"But you speak of him, not of his party, his resources."
"It is true--the queen is for him."
"Something in his favor."
"But he will never have the king."
"A mere child."
"A child who will be of age in four years. Then he has neither the
parliament nor the people with him--they represent the wealth of the
country; nor the nobles nor the princes, who are the military power of
France."
D’Artagnan scratched his ear. He was forced to confess to himself that
this reasoning was not only comprehensive, but just.
"You see, my poor friend, that I am sometimes bereft of my ordinary
thoughtfulness; perhaps I am wrong in speaking thus to you, who have
evidently a leaning to Mazarin."
"I!" cried D’Artagnan, "not in the least."
"You spoke of a mission."
"Did I? I was wrong then, no, I said what you say--there is a crisis at
hand. Well! let’s fly the feather before the wind; let us join with that
side to which the wind will carry it and resume our adventurous life. We
were once four valiant knights--four hearts fondly united; let us unite
again, not our hearts, which have never been severed, but our courage
and our fortunes. Here’s a good opportunity for getting something better
than a diamond."
"You are right, D’Artagnan; I held a similar project, but as I had not
nor ever shall have your fruitful, vigorous imagination, the idea was
suggested to me. Every one nowadays wants auxiliaries; propositions have
been made to me and I confess to you frankly that the coadjutor has made
me speak out."
"Monsieur de Gondy! the cardinal’s enemy?"
"No; the king’s friend," said Aramis; "the king’s friend, you
understand. Well, it is a question of serving the king, the gentleman’s
duty."
"But the king is with Mazarin."
"He is, but not willingly; in appearance, not heart; and that is exactly
the snare the king’s enemies are preparing for the poor child."
"Ah! but this is, indeed, civil war which you propose to me, dear
Aramis."
"War for the king."
"Yet the king will be at the head of the army on Mazarin’s side."
"But his heart will be in the army commanded by the Duc de Beaufort."
"Monsieur de Beaufort? He is at Vincennes."
"Did I say Monsieur de Beaufort? Monsieur de Beaufort or another.
Monsieur de Beaufort or Monsieur le Prince."
"But Monsieur le Prince is to set out for the army; he is entirely
devoted to the cardinal."
"Oh oh!" said Aramis, "there are questions between them at this very
moment. And besides, if it is not the prince, then Monsieur de
Gondy----"
"But Monsieur de Gondy is to be made a cardinal; they are soliciting the
hat for him."
"And are there no cardinals that can fight? Come now, recall the four
cardinals that at the head of armies have equalled Monsieur de Guebriant
and Monsieur de Gassion."
"But a humpbacked general!
"Under the cuirass the hump will not be seen. Besides, remember that
Alexander was lame and Hannibal had but one eye."
"Do you see any great advantage in adhering to this party?" asked
D’Artagnan.
"I foresee in it the aid of powerful princes."
"With the enmity of the government."
"Counteracted by parliament and insurrections."
"That may be done if they can separate the king from his mother."
"That may be done," said Aramis.
"Never!" cried D’Artagnan. "You, Aramis, know Anne of Austria better
than I do. Do you think she will ever forget that her son is her
safeguard, her shield, the pledge for her dignity, for her fortune and
her life? Should she forsake Mazarin she must join her son and go over
to the princes’ side; but you know better than I do that there are
certain reasons why she can never abandon Mazarin."
"Perhaps you are right," said Aramis, thoughtfully; "therefore I shall
not pledge myself."
"To them or to us, do you mean, Aramis?"
"To no one. I am a priest," resumed Aramis. "What have I to do with
politics? I am not obliged to read any breviary. I have a jolly little
circle of witty abbes and pretty women; everything goes on smoothly, so
certainly, dear friend, I shall not meddle in politics."
"Well, listen, my dear Aramis," said D’Artagnan; "your philosophy
convinces me, on my honor. I don’t know what devil of an insect stung me
and made me ambitious. I have a post by which I live; at the death of
Monsieur de Treville, who is old, I may be a captain, which is a very
snug berth for a once penniless Gascon. Instead of running after
adventures I shall accept an invitation from Porthos; I shall go and
shoot on his estate. You know he has estates--Porthos?"
"I should think so, indeed. Ten leagues of wood, of marsh land and
valleys; he is lord of the hill and the plain and is now carrying on a
suit for his feudal rights against the Bishop of Noyon!"
"Good," said D’Artagnan to himself. "That’s what I wanted to know.
Porthos is in Picardy."
Then aloud:
"And he has taken his ancient name of Vallon?"
"To which he adds that of Bracieux, an estate which has been a barony,
by my troth."
"So that Porthos will be a baron."
"I don’t doubt it. The ’Baroness Porthos’ will sound particularly
charming."
And the two friends began to laugh.
"So," D’Artagnan resumed, "you will not become a partisan of Mazarin’s?"
"Nor you of the Prince de Conde?"
"No, let us belong to no party, but remain friends; let us be neither
Cardinalists nor Frondists."
"Adieu, then." And D’Artagnan poured out a glass of wine.
"To old times," he said.
"Yes," returned Aramis. "Unhappily, those times are past."
"Nonsense! They will return," said D’Artagnan. "At all events, if you
want me, remember the Rue Tiquetonne, Hotel de la Chevrette."
"And I shall be at the convent of Jesuits; from six in the morning to
eight at night come by the door. From eight in the evening until six in
the morning come in by the window."
"Adieu, dear friend."
"Oh, I can’t let you go so! I will go with you." And he took his sword
and cloak.
"He wants to be sure that I go away," said D’Artagnan to himself.
Aramis whistled for Bazin, but Bazin was asleep in the ante-chamber, and
Aramis was obliged to shake him by the ear to awake him.
Bazin stretched his arms, rubbed his eyes, and tried to go to sleep
again.
"Come, come, sleepy head; quick, the ladder!"
"But," said Bazin, yawning portentously, "the ladder is still at the
window."
"The other one, the gardener’s. Didn’t you see that Monsieur d’Artagnan
mounted with difficulty? It will be even more difficult to descend."
D’Artagnan was about to assure Aramis that he could descend easily, when
an idea came into his head which silenced him.
Bazin uttered a profound sigh and went out to look for the ladder.
Presently a good, solid, wooden ladder was placed against the window.
"Now then," said D’Artagnan, "this is something like; this is a means of
communication. A woman could go up a ladder like that."
Aramis’s searching look seemed to seek his friend’s thought even at the
bottom of his heart, but D’Artagnan sustained the inquisition with an
air of admirable simplicity. Besides, at that moment he put his foot on
the first step of the ladder and began his descent. In a moment he was
on the ground. Bazin remained at the window.
"Stay there," said Aramis; "I shall return immediately."
The two friends went toward the shed. At their approach Planchet came
out leading the two horses.
"That is good to see," said Aramis. "There is a servant active and
vigilant, not like that lazy fellow Bazin, who is no longer good for
anything since he became connected with the church. Follow us, Planchet;
we shall continue our conversation to the end of the village."
They traversed the width of the village, talking of indifferent things,
then as they reached the last houses:
"Go, then, dear friend," said Aramis, "follow your own career. Fortune
lavishes her smiles upon you; do not let her flee from your embrace. As
for me, I remain in my humility and indolence. Adieu!"
"Thus ’tis quite decided," said D’Artagnan, "that what I have to offer
to you does not tempt you?"
"On the contrary, it would tempt me were I any other man," rejoined
Aramis; "but I repeat, I am made up of contradictions. What I hate
to-day I adore to-morrow, and vice versa. You see that I cannot, like
you, for instance, settle on any fixed plan."
"Thou liest, subtile one," said D’Artagnan to himself. "Thou alone, on
the contrary, knowest how to choose thy object and to gain it
stealthily."
The friends embraced. They descended into the plain by the ladder.
Planchet met them hard by the shed. D’Artagnan jumped into the saddle,
then the old companions in arms again shook hands. D’Artagnan and
Planchet spurred their steeds and took the road to Paris.
But after he had gone about two hundred steps D’Artagnan stopped short,
alighted, threw the bridle of his horse over the arm of Planchet and
took the pistols from his saddle-bow to fasten them to his girdle.
"What’s the matter?" asked Planchet.
"This is the matter: be he ever so cunning he shall never say I was his
dupe. Stand here, don’t stir, turn your back to the road and wait for
me."
Having thus spoken, D’Artagnan cleared the ditch by the roadside and
crossed the plain so as to wind around the village. He had observed
between the house that Madame de Longueville inhabited and the convent
of the Jesuits, an open space surrounded by a hedge.
The moon had now risen and he could see well enough to retrace his road.
He reached the hedge and hid himself behind it; in passing by the house
where the scene which we have related took place, he remarked that the
window was again lighted up and he was convinced that Aramis had not yet
returned to his own apartment and that when he did it would not be
alone.
In truth, in a few minutes he heard steps approaching and low whispers.
Close to the hedge the steps stopped.
D’Artagnan knelt down near the thickest part of the hedge.
Two men, to the astonishment of D’Artagnan, appeared shortly; soon,
however, his surprise vanished, for he heard the murmurs of a soft,
harmonious voice; one of these two men was a woman disguised as a
cavalier.
"Calm yourself, dear Rene," said the soft voice, "the same thing will
never happen again. I have discovered a sort of subterranean passage
which runs beneath the street and we shall only have to raise one of the
marble slabs before the door to open you an entrance and an outlet."
"Oh!" answered another voice, which D’Artagnan instantly recognized as
that of Aramis. "I swear to you, princess, that if your reputation did
not depend on precautions and if my life alone were jeopardized----"
"Yes, yes! I know you are as brave and venturesome as any man in the
world, but you do not belong to me alone; you belong to all our party.
Be prudent! sensible!"
"I always obey, madame, when I am commanded by so gentle a voice."
He kissed her hand tenderly.
"Ah!" exclaimed the cavalier with a soft voice.
"What’s the matter?" asked Aramis.
"Do you not see that the wind has blown off my hat?"
Aramis rushed after the fugitive hat. D’Artagnan took advantage of the
circumstance to find a place in the hedge not so thick, where his glance
could penetrate to the supposed cavalier. At that instant, the moon,
inquisitive, perhaps, like D’Artagnan, came from behind a cloud and by
her light D’Artagnan recognized the large blue eyes, the golden hair and
the classic head of the Duchess de Longueville.
Aramis returned, laughing, one hat on his head and the other in his
hand; and he and his companion resumed their walk toward the convent.
"Good!" said D’Artagnan, rising and brushing his knees; "now I have
thee--thou art a Frondeur and the lover of Madame de Longueville."
10. Monsieur Porthos du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.
Thanks to what Aramis had told him, D’Artagnan, who knew already that
Porthos called himself Du Vallon, was now aware that he styled himself,
from his estate, De Bracieux; and that he was, on account of this
estate, engaged in a lawsuit with the Bishop of Noyon. It was, then, in
the neighborhood of Noyon that he must seek that estate. His itinerary
was promptly determined: he would go to Dammartin, from which place two
roads diverge, one toward Soissons, the other toward Compiegne; there he
would inquire concerning the Bracieux estate and go to the right or to
the left according to the information obtained.
Planchet, who was still a little concerned for his safety after his
recent escapade, declared that he would follow D’Artagnan even to the
end of the world, either by the road to the right or by that to the
left; only he begged his former master to set out in the evening, for
greater security to himself. D’Artagnan suggested that he should send
word to his wife, so that she might not be anxious about him, but
Planchet replied with much sagacity that he was very sure his wife would
not die of anxiety through not knowing where he was, while he, Planchet,
remembering her incontinence of tongue, would die of anxiety if she did
know.
This reasoning seemed to D’Artagnan so satisfactory that he no further
insisted; and about eight o’clock in the evening, the time when the
vapors of night begin to thicken in the streets, he left the Hotel de la
Chevrette, and followed by Planchet set forth from the capital by way of
the Saint Denis gate.
At midnight the two travelers were at Dammartin, but it was then too
late to make inquiries--the host of the Cygne de la Croix had gone to
bed.
The next morning D’Artagnan summoned the host, one of those sly Normans
who say neither yes nor no and fear to commit themselves by giving a
direct answer. D’Artagnan, however, gathered from his equivocal replies
that the road to the right was the one he ought to take, and on that
uncertain information he resumed his journey. At nine in the morning he
reached Nanteuil and stopped for breakfast. His host here was a good
fellow from Picardy, who gave him all the information he needed. The
Bracieux estate was a few leagues from Villars-Cotterets.
D’Artagnan was acquainted with Villars-Cotterets, having gone thither
with the court on several occasions; for at that time Villars-Cotterets
was a royal residence. He therefore shaped his course toward that place
and dismounted at the Dauphin d’Or. There he ascertained that the
Bracieux estate was four leagues distant, but that Porthos was not at
Bracieux. Porthos had, in fact, been involved in a dispute with the
Bishop of Noyon in regard to the Pierrefonds property, which adjoined
his own, and weary at length of a legal controversy which was beyond his
comprehension, he put an end to it by purchasing Pierrefonds and added
that name to his others. He now called himself Du Vallon de Bracieux de
Pierrefonds, and resided on his new estate.
The travelers were therefore obliged to stay at the hotel until the next
day; the horses had done ten leagues that day and needed rest. It is
true they might have taken others, but there was a great forest to pass
through and Planchet, as we have seen, had no liking for forests after
dark.
There was another thing that Planchet had no liking for and that was
starting on a journey with a hungry stomach. Accordingly, D’Artagnan, on
awaking, found his breakfast waiting for him. It need not be said that
Planchet in resuming his former functions resumed also his former
humility and was not ashamed to make his breakfast on what was left by
D’Artagnan.
It was nearly eight o’clock when they set out again. Their course was
clearly defined: they were to follow the road toward Compiegne and on
emerging from the forest turn to the right.
The morning was beautiful, and in this early springtime the birds sang
on the trees and the sunbeams shone through the misty glades, like
curtains of golden gauze.
In other parts of the forest the light could scarcely penetrate through
the foliage, and the stems of two old oak trees, the refuge of the
squirrel, startled by the travelers, were in deep shadow.
There came up from all nature in the dawn of day a perfume of herbs,
flowers and leaves, which delighted the heart. D’Artagnan, sick of the
closeness of Paris, thought that when a man had three names of his
different estates joined one to another, he ought to be very happy in
such a paradise; then he shook his head, saying, "If I were Porthos and
D’Artagnan came to make me such a proposition as I am going to make to
him, I know what I should say to it."
As to Planchet, he thought of little or nothing, but was happy as a
hunting-hound in his old master’s company.
At the extremity of the wood D’Artagnan perceived the road that had been
described to him, and at the end of the road he saw the towers of an
immense feudal castle.
"Oh! oh!" he said, "I fancied this castle belonged to the ancient branch
of Orleans. Can Porthos have negotiated for it with the Duc de
Longueville?"
"Faith!" exclaimed Planchet, "here’s land in good condition; if it
belongs to Monsieur Porthos I wish him joy."
"Zounds!" cried D’Artagnan, "don’t call him Porthos, nor even Vallon;
call him De Bracieux or De Pierrefonds; thou wilt knell out damnation to
my mission otherwise."
As he approached the castle which had first attracted his eye,
D’Artagnan was convinced that it could not be there that his friend
dwelt; the towers, though solid and as if built yesterday, were open and
broken. One might have fancied that some giant had cleaved them with
blows from a hatchet.
On arriving at the extremity of the castle D’Artagnan found himself
overlooking a beautiful valley, in which, at the foot of a charming
little lake, stood several scattered houses, which, humble in their
aspect, and covered, some with tiles, others with thatch, seemed to
acknowledge as their sovereign lord a pretty chateau, built about the
beginning of the reign of Henry IV., and surmounted by four stately,
gilded weather-cocks. D’Artagnan no longer doubted that this was
Porthos’s pleasant dwelling place.
The road led straight up to the chateau which, compared to its ancestor
on the hill, was exactly what a fop of the coterie of the Duc d’Enghein
would have been beside a knight in steel armor in the time of Charles
VII. D’Artagnan spurred his horse on and pursued his road, followed by
Planchet at the same pace.
In ten minutes D’Artagnan reached the end of an alley regularly planted
with fine poplars and terminating in an iron gate, the points and
crossed bars of which were gilt. In the midst of this avenue was a
nobleman, dressed in green and with as much gilding about him as the
iron gate, riding on a tall horse. On his right hand and his left were
two footmen, with the seams of their dresses laced. A considerable
number of clowns were assembled and rendered homage to their lord.
"Ah!" said D’Artagnan to himself, "can this be the Seigneur du Vallon de
Bracieux de Pierrefonds? Well-a-day! how he has shrunk since he gave up
the name of Porthos!"
"This cannot be Monsieur Porthos," observed Planchet replying, as it
were, to his master’s thoughts. "Monsieur Porthos was six feet high;
this man is scarcely five."
"Nevertheless," said D’Artagnan, "the people are bowing very low to this
person."
As he spoke, he rode toward the tall horse--to the man of importance and
his valets. As he approached he seemed to recognize the features of this
individual.
"Jesu!" cried Planchet, "can it be?"
At this exclamation the man on horseback turned slowly and with a lofty
air, and the two travelers could see, displayed in all their brilliancy,
the large eyes, the vermilion visage, and the eloquent smile
of--Mousqueton.
It was indeed Mousqueton--Mousqueton, as fat as a pig, rolling about
with rude health, puffed out with good living, who, recognizing
D’Artagnan and acting very differently from the hypocrite Bazin, slipped
off his horse and approached the officer with his hat off, so that the
homage of the assembled crowd was turned toward this new sun, which
eclipsed the former luminary.
"Monsieur d’Artagnan! Monsieur d’Artagnan!" cried Mousqueton, his fat
cheeks swelling out and his whole frame perspiring with joy; "Monsieur
d’Artagnan! oh! what joy for my lord and master, Du Vallon de Bracieux
de Pierrefonds!"
"Thou good Mousqueton! where is thy master?"
"You stand upon his property!"
"But how handsome thou art--how fat! thou hast prospered and grown
stout!" and D’Artagnan could not restrain his astonishment at the change
good fortune had produced on the once famished one.
"Hey, yes, thank God, I am pretty well," said Mousqueton.
"But hast thou nothing to say to thy friend Planchet?"
"How, my friend Planchet? Planchet--art thou there?" cried Mousqueton,
with open arms and eyes full of tears.
"My very self," replied Planchet; "but I wanted first to see if thou
wert grown proud."
"Proud toward an old friend? never, Planchet! thou wouldst not have
thought so hadst thou known Mousqueton well."
"So far so well," answered Planchet, alighting, and extending his arms
to Mousqueton, the two servants embraced with an emotion which touched
those who were present and made them suppose that Planchet was a great
lord in disguise, so highly did they estimate the position of
Mousqueton.
"And now, sir," resumed Mousqueton, when he had rid himself of Planchet,
who had in vain tried to clasp his hands behind his friend’s fat back,
"now, sir, allow me to leave you, for I could not permit my master to
hear of your arrival from any but myself; he would never forgive me for
not having preceded you."
"This dear friend," said D’Artagnan, carefully avoiding to utter either
the former name borne by Porthos or his new one, "then he has not
forgotten me?"
"Forgotten--he!" cried Mousqueton; "there’s not a day, sir, that we
don’t expect to hear that you were made marshal either instead of
Monsieur de Gassion, or of Monsieur de Bassompierre."
On D’Artagnan’s lips there played one of those rare and melancholy
smiles which seemed to emanate from the depth of his soul--the last
trace of youth and happiness that had survived life’s disillusions.
"And you--fellows," resumed Mousqueton, "stay near Monsieur le Comte
d’Artagnan and pay him every attention in your power whilst I go to
prepare my lord for his visit."
And mounting his horse Mousqueton rode off down the avenue on the grass
at a hand gallop.
"Ah, there! there’s something promising," said D’Artagnan. "No
mysteries, no cloak to hide one’s self in, no cunning policy here;
people laugh outright, they weep for joy here. I see nothing but faces a
yard broad; in short, it seems to me that nature herself wears a holiday
garb, and that the trees, instead of leaves and flowers, are covered
with red and green ribbons as on gala days."
"As for me," said Planchet, "I seem to smell, from this place, even, a
most delectable perfume of fine roast meat, and to see the scullions in
a row by the hedge, hailing our approach. Ah! sir, what a cook must
Monsieur Pierrefonds have, when he was so fond of eating and drinking,
even whilst he was only called Monsieur Porthos!"
"Say no more!" cried D’Artagnan. "If the reality corresponds with
appearances I am lost; for a man so well off will never change his happy
condition, and I shall fail with him, as I have already done with
Aramis."
11. Wealth does not necessarily produce Happiness.
D’Artagnan passed through the iron gate and arrived in front of the
chateau. He alighted as he saw a species of giant on the steps. Let us
do justice to D’Artagnan. Independently of every selfish wish, his heart
palpitated with joy when he saw that tall form and martial demeanor,
which recalled to him a good and brave man.
He ran to Porthos and threw himself into his arms; the whole body of
servants, arranged in a semi-circle at a respectful distance, looked on
with humble curiosity. Mousqueton, at the head of them, wiped his eyes.
Porthos linked his arm in that of his friend.
"Ah! how delightful to see you again, dear friend!" he cried, in a voice
which was now changed from a baritone into a bass, "you’ve not then
forgotten me?"
"Forget you! oh! dear Du Vallon, does one forget the happiest days of
flowery youth, one’s dearest friends, the dangers we have dared
together? On the contrary, there is not an hour we have passed together
that is not present to my memory."
"Yes, yes," said Porthos, trying to give to his mustache a curl which it
had lost whilst he had been alone. "Yes, we did some fine things in our
time and we gave that poor cardinal a few threads to unravel."
And he heaved a sigh.
"Under any circumstances," he resumed, "you are welcome, my dear friend;
you will help me to recover my spirits; to-morrow we will hunt the hare
on my plain, which is a superb tract of land, or pursue the deer in my
woods, which are magnificent. I have four harriers which are considered
the swiftest in the county, and a pack of hounds which are unequalled
for twenty leagues around."
And Porthos heaved another sigh.
"But, first," interposed D’Artagnan, "you must present me to Madame du
Vallon."
A third sigh from Porthos.
"I lost Madame du Vallon two years ago," he said, "and you find me still
in affliction on that account. That was the reason why I left my Chateau
du Vallon near Corbeil, and came to my estate, Bracieux. Poor Madame du
Vallon! her temper was uncertain, but she came at last to accustom
herself to my little ways and understand my little wishes."
"So you are free now, and rich?"
"Alas!" groaned Porthos, "I am a widower and have forty thousand francs
a year. Let us go to breakfast."
"I shall be happy to do so; the morning air has made me hungry."
"Yes," said Porthos; "my air is excellent."
They went into the chateau; there was nothing but gilding, high and low;
the cornices were gilt, the mouldings were gilt, the legs and arms of
the chairs were gilt. A table, ready set out, awaited them.
"You see," said Porthos, "this is my usual style."
"Devil take me!" answered D’Artagnan, "I wish you joy of it. The king
has nothing like it."
"No," answered Porthos, "I hear it said that he is very badly fed by the
cardinal, Monsieur de Mazarin. Taste this cutlet, my dear D’Artagnan;
’tis off one of my sheep."
"You have very tender mutton and I wish you joy of it." said D’Artagnan.
"Yes, the sheep are fed in my meadows, which are excellent pasture."
"Give me another cutlet."
"No, try this hare, which I had killed yesterday in one of my warrens."
"Zounds! what a flavor!" cried D’Artagnan; "ah! they are fed on thyme
only, your hares."
"And how do you like my wine?" asked Porthos; "it is pleasant, isn’t
it?"
"Capital!"
"It is nothing, however, but a wine of the country."
"Really?"
"Yes, a small declivity to the south, yonder on my hill, gives me twenty
hogsheads."
"Quite a vineyard, hey?"
Porthos sighed for the fifth time--D’Artagnan had counted his sighs. He
became curious to solve the problem.
"Well now," he said, "it seems, my dear friend, that something vexes
you; you are ill, perhaps? That health, which----"
"Excellent, my dear friend; better than ever. I could kill an ox with a
blow of my fist."
"Well, then, family affairs, perhaps?"
"Family! I have, happily, only myself in the world to care for."
"But what makes you sigh?"
"My dear fellow," replied Porthos, "to be candid with you, I am not
happy."
"You are not happy, Porthos? You who have chateau, meadows, mountains,
woods--you who have forty thousand francs a year--you--are--not--happy?"
"My dear friend, all those things I have, but I am a hermit in the midst
of superfluity."
"Surrounded, I suppose, only by clodhoppers, with whom you could not
associate."
Porthos turned rather pale and drank off a large glass of wine.
"No; but just think, there are paltry country squires who have all some
title or another and pretend to go back as far as Charlemagne, or at
least to Hugh Capet. When I first came here; being the last comer, it
was for me to make the first advances. I made them, but you know, my
dear friend, Madame du Vallon----"
Porthos, in pronouncing these words, seemed to gulp down something.
"Madame du Vallon was of doubtful gentility. She had, in her first
marriage--I don’t think, D’Artagnan, I am telling you anything
new--married a lawyer; they thought that ’nauseous;’ you can understand
that’s a word bad enough to make one kill thirty thousand men. I have
killed two, which has made people hold their tongues, but has not made
me their friend. So that I have no society; I live alone; I am sick of
it--my mind preys on itself."
D’Artagnan smiled. He now saw where the breastplate was weak, and
prepared the blow.
"But now," he said, "that you are a widower, your wife’s connection
cannot injure you."
"Yes, but understand me; not being of a race of historic fame, like the
De Courcys, who were content to be plain sirs, or the Rohans, who didn’t
wish to be dukes, all these people, who are all either vicomtes or
comtes go before me at church in all the ceremonies, and I can say
nothing to them. Ah! If I only were a----"
"A baron, don’t you mean?" cried D’Artagnan, finishing his friend’s
sentence.
"Ah!" cried Porthos; "would I were but a baron!"
"Well, my friend, I am come to give you this very title which you wish
for so much."
Porthos gave a start that shook the room; two or three bottles fell and
were broken. Mousqueton ran thither, hearing the noise.
Porthos waved his hand to Mousqueton to pick up the bottles.
"I am glad to see," said D’Artagnan, "that you have still that honest
lad with you."
"He is my steward," replied Porthos; "he will never leave me. Go away
now, Mouston."
"So he’s called Mouston," thought D’Artagnan; "’tis too long a word to
pronounce ’Mousqueton.’"
"Well," he said aloud, "let us resume our conversation later, your
people may suspect something; there may be spies about. You can suppose,
Porthos, that what I have to say relates to most important matters."
"Devil take them; let us walk in the park," answered Porthos, "for the
sake of digestion."
"Egad," said D’Artagnan, "the park is like everything else and there are
as many fish in your pond as rabbits in your warren; you are a happy
man, my friend since you have not only retained your love of the chase,
but acquired that of fishing."
"My friend," replied Porthos, "I leave fishing to Mousqueton,--it is a
vulgar pleasure,--but I shoot sometimes; that is to say, when I am dull,
and I sit on one of those marble seats, have my gun brought to me, my
favorite dog, and I shoot rabbits."
"Really, how very amusing!"
"Yes," replied Porthos, with a sigh, "it is amusing."
D’Artagnan now no longer counted the sighs. They were innumerable.
"However, what had you to say to me?" he resumed; "let us return to that
subject."
"With pleasure," replied D’Artagnan; "I must, however, first frankly
tell you that you must change your mode of life."
"How?"
"Go into harness again, gird on your sword, run after adventures, and
leave as in old times a little of your fat on the roadside."
"Ah! hang it!" said Porthos.
"I see you are spoiled, dear friend; you are corpulent, your arm has no
longer that movement of which the late cardinal’s guards have so many
proofs."
"Ah! my fist is strong enough I swear," cried Porthos, extending a hand
like a shoulder of mutton.
"So much the better."
"Are we then to go to war?"
"By my troth, yes."
"Against whom?"
"Are you a politician, friend?"
"Not in the least."
"Are you for Mazarin or for the princes?"
"I am for no one."
"That is to say, you are for us. Well, I tell you that I come to you
from the cardinal."
This speech was heard by Porthos in the same sense as if it had still
been in the year 1640 and related to the true cardinal.
"Ho! ho! What are the wishes of his eminence?"
"He wishes to have you in his service."
"And who spoke to him of me?"
"Rochefort--you remember him?"
"Yes, pardieu! It was he who gave us so much trouble and kept us on the
road so much; you gave him three sword-wounds in three separate
engagements."
"But you know he is now our friend?"
"No, I didn’t know that. So he cherishes no resentment?"
"You are mistaken, Porthos," said D’Artagnan. "It is I who cherish no
resentment."
Porthos didn’t understand any too clearly; but then we know that
understanding was not his strong point. "You say, then," he continued,
"that the Count de Rochefort spoke of me to the cardinal?"
"Yes, and the queen, too."
"The queen, do you say?"
"To inspire us with confidence she has even placed in Mazarin’s hands
that famous diamond--you remember all about it--that I once sold to
Monsieur des Essarts and of which, I don’t know how, she has regained
possession."
"But it seems to me," said Porthos, "that she would have done much
better if she had given it back to you."
"So I think," replied D’Artagnan; "but kings and queens are strange
beings and have odd fancies; nevertheless, since they are the ones who
have riches and honors, we are devoted to them."
"Yes, we are devoted to them," repeated Porthos; "and you--to whom are
you devoted now?"
"To the king, the queen, and to the cardinal; moreover, I have answered for your devotion also." |
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