it was not a good plan; that we
couldn’t go a hundred steps without being recaptured, because we were
without clothes to disguise ourselves and arms to defend ourselves."
"That is true; we should need clothes and arms."
"Well," said D’Artagnan, rising, "we have them, friend Porthos, and even
something better."
"Bah!" said Porthos, looking around.
"Useless to look; everything will come to us when wanted. At about what
time did we see the two Swiss guards walking yesterday?"
"An hour after sunset."
"If they go out to-day as they did yesterday we shall have the honor,
then, of seeing them in half an hour?"
"In a quarter of an hour at most."
"Your arm is still strong enough, is it not, Porthos?"
Porthos unbuttoned his sleeve, raised his shirt and looked complacently
on his strong arm, as large as the leg of any ordinary man.
"Yes, indeed," said he, "I believe so."
"So that you could without trouble convert these tongs into a hoop and
yonder shovel into a corkscrew?"
"Certainly." And the giant took up these two articles, and without any
apparent effort produced in them the metamorphoses suggested by his
companion.
"There!" he cried.
"Capital!" exclaimed the Gascon. "Really, Porthos, you are a gifted
individual!"
"I have heard speak," said Porthos, "of a certain Milo of Crotona, who
performed wonderful feats, such as binding his forehead with a cord and
bursting it--of killing an ox with a blow of his fist and carrying it
home on his shoulders, et cetera. I used to learn all these feat by
heart yonder, down at Pierrefonds, and I have done all that he did
except breaking a cord by the corrugation of my temples."
"Because your strength is not in your head, Porthos," said his friend.
"No; it is in my arms and shoulders," answered Porthos with gratified
naivete.
"Well, my dear friend, let us approach the window and there you can
match your strength against that of an iron bar."
Porthos went to the window, took a bar in his hands, clung to it and
bent it like a bow; so that the two ends came out of the sockets of
stone in which for thirty years they had been fixed.
"Well! friend, the cardinal, although such a genius, could never have
done that."
"Shall I take out any more of them?" asked Porthos.
"No; that is sufficient; a man can pass through that."
Porthos tried, and passed the upper portion of his body through.
"Yes," he said.
"Now pass your arm through this opening."
"Why?"
"You will know presently--pass it."
Porthos obeyed with military promptness and passed his arm through the
opening.
"Admirable!" said D’Artagnan.
"The scheme goes forward, it seems."
"On wheels, dear friend."
"Good! What shall I do now?"
"Nothing."
"It is finished, then?"
"No, not yet."
"I should like to understand," said Porthos.
"Listen, my dear friend; in two words you will know all. The door of the
guardhouse opens, as you see."
"Yes, I see."
"They are about to send into our court, which Monsieur de Mazarin
crosses on his way to the orangery, the two guards who attend him."
"There they are, coming out."
"If only they close the guardhouse door! Good! They close it."
"What, then?"
"Silence! They may hear us."
"I don’t understand it at all."
"As you execute you will understand."
"And yet I should have preferred----"
"You will have the pleasure of the surprise."
"Ah, that is true."
"Hush!"
Porthos remained silent and motionless.
In fact, the two soldiers advanced on the side where the window was,
rubbing their hands, for it was cold, it being the month of February.
At this moment the door of the guardhouse was opened and one of the
soldiers was summoned away.
"Now," said D’Artagnan, "I am going to call this soldier and talk to
him. Don’t lose a word of what I’m going to say to you, Porthos.
Everything lies in the execution."
"Good, the execution of plots is my forte."
"I know it well. I depend on you. Look, I shall turn to the left, so
that the soldier will be at your right, as soon as he mounts on the
bench to talk to us."
"But supposing he doesn’t mount?"
"He will; rely upon it. As soon as you see him get up, stretch out your
arm and seize him by the neck. Then, raising him up as Tobit raised the
fish by the gills, you must pull him into the room, taking care to
squeeze him so tight that he can’t cry out."
"Oh!" said Porthos. "Suppose I happen to strangle him?"
"To be sure there would only be a Swiss the less in the world; but you
will not do so, I hope. Lay him down here; we’ll gag him and tie him--no
matter where--somewhere. So we shall get from him one uniform and a
sword."
"Marvelous!" exclaimed Porthos, looking at the Gascon with the most
profound admiration.
"Pooh!" replied D’Artagnan.
"Yes," said Porthos, recollecting himself, "but one uniform and one
sword will not suffice for two."
"Well; but there’s his comrade."
"True," said Porthos.
"Therefore, when I cough, stretch out your arm."
"Good!"
The two friends then placed themselves as they had agreed, Porthos being
completely hidden in an angle of the window.
"Good-evening, comrade," said D’Artagnan in his most fascinating voice
and manner.
"Good-evening, sir," answered the soldier, in a strong provincial
accent.
"’Tis not too warm to walk," resumed D’Artagnan.
"No, sir."
"And I think a glass of wine will not be disagreeable to you?"
"A glass of wine will be extremely welcome."
"The fish bites--the fish bites!" whispered the Gascon to Porthos.
"I understand," said Porthos.
"A bottle, perhaps?"
"A whole bottle? Yes, sir."
"A whole bottle, if you will drink my health."
"Willingly," answered the soldier.
"Come, then, and take it, friend," said the Gascon.
"With all my heart. How convenient that there’s a bench here. Egad! one
would think it had been placed here on purpose."
"Get on it; that’s it, friend."
And D’Artagnan coughed.
That instant the arm of Porthos fell. His hand of iron grasped, quick as
lightning, firm as a pair of blacksmith’s pincers, the soldier’s throat.
He raised him, almost stifling him as he drew him through the aperture,
at the risk of flaying him in the passage. He then laid him down on the
floor, where D’Artagnan, after giving him just time enough to draw his
breath, gagged him with his long scarf; and the moment he had done so
began to undress him with the promptitude and dexterity of a man who had
learned his business on the field of battle. Then the soldier, gagged
and bound, was placed upon the hearth, the fire of which had been
previously extinguished by the two friends.
"Here’s a sword and a dress," said Porthos.
"I take them," said D’Artagnan, "for myself. If you want another uniform
and sword you must play the same trick over again. Stop! I see the other
soldier issue from the guardroom and come toward us."
"I think," replied Porthos, "it would be imprudent to attempt the same
manoeuvre again; it is said that no man can succeed twice in the same
way, and a failure would be ruinous. No; I will go down, seize the man
unawares and bring him to you ready gagged."
"That is better," said the Gascon.
"Be ready," said Porthos, as he slipped through the opening.
He did as he said. Porthos seized his opportunity, caught the next
soldier by his neck, gagged him and pushed him like a mummy through the
bars into the room, and entered after him. Then they undressed him as
they had done the first, laid him on their bed and bound him with the
straps which composed the bed--the bedstead being of oak. This operation
proved as great a success as the first.
"There," said D’Artagnan, "this is capital! Now let me try on the dress
of yonder chap. Porthos, I doubt if you can wear it; but should it be
too tight, never mind, you can wear the breastplate and the hat with the
red feathers."
It happened, however, that the second soldier was a Swiss of gigantic
proportions, so, save that some few of the seams split, his uniform
fitted Porthos perfectly.
They then dressed themselves.
"’Tis done!" they both exclaimed at once. "As to you, comrades," they
said to the men, "nothing will happen to you if you are discreet; but if
you stir you are dead men."
The soldiers were complaisant; they had found the grasp of Porthos
pretty powerful and that it was no joke to fight against it.
"Now," said D’Artagnan, "you wouldn’t be sorry to understand the plot,
would you, Porthos?"
"Well, no, not very."
"Well, then, we shall go down into the court."
"Yes."
"We shall take the place of those two fellows."
"Well?"
"We will walk back and forth."
"That’s a good idea, for it isn’t warm."
"In a moment the valet-de-chambre will call the guard, as he did
yesterday and the day before."
"And we shall answer?"
"No, on the contrary, we shall not answer."
"As you please; I don’t insist on answering."
"We will not answer, then; we will simply settle our hats on our heads
and we will escort his eminence."
"Where shall we escort him?"
"Where he is going--to visit Athos. Do you think Athos will be sorry to
see us?"
"Oh!" cried Porthos, "oh! I understand."
"Wait a little, Porthos, before crying out; for, on my word, you haven’t
reached the end," said the Gascon, in a jesting tone.
"What is to happen?" said Porthos.
"Follow me," replied D’Artagnan. "The man who lives to see shall see."
And slipping through the aperture, he alighted in the court. Porthos
followed him by the same road, but with more difficulty and less
diligence. They could hear the two soldiers shivering with fear, as they
lay bound in the chamber.
Scarcely had the two Frenchmen touched the ground when a door opened and
the voice of the valet-de-chambre called out:
"Make ready!"
At the same moment the guardhouse was opened and a voice called out:
"La Bruyere and Du Barthois! March!"
"It seems that I am named La Bruyere," remarked D’Artagnan.
"And I, Du Barthois," added Porthos.
"Where are you?" asked the valet-de-chambre, whose eyes, dazzled by the
light, could not clearly distinguish our heroes in the gloom.
"Here we are," said the Gascon.
"What say you to that, Monsieur du Vallon?" he added in a low tone to
Porthos.
"If it but lasts, most capital," responded Porthos.
These two newly enlisted soldiers marched gravely after the
valet-de-chambre, who opened the door of the vestibule, then another
which seemed to be that of a waiting-room, and showing them two stools:
"Your orders are very simple," he said; "don’t allow anybody, except one
person, to enter here. Do you hear--not a single creature! Obey that
person implicitly. On your return you cannot make a mistake. You have
only to wait here till I release you."
D’Artagnan was known to this valet-de-chambre, who was no other than
Bernouin, and he had during the last six or eight months introduced the
Gascon a dozen times to the cardinal. The Gascon, therefore, instead of
answering, growled out "Ja! Ja!" in the most German and the least Gascon
accent possible.
As for Porthos, on whom D’Artagnan had impressed the necessity of
absolute silence and who did not even now begin to comprehend the scheme
of his friend, which was to follow Mazarin in his visit to Athos, he was
simply mute. All that he was allowed to say, in case of emergencies, was
the proverbial Der Teufel!
Bernouin shut the door and went away. When Porthos heard the key turn in
the lock he began to be alarmed, lest they should only have exchanged
one prison for another.
"Porthos, my friend," said D’Artagnan, "don’t distrust Providence! Let
me meditate and consider."
"Meditate and consider as much as you like," replied Porthos, who was
now quite out of humor at seeing things take this turn.
"We have walked eight paces," whispered D’Artagnan, "and gone up six
steps, so hereabouts is the pavilion called the pavilion of the
orangery. The Comte de la Fere cannot be far off, only the doors are
locked."
"That is a slight difficulty," said Porthos, "and a good push with the
shoulders----"
"For God’s sake, Porthos my friend, reserve your feats of strength, or
they will not have, when needed, the honor they deserve. Have you not
heard that some one is coming here?"
"Yes."
"Well, that some one will open the doors."
"But, my dear fellow, if that some one recognizes us, if that some one
cries out, we are lost; for you don’t propose, I imagine, that I shall
kill that man of the church. That might do if we were dealing with
Englishmen or Germans."
"Oh, may God keep me from it, and you, too!" said D’Artagnan. "The young
king would, perhaps, show us some gratitude; but the queen would never
forgive us, and it is she whom we have to consider. And then, besides,
the useless blood! never! no, never! I have my plan; let me carry it out
and we shall laugh."
"So much the better," said Porthos; "I feel some need of it."
"Hush!" said D’Artagnan; "the some one is coming."
The sound of a light step was heard in the vestibule. The hinges of the
door creaked and a man appeared in the dress of a cavalier, wrapped in a
brown cloak, with a lantern in one hand and a large beaver hat pulled
down over his eyes.
Porthos effaced himself against the wall, but he could not render
himself invisible; and the man in the cloak said to him, giving him his
lantern:
"Light the lamp which hangs from the ceiling."
Then addressing D’Artagnan:
"You know the watchword?" he said.
"Ja!" replied the Gascon, determined to confine himself to this specimen
of the German tongue.
"Tedesco!" answered the cavalier; "va bene."
And advancing toward the door opposite to that by which he came in, he
opened it and disappeared behind it, shutting it as he went.
"Now," asked Porthos, "what are we to do?"
"Now we shall make use of your shoulder, friend Porthos, if this door
proves to be locked. Everything in its proper time, and all comes right
to those who know how to wait patiently. But first barricade the first
door well; then we will follow yonder cavalier."
The two friends set to work and crowded the space before the door with
all the furniture in the room, as not only to make the passage
impassable, but so to block the door that by no means could it open
inward.
"There!" said D’Artagnan, "we can’t be overtaken. Come! forward!"
85. The Oubliettes of Cardinal Mazarin.
At first, on arriving at the door through which Mazarin had passed,
D’Artagnan tried in vain to open it, but on the powerful shoulder of
Porthos being applied to one of the panels, which gave way, D’Artagnan
introduced the point of his sword between the bolt and the staple of the
lock. The bolt gave way and the door opened.
"As I told you, everything can be attained, Porthos, women and doors, by
proceeding with gentleness."
"You’re a great moralist, and that’s the fact," said Porthos.
They entered; behind a glass window, by the light of the cardinal’s
lantern, which had been placed on the floor in the midst of the gallery,
they saw the orange and pomegranate trees of the Castle of Rueil, in
long lines, forming one great alley and two smaller side alleys.
"No cardinal!" said D’Artagnan, "but only his lantern; where the devil,
then, is he?"
Exploring, however, one of the side wings of the gallery, after making a
sign to Porthos to explore the other, he saw, all at once, at his left,
a tub containing an orange tree, which had been pushed out of its place
and in its place an open aperture.
Ten men would have found difficulty in moving that tub, but by some
mechanical contrivance it had turned with the flagstone on which it
rested.
D’Artagnan, as we have said, perceived a hole in that place and in this
hole the steps of a winding staircase.
He called Porthos to look at it.
"Were our object money only," he said, "we should be rich directly."
"How’s that?"
"Don’t you understand, Porthos? At the bottom of that staircase lies,
probably, the cardinal’s treasury of which folk tell such wonders, and
we should only have to descend, empty a chest, shut the cardinal up in
it, double lock it, go away, carrying off as much gold as we could, put
back this orange-tree over the place, and no one in the world would ever
ask us where our fortune came from--not even the cardinal."
"It would be a happy hit for clowns to make, but as it seems to be
unworthy of two gentlemen----" said Porthos.
"So I think; and therefore I said, ’Were our object money only;’ but we
want something else," replied the Gascon.
At the same moment, whilst D’Artagnan was leaning over the aperture to
listen, a metallic sound, as if some one was moving a bag of gold,
struck on his ear; he started; instantly afterward a door opened and a
light played upon the staircase.
Mazarin had left his lamp in the gallery to make people believe that he
was walking about, but he had with him a waxlight, to help him to
explore his mysterious strong box.
"Faith," he said, in Italian, as he was reascending the steps and
looking at a bag of reals, "faith, there’s enough to pay five
councillors of parliament, and two generals in Paris. I am a great
captain--that I am! but I make war in my own way."
The two friends were crouching down, meantime, behind a tub in the side
alley.
Mazarin came within three steps of D’Artagnan and pushed a spring in the
wall; the slab turned and the orange tree resumed its place.
Then the cardinal put out the waxlight, slipped it into his pocket, and
taking up the lantern: "Now," he said, "for Monsieur de la Fere."
"Very good," thought D’Artagnan, "’tis our road likewise; we will go
together."
All three set off on their walk, Mazarin taking the middle alley and the
friends the side ones.
The cardinal reached a second door without perceiving he was being
followed; the sand with which the alleys were covered deadened the sound
of footsteps.
He then turned to the left, down a corridor which had escaped the
attention of the two friends, but as he opened the door he paused, as if
in thought.
"Ah! Diavolo!" he exclaimed, "I forgot the recommendation of De
Comminges, who advised me to take a guard and place it at this door, in
order not to put myself at the mercy of that four-headed combination of
devils." And with a movement of impatience he turned to retrace his
steps.
"Do not give yourself the trouble, my lord," said D’Artagnan, with his
right foot forward, his beaver in his hand, a smile on his face, "we
have followed your eminence step by step and here we are."
"Yes--here we are," said Porthos.
And he made the same friendly salute as D’Artagnan.
Mazarin gazed at each of them with an affrighted stare, recognized them,
and let drop his lantern, uttering a cry of terror.
D’Artagnan picked it up; by good luck it had not been extinguished.
"Oh, what imprudence, my lord," said D’Artagnan; "’tis not good to be
about just here without a light. Your eminence might knock against
something, or fall into a hole."
"Monsieur d’Artagnan!" muttered Mazarin, unable to recover from his
astonishment.
"Yes, my lord, it is I. I have the honor to present to you Monsieur du
Vallon, that excellent friend of mine, in whom your eminence had the
kindness to interest yourself formerly."
And D’Artagnan held the lamp before the merry face of Porthos, who now
began to comprehend the affair and be very proud of the whole
undertaking.
"You were going to visit Monsieur de la Fere?" said D’Artagnan. "Don’t
let us disarrange your eminence. Be so good as to show us the way and we
will follow you."
Mazarin was by degrees recovering his senses.
"Have you been long in the orangery?" he asked in a trembling voice,
remembering the visits he had been paying to his treasury.
Porthos opened his mouth to reply; D’Artagnan made him a sign, and his
mouth, remaining silent, gradually closed.
"This moment come, my lord," said D’Artagnan.
Mazarin breathed again. His fears were now no longer for his hoard, but
for himself. A sort of smile played on his lips.
"Come," he said, "you have me in a snare, gentlemen. I confess myself
conquered. You wish to ask for liberty, and--I give it you."
"Oh, my lord!" answered D’Artagnan, "you are too good; as to our
liberty, we have that; we want to ask something else of you."
"You have your liberty?" repeated Mazarin, in terror.
"Certainly; and on the other hand, my lord, you have lost it, and now,
in accordance with the law of war, sir, you must buy it back again."
Mazarin felt a shiver run through him--a chill even to his heart’s core.
His piercing look was fixed in vain on the satirical face of the Gascon
and the unchanging countenance of Porthos. Both were in shadow and the
Sybil of Cuma herself could not have read them.
"To purchase back my liberty?" said the cardinal.
"Yes, my lord."
"And how much will that cost me, Monsieur d’Artagnan?"
"Zounds, my lord, I don’t know yet. We must ask the Comte de la Fere the
question. Will your eminence deign to open the door which leads to the
count’s room, and in ten minutes all will be settled."
Mazarin started.
"My lord," said D’Artagnan, "your eminence sees that we wish to act with
all formality and due respect; but I must warn you that we have no time
to lose; open the door then, my lord, and be so good as to remember,
once for all, that on the slightest attempt to escape or the faintest
cry for help, our position being very critical indeed, you must not be
angry with us if we go to extremities."
"Be assured," answered Mazarin, "that I shall attempt nothing; I give
you my word of honor."
D’Artagnan made a sign to Porthos to redouble his watchfulness; then
turning to Mazarin:
"Now, my lord, let us enter, if you please."
86. Conferences.
Mazarin turned the lock of a double door, on the threshold of which they
found Athos ready to receive his illustrious guests according to the
notice Comminges had given him.
On perceiving Mazarin he bowed.
"Your eminence," he said, "might have dispensed with your attendants;
the honor bestowed on me is too great for me to be unmindful of it."
"And so, my dear count," said D’Artagnan, "his eminence didn’t actually
insist on our attending him; it is Du Vallon and I who have insisted,
and even in a manner somewhat impolite, perhaps, so great was our
longing to see you."
At that voice, that mocking tone, and that familiar gesture, accenting
voice and tone, Athos made a bound of surprise.
"D’Artagnan! Porthos!" he exclaimed.
"My very self, dear friend."
"Me, also!" repeated Porthos.
"What means this?" asked the count.
"It means," replied Mazarin, trying to smile and biting his lips in the
attempt, "that our parts are changed, and that instead of these
gentlemen being my prisoners I am theirs; but, gentlemen, I warn you,
unless you kill me, your victory will be of very short duration; people
will come to the rescue."
"Ah! my lord!" cried the Gascon, "don’t threaten! ’tis a bad example. We
are so good and gentle to your eminence. Come, let us put aside all
rancor and talk pleasantly."
"There’s nothing I wish more," replied Mazarin. "But don’t think
yourselves in a better position than you are. In ensnaring me you have
fallen into the trap yourselves. How are you to get away from here?
remember the soldiers and sentinels who guard these doors. Now, I am
going to show you how sincere I am."
"Good," thought D’Artagnan; "we must look about us; he’s going to play
us a trick."
"I offered you your liberty," continued the minister; "will you take it?
Before an hour has passed you will be discovered, arrested, obliged to
kill me, which would be a crime unworthy of loyal gentlemen like you."
"He is right," thought Athos.
And, like every other reflection passing in a mind that entertained none
but noble thoughts, this feeling was expressed in his eyes.
"And therefore," said D’Artagnan, to clip the hope which Athos’s tacit
adhesion had imparted to Mazarin, "we shall not proceed to that violence
save in the last extremity."
"If on the contrary," resumed Mazarin, "you accept your liberty----"
"Why you, my lord, might take it away from us in less than five minutes
afterward; and from my knowledge of you I believe you will so take it
away from us."
"No--on the faith of a cardinal. You do not believe me?"
"My lord, I never believe cardinals who are not priests."
"Well, on the faith of a minister."
"You are no longer a minister, my lord; you are a prisoner."
"Then, on the honor of a Mazarin, as I am and ever shall be, I hope,"
said the cardinal.
"Hem," replied D’Artagnan. "I have heard speak of a Mazarin who had not
much religion when his oaths were in question. I fear he may have been
an ancestor of your eminence."
"Monsieur d’Artagnan, you are a great wit and I am really sorry to be on
bad terms with you."
"My lord, let us come to terms; I ask nothing better."
"Very well," said Mazarin, "if I place you in security, in a manner
evident, palpable----"
"Ah! that is another thing," said Porthos.
"Let us see," said Athos.
"Let us see," said D’Artagnan.
"In the first place, do you accept?" asked the cardinal.
"Unfold your plan, my lord, and we will see."
"Take notice that you are shut up--captured."
"You well know, my lord, that there always remains to us a last
resource."
"What?"
"That of dying together."
Mazarin shuddered.
"Listen," he said; "at the end of yonder corridor is a door, of which I
have the key, it leads into the park. Go, and take this key with you;
you are active, vigorous, and you have arms. At a hundred steps, on
turning to the left, you will find the wall of the park; get over it,
and in three leaps you will be on the road and free."
"Ah! by Jove, my lord," said D’Artagnan, "you have well said, but these
are only words. Where is the key you speak of?"
"Here it is."
"Ah, my lord! You will conduct us yourself, then, to that door?"
"Very willingly, if it be necessary to reassure you," answered the
minister, and Mazarin, who was delighted to get off so cheaply, led the
way, in high spirits, to the corridor and opened the door.
It led into the park, as the three fugitives perceived by the night
breeze which rushed into the corridor and blew the wind into their
faces.
"The devil!" exclaimed the Gascon, "’tis a dreadful night, my lord. We
don’t know the locality, and shall never find the wall. Since your
eminence has come so far, come a few steps further; conduct us, my lord,
to the wall."
"Be it so," replied the cardinal; and walking in a straight line he went
to the wall, at the foot of which they all four arrived at the same instant. |
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