Manuscript, Archives,
and Rare Book Library
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M. CROMMELIN.
My Love She's but a
Lassie Yet.
Queenie.
A Jewel of a Girl.
Orange Lily.
Black Abbey.
Mrs. CROWE.
Night Side of Nature.
Susan Hopley.
Linny Lockwood.
CHAS. DICKENS.
The Pickwick Papers.
Sketches by Bo/..
Nicholas Nicklcby.
Oliver Twist.
Martin Chuzzlewit.
Grimaldi, the Clown.
Dombey and Son.
ALEX. DUMAS.
The Half-Brothers.
Marguerite de Valois.
I The Mohicans of Paris,
i The Three Musketeers.
' Twenty Years After.
I Chicot, the Jester.
The 45 Guardsmen.
EMORY UNIVERSITY
i ne uowager.
JAMES GRANT.
Romance of War.
The Aide-de-Camp.
The Scottish Cavalier.
Bothwell.
Jane Seton; or, The
Queen's Advocate.
Philip Rollo.
Legends of the Black
Watch.
Mary of Lorraine.
Oliver Ellis; or, The
Fusiliers.
Lucy Arden ; or, Holly-
wood Hall.
Frank Hilton.
The Yellow Frigate.
Harry Ogilvie; or, The
Black Dragoons.
Arthur Blane.
Laura Everingham.
Captain of the Guard.
Letty Hyde's Lovers.
Cavaliers of Fortune.
Second to None.
Constable of France.
The Phantom Regiment.
The Cameronians.
The Dead Tryst.
Author of "Guy
Livingstone."
Guy Livingstone.
Barren Honour.
Maurice Dering.
Brakespeare.
Anteros.
Breaking a Butterfly.
Sans Merci.
Sword and Gown.
THEODORE HOOK.
Peregrine Bunce.
Cousin Geoffry.
Gilbert Gurney.
The Parson's Daughter
All in the Wrong.
Widow and Marquess.
Gurney Married.
Jack Brag.
Maxwell.
Man of Many Friends.
Passion and Principle.
Merton.
Gervase Skinner.
Cousin William.
Fathers and Sons.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE &> SONS.
NOVELS AT TWO SHILLINGS, continued.
G. P.R.JAMES.
The Brigand.
Morley Ernstein.
Da'rnley.
Richelieu.
The Gipsy.
Arabella Stuart.
The Woodman.
Agincourt.
Russell.
The King's Highway.
Castle of Ehrenstein.
The Stepmother.
Forest Days.
The Huguenot
The Man at Arms.
A Whim and its Con-
sequences. .
Henry Masterton.
The Convict. .
Mary of Burgundy,
Attila.
Margaret Graham.
Gowrie.
Delaware.
Henry of Guise.
Dark Scenes of History.
The Robber.
One in a Thousand.
The Smuggler.
De L'Orme.
Heidelberg.
Charles Tyrrell.
The False Heir.
Castleneau.
SirTheodore Broughton.
The Forgery.
The Gentleman of the
Old School.
Thejacquerife. •
Philip Augustus.
The Black Eagle.
Rose D'Albret.
The Old Dominion.
Leonora D'Orco.
John Marsfon Ilall.
Beatichamp.
Arrah Neil.
My Aunt Pontypool.
R. M. JEPHSON.
Tom Bullkley of Lis-
sington.
The.Qirl He Left Behind
Him.
A Pink Wedding, /
The Roll of the Drum.
With the Colours. ;
HENRY EINGSLEY.
Stretton. . j
Old: Margaret.
The-Harveys. ,' .
Hornby'' Mills. :
JOHN LANG.
Will He Marry Her T
The Ex-Wife.
CHARLES LEVER.
Arthur O'Leary.
Con Cregan.
Horace Templeton.
S. LOVER.
Rory O'More.
Handy Andy.
Lord LYTTON.
Pelham.
Paul Clifford.
Eugene Aram.
Last Days of Pompeii.
Rienzi.
Leila, and Pilgrims of
the Rhine.
The Last of the Barons.
Ernest Maltravers.
Alice; or, The Mysteries.
Night and Morning.
Godolphin-.
The Disowned.
Devereux.
The Caxtons.
My Novel, a vols.
Lucretia.
Harold.
Zanoni,
What will He Do with
It ? z vols.
A Strange Story.
The Coming Race.
Kenelm Chillingly.
The Parisians, 2 vols.
Falkland, and Zicci.
Pausanius.
Capt. MARRYAT.
(Standard. Novels), in bds.
Jacob Faithful.
Japhet in Search of a
Father.
The King's Own.
Midshipman Easy.
Newton Forster.
Pacha of Many Tales.
Rattlin the Rdefer.
The Poacher.
The Phantom Ship.
The Dog Fiend.
Percival Keene.
Frank Mildmay.
Peter Simple.
W; H. MAXWELL;
Stories of Waterloo.
Brian O'Linn ; or, Luck
is Everything.
Captain Blake.
The Bivouac.
Hector O'Halloran.
Captain O'Sullivan.
Stories of the Penin-
sular War.
Wild Sports in the West.
W. j. N. NEALE.
The Lost Ship.
The Captain's Wife.
The Pride of the Mess.
The Flying Dutchman.
Will Watch.
Cavendish.
Gentleman Jack.
Mrs. RADCLIFFE.
Mysteries of Udolpho.
Romance of the Forest.
MAYNE REID.
The Quadroon.
The War Trail.
The Scalp Hunters.
The Rifle Rangers.
The Maroon.
The White Chief.
The Wild Huntress.
The White Gauntlet.
The Half-Blood.
Headless Horseman.
Lost Lenore.
The Hunters' Feast.
The Wood Rangers.
The Tiger Hunter.
The Boy Slaves.
The Cliff Climbers.
The Giraffe Hunters.
Afloat in the Forest.
The Ocean Waifs. •
The White Squaw.
The Fatal Cord.
The Guerilla Chief. .
RICHARDSON.
Clarissa Harlowe.
Pamela.
Sir Charles Grandison.
Sir WALTER SCOTT.
Waverley.
Guy Mannering.
Old Mortality.
Heart of Midlothian.
Rob Roy.
Ivanhoe.
The Antiquary.
Bride of Lammermoor.
The Black Dwarf, and A
Legend of Montrose.
The Monastery.
The Abbot.
Kenilworth.
The Pirate.
The Fortunes of Nigel.
Peveril of the Peak.
Quentin Durward.
St. Ronan's Well.
Redgauntlet,
The Betrothed and High-
land Widow.
The Talisman, and Two
'Drovers.
Woodstock.
The Fair Maid of Perth.
Anne of Geierstein.
Count Robert of Paris.
TheSurgeon'sDaughter.
GEORGE ROUT LEDGE &. SONS.
2
NOVELS AT TWO SHILLINGS, continued.
ALBERT SMITH.
The Marchioness of
Brirrvilliers. [bury.
Adventures of Mr. Lea-
Scattergood Family.
Christopher Tadpole.
The PottLeton Legacy.
SMOLLETT.
Roderick Random.
Humphry Clinker.
Peregrine Pickle.
ANNIE THOMAS.
False Colours.
The Dower House.
The Cross of Honour.
ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
GoldenLion of Granpere
John Caldigate.
Mrs. TROLLOPE.
One Fault.
The Widow Barnaby.
The Widow Married. i
The Ward.
Love and Jealousy.
JULES VERNE.
Adventures of Captain
Hatteras.
Twenty Thousand
Leagues under the Sea.
Five Weeks in a Bal- j
loon, and a Journey to
Centre of the Lartn.
Miss WETHERELL.
The Old Helmet.
Melbourne House.
Ellen Montgomery's
Bookshelf.
The Two School Girls.
The Wide, Wide World.
Queechy.
Author of' Whitefriars'
Whitefnars.
VARIOUS AUTHORS.
Whitehall.
Caesar Borgia.
Owen Tudor.
The Maid of Orleans.
Westminster Abbey.
Madeleine Graham.
Armourer's Daughter.
EDMUND YATES.
Running the Gauntlet.
Kissing the Rod.
The Rock Ahead.
Black Sheep.
A Righted Wrong.
The Yellow Flag.
The Impending Sword.
A Waiting Race.
Broken to Harness.
Two by Tricks.
A Silent Witness, [tient.
Dr. Wainwright's Pa-
Wrecked in Port.
Business of Pleasure.
Caleb Williams, by Godwin.
The Scottish Chiefs, by Miss Porter.
Torlogh O'Brien, by Le Fanu.
The Hour and the Man. Martineau.
The Pastor's Fireside. Jane Porter.
The Prairie Bird, by Sir C. Murray.
The Rifleman, by Capt. Rafter.
Salathiel, by Dr. Croly.
The Clockmaker, by " Sam Slick."
The Two Frigates, by Cupples.
The Bashful Irishman.
Deeds, Not Words, by M. M. Bell.
The Secret of a Life, ditto.
Murder will Out.
Sir Roland Ashton, by Lady C. Long.
The Greatest Plague of Life, with
Cruikshank's Plates.
The Attache, by " Sam Slick."
The Green Hand, by Cupples.
Hajji Baba of Ispahan, by Morier.
Whom to Marry, with Cruikshank's
Plates. [" Sam Slick."
Letter Bag of fhe Great Western, by
Black and Gold, by P. Sanders.
Vidocq, the French Police Spy.
Gilderoy, by Fittis.
Singleton Fontenoy, by Hannay.
The Lamplighter, by Miss Cummins.
Gideon Giles the Roper. T. Miller.
The Wandering Jew, by Sue.
The Mysteries of Paris, ditto.
Land and Sea Tales, " Old Sailor."
Mabel Vaughan, by Miss Cummins.
Peep o' Day, by Banim.
The Smuggler, ditto.
Stuart of Dunleath. Hon.Mrs.Norton.
Adventures of a Strolling Player.
The Solitary Hunter, by Palisser.
Kaloolah, by Mayo.
Won in a Canter, by " Old Calabar."
Blount Tempest. J. C. M. Bellew.
Mornings at Bow Street, with Cruik-
shank's Plates.
The Arctic Regions. P. L. Simmonds.
Miss Forrester. Author of " Archie
LovelL"
The Pretty Widow, by Chas. Ross.
Recommended to Mercy.
Love Stories of English Watering
Places.
Saved by a Woman, by Author of
" No Appeal."
At His Gates, by Mrs. Oliphant.
Helen, by Miss Edgeworth.
First Lieutenant's Story. Lady Long.
Clement Lorimer, by A. B. Reach.
Tom Cringle's Log. Michael Scott.
Private Life of an Eastern King.
Hearths & Watchfires. Col. Colomb.
The City of the Sultan, Miss Pardoe.
Through the Mist, byjeanie Hering.
Tales of the Coastguard. Warneford.
Leonard Lindsay, by A. B. Reach.
Traits and Stories of Irish Peasantry,
ist & 2nd series, 2 vols. Carleton.
Romance of Military Life.
Robber of the Rhine, by Ritchie.
The Polish Lancer, by Reelstab.
Jasper Lyle, by Mrs. Ward.
Flower of the Forest, by St. John.
Cruise of the Midge, by M. Scott.
Thaddeus of Warsaw. Jane Porter.
The Hazelhurst Mystery.
Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo.
Love or Lucre, by R. Black.
Strafford, by H. B. Baker.
The Prodigal Daughter, Mark Hope.
Madge Dunraven. [Kingston.
Roger Kyffin's Ward, by W. H. G.
Miss Roberts's Fortune. S.Winthrop.
An Uninhabited House. Mrs.Riddell.
Children of the Abbey. R. M. Roche.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE &■ SONS.
3
TWENTY YEARS AFTER
BY
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
author of
" monte cristo," "the three musketeers," etc.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
Broadway, Ludgate Hill
NEW YORK: g, LAFAYETTE PLACE
BY ALEXANDRE -DUMAS,
THE COUNT "OF MONTE CRISTO.
THE THREE MUSKETEERS.
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. Vol. I.
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. Vol. II.
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.
CHICOT THE JESTER.
THE FORTY-FIVE GUARDSMEN.
THE CONSPIRATORS.
THE REGENT'S DAUGHTER.
MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN.
THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE.
TAKING THE BASTILE.
THE COUNTESS DE CHARNY.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE SHADE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU - - I
II. A NIGHTLY PATROL ----- 9
III. OLD ANIMOSITIES - - - - 16
IV. ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT THE AGE OF FORTY-SIX - 26
V. THE GASCON AND THE ITALIAN - - *33
VI. D'ARTAGNAN IN HIS FORTIETH YEAR - 36
VII. TOUCHES UPON THE DIFFERENT EFFECTS WHICH
HALF A PISTOLE MAY PRODUCE UPON A BEDELL
AND A CHORISTER - - - "43
VIII. HOW D'ARTAGNAN, ON GOING TO A DISTANCE TO
FIND OUT ARAMIS, DISCOVERS THAT HIS FRIEND
WAS RIDING BEHIND PLANCHET - 48
IX. THE ABBf D'HERBLAY - - - 53
X. MONSIEUR PORTHOS DE VALON DE BRACIEUX DE
PIERREFONDS - - - - -63
XI. HOW D'ARTAGNAN, IN DISCOVERING THE RETREAT
OF PORTHOS, PERCEIVES THAT WEALTH DOES
NOT PRODUCE HAPPINESS - - -67
XII. IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IF PORTHOS WERE
DISCONTENTED WITH HIS CONDITION, MOUS-
QUETON WAS COMPLETELY SATISFIED WITH HIS 73
XIII. TWO ANGELIC FACES - - - - - 76
XIV. THE CASTLE OF BRAGELONNE - - - 82
XV. ATHOS AS A DIPLOMATIST - - - - 85
XVI. THE DUC DE BEAUFORT - - - "93
XVII. DESCRIBES HOW THE DUC DE BEAUFORT AMUSED
HIS LEISURE HOURS IN THE DONJON OF
VINCENNES ... 97
iV CONTENDS. .
CHAP.
XVIII. GRIMAUD BEGINS HIS FUNCTIONS - - " I04
XIX. IN WHICH THE CONTENTS OF THE PATES MADE BY
THE SUCCESSOR OF FATHER MARTEAU ARE
DESCRIBED - - - - 110
XX. ONE OF MARIE MICIION'S ADVENTURES - "US
XXI. THE ABBE SCARRON - - " - - J20
XXII. SAINT DENIS - - - - - 126
XXIII. ONE OF THE FORTY METHODS OF ESCAPE OF THE
DUC DE BEAUFORT - - ' - 132
XXIV. THE TIMELY ARRIVAL OF D'ARTAGNAN IN PARIS - 138.
XXV. AN ADVENTURE ON THE HIGH ROAD - -143,
XXVI. THE RENCONTRE - - - - -146'
XXVII. THE FOUR OLD FRIENDS PREPARE TO MEET AGAIN 153
XXVIII. THE PLACE ROYALE - - - . 157
£XIX. THE FERRY OVER THE OISE - - - 162^
XXX. SKIRMISHING - - - - ' - - 170
XXXI. THE MONK - - - - - -17$'
XXXII. GRIMAUD SPEAKS - - - - 183
XXXIII. A DINNER IN THE OLD £>TYLE - - - 187 ■
XXXIV. A LETTER FROM CHARLES THE FIRST - - 193
XXXV. CROMWELL'S LETTER - - - - 197
XXXVI. HENRIETTA MARIA AND MAZARIN - - - "202
XXXVII. HOW, SOMETIMES, THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE CHANCE
FOR PROVIDENCE - - - - 206
XXXVIII. THE UNCLE AND THE NEPHEW - - - 212
XXXIX. PATERNAL AFFECTION - - . - - 21$
XL. AGAIN A QUEEN DEMANDING HELP - - 222
XLI. IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT FIRST IMPULSES ARE
ALWAYS BEST - - - - 231
XLII. THE TE.DEUM FOR THE VICTORY OF LENS - 237
XLIII. THE BEGGAR OF ST. EUSTACHE - - 251
XLIV. THE TOWER OF ST. JAQUES-DE-LA-BOUCHERIE - 259
XLV. THE RIOT - - - - ... 264
XLVI. THE RIOT BECOMES A REVOLUTION - - 268
XLVII. MISFORTUNE REFRESHES THE MEMORY - - 27 f
XLVIII. THE INTERVIEW .... - 282
XLIX. THE FLIGHT ... 387
L. THE CARRIAGE OF MONSIEUR LE COADJUTEUR - 297
CONTENTS.
v
CHAP. PAGE
LI. HOW D'ARTAGNAN AND PORTHOS EARNED BY THE
SALE OF STRAW, THE ONE, TWO HUNDRED AND
NINETEEN, AND THE OTHER TWO HUNDRED
AND FIFTEEN, LOUIS D'OR - - " 3°9
LII. IN WHICH WE HEAR TIDINGS OF ARAMIS 316
LIII. THE SCOTCHMAN - - - - 324
LIV. THE AVENGER - - - - 331
LV. OLIVER CROMWELL - - - "339
LVl. MAHOMET ----- - 343
LVII. IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT UNDER THE MOST
TRYING CIRCUMSTANCES NOBLE NATURES NEVER
LOSE THEIR COURAGE, NOR GOOD STOMACHS
THEIR APPETITES - - - "351
LVIII. RESPECT TO FALLEN MAJESTY - - - 356
LIX. D'ARTAGNAN HITS ON A PLAN - - 361
LX. LONDON - - - - 372
LXI. THE TRIAL - - - - - * 375
LXII. WHITEHALL - - - ■ - - 382
-.XIII. THE WORKMEN - - 386
LXIV. REMEMBER! 390
LXV. THE MAN IN THE.MASK ... - 394.
LXVI. CROMWELL'S HOUSE - - - - 399
LXVII. CONVERSATIONAL - ... - 404
LXVIII. THE SKIFF "LIGHTNING" - - - 409
LXIX. PORT WINE - - - - - - 4M
LXX. END OF THE PORT-WINE MYSTERY - - - 420
LXXI. FATALITY - - - - - 4-2
LXXII. HOW MOUSQUETON, AFTER BEING VERY NEARLY
ROASTED, HAD A NARROW ESCAPE OF BEING
EATEN 42S
LXXIII. THE RETURN 432
LXXIV. THE AMBASSADORS - 436
LXXV. THE THREE LIEUTENANTS OF THE GENERALISSIMO - 441
LXXVI. THE BATTLE OF CHARENTON - 447
LXXV 11. THE ROAD TO PICARDY - 452
LXXVIII. THE GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA - - 458
LXXIX, THE ROYALTY OF CARDINAL MAZARIN - - 463
vi
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
LXXX. PRECAUTIONS - - - - - 4^5
LXXXI. STRENGTH AND SAGACITY - - - - 4^9
LXXXII. STRENGTH AND SAGACITY—CONTINUED - - 473
LXXXIII. THE OUBLIETTES OF CARDINAL MAZARIN - - 479
LXXXIV. CONFERENCES ------ 483
LXXXV. IN WHICH WE BEGIN TO THINK THAT PORTHOS WILL
BE AT LAST A BARON, AND D'ARTAGNAN A
CAPTAIN ------ 487
LXXXVI. SHOWS HOW WITH A THREAT AND A/PEN MORE IS
EFFECTED THAN BY THE SWORD - 493
LXXXVII. IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IT IS SOMETIMES MORE
DIFFICULT FOR KINGS TO RETURN TO THE
CAPITALS OF THEIR KINGDOMS THAN TO GO
OUT OF THEM - - - - - 499
CONCLUSION - - - - - 505
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER I.
THE SHADE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU.
In one of the rooms of the Palais Royal, in old times styled the
Palais Cardinal, there sat a man in deep reverie, his head sup-
ported on his hands, leaning over a table, the corners of which
were of silver-gilt, and which was covered with letters and papers.
Behind this figure was a vast fireplace glowing with heat; large
masses of wood blazed and crackled on the gilded andirons, and
the flames shone upon the superb habiliments of the solitary inha-
bitant of the chamber, illumined in the foreground by a candelabra
filled with wax-lights.
Any one who had happened at that moment to contemplate that
red simar—the gorgeous robe of office—and the rich lace—or who
gazed upon that pale brow, bent in anxious meditation, might, in
the solitude of that apartment, combined with the silence of the
ante-chambers, and the measured paces of the guards upon the
landing-place, have fancied that the shade of Cardinal Richelieu
still lingered in his accustomed haunt.
But it was, alas! only the ghost of former greatness. France
enfeebled, the authority of her sovereign rejected, her nobles re-
burning to their former turbulence and insolence, her enemies
within her frontiers—all proved that Richelieu was no longer in
existence.
In truth, that the red simar which occupied his wonted place
was his no longer, was still more strikingly obvious from the isola-
tion which seemed, as we have observed, more appropriate to a
phantom than to a living creature—from the corridors, deserted
2
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
by courtiers, and courts crowded with guards—-from that spirit of
bitter ridicule, whidh, arising from the streets below, penetrated
through the very windows of that room, which resounded with the
murmurs of a whole city leagued against the minister, as well as
from the distant and incessant sounds of guns firing—let off,
happily, without other end or aim, except to show to the guards,
the Swiss troops, and the military who surrounded the Palais
Royal,# that the people were possessed of arms.
The shade of Richelieu was Mazarin. Now Mazarin was alone,
and defenceless—as he well knew.
" Foreigner !" he ejaculated, " Italian ! that is their mean word
of reproach—the watchword with which they assassinated, hanged,
and made away with Concini, and—if I gave them their way—they
would assassinate, hang, and make away with me in the same manner,
although they have nothing to complain of, except a tax or two
now and then. Idiots! ignorant of their real enemies, they do
not perceive that it is not the Italian who speaks French badly,
but those who can say fine things to them in the purest Parisian
accent, who are their real foes.
" Yes, yes," Mazarin continued, whilst his wonted smile, full of
subtlety, gave a strange expression to his pale lips; "yes, these
noises prove to me, indeed, that the destiny of favourites is pre-
carious; but ye should know that I am no ordinary favourite.
No! the Earl of Essex, 'tis true, wore a splendid ring, set with
diamonds, given him by his royal mistress; whilst I—I have
nothing but a simple circlet of gold, with a cypher on it and a
date; but that ring has been blessed in the chapel of the Palais
&oyal,+ so they will never ruin me, as they would do; and whilst
they shout " Down with Mazarin!' I, unknown and unperceived
by them, incite them to cry out, ' Long live the Duke de Beaufort'
one day; another, ' Long live the Prince de Condp;' and again,
£ Long live the Parliament!'" And, at this word, the smile on
the Cardinal's lips assumed an expression of hatred, of which his
mild countenance seemed incapable. " The parliament! We
shall soon see how to dispose," he continued, " of the parliament!
Both Orleans and Montargis are ours. It will be a work of time !
but those who have begun by crying out, ' Down with Mazarin !'
will finish by shouting out, Down with all the people I have men-
tioned, each in his turn.
* The Palais Royal ceased to be called the Palais Cardinal before this
epoch.
+ It is said that Mazarin, who, though a cardinal, had not taken such vows
as to prevent it, was secretly maniecl to Anne of Austria.-—La Porters Memoirs,
The shade of cardinal richelieu.
3
"Richelieu, whom they hated during his lifetime, and whom
they now praise after his death, was even less popular than I am.
Often, was he driven away—oftener still had he a dread of being
sent away. The queen will never banish me; and even were I
obliged to yield to the populace, she would yield with me; if I
fly, she will fly; and then we shall see how the rebels will get on
without either king or queen.
" Oh, were I not a foreigner ! were I but a Frenchman! would
I were even merely a gentleman !"
The position of the Cardinal was, indeed, critical, and several
recent events added to his difficulties. Discontent had long per-
vaded the lower ranks of society in France. Crushed and im-
poverished by taxation—imposed by Mazarin, whose avarice
impelled him to grind them down to the very dust—the people, as
the Advocate-General Talon described it, had nothing left to them
except their souls; and as those could not be sold by auction,
they began to murmur. Patience had in vain been recommended
to them, by reports of brilliant victories gained by France; laurels,
however, were not meat and drink; and the people had for some
time been in a state of discontent.
Had this been all, it might not, perhaps, have greatly signified;
for, when the lower classes alone complained, the court of France,
separated as it was from the poor by the intervening classes of the
gentry and the bourgeoisie, seldom listened to their voice; but,
unluckily, Mazarin had had the imprudence to attack the magis-
trates, and had sold no less than ten appointments in the Court of
Requests, at a high price; and, as the officers of that court paid
very dear for their plaqes, and as the addition of twelve new col-
leagues would necessarily lower the value of each place, the old
functionaries formed an union amongst themselves, and, enraged,
swore on the Bible not* to allow of this addition to their number,
but to resist all the persecutions which might ensue; and should
any one of them chance to forfeit his post by this resistance, to
combine to indemnify him for his loss.
Now the following occurrences had taken place between the two
contending parties.
On the seventh of January between seven and eight hundred
tradesmen had assembled in Paris to discuss a new tax which was
to be levied on house property. They deputed ten of their number
to wait upon the Duke of Orleans, who, according to_ custom,
affected popularity. The duke received them, and they informed
him that they were resolved not to pay this tax, even if they were
obliged to defend themselves against the collectors of it by force of
1—2
4
Twenty years after.
arms. They were listened to with great politeness by the ddke,
who held out hopes of more moderate measures; promised them
to speak in their behalf to the queen; and dismissed them with
the ordinary expression of royalty—" We shall see what we can do."
Two days afterwards these same magistrates appeared before the
Cardinal, and the spokesman among them addressed Mazarin with
so much fearlessness and determination, that the minister was
astounded, and sent the deputation away with the same answer as
it had received from the Duke of Orleans—that he would see what
could be done: and, in accordance with that intention, a council
of state was assembled, and the superintendent of finance was
summoned.
This man, named Emery, was the object of popular detestation
—in the first place, because he was superintendent of finance, and
every superintendent of finance deserved to be hated; in the
second place, because he rather deserved the odium which he had
incurred.
He was the son of a banker at Lyons, named Particelli, who,
after becoming a bankrupt, chose to change his name to Emery;
and Cardinal Richelieu, having discovered in young Emery great
financial aptitude, had introduced him with a strong recommenda-
tion to Louis XIII. under his assumed name, in order that he
might be appointed to the post which he subsequently held.
"You surprise me!" exclaimed the monarch. "I am rejoiced
to hear you speak of Monsieur d'Emery as calculated for a post
which requires a man of probity. I was really afraid that you were,
going to force that villain Particelli upon me."
" Sire," replied Richelieu, " rest assured that Particelli—the man
to whom your majesty refers—has been hanged."
" Ah, so much the better !" exclaimed the king. " It is not for
nothing that I am styled Louis the Just"—and he signed Emery's
appointment
This was the same Emery who had become eventually superin-
tendent of finance.
He was sent for by the ministers, and he came before them pale
and trembling, declaring that his son had very nearly been assas-
sinated the day before near the palace. The mob had insulted
him on account of the ostentatious luxury of his wife, whose house
was hung with red velvet, edged with gold fringe. This lady was
the daughter of Nicholas de Camus, who had arrived in Paris with
twenty francs in his pocket—had become secretary of state—and
had accumulated wealth enough to divide nine millions of francs
among his children, and to keep forty thousand for himself
TIIE SHADE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU,
5
The fact was, that Ejnery's son had run a great chance of being
suffocated; one of the rioters having proposed to squeeze him
until he gave up. all the gold he had swallowed. Nothing there-
fore was settled that day, as Emery's head was not steady enough
for business after such an occurrence.
Other disturbances had followed this outrage.
Matthew Mole, chief president of the parliament, and esteemed
equal in courage to Cond£ and De Beaufort, had been insulted
and threatened. The queen, in going to mass at Notre Dame,
as she always did on Saturdays, was followed by more than two
hundred women, demanding justice. These poor creatures had
no bad intentions. They wished only to be allowed to fall on their
knees before their sovereign, and that they might move her to
compassion; but they were prevented by the royal guard, and the
queen proceeded on her way, haughtily disdainful of their
entreaties.
At length parliament was convoked—the authority of the king
was to be maintained.
One day—it was the morning of that when my story begins—
the king, Louis XIV., then ten years of age, went in state, under
pretext of returning thanks for his recovery from the small-pox, to
Notre Dame. He took the opportunity of calling out his guard,
the Swiss troops, and the Musketeers, and he had planted them
round the Palais Royal, on the quays, and on the Pont Neuf.
After mass, the young monarch drove to the parliament house,
where, upon the throne, he hastily confirmed not only the edicts
which he had already passed, but issued new ones; each one,
according to Cardinal de Retz, more ruinous than the others—a
proceeding which drew forth a strong remonstrance from the chief
president Mole—whilst President Blancmesnil and Councillor
Broussel raised their voices in indignation against fresh taxes.
The king returned amidst the silence of a vast multitude to the
Palais Royal. All minds were uneasy—most were foreboding—
many of the people using threatening language.
At first, indeed, they were doubtful whether the king's visit to
the parliament had been in order to lighten or to increase their
burdens; but scarcely was it known that the taxes were even to be
increased, than cries of " Down with Mazarin!" " Long live
Broussel!" " Long live Blancmesnil!" resounded through the
city. All attempts to disperse the groups now collected in the
streets, or to silence their exclamations, were vain. Orders had
just been given to the royal guard, and to the Swiss Guards, not
pnly to stand firm, but to send out patrols to the streets of Saint
6
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Denis and Saint Martin, where the people thronged, and where
they were the most vociferous, when the Mayor of Paris was
announced at the Palais Royal.
He was shown in directly : he came to say that if these offensive
precautions were not discontinued, in two hours Paris would be
under arms'.
Deliberations were being held, when a lieutenant in the Guards,
named Comminges, made his appearance, with his clothes all torn,
his face streaming with blood. The queen, on seeing him, uttered
a cry of surpise, and asked him what was going on.
As the mayor had foreseen, the sight of the Guards had exas-
perated the mob. The tocsin was sounded. Comminges had
arrested one of the ringleaders, and had ordered him to be hanged
near the cross of Du Trahoir; but, in attempting to execute this
command, the soldiery were attacked in the market-place with
stones and halberds : the delinquents all escaped to the Rue des
Lombards, and rushed into a house. They broke open the doors,
and searched the dwelling, but in vain. Comminges, wounded by
a stone which had struck him on the forehead, had left a picquet
in the street, and returned to the Palais Royal, followed by a
menacing crowd, to tell his story.
This account confirmed that of the mayor. The authorities
were not in a condition to contend with a serious revolt. Mazarin
endeavoured to circulate among the people a report that troops
had only been stationed on the quays, and on the Pont Neuf, on
account of the ceremonial of the day, and' that they would soon
withdraw. In fact, about four o'clock they were all concentrated
about the Palais Royal, the courts and ground floors of which were
filled with Musketeers and Swiss Guards, and there awaited the
event of all this disturbance.
Such was the state of affairs at the very, moment when we
introduced our readers into the study of Cardinal Mazarin—once
that of Cardinal Richelieu. We have seen in what state of mind
he listened to the murmurs from below, which even reached him
in his seclusion, and to the guns, the firing of which resounded in
that room. All at once he raised his head : his brow slightly con-
tracted, like that of a man who has formed a resolution; he fixed
his eyes upon an enormous clock which was about to strike ten,
and taking up a whistle, of silver gilt, which was placed on the
table near him, he whistled twice.
A door hidden in the tapestry opened noiselessly, and a man in
black stood behind the chair on which Mazarin sat.
" Bernouin," said the Cardinal, not turning round, for, having
THE SHADE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 7
whistled, he knew that it was his valet-de-chambre who was behind
him, " what Musketeers are there in the palace ?"
"The Black Musketeers, my lord."
" What company ?"
"Treville's company."
"Is there any.officer belonging to this company in the ante
chamber ?"
"Lieutenant d'Artagnan."
"A man on whom we can depend, I hope."
"Yes, my lord."
" Give me a uniform of one of these Musketeers, and help me
to dress."
The valet went out as silently as he came in, and appeared in a
few minutes, bringing the dress which was asked for.
The Cardinal, in deep thought, and in silence, began to take off
the robes of state which he had assumed in order to be present at
the sitting of parliament, and to attire himself in the military coat,
which he wore with a certain degree of easy grace, owing to his former
campaigns in Italy. When he was completely dressed, he said:
"Bring Monsieur d'Artagnan hither."
The valet went out of the room, this time by the centre door,
but 'still as silently as before : one might have fancied him an ap-
parition.
■ When he was left alone, the Cardinal looked at himself in the
glass with a feeling of self-satisfaction. Still young—for he was
scarcely forty-six years of age—he possessed great elegance of
form, and was above the middle height; his complexion was
brilliant and.beautiful; his glance full cf expression; his nose,
though large, was well proportioned; his forehead broad and
majestic; his hair, of a chestnut colour, was rather frizzed; his
beard, which was darker than his hair, was turned carefully with a
curling-iron, a practice which greatly improved it. After a short
time the Cardinal arranged his shoulder-belt, then looked with
great, complacency at his hands, which were very beautiful, and of
which he took the greatest care; and throwing on one side the
large kid gloves which he tried on at first, as belonging to the uni-
form, he put on others of silk only. At this instant the door
opened.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the valet-de-chambre.
» An officer, as he spoke, entered the apartment. He was a man
between thirty-nine and forty years of age, of a small but well-
proportioned figure; thin, with an intellectual and animated phy-
siognomy; his beard black, and his hair turning grey, as often
o
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
happens when people have found this life either too gay or too
sad, more especially when they happen to be of a dark com-
plexion.
D'Artagnan advanced a few steps into the apartment. How
perfectly he remembered his former entrance into that very room.
Seeing, however, no one there except a Musketeer of his own
troop, he fixed his eyes upon the supposed soldier, in whose dress,
nevertheless, he recognised, at the first glance, the Cardinal.
The lieutenant remained standing in a dignified but respectful
posture; such as became a man of good birth, who had in the
course of his life been frequently in the society of the highest
nobles.
The Cardinal looked at him with a glance, cunning rather than
serious ; yet he examined his countenance with attention, and after
a momentary silence, said :
"You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
" I am that individual," replied the officer.
Mazarin gazed once more at a countenance full of intelligence,
the play of which had been nevertheless subdued by age and ex-
perience; and D'Artagnan received the penetrating glance like
one who had formerly sustained many a searching look, very dif-
ferent, indeed, from those which were inquiringly directed towards
him at that instant.
"Sir," resumed the Cardinal, "you are to come with me, or
rather I am to go with you."
" I am at your commands, my lord," returned D'Artagnan.
"I wish to visit in person the outposts which surround the
Palais Royal; do you suppose that there is any danger in so
doing ?"-
" Danger, my lord !" exclaimed D'Artagnan, with a look of as-
tonishment; " what danger ?'
"I am told that there is a general insurrection."
" The uniform of the King's Musketeers carries a certain respect
with it; and even if that were not the case, I would engage, with
four of my men, to put to flight an hundred of these clowns."
" Did you witness the injuries sustained by Comminges?"
" Monsieur de Comminges is in the Guards, and not in the
Musketeers "
" Which means, I suppose, that the Musketeers are better sol-
diers than the Guards." The Cardinal smiled as he spoke.
" Every one likes his own uniform best, my lord."
" Myself exceptedand again Mazarin smiled; " for you per-
ceive that I have left off mine, and put on yours."
THE SHADE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 9
" Lord bless us! this is .modesty, indeed," cried D'Artagnan.
" Had I such a uniform as your Eminence possesses, I protest
I should be. mighty content; and I would take an oath never to
wear any other costume
"Yes, but dor to-night's adventure, I don't suppose my dress
would have been a very safe one. Give me my felt hat, Bernouin."
The valet instantly brought to his master a regimental hat with"
a wide brim. The Cardinal put it on in a military style.
" Your horses are already saddled in their stables, are they not?"
he said, turning to D'Artagnan.
" Yes, my lord."
" Well, let us set out."
" How many men does your Eminence wish to escort you ?"
"You say that with four men you will undertake to disperse a
hundred low fellows ; as it may happen that we shall have to en-
counter two hundred, take eight "
" As many as my lord wishes."
" I shall follow you. This way—light us down stairs, Bernouin."
The valet held a wax-light; the Cardinal took a key from his
bureau, and, opening the door of a secret stair, descended into the
court of the Palais RoyaL
CHAPTER II.
a nightly patrol.
In ten minutes Mazarin and his party were traversing the street
" Les Bons Enfans," behind the theatre built by Richelieu expressly
for the play of Mirame, and in which Mazarin, who was an
amateur of music, but not of literature, had introduced into
France the first opera that was ever acted in that country.
The appearance of the town denoted the greatest agitation.
Numberless groups paraded the streets; and, whatever D'Artagnan
might think of it, it was obvious that the citizens had, for the
night, laid aside their usual forbearance, in order to assume a war-
like aspect. From time to time noises came in the direction of
the public markets. The report of fire-arms was heard near the
Rue St. Denis, and occasionally church bells began to ring indis-
criminately, and at the caprice of the populace. D'Artagnan,
meantime, pursued his way with the indifference of a man upon
whom such acts of folly made np impression, The Cardinal em
10
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
vied his composure, which he ascribed to the habit of encountering
danger. On approaching an outpost near the Barriere des Sergens,
the sentinel cried out, " Who's there ?" and D'Artagnan answered
—having first asked the word of the Cardinal—"Louis and
Rocroy." After which he inquired if Lieut. Comminges were not
the commanding officer at the outpost. The soldier replied by
pointing out to him an officer who was conversing, on foot, with
his hand upon the neck of a horse on which the individual to
whom he was talking sat. Here was the officer whom D'Artagnan
was seeking.
" Here is Monsieur Comminges," said D'Artagnan, returning to
the Cardinal. He instantly retired, from a respectful delicacy; it
was, however, evident that the Cardinal was recognised by both
Comminges and the other officer on horseback. >
"Well done, Guitant," cried the Cardinal to the equestrian; "I
see plainly, that notwithstanding the sixty-four years which have
passed over your head, you are still the same man, active and
zealous. What were you saying to this youngster ?"
" My lord," replied Guitant, " I was observing that we live in
strange times, and that to-day's events are very like those in the
days of the Ligue, of which I heard so much in my youth. Are
you aware that the mob have even suggested throwing up barri-
cades in the Rue Saint Denis and the Rue Saint Antoine ?"
" And what was Comminges saying to you in reply, dear
Guitant ?"
, " My lord," said Comminges, " I answered that to compose a
Ligue, only one ingredient was wanting—in my opinion an essen-
tial one—a Due de" Guise—moreover, no one ever does the same
thing twice over."
" No, but they mean to make a Fronde, as they call it," said
Guitant.
" And what is a Fronde ?" inquired Mazarin.
" My lord, a Fronde is the name that the discontented give to
their party."
"And what is the origin of this name?"
." It seems that some days since, Counsellor Backaumont re-
marked at the palace that rebels and agitators reminded him of
schoolboys slinging stones from the moats round Paris—young
urchins who run off the moment the constable appears, only to return
to their diversion the instant that his back is turned. So they have
picked up the word, 'and the insurrectionists are called ' Frondeurs
and yesterday every article sold was ' a la Fronde;' bread ' a la
Fronde,' hats 'h la Fronde,' to say nothing of gloves, pocket-
handkerchiefs, and fans—but listen "
A NIGHTLY PATROL.
Ii
At that moment a window opened, a man began to sing—
"A breeze from the Fronde
Blew to-day:
I think that it blows
Against Mazarin."
" Insolent wretch !" cried Guitant.
"My lord," said Comminges, who, irritated by his wounds,
wished for revenge, and longed to give back blow for blow, " shall
I fire off a ball to punish that jester, and to warn him not to sing
so much out of tune in future ?"
And, as he spoke, he put his hand on the holster of his uncle's
saddle-bow.
" Certainly not—certainly not!" exclaimed Mazarin. " Diavolo !
my dear friend, you are going to spoil everything—everything is
going on famously. I know the French as well as if I had made
them myself from first to last. They sing—let them pay the piper.
During the Ligue, about which Guitant was speaking just now, the
people chaunted nothing except the Mass, so everything went to
destruction. Come, Guitant, come along, and let's see if they
keep watch at the Quinze-Vingts as at the Barriere des Sergens."
And, waving his hand to Comminges, he rejoined D'Artagnan,
who instantly put himself at the head of his troop, followed by the
Cardinal, Guitant, and the rest of the escort.
"Just so," muttered Comminges, looking .after- Mazarin.
"True, I forgot—provided he can get money out of the people,
that is all he wants."
The street of Saint Honore, when the Cardinal and his party
passed through it, was crowded by an assemblage, who, standing
in groups, discussed the edicts of that memorable day—they pitied
the young king, who was unconsciously ruining his country, and
threw all the odium of his proceedings on Mazarin. Addresses to
the Duke of Orleans and to Cond6 were suggested. Blancmesnil
and Broussel seemed in high favour.
D'Artagnan passed through the very midst of this discontented
multitude, just as if his horse and he had been made of iron.
Mazarin and Guitant conversed together in whispers. The mus-
keteers, who had already discovered who Mazarin was, followed
in profound silence. In the street of Saint Thomas-du-Louvre,
they stopped at that barrier which was distinguished by the name
of Quinze-Vingts. Here Guitant spoke to one of the subalterns,
and asked him how matters went on.
" Ah, captain !" said the officer, " everything is quiet hereabouts
—if I did not know that something is going on in yonder house !"
12
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
And he pointed to a magnificent hotel, situated on the very spot
whereon the Vaudeville now stands.
"In that hotel?—it is the Hotel Rambouillet," cried Guitant.
" I really don't know what hotel it is—all I do know is that I
observed some suspicious-looking people go in'there "
" Nonsense!" exclaimed Guitant, with a burst of laughter,
"those men must be poets."
"Come, Guitant, speak, if you please, respectfully of these
gentlemen," said Mazarin; " don't you know that I was in my
youth a poet ? I wrote verses in the style of Beuserade "
"You, my lord?"
"Yes, I—shall I repeat to you some of my verses?"
"Just as you please, my lord. I do not understand Italian."
" Yes, but' you understand Frenchand Mazarin laid his hand
upon Guitant's shoulder. " My good, my brave Guitant, whatso-
ever command I may give you in that language—in French—
whatever I may order you to do, will you not do it ?"
" Certainly. I have already answered that question in the
affirmative; but that command must come from the queen herself."
"Yes! ah, yes!" (Mazarin bit his lips as he spoke.) "I know
your devotion to her majesty."
" I have been a captain in the Queen's Guards for twenty years,"
was the reply.
D'Artagnan, in the meantime, had taken the head of his de-
tachment without a word, and with that ready and profound obedi-
ence which marks the character of an old soldier.
He led the way towards the hut of Saint Roche.. The Rue
Richelieu and the Rue Villedot were then, owing to their vicinity
to the ramparts, less frequented than any others in that direction,
for the town was thinly inhabited thereabouts. He therefore chose
these streets to pass through in preference to those more crowded.
. " Who is in command here ?" asked the Cardinal.
" Villequier," said Guitant.
" Diavolo! Speak to him yourself, for ever since you were
deputed by me to arrest the Due de Beaufort, this officer and I
have been on bad terms. He laid claim to that honour as captain
of the Royal Guards."
Guitant accordingly rode forward, and desired the sentinel to
call Monsieur de Villequier.
" Ah ! so you are here !" cried the officer, in a tone of ill-humour
habitual to him; " what the devil are you doing here ?"
" I wish to know—can you tell me, pray—is there anything
fresh happening in this part of the town ?"
a nightly patrol.
" What do you mean ? People cry out, ' Long live the king i
down with Mazarin'—that's nothing new—no, we've been used tc>
those acclamatiorts for some time."
" And you sing chorus," replied Guitant, laughing.
"Faith, I've half a mind to do it. In my opinion the people
are right: and cheerfully would I give up five years of my pay—
which I am never paid, by the way—to make the king five years
older."
" Really! And pray what is to come to pass supposing the
king were five years older than he is ?"
" As soon as ever the king comes of age, he will issue his com-
mands himself, and 'tis far pleasanter to obey the grandson of
Henry IV. than the grandson of Peter Mazarin. S'death ! I would
die willingly for the king; but supposing I happened to be killed
on account of Mazarin, as your nephew was near being to-day,
there could be nothing in Paradise—so well off as I have been in
this world—that could console me for being a martyr."
"Well, well, Monsieur de Villequier," here Mazarin interposed,
" I shall take care that the king hears of your loyalty. Come,
gentlemen," he addressed the troop, "let us return."
" Stop," exclaimed Villequier ; " so, Mazarin is here ! so much
the better. I have been wanting for a long time to tell him what
I think of him. I'm obliged to you, Guitant, for this opportunity."
He turned away, and went off to his post, whistling a tune, then
popular among the party called the 'Fronde,' whilst Mazarin re-
turned, in a pensive mood, towards the Palais Royal. All that he
had heard from these three different men, Comminges, Guitant,
and Villequier, confirmed him in his conviction that in case of
serious tumults there would be no one on his side except the
queen: and then, Anne of Austria had so often deserted her
friends, that her support seemed very precarious. During the
whole of this nocturnal ride, during the whole time that he was
endeavouring to understand the various characters of Comminges,
Guitant, and Villequier, Mazarin was, in truth, studying more
especially one man. This man — who had remained immovable
when menaced by the mob—not a muscle of whose face was
altered either by Mazarin's witticisms, or by the jests of the
multitude—seemed to the Cardinal a peculiar being, who, having
participated in past events similar to those which were now occur-
ring, was calculated to cope with those which were on the eve of
taking place.
The name of D'Artagnan was not altogether new to Mazarin,
who, although he had not arrived in France before the year 1634,
14
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
or 16353 that is to say, about eight or nine years after the events
'which we have related in a preceding narrative,* fancied that he
had heard it pronounced, in reference to one who was said to be a
model of courage, address, and loyalty.
'Possessed by this idea, the Cardinal resolved to know all about
D'Artagnan immediately; of course he could not inquire from
D'Artagnan himself who he was, and what had been his career;
he remarked, however, in the course of conversation, that the
Lieutenant of Musketeers spoke with a Gascon accent. Now the
Italians and the Gascons are too much alike, and know each other
too well, ever to trust to what any one of them may say of himself;
so, on reaching the walls which surrounded the Palais Royal, the
Cardinal knocked at a little door, and after thanking D'Artagnan,
and requesting him to wait in the court of the Palais Royal, he
made a sign to Guitant to follow him in.
" My dear friend," said the Cardinal, leaning, as they walked
through the gardens, on his friend's arm, "you told me just now
that you had been twenty years'in the queen's service."
"Yes, 'tis true; I have," returned Guitant.
, "Now, my dear Guitant, I have often remarked that in addition
to your courage—which is indisputable, and to your fidelity—
which is invincible, you possess an admirable memory."
" You have found that out, have you, my lord ? Deuce take it—
all the worse for me!"
"How?"
" There's no doubt but that one of the chief qualities in a courtier
is to know when to forget."
" But you, Guitant, are not a courtier. You are a brave soldier,
one of the few remaining veterans of the days of Henry IV.—alas !
how few exist still! "
" Plague on't, my lord—have you brought me here to get my
horoscope out of me ?"
" No—I only brought you here to ask you," returned Mazarin,
smiling, " if you have taken any particular notice of our Lieutenant
of Musketeers ?"
Monsieur D'Artagnan? I do not care to notice him par-
ticularly; he's an old acquaintance. He's a Gascon. De Treville
knows him, and esteems him greatly, and De Treville, as you
know, is one of the queen's greatest friends. As a soldier the man
ranks well: he did his duty, and even more than his duty, at the
siege of Rochelle—as well as at Suze and Perpignan."
* In the "Three Musketeers."
A NiaHTLY PATROL.
15
u But you know, Guitant, we poor ministers often want men with
other qualities besides courage; we want men of talent. Pray was
not Monsieur d'Artagnan, in the time of the Cardinal, mixed up in
some intrigue from which he came out, according to report, rather
cleverly ?"
" My lord, as to the report you allude to"—Guitant perceived
that the Cardinal wished to make him speak out—" I know nothing
but what the public knows. I never meddle in intrigues; and if I
occasionally become a confidant in the intrigues of others, I am
sure your Eminence will approve of my keeping them secret."
Mazarin shook his head.
" Ah !" he said; " some ministers are very fortunate, and find out
all that they wish to know."
" My lord," replied Guitant, " such ministers do not weigh men
in the same balance; they get their information on war from the
warriors; on intrigues, from the politician. Consult some politician
of the period of which you speak,' and if you pay well for it, you will
certainly get to know all you want."
Mazarin, with a grimace which he always made when spoken
to about money—" People must be paid—one can't do otherwise,"
he said.
" Does my lord seriously wish me to name any one who has been
mixed up in the cabals of that day ?"
"By Bacchus!" rejoined Mazarin, impatiently, "it's about an
hour ago since I asked you a question about D'Artagnan, wooden-
headed as you are."
"There is one man for whom I can answer, if he will speak out."
"That's my concern; I must make him speak."
" Ah ! my lord, 'tis not easy to make people say what they don't
wish to let out."
" Pooh ! patience (we're coming to it at last). Well, this man.
Who is he ?"
."The Comte de Rochefort."
" The Comte de Rochefort!"
"Unfortunately he has disappeared these four or five years, and
I don't know where he is."
"/know, Guitant," said Mazarin.
" Well, then, how is it that your Eminence complained just now
of want of information on some points ?"
"You think," resumed Mazarin, "that RochefOrb "
" He was Cardinal Richelieu's creature* my lord. I warn you,
however, his services will be expensive. The Cardinal was lavish
to his underlings."
16
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Yes, yes, Guitant," said Mazarin; Richelieu was a great man,
a very great man, but he had that defect Thanks, Guitant; I
shall benefit by your advice this very evening."
Here they separated, and bidding adieu to Guitant in the court
of the Palais Royal, Mazarin approached an officer who was walking
up and down within that enclosure.
It was D'Artagnan, who was waiting for him.
" Come hither," said Mazarin, in his softest voice, " I have an
order to give you."
D'Artagnan bent low, and following the Cardinal up the secret
staircase, soon found himself in the study whence he had first set
out.
The Cardinal seated himself before his bureau, and taking a sheet
of paper, wrote some lines upon it, whilst D'Artagnan remained
standing, imperturbable, and without showing either impatience or
curiosity. He was like a military automaton acting (or, rather,
obeying the will of others) upon springs.
The Cardinal folded and sealed his letter.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, "you are to take this despatch
to the Bastille, and to bring back here the person whom it con-
cerns. You must take a carriage and an escort, and guard the
prisoner carefully."
D'Artagnan took the letter, touched his hat with his hand,
turned round, upon his heel, like a drill-serjeant, and, a moment
afterwards, was heard in his dry and monotonous tone, command-
ing, "Four men and an escort, a carriage and a horse." Five
minutes afterwards the wheels of the carriage and the horses' shoes
were heard resounding on the pavement of the court-yard.
CHAPTER III.
old animosities.
D'Artagnan arrived at the Bastille just as it was striking half-past
eight. His visit was announced to the governor, who, on hearing
that he came from the Cardinal, went to meet him, and received
him at the top of the great flight of steps outside the door. The
governor of the Bastille was Monsieur du Tremblay, the brother of
the famous Capuchin, Joseph, that fearful favourite of Richelieu's,
who went by the name of the Gray Cardinal.
During the period that the Due de Bassompierre passed in the
OLD ANIMOSITIES.
17
Bastille—where he remained for twelve whole years—when his
companions, in their dreams of liberty, said to each other, " As for
me, I shall go out of prison at such a time," and another, at such
and such a time, the duke used to answer, " As for me, gentlemen,
I shall leave only when Monsieur du Tremblay leavesmeaning
that at the death of the Cardinal, Du Tremblay would certainly
lose his place at the Bastille, and then De Bassompierre would
regain his at court.
His prediction was nearly being fulfilled, but in a very different
way to that which De Bassompierre supposed; for, after the death
of Richelieu, everything went on, contrary to expectation, in the
same way as before; and Bassompierre had little chance of
leaving his prison.
■Monsieur du Tremblay received D'Artagnan with extreme
politeness, and invited him to sit down with him to supper, of
which he was himself about to partake.
" I should be delighted to do so," was the reply; " but if I am
not much mistaken, the words, 'In haste,' are written on the
envelope of the letter which I brought."
"You are right," said Du Tremblay. "Holloa, major, tell them
to order number 256 to come down stairs."
The unhappy wretch who entered into the Bastille ceased, as he
crossed the threshold, to^be a man, and became a number.
D'Artagnan shuddered at the noise of the keys; he therefore
remained on horseback, having no inclination to dismount, and
sat looking at the bars, at the thick strong windows, and the
immense walls which he had hitherto only seen from the other
side of the moat, and by which he had, for twenty years, been
awe-struck.
A bell sounded.
"I must leave you," said Du Tremblay; "I am sent for to sign
the release of the prisoner, I shall be happy to meet you again,
sir."
" May the devil annihilate me if I return thy wish!" murmured
D'Artagnan, smiling as he pronounced the imprecation; " I declare
I feel quite ill, after only being five minutes in the court-yard.
Go to—go to ! I should rather die upon straw, than hoard up five
hundred a-year by being governor of the Bastille."
He had scarcely finished this soliloquy before the prisoner
arrived. On seeing him D'Artagnan could hardly suppress an
exclamation of surprise. The prisoner did not seem, however, to
recognise the Musketeer.
" Gentlemen," thus D'Artagnan addressed the four Musketeers,
is
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"l am ordered to exercise the greatest possible care in guarding
the prisoner; and, since there are no locks to the carriage, I shall
sit beside him. Monsieur de Lillebonne, lead my horse by the
bridle, if you please." As he spoke, he dismounted, gave the
bridle of his horse to the Musketeer, and placing himself by the
side of the prisoner, said, in a voice perfectly composed, 1 To the
Palais Royal, at a full trot.'"
The carriage drove on, and D'Artagnan, availing himself of the
darkness in the archway under which they were passing, Cftrew
himself into the arms of the prisoner.
" Rochefort!" he exclaimed; " you—is it you; you, indeed ? I
am not mistaken ?"
" D'Artagnan !" cried Rochefort.
" Ah! my poor friend!" resumed D'Artagnan, " not having seen
you for four or five years, I concluded that you were dead."
" I'faith," said Rochefort, " there's no great difference, I think,
between a dead man and one who has been buried alive; now I
have been buried alive, or very nearly so."
" And for what crime are you imprisoned in the Bastille ?"
" Do you wish me to speak the truth to you ?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I don't know."
" Have you any suspicion of me, Rochefort ?"
"No! on the honour of a gentleman; but I cannot be im-
prisoned for the reason alleged—it is impossible."
" What reason ?" asked D'Artagnan.
"For stealing."
"For stealing ! you—Rochefort—you are laughing at me. It is
impossible that it could have been that, my dear Rochefort, which
was alleged against you; it is a mere pretext; but you will, per-
haps, soon know on what account you. have been in prison."
" Ah, indeed ! I forgot to ask you—where are you taking me ?"
"To the Cardinal."
"What does he want with me?"
" I do not know. I did not even know that you were the person
whom I was sent tp fetch."
" Impossible ! You—a favourite of the minister !"
"A favourite! no, indeed !" cried D'Artagnan. "Ah, my poor
friend! I am just as poor a Gascon as when I saw you at Meung,
twenty-two years ago, you know; alas!" and he concluded his
speech with a deep sigh.
"Nevertheless, you come as one in authority."*
" Because I happened to be in the antechamber when the Car-
OLD ANIMOSITIES.
19
dinal called me, just by chance. I am still a lieutenant in the
Musketeers, and have been so these twenty years." ,
" Then no misfortune has happened to you ?"
"And what misfortune could happen to me? To quote some
Latin verses which I have forgotten, or rather, never known well,
f the thunderbolt never falls on the valleys;' and I am a valley,
dear Rochefort, and one of the lowest that can be."
" Then Mazarin is still Mazarin ?"
" The same as ever, my friend; it is said that he is married to
the queen."
" Married ?"
" If not her husband, he is unquestionably her lover."
"You surprise me; to resist Buckingham, and yield to Mazarin."
"Just like the women," replied D'Artagnan, coolly.
"Like women—but not like queens."
" Egad ! queens are the weakest of their sex, when we come to
such matters as these."
The count then made several minute inquiries after his friends.
The Due de Beaufort, was he still in prison? To this D'Artagnan
answered in the affirmative.
"And," said the prisoner, "what talk is there of war with
Spain ?"
"With Spain—no," answered D'Artagnan; "but with Paris."
" What do you mean ?" cried Rochefort.
" Do you hear the guns, pray ? The citizens are amusing them-
selves in the meantime."
" And you—do you really think that anything could be done
with these bourgeois ?"
" Yes, they might do well, if they had any leader to unite them
in one body."
" How miserable not to be free !"
"Don't be downcast. Since Mazarin has sent for you, it is
because he wants you. I congratulate you ! Many a long year
has passed since any one has wanted to employ me; so you see in
what a situation I am."
"Make your complaints known; that's my advice."
" Listen, Rochefort; let's make a compact. We are friends, are
we not ?"
" Egad ! I bear the traces of our friendship—three cuts from
your sword."
"Well, if you should be restored to favour, don't forget me."
" On the honour of a Rochefort; but you must do the like for
me."
2—2
20
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
"There's my hand—I promise."
" Therefore, whenever you find any opportunity of saying some-
thing in my behalf "
" I shall say it; and you ?"
"I shall do the same."
"Apropos, are we to speak about your friends as well—Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis ? or have you forgotten them ?"
" Almost!"
" What's become of them ?"
" I don't know; we separated, as you know. They are alive,
and that's all I can say about them. From time to time I hear of
them indirectly, but in what part of the world they are, devil take
me if I know. No, on my honour, I have not a friend in the
world but you. Rochefort."
" And the illustrious—what's the name of the lad whom I made
a sergeant in Piedmont's regiment ?"
" Planchet ?"
" The illustrious Planchet. What's become of him ?"
" I shouldn't wonder if he is not at the head of the mob at this
very moment. He married a woman who keeps a confectioner's
shop in the Rue des Lombards; for he's a lad that was always
fond of sweetmeats; he's now a citizen of Paris. You'll see that
that queer fellow will be a sheriff before I shall be a captain."
" Come, dear D'Artagnan, look up a little—courage. It is when
one is lowest on the wheel of fortune, that the wheel turns round
and raises us. This evening your destiny begins to change."
"Amen!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, stopping the carriage.
He got out, and remounted his steed, not wishing to arrive at
the gate of the Palais Royal in the same carriage with the
prisoner.
' In a few minutes the party entered the court-yard, and D'Ar-
tagnan led the prisoner up the great staircase, and across the
corridor and ante-chamber.
As they stopped at the door of the Cardinal's study, D'Artagnan
was about to be announced, when Rochefort slapped him on his
shoulder.
" D'Artagnan, let me confess to you what I've been thinking
about during the whole of my drive, as I looked out upon the
parties of citizens who perpetually crossed our path, and looked at
you and your four men, with their flambeaux."
" Speak out," answered D'Artagnan.
" I had only to cry out ' Help !' for you and your companions
to be cut to pieces, and then I should have been free."
OLD ANIMOSITIES.
21
" Why didn't you do it ?" asked the lieutenant.
" Come, then !" cried Rochefort. " We swore friendship ! Ah !
Had any one but you been there—I don't say
D'Artagnan bowed.
But the impatient voice of Mazarin summoned Rochefort to the
Boom where the minister awaited him. "Tell Monsieur D'Ar-
tagnan to wait outside—I don't require him yet," said the Cardinal.
Rochefort, rendered suspicious and cautious by these words,
entered the apartment, where he found Mazarin sitting at the table,
dressed in his ordinary garb, and as one of the prelates of the
Church, his costume being similar to that of the abbes in that day,
excepting that his scarf and stockings were violet.
As the door was closed, Rochefort cast a glance towards
Mazarin, which was answered by one, equally furtive, from the
minister.
There was little change in the Cardinal; «till dressed with
sedulous care, his hair well arranged and well curled, his person
perfumed—he looked, owing to his extreme taste in dress, only
half his age. But Rochefort, who had passed five years in prison,
had become old in the lapse of years; the dark locks of this es-
timable friend of the defunct Cardinal de Richelieu were now white;
the deep bronze of his complexion had been succeeded by a mortal
paleness, which betokened debility. As he gazed at him, Mazarin
shook his head slightly, as much as to say, " This is a man who
does not appear to me fit for much."
After a pause, which appeared an age to Rochefort, Mazarin,
however, took from a bundle of papers a letter, and showing it to
the count, he said :
" I find here a letter in which you sue for liberty, Monsieur de
Rochefort. You are in prison, then?"
Rochefort trembled in. every limb at this question. " But I
thought," he said, " that your Eminence knew that circumstance
better than any one "
" I ? Oh no ! There's a mass of prisoners in the Bastille who
were sent there in the time of Monsieur de Richelieu—I don't
even know their names."
"Yes, but in regard to myself, my lord, it cannot be so, for I
was removed from the Chatelet to the Bastille owing to an order
from your Eminence."
"You think you were."
" I am certain of it."
" Ah, yes! I think I remember it. Did you not once refuse
to undertake a journey to Brussels for the queen ?"
22
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Ah ! ah !" exclaimed Rochefort. " There is the true reason !
Idiot as I am, though I have been trying to find it out for five
years, I never found it out."
" But I do not say that it was the cause of your imprisonment. I
merely ask you, did you not refuse to go to Brussels for the queen,
whilst you had consented to go there to do some service for the
late Cardinal ?"
" That is the very reason that I refused to go back again to
Brussels. I was there at a fearful moment. I was sent there to
intercept a correspondence between Chalais and the archduke, and
even then, when I was discovered, I was nearly torn to pieces.
How could I then return to Brussels ?"
" Well, then, since the best motives are liable to misconstrue-
tion, the queen saw in your refusal nothing but a refusal—a dis-
tinct refusal; she had also much to complain of you during the
lifetime of the Cardinal—yes,—her majesty the queen "
Rochefort smiled contemptuously.
" Since I was a faithful servant, my lord, to Cardinal Richelieu
during his life, it stands to reason that now, after his death, I
should serve you well, in defiance of the whole world."
" With regard to myself, Monsieur de Rochefort," replied Mazarin,
" I am not like Monsieur de Richelieu, all-powerful. I am but a
minister, who wants no servants, being myself nothing but a ser-
vant of the queen's. Now, the queen is of a sensitive nature;
hearing of your refusal to obey her, she looked upon it as a de-
claration of war; and as she considers you as a man of superior
talent, and therefore dangerous, she desired me to make sure of
you—that is the reason of your being shut up in the Bastille—but
your release can be managed. You are one of those men who
can comprehend certain ma-tters : and have understood them, and
can act with energy "
"Such was Cardinal Richelieu's opinion, my lord."
" The Cardinal," interrupted Mazarin, "was a great politician,
and there was his vast superiority over me. I am a straightfor-
ward, simple man; that's my great disadvantage. I am of a
frankness of character quite French."
Rochefort bit his lips in order not to smile.
" Now to the point. I want friends. I want faithful servants.
When I say I want, I mean the queen wants them. I do nothing
without her commands; pray, understand that—not like Monsieur
de Richelieu, who went on just as he pleased—so I shall never be
a great man, as he was; but, to compensate for that, I shall be a
good man, Monsieur de Rochefort, and I hope to prove it to you."
OLD ANIMOSITIES.
23
Rochefort knew well the tones of that soft voice, in which there
was sometimes a sort of gentle lisp, like the hissing of a viper.
" I am disposed to believe your Erpinence," he replied; " but
have the kindness not to forget that I have been five years in the
Bastille, and that no way of viewing things is so false as through
the grating of a prison." ,
" Ah, Monsieur de Rochefort! have I not told you already that
I had nothing to do with that. The queen—cannot you make ah
lowances for the pettishness of a queen and a princess ? But that
has passed away as suddenly as it came, and is forgotten."
" I can easily suppose, sir, that her majesty has forgotten it
amid the fetes and the courtiers of the Palais Royal, but I, who
have passed those years in the Bastille "
" Ah ! mon Dieu ! my dear Monsieur de Rochefort! do you
absolutely think that the Palais Royal is the abode of gaiety?
No. We have had great annoyances there. As for me, I play my
game fair and above board, as I always do. Let us come to some
conclusion. Are you one of us, Monsieur de Rochefort ?"
" I am very desirous of being so, my lord; but I am totally in
the dark about everything. In the Bastille one talks politics only
with soldiers and gaolers, and you have not an idea, my lord, how
little those sort of people really know of the state of affairs; I am
of Monsieur de Bassompierre's party. Is he still one of the
seventeen peers of France ?"
"He is dead, sir;—'tis a great loss. His devotion to the queen
was great; and men of loyalty are scarce."
" I think so, forsooth," said Rochefort; " and when you find
any of them you send them off to the Bastille. However, there
are plenty of them in the world, but you don t look in the right
direction for them, my lord."
" Indeed ! explain to me. Ah! my dear Monsieur de Roche-
fort, how much you must have learned during your intimacy with
the late Cardinal! Ah ! he was a great man !"
" Will your Eminence be angry if I read you a lesson ?"
" I ! never ! you know you may say anything to me. I try to
be beloved, and not to be feared."
" Well, I myself, on the wall of my cell, scratched with a nail, a
proverb, which says, 'Like master, like servant.'"
" Pray, what does that mean ?"
" It means that Monsieur de Richelieu was able to find trusty
servants—dozens and dozens of them."
" He! the point aimed at by every poignard! Richelieu, who
passed his life in warding off blows which were for ever aimed at
him!"
7WEMTY YEARS AFTER.
" But he did ward them off," said De Rochefort, " and the
reason was, that though he had bitter enemies he possessed also
true friends. I have known persons," he continued,—for he
thought he might avail himself of the opportunity of speaking of
D'Artagnan—" who, by their sagacity and address, have deceived
the penetration of Cardinal Richelieu ; who, by their valour, have
got the better of his guards and his spies; persons without money,
without support, without credit, yet who have preserved to the
crowned head its crown, and made the Cardinal ask for pardon."
"Ah," cried Mazarin, with his wonted grace, "could I but find
such men!" '
" My lord, there has stood for six years at your very door a man
such as I describe, and during those six years he has been unap-
preciated and unemployed by you."
"Who is it?"
" It is Monsieur d'Artagnan, a Gascon, who has done all this,
saved his queen, and made Monsieur de Richelieu confess, that
in point of talent, address, and political skill, he was to him only
a tyro."
"Tell me how it all happened."
" No, my lord, the secret is not mine; it is a secret which con-
cerns the queen. In what he did, this man had three colleagues,
three brave men, such men as you were wishing for just now."
" And were these four men attached to each other, true in heart,
really united ?"
" As if they had been one man, as if their four hearts had pul-
sated in one breast."
" You pique my curiosity, dear Rochefort; pray tell me the
whole story."
"That is impossible; but I will tell you a true story, my lord."
" Pray do so—I delight in stories," cried the Cardinal.
" Listen then," returned Rochefort, as he spoke endeavouring to
read, in that subtle countenance, the Cardinal's motive. " Once
upon a time there lived a queen—a powerful monarch—who
reigned over one of the greatest kingdoms of the universe; and a
minister; and this minister wished much to injure the queen, whom
once he had loved too well. (Do not try, my lord, you cannot
guess who it is; all this happened long before you came into the
country where this queen reigned.) There came to the court an
ambassador so brave, so magnificent, so elegant, that every woman
lost her heart to him; and the queen had even the indiscretion to
give him certain ornaments so rare, that they could never be re-
placed by any like them.
OLD ANIMOSITIES.
25
" As these ornaments belonged to the king, the minister pen
stiaded his majesty to insist upon the queen's appearing in them as
part of her jewels, at a ball which was soon to take place. There
is no occasion to tell you, my lord, that the minister knew for a
fact that these ornaments had been sent after the ambassador, who
was far away, beyond seas. This illustrious queen had fallen low
as the least of her subjects—fallen from her high estate."
" Indeed!"
" Well, my lord, four men resolved to save her. These four men
were not princes, neither were they dukes, neither were they men
in power, they were not even rich men. They were four honest
soldiers, each with a good heart, a good arm, and a sword at the
service of those who wanted it. They set out. The minister
knew of their departure, and had planted people on the road to
prevent them ever reaching their destination. Three of them were
overwhelmed and disabled by numerous assailants, one of them
alone arrived at the port, having either killed or wounded those
who wished to stop him. He crossed the sea, and brought back
the set of ornaments to the great queen, who was able to wear them
on her shoulder on the appointed day, and this very nearly ruined
the minister. What think you of that trait, my lord ?"
" It is splendid," said Mazarin.
"Well, I know ten such men."
" And was Monsieur d'Artagnan one of these four men ?" in-
quired the Cardinal.
"It was he who conducted the enterprise."
" And who were the others ?"
"I leave it to Monsieur d'Artagnan to name them, my lord."
"You suspect me, Monsieur de Rochefort; I want him, and
you, and all to aid me."
" Begin by telling me why, my lord; for after five or six years of
imprisonment, it is natural to feel some curiosity as to one's desti-
nation."
"You, my dear Monsieur de Rochefort, shall have the post of
confidence; you shall go to Vincennes, where Monsieur de
Beaufort is confined; you will guard him well for me."
" My lord," replied Rochefort, " to go out of the Bastille in order
to go into Vincennes is only to change one's prison."
" Say at once that you are on the side of Monsieur de Beaufort
—that will be the most sincere line of conduct," said Mazarin.
" My lord, I have been so long shut up, that I am only of one
party—I am for fresh air. Employ me in any other way; employ
me even actively—but let it be on the high roads."
26
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" My dear Monsieur de Rochefort," Mazarin replied in a tone of
raillery, " you think yourself still a young man—your spirit is still
juvenile, but your strength fails you. Believe me, you ought now to
take rest. Here!"
"You decide, then, nothing about me, my lord?"
" On the contrary, I have come to a decision about you."
Bernouin came into the room.
"Call an officer of justice," he said; "and stay close to me," he
added in a low tone.
The officer entered—Mazarin wrote a few words, which he gave
to this man—then he bowed.
"Adieu, Monsieur de Rochefort," he said.
Rochefort bent low.
" I see, my lord, that I am to be taken back to the Bastille."
"You are sagacious."
"I shall return thither, my lord, but you are wrong not to
employ me."
" You ? the friend of my greatest foes ? don't suppose that you
are the only person who can serve me, Monsieur de Rochefort.
I shall find many as able men as you are."
" I wish you may, my lord," replied De Rochefort.
He was then reconducted by the little staircase, instead of
passing through the antechamber where D'Artagnan was waiting.
In the court-yard the carriage and the four Musketeers were ready,
but he looked around in vain for his friend.
" Ah!" he muttered to himself, " things are changed indeed;"
yet he jumped into the carriage with the alacrity of a man of five-
and-twenty.
CHAPTER IV.
anne of austria at the age of forty-six.
When left alone with Bernouin, Mazarin was, for some minutes,
lost in thought. He had gained much information, but not enough.
" My lord, have you any commands ?" asked Bernouin.
"Yes, yes," replied Mazarin. "Light me; I am going to the
queen."
Bernouin took up a candlestick, and led the way.
There was a secret communication between the Cardinal's
apartments and those of the queen; and through this corridor*
Mazarin passed whenever he wished to visit Anne of Austria.
* This secret passage is still to be seen in the Palais Royal.
ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIN.
27
In the bedroom in which this passage ended Bernouin encoun-
tered Madame de Beauvais, like himself entrusted with the secret
of these subterranean love affairs; and Madame de Beauvais
undertook to prepare Anne of Austria, who was in her oratory with
the young king, Louis XIV., to receive the Cardinal.
Anne, reclining in a large easy chair, her head supported by her
hand, her elbow resting on a table near her, was looking at her
son, who was turning over the leaves of a book filled with pictures
of battles. This celebrated woman fully understood the art of
being dull with dignity. It was her practice to pass hours either
in her oratory, or in her room, without either reading or praying.
When Madame de Beauvais appeared at the door, and an-
nounced the Cardinal, the child, who had been engrossed in the
pages of Quintus Curtius, enlivened as they were by engravings of
Alexander's feats of arms, frowned, and looked at his mother,—
"Why," he said, "does he enter without asking first for an
audience ?"
Anne coloured slightly.
" The prime minister," she said, " is obliged, in these unsettled
times, to inform the queen of all that is happening from time to
time, without exciting the curiosity or remarks of the court."
" But Richelieu never came in, in this manner," said the per-
tinacious boy.
" How can you remember what Monsieur de Richelieu did ?
You were too young to know that."
" I do not remember what he did; but I have inquired, and I
have been told all about it."
At this very moment Mazarin entered. The king rose imme-
diately, took his book, closed it, and went to lay it down on the
table, near which he continued standing, in order that Mazarin
might be obliged to stand also.
Mazarin contemplated these proceedings with a thoughtful
glance. They explained what had occurred that evening.
He bowed respectfully to the king, who gave him a somewhat
cavalier reception, but a look from his mother reproved him for
the hatred which, from his infancy, Louis XIV. had entertained
towards Mazarin, and he endeavoured to receive with a smile the
minister's homage.
"It is time that the king should retire to rest," said the queen,
speaking to Madame de Beauvais—for Anne was surprised at this
early visit from Mazarin, who scarcely ever came into her apart-
ments until every one had withdrawn for the night.
The queen had several times already told her son that he ought
28
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
to go to bed; and, several times, Louis had coaxingly insisted on
staying where he was; but now he made no reply, but turned pale,
and bit his lips with anger.
In a few minutes Laporte came into the room. The child went
directly to him without kissing his mother.
"Well, Louis," said Anne, "why do you not kiss me?"
" I thought you were angry with me, madam; you sent me
away."
"I do not send you away; but you have had the small-pox, and
I am afraid that sitting up late may tire you."
"You had no fears of my being tired when you ordered me to
go to the palace to-day to pass the odious decrees, which have
raised up murmurs among the people."
" Sire !" interposed Laporte, in order to turn the subject—" to
whom does your majesty wish me to give the candle ?"
"To any one, Laporte," the child said; and then added, in a
loud voice, "to any one but Mancini."
Now Mancini was a nephew of Mazarin's, and was as much
hated by Louis as the Cardinal himself, although placed near his
person by the minister.
And the king went out of the room, without either 'embracing
his mother, or even bowing to the Cardinal.
" Good," said Mazarin. " I am glad to see that his majesty is
brought up with a hatred of dissimulation."
The queen, however, asked, with some impatience, what im-
portant business had brought the Cardinal there that evening.
Mazarin sank into a chair, with the deepest melancholy painted
on his countenance.
" It is likely," he replied, " that we shall soon be obliged to
separate, unless you love me well enough to follow me into
Italy."
" Why," cried the queen ; " how is that ?"
"Because, as they say in the opera of Thisbe—'The whole
world conspires to break our bonds.'"
"You jest, sir!" answered the queen, endeavouring to assume
something of her former dignity.
"Alas! I do not, madam," rejoined Mazarin. "Mark well
what I say. The whole world conspires to break our bonds.
Now as you are one of the whole world, I mean to say that you
also desert me."
" Cardinal!"
" Heavens! did I not see you the other day smile on the Duke
of Orleans ? or rather at what he said ?"
ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FOR TV-SIX.
29
" And what was he saying ?"
" He said this, madam. ' Mazarin is a stumbling-block. Send
him away, and all will be well.'"
" What do you wish me to do ?"
" Oh, madam—you are the queen !"
" Queen, forsooth ! when I am at the mercy of every scribbler
in the Palais Royal, who covers waste paper with honsense, or of
every country squire in the kingdom."
" Nevertheless, you have still the power of banishing from your
presence those whom you do not like !"
" That is to say, whom you do not like," returned the queen.
" I!—persons whom I do not like !"
"Yes, indeed. Who sent away Madame de Chevreuse?"
" A woman of intrigue; who wanted to keep up against me the
spirit of cabal which she had raised against M. de Richelieu."
" Then who dismissed Madame de Hautefort ?"
" A prude, who told you every night as she undressed you, that
it was a sin to love a priest; just as if one were a priest, because
one happens to be a cardinal."
"Who ordered Monsieur de Beaufort to be arrested?"
" An incendiary; the burderl of whose song was his intention to
assassinate me. My enemies, madam, ought to' be yours, and
your friends my friends."
" My friends, sir !" The queen shook her head. " Alas ! I have
none. In vain do I look about me for friends. I have no influ-
ence over any one. Monsieur* is led by his favourite to-day,
Choisy; to-morrow it will be La Riviere, or some one else. The
prince is led by Madame de Longueville, who is, in her turn, led
by the Prince de Marsillac, her lover. Monsieur de Conti is
under the influence of the deputy, who is the slave of Madame de
Guemenee."
" Do you know Monsieur de Rochefort ?" said Mazarin.
" One of my bitterest enemies—the faithful friend of Cardinal
Richelieu."
" I know that, and we sent him to the Bastille," said Mazarin.
" Is he at liberty ?" asked the queen.
"No; still there—but I only speak of him in order that I may
introduce the name of another man. Do you know Monsieur
d'Artagnan ?" he added, looking steadfastly at the queen.
Anne of Austria received the blow with a beating heart.
" Has the Gascon been indiscreet ?" she murmured; then said
aloud: -
* The Duke of Orleans.
30
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" D'Artagnan ! stop an instant; that name is certainly familiar
to me. D'Artagnan! there was a Musketeer who was in love with
one of my women, poor young creature ! she was poisoned on my
account."
" That's all you know of him ?" asked Mazarin,
The queen looked at him, surprised.
"You seem, sir," she remarked, "to.be making me undergo a
course of interrogations."
"Which you answer according to your own fancy," replied
Mazarin.
"Tell me your wishes, and I will comply with them."
The queen spoke with some impatience.
"Well then, madam, not a day passes in which I do not suffer
affronts from your princes and your lordly servants; every one of
them automata who do not perceive that I hold the spring which
makes them move, nor do they see that beneath my quiet de-
meanour there is the scoff of an injured and irritated man, who
has sworn to himself to master them one of these days. We have
arrested Monsieur de Beaufort, but he is the least dangerous
among them. There is the Prince de Conde "
" The hero of Rocroy ! do you think of him V
"Yes, madam, often and often; but pazienza, as we say in Italy.
Next, after Monsieur de Conde, comes the Duke of Orleans."
"What are you saying? The first prince of the blood—the
king's uncle!"
"No! not the first prince of the blood, not the king's uncle, but
the base conspirator, the soul of every cabal, who pretends to lead
the brave people who are weak enough to believe in the honour of
a prince of the blood—not the prince nearest to the throne, not the
king's uncle, I repeat, but the murderer of Chalais, of Mont-
morency, and of Cinq-Mars, who is playing now the same game
that he played long ago, and who fancies he shall gain an advam
tage, instead of having an opponent who frowns, he has one
before him, face to face, who smiles. But he is mistaken. I
shall not leave so near the queen that source of discord with
which the deceased cardinal so often caused the anger of the king
to boil over."
Anne blushed, and buried her head in her hands.
" What am I to do ?" she said, bowed down beneath the voice
of her tyrant.
" Endeavour to remember the names of those faithful servants
who crossed the Channel, in spite of Monsieur de Richelieu—
tracking the roads along which they passed by their blood—to
ANNE OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIX.
31
bring back to your majesty certain jewels given by her to Bucking-
ham."
Anne arose, full of majesty, and, as if touched by a spring,
started up, and looking at the Cardinal with the haughty dignity
which, in the days of her youth, had made her so powerful, " You
insult me, sir," she said.
" I wish " continued Mazarin, finishing, as it were, the speech
which this sudden movement of the queen had cut short; " I wish,
in fact, that you should now do for your husband what you for-
merly did for your lover."
"Again, that accusation?" cried the queen; "I thought that
calumny was stifled or extinct. You have spared me till now;
but since you speak of it, once for all I tell you "
" Madam, what I wish is, to know all," said Mazarin, astounded
by this returning courage.
" I will tell you all," replied Anne. " Listen: there were, in
truth, at that epoch, four devoted hearts, four loyal spirits, four
faithful swords who saved more than my life—my honour "
" Ah! you confess it," exclaimed Mazarin.
" Is it only the guilty whose honour is at the sport of others, sir;
and cannot women be dishonoured by appearances ? However, I
swear I was not guilty; I swear it by "
The queen looked around her for some sacred object by which
she could swear; and taking out of a cupboard, hidden in the
tapestry, a small coffer of rosewood, set in silver, and laying it on
the altar—
" I swear," she said, " by these sacred relics that Buckingham
was not my lover."
"What relics are those by which you swear?" asked Mazarin,
smiling. " I am incredulous."
The queen untied from around her throat a small golden key
which hung there, and presented it to the Cardinal.
"Open," she said, "sir, and look for yourself."
Mazarin opened the coffer; a knife, covered with rust, and two
letters, one of which was stained with blood, alone met his gaze.
" What are these things ?" he asked.
" What are these things ?" replied Anne, with queen-like dignity,
and extending towards the open coffer an arm, despite the lapse
of years, still beautiful. " These two letters are the only letters
that I ever wrote to him. That knife is the knife with which
Felton stabbed him. Read the letters, and see if I have lied, or
spoken the truth."
But Mazarin, notwithstanding this permission, instead of reading
32
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
the letters, took the knife which the dying Buckingham had
snatched out of the wound, and sent by Laporte to the queen.
The blade was red, for the blood had become rust; after a
momentary examination, during which the queen became as white
as the cloth which covered the altar on which she was leaning, he
put it back into the coffer with an involuntary shudder.
"It is well, madam; I believe your oath."
"No, no, read," exclaimed the queen indignantly; "read, I
command you, for I am resolved that everything shall be finished
to-night, and never will I recur to this subject again. Do you
think," she said, with a ghastly smile, "that I shall be inclined to
re-open this coffer to answer any future accusations ?"
Mazarin, overcome by this determination, read the two letters.
In one the queen asked for the ornaments back again. This letter
had been conveyed by D'Artagnan, and had arrived in time. The
other was that which Laporte had placed in the hands of the Duke
of Buckingham, warning him thgt he was about to be assassinated;
this had arrived too late.
"It is well, madam," said Mazarin; "nothing can be said to
this testimony."
"Sir," replied the queen, closing the coffer, and leaning her
hand upon it, " if there is anything to be said, it is that I have
always been ungrateful to the brave men who saved me—that I
have given nothing to that gallant officer, D'Artagnan, you were
speaking of just now, but my hand to kiss, and this diamond."
As she spoke she extended her beautiful hand to the Cardinal,
and showed him a superb diamond which sparkled on her finger.
" It appears," she resumed, " that he sold it—he sold it in order
to save me another time—to be abla»to send a messenger to the
duke to warn him of his danger He sold it to Monsieur des
Essarts, on whose finger I remarked it. I bought it from him, but
it belongs to D'Artagnan. Give it back to him, sir; and since you
have such a man in your service, make him useful.
" And now," added the queen, her voice broken by her emotion,
" have you any other question to ask me ?"
"Nothing"—the Cardinal spoke in the most conciliatory manner
—"except to beg of you to forgive my unworthy suspicions. I
love you so tenderly that I cannot help being jealous—even of the
past."
A smile, which was indefinable, passed over the lips of the
queen.
" Since you have no further interrogations to make, leave me,
I beseech you," she said. " I wish, after such a scene, to be alone."
AlYNB OF AUSTRIA AT FORTY-SIX.
33
Mazarin bent low before her.
" I shall retire, madam; do you permit me to return ?"
"Yes, to-morrow."
The Cardinal took thq queen's hand, and pressed it, with an ait
of gallantry, to his lips.
Scarcely had he left her than tbe queen went into her son's room,
and inquired from Laporte if the king was in bed. Laporte pointed
to the child, who was asleep.
Anne ascended the steps aside of the bed, and kissed softly the
placid forehead of her son; then she retired as silently as she
came, merely saying to Laporte :
"Try, my dear Laporte, to make the king more courteous to
Monsieur le Cardinal, to whom both he and I are under such
great obligations."
CHAPTER Y.
the gascon and the italian.'
Meanwhile the Cardinal returned to his own room; and after
asking Bernouin, who stood at the door, whether anything had
occurred during his absence, and being answered in the negative,
he desired that he might be left alone.
When he was alone, he opened the door of the corridor, and
then that of the ante-chamber. There D'Artagnan was asleep
upon a bench.
The Cardinal went up to him, and touched his shoulder. D'Ar-
tagnan started, awakened himself, and, as he awoke, stood up
exactly like a soldier under arms.
" Monsieur D'Artagnan," said the Cardinal, sitting down on a
fauteuil,\ " you have always seemed to me to be a brave and an
honourable man."
"Possibly," thought D'Artagnan; "but he has taken a long
time to let me know his thoughts;" nevertheless he bent down to
the very ground in gratitude for Mazarin's compliment.
• "Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued Mazarin, "you have per-
formed sundry exploits in the last reign."
"Your Eminence is too good to remember that. It is true I
fought with tolerable success."
" I don't speak of your warlike exploits, Monsieur," said Mazarin ;
" although they gained you much reputation, they were surpassed
by others."
D'Artagnan pretended astonishment.
3
34
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Well, you do not reply ?" resumed Mazarin.
" I am waiting, my lord, till you tell me of what exploits yotl
speak."
"I speak of-certain adventures. I speak of the adventure re-
ferring to the queen—of the ornaments, of the journey you made
with three of your friends."
" Ha, ho-o !" thought the Gascon; " is this a snare, or not ? Let
me be on my guard."
And he assumed a look of stupidity which Mendori or Bellerose,
two of the first actors of the day, might have envied him.
" Bravo," cried Mazarin; " they told me that you were the man 1
wanted. Come, let us see what you will do for me !"
" Everything that your Eminence may please to command me,"
was the reply.
"You will do for me what you have done for the queen?"
" Certainly," D'Artagnan said to himself, " he wishes to make me
speak out. He's not more cunning than De Richelieu was ! Devil
take him !" Then he said aloud :
"The queen, my lord ! I don't comprehend."
"You don't comprehend that I want you and your three friends
to be of use to me ?"
" What friends, my lord ?"
"Your three friends—the friends of former days."
" Of former days, my lord! In former days I had not only
three friends, I had fifty—at twenty, one calls every one one's
friend,"
"Well, sir," returned Mazarin; "prudence is a fine thing, but
to-day you might regret having been too prudent."
" My lord, Pythagoras made his disciples keep silence for five
years, that they might learn to hold their tongues."
" But you have been silent for twenty years, sir. Speak, now,
for the queen herself releases you from your promise."
" The queen!"
"Yes, the queen! And as a proof of what I say she com-
manded me to show you this diamond, which she thinks you
know."
And so saying, Mazarin extended his hand to the officer, who
sighed as he recognised the ring which had been given to him by
the queen on the night of the ball at the Hotel de Ville.
"'Tis true. I remember well that diamond."
"You see, then, that I speak to you in the queen's name.
Answer me without acting as if you were on the stage—your in-
terests are concerned in your doing so. Where are your friends ?"
THE GASCON AND THE ITALIAN
35
u I do hot know, my lord. We have parted company this long
time; all three have left the service."
" Where can you find them, then ?"
"Wherever they are, that's my business."
"Well, now what are your conditions if I employ you?"
" Money, my lord; as much money as what you wish me to
undertake will require."
" The devil he does ! Money! and a large sum !" said Mazarin.
"Pray are you aware that the king has no money now in his
treasury ?"
"Do then as I did, my lord. Sell the crown diamonds. Trust
me, don't let us try to do things cheaply. Great undertakings are
badly done with small means."
"Well," returned Mazarin, "we will satisfy you."
"Richelieu," thought D'Artagnan, would have given me five
hundred pistoles in advance."
"You will then be at my service?" asked Mazarin.
"And what are we to do?"
" Make your mind easy; when the time for action comes, you
shall be in full possession of what I require from you; wait till that
time arrives, and find out your friends."
" My lord, possibly they are not in Paris. I must, perhaps, make
a long journey to find them out. Travelling is dear, and I am only
a poor lieutenant in the Musketeers; besides, I have been in the
service for twenty-two years, and have accumulated nothing but
debts."
Mazarin remained some moments in deep thought, as if he com-
bated with himself; then, goiqg to a large cupboard closed with a
triple lock, he took from it a bag of silver, and weighing it twice in
his hands before he gave it to D'Artagnan—■
"Take this," he said, with a sigh, "'tis for your journey."
D'Artagnan bowed, and plunged the bag into the depth of an
immense pocket.
" Well, then, all is settled; you are to set off," said the Cardinal.
" Yes, my lord."
" Apropos, what are the names of your friends ?"
" The Count de la Fere, formerly styled Athos; Monsieur du
Valon, whom we used to call Porthos; the Chevalier d'Herblay—
how the Abbe d'Herblay—whom we used to call Aramis= "
The Cardinal smiled.
"Younger sons," he said, "who enlisted in the Musketeers
under feigned names in order not to lower their family names.
Long rapiers, but light purses, you know."
3—2
36
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
" If, God willing, these rapiers should be devoted to the Set-
vice of your Eminence," said D'Artagnan, "I shall venture
to express a wish—which is, that, in its turn, the purse of your
Eminence may become light, and theirs heavy—for with these
three men, your Eminence may rouse all Europe, if you like."
" These Gascons," said the Cardinal, laughing, "almost beat the
Italians in effrontery."
" — At all events," answered D'Artagnan, with a smile similar
to the Cardinal's, "they beat them when they draw their swords."
He then withdrew, and as he passed into the court-yard he
stopped near a lamp, and dived eagerly into the bag of money.
" Crown pieces only, silver pieces ! I suspected it. Ah, Mazarin !
Mazarin ! thou hast no confidence in me ! so much the worse for
thee—harm may come of it!"
Meanwhile the Cardinal was rubbing his hands in great satis-
faction.
" A hundred pistoles ! a hundred pistoles ! for a hundred pis-
toles I have discovered a secret for which Richelieu would have
paid a thousand crowns : without reckoning the value of that dia-
mond"—he cast a complacent look at the ring, which he had
kept, instead of restoring it to D'Artagnan—" which is worth, at
least, ten thousand francs."
He returned to his room, and, after depositing the ring in a
casket filled with brilliants of every sort—for the Cardinal was a
connoisseur in precious stones—he called to Bernouin to undress
him; regardless of the noises, or of the firing of guns which con-
tinued to resound through Paris, although it was now nearly mid-
night.
CHAPTER VI.
d'artagnan in his fortieth year.
Years have elapsed, many events have happened, alas! since, in
our romance of "The Three Musketeers," we took leave of
D'Artagnan, at No. 12 Rue des Fossoyeurs. D'Artagnan had not
failed in his career, but circumstances had been adverse to him.
So long as he was surrounded by his friends, he retained his
youth and the poetry of his character. His was one of those fine,
ingenuous natures which assimilate themselves easily to the dis-
positions of others. Athos imparted to him his greatness of soul;
Porthos, his enthusiasm; Aramis, his elegance. Had D'Artagnan
& ART A GNA N IN HIS FORTIETH YEAR.
37
continued his intimacy with these three men, he would have be-
come a superior character. Athos was the first to leave him, in
order that he might retire to a small property which he had in-
herited near Blois. Porthos, the second, to marry an attorney's
wife ; and lastly, Aramis, the third, to take orders, and become an
abbe. From that day D'Artagnan felt lonely and powerless, with-
out courage to pursue a career in which he could only distinguish
himself on condition that each of his three companions should
endow him with one of the gifts which each had received from
heaven.
Notwithstanding his commission in the Musketeers, D'Artagnan
felt completely solitary. For a time the delightful remembrance
of Madame Bonacieux left on his character a certain poetic tinge,
perishable, and, like all other recollections in this world, these im-
pressions were, by degrees, effaced. A garrison life is fatal even
to the most aristocratic organisations; and, imperceptibly, D'Ar-
tagnan, always in the camp, always on horseback, always in garri-
son, became (I know not how in the present age one would ex-
press it) a complete trooper. His early refinement of character
was not only not lost, but was even greater than ever; but it was
now applied to the little, instead of to the great things of life—to
the material condition of the soldier—comprised under the heads
of a good lodging, a good table, a good hostess. These impor-
tant advantages D'Artagnan found to his own taste in the Rue
Tiquetonne, at the sign of the Roe, where a pretty Flemish
woman, named Madeleine, presided.
In the evening, after his conversation with Mazarin, he returned
to his lodgings, absorbed in reflection. His mind was full of the
fine diamond which he had once called his own, and which he had
seen on the minister's finger that night.
"Should that diamond ever fall into my hands again," such was
his reflection, "I should turn it at once into money; I should
buy, with the proceeds, certain lands around my father's chateau,
which is a pretty place—well enough—but with no land to it at
all, except a garden about the size of the Cemetery des Innocents;
and I should wait, in all my glory, till some rich heiress, attracted
by my good looks, chose to marry me. Then I should like to have
three sons; I should make the first a nobleman, like Athos; the
second a good soldier, like Porthos; the third an excellent abbe,
like Aramis. Faith ! that would be a far better life than I lead
now; but Monsieur Mazarin is a mean wretch, who won't dis-
possess himself of his diamond in my favour."
On entering the Rue Tiquetonne he heard a tremendous noise,
and found a dense crowd near the house.
38
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Oh! oh!" Said he, " is the hotel on fire ?" On approaching
the hotel of the Roe, he found, however, that it was in front of the
next house that the mob was collected. The people were shouting,
and running about with torches. By the light of one of these
torches, D'Artagnan perceived men in uniform.
He asked what was going on.
He was told that twenty citizens, headed by one man, had
attacked a carriage, which was escorted by a troop of the Car-
dinal's bodyguard; but, a reinforcement having come up, the
assailants had been put to flight, and the leader had taken refuge
in the hotel, next to his lodgings; the house was now being
searched.
In his youth, D'Artagnan had ofteh headed the bourgeoisie
against the military, but he was cured of all those hot-headed 'pro-
pensities; besides, he had the Cardinal's hundred pistoles in his
pocket: so he went into the hotel without saying a word; he
found Madeleine alarmed for his safety, and anxious to tell him all
the events of the evening, but he cut her short by ordering her to
put his supper in his room, and to give him with it a bottle of
good Burgundy.
He took his key and his candle, and went upstairs to his bed-
room. He had been contented, for the convenience of the.house,
to lodge on the fourth story; and truth obliges us even to confess
that his chamber was just above the gutter and below the roof.
His first care on entering it was to lock up in an old bureau with a
new lock, his bag of money, and then as soon as supper was ready,
he sent away the waiter who brought it up, and sat down to table.
Not to reflect on what had passed, as one might fancy.
No—D'Artagnan considered that things are never well done when
they are not reserved to their proper time. He was hungry; he
supped, he went to bed. Neither was he one of those who think
that the silence of the night brings good counsel with it. In the
night he slept, but in the morning, refreshed and calm, he was
inspired with the clearest views of everything. It was long since
he had had any reason for his morning's inspiration, but he had
always slept all night long. At daybreak he awoke, and made a
turn round his room.
"In '43," he said, "just before the death of the late Cardinal, I
received a letter from Athos. Where was I then ? Let me see.
Oh ! at the siege of Besangon ! I was in the trenches. He told
me—let me think—what was it ? That he was living on a small
estate—but where? I was just reading the name of the place
when the wind blew my letter away—I suppose to the Spaniards;
D'ART A GNA N IN HIS FORTIETH YEAR.
39
there's no use in thinking any more about Athos. Let me see,—
with regard to Porthos, I received a letter from him, too. He
invited me to a hunting party on his property in the month of
September, 1646. Unluckily, as I was then in Beam, on account
of my father's death, the letter followed me there. I had left
Beam when it arrived, and I never received it until the month of
April, 1647; and as the invitation was for September, 1646, I
couldn't accept it. Let me look for this letter; it must be with
my title-deeds."
D'Artagnan opened an old casket, which stood in a corner of
the room, and which was full of parchments, referring to an estate,
during a period of two hundred years lost to his family. He
uttered an exclamation of delight, for the large handwriting of
Porthos was discernible, and beneath it some lines traced by his
worthy spouse.
D'Artagnan eagerly searched for the date of this letter; it was
dated from the Chateau du Vallon.
Porthos Imd forgotten that any other address was necessary; in
his pride he fancied that every one must know the Chateau du
Vallon.
" Devil take the vain fellow," said D'Artagnan. " However, I
had better find him out first, since he can't want money. Athos
must have become an idiot by this time from drinking. Aramis
must be absorbed in his devotional exercises."
He cast his eyes again on the letter. There was a postscript.
" I write by the same courier to our worthy friend Aramis in his
convent."
" In his convent! what convent ? There are about two hundred
in Paris, and three thousand in France; and then, perhaps, on
entering the convent he has changed his name. Ah! if I were
but learned in theology, I should recollect what it was he used to
dispute about with the Curate of Montdidier and the Superior of
the Jesuits, when we were at Crevecour; I should know what
doctrine he leans to, and I should glean from that what saint he
has adopted as his patron.
"Well, suppose I go back to the Cardinal and ask him for a
passport into all the convents one can find; even into the nun-
neries ? It would be a curious idea, and maybe I should find my
friend under the name of Achilles. But, no ! I should lose myself
in the Cardinal's opinion. Great people only thank you for doing
for them what's impossible; what's possible, they say, they can do
themselves, and they are right."
So he was perfectly ignorant either where to find Aramis any
40
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
more than Porthos, and the affair was becoming a matter of great
perplexity, when he fancied he heard a pane of glass break in his
room window. He thought directly of his bag, and rushed from
the inner room where he was sleeping. He was not mistaken; as
he entered his bedroom, a man was getting in by the window.
" Ah ! you scoundrel!" cried D'Artagnan, taking the man for a
thief, and seizing his sword.
" Sir," cried the man. " In the name of heaven put your sword
back into the sheath, and don't kill me unheard. I'm no thief,
but an honest citizen, well off in the world, with a house of my
own. My name is—ah! but surely you are Monsieur D'Artagnan?"
" And thou—Planchet!" cried the lieutenant.
"At your service, sir," said Planchet, overwhelmed with joy;
"and I'm still capable of serving you."
" Perhaps so," replied D'Artagnan. " But why the devil dost
thou run about the tops of houses at seven o'clock of the morning
in the month of January?"
" Sir," said Planchet, " you must know; but, perhaps, you ought
not to know- "
"Tell us what," returned D'Artagnan, "but first put a napkin
against the window, and "draw the curtains."
"Sir," said the prudent Planchet, "in particular, are you on
good terms with Monsieur de Rochefort ?"
"Perfectly; one of my dearest friends."
" Ah ! so much the better !"
" But what has De Rochefort to do with this manner you have
of invading my room ?"
" Ah, sir ! I must tell you that Monsieur de Rochefort is "
Planchet hesitated.
" Egad, I know where he is," said D'Artagnan. " He's in the
Bastille!"
"That is to say, he was there," replied Planchet. "But in re-
turning thither last night, when fortunately you did not accompany
him, as his carriage was crossing the Rue de la Ferronnerie, his
guards insulted the people, who began to abuse them. The pri-
soner thought this a good opportunity for escape; he called out
his name, and cried for help. I was there. I heard the name of
Rochefort. I remembered him well. I said in a loud voice that
he was a prisoner, a friend of the Due de Beaufort, who called
for help. The people were infuriated; they stopped the horses,
and cut the escort to pieces, whilst I opened the doors of the
carriage, and Monsieur de Rochefort jumped out and was lost
amongst the crowd, At this moment a patrol passed by. I was
D'ARTAGNAN IN INS FORTIETH YEAR.
41
obliged to sound a retreat towards the Rue Tiquetonne; I was
pursued, and took refuge in a house next to this, where I have
been concealed till this morning on the top of the house, between
two mattresses. I ventured to run along the gutters, and "
"Well," interrupted D'Artagnan, "I am delighted that De
Rochefort is free; but as for thee, if thou shouldst fall into the
hands of the king's servants, they will hang thee without mercy.
Nevertheless, I promise thee thou shalt he hidden here, though I
risk by concealing thee neither more nor less than my lieutenancy,
if it was found out that I gave a rebel an asylum."
"Ah! sir, you know well I would risk my life for you."
"Thoumayst add that thou hast risked it, Planchet. I have
not forgotten all I owe thee. Sit down there, and eat in security.
I see thee cast expressive glances at the remains of my supper."
"Yes, sir; for all I've had since yesterday was a slice of bread
and butter with preserve on it. Although I don't despise sweet
things in proper time and place, yet I found that supper rather
light."
"Poor fellow!" said D'Artagnan. "Well, come; set to."
"Ah, sir! you are going to save my life a second time," cried
Planchet.
And he seated himself at the table, and ate as he did in the
merry days of the Rue des Fossoyeurs, whilst D'Artagnan walked to
and fro, and thought how he could make use of Planchet under
present circumstances. While he turned this over in his mind,
Planchet did his best to make up for lost time at table.
At last he uttered a sigh of satisfaction, and paused, as if he had
partially appeased his hunger.
" Come," said D'Artagnan, who thought that it was now a con-
venient time to begin his interrogations, " dost thou know where
Athos is ?"
"No, sir," replied Planchet.
" The devil thou dost not! Dost know where Porthos is ?"
"No—not at all."
" And Aramis ?"
"Not in the least."
" The devil! the devil! the devil!"
" But, sir," said Planchet, with a look of surprise, " I know where
Bazin is."
" Where is he ?"
"At Notre Dame."
"What has he to do at Notre Dame?"
" He is bedell,"
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Bazin bedell at Notre Dame! He must know where his
master is!"
"Without doubt he must."
D'Artagnan thought for a moment, then took his sword, and put
on his cloak ready to go out.
" Sir," said Planchet, in a mournful tone, " do you abandon me
thus to my fate! Think, if I am found out here, the people of
the house, who have not seen me enter it, must take me for a thief."
"True," said D'Artagnan. "Let's see. Canst thou speak any
patois ?"
"I-can do something better than that, sir; I can speak Flera-
ish."
" Where the devil didst thou learn it ?"
" In Artois, where I fought for two years. Listen, sir. Gooden
morgen, mynheer, ith ben begeeray le weeten the ge sond heets
omstand."
" Which means ?
" Good day, sir! I am anxious to know the state of your
health."
" He calls that knowing a language ! but, never mind, that will
do capitally."
D'Artagnan opened the door, and called out to a waiter to de-
sire Madeleine to come upstairs.
When the landlady made her appearance, she expressed much
astonishment at seeing Planchet.
" My dear landlady," said D'Artagnan, " I beg to introduce to
you your brother, who is arrived from Flanders, and whom I am
going to take into my service."
" My brother ?"
"Wish your sister good morning, Master Peter."
"Wilkom, suster," said Planchet.
"Goeden day, broder," replied the astonished landlady.
"This is the case," said D'Artagnan: "this is your brother,
Madeleine; you don't know him, perhaps, but I know him; he has
arrived from Amsterdam. You must dress him up during my
absence. When I return, which will be in about an hour, you
must offer him to me as a servant, and, upon your recommendation,,
though he doesn't speak a word of French, I take him into my
service. You understand ?"
" That is to say, I guess your wishes; and that is all that's ne-
cessary," said Madeleine.
"You are a precious creature, my pretty hostess, and I'm obliged
to you."
The next moment D'Artagnan was on his way to Notre Dame,
DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A F/STOLE. 43
CHAPTER VII,
touches upon the different effects which half a pistole
may produce upon a bedell and a chorister.
D'Artagnan, as he passed the Pont Neuf, congratulated himself
upon having found Planchet again; for at that time an intelligent
servant was essential to him; nor was he sorry that through Plan-
chet, and the situation which he held in the Rue des Lombards, a
connection with the bourgeoisie might be commenced, at that cri-
tical period when that class were preparing to make war with the
court party. It was like having a spy in the enemy's camp. In
this frame of mind, grateful for the accidental meeting with Plan-
chet, pleased with himself, D'Artagnan reached Notre Dame. He
ran up the steps, entered the church, and addressing a verger who
was sweeping the chapel, asked him if he knew Monsieur Bazin.
"Monsieur Bazin, the bedell," said the verger. "Yes; there he
is, attending mass, in the chapel of the Virgin."
D'Artagnan nearly jumped for joy—he had despaired of finding
Bazin; but now, he thought, since he held one of the threads, he
should be pretty sure to reach the other end of the clue.
He knelt down just opposite to the chapel, in order not to lose
sight of his man; and as he had almost forgotten his prayers, and
had omitted to take a book^with him, he made use of his time in
gazing at Bazin.
Bazin wore his dress, it may be observed, with equal dignity and
saintly propriety. It was not difficult to understand that he had
gained the summit of his ambition, and that the silver-mounted
wand which he brandished was, in his eyes, as honourable a dis-
tinction as the marshal's baton, which Conde threw, or did not
throw, into the enemy's line of battle at Fribourg. His person
had undergone a change, analogous to the change in -his dress;
his figure was rounded, and, as it were, canonized. The striking
points of his face were effaced; he had still a nose; but his cheeks,
fattened out, each took off a portion of it into 'themselves; his
chin was joined to his throat; his eyes were swelled up with the
puffiness of his cheeks; his hair, cut straight in holy guise, covered
his forehead as far as his eyebrows.
The officiating priest was just finishing the mass, whilst D'Ar-
tagnan was looking at Bazin; he pronounced the words of the holy
sacrament, and retired, giving the benediction, which was received
by the kneeling communicants, to the astonishment of D'Artagnan,
44
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
who recognised in the priest the Coadjutor"' himself, the famous
Jean Frangois Goneli, who at that time, having a presentiment of
the part he was to play, was beginning to court popularity by alms-
giving. It was to this end that he performed from time to time
some of those early masses which the common people generally
alone attended.
D'Artagnan knelt as well as the rest, received his share of the
benediction, and made the sign of the" cross; but when Bazin
passed in his turn, with his eyes raised to heaven, and walking, in
all humility, the very last, D'Artagnan pulled him by the hem of
his robe.
Bazin looked down and started as if he had seen a serpent.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan !" he cried ; " Vade retra, Satanas !"
"So, my dear Bazin," said the officer, laughing, "this is the way
you receive an old friend."
"Sir," replied Bazin, "the true friends of a Christian are those
who aid him in working out his salvation; not those who hinder
him in so doing."
" I don't understand you, Bazin; nor can I see how I can be a
stumbling-block in the way of your salvation," said D'Artagnan.
" You forget, sir, that you very nearly ruined for ever that of my
master; and that it was owing to you that he was very nearly being
damned eternally for remaining a Musketeer, whilst his true voca-
tion was for the church."
"My dear Bazin, you ought to perceive," said D'Artagnan,
" from the place in which you find me, that I am much changed
in everything. Age produces good sense, and, as I doubt not but
that your master is on the road to salvation, I want you to tell me
where he is, that he may help me to mine."
" Rather say—to take him back with you into the world. For-
tunately, I don't know where he is."
" How !" cried D'Artagnan; " you don't know where Aramis is ?"
" Formerly," replied Bazin, " Aramis was his name of perdition.
By Aramis is meant Simara, which is the name of a demon.
Happily for him, he has ceased to bear that name."
D'Artagnan saw clearly that he should get nothing out of this
man, who was evidently telling a falsehood in his pretended igno-
ranee of the abode of Aramis, but whose falsehoods were bold and
decided.
" Well, Bazin," said D'Artagnan, " since you do not know where
your master lives, let us speak of it no more; let us part good
friends. Accept this half-pistole to drink to my health."
A sacerdotal office.
DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A PISTOLE. 43
" I do not drink "—Bazin pushed away with dignity the officer's
hand—"'tis good only for the laity."
" Incorruptible !" murmured D'Artagnan; " I am unlucky;" and
whilst he was lost in thought, Bazin retreated towards the sacristy,
where he was only, as he thought, secure by shutting the door and
closing himself in.
D'Artagnan was still in deep thought, when some one touched
him on the shoulder. He turned, and uttered an exclamation of
surprise.
" You here, Rochefort ?" he said in a low voice.
" Hush!" returned Rochefort. " Do you know that I am at
liberty ?"
" I knew it from the fountain-head—from Planchet. And what
brought you here ?"
" I came to thank God for my happy deliverance," said
Rochefort.
"And nothing more? I suppose that is not all."
"To take my orders from the Coadjutor, and to see if we cannot
plague Mazarin a little."
"A bad plan; you'll be shut up again in the Bastille."
" Oh, as to that, I shall take care,'I assure you. The=air, the fresh
free air, is so good; besides"—and Rochefort drew a deep breath
as he spoke—" I am going into the country to make a tour."
" Stop," cried D'Artagnan; " I, too, am going."
"And if I may, without impertinence, ask—where are you
going?"
" To seek my friends. To find out Athos, Porthos, and Aramis."
" And when do you set out ?"
" I am now on my road."
" Good luck to you."
"And to you—a good journey."
" Perhaps we shall meet on our road. Adieu! till we meet
again ! Apropos, should Mazarin speak to you about me, tell him
that I have requested you to acquaint him that in a short time he
will see whether I am, as he says, too old for action."
And Rochefort went away with one of those diabolical smiles
which used formerly to make D'Artagnan shudder, but D'Artagnan
could now see it without anguish, and, smiling in his turn, with
an expression of melancholy, which the recollections called up by
that smile, could, perhaps, alone give to his countenance, he said:
" Go, demon, do what thou wilt! it matters little to me. There
is not a second Constance in the world."
On his return into the cathedral, D'Artaenan saw Bazin, who was
46
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
conversing with the sacristan. Bazin was making with his spare,
little, short arms, ridiculous gestures. D'Artagnan perceived that
he was enforcing prudence with respect to himself.
D'Artagnan slipped out of the cathedral, and placed himself in
ambuscade at the corner of the Rue des Canettes; it was im-
possible that Bazin could go out of the cathedral without his
seeing him.
In five minutes Bazin made his appearance, looking in every
direction to see if he were observed, but he saw no one. Tran-
quilised by appearances, he ventured to walk on through the Rue
Notre Dame. Then D'Artagnan rushed out of his hiding-place,
and arrived in time to see Bazin turn-down the Rue dela Juiverie,
and enter, in the Rue de la Calandre, a respectable-looking house;
and this D'Artagnan felt no doubt was the habitation of the worthy
bedell. Afraid of making any inquiries at this house, D'Artagnan
entered a small tavern at the corner of the street, and asked for a
cup of hypocras. This beverage required a good half-hour to pre-.
pare it, and D'Artagnan had time, therefore, to watch Bazin un-
suspected.
He perceived in the tavern a pert boy between twelve and fifteen
years of age, whom he fancied he had seen not twenty minutes
before, under the guise of a chorister. He questioned him; and
as the boy had no interest in deceiving, D'Artagnan learned that
he exercised from six o'clock in the morning until nine, the office
of chorister; and from nine o'clock till midnight that of a waiter
in the tavern.
Whilst he was talking to this lad, a horse was brought to the
door of Bazin's house. It was saddled and bridled. Almost im-
mediately Bazin came downstairs.
" Look !" said the boy, " there's our bedell, who is going a
journey."
"And where is he going?" asked D'Artagnan,
"Forsooth, I don't know."
" Half a pistole if you can find out," said D'Artagnan.
"For me ?" cried the child, his eyes sparkling with joy, "if I can
find out where Bazin is going ? 'Tis not difficult. You are not
joking—'are you ?"
" No, on the honour of an officer [ there is the half pistoleand
he showed him the seductive coin, but did not give it him.
" I shall ask him."
"Just the very way not to know. Wait till he is set out, and
then, marry, come up—ask, and find out. The half-pistole is
readyand he put it back again into his pocket,
DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF HALF A PISTOLE.
47
" I understand," said the child, with that jeering smile which
marks especially the "gamin de Paris." "Well, we must wait."
They had not long to wait. Five minutes afterwards Bazin set
off on a full trot, urging on his horse by the blows of a paraphine,
which he was in the habit of using instead of a riding-whip.
Scarcely had he turned the corner of the Rue de la Juiverie, then
the boy rushed after him like a blood-hound on full scent.
Before five minutes had elapsed the child returned.
<£ Well!" said D'Artagnan. r
" Well!" answered the boy j " the thing is done."
" Where is he gone ?"
" The half-pistole is for me ?"
" Doubtless; answer me."
" I want to see it. Give it me, that I may see that it is not
false.".
"There it is."
The child put the piece of money into his pocket.
" And now, where is he gone ?" inquired D'Artagnan.
" He is gone to Noisy."
" How dost thou know ?"
" Ah, faith ! there was no great cunning necessary. I knew the
horse which he rode; it belonged to the butcher who lets it out
now and then to M. Bazin. Now, I thought as much that the
butcher would not let his horse out like that without knowing
where it went to. And he answered, ' that Monsieur Bazin went
to Noisy. 'Tis his custom. He goes two or three times a-week.'"
"Dost thou know Noisy well?"
" I think so, truly; my nurse lives there."
"Is there a convent at Noisy?"
" Isn't there a grand one—a convent of Jesuits."
" What's thy name ?"
c" Friquet."
D'Artagnan wrote down the child's name in his tablets.
" Please, sir," said the boy, " do you think I can get any .more
half-pistoles any way ?"
" Perhaps," replied D'Artagnan.
And, having got out all he wanted, he paid for the hypocras,
which he did not drink, and went quickly back to the Rue
Tiquetonne.
48
'TWENTY YEARS AFTER;
CHAPTER VIII.
how d'artagnan, on going to a distance to find out aratolg,
discovers that his friend was riding behind planchet.
The plan adopted by D'Artagnan was soon perfected. He re-
solved not to reach Noisy in the day, for fear of being recognised:
he had therefore plenty of time before him, for Noisy is only three
or four leagues from Paris, on the road to Meaux.
He began his day by breakfasting very substantially—a bad be-
ginning when one wants to employ the head, but an excellent pre-
caution when one wants to work the body; and about two o'clock
he had his two horses saddled, and followed by Planchet, he
quitted Paris by the Barriere de la Villette.
At about a league and a half from the city, D'Artagnan, finding
that in his impatience he had set out too soon, stopped to give the
horses breathing time. The inn was full of disreputable-looking
people* who seemed as if they were on the point of commencing
some nightly expedition. A man, wrapped in a cloak, appeared
at the door; but seeing a stranger, he beckoned to his companions,
and two men who were drinking in the inn went out to speak to
him.
D'Artagnan, on his side, went up to the landlady—praised her
wine—which was a horrible production from the country of Mon-
treuil—and heard from her that there were only two houses of im-
portance in the village; one of these belonged to the Archbishop
of Paris, and was at that time the abode of his niece, the Duchess
of Longueville; the other was a convent of Jesuits, and was the
property—a by no means unusual circumstance—of these worthy
fathers.
At four o'clock D'Artagnan recommenced his journey. He
proceeded slowly, and in a deep reverie. Planchet was also lost
in thought, but the subject of their reflections was not the same.
One word which their landlady had pronounced had given, a
particular turn to D'Artagnan's deliberations—this was the name
of Madame de Longueville.
That name was, indeed, one to inspire imagination, and to pro-
duce thought. Madame de Longueville was one of the highest
ladies in the realm; she was also one of the greatest beauties at
the court. She had formerly been suspected of an intimacy of too
tender a nature with Coligny—who, for her sake, had been killed
in a duel, in the Place Royale, by the Due de Guise. She was
ARAMIS RIDES BEHIND PLANCHE T.
49
now connected by a bond of a political nature with the Prince de
Marsillac, the eldest son of the old Due de Rochefoucauld, whom
she was trying to inspire with an enmity towards the Due de
Conde, her brother-in-law, whom she now hated mortally.
D'Artagnan thought of all these matters. He remembered how,
at the Louvre, he had often seen, as she passed by him in the full
radiance of her dazzling charms, the beautiful Madame de Longue-
ville. He thought of Aramis, who, without possessing any greater
advantages than he had, had formerly been the lover of Madame
de Chevreux, who had been in another court what Madame de
Longueville was in that day; and he wondered how it was that
there should be in the world people who succeed in every wish—
some in ambition, others in love—whilst others, either from chance
or from ill-luck, or from some natural defect or impediment, remain
only halfway on the road towards the goal of their hopes and ex-
pectations.
He was confessing to himself that he belonged to the latter class
of persons, when Planchet approached, and said:
" I will lay a wager, your honour, that you and I are thinking of
the same thing."
" I doubt it, Planchet," replied D'Artagnan—" but what are you
thinking of?"
" I am thinking, sir, of those desperate-looking men who were
drinking in the inn where we rested."
"Always cautious, Planchet."
"'Tis instinct, your honour."
" Well, what does your instinct tell you now ?"
" Sir, my instinct told me that those people were assembled
there for some bad purpose; and I was reflecting on what my
instinct had told me, in the darkest corner of the stable, when a
man, wrapped in a cloak, and followed by two other men, came
in."
"Ah!"
"One of these two men said, 'He must certainly be at Noisy,
or be coming there this evening, for I've seen his servant.'
"' Art thou sure ?' said the man in the cloak.
"' Yes, my prince.'"
" My prince !" interrupted D'Artagnan.
"Yes, 'my prince'—but listen. 'If he is here'—this is what
the other man said—'let's see decidedly what to do with him.'
" < What to do with him ?' answered the prince.
« < Yes, he's not a man to allow himself to be taken anyhow—
he'll defend himself,'
4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
«'Well—we must try to take him alive. Have you cords to
bind him with, and a gag to stop his mouth ?'
■ «(We have.'
«< Remember that he will most likely be disguised as a horse-
man.'
»'Yes, yes, my lord—don't be uneasy.'
"'Besides, I shall be there.'
"' You will assure us that justice '
" ' Yes, yes—I answer for all that,' the prince said.
"'Well, then, we'll do our best.' Having said that, they went
out of the stable."
" Well—what matters all that to us ?" said D'Artagnan; " this is
one of those attempts that happen every day."
" Are you sure that we are not its objects ?"
"We—why ?"
"Just remember what they said;" and Planchet recapitulated
what he had just stated.
" Alas! my dear Planchet," said D'Artagnan, sighing, " we are
unfortunately no longer in those times in which princes would
care to assassinate me. Those were good old days: never fear—
these people owe us no grudge."
" Is your honour sure ?"
"I can answer for it they do not."
"Well—we won't speak of it any more, then;" and Planchet
took his place in D'Artagnan's suite with that sublime confidence
which he had always had in his master, and which fifteen years of
separation had not destroyed.
They had travelled onwards about half a mile, when Planchet
came close up to D'Artagnan.
"Stop, sir; look yonder," he whispered; "don't you see, in the
darkness, something pass by, like shadows? I fancy I hear
horses' feet."
" Impossible !" returned D'Artagnan. " The ground is soaked
in rain; yet I fancy, as thou sayest, that I see something."
At this moment the neighing of a horse struck upon his ear—
coming through darkness and space.
" There are men somewhere about; but that's of no consequence
to us," said D'Artagnan; "let us ride onwards."
At about half-past eight o'clock they reached the first houses in
Noisy; every one was in bed, and not a light was to be seen in
the village. The obscurity was broken only now and then by the
dark lines of the roofs of houses. Here and there a dog barked
behind a door, or an affrighted cat fled precipitately from the
ARAMIS RIDES BEHIND BLANCHE T.
5i
midst of the pavement, to take refuge behind a heap of faggots,
from which retreat her eyes shone like carbuncles. These were
the only living creatures that seemed to inhabit the village.
Towards the middle of the town, commanding the principal
open space, rose a dark mass, separated from the rest of the world
by two lanes, and overshadowed in the front by enormous lime-
trees. D'Artagnan looked attentively at the building.
" This," he said to Planchet, " must be the archbishop's chateau,
the abode of the fair Madame de Longueville; but the convent,
where is that ?"
" The convent, your honour, is at the end of the village; I know
it well."
" Well, then, Planchet, gallop up to it, whilst I tighten my horse's
girth, and come back and tell me if there is a light in any of the
Jesuits' windows."
In about five minutes Planchet returned.
" Sir," he said, " there is one window of the convent lighted up."
" Hem! If I were a ' Frondeur,'" said D'Artagnan, " I should
knock here, and should be sure of a good supper. If I were a monk,
I should knock yonder, and should have a good supper there, too;
whereas, 'tis very possible that, between the castle and the convent,
we shall sleep on hard beds, dying with hunger and thirst."
"Yes," added Planchet, "like the famous ass of Buridan.
Shall I knock?"
" Hush!" replied D'Artagnan; " the light in the window is
extinguished."
" Do you hear nothing ?" whispered Planchet.
"What is that noise?"
There came a sound like a whirlwind, and at the same time two
troops of horsemen, each composed of ten men, sallied forth from
each of the lanes which encompassed the house, and surrounded
D'Artagnan and Planchet.
" Heyday!" cried D'Artagnan, drawing his sword, and taking
refuge behind his horse ; "are you not mistaken ? is it us you wish
to attack—us ?"
" Here he is ! we have him now," said the horsemen, rushing on
D'Artagnan with naked swords.
" Don't let him escape," said a loud voice.
"No, my lord; be assured, we shall not."
D'Artagnan thought it was now time for him to join in the
conversation.
" Hallo, gentlemen !" he called out in his Gascon accent, " what
do you want—what do you demand ?"
4—2
52
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Thou wilt soon know," shouted a chorus of horsemen.
" Stop, stop!" cried he whom they had addressed as " my lord
"'tis not his voice."
"Ah! just so, gentlemen! pray do people get into passions at
random at Noisy? Take care, for I warn you that the first man
that comes within the length of my sword—and my sword is long
—I rip him up."
The chieftain of the party drew near.
" What are you doing here ?" he asked, in a lofty tone, and like
one accustomed to command.
" And you—what are you doing here ?" replied D'Artagnan.
" Be civil, or I shall beat you; for, although one may not choose
to proclaim one's self, one insists on respect suitable to one's rank."
"You don't choose to discover yourself, because you are the
leader of an ambuscade," returned D'Artagnan; " but with regard
to myself, who am travelling quietly with my own servant, I have
not the same reasons as you have to conceal my name!"
" Enough ! enough ! what is your name ?"
" I shall tell you my name in order that you may know where
to find me, my lord, or my prince, as it may suit you best to be
called," said our Gascon, who did not choose to seem to yield to
a threat. " Do you know Monsieur D'Artagnan ?"
" Lieutenant in the king's regiment of Musketeers ?" said the
voice; "you are Monsieur D'Artagnan?"
" I am."
" Then you are come here to defend him ?"
"Him? whom? Him?"
"Him whom we are seeking."
" It seems," said D'Artagnan, " that whilst I thought I was
coming to Noisy, I have entered, without suspecting it, into the
kingdom of mysteries."
" Come," replied the same lofty tone, " answer! Are you
waiting for him underneath these windows ? Did you come to
Noisy to defend him?"
" I am waiting for no one," replied D'Artagnan, who was begin-
ning to be angry.
"Well, well," rejoined the leader, "there's no doubt 'tis a
Gascon who is speaking, and therefore not the man we are looking
for. We shall meet again, Master D'Artagnan; let us go onwards,
gentlemen."
And the troop, angry and complaining, disappeared in the dark-
ness, and took the road to Paris. D'Artagnan and Planchet
remained for some moments still on the defensive; then, as the
ARAM1S RIDES BEHIND PLANCHET.
53
noise of the horsemen became more and more distant, they sheathed
their swords.
" Thou seest, simpleton," said D'Artagnan to his servant, " that
they wished no harm to us."
"JBut to whom, then?"
" I'faith! I don't know, nor care. What I care for now, is to
make my way into the Jesuits' convent; so, to horse, and let us
knock at their door. Happen what will—devil take them—they
won't eat us."
And he mounted his horse. Planchet had just done the same,
when an unexpected weight fell upon the back of his horse, which
sank down.
" Hey! your honour !" cried Planchet, " I've a man behind me."
D'Artagnan turned round, and saw, plainly, two human forms
upon Planchet's horse.
" 'Tis then the devil that pursues us!" he cried, drawing his
sword, and preparing to attack the new foe.
"No, no, dear D'Artagnan," said the figure, "'tis not the devil,
'tis Aramis; gallop last, Planchet, and when you come to the end
of the village, go to the left."
And Planchet,.with Aramis behind him, set off full gallop, fol-
lowed by D'Artagnan, who began to think he was dreaming some
incoherent and fantastic dream.
CHAPTER IX.
the abbe d'herblay
At the extremity of the village Planchet turned to the left, in
obedience to the orders of Aramis, and stopped underneath the
window which had a light in it. Aramis alighted, and knocked
three times .with his hands. Immediately the window was opened,
and a ladder of rope was let down from it.
" My friend," said Aramis, " if you like to ascend, I shall be
delighted to receive you."
"Pass on before me, I beg of you."
" As the late Cardinal used to say to the late king—only to
show you the way, sire." And Aramis ascended the ladder quickly,
and reached the window in an instant.
D'Artagnan followed, but less nimbly, showing plainly that this
mode of ascent was not one to which he was accustomed.
54
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
"Sir," said Planchet, when he saw D'Artagnan on the summit of
the ladder, " this way is easy for Monsieur Aramis, and even for
you; in case of necessity I might also climb up, but my two horses
cannot mount the ladder."
" Take them to yonder shed, my friend," said Aramis, pointing
to a building in the plain, "there you will find hay and straw for
them; then come back here, and knock thrice, and we will give
you out some provisions. Marry, forsooth, people don't die of
hunger here."
And Aramis, drawing in the ladder, closed the window. D'Ar-
tagnan then looked around him attentively.
Never was there an apartment at the same time more warlike
and more elegant. At each corner there were trophies, presenting
to the view swords of all sorts, and four great pictures representing
in their ordinary military costume the Cardinal de Lprraine, the
Cardinal de Richelieu, the Cardinal de la Valette, and the Arch-
bishop of Bordeaux. Exteriorly nothing in the room showed that
it was the habitation of an abbe. The hangings were of damask,
the carpets came from Alengon, and the bed, more especially, had
more the look of .a fine lady's couch, with its trimmings of fine
lace, and its embroidered counterpane, than of a man who had
made a vow that he would endeavour to gain heaven by fasting'
and mortification.
Whilst D'Artagnan was engaged in contemplation the door
opened, and Bazin entered; on perceiving the Musketeer he ut-
tered an exclamation which was almost a cry of despair.
" My dear Bazin," said D'Artagnan, " I am delighted to see with
what wonderful composure you tell a lie even in a church !"
"Sir," replied Bazin, "I have been taught by the good Jesuit
fathers, that it is permitted to tell a falsehood when it is told in a
good cause."
" So far well," said Aramis; "we are dying of hunger. Serve us up
the best supper you can, and especially give us some good wine."
Bazin bowed low, and left the room.
"Now we are alone, dear Aramis," said D'Artagnan, "tell me
how the devil did you manage to light upon the back of Planchet's
horse ?"
"Eh ! faith !" answered Aramis, "as you see, from heaven."
" From heaven !" replied D'Artagnan, shaking his head; " you
have no more the appearance of coming from thence than you have
of going there."
"My friend," said Aramis,.with a look of imbecility on his face
which D'Artagnan had never observed whilst he was in the Mus-
THE ABBE Ds HERB LA K 55
keteers, " if I did not come from heaven, at least I was leaving
paradise, which is almost the same."
" Here, then, is a puzzle for the learned," observed D'Artagnan;
" until now they have never been able to agree as to the situation
of paradise: some place it on Mount Ararat, others between the
Tigris and the Euphrates; it seems that they have been looking
very far off for it, while it was actually very near. Paradise is at
Noisy le See, upon the site of the archbishop's chateau. People
do not go out from it by the door, but by the window; one doesn't
descend here by the marble steps of a peristyle, but by the branches
of a lime tree; and the angel with a flaming sword who guards this
elysium, seems to have changed his celestial name of Gabriel into
that of the more terrestrial one of the Prince de Marsillac."
Aramis burst out into a fit of laughter.
"You were always a merry companion, my dear D'Artagnan,"
he said, " and your witty Gascon fancy has not deserted you. Yes,
there is something in what you say; nevertheless, do not believe
that it is Madame de Longueville with whom I am in love."
"A plague on't! I shall not do so. Aftef having been so long in
love with Madame de Chevreuse, you would not lay your heart at th£
feet of her mortal enemy !"
"Yes," replied Aramis, with an absent air, "yes, that poor
duchess ! I once loved her much, and, to do her justice, she was
very useful to us. Eventually she was obliged to leave France. He
was a relentless enemy, that damned Cardinal," continued Aramis,
glancing at the portrait of the old minister. " He had even given
orders to arrest her, and would have cut off her head, had she not
escaped with her waiting-maid—poor Kitty! The duchess escaped
in man's clothes, and a couplet was made upon her "—and Aramis
hummed a few lines of a well-known song of the day.
" Bravo !" cried D'Artagnan, " you sing charmingly, dear Aramis.
I do not perceive that singing masses has altered your voice."
" My dear D'Artagnan," replied Aramis, " you understand, when
I was a Musketeer I mounted guard as seldom as I could; now,
when I am an abbe, I say as few masses as I can. But to re-
turn to our duchess."
" Which ? the Duchesse de Chevreuse or the Duchesse de
Longueville ?"
" Have I not already told you that there is nothing between me
and the Duchesse de Longueville? little flirtations, perhaps, and that's
all. No, I spoke of the Duchesse de Chevreuse; did you see her
after her return from Brussels, after the king's death ?"
"Yes, she is still beautiful."
56
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Yes," said Aramis, " I saw her also at that time. I gave her
good advice, by which she did not profit. I ventured to tell her
that Mazarin was the lover of Anne of Austria. She wouldn't
believe me, saying, that she knew Anne of Austria, who was too
proud to love such a worthless coxcomb. She since plunged into
the cabal headed by the Duke of Beaufort; and the ' coxcomb'
arrested De Beaufort, and banished Madame de Chevreuse."
" You know," resumed D'Artagnan, " that she has had leave to
return to France ?"
" Yes, she is come back, and is going to commit some fresh folly
or another; she is much changed."
" In that respect unlike you, my dear Aramis, for you are still the
same; you have still your beautiful dark hair, still your elegant
figure, still your feminine hands, which are admirably suited to a
prelate."
"Yes," replied Aramis, "I am extremely careful of my appear-
ance. Do you know that I am growing old; I am nearly thirty-
seven."
" Mind, Aramis "—D'Artagnan smiled as he spoke—" since we
are together again, let us agree on one point, what age shall we be
in future ?"
" How ?"
" Formerly, I was your junior by two or three years, and, if I am
not mistaken, I am turned forty years old."
" Indeed ! Then 'tis I who am mistaken, for you have always
been a good chronologist. By your reckoning I must be forty-three
at least. The devil I am ! Don't let it out at the Hotel Ram-
bouillet, it would ruin me," replied the abb6.
" Don't be afraid, I shall not," said D'Artagnan.
" And now let us go to supper," said Aramis, seeing that Bazin
had returned and prepared the table.
The two friends sat down, and Aramis began to cut up fowls,
partridges, and hams with admirable skill.
"The deuce!" cried D'Artagnan; "do you live in this way
always ?"
"Yes, pretty well. The Coadjutor has given me dispensations
from fasting on the jours maigres, on account of my health; then
I have engaged as my cook, the cook who lived with Lafollome—
you know whom I mean ?—the friend of the Cardinal, and the
famous epicure whose grace after dinner used to be—' Good Lord,
do me the favour to make me digest what I have eaten.'"
"Nevertheless, he died of indigestion, in spite of his grace," said
D'Artagnan.
THE ABBE H HERBLA K
57
{< What can you expect ?" replied Aramis, in a tone of resigna-
tion; " a man must fulfil his destiny."
"Ifit be not an indelicate question," resumed D'Artagnan, "are
you grown rich ?"
" Oh, heaven! no. I make about twelve thousand francs a
year, without counting a little benefice which the prince gave me."
" And how do you make your twelve thousand francs ?—by your
poems ?"
"No, I've given up poetry, except now and then to write a
drinking song, some gay sonnet, or some innocent epigram; I
make sermons, my friend."
" How ! sermons ? Do you preach them ?"
"No; I sell them to those of my cloth who wish to become
great orators."
" Ah, indeed ! and you have not been tempted by the hopes of
reputation yourself?"
" I should, my dear D'Artagnan, have been so, but nature said
'No.' When I am in the pulpit, if by chance, a pretty woman
looks at me, I look at her again; if she smiles, I smile also. Then
I speak at random; instead of preaching about the torments of
hell, I talk of the joys of paradise. An event took place in the
Church of St. Louis au Marais. A gentleman laughed in my face.
I stopped short tc tell him that he was a fool; the congregation
went out to get stones to stone me with; but whilst they were
away, I found means to conciliate the priests who were present, so
that my foe was pelted instead of me. 'Tis true that he came the
next morning to my house, thinking that he had to do with an
abb£—like all other abbes."
" And what was the end of the affair ?"
"We met in the Place Royale—Egad, you know about it."
"Was I not your second?" cried D'Artagnan.
"You were—you know how I settled the matter !"
" Did he die ?"
" I don't know. But, at all events, I gave him absolution ' in
articulo mortis.' 'Tis enough to kill the body, without killing the
soul."
A long silence ensued after this disclosure. Aramis was the
first to break it.
"What are you thinking of, D'Artagnan?" he began.
" I was thinking, my good friend, that when you were a Mus-
keteer you turned your thoughts incessantly to the Church, and
now that you are an Abbe you are perpetually longing to be a
Musketeer."
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Tis true—man, as you know," said Aramis, "is a strange
animal, made up of contradictions. Since I became an abbe I
dream of nothing but battles. I practise shooting all day long,
with an1 excellent master whom we have here."
"How! here?"
" Yes, in this convent—we have always a ' maitre d'armes' in a
convent of Jesuits."
" Then you would have killed the Prince de Marsillac if he had
attacked you singly ?"
"Certainly," replied Aramis, "with the greatest ease."
"Well, dear Aramis, you ask me why I have been searching for
you. I sought you, in order to offer you a way of killing Monsieur
de Marsillac whenever you please—prince though he may be. Are
you ambitious ?"
"As ambitious as Alexander."
" Well, my friend, I bring you the means of being rich, powerful,
and free, if you wish. Have you, my dear Aramis, thought some-
times of those happy days of our youth that we passed laughing,
and drinking, and fighting each other for play ?"
" Certainly—and more than once regretted them—'twas a happy
time."
" Well, these happy days may return; I am commissioned to
find out my companions, and I began by you—who were the very
soul of our society."
Aramis bowed rather with respect than pleasure at the compli-
ment.
"To meddle in politics," he exclaimed, in a languid voice,
leaning back in his easy chair. " Ah ! dear D'Artagnan ! see how
regularly I live—and how easy I am here. We have experienced
the ingratitude of 'the great,' as you know."
" 'Tis true, " replied D'Artagnan. " Yet the great sometimes
repent of their ingratitude."
" In that case, it would be quite another thing. Come ! let's be
merciful to every sinner; besides, you are right in another respect,
which is, in thinking that if we were to meddle in politics, there
could not be a better time than this."
" How can you know that ? You would never interest yourself
in politics ?"
"Ah? without caring about them myself, I live among those
who are much occupied in them. Poet as I am, I am intimate
with Sarazin—who is devoted to the Prince de Conti, and with
Monsieur de Bois-Robert,' who, since the death of Cardinal Riche-
lieu, is of all or any party, so that political discussions have not
altogether been uninteresting to me."
THE ABBE B'HERBLA K
59
" I have no doubt of it," said D'Artagnan.
"Now, my dear friend, don't look upon all I tell you as merely
the statement of a monk—but of a man who resembles an echo
—repeating simply what he hears. I understand that Mazarin is,
at this very moment, extremely uneasy as to the state of affairs;
that his orders are not respected like those of our former bugbear,
the deceased Cardinal, whose portrait you see here;—for whatever
may be thought of him, it must be allowed that Richelieu was a
great man."
" I shall not contradict you there," said D'Artagnan.
" My first impressions were favourable to the minister; but, as I
am very ignorant of those sort of things, and as the humility which
I profess obliges me not to rest on my own judgment, but to ask
the opinion of others, I have inquired—Eh ?—my friend "
Aramis paused.
" Well ?—what ?" asked his friend.
"Well—I must mortify myself. I must confess that I was mis-
taken; Monsieur de Mazarin is not a man of genius, as I thought:
he is a man of no origin—once a servant of Cardinal Bentivoglio,
and he got on by intrigue. He is an upstart, a man of no name,
who will only be the tool of a party in France. He will amass
wealth, he will injure the king's revenue, and pay to himself the
pensions which Richelieu paid to others. He is neither a gentle-
man in manner nor in feeling, but a sort of buffoon, a punchinello,
a pantaloon. Do you know him ?—I do not ?"
" Hem !" said D'Artagnan, " there is some truth in what you say,
—but you speak of him, not of his party, nor of his resources."
"It is true—the queen is for him."
—"Something in his favour."
"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; but 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
6o
TWENTY YEARS APTER.
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
have not your fruitful and vigorous imagination, the idea was
suggested to me. Every one nowadays wants auxiliaries; propo-
sitions have been made to me, and I confess to you frankly, that
the Coadjutor has made me speak out."
" The Prince de Conti! the Cardinal's enemy ?"
"No !—the king's friend."
"But the king is with Mazarin."
" He is, but not willingly—-in appearance, not heart; and that
is exactly the snare that the king's enemies prepare for a 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 Due de
Beaufort."
'"Monsieur de Beaufort ? He is at Vincennes."
" Did I name Monsieur de Beaufort ?" said Aramis.
" Monsieur de Beaufort or some one else. The prince, perhaps.
But Monsieur de Conti is going to be made a Cardinal."
" Are there not warlike Cardinals ?" said Aramis.
" Do you see any great advantage in adhering to this party ?"
asked D'Artagan.
"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, for her life? Should she forsake Mazarin she must join
her son, and go over to the prince's 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."
THE ABBE J? HE RELAY. 61
" 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 little
circle of holy abbds 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 philo-
sophy convinces me, on my honour. 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 pretty position for a poor Gascon.
Instead of running after adventures, I shall accept an invitation
from Porthos; 1 shall go and shoot on his estate. You know he
has estates,—Porthos T
" 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 Valon ?"
—" 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 be 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, lovers 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 passed."
"Nonsense! They will return," said D'Artagnan. "At all
events, if you want me, remember the Rue Ticquetonne, 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. Go
then, my friend," he added, " follow your career; Fortune smiles
63
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
on you; do not let her flee from you. As for me, I remain in my
humility and my indolence. Adieu !"
" Thus, 'tis quite decided," said D'Artagnan, " that what I have
to offer you does not suit you ?' }
" On the contrary, it would suit me were I like 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, subtle 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 close by the shed. D'Artagnan
jumped on his saddle, then the old companions in arms again
shook hands. D'Artagnan and Planchet spurred on their horses
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
that 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 road
side, and crossed the plain so as to wind round the village. He had
observed between the house that Madame de Longueville inhabited
and the convent of Jesuits, an open space surrounded by a hedge.
The moon had now risen, and he could see well enough to re-
trace 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 return there, 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.
THE ABBE LP HERB LA Y.
63
"Calm yourself, dear Ren£," said the soft voice, "the same
thing will never happen again. I have discovered a sort of sub-
terranean passage which runs under 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 1" answered another voice, which D'Artagnan soon recog-
nised as that of Aramis. "I swear to you, princess, that your
reputation does not depend on precautions, and that I would risk
my life rather than "
"Yes, yes ! I know you are 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! be sensible !"
" I always obey, madam, when I am commanded by so gentle a
voice."
He kissed her hand tenderly.
" Ah !" exclaimed the cavalier with the 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 advan-
tage 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 recognised the
large blue eyes, the golden hair, and the classic head of the
Duchesse de Longueville.
Aramis returned, laughing; one hat on his head, and the other
in his hand; and he and his companion resumed their walk towards
"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."
CHAPTER X.
monsieur porthos de valon de bracieux de pierrefonds.
Thanks to what Aramis had told him, D'Artagnan, who knew
already that Porthos called himself de Valon, 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.
At eight o'clock in the evening, he and Planchet again left the
hotel of the Chevrette, quitting Paris by the Porte Saint Denis.
64
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Their route lay through Daumartin—and then, taking one of
two roads that branched off—to Compiegne, when it was necessary
to inquire the situation of the estate of Bracieux.
They travelled always at night; and having learned at Villars-
Cotterets that Porthos was at the property which he had lately
bought, called Pierrefonds, they set out, taking the road which leads
from Villars-Cotterets to Compiegne.
The morning was beautiful; and in this early spring-time 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 travellers—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'Ar-
tagnan, 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
to 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 nothing.
At the extremity of the wood D'Artagnan perceived the road
which had been described to him; and at the end of thb 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 Due de Longueville ?"
—" Faith !" exclaimed Planchet, " here's land in good condi-
tion; if it belongs to Monsieur Porthos, I shall wish him joy."
" Zounds !" cried D'Artagnan, " don't call him Porthos, nor
even Valon : call him De Bracieux or De Pierrefonds; thou wilt
ruin 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 cloven 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 and others with thatch.
MONSIEUR PORTHOS DE UAL ON.
65
seemed to acknowledge as their sovereign lord a pretty chateau,
built about the beginning of the reign of Henry IV., and sur-
mounted by some stately weathercocks. D'Artagnan felt now no
doubt of this being the dwelling of Porthos.
The road led straight up to this chateau, which, compared to its
ancestor on the hill, was exactly what a fop of the coterie of the
Due d'Enghien would have been beside a knight in steel armour
in the time of Charles VI. 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 Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds ? Well-a-day! how he is
wrinkled since he has given up the name of Porthos !"
"This cannot be Monsieur Porthos," observed Planchet, reply-
ing, 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 towards the tall horse—to the man of im-
portance and his valets. As he approached he seemed to recognise
the features of this individual.
"Jesu!" cried Planchet, "can it be he?"
At this exclamation the man on horseback turned slowly, and
with a lofty air; and the two travellers could see, displayed in all
their brilliancy, the large eyes, the vermilion visage, and the elo-
quent smile of Mousqueton.
It was, indeed, Mousqueton—Mousqueton, as fat as a pig, rolling
about with rude health, puffed out with good living, who, recognis-
ing 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 towards
this new sun, which eclipsed the former luminary.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan! Monsieur d'Artagnan !" cried Mous-
queton, his fat cheeks swelling out, and his whole frame perspiring
with joy- " Monsieur d'Artagnan ! oh ! what joy for my lord and
master De Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds !"
5
66
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
." Thou good Mousqueton! where is thy master ?"
"You are on his property."
" But how handsome thou art—how fat! how thou'st prospered
and grown stout!" and D'Artagnan could not restrain his astonish-
ment at the change which good fortune had produced upon the
'once famished one.
" Hey ? yes, thank God, I am pretty well," said Mousoueton.
" But dost thou say nothing 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 towards an old friend ? never, Planchet! thou would'st
not have thought so hadst thou known Mousqueton well."
" So far so well," answered Planchet, alighting, and extending
his arms to Mousqueton, and 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 greatly 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 round his
friend's back, " now, sir, allow me to leave you, for I could not
permit my master to hear of your arrival from any one 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 melan-
choly smiles which seemed to come from the depth of his heart;
the last trace of youth and happiness which had survived disap-
pointment.
"And you—fellows," resumed Mousqueton, "stay near Mon-
sieur 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, in an easy 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
monsieur porthos dE Valon.
67
wears a holiday suit, 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 smell of 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'm 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."
CHAPTER XL
how d'artagnan, in discovering the retreat op porthos,
perceives that wealth 'does not 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; that, independent of
every selfish wish, his heart palpitated with joy when he saw that
tall form and martial demeanour, 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 circle at a respectful distance,
looked on with humble curiosity. Mousqueton, at the head of
them, wiped his eyes. Porthos put 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 ?"
" Forgot you ! oh ! dear De Valon, does one forget the happiest
days of one's youth—one's dearest friends—the dangers we have
dared together ? on the contrary, there is not an hour that we have
passed together that is not present to my memory."
" Yes, yes," said Porthos, trying to give to his moustache 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 some
thread to unravel."
And he heaved a sigh.
" Under any circumstances," he resumed, " you are welcome, my
dear friendyou will help me to recover my spirits; to-morrow
S—2
68
Twenty years aeter.
we will hunt the hare on my plain, which is a superb tract of land,
or we'll pursue the deer in my woods, which are magnificent. I
have four harriers, which are considered the swiftest in our county,
aqd a pack of hounds which are unequalled for twenty leagues
round."
And Porthos heaved another sigh.
" But first," interposed D'Artagnan, " you must present me to
Madame de Valon."
A third sigh from Porthos.
" I lost Madame de Valon two years ago," he said, " and you
find me still in affliction on that account. That was the reason
why I left my Chateau de Valon, near Corbeil, and came to my
estate, Bracieux. Poor Madame de Valon! her temper was
uncertain, but she came at last to accustom herself to my ways
and to understand my little wishes."
" So, you are free now—and rich ?"
" Alas !" replied 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 this." i
"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 flavour!" cried D'Artagnan; "ah! they are
fed on thyme only, your hares."
"And how do you like my wine?" asked Porthos; "it is plea-
sant, isn't it ?"
" Capital"
WEALTH DOES NOT PRODUCE HAPPINESS.
69
"It's 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 not happy, Porthos ? You, who have a chateau, meadows,
hills, woods—you who have forty thousand francs a-year—you not
happy ?"
" My dear friend all those things I have, but I am alone in the
midst of them."
"Surrounded, I suppose, only by clod-hoppers, 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 Charle-
magne, or at least to Plugh Capet. When I first came here, being
the last comer, it was to me to make the first advances. I made
them, but, you know, my dear friend, Madame de Valon "
Porthos, in pronouncing these words, seemed to gulp dGwn
something.
" Madame de Valon 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 un-
derstand 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 con-
nectiqns caniipt injure you."
70
TWENTY YEARS AFTER-
"Yes, but understand me; not being of a race of historic fame,
like the De Coucys, 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 cere-
monies, and I can say nothing to them. Ah ! if I were merely 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."
iPorthos gave a jump which shook all 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's 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, what I have to say relates to 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, a^d
there are as many fish in your pond as rabbits in your warren;
you're a happy man, my friend, since you have retained your love
of the chase, and 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 favourite dog, and I shoot rabbits."
" Really, how very amusing !"
" Yes," replied Porthos, with a sigh; " it A very amusing !"
D'Artagnan now no longer counted the sighs.
" 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 vour fat on the roadside,"
WEAL TH DOES NO T PRODUCE HAPPINESS. 71
" 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 had so many proofs."
" Ah ! my fist is strong enough, I swear," cried Porthos, extend-
ing 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, my 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. Rochefort has spoken
of you—and since, the queen—and, to inspire us with confidence,
she has even placed in Mazarin's hands that famous diamond—■
you know about it—that I had sold to Monsieur des Essarts, and
of which I don't know how she regained possession."
" But it seems to me," said Porthos, " that she would have' done
much better to give it back to you."
"So I think," replied D'Artagnan; "but kings and queens are
strange beings, and have odd fancies; nevertheless, since it is they
who have riches and honours, one is devoted to them."
" Yes, one is 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; for, notwithstanding your forty
thousand francs a-year, and, perhapS, even for the very reason that
you have forty thousand francs a-year, it seems to me that a little
coronet would do well on your carriage, hey ?"
" Yes, indeed," said Porthos.
" Well, my dear friend, win it—it is at the point of our swords.
We shall not interfere with each other—your object is a title;
mine, money. If I can get enough to rebuild Artagnan, which
my ancestors impoverished by the Crusades, allowed to fall into
ruins, and to buy thirty acres of land about it, it is all I wish. I
shall retire, and die tranquilly there."
" For my part," said Porthos, " I wish to be made a baron."
72
TV/ENTY YEARS AFTER.
" You shall be one. "
" And have you not seen any of our other friends ?"
"Yes; I have seen Aramis."
" And what does he wish ? To be a bishop ?"
"Aramis," answered D'Artagnan, who did not wish to undeceive
Porthos. "Aramis, fancy ! has become a monk and a Jesuit, and
lives like a bear. My offers could not rouse him."
" So much the worse ! He was a clever man—and Athos ?"
" I have not yet seen him. Do you know where I shall find him ?"
"Near Blois. He is called Bragelonne. Only imagine, my
dear friend. Athos, who was of as high birth as the Emperor, and
who inherits one estate which gives him the title of Comte, what
is he to do with all those dignities—Comte de la Fere, Comte de
Bragelonne ?"
" And he has no children with all these titles ?"
" Ah !" said Porthos, " I have heard that he had adopted a
young man who resembles him greatly."
" What, Athos ? Our Athos, who was as virtuous as Scipio ?
Have you seen him ?"
"No."
" Well, I shall see him to-morrow, and tell him about you; but
I am afraid, ' entre nous,' that his liking for wine'has aged and
degraded him."
" Yes, he used to drink a great deal," replied Porthos.
" And then he was older than any of us," added D'Artagnan.
" Some years only. His gravity made him look older."
" Well, .then, if we can get Athos, all will be well. If we can-
not, we will do without him. We two are worth a dozen."
" Yes," said Porthos, smiling at the remembrance of his former
exploits; " but we four, altogether, would be equal to thirty-six;
more especially as you say the work will not be easy. Will it last
long ?"
" By'r lady—two or three years, perhaps."
" So much the better," cried Porthos. " You have no idea, my
friend, how my bones ache since I came here. Sometimes, on a
Sunday, I take a ride in the fields, and on the property of my
neighbours, in order to pick up some nice little quarrel, which I
am really in want of, but nothing happens. Either they respect
or they fear me, which is more likely; but they let me trample
down the clover with my dogs, insult and obstruct every one, and
I come back still more weary and low-spirited—that's all. At any
rate, tell me—there's more chance of fighting at Paris, is there not ?"
" In that respect, my dear friend, it's delightful, No more
WEALTH DOES NOT PRODUCE HAPPINESS. 73
edicts, no more of the Cardinal's Guards, no more De Jussacs, nor
other bloodhounds. I'Gad ! underneath a lamp, in an inn, any-
where, they ask, ' Are you one of the Fronde ?' They unsheathe, and
that's all that is said. The Duke de Guise killed Monsieur de
Coligny in the Place Royale, and nothing was said of it."
"Ah, things go on well, then," said Porthos.
" Besides which, in a short time," resumed D'Artagnan, " we
shall have set battles, cannonades, conflagrations, and there will
be great variety."
" Well, then, I decide."
" I have your word, then ?"
" Yes, 'tis given. I shall fight heart and soul for Mazarin;
but "
" But!"
"But he must make me a baron."
" Zounds !" said D'Artagnan, " that's settled already. I answer
for your barony."
On this promise being given, Porthos, who had never doubted
his friend's assurance, turned back with him towards the castle.
CHAPTER XII.
IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IF PORTHOS WERE DISCONTENTED
WITH HIS CONDITION, MOUSQUETON WAS COMPLETELY SATIS-
FIED WITH HIS.
As they returned towards the castle, D'Artagnan thought of the
miseries of poor human nature, always dissatisfied with what it has,
always desirous of what it has not.
In the position of Porthos, D'Artagnan would have been per-
fectly happy; and, to make Porthos contented, there was wanting
—what ?—five letters to put before his three names, and a little
coronet to paint upon the panels of his carriage !
" I shall pass all my life," thought D'Artagnan, " in seeking for
a man who is really contented with his lot."
Whilst making this reflection, chance seemed, as it were, to give
him the lie direct. When Porthos had left him to give some
orders, he saw Mousqueton approaching. The face of the steward>
despite one slight shade of care, light as a summer cloud, seemed
one of perfect felicity.
" Here is what I am looking for," thought D'Artagnan ; " but
74
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
alas! the poor fellow does not know the purpose for which I am
here."
He then made a sign for Mousqueton to come to him.
"Sir," said the servant, "I have a favour to ask you."
"Speak out, my friend."
"I am afraid to do so. Perhaps' you will think, sir, that pro-
sperity has spoiled me ?"
" Art thou happy, friend ?" asked D'Artagnan.
" As happy as possible; and yet, sir, you may make me even
happier than I am."'
" Well, speak, if it depends on me."
" Oh, sir ! it depends on you only."
" I listen—I am waiting to hear."
" Sir, the favour I have to ask of you is, not to call me ' Mous-
queton,' but ' Mouston.' Since I have had the honour of being my
lord's steward, I have taken the last name as more dignified, and
calculated to make my inferiors respect me. You, sir, know how
necessary subordination is in an establishment of servants."
D'Artagnan smiled. Porthos lengthened out his names—Mous-
queton cut his short.
"Well, my dear Mouston," he said, "rest satisfied. I will call
thee Mouston; and, if it will make thee happy, I would not 'tutoyer'
you any longer."
"Oh !" cried Mousqueton, reddening with joy; "if you do me,
sir, such an honour, I shall be grateful all my life—'tis too much
to ask."
D'Artagnan was secretly touched with remorse—not.at inducing
Porthos to enter into schemes in which his life and fortune would
be in jeopardy—for Porthos, in the title of baron had his object
and reward; but poor Mousqueton, whose only wish was to be
called Mouston—was it not cruel to snatch him from the delightful
state of peace and plenty in which he was ?
He was thinking on these matters when Porthos summoned him
to dinner.
Whilst dessert was on the table the steward came in to consult
his master upon the proceedings of the next day, and also with
regard to the shooting party which had been proposed.
"Tell me, Mouston," said Porthos—"are my arms in good con-
dition ?"
"Your arms, my lord—what arms?"
"Zounds !—my weapons."
" What weapons ?"
"My military weapons."
PORTHOS DISCONTENTED, MOUSQ UETON SA T1SF1ED. 75
"Yes, my lord—I think so, at any rate."
" Make sure of it; and if they want it, have them rubbed up.
Which is my best cavalry horse ?"
" Vulcan."
" And the best hack ?"
" Bayard."
" What horse dost thou choose for thyself?"
" I like Rustand, my lord; a good animal, whose paces suit me."
" Strong, think'st thou ?"
" Half Norman, half Mecklenburger—will go night and day."
" That will do for us. See to these horses. Clean up, or make
some one else clean, my arms. Then take pistols with thee, and a
hunting-knife."
"Are we then going to travel, my lord?" asked Mousqueton,
rather uneasy.
"Something better still, Mouston."
" An expedition, sir ?" asked the steward, whose roses began to
change into lilies.
"We are going to return to the service, Mouston," replied
Porthos, still trying to restore his moustache to the military curl
that it had lost.
" Into the service—the king's service ?" Mousqueton trembled;
even his fat smooth cheeks shook as he spoke, and he looked at
D'Artagnan with an air of reproach; he staggered, and his voice
was almost choked.
"Yes and no. We shall serve in a campaign, seek out all sorts
of adventures; return, in short, to our former life."
These last words fell on Mousqueton like a thunderbolt. It was
these terrible former days which made the present so delightful;
and the blow was so great that he rushed out, overcome, and forgot
to shut the door.
The two friends remained alone to speak of the future, and to*
build castles in the air. The good wine which Mousqueton had
placed before them gave to D'Artagnan a perspective shining with
quadruples and pistoles, and showed to Porthos a blue ribbon and
a ducal mantle; they were, in fact, asleep on the table when the
servants came to beg them to go to bed.
Mousqueton was, however, a little consoled by D'Artagnan, who
the next day told him that in all probability war would always be
carried on in the heart of Paris, and within reach of the Chateau
de Valon, which was near Corbeil; of Bracieux, which was near
Melun; and of Pierrefonds, which was between Compiegne and
Villars-Cotterets.
76
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" But—formerly—it appears," began Mousqueton, timidly.
" Oh," said D'Artagnan, " we don't now make war as we did
formerly. To-day it's a sort of diplomatic arrangement; ask
Planchet."
Mousqueton inquired, therefore, the state of the case of his old
friend, who confirmed the statement of D'Artagnan. " But," he
added, "in this war prisoners stand a chance of being hung."
"The deuce they do !" said Mousqueton; "I think I should
like the siege of Rochelle better than this war then !"
Porthos, meantime, asked D'Artagnan to give him his instruc-
tions how to proceed on his journey.
" Four days," replied his friend, " are necessary to reach Blois;
one day to rest there; three or four days to return to Paris. Set
out, therefore, in a week, with your suite, and . go to the Hotel de
la Chevrette, Rue Tiquetonne, and wait for me there."
" That's agreed," said Porthos.
" As to myself, I shall go round to see Athos ; for though I
don't think his aid worth much, one must, with one's friends,
observe all due politeness," said D'Artagnan.
The friends then took leave of each other on the very border of
the estate of Pierrefonds, to which Porthos escorted his friend.
" At least," D'Artagnan said to himself, as he took the road to
Villars-Cotterets, " At least I shall not be alone in my undertaking.
That devil, Porthos, is a man of immense strength; still, if Athos
joins us, well—we shall be three of us to laugh at Aramis—that
little coxcomb with his good luck."
At Villars-Cotterets he wrote to the Cardinal:—
"My Lord,
I have already one man to offer to your eminence,
and he is well worth twenty men. I am just setting out for Blois.
The Comte de la Fere inhabits the castle of Bragelonne, in the
environs of that city."
CHAPTER XIII.
two angelic faces.
The road was long, but the horses upon which D'Artagnan and
Planchet rode had been refreshed in the well-supplied stables of
the Lord of Bracieux; the master and servant rode side by side,
conversing as they went, for D'Artagnan had, by degrees, thrown off
the master, and Planchet had entirely ceased to assume the manners
TWO ANGELIC FA CES.
11
of a servant. He had been raised by circumstances to the rank of
a confidant to his master. It was many years since D'Artagnah
had opened his heart to any one ; it happened, however, that these
two men, on meeting again, assimilated perfectly. Planchet was,
in truth, no vulgar companion in these new adventures ; he was a
'man of good sense. Without seeking danger, he never shrank
from an attack; in short, he had been a soldier, and arms ennoble
a man ; it was, therefore, on the footing of friends, that D'Artagnan
and Planchet arrived in the neighbourhood of Blois.
Going along, D'Artagnan, shaking his head, said :
" I know that my going to Athos is useless and absurd; but 1
owe this step to my old friend, a man who had in him materials for
the most noble and generous of characters."
" Oh, Monsieur Athos was a noble gentleman," said Planchet,
" was he not ? Scattering money about him as Heaven scatters
hail. Do you remember, sir, that duel with the Englishman in the
inclosure Des Carmes ? Ah ! how lofty, how magnificent Monsieur
Athos was that day, when he said to his adversary, ' You have
insisted on knowing my name, sir; so much the worse for you,
since I shall be obliged to kill you.' I was near him, those were
his exact words; when he stabbed his foe as he said he would,
and his adversary fell without saying, Oh ! 'Tis a noble gentleman
—Monsieur Athos."
" Yes, true as Gospel," said D'Artagnan, " but one single fault
has swallowed up all these fine qualities."
" I remember well," said Planchet—" he was fond of drinking—
in truth he drank, but not as other men did. One seemed, as he
raised the wine to his lips, to hear him say, ' Come, juice of the
grape, and chase away my sorrows.' And how he used to break
the stem of a glass, or the neck of a bottle ! There was no one
like him for that."
" And now," replied D'Artagnan, " behold the sad spectacle
that awaits us. This noble gentleman, with his lofty glance, this
handsome cavalier, so brilliant in feats of arms, that every one was
surprised that he held in his hand a sword only instead of a baton
of command ! Alas ! we shall find him changed into a bent-down
old man, with red nose, and eyes that water; we shall find him
extended on some lawn, whence he will look at us with a languid
eye, and, perhaps, not recognise us. God knows, Planchet, that I
should fly from a sight so sad, if I did not wish to show my respect
for the illustrious shadow of what was once the Comte de la Fkre,
whom we loved so much."
Planchet shook his head and said nothing.
78
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" And then," resumed D'Artagnan, " to this decrepitude is pro-
bably added poverty—for he must have neglected the little that
he had, and the dirty scoundrel, Grimaud, more taciturn than ever,
and still more drunken than his master—stay, Planchet, all this
breaks my heart to think of."
■ "I fancy myself there, and that I see him staggering and hear
him stammering," said Planchet, in a piteous tone, " but at all
events, we shall soon know the real state of things, for I think those
lofty walls, reddened by the setting sun, are the walls of Blois."
" Probably; and yon steeples, pointed and sculptured, that we
catch a glimpse of yonder, are like what I have heard described of
Chambord."
At this moment one of those heavy waggons, drawn by bullocks,
which carry the wood cut in the fine forests of the country to the
ports of the Loire, came out of a bye-road full of ruts, and turned
on that which the two horsemen were following. A man carrying
a long switch with a nail at the end of it, with which he urged on
his slow team, was walking with the cart.
"Ho! friend," cried Planchet.
" What's your pleasure, gentlemen ?" replied the peasant, with a
purity of accent peculiar to the people of that district, and which
might have put to shame the polished dwellers near the Sorbonne
and the Rue de l'Universite.
" We are looking for the house of Monsieur de la Fere," said
D'Artagnan.
The peasant took off his hat on hearing this revered name.
" Gentlemen," he said, " the wood that I am carting is his—I
cut it in his copse, and am taking it to the chateau."
D'Artagnan determined not to question this man; he did not
wish to hear from another what he had himself said to Planchet.
"The chateau," he said to himself; "what chateau? Ah, I
understand : Athos is not a man to be thwarted; he has obliged
his peasantry, as Porthos has done his, to call him ' my lord,' and
to call his paltry place a chateau. He had a heavy hand—that
dear Athos—after drinking."
D'Artagnan, after asking the man the right way, continued his
route, agitated, in spite of himself, at the idea of seeing once more
that singular man whom he had so truly loved, and who had con-
tributed so much by his advice and example to his education as a
gentleman. He slackened the pace of his horse, and went on, his
head drooping as if in deep thought.
Soon as the road turned, the Chateau de la Valliere appeared in
view, then, a quarter of a mile further, a white house, encircled in
TWO ANGELIC FACES.
19
sycamores, was visible at the further end of a group of trees, which
spring had powdered with a snow of flowers.
On beholding this house, D'Artagnan, calm as he was in general,
felt an unusual disturbance within his heart—so powerful during
the whole course of his life were the recollections of his youth.
He proceeded, nevertheless, and came opposite to an iron gate,
ornamented in the taste which marked the works of that period.
Through the gate were seen kitchen-gardens, carefully attended
to, a spacious court-yard, in which neighed several horses held by
valets in various liveries, and a carriage drawn by two horses of the
country.
" We are mistaken," said D'Artagnan; " this cannot be the
house of Athos. Good heavens ! suppose he is dead, and that
this property now belongs to some one who bears his name.
Alight, Planchet, and inquire, for I confess I have not courage to
do so."
Planchet alighted.
" Thou must add," said D'Artagnan, " that a gentleman who is
passing by wishes to have the honour of paying his respects to the
Comte de la Fere, and if thou art satisfied with what thou hearest,
then mention my name !"
Planchet obeyed these instructions. An old servant opened the
door and took in the message which D'Artagnan had ordered
Planchet to deliver, in case that his servant was satisfied that this
was the Comte de la Fbre whom they sought. Whilst Planchet
was standing on the steps before the house he heard a voice say:
" Well, where is this gentleman, and why do they not bring him
here?"
This voice—the sound of which reached D'Artagnan—re-
awakened in his heart a thousand sentiments, a thousand remem-
brances that he had forgotten. He sprang hastily from his horse,
while Planchet, with a smile on his lips, was advancing towards the
master of the house.
- " But I know him—I know the lad yonder," said Athos, appear-
ing on the threshold.
" Oh, yes—Monsieur le Comte, you know me, and I know you.
I am Planchet—Planchet, whom you know well." But the honest
servant could say no more, so much was he overcome by this un-
expected interview.
" What, Planchet, is Monsieur D'Artagnan here ?"
" Here I am, my friend, dear Athos ?" cried D'Artagnan in a
faltering voice, and almost staggering from agitation.
At these words a visible emotion was expressed on the beautiful
TIVENTY YEARS AFTER.
countenance and calm features of Athos. He rushed towards
D'Artagnan, with his eyes fixed upon him, and clasped him in his
arms. D'Artagnan, equally moved, pressed him also closely to
him, while tears stood in his eyes. Athos then took him by the
hand and led him into the drawing-room, where there were
several people. Every one rose.
"I present to you," he said, "Monsieur le Chevalier D'Ar-
tagnan, lieutenant of His Majesty's Musketeers, a devoted friend,
and one of the most excellent and brave gentlemen that I have
bver known."
D'Artagnan received the compliments of those who were present
in his own way; and whilst the conversation became general, he
looked earnestly at Athos.
Strange ! Athos was scarcely aged at all ! His fine eyes, no
longer surrounded by that dark line which nights of dissipation
draw round them, seemed larger and more liquid than ever. His
face, a little elongated, had gained in calm dignity what it had
lost in feverish excitement. His hand, always wonderfully beau-
tiful and strong, was set off by a ruffle of lace, like certain hands
by Titian and Vandyck. He'was less stiff than formerly. His long
dark hair, scattered here and there with gray locks, fell elegantly
over his shoulders with a wavy curl; his voice was still youthful,
as if at only twenty-five years old; and his magnificent teeth,
which he had preserved white and sound, gave an indescribable
charm to his smile.
Meanwhile, the guests, seeing that the two friends were longing
to be alone, prepared to depart, when a noise of dogs barking
resounded through the court-yard, and many persons said, at the
same moment:
"Ah! 'tis Raoul who is come home."
Athos, as the name of Raoul was pronounced, looked inquisi-
tively at D'Artagnan, in order to see if any curiosity was painted
on his face. But D'Artagnan was still in confusion, and turned
round almost mechanically, when a fine young man of fifteen years
of age, dressed simply, but in perfect taste, entered the room,
raising, as he came, his hat, adorned with a long plume of red
feathers.
Nevertheless, D'Artagnan was struck by the appearance of this
new personage. It seemed to explain to him the change in Athos;
a resemblance between the boy and the man explained the mystery
of this regenerated existence. He remained listening and gazing.
" Here you are, home again, Raoul," said the Comte.
" Yes, sir," replied the youth, with deep respect, " and I have
performed the commission that vou gave me."
TWO'ANGELIC FACES.
81
But what's the matter, Raoul ?" said Athos, very anxiously.
" You are pale and agitated."
" Sir," replied the young man ; " it is on account of an accident
which has happened to our little neighbour."
"To Mademoiselle de la Valliere ?" asked Athos, quickly.
" What is it ?" asked many persons present.
" She was walking with her nurse Marceline, in the place where
the^woodmen cut the wood, when, passing on horseback, I stopped.
She saw me also, and in trying to jump from the end of a pile
of wood on which she had mounted, the poor child fell, and was
not able to rise again. She has, I fear, sprained her ankle."
" Oh, Heavens !" cried Athos. " And her mother, Madame de
Saint-Remy, have they told her of it ?"
"No, sir; Madame de Saint-Remy is at Blois, with the Duchess
of Orleans. I am afraid that what was first done was unskilful
and useless. I am come, sir, to ask your advice."
" Send directly to Blois, Raoul; or rather take your horse, and
ride there yourself."
Raoul bowed.
" But where is Louisa ?" asked the Comte.
" I have brought her here, sir, and I have deposited her in the
charge of Charlotte, who, till better advice comes, has put the foot
into iced water."
The guests now all took leave of Athos, excepting the old Duke
de Barbe, who, as an old friend of the family of La Valliere, went
to see little Louisa, and offered to take her to Blois in his carriage.
" You are right, sir," said Athos. " She will be better with her
mother. As for you, Raoul, I am sure it is your fault; some
giddiness or folly."
"No, sir, I assure you," muttered Raoul, "it is not."
" Oh, no, no, I declare it is not!" cried the young girl, while
Raoul turned pale at the idea of his being, perhaps, the cause of
her disaster.
" Nevertheless, Raoul, you must go to Blois, and you must make
your excuses and mine to Madame de Saint-Remy."
The youth looked pleased. He again took in his strong arms
the little girl, whose pretty golden head and smiling face rested on
his shoulder, and placed her gently in the carriage ; then, jumping
on his horse with the elegance and agility of a first-rate esquire,
after bowing to Athos and D'Artagnan, he went off close by the
door of the carriage, in the inside of which his eyes were inces-
santly riveted.
6
82
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER XIV.
the castle of bragelonne.
While this scene was going on, D'Artagnan remained with open
mouth and a confused gaze. Everything had turned out so differ-
ently to what he expected, that he was stupefied with wonder.
Athos, who had been observing him and guessing his thoughts,
took his arm, and led him into the garden.
" Whilst supper is being prepared," he said, smiling, " you will
not, my friend, be sorry to have the mystery which so puzzles you
cleared up."
"True, Monsieur le Comte," replied D'Artagnan, who felt that
by degrees Athos was resuming that great influence which aris-
tocracy had over him.
Athos smiled.
" First and foremost, dear D'Artagnan, we have no title such as
Count here. When I call you ' chevalier,' it is in presenting you
-to my guests, that they may know who you are. But to you,
D'Artagnan, I am, I hope, still dear Athos, your comrade, your
friend. Do you intend to be ceremonious because you are less
attached to me than you were ?"
" Oh ! God forbid !"
" Then let us be as we used to be; let us be open to each other.
You are surprised at what you see here ?"
" Extremely."
" But above all things, I am a marvel to you ?"
"I confess it."
" I am still young, am I not ? Should you not have known me
again, in spite of my eight-and-forty years of age ?"
" On the contrary, I do not find you the same person at all."
" Ah, I understand," cried Athos, with a slight blush. " Every-
thing, D'Artagnan, even folly, has its limit."
" Then your means, it appears, are improved; you have a capital
house, your own, I presume ? You have a park, horses, servants."
Athos smiled.
" Yes; I inherited this little property when I quitted the army,
as I told you. The park is twenty acres—twenty, comprising
kitchen gardens and a common. I have two horses—I don't
count my servant's short-tailed nag. My sporting dogs consist of
two pointers, two harriers, and two setters. And then all this
extravagance is not for myself," added Athos, laughing.
THE CASTLE OF BRAGELONNE.
83
" Yes, I see, for the young man Raoul," said D'Artagnan. •
" You guess right, my friend; this youth is an orphan, deserted
by his mother, who left him in the house of a poor country priest.
I have brought him up. It is he who has worked in me the change
you see : I was dried up like a miserable tree, isolated, attached
to nothing on earth; it was only a deep affection which could
make me take root again, and bind me to life. This child has
caused me to recover what I had lost. I had no longer any wish
to live for myself. I have lived for him. I have corrected the
vices that I had. I have assumed the virtues that I had not.
■Precept is much, example is more. I may be mistaken, but I
believe that Raoul will be as accomplished a gentleman as our
degenerate age could display."
The remembrance of my lady recurred to D'Artagnan.
" And you are happy?" he said to his friend.
" As happy as it is allowed to one of God's creatures to be on
this earth; but say out all you think, D'Artagnan, for you have not
done so."
" You are too bad, Athos; one can hide nothing from you,"
answered D'Artagnan. " I wished to ask you if you ever feel any
emotions of terror resembling "
" Remorse ! I finish your phrase—yes and no. I do not feel
remorse, because that woman, I believe, deserved her punishment.
I do not feel remorse, because, had we allowed her to live, she
would have persisted in her work of destruction. But I do not
mean, my friend, that we were right in what we did. Perhaps all
blood that is shed demands an expiation. Hers has been accom-
plished; it remains, possibly, for us to accomplish ours."
" I have sometimes thought as you do, Athos."
" She had a son. that unhappy woman ?"
"Yes."
" Have you ever heard of him ?"
"Never."
" He must be about twenty-three years of age," said Athos, in
a low tone. " I often think of that young man, D'Artagnan."
" Strange ! for I had forgotten him," said the lieutenant.
Athos smiled—the smile was melancholy.
"And Lord de Winter—do you know anything about him?"
" I know that he is in high favour with Charles I."
" The fortunes of that monarch are now at a low ebb. He shed
the blood of Strafford : that confirms what I said just now—
blood will have blood : and the queen ?"
(( Henrietta of England is at the Louvre ?"
6—2
84
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Yes, and I hear in the greatest poverty. Her daughter,
during the bitterest cold, was obliged, for want of fire, to remain
in bed. Why did she not ask from any one of us a home instead
of from Mazarin ? She should have wanted for nothing."
" Have you ever seen the Queen of England ?" inquired D'Ar-
tagnan.
"No, but my mother, as a child, saw her. My mother was
maid of honour to Marie de Medici."
At this instant they heard the sound of horses' feet.
" 'Tis Raoul, who is come back," said Athos; " and we can
now hear how the poor child is. Well," he added, " I hope the
accident has been of no consequence ?"
" They don't yet know, sir, on account of the swelling; but
the doctor is afraid some muscle may be injured."
At this moment a little boy, half-peasant, half-footboy, came to
announce supper.
Athos led his guest into a dining-room of moderate size, the
Avindows of which opened on one side oh a garden—on the other
on a hothouse, full of magnificent flowers.
D'Artagnan glanced at the dinner-service. The plate was mag-'
nificent, old, and belonging to the family. D'Artagnan stopped
to look at a sideboard, on which was a superb ewer of silver.
" That workmanship is divine !" he exclaimed.
" Yes, a chef-d'oeuvre of the great Florentine sculptor, Benvenuto
Cellini," replied Athos.
" What battle does it represent ?"
" That of Marignan, just at the point where one of my fore-
fathers is offering his sword to Francis I., who had broken his.
It was on that occasion that my ancestor, Emguerrand de la Fere
was made a Knight of the Order of St. Michael; "besides which
the king, fifteen years afterwards, gave him also this ewer, and a
sword which you may have seen formerly in- my house, also-a
beautiful specimen of workmanship. Men were giants in those
times," said Athos; " now we are pigmies in comparison. Let
.us sit down to supper. Call Charles," he added, addressing the
boy who waited.
" My good Charles, I particularly recommend to your care
.Planchet, the 4 laquais' of Monsieur D'Artagnan. He likes good
-wine; now you have the key of the cellar—he has slept a long
time-on a hard bed, so he won't object to a soft one—take care
of him, I beg of you." Charles bowed and retired.
" You think of everything," said D'Artagnan; " and I thank
you for Planchet, my dear Athos."
the castle of bragelonne.
h
Raoul stared on hearing this name, and looked at the count
to be quite sure that it was he whom the lieutenant thus addressed.
"That name sounds strange to you," said Athos, smiling; "it
was my ' nom de guerre,' when Monsieur D'Artagnan, two other
gallant friends, and myself performed some feats of arms at the
siege of La Rochelle, under the deceased Cardinal and Monsieur
de Bassompierre. My friend is still so kind as to address me by
that old and dear appellation, which makes my heart glad when I
hear it."
" 'Tis an illustrious name," said the lieutenant, " and had one
day triumphal honours paid to it."
" What do you mean, sir ?" inquired Raoul.
" You have not forgotten Saint Gervais, Athos, and the napkin
which was converted into a bannerand he then related to Raoul
the story of the bastion, and Raoul fancied he was listening to
one of those deeds of arms belonging to days of chivalry, and re-
counted by Tasso and Ariosto.
" D'Artagnan does not tell you, Raoul," said Athos, in his turn,
" that he was reckoned one of the best swordsmen of his time—a
knuckle of iron, a wrist of steel, a sure eye, and a glance of fire—
that's what his adversary met with from him. He was eighteen,
only three years older than you are, Raoul, when I saw him at this
work—pitted against tried men."
" And was Monsieur D'Artagnan the conqueror ?" said the
young man, with glistening eyes.
" I killed one man, I believe," replied D'Artagnan, with a look
of inquiry directed to Athos ; " another I disarmed, or wounded.
I don't remember which "
" Wounded," said Athos ; " oh ! you were a strong one."
The young man would willingly have prolonged this conversation
all night, but Athos pointed out to him that his guest must need
repose. D'Artagnan would fain have declared that he was not
fatigued; but Athos insisted on his retiring to his chamber, con-
ducted thither by Raoul.
CHAPTER XV.
athos as a diplomatist.
D'Artagnan retired to bed—not to sleep, but to think over all that
he had heard that evening. As he was good-hearted, and had once
had for Athos a liking, which had grown into a sincere friendship,
86
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
he was delighted at thus meeting a man full of intelligence and
of moral strength, instead of a wretched drunkard. He admitted,
without annoyance, the continued superiority of Athos over him-
self, devoid as he was of that jealousy which might have saddened
a less generous disposition : he was delighted also that the high
qualities of Athos appeared to promise favourably for his mission.
Nevertheless, it seemed to him that Athos was not, in all respects,
Sincere and frank. Who was the youth whom he had adopted,
and who bore so great a resemblance to him? What-could
explain Athos' having re-entered the world, and the extreme sobriety
which he had observed at table ? The absence of Guimaud, whose
name had never once been uttered by Athos, gave D'Artagnan un-
easiness. It was evident either that he no longer possessed the
confidence of his friend, or that Athos was bound by some invisible
chain, or that he had been forewarned of the lieutenant's visit.
He could not help thinking of M. Rochefort, whom he had
seen in Notre Dame;—could De Rochefort have preceded him
with Athos? Again, the moderate fortune which Athos possessed,
concealed, as it was, so skilfully, seemed to show a regard for ap-
pearances, and to betray a latent ambition, which might be easily
aroused. The clear and vigorous intellect of Athos would render
him more open to conviction than a less able man would be. He
would enter into the minister's schemes with the more ardour,
because his natural activity would be doubled by a dose of
necessity.
Resolved to seek an explanation on all these points on the fol-
lowing day, D'Artagnan, in spite of his fatigue, prepared for an
attack, and determined that it should take place after breakfast.
He determined to cultivate the good will of the youth Raoul, and,
either whilst fencing with him, or in shooting, to extract from his
simplicity some information which would connect the Athos of old
times with the Athos of the present. But D'Artagnan, at the same
time, being a man of extreme caution, was quite aware what injury
he should do himself, if, by any indiscretion or awkwardness,
he should betray his manoeuvring to the experienced eye of Athos.
Besides, to say the truth, whilst D'Artagnan was quite disposed to
adopt a subtle course against the cunning of Aramis, or the vanity
of Porthos, he was ashamed to equivocate with Athos, the true-
hearted, open Athos. It seemed to him that if Porthos and
Aramis deemed him superior to them in the arts of diplomacy,
they would like him all the better for it, but that Athos, on the
contrary, would despise him.
" Ah ! why is not Guimaud, the taciturn Guimaud, here ?" thought
ATHOS AS A DIPLOMATIST.
8?
D'Artagnan; " there are things which his silence would have shown
me—his silence was eloquence !"
There was now a perfect stillness in the house. D'Artagnan
nad heard the doors shut, and the shutters barred; then the dogs
became, in their turn, silent. At last, a nightingale, lost in a
thicket of shrubs, had dropped off in the midst of its most melo-
dious cadences, and fallen asleep. Not a single sound was heard
in the castle, except that of a footstep, up and down in the chamber
above,—as he supposed, the bed-room of Athos.
"Hi is walking about, and thinking," thought D'Artagnan, "but
of whit? It is impossible to know; everything else might be
guessel, but not that."
At length Athos went to bed, apparently, for the noise ceased.
Silerce, and fatigue together, overcame D'Artagnan, and sleep,
overtook him also. He was not, however, a good sleeper. Scarcely
had tawn gilded his window-curtains, than he sprang out of bed,
and epened the windows. Somebody, he 'perceived, was in the
courtyard, but moving stealthily. True to his custom of never
passing anything over that it was within his power to know, D'Ar-
tagnar looked out of window, and perceived the close red coat and
brownhair of Raoul.
Theyoung man was opening the door of the stable. He then,
with niseless haste, took out the horse that he had ridden on the
previoB evening, saddled and bridled it himself, and led the
animal.nto the alley to the right of the kitchen-garden, opened a
side-dor which conducted him to a bridle-road, shut it after him,
and D'utagnan saw him pass by like a dart, bending, as he went,
beneatlpendant flowery branches of the maple-trees and acacias.
The rod, as D'Artagnan had observed, was the way to Blois.
"So' thought theuGascon, "here's a young blade who has al-
ready Is love affair, who doesn't at all agree with Athos in his
hatred 1 the fair sex. He's not going to hunt, for he has neither
dogs ncarms; he's not going on a message, for he goes secretly.
Why do he go in secret ? Is he afraid of me, or of his father ? for
I am sit the count is his father. By Jove ! I shall know about
that soc, for I shall speak out to Athos."
Day is now advanced : all the noises that had ceased the night
before tre re-awakened, one after the other. The bird in the
branche the dog in his kennel,, the sheep in the field, the boats
which we m®ored in the Loire, even, seemed to be animated, and,
leaving te shore, to abandon themselves to the current of the
stream. The Gascon gave a last twist to his moustache, a last
turn to b hair, brushed, from habit, the brim of his hat with the
88
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
sleeve of his doublet, and went downstairs. Scarcely had he
descended the last step of the threshold than he saw Athos, bent
down towards the ground, as if he were looking for a crown-piece
in the dust.
" Good morning, my dear host," cried D'Artagnan.
" Good day to you; have you slept well ?"
" Excellently well, Athos; but what are you looking for ? yoil
are, perhaps, a tulip fancier ?" ;
" My dear friend, if I were, you should not laugh at me forpeing
so. In the country, people alter; one gets to like, without krpwing
it, all those beautiful objects that God causes to spring frcm the
bottom of the earth, and which are despised in cities, jl was
looking anxiously for some iris roots which I planted here close
to this reservoir, and which some one has trampled upoti this
morning. These gardeners are the most careless people in the
world : in bringing the horse out of the water, they've allowedjhim
to walk over the border."
D'Artagnan began to smile.
" Ah ! you think so, do you ?"
And he took his friend along the alley, where a numcr of
tracks, like those which had trampled down the flower-bedsjwere
visible. I
" Here are the horse's hoofs again, it seems, Athos," hj said
carelessly. •
" Yes, indeed; the marks are recent."
"Quite so," replied the lieutenant. ,
" Who went out this morning ?" Athos asked uneasily, r Has
any horse got loose from the stable !" j
" Not likely," answered the Gascon ; " these marks are r^ular."
" Where is Raoul ?" asked Athos; " how is it that I hab not
seen him ?"
"Hush?" exclaimed D'Artagnan, putting his finger on Is lips;
and he related what he had seen, watching Athos all the wile.
" Ah ! he's gone to Blois ; the poor boy "
" To do what ?"
" Ah! to inquire after little La Valliere; she has spraild her
foot, you know."
" You think he is ?"
"I am sure of it," said Athos; "don't you see that Rail is in
love?"
" Indeed ! with whom ? with a child of seven years old
" Dear friend, at Raoul's age the heart is so ardent that must
expand towards some object or another, fancied or real; ell, his
ATHOS AS A DIPLOMATIST.
89
love is half one—half the other. She is the prettiest little creature
in the world, with flaxen hair, blue eyes—at once saucy and lan-
guishing."
" But what say you to Raoul's fancy ?"
"Nothing; I laugh at Raoul; but this first desire of the heart
is imperious. I remember, just at his age, how in love I was with
a Grecian statue, which our good king, then Henry IV., gave my
father, insomuch that I was mad with grief when they told me
that the story of Pygmalion was nothing but a fable."
"Tis want of occupation; you do not make Raoul work, so he
takes his own way pf employing himself."
" Exactly so; therefore I think of sending him away from this
place."
"You will be wise to do so."
" No doubt of it; but it will break his heart. So long as three
or four years ago, he used to adorn and adore his little idol, whom
he will some day fall in love with in good earnest, if he remains
here. The parents of little La Valliere have for a long time per-
ceived, and been amused at it; but now they begin to look grave
about it."
"Nonsense ! however, Raoul must be diverted from this fancy;
send him away, or you will never make a man of him."
" I think I shall send him to Paris."
" So!" thought D'Artagnan; and it seemed to him that the
moment for attack had arrived.
" Suppose," he said, " we chalk out a career for this young man.
I want to consult you about something."
" Do so."
" Do you think it is time to enter into the service ?"
" But are you not still in the service ? you—D'Artagnan ?"
" I mean into active service. Our former life—has it still no
attractions for you ? should you not be happy to begin anew in
my society, and in that of Porthos, the exploits of our youth ?"
" Do you propose to me to do so, D'Artagnan ?"
"Decidedly and honestly."
"On whose side?" asked Athos, fixing his clear benevolent
glance on the countenance of the Gascon.
" Ah ! devil take it, you speak in earnest "
" And must have a definite answer. Listen, D'Artagnan. There
is but one person—or rather, one cause—to whom a man like me
can be useful—that of the king."
" Exactly," answered the Musketeer.
"Yes, but let us understand each other," returned Athos, seri-
96
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
ously. " If by the cause of the king you mean that of Monsieur
de Mazarin, we do not understand each other."
" I don't say, exactly," answered the Gascon, confused.
" Come, D'Artagnan, don't let us play a cunning game; your
hesitation, your evasion, tell me at once on whose side you are;
for that party no one dares openly to recruit, and when people
recruit for it, it is with a downcast head and low voice."
" Ah ! my dear 4thos !"
"You know that I am not alluding to you; you are the pearl of
brave and bold men. I speak of that spiteful and intriguing
Italian—of the pedant who has tried to put on his own . head a
crown which he stole from under a pillow—of the scoundrel who
calls his party the party of the king—who wants to send the princes
of the blood to prison, not daring to kill them, as our great Car-
dinal—our Cardinal did—of the miser who weighs his gold pieces,
and keeps the clipped ones for fear, though he is rich, of losing
them at play next morning—of the impudent fellow who insults
the queen, as they say—so much the worse for her—and who is
going, in three months, to make war upon us, in order that he may
retain his pensions—is that the master whom you propose to me ?
Thanks, D'Artagnan."
"You are more impetuous than you were," returned D'Artagnan.
" Age has warmed, not chilled, your blood. Who told you that
that was the master I proposed to'you? Devil take it," he mut-
tered to himself, " don't let me betray my secrets to a man not
inclined to receive them well."
"Well, then," said Athos, "what are your schemes? what do
you propose ?"
" Zounds! nothing can be more natural; you live on your
estate, happy in your golden mediocrity. Porthos has, perhaps,
sixty thousand francs income. Aramis has always fifty duchesses
who are quarrelling for the priest, as they quarrelled formerly for
the musketeer; but I—what have I in the world ? I have worn
my cuirass for these twenty years, kept down in this inferior rank,
without going forwarder or backwarder, without living. In fact, I
am dead. Well! when there is some idea of being resuscitated—
you say he's a scoundrel—an impudent fellow—a miser—a bad
master! By Jove! I'm of your opinion; but find me a better
one, or give me the means of living."
Athos was, for a few moments, thoughtful.
" Good ! D'Artagnan is for Mazarin," he said to himself.
Prom that moment he became very guarded.
On his side D'Artagnan was ^nore,cautious also.
ATHOS AS A DIPLOMATIST.
91
" You spoke to me," Athos resumed, " of Porthos; have you
persuaded him to seek his fortune ? but he has wealth, I believe,
already ?"
"Doubtless he has; but such is man, that he always wants
something."
" What does Porthos wish for ?"
"To be a baron."
" Ah! true ! I forgot," said Athos, laughing.
" 'Tis true !" thought the Gascon, " where has he heard it ? Does
he correspond with Aramis ? Ah ! if I knew that he did, I should
know all."
The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Raoul.
" Is our little neighbour worse ?" asked Athos, seeing a look of
vexation on the face of the youth.
" Ah, sir !" replied Raoul, " her fall is a very serious one ; and
without any apparent injury, the physician fears that she will be
lame for life."
" That is terrible," said Athos,
" And what makes me wretched, sir, is that I am the cause of
this misfortune."
" There's only one remedy, dear Raoul—that is, to marry her as
a compensation," remarked D'Artagnan.
"Ah, sir !" answered Raoul, "you joke about a real misfortune;
that is cruel, indeed."
The good understanding between the two friends was not in the
least altered by the morning's skirmish. They breakfasted with a
good appetite, looking now and then at poor Raoul, who, with
moist eyes and a full heart, scarcely ate at all.
After breakfast two letters arrived for Athos, who read them with
deep Attention; whilst D'Artagnan could not restrain himself from
jumping up several times, on seeing him read these epistles, in one
of which, having a very strong light, he perceived the fine writing
of Aramis. The other was in a feminine hand, long and crossed.
"Come," said D'Artagnan to Raoul—seeing that Athos wished
to be alone—" come, let us take a turn in the fencing-gallery, that
will amuse you."
And they both went into a low room, where there were foils,
gloves, masques, breast-plates, and all the accessories for a fencing
match.
In a quarter of an hour Athos joined them; and, at the same
moment, Charles brought in a letter for D'Artagnan, which a mes-
senger had just desired might be instantly delivered.
It was now the turn of Athos to take a sly look.
92
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
D'Artagnan read the letter with apparent calmness, and said,
shaking his head,—
" See, dear friend, what the army is; my faith, you are, indeed,
right not to return to it. Monsieur de TrCville is ill—so my com-
pany can't do without me; there ! my leave is at an end!"
" Do you go back to Paris ?" asked Athos, quickly.
" Egad ! yes; but why don't you come there also ?"
Athos coloured a little, and answered,—
" Should I go, I shall be delighted to. see you there."
" Hallo, Planchet!" cried the Gascon from the door, " we must!
set out in ten minutes; give the horses some hay."
Then turning to Athos, he added—
" I seem to miss something here. I am really sorry to go away
without having seen Grimaud."
" Grimaud !" replied Athos. " I'm surprised you have never
asked after him. I have lent .him to a friend "
" Who will understand the signs he makes," returned D'Artagnan.
"I hope so."
The friends embraced cordially; D'Artagnan pressed Raoul's
hand.
" Will you not come with me ?" he said; " I shall pass by Blois."
Raoul turned towards Athos, who showed him by a secret sign
that he did not wish him to go.
"Adieu, then, to both, my good friends," said D'Artagnan;
" may God preserve you ! as we used to say when we said good-
bye to each other in the late Cardinal's time."
Athos waved his hand, Raoul bowed, and D'Artagnan and
planchet set out.
The count followed them with his eyes—his hands resting on
the shoulders of the youth, whose height was almost equal to his
own; but, as soon as they were out of sight, he said,—
" Raoul—we set out to-night for Paris."
" How !" cried the young man, turning pale
" You may go and offer your adieux and mine to Madame de
Saint-Remy. I shall wait for you here till seven."
The young man bent low, with an expression of sorrow and
gratitude mingled, and retired, in order to saddle his horse.
As to D'Artagnan, scarcely, on his side, was he out of sight,
than he drew from his pocket a letter, which he read over again.
" Return immediately to Paris.—T. M."
" The epistle is laconic," said D'Artagnan ; " and if there had
not been a postscript, probably I should not have understood it;
but, happily, there is a postscript."
ATHOS AS A DIPLOMATIST.
93
And he read that famous postscript, which made him forget the
abruptness of the letter.
" P.S. Go to the king's treasurer at Blois ; tell him your name,
and show him this letter, you will receive two hundred pistoles."
" Assuredly," said D'Artagnan; " I like this piece of prose, and
the Cardinal writes better than I thought. Come, Planchet, let
us pay a visit to the king's treasurer, and then set off."
" Towards Paris, sir ?"
" Towards Paris."
And both set out on as hard a trot as their horses could go.
CHAPTER XVI.
the duc de beaufort.
The circumstances which had hastened the return of D'Artagnan
to Paris were the following :—•
One evening, when Mazarin, according to custom, went to visit
the queen, in passing the guard-chamber he heard loud voices
there; wishing to know on what the soldiers were conversing, he
approached, with his wonted stealthy and wolf-like step—pushed
open the door, and put his head close to the chink.
There was a dispute among the guards.
" I tell you," one of them was saying, " that if Coysel predicted
that, 'tis as good as true; I know nothing about it, but I've heard
say that he's not only an astrologer, but a magician."
" Deuce take it, friend—if he's one of thy friends, thou wilt
ruin him in saying so."
"Why?"
"Because he may be tried for it."
"Ah! absurd ! they don't burn sorcerers nowadays."
" No ? 'Tis not a' long time since the late Cardinal burnt Urban
Grandier though."
" My friend Urban Grandier wasn't a sorcerer; he was a learned
man. He didn't predict the future; he knew the past—often a
much worse thing."
Mazarin nodded an assent; but wishing to know what the pre-
diction was about which they disputed, he remained in the same
place.
" I don't say," resumed the guard, " that Coysel is not a sorcerer
—but I say that if his prophecy gets wind, it's a sure way to
prevent its coming true,"
94
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"How so?"
"Why, in this way—if Coysel says, loud enough for the Cardinal
to hear him, on such or such a day such a prisoner will escape,
'tis plain that the Cardinal will take measures of precaution, and
that the prisoner will not escape."
" Good Lord !" said another guard, who appeared asleep on a
bench, but who had not lost a syllable of the conversation, " do
you suppose that men can escape their destiny ? If it is written
yonder, in heaven, that the Due de Beaufort is to escape, he will
escape; and all the precautions of the Cardinal will not hinder it."
Mazarin started. He was an Italian, and therefore superstitious.
He walked straight into the midst of the guards, who, on seeing
him, were silent.
" What were you saying ?" he asked, with his flattering manner,
"that Monsieur de Beaufort had escaped—did you not ?"'
" Oh, no, my lord !" said the incredulous soldier. " He's well
guarded now; we said, only, that he would escape."
" Who said so ?"
" Repeat your story, Saint Laurent," replied the man, turning to
the originator of the tale.
" My lord," said the guard, " I have simply mentioned the pro-
phecy that I heard from a man named Coysel, who believes that
be he ever so closely guarded, the Duke of Beaufort will escape
before Whitsuntide."
" Coysel is a madman !" returned the Cardinal.
"No," replied the soldier, tenacious in his credulity; "he has
foretold many things which have come to pass—for instance, that
the queen would have a son; that Monsieur de Coligny would be
killed in a duel with the Due de Guise; and finally, that the Coad-
jutor would be made Cardinal. Well! the queen has not only one
son, but two; then, Monsieur de Coligny was killed, and "
"Yes," said Mazarin; "but the Coadjutor is not yet made a
Cardinal!"
"No, my lord—but he will be," answered the guard.
Mazarin made a grimace, as if he meant to say—" But he does
not yet wear the Cardinal's cap;" then he added :
" So, my friend, it's your opinion that Monsieur de Beaufort
will escape ?"
" That's my idea, my lord; and if your Eminence were to offer
to make me at this moment governor of the castle of Vincennes,
I should refuse it. After Whitsuntide it would be another thing."
There is nothing so convincing as a firm conviction. It has an
effect upon the most incredulous; and, far from being incredulous,
THE DUC DE BEAUFORT.
95
Mazarin was superstitious. He went away thoughtful and anxious,
and returned to his own room, where he summoned Bernouin, and
desired him to fetch there the next morning the special guard
whom he had placed near Monsieur de Beaufort, and to awaken
him whenever he should arrive on the following morning.
The guard had, in fact, touched the Cardinal in the tenderest
point. During the whole five years in which the Due de Beaufort
had been in prison, not a day had passed in which the Cardinal
had not felt a secret dread of his escape. It was not possible, as
he knew well, to confine for the whole of his life the grandson of
Henry IV., especially when this young prince was scarcely thirty
years of age. But, however and whensoever he did escape,
what hatred he must have cherished against him to whom he
owed his long imprisonment; who had taken him rich, brave,
glorious, beloved by women, feared by men, to cast off from his
life its happiest years; for it is not existence, it is merely life, in
prison. Meantime, Mazarin redoubled the surveillance over the
duke. But, like the miser in the fable, he could not sleep near
his treasure. Often he awoke in the night, suddenly, dreaming
that he had been robbed of Monsieur de Beaufort. Then he
inquired about him, and had the vexation of hearing that the
prisoner played, drank, sang—but that \yhilst playing, drinking,
singing, he often stopped short, to vow that Mazarin should pay
dear for all the amusements which he had forced him to enter
into at Vincennes.
So much did this one idea haunt the Cardinal, even in his
sleep, that when, at seven in the morning, Bernouin came to
arouse him, his first words were :—" Well—what's the matter ?
Has Monsieur de Beaufort escaped from Vincennes ?"
" I do not think so, my lord," said Bernouin; " but you will
hear about him, for La Rame'e is here, and awaits the commands of
your Eminence."
" Tell him to come in," said Mazarin, arranging his pillows, so that
he might receive him sitting, in bed.
The officer entered—a large fat man, with a good physiognomy.
His air of perfect serenity made Mazarin uneasy.
"Approach, sir," said the Cardinal.
The officer obeyed.
" Do you know what they are saying here ?"
"No, your Eminence."
" Well, they say that Monsieur de Beaufort is going to escape from
Vincennes, if he has not done so already."
The officer's face expressed complete stupefaction. He opened,
96
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
at once his great eyes and his little mouth, to inhale better the joke
that his Eminence deigned to address to him, and ended by a burst
of laughter, so violent, that his great limbs shook in his hilarity as
they would have done in a fever.
" Escape ! my lord—escape ! Your Eminence does not then
know where Monsieur de Beaufort is ?"
"Yes, I do, sir; in the donjon of Vincennes."
" Yes, sir; in a room, the walls of which are. seven feet thick, with
grated windows, each bar being as thick as my arm."
"Sir," replied Mazarin, "with perseverance one may penetrate
through a wall—with a watch-spring one may saw through an iron
bar."
" Then my lord does not know that there are eight guards about
him—four in his chamber, four in the ante-chamber—and they never
leave him."
" But he leaves the room, he plays at tennis at the Mall ?"
" Sir, those amusements are allowed; but if your Eminence wishes
it, we will discontinue the permission."
"No, no," cried Mazarin, fearing that should his prisoner ever
leave his prison he would be the more exasperated against him, if
he thus retrenched his amusements,—he then asked with whom he
played.
. " My lord—either with the officers of the guard, with the other
prisoners, or with me."
"Hum;" said the Cardinal, beginning to feel more comfortable.
" You mean to say, then, my dear Monsieur la Ramee "
"That unless Monsieur de Beaufort can contrive to metamorphose
himself into a little-bird, I answer for him."
"Take care—you assert a great deal," said Mazarin. "M. de
Beaufort told the guards who took him to Vincennes, that he had
often thought what he should do in case he were put into prison,
and that he had found out forty ways of escaping."
" My lord—if among these forty there had been one good way,
he would have been out long ago."
" Come, come ; not such a fool as I fancied !" thought Mazarin.
" But when you leave him, for instance ?"
" Oh! when I leave him! I have, in my stead, a bold fellow
who aspires to be His Majesty's special guard. I promise you, he
keeps a good watch over the prisoner. During the three weeks
that he has been with me, I have only had to reproach him with one
thing—being too severe with the prisoners."
" And who is this Cerberus ?"
"A certain Monsieur Grimaud, my lord."
the duc de beaufort:
91
" And what was he before he went to Vincennes ?"
" He was in the country, as I was told by the person who recom-
mended him to me."
" And who recommended this man to you ?"
"The steward of the Duc de Grammont."
" He is not a gossip, I hope ?"
" Lord a-mercy, my lord ! I thought for a long time that he was
dumb; he answers only by signs. It seems his former master ac-
customed him to that. The fact is, I fancy he got into some trouble,
in the country from his stupidity, and that he wouldn't be sorry in
the royal livery to find impunity."
"Well, dear Monsieur la Ramee," replied the Cardinal, "let him
prove a firm and faithful keeper, and we will shut our eyes upon his
rural misdeeds, and put on his back a uniform to make him re-
spectable, and in the pockets of that uniform some pistoles to drink
to the king's health."
Mazarin was large in his promises—quite different to the virtuous
Monsieur Grimaud, so be-praised by La Rame'e; for he said no-
thing, and did much.
It was now nine o'clock. The Cardinal, therefore, got up, per-
fumed himself, dressed, and went to the queen to tell her what had
detained him. The queen, who was scarcely more afraid of Mon-
sieur de Beaufort than she was of the Cardinal himself, and who
was almost as superstitious as he was, made him repeat word for
word all La Ramee's praises of his deputy. Then, when the Car-
dinal had ended,—
" Alas ! sir ! why have we not a Grimaud near every prince ?"
" Patience !" replied Mazarin, with his Italian smile; " that
may happen one day; but in the meantime——"
" Well! in the meantime ?"
" I shall take precautions."
And he wrote to D'Artagnan to hasten his return.
CHAPTER XVII.
describes how the duc de beaufort amused his leisure
hours in the donjon of vincennes.
The captive, who was the source of so much alarm to the Cardinal,
and whose means of escape disturbed the repose of the whole
court, was wholly unconscious of the terrors which he caused in
the Palais Royal.
7
98
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
He had found himself so strictly guarded, that he soon perceived
the fruitlessness of any attempt at escape. His vengeance, there-
fore, consisted in uttering curses on the head of Mazarin ; he even
tried to make' some verses on him, but soon gave up the attempt.
For Monsieur de Beaufort had not only not received from Heaven
the gift of versifying, but he had even the greatest possible diffi-
culty in expressing himself in prose.
The duke was the grandson of Henry IV. and of Gabrielle
d'Estrees—as good-natured, as brave, as proud, and, above all, as
Gascon as his ancestor, but less educated. 'After having been for
some time, after the death of Louis XIII., the favourite, the con-
fidant, the first man in short, at the court, he had been obliged to
yield his place to Mazarin, and he became the second in influence
and favour; and, eventually, as he was stupid enough to be vexed
at this change of position, the queen had had him arrested, and
sent to Vincennes, in charge of Guitant, who made his appearance
in these pages in the beginning of this history, and whom we shall
see again. By the queen, means by Mazarin. •
During the five years of his, seclusion, which would have im-
proved and matured the intellect of any other man, M. de Beaufort,
had he not affected to brave the Cardinal, to despise princes,
and to walk alone, without adherents or disciples, would either
have regained his liberty, or made partisans. But these considera-
tions never occurred to the duke, and every day the Cardinal re-
ceived fresh accounts of him, which were as unpleasant^as possible
to the minister.
After having failed in poetry, Monsieur de Beaufort tried draw-
, ing. He drew portraits with a piece of coal, of the Cardinal; and
as his talents did not enable him to produce a very good likeness,
he wrote under the picture, that there might be no doubt of the
original—" Portrait of the Illustrious Coxcomb Mazarin." Mon-
sieur de Chavigny, the governor of Vincennes, waited^ upon the
duke, to request that he would amuse himself in some other way,
or, that, at all events, if he drew likenesses, he would not put
mottoes to them. The next day the prisoner's room was full of
pictures and of mottoes. Monsieur de Beaufort, in common with
many other prisoners, was bent upon doing things which were pro-
hibited; and the only resource which the governor had was, one
day when the duke was playing at tennis, to efface all these draw-
ings, consisting chiefly of profiles. M. de Beaufort did not venture
to draw the Cardinal's fat face.
The duke thanked Monsieur de Chavigny for having, as he
said, cleaned his drawing-paper for him ; he then divided the walls
HO W THE DUC DE BEA UFORT AMUSED HIS LEISURE.
99
of his room into compartments, and dedicated each of these com-
partments to some incident in Mazarin's life. In one was depicted
the " Illustrious Coxcomb" receiving a shower of blows from
Cardinal Bentivoglio, whose servant he had been; another the
" Illustrious Mazarin," acting the part of Ignatius Loyola in a
tragedy of that name ; a third, the " Illustrious Mazarin" stealing
the portfolio of prime minister from Monsieur de Chavigny, who
had expected to have it; a fourth, the " Illustrious Coxcomb
Mazarin" refusing to give Laporte, the young king's valet, clean
sheets; and saying that it was quite enough for the king of France
to have sheets every three months.
The governor, of course, thought proper to threaten his prisoner
that if he did not give up drawing such pictures, he should be
obliged to deprive him of all means of amusing himself in that
manner. To this Monsieur de Beaufort replied, that since every
opportunity of distinguishing himself in arms was taken from him, he
wished to make himself celebrated in the fine arts ; since he could
not be a Bayard, he would become a Raphael, or a Michael Angelo.
Nevertheless, one day when Monsieur de Beaufort was walking in
the meadow, his fire was put out; his coal taken away, and all
means of drawing completely destroyed.
The poor duke swore, fell into a rage, yelled, and declared that
they wished to starve him to death, as they had starved the Mare-
chal Ornano, and the Grand Prior of Vendome; but he refused
to promise that he would not make any more drawings, and re-
mained without any fire In the room all the winter. .
His next act was to purchase a dog from one of his keepers.
With this animal, which he called Pistache, he was often shut up
for hours alone, superintending, as every one supposed, its educa-
tion. At last, when Pistache was sufficiently well trained, Monsieur
de Beaufort invited the governors and officers of Vincennes to
attend a representation which he was going to have in his apart-
ment.
The party assembled; the room was lighted with wax-lights,
and the prisoner, with a bit of plaster he had taken out of the
wall of his room, had traced a long white line, representing a cord,
on the floor. Pistache, on a signal from his master, placed him-
self on this line, raised himself on his hind paws, and holding in
his front paws a wand with which clothes used to be beaten, he
began to dance upon the line with as many contortions as a rope-
dancer. Having been several times up and down it, he gave the
wand back to his master, and began, without hesitation, to perform
the same revolutions over again.
7—2
100
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
The intelligent creature was received with loud applause.
The first part of the entertainment being concluded, Pistache
was desired to say what o'clock it was ; he was shown Monsieur
de Chavigny's watch; it was then half-past six. The dog raised
and dropped his paw six times; the seventh he let it remain up-
' raised. Nothing could be better done ; a sun-dial could not have
shown the hour with greater precision.
Then the question was put to him who was the best gaoler in
all the prisons of France ?
The dog performed three evolutions round the circle, and laid
himself, with the deepest respect, at the feet of Monsieur de
Chavigny, who at first seemed inclined to like the joke, and
laughed loud; but a frown soon succeeded, and he bit his lips
with vexation.
Then the duke put to Pistache this difficult question : who was
the greatest thief in the world ?
Pistache went again the round of the circle, but stopped at no
one; and, at last, went to the door, and began to scratch and
bark.
" See, gentlemen," said M. de Beaufort, " this wonderful animal,
not finding here what I asked for, seeks it out of doors ; you shall,
however, have his answer, Pistache, my friend, come here. Is
not the greatest thief in the world, Monsieur (the king's secretary)
La Camus, who came to Paris with twenty francs in his pocket,
and who now possesses six millions ?"
The dog shook his head.
"Then is it not," resumed the duke, "the Superintendent
Emery, who gave his son, when he was married, three hundred
thousand francs and a house, compared to which the Tuileries are
a heap of ruins and the Louvre a paltry building ?"
The dog again shook his head, as if to say "no."
"Then," said the prisoner, "let's think who it can be. Can it
be, can it possibly be, the illustrious coxcomb, Mazarin de Pis-
cina, hey?"
Pistache made violent signs that it was, by raising and lowering
his head eight or ten times successively.
" Gentlemen, you see," said the duke to those present, who
dared not even smile, "that it is the 'illustrious coxcomb' who is
the greatest thief in the world; at least, according to Pistache."
" Let us go on to another of his exercises.
" Gentlemen !"—there was a profound silence in the room when
the duke again addressed them—"do you not remember that the
Puc de Guise taught all the dogs in Paris to jump for Mademoi-
Hd w The d uc de be a veoe t aMused his leisure . foi
selle de Pons, whom he styled c the fairest of the fair ?' Pistache
is going to show you how superior he is to all other dogs. Mon-
sieur de Chavigny, be so good as to lend me your cane. Now
Pistache, my dear, jump the height of this cane for Madame
Montbazon."
The dog found no difficulty in it, and jumped joyfully for
Madame de Montbazon.
" But," interposed M. de Chavigny, " it seems to me that Pis-
tache is only doing what other dogs have done when they jumped
for Mademoiselle de Pons.
"Stop," said the duke; " Pistache, jump for the queen." And
he raised his cane six inches higher.
'The dog sprang, and in spite of the height, jumped lightly
over it.
" And now," said the duke, raising it still six inches higher,
"jump for the king."
The dog obeyed, and jumped quickly over the cane.
"Now, then," said the duke, and as he spoke, lowered the cane
almost level with the ground ; " Pistache, my friend, jump for the
illustrious coxcomb, Mazarin de Piscina."
The dog turned his back to the cane.
"What," asked the duke, "what do you mean?" and he gave
him the cane again, first making a semicircle from the head to the
tail of Pistache. "Jump, then, Monsieur Pistache."
But Pistache, as at first, turned round on his legs, and stood with
his back to the cane.
Monsieur de Beaufort made the experiment a third time : but
this time Pistache rushed furiously on the cane and broke it with
his teeth.
Monsieur de Beaufort took the pieces out of his mouth, and
presented them with great formality to Monsieur de Chavigny,
saying that for that evening the entertainment was ended, but in
three months it should be repeated, when Pistache would have
learned some new tricks.
Three days afterwards Pistache was poisoned.
Then the duke said openly that his dog had been killed by a drug
with which they meant to poison him; and one day after dinner,
he went to bed, calling out that he had pains in the stomach, and
that Mazarin had poisoned him.
This fresh impertinence reached the ears .of the Cardinal, and
alarmed him much. The donjon of Yincennes was considered very
unhealthy, and Madame de Rambouillet had said that the room in
which the Marechal Ornano and the Grand Prior de Vendome had
102
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
died was worth its weight in arsenic—a bon-mot which had great sue-
cess. So the prisoner was henceforth to eat nothing that was not
previously tasted, and La Ramee was, in consequence, placed near
him as tastep
Every kind of revenge was practised upon the duke by the gover-
nor, in return for the insults of the innocent Pistache. De Cha-
vigny, who, according to report, was a son of Richelieu's, and had
been a creature of the late Cardinal's, understood tyranny. He
took from the duke all the steel'knives and silver forks, and re-
placed them with silver knives and wooden forks, pretending that,
as he had been informed that the duke was to pass all his life at
Vincennes, he was afraid of his prisoner's attempting suicide. A
fortnight afterwards the duke, going to the tennis court, found two
rows of trees about the size of his little finger planted by the road-
side; he asked what they were for, and was told that they were to
shade him from the sun on some future day. Ofie morning the
gardener went to him and told him, as if to please him, that he was
going to plant a bed of asparagus for his use. Now, as every one
knows, asparagus takes four years in coming to perfection, this
civility infuriated Monsieur de Beaufort.
At last his patience was exhausted. He assembled his keepers,
and, notwithstanding his well-known difficulty of utterance, ad-
dressed them as follows :
" Gentlemen ! will you permit a grandson of Henry IV. to he
overwhelmed with insults and ignominy ? Odds fish ! as my grand-
father used to say—I once reigned in Paris; do you know that ?
I had the king and monsieur the whole of one day in my care.
The queen at that time liked me, and called me the most honest
man in the kingdom. Gentlemen and citizens, set me free; I shall
go to the Louvre, and strangle Mazarin. You shall be my body-
guard. I will make you all captains, with good pensions ! Odds
fish!—on—march forward !"
But, eloquent as he might be, the eloquence of the grandson of
Henry IV. did not touch those hearts of stone; not one man stirred,
so Monsieur de Beaufort was obliged to be satisfied with calling
them rascals, and cruel foes.
Sometimes, when Monsieur de Chavigny paid him a visit, the
duke used to ask him what he should think if he saw an army of
Parisians, all fully armed, appear at Vincennes to deliver him from
prison.
" My lord," answered De Chavigny, tfuth a low bow, " I have on
the ramparts twenty pieces of artillery^ and in my casemates thirty
thousand guns. I should cannonade the troops as well as I could."
now THE EUC DE BEA UFORT AMUSED HIS LEISURE. 103
" Yes—but after you had fired off your thirty thousand guns,
they would take the donjon; the donjon being taken, I should be
obliged to let them hang you—for which I should be very unhappy,
certainly."
And, in his turn, the duke bowed low to Monsieur de Chavigny.
" For myself, on the other hand, my lord, "returned the governor,
" the first rebel that should pass the threshold of my postern doors,
I should be obliged to kill you with my own hand, since you were
confided peculiarly to my care, and as J am obliged to give you up
—dead or alive."
And he bowed low again to his highness.
These bitter and sweet pleasantries lasted ten minutes, or some-
times longer; but always finished thus :
Monsieur de Chavigny, turning towards the door, used to call
out:
" Hallo ! La Ramee !"
La Ramee came into the room.
" La Ramee, I recommend Monsieur le Due to you, particu-
larly; treat him as a man of his rank and family ought to be
treated; therefore never leave him alone an instant."
La Ramee became therefore the duke's dinner guest, by com-
pulsion—his eternal keeper—the shadow of his person; but La
Ramee—gay, frank, convivial, fond of play, a great hand at tennis
■—had one defect in the duke's eyes—he was incorruptible.
One may be a jailer or a keeper, and at the same time a good
father and husband. La Ramee adored his wife and children,
whom now he could only catch a glimpse of from the top of the
wall, when, in order to please him, they used to walk on the
opposite side of the moat. 'Twas too brief an enjoyment, and
La Ramee felt that the gaiety of heart which he had regarded as
the cause of that .health (of which it was, perhaps, rather the result)
would not long survive such a mode of life.
He accepted, therefore, with delight, an offer made to him by
his friend the steward of the Due de Grammont, to give him a
substitute; he also spoke of it to Monsieur de Chavigny, who
promised that he would not oppose it in any way—that is, if he
approved of the person proposed.
We consider it as useless to draw a physical or moral portrait of
Grimaud: if—as we hope—our readers have not wholly forgotten
the first part of this work, they must have preserved a clear idea
of that estimable individual—who is wholly unchanged—except
that he is twenty years older, an advance in life that has made
him only more silent; although, since the alteration that had been
104
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
working in himself, Athos had given Grimaud permission to
speak.
But Grimaud had for twelve or fifteen years preserved an
habitual silence, and a habit of fifteen or twenty years' duration
becomes a second nature.
CHAPTER XVIII.
grimaud begins his functions.
Grimaud thereupon presented himself with his smooth exterior
at the donjon of Vincennes. Now Monsieur de Chavigny piqued
himself on his infallible penetration ; for that which almost proved
that he was the son of Richelieu was his everlasting pretension;
he examined attentively the countenance of the applicant for
place, and fancied that the contracted eyebrows, thin lips, hooked
nose, and prominent cheek-bones of Grimaud, were favourable
signs. He addressed about twelve words to him; Grimaud
answered in four.
"There's a promising fellow, and I have found out his merits,"
said Monsieur de Chavigny. " Go," he added, "and make yourself
agreeable to Monsieur la Ramee, and tell him that you suit me in
all respects."
Grimaud had every quality which could attract a man on duty
who wishes to have a deputy. So, after a thousand questions
which met with only a word in reply, La Ramee, fascinated by
this sobriety in speech, rubbed his hands, and engaged Grimaud.
" My orders ?" asked Grimaud.
" They are these : never to leave the prisoner alone; to keep
away from him every sharp or piercing instrument—and to prevent
his conversing any length of time with the keepers."
" Those are all ?" asked Grimaud.
"All, now," replied La Ramee.
"Good," answered Grimaud; and he went right to the prisoner.
The duke was in the act of combing his beard, which he had
allowed to grow as well as his hair, in order to reproach Mazarin
with his wretched appearance and condition. But having, some
days previously, seen from the top of the donjon, Madame de
Montbazon pass in her carriage, and still cherishing an affection
for that beautiful woman, he did not wish to be to her what he
wished to be to Mazarin; and, in the hope of seeing her again,
had asked for a leaden comb, which was allowed him. The comb
was to be a leaden one, because his beard, like that of most fair
GRIM A UD BEGINS HIS FUNCTIONS.
165
people, was rather red; he therefore dyed it when he combed it
out
As Grimaud entered he saw this comb on the tea-table; he took
it up, and, as he took it, he made a low bow.
The duke looked at this strange figure with surprise. The
figure put the comb in its pocket.
" Ho !—hey! what's that ?" cried the duke, " and who is this
creature ?"
Grimaud did not answer, but bowed a second time.
" Art thou dumb ?" cried the duke.
Grimaud made a sign that he was not.
-i "What art thou, then ? Answer! I command thee!" said the
duke."
" A keeper," replied Grimaud.
" A keeper !" reiterated the duke; " there was nothing wanting
in my collection except this gallows-bird. Hallo ! La Ramee !
•—some one !"
La Ramee ran in haste to obey the call. :
" Who is this wretch who takes my comb and puts it in his
pocket ?" asked the duke.
" One of your guards, my prince—a man full of talent and
merit—whom you will like, as I and Monsieur de Chavigny do, I
am sure."
" Why does he take my comb ?"
"Why do you take my lord's comb?" asked'La Ramee.
Grimaud drew the comb from his pocket, and passing his fingers
over the largest teeth, pronounced this one word—"Piercing."
" True," said La Ramee.
" What does the animal say ?" asked the duke.
" That the king has forbidden your lordship to have any
piercing instrument."
"Are you mad, La Ramee?—you yourself gave me this comb."
" I was very wrong, my lord ; for in giving it to you I acted in
opposition to my orders." The duke looked furiously at Grimaud.
" I perceive that that creature will become odious to me," he
muttered.
Grimaud, nevertheless, was resolved, for certain reasons, not at
once to come to a full rupture with the prisoner; he wanted to
inspire, not a sudden repugnance, but a good, and sound, and
steady hatred; he retired, therefore, and gave place to four guards
who, having breakfasted, could attend on the prisoner.
A fresh practical joke had now occurred to the duke. He had
asked for craw-fish for his breakfast on the following morning: he
TV/ENTY YEARS AFTER.
intended to pass the day in making a small gallows, and hang one
of the finest of these fish in the middle of his room—the red
colours evidently conveying an allusion to the Cardinal—so that
he might have the pleasure of hanging Mazarin in effigy, without
being accused of having hung anything except a craw-fish.
The day was employed in preparations for the execution.
Everyone grows childish in prison; but the character of Monsieur
de Beaufort was particularly disposed to become so. In the course
of his morning's walk he collected two or three small branches from
a tree, and found a small piece of broken glass, a discovery which
delighted him. When he came home he formed his handkerchief
into a loop.
Nothing of all this escaped Grimaud, but La Ramee looked on
with the curiosity of a father who thinks that he may perhaps get
an idea of a new toy for his children; the guards regarded it all
with indifference. When everything was ready—the gallows hung
in the middle of the room—the loop made—and when the duke
had cast a glance upon the plate of craw-fish, in order to select the
finest specimen among them, he looked round for his piece of glass
•^it had disappeared.
" Who has taken my piece of glass ?" asked the duke, frowning.
Grimaud made a sign to denote that he had done so.
" How ! thou, again ! Why didst thou take it ?"
" Yes—why ?" asked La Rame'e.
Grimaud, who held the piece of glass in his hand, said :
"Sharp."
" True, my lord !" exclaimed La Rame'e. " Ah! deuce take it!
we have got a precious lad."
"Monsieur Grimaud !" said the duke, "for your sake, I beg of
you, never come within the reach of my fist!"
" Hush ! hush !" cried La Rame'e, " give me your gibbet, my
lord, I will shape it out for you with my knife."
And he took the gibbet and shaped it out as neatly as possible.
"That's it," said the duke; "now make me a little hole in the
floor whilst I go and fetch the culprit."
La Ramee knelt down and made a hole in the floor; meanwhile
the duke hung the craw-fish up by a thread. Then he placed' the
gibbet in the middle of the room, bursting with laughter.
La Rame'e laughed also, and the guards laughed in chorus;
Grimaud," however, did not even smile. He approached La
Ramde, and showing him the craw-fish, hung up by the thread,—
" Cardinal!"—he said.
" Hung by his Highness the Due de Beaufort!" cried the prisoner,
GRIMAUD BEGINS HIS FUNCTIONS.
laughing violently, " and by Master Jacques Chrysostom La Ramee?
the king's commissioner."
La. Ramee uttered a cry of horror, and rushed towards the gibbet,
which he broke at once, and threw the pieces out of the window,
He was going to throw the craw-fish out also, when Grimaud
snatched it from his hands.
" Good to eat!" he said; and he put it into his pocket.
This scene so enchanted the duke that, at the moment, he for
gave Grimaud for his part in it; but on reflection, he hated him
more and more, being convinced that he had some bad motive for
his conduct.
The prisoner happened to remark among the guards one man,
with a very good countenance; and he favoured this man the more
as Grimaud became the more and more odious to him. One
morning he took this man on one side and had succeeded in
speaking to him, when Grimaud entered, saw what was going
on, approached the duke respectfully, but took the guard by the
arm.
" Go away," he said.
The guard obeyed.
" You are insupportable," cried the duke : " I shall beat you."
Grimaud bowed.
" I shall break every bone in your body," cried the duke.
GrimaucJ bowed, and stepped back.
"Mr. Spy," cried the duke, more and more enraged, "I shall
strangle you with my own hands." (
And he extended his hands towards Grimaud, who merely
thrust the guard out, and shut the door behind him. At the same
time he felt the duke's arms on his shoulders, like two iron claws ;
but instead either of calling out or defending himself, he placed his
forefinger on his lips, and said in a low tone :
" Hush !"—smiling as he uttered the word.
A gesture, a smile, and a word from Grimaud, all at once, were
so unusual, that his highness stopped short, astounded.
Grimaud took advantage of that instant to draw from his vest a
charming little note, with an aristocratic seal, and presented it to
the duke without a word.
The duke, more and more bewildered, let Grimaud loose, and
took the note.
•—" From Madame de Montbazon !" he cried.
Grimaud nodded assent.
The duke tore open the note, passed his hands over his eyes, for
he was dazzled and confused, and read :
twenty years after:
"My dear Duke,
"You may entirely confide on the brave lad who
will give you this note; he has consented to enter into the service
of your keeper, and to shut himself up at Vincennes with you, in
order to prepare and assist your escape, which we are contriving.
The moment of your deliverance is at hand; have patience and
courage, and remember that, in spite of time and absence, all your
friends continue to cherish for you the sentiments that they have
professed.
" Yours wholly, and most affectionately,
"Marie de Montbazon."
"P.S. I sign my full name, for I. should be vain if I could sup-
pose that after five years of absence you would remember my initials."
The poor duke became perfectly giddy. What for five years
he had been wanting,—a faithful servant—a friend—a helping
hand—seemed to have fallen from heaven just when he expected
it the least.
" Oh, dearest Marie ! she thinks of me, then, after five years of
separation ! Heavens ! there is constancy!" Then turning to
Grimaud, he said:
"And thou, my brave fellow, thou consent esc then to aid me?"
Grimaud signified his assent.
" What then shall we do ? how proceed ?"
" It is now eleven," answered Grimaud. " Let my lord at two
o'clock ask leave to make up a game at tennis, with La Rame'e, and
let him send two or three balls over the ramparts."
" And then ?"
"Your highness will approach the walls and call out to a man
who works in the moat to send them back again."
" I understand," said the duke.
Grimaud made a sign that he was going away.
" Ah!" cried the duke, "will you not accept any money from me?"
" I wish my lord would make me one promise."
"What? speak!"
" 'Tis this—when we escape .together,' that I shall go every-
where, and be always first; for if my lord should be overtaken and
caught, there's every, chance of his being brought back to prison,
whereas, if I'm caught, the least that can befall me—is to be hung."
" True; on my honour as a gentleman, it shall be as thou dost
suggest."
"Now," resumed Grimaud, "I've only one thing more to ask,
that your highness will continue to detest me."
GRIMAUD BEGINS HIS FUNCTIONS.
u I shall try," said the duke.
At this moment La Ramee, after the interview which we have
described with the Cardinal, entered the room. The duke had
thrown himself—as he was wont to do in moments of dulness
and vexation—on his bed. La Ramee cast an inquiring look
around him.
" Well, my lord," said La Ramee, with his rude laugh; " you
still set yourself against this poor fellow ?"
" So 'tis you, La Ramee; in faith 'tis time you came back
again. I threw myself on the bed, and turned my nose to
the wall that I mightn't break my promise and strangle Grimaud.
I feel stupid beyond everything to-day."
" Then let us have a match in the tennis court," exclaimed La
Ramee.
" If you wish it."
"I am at your service, my lord."
" I protest, my dear La Ramee," said the duke, " that you are a
charming person, and that I would stay for ever at Vincennes, to
have the pleasure of your society."
" My lord," replied La Ramee, " I think if it depended on the
Cardinal, your wishes would be fulfilled."
"How?"
" He sent for me to-day; in short, my lord, you are his night-
mare."
The duke smiled with bitterness.
" Ah, La Ramee ! if you would but accept my offers ! I would
make your fortune."
"How? you would no sooner have left prison than your goods
would be confiscated."
" I shall no sooner be put of prison than I shall be master of
Paris."
" Pshaw ! pshaw ! I cannot hear such things said as that; I see,
my lord, I shall be obliged to fetch Grimaud."
"Well, then, let us go and have a game at tennis, La Ramee."
" My lord—I beg your highness's pardon—but I must beg for
half an hour's leave of absence."
"Why?"
"Because Monseigneur Mazarin is a prouder man than your
highness, though not of such high birth: he forgot to ask me to
breakfast."
" Well, shall I send for some breakfast here ?"
"No, my lord; I must tell you that the confectioner who lived
opposite the Castle—Father Marteau,. as they called him "
iio
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Well?"
" Well, he sold his business a week ago to a confectioner from
Paris—an invalid, ordered country air for his health."
" Well, what have I to do with that ?"
" Why, good lord! this man, your highness, when he saw me
stop before his shop, where he has a display of things which would
make your mouth water, my lord, asked me to get him the custom
of the prisoners in the donjon. ' I bought,' says he, 'the business
of my predecessor, on the strength of his assurance that he supplied
the Castle ; whereas, on my honour, Monsieur de Chavigny, though
I've been here a week, has not ordered so much as a tartlet.' So,
my lord, I am going to try his pates; and, as I am fasting, you
understand, I would, with your highness's leave " And La
Ramee bent low.
"Go, then, animal," said the duke; "but remember, I only
allow you half an hour."
" May I promise your custom to the successor of Father Mar-
teau, my lord ?"
" Yes—if he does not put mushrooms in his pies—thou knowest
that mushrooms from the wood of Vincennes are fatal to my
family."
La Ramefe went out, but in five minutes one of the officers of
the guard entered, in compliance with the strict orders of the Car-
dinal, that the prisoner should never be left one moment.
But, during these five minutes, the duke had had time to read
over again the note from Madame de Montbazon, which proved
to the prisoner that his friends were concerting plans for his deli-
verance; but in what way he knew not.
But his confidence in Grimaud, whose petty persecutions he now
perceived were only a blind, increased, and he conceived the high-
est opinion of his intellect, and resolved to trust entirely to his
guidance.
CHAPTER XIX.
in which the contents of the pates made by the succes-
sor of father marteau are described.
In half an hour La Ramee returned full of glee, like most men
who have eaten, and more especially drunk, to their heart's con-
tent. The pates were excellent, and the wine delicious.
The weather was fine, and the game at tennis took place in the
open air.
THE CONTENTS OF THE PATES. ill
At two o'clock the tennis balls began, according to Grimaud's
directions, to take the direction of the moat, much to the joy of
La Ramee, who marked fifteen whenever the duke sent a ball into
the moat; and very soon balls were wanting, so many had gone
over. La Ramee then proposed to send some one to piek them
up. But the duke remarked that it would be losing time; and
going near the rampart himself, and looking over, he saw a man
working in one of the numerous little gardens cleared out by the
peasants on the opposite side of the moat.
" Hey, friend !" cried the duke.
The man raised his head, and the duke was about to utter a cry
of surprise. The peasant, the gardener, was Rochefort, whom he
believed to be in the Bastille.
" Well! who's up there ?" said the man.
" Be so good as to send us back our balls," said the duke.
The gardener nodded, and began to throw up the balk, which
were picked up by La Ramee and the guard. One, however, fell
at the duke's feet; and seeing that it was intended for him, he put
it into his pocket.
La Ramee was in ecstasies at having beaten a prince of the
blood.
The duke went indoors, and retired to bed, where he spent,
indeed, the greater part of every day, as they had taken his books
away. La Ramee carried off all his clothes, in order to be certain
that the duke would not stir. However, the duke contrived to
hide the ball under his bolster, and as soon as the door was closed,
he tore off the cover of the ball with his teeth, and found under-
neath it the following letter :
"My Lord,
"Your friends watch over you, and the hour of your de-
liverance draws near. Ask to-morrow to have a pie made by the
new confectioner opposite the castle, and who is no other than
Noirmont, your former 'maitre d'hoteJ.' Do not open the pie till
you are alone. I hope you will be satisfied with its contents.
"Your highness's most devoted servant,
" In the Bastille, as elsewhere,
"Comte de Rochefort."
. The duke, who had latterly been allowed a fire, burned the
letter, but kept the ball, and went to bed, hiding the ball under
his bolster. La Ramee entered : he smiled kindly on the prisoner,
for he was an excellent man who had taken a great liking for the
captive prince. He endeavoured to cheer him up in his solitude.
1X2
7 WE NT Y YEARS AFTER.
"Ah, my friend !" cried the duke, "you are so good ; if I could
but go, as you do, and eat pates and drink Burgundy at the house
of Father Marteau's successor !"
"'Tis true, my lord," answered La Ramee, "that his pates are
famous, and his wine magnificent."
" Good," said the duke to himself; " it seems that one of master
La Ramee's seven deadly sins is gluttony."
Then aloud:
" Well, my dear La Ramee ! the day after to-morrow is a
holiday."
"Yes, my lord, Pentecost."
" Will you give me a lesson the day after to-morrow ?"
" In what ?"
" In gastronomy."
" Willingly, my lord."
"But tete^a-tete. The' guards shall go to sup in the canteen of
Monsieur de Chavigny—we'll have a supper herej under your
direction."
" Hum !" said La Ramee.
The duke watched the countenance of La Ramee with an
anxious glance.
" Well," he asked, " that will do ? Will it not ?"
"Yes, my lord, on one condition."
"What?"
"That Grimaud should wait on us at table."
Nothing could be more agreeable to the duke; however, he had
presence of mind enough to exclaim :
" Send your Grimaud to the devil! he'll spoil my feast. I see
you distrust me."
" My lord, the day after to-morrow is Pentecost."
" Well! what of that ?"
" I have already told you what that magician had predicted."
" And what was it ?"
" That the day of Pentecost would not pass without your high-
ness being out of Vincennes."
" You believe in sorcerers, then, you fool!"
" I—I care for them, that—" and he snapped his fingers; " but
it is my Lord Giulio who cares for them—as an Italian, he is
superstitious."
The duke shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, then," with a well-acted good humour, "I allow of
Grimaud, but no one else—you must manage it all. Order what-
ever you like for supper—the only thing I specify is one of those
pies; and tell the confectioner that I will promise him my custom
The contents oe the PJTjss.
if he excels this time in his pies—not- only now, but when I leave
my prison."
" Then you think you shall leave it ?" said La Ranffie.
" The devil!" replied the prince; " surely at the death of
Mazarin, I am fifteen years younger than he is. At Yincennes,
'tis true, one lives faster ''
" My lord," replied La Ramee, " my lord "
" Or one dies sooner, so it comes to the same thing."
La Ramee was going out. He stopped, however, at the door for
an instant.
" Whom does your highness wish me to send to you ?"
" Any one, except Grimaud."
" The officer of the guard, then ? with his chess-board ?"
"Yes."
Five minutes afterwards the officer entered, and the duke seemed
to be immersed in the sublime combinations of chess.
It was midnight before he went to sleep that evening, and he
awoke at daybreak. Wild dreams had disturbed his repose. He
dreamed that he had been gifted with wings—he wished to fly
away. For a time these wings had supported him ; but, when he
had reached a certain height, this new aid had failed him. His
wings were broken, and he seemed to sink into a bottomless abyss,
whence he awoke, bathed in perspiration, and as much overcome
as if he had really fallen. He fell asleep again, and another vision
appeared. He was in a subterranean passage, by which he was to
leave Vincennes. Grimaud was walking before him with a lantern.
By degrees the passage narrowed, yet the duke continued his
course. At last it became so narrow that the fugitive tried in vain
to proceed. The sides of the walls seemed to close in, and to
press against him. He made fruitless efforts to go on ; it was im-
possible. Nevertheless, he still saw Grimaud, with his lantern in
front, advancing. He wished to call out to him, but could not
utter a word. Then, at the other extremity, he heard the foot-
steps of those who were pursuing him. These steps came on—
they came fast. He was discovered—all hopes of flight were gone.
Still the walls seemed to be closing on him ; they appeared to be
in concert with his enemies. At last he heard the voice of La
Ramee. La Ramee took his hand, and laughed loud. He was
captured again, and conducted to the low and vaulted chamber,
in which Ornano, Puylaurens, and his uncle had died. _ Their
three graves were there, rising above the ground, and a third was
also there—yawning to receive a corpse.
The duke was obliged to make as many efforts to awaken as he
8
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
had done to go to sleep; and La Rame'e found him so pale and
fatigued, that he inquired whether he was ill.
" What is the matter with your highness ?" he asked.
"'Tis thy fault, thou simpleton," answered the duke. "With
your idle nonsense yesterday, about escaping, you worried me so,
that I dreamed that I was trying to escape, and broke my neck in"
doing so."
La Ramee laughed.
" Come," he said, •" 'tis a warning from heaven. Never commit
such an imprudence as to try to escape, except in your dreams.
Listen ! your supper is ordered."
" Ah ! and what is it to be ? Monsieur, my major-domo, will
there be a pie ?" .
" I think so indeed ; as high as a tower."
" You told him it was for me ?"
" Yes; and he said he would do his best to please your highness."
"Good !" exclaimed the duke, rubbing his hands.
" Devil take it, my lord ! what a gourmo»d you are becoming.
I haven't seen you with so cheerful a face these five years."
At this moment Grimaud entered, and signified to La Ram£e
that he had something to say to him.
The duke instantly recovered his composure.
" I forbade that man to come here," he said.
"'Tis my fault," replied La Ramee; "but he must stay here whilst
I go to see Monsieur de Chavigny, who has some orders to give me."
And La Ramee went out. Grimaud looked after him ; and
when the door was closed, he drew out of his pocket a pencil and v
a sheet of paper.
" Write, my lord," he said.
" And what ?"
Grimaud dictated,
" All is ready for to-morrow evening. Keep watch from seven
till nine o'clock. Have two riding-horses quite ready. We shall
descend by the first window in the ^gallery."
" What next ?"
"Sign your name, my lord."
The duke signed.
" Now, my lord, give me, if you have not lost it, the ball—that
which contained the letter."
The duke took it from under his pillow, and gave it to Grimaud.
Grimaud gave a grim smile.
"Now," said the duke, " tell me what this famous raised pie is
to contain."
THE CONTENTS OF THE PATES.
"Two poignards, a knotted rope, and a poire d'angoisse."*
" Yes, I understand;—we shall take to ourselves the poignards
and the rope," replied the duke.
" And make La Ramee eat the pear," answered Grimaud.
" My dear Grimaud, thou speakest seldom, but when thou dost
speak, one must do thee justice—thy words are of gold."
CHAPTER XX.
ONE OF marie michon's adventures.
Whilst these projects where being formed by the Due de Beau-
fort and Grimaud, the Comte de la Fere and the Yicomte de
Bragelonne were entering Paris by the Rue du Faubourg Saint
Marcel.
They stopped at the sign of the Fox, in !he Rue du Vieux
Colombier, a tavern known for many years by Athos, and asked
for two bed-rooms.
"You must dress yourself, Raoul," said Athos. "I am going
to pre'sent you to some one. I wish you to look well, so arrange
your dress with care."
" I hope, sir," replied the youth, smiling, " that there's no idea
of a marriage for me ; you know my engagement to Louise ?"
Athos, in his turn, smiled also.
" No, don't be alarmed—although it is to a lady that I am going
to present you— -and I am anxious that you should love her "
" What age is she ?" inquired the Vicomte de Bragelonne.
" My dear Raoul, learn once for all, that that is a question
Which is never asked. When you can find out a woman's age by
her face it is useless to ask it; when you cannot do so it is in-
discreet."
" Is she beautiful ?"
" During sixteen years she was deemed not only the prettiest
but the most graceful woman in France."
This reply reassured the vicomte. A woman who had been a
reigning beauty for sixteen years could not be the subject of any
scheme for him. He retired to his toilet. When he reappeared,
Athos received him with the same paternal smile as that which he
* This poire d'angoisse was a famous gag, in the form ot a pear, which, being
thrust into the mouth, by the aid of a spring, dilated so as to distend the jaws
to their greatest width.
twenty years after.
had often bestowed on D'Artagnan—but a more profound tencfei-
ness for Raoul was now visibly impressed upon his face.
Athos cast a glance at his feet, hands, and hair—those three
marks of race. The youth's dark hair was neatly parted, and hung
in curls, forming a sort of dark frame round his face—such was
the fashion of the day. Gloves of grey kid, matching the hat,
displayed the form of a slender and elegant hand; whilst his
boots, similar in colour to the hat and gloves, confined the feet,
small as those of a child of ten years old.
" Come," murmured Athos, " if she is not proud of him, she
will be hard to please."
It was three o'clock in the afternoon. The two travellers pro-
ceeded to the Rue St. Dominique, and stopped at the door of a
magnificent hotel, surmounted with the arms of De Luynes.
" 'Tis here," said Athos.
He entered the hotel, and ascended the front steps, and address-
ing a footman who waited there in a grand livery, asked if the
Duchesse de Chevreuse was visible, and if she could receive the
Comte de la Fere ?
The servant returned with a message to say that though the
duchess had not the honour of knowing Monsieur de la Fere, she
would receive him. He was accordingly announced.
Madame de Chevreuse, whose name appears so often in our
story—" The Three Musketeers "—without her actually having
appeared in any scene, was still a most beautiful woman. Although
about forty-four or forty-five years old, she scarcely seemed thirty-
eight. She still had her rich fair hair; her large, animated, in-
telligent eyes, so often opened by intrigue, so often closed by the
blindness of love. She had still her nymph-like form, so that
when her back was turned, she seemed to be still the girl who
had jumped with Anne of Austria over the moat of the Tuileries
in 1563. In all other respects she was the same mad creature
who threw over her amours such an air of originality as to make
them almost a proverb in her family.
She was in a little boudoir looking upon a garden, and hung
with blue damask, adorned by red flowers, with a foliage of gold;
and reclined upon a sofa, her head supported on the rich tapestry
which covered it. She held a book in her hand, and her arm was
supported by a cushion.
As the footman announced two strangers, she raised herself a
little and peeped out, with some curiosity.
Athos appeared.
He was dressed in violet-coloured velvet, trimmed with the
ONE OF MARIE MICHON'S ADVENTURES. 117
same colour. His shoulder-knots were of burnished silver; his
mantle had no gold nor embroidery on it, and a simple plume of
violet feathers adorned his hat; his boots were of black leather;
and at his girdle hung that sword with a magnificent hilt that
Porthos had so often admired in the Rue Feronnibre. Splendid
lace formed the falling collar of his shirt, and lace fell also over
the tops of his boots.
In his whole person he bore such an impress of high condition,
that Madame de Chevreuse half rose from her seat when she saw
him, and made him a sign to sit down near her. He obeyed, the
servant disappeared, and the door was closed.
There was a momentary silence, during which these two persons
looked at each other attentively.
The duchess was the first to speak.
" Well, sir ! I am waiting to hear what you wish to say to me—
with impatience."
" And I, madame," replied Athos, " am looking with admiration."
" Sir," said Madame de Chevreuse, " you must excuse me, but
I long to know to whom I am talking. You belong to the court,
doubtless, yet I have never seen you at court. Have you been in-
the Bastille by any mischance ?"
" No, madame, I have not; but perhaps I am on the road to it."
"Ah ! then tell me who you are, and get along with you,'"replied
the duchess, with the gaiety which made her so charming, " for I
am sufficiently in bad odour there already, without compromising
myself still more."
" Who I am, madame ? My name has been mentioned to you
—the Comte de la Fere—you do not know that name. I once
bore another, which you knew; but you have certainly forgotten it."
"Tell it me, sir."
"Formerly," said the count, " I was Athos."
Madame de Chevreuse looked astonished. The name was
not wholly forgotten, but mixed up and confused with some old
recollections.
" Stop," she said.
And she placed her hands on her brow, as if to force the fugitive
ideas it contained to be concentrated for a moment.
" Shall I help you, madame ?" asked Athos.
"Yes, do," said the duchess.
" This Athos was connected with three young Musketeers, named
■Porthos, D'Artagnan, and "
He stopped short.
" And Aramis," said the duchess, quickly.
Ii8 TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"And Aramis; you have not forgotten that name."
" No," she said : poor Aramis; a charming man, elegant, discreet,
and a writer of poetry verses. I am afraid he has turned out ill,"
she added.
" He has ,* he is an abbe."
" Ah, what a misfortune !" exclaimed the duchess, playing care-
lessly with her fan. " Indeed, sir, I thank you; you have recalled
one of the most agreeable recollections of my youth."
" Will you permit me, then, to recall another to you ?"
" Anything relating to him ?"
" Yes and no. Aramis was intimate with a young needlewoman
from Tours, a cousin of his, named Marie Michon."
"Ah, I knew her !" cried the duchess. " It was to her he wrote,
from the siege of Rochelle, to warn her of a plot against the Duke
of Buckingham."
" Exactly so; will you allow me to speak to you of her ?"
" If," replied the duchess, with a meaning look, " you do not say
too much against her."
" You encourage me, madame. I shall continue," said Athos;. and
he began his narrative.
He alluded to events long gone by; to the journey in disguise of
Marie Michon, the supposed needlewoman of Tours, but, in fact, the
beautiful, intriguing, and at one time, all powerful Duchesse de
Chevreuse, into Spain : he spoke of her rencontres and adventures;
and he told her anecdotes of her life which seemed to her mind to
be the revelations of a sorcerer rather than the disclosures of a mere
man .... These disclosures remain in mystery; they were
succeeded by an exclamation of joy from Madame de Chevreuse.
" He is there ! my son ! the son of Marie Michon ! But I must
see him instantly."
" Take care, madame," said Athos, " for he knows neither his
father nor his mother."
"You have kept the secret! you have brought him to see me,
thinking to make me happy. Oh, thanks ! thanks ! sir," cried
Madame de Chevreuse, seizing his hand, and trying to put it to her
lips; "you have a noble heart."
"I bring him to you, madame," said Athos, withdrawing his
hand, " hoping that, in your turn, you will do something for him;
till now I have watched over his education, and I have made him,
I hope, an accomplished gentleman; but I am now obliged to re-
turn to the dangerous and wandering life of party faction. To-
morrow I plunge into an adventurous affair in which I may be
killed. Then it,will devolve on you to push him on in that world
where he is called on to occupy a place."
ONE OF MARIE MICRON'S ADVENTURES. 119
"Be assured," cried the duchess, "I shall do what I can. I
have but little influence now, but all that I have shall be his. As
to his title and fortune
" As to that, madame, I have made over to him the estate of
Bragelonne, my inheritance, which will give him ten thousand
francs a-year, and the title of vicomte;—and now I will call him."
Athos moved towards the door; the duchess held him back.
" Is he handsome ?" she asked.
Athos smiled.
"He resembles his mother."
And he opened the door, and desired the young man to come in.
The duchess could not forbear uttering a cry of joy on seeing
so handsome a young cavalier, who surpassed all that her pride
had been able to conceive.
" Vicomte, come here," said Athos ; " the duchess permits you
to kiss her4hand."
The youth approached with his charming smile, and his head
bare, and, kneeling down, kissed the hand of the Duchesse de
Chevreuse.
" Sir," he said, turning to Athos, " was it not in compassion to
my timidity that you told me that this lady was the Duchesse de
Chevreuse, and is she not the queen ?"
"No," said the duchess, extending her hand to him ; "no; un-
happily I am not the queen, for, if I were, I should do for you at
once all that you deserve: but let us see; whatever I may be,"
she added, her eyes glistening with delight, " let us see what .pro-
fession you wish to follow ?"
Athos, standing, looked at them both with indescribable pleasure.
" Madame," answered the youth in his sweet voice, " it seems
to me that there is only one career for a gentleman—that of the
army. I have^heen brought up by Monsieur le Comte with the
intention, I believe, of making me a soldier; and he gave me
reason to hope that, at Paris, he would present me to some one
who would recommend me to the favour of the prince."
"Yes, I understand it well. Personally I am on bad terms with
him, on account of the quarrels between Mhdame de Montbazon,
my mother-in-lawa and Madame de Longucville. But the Prince
de Marsillac! yes, indeed, that's the right thing. The Prince de
Marsillac, my old friend—he will recommend our young friend to
Madame de Longueville, who will give him a letter to her brother,
the prince, who loves her too tenderly not to do what she wishes
immediately."
"Well, that will do charmingly," said the count; "but may I
120
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
beg that the greatest haste may be made, for I have reasons for wish-
ing the vicomte not to sleep longer than to-morrow night in Paris ?"
"Do you wish it known that you are interested about him,
Monsieur le Comte ?"
" Better for him, in future, that he should be supposed never to
have seen me."
" Oh, sir !" cried Raoul.
* "You know, Bragelonne, " said Athos, "I never act without
reflection.
"Well, comte, I am going instantly," interrupted the duchess,
" to send for the Prince de Marsillac, who is, happily, in Paris
just now. What are you going to do this evening ?"
" We intend to visit the Abbe Scarron, for whom I have a letter of
introduction, and at whose house I expect to meet some of my friends."
" 'Tis well; I shall go there also, for a few minutes," said the
duchess; do not quit his salon until you have seen me."
Athos bowed, and took his departure.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE ABBE SCARRON.
There was once, in the Rue des Tournelles, a house known by all
the sedan chairmen and footmen of Paris, and yet, nevertheless,
this house was neither that of a great lord, nor of a rich man.
There was neither dining, nor playing at cards, nor dancing in that
house. Nevertheless, it was the rendezvous of all the great world,
and all Paris went there. It was the abode of little Scarron.
There, in the home of that witty abbe, there was incessant
laughter; there all the news of the day had their source, and were
so quickly transformed, misrepresented, and converted, some into
epigrams, some into falsehoods, that every one was anxious to
pass an hour with little Scarron, listening to what he said, and re-
porting it to others.
The diminutive Abbe Scarron, who, however, was only an abbe
because he owned an abbey, and not because he was in orders,
had formerly been one of the gayest prebendaries of the town of
Maur, which he inhabited. But he had become lame; every
means had been in vain employed to restore the use of his limbs.
He had been subjected to a severe discipline: at length he sent
away all his doctors, declaring that he preferred the disease to the
treatment, and came to Paris, where the fame of his wit had pre-
ceded him. There he had a chair made on his own plan; and
THE ABBE SCARRON.
121
one day, visiting Anne of Austria in this chair, she asked him,
charmed as she was with his wit, if he did not wish for a title.
" Yes, your majesty, there is a title which I covet much," replied
Scarron.
" And what is that ?"
"That of being your invalid," answered Scarron.
So he was called the queen's invalid, with a pension of fifteen
hundred francs.
From that lucky moment Scarron led a happy life, spending
both income and principal. One day, however, an emissary of
the Cardinal's gave him to understand that he was wrong in re-
ceiving the Coadjutor so often.
" And why ?" asked Scarron; " is he not a man of good birth ?"
" Certainly."
" Agreeable ?"
" Undeniably."
« Witty ?"
"He has, unluckily, too much wit."
" Well, then, why do you wish me to give up seeing such a man ?"
" Because he is an enemy."
" Of whom ?"
" Of the Cardinal."
" How ?" answered Scarron; " I continue to receive Monsieur
Gilles Despreaux, who thinks ill of me, and you wish me to give
up seeing the Coadjutor, because he thinks ill of another man."
Now, the very morning of which we speak, was that of his
quarter-day's payment, and Scarron, as usual, had sent his servant
to fetch his money at the pension-office, but he had returned, and
said that the Government had no more money to give Monsieur
Scarron.
It was a Thursday, the abbe's day of reception ; people went
there in crowds. The Cardinal's refusal to pay the pension was
known about the town in half an hour, and he was abused with
vehemence.
—Athos made two visits in Paris; at seven o'clock he and
Raoul directed their steps to the Rue des Tournelles; it was stop-
ped up by porters, horses, and footmen. Athos forced his way
through and entered, followed by the young man. The first per-
son that struck him on his entrance was Aramis, planted near a
great chair on castors, very large, covered with a canopy of tapes-
try, under which there moved, enveloped in a quilt of brocade, a
little face, rather young, rather merry, but somewhat pallid,—
whilst its eyes never ceased to express a sentiment at once lively,
122
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
intellectual, and amiable. This was the Abbe Scarron, always
laughing, joking, complimenting,—yet suffering—and scratching
himself with a little switch.
Around this kind of rolling tent pressed a crowd of gentlemen
and ladies. The room was neat and comfortably furnished.
Large vallances of silk, embroidered with flowers of gay .colours,
which were rather faded, fell from the wide windows; the fitting-
up of the room was simple, but in good taste. Two men servants,
well trained, attended on the company. On perceiving Athos,
Aramis advanced towards him, took him by the hand, and pre-
sented him to Scarron. Raoul remained silent, Tor he was not
prepared for the dignity of the "bel esprit."
After somfe minutes the door opened, and a footman announced
Mademoiselle Paulet.
Athos touched the shoulder of the vicomte.
" Look at this lady, Raoul, she is an historic personage; it was
to visit her that King Henry IV. was going, when he was assas-
sinated."
Everyone thronged round Mademoiselle Paulet, for she was al-
ways much in fashion. She was a tall woman, with a wavy and
slender figure, and a forest of golcten curls, such as Raphael was
fond of, and as Titian has painted all his Magdalens with. This
fawn-coloured hair—or, perhaps, the sort of ascendancy which
she had over other women—gave her the name of "La Lionne."
Mademoiselle Paulet took her accustomed seat; but before
sitting down, she cast, in all her queen-like grandeur, a look round
the room—and her eyes rested on Raoul.
Athos smiled.
" Mademoiselle Paulet has observed you, vicomte; go and bow
to her; don't try to appear anything but what you are—a true
country youth—on no account speak to her of Henry IV."
"When shall we two talk together ?" Athos then said to Aramis.
" Presently—there are not a sufficient number of people here
yet—-we shall be remarked."
At this moment the door opened, and in walked the Coadjutor.
At this name everyone looked round, for it was already a name
very celebrated. Athos did the same. He knew the Abbd de
Gondy only by report.
He saw a little dark man, ill-made and awkward with his hands
in everything—except when drawing a sword and firing a pistol,
and with something haughty and contemptuous in his face.
Scarron turned round towards him, and came to meet him in
his chain
THE ABB& SCARE OH,
123
'"Well," said the Coadjutor on seeing him, "you are in disgrace,
then, Abbd?"
This was the orthodox phrase. It had been said that evening
a hundred times—and Scarron was at his hundredth " bon-mot"
on the subject—he was^very near stopping short, but one despair-
ing effort saved him.
" Monsieur, the Cardinal Mazarin has been so kind as to think
of me," he said.
" But how can you- continue to receive us ?" asked the Coad-
jutor; "if your income is lessened, I shall be obliged to make
you a canon of Notre Dame."
"Oh, no," cried Scarron, " I should compromise you too much."
" Perhaps you have resources of which we are ignorant ?"
"I shall borrow from the queen."
"But her Majesty has no property," interposed Aramis.
At this moment the door opened, and Madame de Chevreuse
was announced. Everyone rose. Scarron turned his chair towards
the door; Raoul blushed; Athos made a sign to Aramis, who
went to hide himself in the inclosure of a window.
In the midst of all the compliments that awaited her on her
entrance, the duchess seemed to be looking for some one : at last
she found out Raoul, and her eyes sparkled ; she perceived Athos,
and became thoughtful; she saw Aramis in the seclusion of the
window, ^and gave a start of surprise behind her fan.
" Apropos," she said, as if to drive away thoughts that pursued her
in spite of herself, "how is poor Voiture; do you know, Scarron?"
"What! is Monsieur Voiture ill?" inquired a gentleman who
had spoken 'a Athos in the Rue St. Honore; " what is the matter
with him ?*
" He was acting—but forgot to take the precaution to have clean
linen brought'to change," said the Coadjutor, "so he took cold,
and is going to die."
££Is he then so ill, dear Voiture?" asked Aramis, half hidden
by the window curtain.
" He die !" cried Mademoiselle Paulet bitterly : " he ! why he
is surrounded by sultanas, like a Turk. Madame de Saintot has
hastened to him with broth ; La Renaudet warms his sheets ; the
Marquise de Rambouillet sends him his ' tisanes.' "
"You don't like him, my dear Parthenie," said Scarron.
" What an injustice, my dear invalid ! I hate him so little, that
I should be delighted to order masses for the repose of his soul."
"You are not called £ Lionne' for nothing," observed Madame
de Chevreuse, " you bite most cruelly,"
124
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"You are unjust to a great poet, so it seems to me," Raoul
ventured to say.-
" A great poet! he! come, one may easily see, vicomte, that
you are lately from the provinces, and have never seen him. A
great poet! he is scarcely five feet high."
" Bravo ! bravo !" cried a tall man with an enormous moustache
and a long rapier, " bravo, fair Paulet, it is high time to put little
Voiture is his right place. For my part I always thought his
poetry detestable, and I think I know something about poetry."
"Who is this officer," inquired Raoul, of Athos, "who is
speaking ?"
" Monsieur de Scudery, the author of ' Delia,' and of ' Le Grand
Cyrus,' which were composed partly by him, and partly by his
sister, who is now talking to that pretty person yonder, near Mon-
sieur Scarron."
Raoul turned, and saw two new faces just arrived. One was
perfectly charming, delicate, pensive, shaded by beautiful dark
hair, with eyes soft as velvet, like those lbvely flowers—the hearts-
ease, under which shine the golden petals. The other, of mature
age, seemed to have the former one undet her charge—and was
cold, dry, and yellow—the true type of a duenna or a devotee.
Raoul resolved not to quit the rex :m without having spoken to
the beautiful girl with the soft eyes, who by a strange fancy—
although she bore no resemblance—reminded him of his poor
little Louise, whom he had left in the Chateau de la Valliere, and
whom, in the midst of all the party, he had never one moment
forgotten. Meantime Aramis had drawn near to the Coadjutor,
who, smiling all the while, had contrived to drop some words into
his ear. Raoul, following the advice of Athos, went towards
them. Athos had now joined the other two, and they were in deep
consultation as the youth approached them.
" 'Tis a rouleau by Monsieur Voiture that Monsieur l'Abbe is
repeating to me," said Athos in a loud voice, "and I confess 1
think it incomparable."
Raoul stayed only a few minutes near them, and then mingled
in the-group around Madame de Chevreuse.
" Well, then," asked Athos, in a low tone, as soon as the three
friends were unobserved, " to-morrow ?"
"Yfes, to-morrow," said Aramis quickly, "at six o'clock,"
"Where?"
"At St. Maude."
"Who told you?"
"The Count de Rochefort,"
THE AT BE SCARROlSf.
'Some one drew near.
"And then philosophic "ideas are wholly wanting in Voiture's
works—but I am of the same opinion as the Coadjutor—he is a
poet, a true poet." Aramis spoke so as to be heard by everybody.
"And I too," murmured the young lady with the velvet'eyes;
"I have the misfortune also to admire his poetry extremely."
" Monsieur Scarron, do me the honour," said Raoul, blushing,
" to tell me the name of that young lady whose opinion seems so
different to that of the others of the company generally."
"Ah! my young vicomte," replied Scarron, "I suppose you
wish to propose to her an alliance, offensive and defensive."
Raoul blushed again.
" You asked the name of that young lady. She is called the
fair Indian."
" Excuse me, sir," returned Raoul, blushing still more deeply, " I
know no more than I-did before. Alas ! I am from the country."
" Which means that you know very little about the nonsense
which flows here, down our streets, i So much the better, young
man ! so much the better ! Don't try to understand it—you will
only lose your time."
"You forgive me then, sir," said Raoul; "'and you will deign
to tell me who is the person that you call the young Indian ?"
" Certainly ; one of the most charming persons that lives—
Mademoiselle Frances d'Aubigne."
"Does she belong to the family of the celebrated Agrippus,
the friend of Henry IV.?"
"His grand-daughter. She comes from Martinique, so I call
her the beautiful Indian."
Raoul looked surprised, and his eyes met those of the young
lady, who smiled.
The company went on speaking of the poet Voiture.
"Monsieur," said Mademoiselle d'Aubigne to Scarron, as if
she wished to join in the conversation he was engaged in with
Raoul, " do you not admire Monsieur Voiture's friends ? Listen
how they pull him to pieces, even whilst they praise him; one
takes away from him all claim to good sense, another runs off
with his poetry, another with his originality, another with his
humour, another with his independence of character, another—
but, good heavens ! what will they leave him ? as Mademoiselle
de Scudery remarks."
Scarron and Raoul laughed. The fair Indian, astonished at the
sensation her observations produced, looked down and resumed
her air of ' naivete.'
126*
twenty years after.
. Athos—still within the enclosure of the window—watched vchis
scene with a smile of disdain on his lips.
"Tell the Count de la Fbre to come to me," said Madame
de Chevreuse, "I want to speak to him."
"And I," said the Coadjutor, "want it to bethought that I
do not speak to him. I admire, I love him—for I know his
former adventures—but I shall not speak to him until the day
after to-morrow."
" And what then ?" asked Madame de Chevreuse.
" You shall know to-morrow evening," replied the Coadjutor,
laughing.
Athos then drew near her.
" Monsieur le Comte," said the duchess, giving him a letter,
" here is what I promised you; our young friend will be extremely
well received."
" Madame, he is very happy in owing any obligation to you."
Madame de Chevreuse rose to depart.
"Vicomte," said Athos to Raoul, "follow the duchess; beg
her to do you the favour to take your arm in going downstairs, and
thank her as you descend."
The fair Indian approached Scarron.
"You are going already?" he said.
" One of the last, as you see; if you hear anything of Mon-
sieur Voiture, be so kind as to send me word to-morrow."
" Oh !" said Scarron, "he may die now."
" Why ?" asked the young girl with the velvet eyes.
"Certainly—his panegyric has been uttered."
They parted, laughing; she turning back to gaze at the, poor
paralytic man with interest, he looking after her with eyes of love.
So the invalid disappeared soon afterwards, and went into his
sleeping-room; and one by one the lights in the salon of La Rue
des Tournelles were extinguished.
CHAPTER XXIL
saint denis.
The day had begun to break when Athos rose and dressed him-
self; it was plain, by the paleness still greater than usual, and by
those traces which loss of sleep leaves on the face, that he must
have passed almost the whole of the night without sleeping. Con-
SAINT DENIS.
trary to the custom of a man so firm and decided, there was this
morning in his personal appearance something slow and irresolute.
He was evidently occupying himself in preparations for the de-
parture of Raoul; after employing nearly an hour in these cares,
he opened the door of the room in which the Vicomte slept, and
entered.
The sun, already high, penetrated into the room through the
window, the curtains of which Raoul had neglected to close on the
previous evening. He was still sleeping, his head gracefully re-
posing on his arm.
Athos approached and hung over the youth in an attitude full of
tender melancholy; he looked long on this young man, whose
smiling month, and half-closed eyes, bespoke soft dreams and light
slumbers, as if his guardian angel watched over him with solicitude
and affection. By degrees Athos gave himself up to the charms of
his reverie in the proximity of youth, so pure, so fresh. His own
youth seemed to re-appear, bringing with it all those soft remem-
brances, which are like perfumes more than thoughts. Between
the past and the present there was an abyss. But imagination has
the flight of an angel of light, and travels over the seas where we
have been almost shipwrecked,—the darkness in which our associa-
tions are lost—the precipice, whence our happiness has been hurled
and swallowed up. He remembered that all the first part of his life
had been embittered by a woman, and he thought with alarm of
the influence which love might possess over so fine, and, at the same
time, so vigorous an organisation as that of Raoul.'
In recalling all that he had suffered, he foresaw all that Raoul
would'suffer; and the expression of the deep and tender compas-
sion which throbbed in his heart was pictured in the moist eye with
which he gazed on the young man.
At this moment Raoul awoke, without a cloud on his face—
without weariness or lassitude; his eyes were fixed on those of
Athos, and he, perhaps, comprehended all that passed in the heart
of the man who was awaiting his awakening as a lover awaits the
awakening of his mistress, for his glance, in return, had all the
tenderness of infinite love.
"You are there, sir," he said respectfully.
" Yes, Raoul," replied the count.
" And you did not awaken me ?"
" I wished to leave you still to enjoy some moments of sleep, my
child; you must be fatigued from yesterday.™
" Oh, sir ! how good you are !"
Athos smiled.
Twenty years aetER.
" How are you ?" he said.
"Perfectly well; quite rested, sir."
" You are still growing," Athos continued, with that charming
and paternal interest felt by a grown man for a youth.
" Oh, sir! I beg your pardon," exclaimed Raoul, ashamed of so
much attention ; "man instant, I shall be dressed."
Athos then called Olivain.
" Everything," said Olivain to Athos, " has been done according
to your directions ; the horses are waiting."
"And I was asleep !" cried Raoul; " whilst you, sir, you had the
kindness to attend to all these details. Truly, sir, you overwhelm
me with benefits!"
" Therefore you love me, a little, I hope," replied Athos, in a tone
of emotion.
" Oh, sir ! God knows that I love, I revere you."
" See that you forget nothing!" said Athos, appearing to look
about him that he might hide his emotion.
"No, indeed, sir," answered Raoul.
The servant then approached Athos, and said, hesitatingly :
"Monsieur le Vicomte has no sword."
"'Tis well," said Athos. " I will take care of that."
They went downstairs; Raoul looking every now and then at the
count to see if the moment of farewell was at hand, but Athos
was silent. When they reached the steps, Raoul saw three horses.
" Oh, sir ! then you are going with me ?"
" I shall conduct you part of the way," said Athos.
They set out, passing over the Pont Neuf; they pursued their
way along the quay then called L'Abreuvoir Pepin, and went along
by the walls of the Grand Chatelet. They proceeded to the Rue
St. Denis.
After passing through the Porte Saint Denis, Athos looked at
Raoul's horse, and said :
" Take care, Raoul! I have already often told you of this ; you
must not forget it, for it is a great defect in a rider. See ! your
horse is tired already, he froths at the mouth, whilst mine looks as
if he had only just left the stable. You hold the bit too tight, and
so make his mouth hard; so that you will not be able to make
him manoeuvre quickly. The safety of a cavalier often depends
on the prompt obedience of his horse. In a week, remember, you
will no longer be performing your manoeuvres, as a practice, but
on a field of battle."
Then, suddenly, in order not to give too sad an importance to
this observation:
SAINT DENIS.
129
11 See, Raoul !" he resumed; " what a fine plain for partridge
shooting ! I have remarked also another thing," said Athos, " which
is, that in firing off your pistol, you hold your arm too much stretched
out. This tension lessens the accuracy of the aim. So, in twelve
tihnes you thrice missed the mark."
" Which you, sir, struck twelve times," answered Raoul,
smiling.
" Because I bent my arm, and rested my hand on my elbow—
so—do you understand what I mean ?"
" Yes, sir. I fired since in that manner, and was completely
successful."
" What a cold wind!" resumed Athos. ' " A wintry blast
Apropos, if you fire—and you will do so, for you are recommended
to a young General who is very fond of powder—remember in
single combat (which often takes place in the cavalry) never to
fire the first shot. He who fires the first shot rarely hits his man,
for he fires with the apprehension ^of being disarmed before an
armed foe; then, whilst he fires, make your horse rear; that
manoeuvre has saved my life several times."
" I shall do so, if only in gratitude for "
" Eh !" cried Athos, " are not those poachers whom they have
arrested yonder? They are. TJaen another important thing,
Raoul; should you be wounded in a battle, and fall from your hqrse
■—if you have any strength left, disentangle yourself from the line
that your regiment has formed; otherwise, it may be driven back,
and you will be trampled to death by the horses. At all events,
if you should be wounded, write to me the very instant, or make
Some one write to me. We are judges of wounds, we old sol-
diers," Athos added, smiling.
" Thank you, sir," answered the young man, much moved.
They arrived that very moment at the gate of the town, guarded'
by two sentinels.
" Here comes a young gentleman," said one of them, " who
Seems as if he were going to join the army." ,
" How do you find that out ?" inquired Athos.
. " By his manner, sir, and his age; he's the second to-day."
" Has a young man, such as I am, gone through this moraartg;
then?" asked Raoul.
" Faith, yes, with a haughty presence and fine equipagesuch
as the son of a noble house would have."
" He was to be my companion on the journey, sir," cried Raoul.
" Alas ! he cannot make me forget what I shall have lost !"
Thus talking, they traversed the streets, full of people o-a ae-
9
13°
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
count of the fete, and arrived opposite the old cathedral where
the first mass was going on.
"Let us alight, Raoul," said Athos. " Olivain, take care of
our horses, and give me my sword."
The two gentlemen then went into the church. Athos gave
Raoul; some of the holy water. A love as tender as that of a
lover for his mistress dwells, undoubtedly, in some paternal hearts
for a son.
"Come, Raoul," he said, "let us follow this man."
The verger opened the iron grating which guarded the royal
tombs, and stood on the topmost step, whilst Athos and Raoul
descended. The depths of the sepulchral descent were dimly
lighted by a silver lamp, on the lowest step ; and just below this
lamp there was laid, wrapt in a large mantle of violet velvet,
worked with fleurs-de-lis of gold, a catafalque resting upon trestles
of oak.
The young man, prepared for this scene by the state of his own
feelings, which were mournful, and by the majesty of the cathedral,
which he had passed through, had descended in a slow and
solemn manner, and stood with his head uncovered before these
mortal spoils of the last king, who was not to be placed by the
$ide of his forefathers until Jais successor should take his place
there; and who appeared to abide on that spot, that he might
thus address human pride, so sure to be exalted by the glories of
a throne : " Dust of the earth I I await thee !"
There was a profound silence.
Then Athos raised his hand, and pointing to the coffin,—
"This temporary sepulchre is," he said, "that of a man of
feeble mind; yet whose reign was full of great events; because,
over this king watched the spirit of another man, even as this lamp
keeps vigil over this coffin, and illumines it. He whose intellect
was thus supreme, was, Raoul, the actual sovereign; the other,
nothing but a phantom to whom he gave a soul; and yet, so
powerful is majesty amongst us, this man has not even the honour
of a tomb even at the feet of him in whose service his life was
worn away. Remember, Raoul, this! If Richelieu made the
king, by comparison, small, he made royalty great. The palace
of the Louvre contains two things—the king, who must die—and
royalty, which dieth not. The minister, so feared, so hated by his
master, has descended into the tomb, drawing after him the king
■—whom he would not leave alone on earth, lest he should destroy
what he had done. So blind were his contemporaries that they
regarded the Cardinal's death as a deliverance; and I, even I,
SAINT DTNIS.,
Opposed the designs of the great man who held the destinies of
France in his hands. Raoul, learn how to distinguish the king
from royalty; the king is but a man; royalty is the gift of God.
Whenever you hesitate as to whom you ought to serve, abandon
the exterior, the material appearance, for the invisible principle:
for the invisible principle is everything. Raoul, I seem to read
your future destiny as through a cloud. It will be happier, I think,
than ours has been. Different in your fate to us—you will have a
king without a minister, whom you may serve, love, respect.
Should the king prove a tyrant, for power begets tyranny, serve,
love, respect royalty, that Divine right, that celestial spark which
makes this dust still powerful and holy, so that we—gentlemen,
nevertheless, of rank and condition—are as nothing in comparison
with that cold corpse extended here."
" I shall adore God, sir," said Raoul. " I shall respect royalty,
I shall serve the king, and I shall, if death be my lot, hope to die
for the king, for royalty, and for God. Have I, sir, comprehended
your instructions ?"
Athos smiled.
" Yours is a noble nature," he said; " here is your sword."
Raoul bent his knee to the ground.
" It was worn by my father, a loyal gentleman. I have worn it
in my turn, and it has sometimes not been disgraced when the hilt
was in my hand, and the sheath at my side. Should your hand
still be too weak to use this sword, Raoul, so much the better.
You will have more time to learn to draw it only when it ought to
be used."
" Sir," replied Raoul, putting the sword to his lips as he received
it from the count, " I owe everything to you, and yet this sword
is the most precious gift you have made me. I shall wear it, I
swear to you, as a grateful man should do."
" 'Tis well—arise, vicomte, embrace me."
Raoul rose, and threw himself with emotion into the count's
arms.
" Adieu," faltered the count, who felt his heart die away within
him; " adieu, and think of me."
t£ Oh ! for ever and ever !" cried the youth; " oh ! I swear to
you, sir, should any harm happen to me, your name shall be the
last that I shall utter — the remembrance of you, my last
'thought." ^ t .
• Athos hastened up-stairs to conceal his emotion, and regained,
with hurried steps, the porch where Olivain was waiting with the
horses.
9—3
twenty yeaes After.
" Olivain," said Athos, showing the * servant Raoul's shoulder-
belt; " tighten the buckle of this sword, which falls a little too
low. You will accompany Monsieur le Vicomte till Grimaud has
rejoined you. You know, Raoul, Grimaud is an old and zealous
servant, he will follow you."
" Yes, sir," answered Raoul.
" Now to horse, that I may see you depart."
Raoul obeyed.
" Adieu, Raoul," said the count; " adieu, my dear boy !"
" Adieu, sir—adieu—my beloved protector !"
Athos waved his hand; he dared not trust himself to speak,
and Raoul went away, his head uncovered. Athos remained
motionless, looking after him until he turned the corner of the
street.
Then the count threw the bridle of his horse into the hands of
a peasant, mounted again the steps, went into the cathedral, there
to kneel down in the darkest corner, and to pray.
CHAPTER XXIII.
one of the forty methods of escape of the duc de
beaufort.
The game at tennis, which, upon a sign from Grimaud, Monsieur
de Beaufort had consented to play, began in the afternoon. The
duke was in full force, and beat La Ramee completely.
. Four of the guards, who were constantly near the prisoner, as-
sisted in picking up the tennis balls. When the game was over,
the duke, laughing at La Ramee for his bad play, offered these
men two louis-d'or to go and drink his health, with their four other
comrades.
The guards asked permission of La Ramee, who gave it to them,
but not till the evening, however—until then he had business, and
the prisoner was not to be left alone.
Six o'clock came, and, although they were not to sit down to
table until seven o'clock, dinner was ready, and served up. Upon
a side-board appeared the colossal pie with the duke's arms on it,
and, seemingly, cooked to a turn, as far as one could judge by the
golden colour which illumined the crust.
The rest of the dinner was to come.
Every one was impatient; La Ramee to sit down to table—the
guards to go and drink—the duke to escape.
ESCAPE OF THE DUC DE BEAUFORT.
133
Grimaud alone was calm as ever. One might have fancied that
Athos had educated him with a forethought of this great event.
There were moments when, looking at Grimaud, the duke asked
himself if he was not dreaming, and if that marble figure was
really at his service, and would become animate when the moment
arrived for action.
La Ramee sent away the guards, desiring them to drink to the
duke's health, and, as soon as they were gone, he shut all the
doors, put the keys in his pocket, and showed the table to the
prince with an air which meant
" Whenever my lord pleases."
The prince looked at Grimaud—Grimaud looked at the clock
—it was hardly a quarter past six. The escape was fixed to take
place at seven o'clock. There were, therefore, three quarters of
an hour to wait.
The duke, in order to delay a quarter of an hour, pretended to
be reading something that interested him, and said he wished they
would allow him to finish his chapter. La Ramee went up to him
and looked over his shoulder to see what book it was that had so
singular an influence over the prisoner as to make him put off
taking his dinner.
It was " Caesar's Commentaries," which La Ramee had lent
him, contrary to the orders of the governor; and La Ramee re-
solved never again to disobey those injunctions.
Meantime he uncorked the bottles, and went to smell if the pie
was good.
' At half-past six the duke arose, and said very gravely :
" Certainly, Cassar was the greatest man of ancient times."
" You think so, my lord ?" answered La Ramee.
" Yes."
"Well, as for me, I prefer Hannibal."
" And why, pray, Master La Ramee ?" asked the duke.
" Because he left no Commentaries," replied La Ramee, with
his coarse laugh.
The duke offered no reply, but sitting down at the table, made a
sign that La Ramee should also seat himself opposite to him.
There is nothing so expressive as the face of an epicure who finds
himself before a well-spread table : so La Ramee, when receiving
his plate of soup from Grimaud, presented a type of perfect bliss..
The duke smiled.
" Zounds !" he said ; " I don't suppose there is a happier man
at this moment in the kingdom than you are !"
Ypu are right, my lord duke," answered the officer j " I don't
134
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
know a pleasanter sight than a well-covered table; and when,
added'to that, he who does the honours is the grandson of Henry
IV., you will, my lord duke, easily comprehend that the honour
one receives doubles the pleasure one enjoys."
The duke bowed in his turn, and an imperceptible smile ap-
peared on the face of Grimaud, who kept behind La Ramee,
" My dear La Ramee," said the duke, " you're the only man
who can turn a compliment as you do."
" No, my lord duke," replied La Ramee, in the fulness of his
heart; " I say what I think—there is no compliment in what I
say to you——"
" Then you are attached to me ?" asked the duke.
" To own the tr uth, I should be inconsolable if you were to
leave Vincennes."
" A droll way of showing your affliction." The duke meant to
say " affection."
"But, my lord," returned ,La Ramee ; " what would you do if
you got out ? Every folly you committed would embroil you with
the court, and they would put you into the Bastille, instead of
Vincennes. Now, Monsieur de Chavigny is not amiable, I allow;
but Monsieur du Tremblay is much worse." '
" Indeed!" exclaimed the duke, who from time to time looked
at the clock, the fingers of which seemed to move with a sickening
slowness; " but what could you expect from the brother of a
Capuchin monk, brought up in the school of Cardinal Richelieu ?"
" Ah, my lord, it is a great happiness that the queen, who always
wished you well, had a fancy to send you here, where there's a pro-
menade and a tennis court, good air, and a good table."
" In short," answered the duke, "if I comprehend you, La Ramee,
I am ungrateful for having ever thought of leaving this place ?"
" Oh ! my lord duke, 'tis the height of ingratitude; but your
highness has never seriously thought of it ?"
" Yes," returned the duke; " I must confess I do sometimes
think of it."
" Still by one of your forty methods, your highness ?"
"Yes—yes, indeed."
" My lord," said La Ramee, " now we are quite at our ease, and
enjoying ourselves, pray tell me one of those forty ways invented
by your highness. "
" Willingly," answered the duke; " give me the pie !"
" I am listening," said La Ramee, leaning back in his arm-chair,
and raising his glass of Madeira to his lips, and winking his eye
that he might see the sun through the rich liquid that he was about
to taste.
ESCAPE OF THE DUC DE BEAUFORT.
*35
The duke glanced at the clock. In ten minutes it would strike
seven.
Grimaud placed the pie before the duke, who took a knife with
a silver blade to raise the upper crust; but La Ramee, who was
afraid of any harm happening to this fine work of art, passed his
knife, which had an iron blade, to the duke.
" Thank you, La Ramee," said the prisoner.
" Well, my lord ! this famous invention of yours ?"
" Must I tell you," replied the duke, " on what I most reckon,
and what I determine to try first ?"
"Yes, that one ! my lord."
" Well—I should hope, in the first instance, to have as a keeper
an honest fellow, like you."
"And you have one, my lord—well?"'
" Having then a keeper like La Ramee, I, should try also to
have introduced to me by some friend a man who would be de-
voted to me, and who would assist me in my flight."
"Come, come," said La Ramee, "not a bad idea."
"Isn't it? For instance, the former serving man of some brave
gentleman, an enemy himself to Mazarin, as every gentleman ought
to be."
" Hush—don't let us talk politics, my lord !"
"Then my keeper will begin to trust this man, and to depend
upon him; and then I shall have news from those without the
prison walls."
" Ah, yes ! but how can the news be brought to you ?"
"Nothing easier—in a game of tennis. I send a ball into the
moat; a man is there who picks it up; the ball contains a letter."
" The devil it does! The devil it does!" said La Ramee,
scratching his head; "you are wrong to tell me that, my lord. I
shall watch the men who pick up balls."
The duke smiled.
" But," resumed La Ramee, " that is only one way of corre-
sponding."
" 'Tis a good one, it seems to me."
"But not a sure one."
" Pardon me. For instance, I say to my friends, Be on a certain
day, on a certain hour, at the other side of the moat, with two
horses."
" Well, what then ?"—La Ramee began to be uneasy—" unless
the horses have wings to mount up to the ramparts and to come
and fetch you."
"That's not needed. I have," "replied the duke, "a way of
descending from the ramparts."
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
" What ?"
"A ladder of ropes."
"Yes—but," answered La Ramee, trying to laugh, "a ladder or
ropes can't be sent round a ball, like a letter."
"No; but it can come in another way—in a pie, for instance,"
replied the duke. "The guards are away. Grimaud is here
alone; and Grimaud is the man whom a friend has sent to second
me in everything. The moment for my escape is fixed—seven
o'clock. - Well—-at a few minutes to seven "
" At a few minutes to seven ?" cried La Ramee, the cold sweat
on his brow.
" At a few minutes to seven," returned the duke (suiting the
action to the words), " I raise the crust of the pie. I' find in it
two poignards, a ladder of ropes, and a gag. I point one. of the
poignards at La Ramee's breast, and I say to him, ' My friend, I
am sorry for it; but if thou stirrest, if thou utterest a cry, thou art
a dead man !"'
The duke, in pronouncing these words, suited, as we have
before said, the action to the words. He was standing near the
officer, and he directed the point of the poignard in such a man-
ner, close to La Ramee's heart, that there could be no doubt in
the mind of that individual as to his determination. Meanwhile,
Grimaud, still mute as ever, drew from the pie the other sword,
the rope-ladder, and the gag.
La Ramee followed all these objects with his eyes; his alarm
every moment increasing.
" Oh, my lord !" he cried, with an expression of stupefaction in
his face; " you haven't the heart to kill me !"
" No; not if thou dost not oppose my flight."
" But, my lord, if I let you escape, I am a ruined man."
" I shall compensate thee for the loss of thy place."
"You are determined to leave the chateau?"
" By heaven and earth ! This evening I shall be free."
" And if I defend myself, or call, or cry out ?"
" I shall kill thee; on the honour of a gentleman, I shall."
At this moment the clock struck.
" Seven o'clock !" said Grimaud, who had not spoken a word.
La Ramee made one movement, in order to satisfy his con-
science. The duke frowned; the officer felt the point of the
poignard, which, having penetrated through his clothes, was close
to his heart.
" Let us despatch," said the duke.
" My lord—one last favour."
ESCAPE OP THE DUC EE PEA UFORT,
137
"What? speak—make haste."
"Bind my arms, my lord, fast."
" Why bind thee ?"
" That I may not be considered as your accomplice."
" Your hands ?" asked Grimaud.
" Not before me, behind me.'*
" But with what ? " asked the duke.
" With your belt,my lord," replied La Ramee.
The duke undid his belt and gave it to Grimaud, who tied La
Ramee in such a way as to satisfy him.
" Your feet also," said Grimaud.
La Ram£e stretched out his legs, Grimaud took a napkin, tore
it into strips, and tied La Ramee's feet together.
" Now, my lord," said the poor man, " let me have the poire
(Tangoisse. I ask for it; without it I should be tried in a court of
justice because I did not cry out. Thrust it into my mouth, my
•lord, thrust it in."
Grimaud prepared to comply with this request, when the officer
made a sign as if he had something to say.
" Speak," said the duke.
" Now, my lord, do not forget, if any harm happens to me, on
your account, that I have a wife and four children."
"Rest assured—put the gag in, Grimaud."
In a second La Ramee was gagged, and laid prostrate. Two or
three chairs were thrown down, as if there had been a struggle.
Grimaud then took from the pocket of the officer all the keys it
contained, and first opened the door of the room in which they
were, then shut it, and double-locked it, and both he and the duke
proceeded rapidly down the gallery, which led to the little in-
closure. At last they reached the tennis-court. It was completely
deserted. No sentinels—no one at the windows.
The duke ran on to the rampart, and perceived, on the other
side of the ditch, three cavaliers with two riding horses. The
duke exchanged a signal with them. It was well for him that
they were there.
Grimaud, meantime, undid the means of escape.
This was not, however, a rope-ladder, but a ball of silk cord,
with a narrow board, which was to pass between the legs and to
unwind itself by the weight of the person who sat astride upon
the board.
" Go !" said the duke.
" The first, my lord ?" inquired Grimaud.
"Certainly. If I am caught; I risk nothing but being taken
back again to prison. If they catch thee, thou wilt be hung."
138 TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" True," replied Grimaud.
And, instantly, Grimaud, sitting upon the board, as if on horse-
back, commenced his perilous descent.
The duke followed him with his eyes with involuntary terror.
He had gone down about three-quarters of the length of the wall,
when the cord broke. Grimaud fell—precipitated into the moat.
The duke uttered a cry, but Grimaud did not give a single
moan. He must have been dreadfully hurt, for he did not stir
from the place where he fell.
Immediately, one of the men who were waiting, slipped down
into the moat, tied under Grimaud's shoulders the end of a cord,
and the other two, who held the other end, drew Grimaud to them.
" Descend, my lord," said the man in the moat. " There are
only fifteen feet more from the top down here, and the grass is soft."
The duke had already begun to descend. His task was the
more difficult, as there was no board to support him. He was
obliged to let himself down by his hands, and from a height of
fifty feet. But, as we have said, he was active, strong, and full of
presence of mind. In less than five minutes he arrived at the end
of the cord. He was then only fifteen feet from the ground, as
the gentleman below had told him. He let go the rope, and fell
upon his feet, without receiving any injury.
He instantly began to climb up the slope of the moat, on the
top of which he met De Rochefort. The other two gentlemen
were unknown to him. Grimaud, in a swoon, was tied on to a
horse.'
" Gentlemen," said the duke, " I shall thank you later: now^we
have not a moment to lose. On, then ! on ! those who love me,
follow me !"
And he jumped on his horse, and set off on full gallop, drawing
in the fresh air, and crying out, with an expression of face which it
would be impossible to describe;
" Free! free i free!"
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE TIMELY ARRIVAL OF D'ARTAGNAN IN PARIS.
At Blois D'Artagnan received the money paid to him by Mazarin
for any future services he might render the Cardinal.
From Blois to Paris was a journey of four days for ordinary
travellers, but D'Artagnan arrived on the third day at the BarrRre
D'ARTAGNAN IN PARIS.
139
Saint Denis. In turning the corner Of the Rue Montmartre, in
order to reach the Rue Tiquetonne and the Hotel de la Chevrette,
where he had appointed Porthos to meet him, he saw, at one of
the windows of the hotel, his friend Porthos, dressed in a sky-blue
waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and gaping, till he showed all
down his throat j whilst the people passing by admiringly gazed at
this gentleman, so handsome and so rich, who seemed so weary
of his riches and his greatness.
Porthos, seeing D'Artagnan, hastened to receive him on the
threshold of the hotel.
" Ah ! my dear friend !" he cried, " what bad stabling for my
horses here !"
" Indeed !" said D'Artagnan ; "I am most unhappy to hear it,
on account of those fine animals."
" And I also—I was also wretchedly off," he answered, moving
backwards and forwards as he spoke—" and had it not been for
the hostess," he added, with his air of vulgar self-complacency,
" who is very agreeable, and understands a joke, I should have got
V lodging elsewhere."
"Yes, I understand," said D'Artagnan, "the air of La Rue
Tiquetonne is not like that of Pierrefonds; but console yourself,
I shall soon conduct you to one much better."
Then, taking Porthos aside :
" My dear De Valon," he said, " here you are in full dress most
fortunately, for I shall take you directly to the Cardinal's."
" Gracious me !—really !" cried Porthos, opening his great,
wondering eyes.
"Yes, my friend."
" A presentation ?—indeed 1"
" Does that alarm you ?"
" No ; but it agitates me."
" Oh ! don't be distressed ; you have not to deal with the other
Cardinal; and this one will not oppress you by his dignity."
"'Tis the same thing—you understand me, D'Artagnan—a court."
" There's no court ndw. Alas !"
" The queen !"
" I was going to say, there's no longer a queen. The queen !
Be assured we shall not see her."
" But you, my friend ; are you not going to change your dress?"
"No, I shall go as lam. This travelling dress will show the
Cardinal my haste to obey his commands."
They set out on Vulcan and Bayard, followed by Mousqueton
on Phcebus, and arrived at the Palais Royal at about a quarter to
140
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
seven. The streets were crowded, for it was the day of Pentecost
—and the crowd looked in wonder at these two cavaliers ; one as
fresh as if he had come out of a bandbox, the other so covered
with dust, that he looked as if he had come from a field of battle.
Mousqueton also attracted attention ; and as the romance of
Don Quixote was then the fashion, they said that he, was Sancho,
who, after having lost one master, had found two.
On reaching the palace, D'Artagnan sent in to his Eminence
the letter in which he had been ordered to return without delay.
He was soon ordered to enter into the presence of the Cardinal.
" Courage !" he whispered to Porthos, as they proceeded. " Do
not be intimidated. Believe me, the eye of the eagle is closed for
ever. We have only the vulture to deal with. Hold yourself up
as stiff as on the day of the bastion of Saint Gervais; and do not
bend too low to this Italian : that might give him a poor idea of us."
" Good !" answered Porthos. " Good !"
Mazarin was in his study, working at a list of pensions and bene-
fices, of which he was trying to reduce the number. He saw
D'Artagnan and Porthos enter with pleasure, yet showed no joy in
his countenance.
"Ah! you, is it? Monsieur le Lieutenant, you have been very
prompt. 'Tis well. Welcome to ye."
" Thanks, my lord. Here I am at your Eminence's service, as
well as Monsieur de Valon, one of my old friends, who used to
conceal his nobility under the name of Porthos."
Porthos bowed to the Cardinal.
"A magnificent cavalier," remarked Mazarin.
Porthos turned his head to the right and to the left, and drew
himself up with a movement full of dignity.
"The best swordsman in the kingdom, my lord," said D'Artagnan.
Porthos bowed to his friend.
Mazarin was as fond of fine soldiers as, in later times, Frederick
of Prussia used to be. He admired the strong hands, the broad
shoulders, and steady eye of Porthos. He seemed to see before
him the salvation of his administration, and of the kingdom, sculp-
tured in flesh and bone. He remembered that the old association
of Musketeers was composed of four persons.
" And your two other friends ?" he asked.
Porthos opened his mouth, thinking it a good opportunity to put
in a word in his turn; D'Artagnan checked him by a glance from
the corner of his eye.
"They are prevented at this moment, but will join us later."
Jvfazarin coughed a little.
PiARfAGNAN IN PARIS.
" And this gentleman, being disengaged, takes to the service
willingly ?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord, and from complete devotion to the cause, for
Monsieur de Bracieux is rich."
" Fifty thousand francs a-year," said Porthos.
These were the first words he had spoken.
" From pure zeal ?" resumed Mazarin, with his artful smile ;
" from pure zeal and devotion, then ?"
" My lord has, perhaps, no faith in that word," said D'Artagnan.
" Have you, Monsieur le Gascon ?" asked Mazarin, supporting
his elbows on his desk, and his chin on his hands.
" I," replied the Gascon, " I believe in devotion as a word at
one's baptism, for instance, which naturally comes before one's
proper name; every one is naturally more or less devout, certainly;
but there should be, at the end of one's devotion, something to gain."
" Your friend, therefore, what does he wish for as the reward ol
his devotion ?"
D'Artagnan was about to explain that the aim and end of the
zeal of Porthos, was, that one of his estates should be erected into
a barony, when a great noise was heard in the antechamber; at the
same time the door of the study was burst open, and a man, co-
vered with dust, rushed into it, exclaiming : .
" My lord the Cardinal! my lord the Cardinal!"
Mazarin thought that some one was going to assassinate him,
and he drew back, pushing his chair on the castors. D'Artagnan
and Porthos moved so as to plant themselves between the person
entering and the Cardinal.
, " Well, sir," exclaimed Mazarin, " what's the matter ? and why
do you rush in here as if you were just going into a market-place?'
" My lord," replied the messenger, " I wish to speak to your
Eminence in secret. I am Monsieur du Poins, an officer in the
guards, on duty at the donjon of Vincennes."
Mazarin, perceiving by the paleness and agitation of the mes-
senger that he had something of importance to say, made a sign
that D'Artagnan and Porthos should retire.
When they were alone :
" What I have to say is, my lord, that the Due de Beaufort has
contrived to escape from the Chateau of Vincennes."
Mazarin uttered a cry, and became paler than he who brought
this news. He fell, almost fainting, back in his chair.
" Escaped ? Monsieur de Beaufort escaped ?"
" My lord, I saw him run off from the top of the terrace."
" And you did not fire on him ?"
142 TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"He was beyond reach of a shot."
" Monsieur de Chavigny—where was he ?"
''Absent."
" And La Ramee ?"
" He was found locked up in the prisoner's room, a gag in iis
mouth, and a poignard near him."
" But the man who was under him ?"
"Was an accomplice of the duke's, and escaped with him."
Mazarin groaned.
"My lord," said D'Artagnan, advancing towards the Cardinal,
"it seems to me that your Eminence is losing precious time. It
may still be ppssible to trace the prisoner. f France is large; the
nearest frontier is sixty leagues distant."
" And who is to pursue him ?" cried Mazarin.
" I! Egad ! if my lord orders me to pursue the devil, I would
do so, and seize him by the horns and bring him back again."
" And I, too," said Porthos.
" Go, then; take what guards you find here, and pursue him."
" You command us, my lord, to do so ?"
"And I sign my orders," said Mazarin, taking a piece of
paper, and writing some lines; " Monsieur de Valon, your barony
is on the back of the Due de Beaufort's horse; you have nothing
to do but to overtake it. As for you, my dear lieutenant, I promise
you nothing; but if you bring him back to me, dead or alive, yQU
shall ask all you wish."
"To horse, Porthos !" said D'Artagnan, taking his friend by the
hand.
" Here I am," replied Porthos, with his sublime composure.
They descended the great staircase, taking with them all the
guards that they found on their road, and crying out, "To horse!
To horse!" and they spurred on their horses, which set off along
the Rue St. Honore with the speed of a whirlwind.
" Well, baron ! I promised you some good exercise !" said the
Gascon.
"Yes, my captain."
As they went, the citizens, awakened, left their doors, and the
fierce dogs followed the cavaliers, barking. At the corner of the
Cimetiere Saint Jean, D'Artagnan upset a man: it was too slight
an occurrence to delay people so eager to get on. The troop con-
tinued its course as if their steeds were winged.
Alas ! there are no unimportant events in this world! and, we
shall see, that this apparently slight one was near endangering the
monarchy.
AN ADVENTURE ON THE HIGHROAD.
143
CHAPTER XXV.
an adventure on the high road.
The Musketeers rode the whole length of the Faubourg St. An-
toine, and of the road to Vincennes, and soon found themselves
out of the town, then in a forest, and then in sight of a village.
From the top of an eminence D'Artagnan perceived a group of
people collected on the other side of the moat, in front of that
part of the donjon which looks towards Saint Maur. He rode on,
convinced that he should in that direction gain intelligence of the
fugitive; and he learned from the people that composed that
group, that the duke had been pursued without success; that his
party consisted of four able men, and one wounded, and that
they were two hours and a quarter in advance of their pursuers.
" Only four !" cried D'Artagnan, looking at Porthos; " baron,
only four of them !"
•. Porthos smiled.
" And only two hours and a quarter before us, and we so well
mounted, Porthos !"
Porthos sighed, and thought of all that was awaiting his poor
horses.
The troop then pursued their course with their wonted ardour
but some of them could no longer sustain this rapidity; three of
them stopped after an hour's march, and one fell down.
D'Artagnan, who never turned his head, did not perceive it.
Porthos told him of it in his calm manner.
" If we can only keep two," said D'Artagnan, "it will be enough,
since the duke's troop are only four in number."
And he spurred his horse on.
At the end of another two hours the horses had gone twelve
leagues without stopping; their legs began to tremble; and the
foam that they shed whitened the doublets of their masters.
" Let us rest here an instant to give these miserable creatures
breathing time," said Porthos
" Let us rather kill them ! yes, kill them !" cried D'Artagnan ;
" I see fresh tracks; 'tis not a quarter of an hour since they passed
this place."
In fact, the road was trodden by horses' feet, visible even in the
approaching gloom of evening.
They set out; after a run of two leagues, Mousqueton's horse
sank.
144
TWENTY YEARS JETER.
"Gracious me !" said Porthos, "there's Phoebus ruined."
"The Cardinal will pay you a hundred pistoles."
" I'm above that.
" Let us set out then again, on a full gallop."
"Yes, if we can."
But, at last, the lieutenant's horse refused to go on; he could
not breathe; one last spur, instead of making him advance, made
him fall.
"The devil!" exclaimed Porthos, " there's Vulcan foundered."
" Zounds !" cried D'Artagnan, " we must then stop ! Give me
your horse, Porthos ! What the devil are you doing ?"
"By Jove, I am falling, or rather Bayard is falling," answered
Porthos.
All three then called out, " All's over."
" Hush !" said D'Artagnan.
" What is it ?"
" I hear a horse, 'tis on before; it is at a hundred steps from
hence, and in'advance of us."
There was, in truth, the neighing of a horse heard.
"Sir," said Mousqueton, "at a hundred steps from us there's a
little hunting seat."
"Mousqueton, my pistols."
"They are in my hand, sir."
"Porthos, keep yours in your saddle bags."
"I have them."
"Now, we require horses for the king's service."
" For the king's service," repeated Porthos.
" Then not a word, and to work !"
They went on, through the night, silent as phantoms; they saw
a light shine in the midst of some trees.
"There is the house, Porthos," said the Gascon;'"let me do
what I please, and dQ you do what I do."
They glided from tree to tree, till they arrived at twenty steps
from the house unperceived, and saw, by means of a lanthorn.sus-
pended under a hut, four fine horses. A groom was rubbing them
down; near them were saddles and bridles.
" I want to buy thy horses," said D'Artagnan, approaching the
•groom.
" These horses are not to be sold," was the reply.
" I take them, then," said the lieutenant.
And he took hold of one within his reach ; his two companions'
did the same thing.
"Sir," cried the grodm, "they have just been six leagues, and
have only been unharnessed about half an hour."
AN ADVENTURE ON THE HIGH ROAD. 14S
" Half an hour's rest is enough," replied the Gascon.
The groom called aloud for help. A kind of steward appeared,
just as D'Artagnan and his companions were prepared to mount.
The steward wished to expostulate.
" My dear friend," cried the lieutenant, " if you say a word I
will blow out your brains."
" But sir," answered the steward, " do you know that these
horses belong to Monsieur de Montbazon ?"
"So much the better; they must be good animals, then."
"Sir, I shall call my people."
" And I mine ; I've ten guards behind me ; don't you hear them
gallop; and I'm one of the king's Musketeers; come Porthos,
come Mouston."
They all mounted the horses as quickly as possible.
" Here ! here !" cried the steward; " the house servants with
the carabines."
" On ! on !" cried D'Artagnan " there'll be firing ! on !"
They all set off, swift as the winds.
" Here !" cried the steward, " here !" whilst the groom ran to a
neighbouring building.
" Take care of your horses," said D'Artagnan to him.
" Fire !" replied the steward.
A gleam, like a flash of lightning, illumined the road, and, with
the flash, was heard the whistling of balls, which were fired in the air.
" They fire like grooms," said Porthos; " in the time of the
Cardinal, people fired better than that; do you remember the road
to Crevecoeur, Mousqueton ?"
" Ah, sir ! my left side still pains me."
" Are you sure we are on the right track, lieutenant ?"
" Egad, didn't you hear—these horses belong to Monsieur de
Montbazon: well, Monsieur de Montbazon is the husband of
Madame de Montbazon "
" And "
"And Madame de Montbazon is the mistress of the Due de
Beaufort."
" Ah ! I understand," replied Porthos; " she has ordered relays
of horses."
" Exactly so."
" And we are pursuing the duke with the very horses he has
just left ?"
"My dear Porthos, you are reallya manof superior understanding,"
said D'Artagnan, with a look as if he spoke against his conviction.
"Pooh !" said Porthos, "I am what I am."
10
146
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
They rode on for an hour, till the horses were covered with
foam and dust.
" Zounds ! what is yonder ?" cried D'Artagnan.
" You are very lucky, if you see anything in such a night as
this," said Porthos.
"Something bright"
" I, too," cried Mousqueton, " saw them also."
"Yes, a dead horse," said D'Artagnan, pulling up his horse,
which shied : " it seems that they also are broken-winded as well
as ourselves."
" I seem to hear the noise of a troop of horsemen," exclaimed
Porthos, leaning over his horse's mane.
" Impossible!"
"They appear to be numerous."
"Then, 'tis something else."
" Another horse !" said Porthos.
" Dead ?"
"No; dying."
"Saddled?"
"Yes, saddled and bridled."
" Then'tis the fugitives."
" Courage, we have them !"
" But, if they are numerous," observed Mousqueton, " 'tis not
we who have them, but they who have us."
"Nonsense!" cried D'Artagnan, "they'll suppose us to be
stronger than themselves, as we're in pursuit, they'll be afraid, and
disperse."
" Certainly," remarked Porthos.
" Ah ! do you see ?" cried the lieutenant.
^ The lights again ! this time I too saw them," said Porthos.
" On ! on ! forward ! forward !" cried D'Artagnan, in his sten-
torian voice, "we shall laugh over all'this in five minutes."
And they darted on anew. The horses, excited by pain and
emulation, raced over the dark road, in the midst of which was
now seen a moving mass, more dense and obscure than the rest
of the horizon.
CHAPTER XXVI.
the rencontre.
They rode on in this way for ten minutes. Suddenly, two dark
forms seemed to separate from the mass, advanced, grew in size,
THE RENCONTRE.
147
and, as they grew larger and larger, assumed the appearance of
two horsemen,
" Oh, oh !" cried D'Artagnan, "they're coming towards us."
" So much the worse for them," said Porthos.
" Who goes there ?" cried a hoarse voice.
The three horsemen made no reply, stopped not, and all that
was heard was the noise of swords, drawn from the scabbards,
and of the cocking of the pistols, with which the two phantoms
were armed.
Arm to the teeth," said D'Artagnan.
Porthos understood him, and he and the lieutenant each one
took from his left hand a pistol, and armed himself each in his
turn.
"Who goes there?" was asked a second time. "Not a step
forwarder, or you're dead men ?"
" Stuff!" cried Porthos, almost choked with dust. " Stuff and
nonsense ! we have seen plenty of dead men in our time."
Hearing these words, the two shadows blockaded the road, and
by the light of the stars might be seen the shining of their arms.
" Back !" cried D'Artagnan; " or you are dead !"
Two shots were the reply to this threat; but the assailants at-
tacked their foes with such, velocity that in a moment they were
upon them; a third pistol-shot was heard, aimed by D'Artagnan;
and one of his adversaries fell. As to Porthos he assaulted his
with such violence, that although his sword was thrust aside, the
enemy was thrown off his horse, and fell about ten steps from it.
" Finish ! Mouston—finish the work !" cried Porthos. And he
darted on, beside his friend, who had already begun a fresh
pursuit.
" Well ?" said Porthos.
" I've broken his skull," cried D'Artagnan. "And you "
" I've only thrown him down ; but hark !"
Another shot of a carabine was heard. It was Mousqueton,
who was obeying his master's command.
" On! on !" cried D'Artagnan; " all goes well! we have the
first throw."
"Ha! ha!" answered Porthos; "behold, other players appear."
And, in fact, two other cavaliers made their appearance detached,
as it seemed, from the principal group • they again disputed the
road.
This time the lieutenant did not wait for the opposite party to
speak.
" Stand aside," he cried; " stand off the road."
10—2
148
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" What do you want ?" asked a voice.
" The duke !" Porthos and D'Artagnan roared out both at once.
A burst of laughter was the answer, but finished with a groan.
D'Artagnan had, with his sword, cut the poor wretch in two who
had laughed.
At the same time Porthos and his adversary fired on each other,
and D'Artagnan turned to him :
" Bravo !—you've killed him, I think."
"No, wounded his horse only."
" But what ails my horse ?"
"What ails your horse is, that he's falling down," replied Porthos.
In truth, the lieutenant's horse stumbled, and fell on his knees;
then a rattling in his throat was heard, and he lay down to die.
D'Artagnan swore loud enough to be heard in the skies above,
" Does your honour want a horse ?" asked Mousqueton.
" Zounds ! want one ?" cried the Gascon.
" Here's one, your honour "
" How the devil hast thou two horses ?" asked D'Artagnan, jump'
ing on one of them.
" Their masters are dead ! I thought they might be useful, so
I took them."
Meantime Porthos had reloaded his pistols.
"Be on the alert!" cried D'Artagnan. "Here are two other
cavaliers."
As he spoke two horsemen advanced at full speed.
"Ho! your honour," cried Mosaueton, "the man you upset is
getting up."
"Why didn't thou do as thou didst to^the first man?" said
Porthos
" I held the horses, my hands were full, your honour."
A shot was fired that moment—Mousqueton shrieked with pain.
" Ah, sir ! I'm hit in the other side ! exactly in the other ! This
hurt is just the fellow of that I had on the road to Amiens."
Porthos turned round like a lion—plunged on the dismounted
cavalier, who tried to draw his sword; but, before it was out of
the scabbard, Porthos, with the hilt of his, had hit him such a ter-
rible blow on the head, that he fell like an ox beneath the butcher's
knife.
Mousqueton, groaning, slipped down from his horse—his wound
not allowing him to sit in his saddle.
On perceiving the cavaliers, D'Artagnan had stopped and
charged his pistol afresh; besides, his horse, he found, had a car-
bine on the bow of the saddle.
THE RENCONTRE.
149
" Here I am !" exclaimed Porthos. " Shall we wait, or shall we
charge ?"
" Let us charge them," answered the Gascon.
" Charge !" said Porthos.
They spurred on their horses; the other cavaliers were only
twenty steps from them.
" Eor the king !" cried D'Artagnan.
" The king has no authority here!" answered a deep voice,
which seemed to proceed from a cloud—so enveloped was the
cavalier in a whirlwind of dust.
" 'Tis well; we will see if the king's name is not a passport
everywhere," replied the Gascon.
" See !" answered the voice.
Two shots were fired at once; one by D'Artagnan," the other by
the adversary of Porthos. D'Artagnan's ball took off his enemy's
hat. The ball fired by Porthos's foe went through the throat of
his horse, which fell, groaning.
" Ah! this," cried the voice, the tone of which was at once
piercing and jeering—" this ! 'tis nothing but a butchery of horses,
and not a combat between men. To the sword, sir!—the sword !"
And he jumped off his horse.
" To our swords !—be it so !" replied D'Artagnan—" that's just
what I want."
D'Artagnan, in two steps, was engaged with the foe, whom, ac-
cording to his custom, he attacked impetuously; but he met this
time with a skill and a strength of arm which made him pause.
Twice he was obliged to step back; his opponent stirred not one
inch. D'Artagnan returned, and again attacked him.
Twice or thrice blows were struck on both sides without effect;
sparks were emitted from the swords, like water spouting out.
At last D'Artagnan thought it was time to try one of his favourite
feints in fencing. He brought it to bear ; skilfully executed it with
the rapidity of lightning; and struck the blow with a force which
he fancied would prove irresistible.
The blow was parried.
" Sdeath !" he cried, with his Gascon accent.
At this exclamation his adversary bounded back, and, bending
his bare head, tried to distinguish in the gloom, the features of
the lieutenant.
As to D'Artagnan, afraid of some feint, he still stood on the
defensive.
" Have a care," cried Porthos to his opponent; " I've still two
pistols charged."
TWENTY YEATS AETER.
" The more reason you should fire the first," cried his foe.
Porthos fired; a flash threw a gleam of light over the field of
battle.
As the light shone on them, a cry was heard from the other two
combatants.
" Athos !" exclaimed D'Artagnan.
" D'Artagnan !" ejaculated Athos.
Athos raised his sword—D'Artagnan lowered his.
" Aramis !" cried Athos—" don't fire !"
" Ha ! ha! is it you, Aramis ?" said Porthos.
And he threw away his pistol.
Aramis pushed his back into his saddle bags, and sheathed his
sword.
" My son !" exclaimed Athos, extending his hand to D'Artagnan.
This was the name which he gave him in former days—in their
moments of tender intimacy.
" Athos !" cried D'Artagnan, wringing his hands. " So you de-
fend him ! And I, who have sworn to' take him dead or alive, I
am dishonoured—Ah !"
" Kill me!" replied Athos, uncovering his breast, " if your
honour requires my death."
" Oh ! woe's me ! woe's me !" cried the lieutenant; " there's
only one man in the world who could stay my hand; by a fatality
that very man comes across my way. What shall I say to the
Cardinal ?"
" You can tell him, sir," answered a voice, which was a voice
of high command in that battle-field, " that he sent against me
the only two men capable of getting the better of four men;—of
fighting man to man, without discomfiture against the Count de la
Fere and the Chevalier D'Herblay, and of surrendering only to
fifty men !"
" The prince!" exclaimed at the same moment Athos and
Aramis, unmasking as they spoke; " the Due de Beaufort!" whilst
D'Artagnan and Porthos stepped backwards.
" Fifty cavaliers !" cried the Gascon and Porthos.
" Look round you, gentlemen, if you doubt the facts," said the
duke.
The two friends looked to the right—to the left; they were en-
compassed by a troop of horsemen.
" Hearing the noise of the fight," resumed the duke, " I fancied
you had about twenty men with you, so I came back with those
around me, tired of always running away, and wishing to draw my
sword for my own cause; but you are only two."
THE RENCONTRE.
" Yes, my lord; but, as you have said, two equal to twenty,"
said Athos.
" Come, gentlemen, your swords," said the duke.
" Our swords !" cried D'Artagnan, raising his head and regaining
his self-possession—" Never !"
"Never," added Porthos.
Some of the men moved towards them.
" One moment, my lord," whispered Athos; and he said some-
thing in a low voice.
" As you will," replied the duke. " I am too much indebted to
you to refuse your first request. Gentlemen," he said to his
escort, "withdraw. Monsieur d'Artagnan, Monsieur de Valon,
you are free."
The order was obeyed; D'Artagnan and Porthos then found
themselves in the centre of a large circle.
" Now, D'Herblay," said Athos, " dismount, and come here."
Aramisdismounted, and went to Porthos; while Athos approached
D'Artagnan. All the four were together.
" Friends !" said Athos; " do you regret that you have not shed
our blood ?"
" No," replied D'Artagnan; " I regret to see that we, hitherto
united, are opposed to each other. Ah ! nothing will ever go well
with us now !"
" Oh ! heaven ! No, all is over !" said Porthos.
" Well—be on our side now," resumed Aramis.
" Silence, D'Herblay !" cried Athos ; "such proposals'are not to
be made to gentlemen such as these. 'Tis a matter of conscience
with them, as with us."
" Meantime, here we are, enemies !" said Porthos. " Gram-
mercy ! who would ever have thought it ?"
D'Artagnan only sighed.
Athos looked at them both, and took their hands in his.
" Gentlemen !" he said, " this is a serious business, and my
heart bleeds as if you had pierced it through and through. Yes,
we are severed; there is the great—the sad truth ! but we have
not as yet declared war; perhaps we shall have to make certain
conditions, therefore a solemn conference is indispensable."
"For my own part, I demand it," said Aramis.
" I accept it," interposed D'Artagnan, proudly.
Porthos bowed, as if in assent.
"Let us choose a place of rendezvous," continued Athos; "and,
in a last interview, arrange our mutual position, and the conduct
we are to maintain towards each other."
y WENTy YEARS AFTER.
" Good !" the other three exclaimed.
" Well, then, the place ?"
" Will the Place Royale suit you ?" asked D'Artagnan,
" In'Paris ?"
"Yes."
Athos and Aramis looked at each other.
"The Place Royale—be it so F replied Athos.
" When ?"
" To-morrow evening, if you please."
" At what hour ?" (
" At ten in the evening if that suits you—we shall be returned,"
"Good."
" There," continued Athos, " either peace or war will be de-
cided—our honour, at all events, will be secured."
" Alas !" murmured D'Artagnan, " our honour as soldiers is
lost to us for ever ! Now, Porthos ; now we must hence, to bear
back our shame on our heads to the Cardinal."
" And tell him," cried a voice, " that I am not too old to be still
a man of action."
D'Artagnan recognised the voice of De Rochefort.
" Can I do anything for you, gentlemen," asked the duke.
" Be a witness that we have done what we have done."
" That shall be done, be assured. Adieu ! we shall meet soon,
I trust, in Paris, where you shall have your revenge."
The duke, as he spoke, kissed his hand, spurred his horse into
a gallop, and disappeared, followed by his troop, who were soon
lost in distance and darkness.
D'Artagnan and Porthos were now alone with a man who held their
two horses; they thought it was Mousqueton, and went up to him.
" What do I see ?" cried the lieutenant. " Grimaud, is it thou?"
Grimaud signified that he was not mistaken.
" And whose horses are these ?" cried D'Artagnan.
" Who has given them to us ?" said Porthos.
"The Count de la Fere."
" Athos ! Athos !" muttered D'Artagnan, " you think of every-
one; you are indeed a gentleman ! Where art thou bound to
Grimaud ?"
"To join the Vicomte de Bragelonne in Flanders, your honour."
They were taking the road towards Paris, when groans, which
seemed to proceed from a ditch, attracted their attention.
" What is that ?" asked D'Artagnan.
" It is I, Mousqueton," said a mournful voice, while a sort of
shadow arose out of the side of the road.
THE RENCONTRE.
153
Porthos ran to hira. " Art thou dangerously wounded, my deal
Mouston ?" he said.
" No, sir, but I am severely wounded."
" What can we do ?" said D'Artagnan; " we must return to
Paris."
" I will take care of Mousqueton," said Grimaud ; and he gave
his arm to his old comrade, whose eyes were full of tears, and
Grimaud could not tell whether the tears were caused by his
wounds, or by the pleasure of seeing him again.
D'Artagnan and Porthos went on, meantime, to Paris. They
were passed by a sort of courier, covered with dust, the bearer of
a letter from the duke to the Cardinal, giving testimony to the
valour of D'Artagnan and Porthos.
Mazarin had passed a very bad night, when this letter was
brought to him, announcing that the duke was free, and that he
should henceforth raise up a mortal strife against him.
-"What consoles me," said the Cardinal, after reading the letter,
" is, that at least, in this chase, D'Artagnan has done me one good
turn—he has destroyed Broussel. This Gascon is a precious fellow
,—even his mishaps are useful."
The Cardinal referred to that man whom D'Artagnan upset at
the corner of the Cimetiere Saint Jean, in Paris, and who was no
other than the Councillor Broussel.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE POUR OLD friends prepare to meet again.
" Well," said Porthos, seated in the court-yard of the Hotel de la
Chevrette, to D'Artagnan, who with a long and melancholy face had
returned from the Palais Royal, " did he receive you ungraciously,
my dear friend ?"
" 'Ifaith, yes ! a hideous brute that Cardinal—what are you
eating there, Porthos ?"
" I am dipping a biscuit into a glass of Spanish wine—do the
same."
"You are right. Gimblon, a glass of wine !"
" Well! how has all gone off ?"
" Zounds ! you know there's only one way of saying things; so
I went in and I said : ' My lord, we were not the strongest party.'
"(Yes, I know that,' he said, * but tell me the particulars.'
t$4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"You krlow, Porthos, I could not give him the particulars with-
out naming our friends—to name them would be to commit them
to ruin, so I merely said they were fifty and we were two."
" ' There was firing, nevertheless, I heard,' he said ; ' and your
swords, they saw the light of day, I presume ?'
" ' That is, the night, my lord,' I answered.
"' Air!' cried the Cardinal; ' I thought you were a Gascon, my
friend.'
"'I am only a Gascon,' said I, 'when I succeed.' So the
answer pleased, and he laughed."
" Well, not so bad a reception as I thought," remarked Porthos.
"No, no, but 'tis the manner in which he spoke. Gimblon,
another bottle of wine—'tis almost incredible what a quantity of
wine these biscuits will hold."
" Hem—didn't he mention me ?" inquired Porthos.
" Ah! yes, indeed!" cried D'Artagnan, who was afraid of dis-
heartening his friend by telling him that the Cardinal had not
breathed a word about him ; " yes, surely ! he said "
" He said ?" resumed Porthos.
" Stop, I want to remember his exact words. He said, as to your
friend, tell him that he may sleep in peace."
" Good, very good," said Porthos; " that means as clear as day-
light that he intends still to make me a baron."
At this moment nine o'clock struck. D'Artagnan started.
" Ah, yes," said Porthos; " there is nine o'clock. We have a
rendezvous, you remember, at the Place Royale."
" Ah ! stop ! hold your peace, Porthos—don't remind me of it,
'tis that which has made me so cross since yesterday. I shall not go."
"Why," asked Porthos.
" Why, suppose this appointment is only a blind ? That there's
something hidden beneath it ?"
D'Artagnan did not believe Athos to be capable of a deception,
but he sought an excuse for not going to the rendezvous.
" We must go," said the superb lord of Bracieux, " lest they
should say we were afraid. We, who have faced fifty foes on the
high road, can well meet two in the Place Royale."
" Yes, yes, but they took part with the princes without apprising
us of.it—perhaps the duke may try to catch us in his turn."
" Nonsense ! He had us in his power, and let us go. Besides,
we can be on our guard—let us take arms, and let Planchet go
with us with his carbine."
" Planchet is a Frondeur," answered D'Artagnan.
" Devil take these civil wars ! one can no more reckon on one's
the-four old friends.
friends than on one's footmen," said Porthos ; " ah, if Mousqueton
were here ! there's one who will never desert me !"
" So long as you are rich ! ah ! my friend! 'tis not civil war
that disunites us ! It is that we are, each of us, twenty years older;
it is that the honest emotions of youth have given place to the
suggestions of interest—to the whispers of ambition—to the counsels
of selfishness. Yes, you are right—let us go, Porthos ! but let us
go well armed—were we not to go they would say we were afraid.
Hollo ! Planchet, here ! saddle our horses—take your carbine."
" Whom are we going to attack, sir ?"
"No one—a mere matter of precaution," answered the Gascon.
" You know, sir, that they wished to murder that good Councillor
Broussel, the father of the people ?"
" Really, did they ?" said D'Artagnan.
"Yes, but he has been avenged. He was carried home in the
arms of the people. His house has been full ever since. He has
received visits from the Coadjutor, from Madame de Longueville,
and the Prince de Conti—Madame de Chevreuse and Madame de
Vendome have left their names at his door." -
" How did you hear this ?" inquired D'Artagnan.
" From a good source, sir—I heard it from Friquet."
" From Friquet ? I know that name " /
" A son of Monsieur de Broussel's servant, and a lad that I
promise you, in a revolt, will not cast away his share to the dogs."
" Is he not a singing boy at Notre Dame ?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Yes, that's he, patronised by Bazin."
" Ah, yes, I know."
" What importance is this reptile of to you ?" asked Porthos.
" Gad !" replied D'Artagnan ; " he has already given me good
information, and he may do the same again."
Whilst all this was going on, Athos and Aramis were entering
Paris by the Faubourg St. Antoine. They had taken some refresh-
ment on the road, and hastened on that they might not fail at the
rendezvous. Bazin was their only attendant, for Grimaud had
stayed behind to take care of Mousqueton. As they were passing
onwards, Athos proposed that they should lay aside their arms and
military costume, and assume a dress suited to the city.
" Oh, no, dear count 1" cried Aramis, " is it not a warlike en-
counter that we are going to ?"
" What do you mean, Aramis ?"
" That the Place Royale is the termination to the main road to
Vendomois, and nothing else."
, " How, our friends ?"
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Are become our most dangerous enemies, Athos; let us be
on our guard."
" Oh ! my dear d'Herblay !"
" Who can say whether D'Artagnan has not betrayed us to the
Cardinal ? who can tell whether Mazarin may not take advantage
of this rendezvous and seize us ?"
Athos folded his arms, and his noble head fell drooping on his
chest.
" What do you expect, Athos ?" pursued Aramis; " such are
men, and, remember, they are not always twenty years of age ; let
us take precautions, Athos !"
" But suppose they come unarmed ? what a- disgrace to us."
" Oh, never fear ! besides, if they do, we can make an excuse;
we come straight from a journey, and are insurgents, also."
" An excuse for us ! to meet D'Artagnan with a false excuse ! to
have to make a false excuse to Porthos ! Oh, Aramis !" continued
Athos, shaking his head mournfully, " upon my soul, you make
me the most miserable of men; you disenchant a heart not wholly
dead to friendship. Go in whatsoever guise you will, for my part
I shall go disarmed."
" No, for I will not allow you to do so. 'Tis not one man, 'tis
not Athos only, 'tis not the Count de la Fere, whom you will ruin
by this weakness, but a whole party to whom you belong, and who
depend upon you."
" Be it then so," replied Athos, sorrowfully.
And they pursued their road in mournful silence.
Scarcely had they reached by the Rue de la Mule—the iron
gate of the Place Royale—than they perceived three cavaliers,
D'Artagnan, Porthos, and Planchet, the two former wrapped up in
their military cloaks, under which their swords were hidden, and
Planchet, his musket by his side. They were waiting at the
entrance of the Rue St. Catherine, and their horses were fastened
to the rings of the arcade. Athos, therefore, commanded Bazin to
fasten up his horse and that of Aramis in the same manner.
They then advanced, two and two, and saluted each other politely.
"Now, where will it be agreeable to you that we hold our con-
ference ?" inquired Aramis, perceiving that people were stopping
to look at them, supposing that they were going to engage in one
of those far-famed duels still extant in the memory of the Parisians
—and especially the inhabitants of the Place Royale.
" The gate is shut," said Aramis, " but if these gentlemen like a
cool retreat, under the trees, and a perfect seclusion, I will get the
key from the Hotel de Rohan, and we shall be well situated."
THE FOUR OLD FRIENDS.
57
D'Artagnan darted a look into the obscurity of the place.
Porthos ventured to put his head between the railings, to try if his
glance could penetrate the gloom.
" If you prefer any other place," said Athos, in his persuasive
voice, "choose for yourselves."
" This place, if Monsieur d'Herblay can' procure the key, is the
best that we can have," was the answer.
Aramis went off at once, begging Athos not to remain alone
within reach of D'Artagnan and Porthos; a piece of advice which
was received with a contemptuous smile.
Aramis returned soon with a man from the Hotel de Rohan,
who was saying to him •:
" You swear, sir, that it is not so ?"
" Stop," and Aramis gave him a louis d'or.
" Ah! you will not swear, my master," said the concierge,
shaking his head.
" Well, one can never say what may happen; at present these
gentlemen are our friends."
" Yes, certainly," added Athos, " and the other two "
" You hear that ?" said D'Artagnan to Porthos; " he vton't swear."
"No?"
"No; caution, therefore."
Athos did not lose sight of these two speakers. Aramis opened
the gate, and faced round in order that D'Artagnan and Porthos
might enter. In passing through the gate, the hilt of the lieu-
tenant's sword was caught in the grating, and he was obliged to
pull off his cloak; in doing so he showed the' butt-end of his
pistols, and a ray of the moon was reflected on the shining metal.
" Do you see ?" whispered Aramis to Athos, touching his
shoulder with one hand, and pointing with the other to the arms
which the Gascon wore under his belt.
; " Alas, I do !" replied Athos, with a deep sigh.
He entered third, and Aramis, who shut the gate after him, last.
The two serving-men waited without, but, as if they likewise mis-
trusted each other, kept their respective distances.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
the place royale.
They proceeded silently to the centre of the Place; but as at this
very moment the moon had just emerged from behind a cloud, it
158
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
was considered that they might be observed if they remained on
that spot, and they regained the shade of the lime-trees.
There were benches here and there—the four gentlemen stopped
near them; at a sign from Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan sat
down, the two others stood in front of them.
After a few minutes of silent embarrassment, Athos spoke.
"Gentlemen," he said, "our presence here is a proof of our.
former friendship; not one of us has failed at this rendezvous;
not one has, therefore, to reproach himself."
" Hear me, count," replied D'Artagnan; " instead of making
compliments to each other, let us explain our conduct to each
other, like men of right and honest hearts."
" I wish for nothing more; have you any cause of anger against
me or Monsieur D'Herblay ? If so, speak out," answered Athos.
" I have," replied D'Artagnan. " When I saw you at your
chateau at Bragelonne, I made certain proposals to you, which
you perfectly understood; instead of answering me as a friend,
you played with me as a child : the friendship, therefore, that you
boast of was not broken yesterday by the shock of our swords, but
by your dissimulation at your castle."
" D'Artagnan !" said Athos, reproachfully.
"You asked for candour—there it is. You ask what I have
against you—I say it. And I have the same sincerity to show
you, if you wish, Monsieur D'Herblay; I acted in a similar way to
you, and you also deceived me ; I reproach you with nothing, how-
ever; 'tis only because Monsieur de la Fere has spoken of friend-
ship that I question your conduct."
"And what do you find in it to blame?" asked Aramis,
haughtily.
The blood mounted instantly to the temples of D'Artagnan,
who rose, and replied :
" I consider it the conduct of a pupil of Jesuits."
On seeing D'Artagnan rise, Porthos rose also; these four men
were, therefore, all standing at the same time, with a menacing
aspect, opposite to each other.
Upon hearing D'Artagnan's reply, Aramis seemed about to draw
his sword, when Athos prevented him.
"D'Artagnan," he said, "you come here to-night, still infu-
riated by our yesterday's adventure. I believed that your heart
was sufficiently noble to enable a friendship of twenty years to be
stronger than an affront of a quarter of an hour. Come, do you
really think you have anything to say against me ? say it then, if
I am in fault, I will avow my fault."
THE PLACE ROY ALE,
159
The grave and harmonious tones of that beloved voice had still
over D'Artagnan its ancient influence, whilst that of Aramis,
which had become sharp and screaming in his moments of ill-
humour, irritated him. He answered therefore :
" I think, Monsieur le Comte, that you had something to com-
municate to me at youf chateau of Bragelonne, and that gentle-
man"—he pointed to Aramis—" had also something to tell me,
when I was in his convent. At that time I was not concerned in
the adventure during which you barricaded the road that I was
going; however, because I was prudent, you must not take me
for a fool. If I had wished to widen the breach between those
whom Monsieur D'Herblay chooses to receive with a rope-ladder,
and those whom he receives with a wooden ladder, I could have
spoken out."
" What are you meddling with ?" cried Aramis, pale with anger,
suspecting that D'Artagnan had acted as a spy on him,' and had
seen him with Madame de Longueville.
" I never meddle but with what concerns me, and I know how
to make belief that I haven't seen what does not concern me; but
I hate hypocrites, and, among that number, I place musketeers
who are abbes, and abbes who are musketeers • and," he added,
turning to Porthos, " here's a gentleman who is of the same opinion
as myself."
Porthos, who had not spoken one word, answered merely by a
word and a gesture.
He said " yes," and he put his hand on his sword. Aramis
started back, and drew his. D'Artagnan bent forward, ready either
to attack, or to stand on his defence.
Athos, at that moment, extended his hand with the air of
supreme command which characterised him alone, drew out his
sword and the scabbard at the same time, broke the blade in the
sheath on his knee, and threw the pieces to his right. Then turn-
ing to Aramis:
t "Aramis," he said, "break your sword in two."
Aramis hesitated.
" It must be done," said Athos; then in a lower and more
gentle voice, he added, " I wish it."
Then Aramis, paler than before, but subdued by these words,
broke the flexible blade with his hands, and then, folding his arms,
stood trembling with rage.
These proceedings made D'Artagnan and Porthos draw back.
D'Artagnan did not draw his sword; Porthos put his back into the
sheath,
i6o
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Never!" exclaimed Athos, raising his right hand to heaven,
" Never ! I swear before God, who seeth us, and who in the dark-
ness of this night heareth us, never shall my sword cross yours,
never my eye cast a glance of anger, nor my heart a throb of
hatred, to you. We lived together, we loved, we hated together;
we shed, we mingled our blood together, and, too probably, I may
still add, that there may be yet a bond between us closer even than
that of friendship—perhaps there may be the bond of crime; for
we four, we once did condemn, judge, and slay a human being
whom we had not any right to cut off from this world, although ap-
parently fitter for hell than for this life. D'Artagnan, I have always
loved you as my son; Porthos, we slept six years side by side;
Aramis is your brother as well as mine, and Aramis has once
loved you, as I love you now, and as I have ever loved you. What
can Cardinal Mazarin be to us, who' compelled such a man as
Richelieu to act as we pleased ? What is such or such a prince to
us, who have fixed on the queen's head the crown ? D'Artagnan,
I ask your pardon for having yesterday crossed swords with you;
Aramis does the same to Porthos: now, hate me if you can; but,
for my own part, I shall ever, even if you do hate me, retain
esteem and friendship for you; repeat my words, Aramis, and
then, if you desire it, and if they desire it, let us separate for ever
from our old friends."
There was a solemn, though momentary, silence, which was
broken by Aramis.
"I swear," he said, with a calm brow, and kindly glance, but in
a voice still trembling with recent emotion, " I swear that I
no longer bear animosity to those who were once my friends. I
regret that I ever crossed swords with you, Porthos: I swear not
only that it shall never again be pointed at your breast, but that in
the bottom of my heart there will never in future be the slightest
hostile sentiment; now, Athos, come."
Athos was about to retire.
" Oh! no! no! do not go away !" cried D'Artagnan, impelled
by one of those irresistible impulses which showed the ardour of
his nature, and the native uprightness of his character: "I swear
that I would shed the last drop of my blood, and the last frag-
ment of my limbs, to preserve the friendship of such a man as
you, Athos—of such a man as you, Aramis." And he threw him-
self into the arms of Athos.
" My son !" exclaimed Athos, pressing him in his arms.
" And as for me!" said Porthos, " I swear nothing, but I'm
choked—forsooth ! If I were obliged to fight against you, I think
THE PLACE ROYALE.
161
I should allow myself to be pierced through and through—for I
never loved any one but you in the worldand honest Porthos
burst into tears, as he embraced Athos.
" My friends," said Athos, " this is what I expected from such
hearts as yours—yes—I have said it, and I now repeat it! our
destinies are irrevocably united, although we pursue different roads.
I respect your convictions ; and while we fight for opposite sides,
let us remain friends. Ministers, princes, kings will pass away
like a torrent; civil war, like a flame; but we—we shall remain;
I have a presentiment that we shall."
"Yes," replied D'Artagnan, "let us still be Musketeers, and
let us retain as our colours that famous napkin of the bastion
Saint Gervais—on which the great Cardinal had three fleurs-de-lis
embroidered."
" Be it so," cried Aramis. " Cardinalists, or Frondeurs, what
matters it—let us meet again our capital seconds at a duel—our
devoted friends in business—our merry companions in pleasure."
"And whenever," added Athos, "we meet in battle, at this
word—' Place Royale !'—let us put our swords into our left hands,
and shake hands with the right—even in the very thick of the
carnage."
"You speak charmingly," said Porthos.
"And are the first of men!" added D'Artagnan. "You excel
us all!"
Athos smiled with ineffable pleasure.
"Tis then all settled—gentlemen, your hands—are you not
pretty good Christians ?"
"Egad!" said D'Artagnan, " by Heaven—yes."
" We should be so on this occasion, if only to be faithful to our
oath," said Aramis.
" Ah, I'm ready to do what you will," cried Porthos—" to swear
by Mahomet;—devil take me if I've ever been so happy as at this
moment!"
And he. wiped his eyes, still moist.
" Has not one of you a cross ?" asked Athos.
Aramis smiled, and drew from his vest a cross of diamonds,
which was hung round his neck by a cross of pearls. " Here is
one," he said.
" Well," resumed Athos, " swear on this cross, which, in spite
of its material, is still a cross ; swear to be united in spite of every-
thing, and for ever, and may this oath bind us to each other—and
even, also, our descendants ! Does this oath satisfy you ?"
f Yes !" said they all with one accord,
ii
162
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Ah ! traitor !" muttered D'Artagnan to himself, leaning towards
Aramis, and whispering in his ear, " you have made US swear OH
the crucifix of a Froudeuse,"
CHAPTER XXIX
the ferry over the oise,
We hope that the reader has not quite forgotten the young tra-
veller whom we left on the road to Flanders.
In losing sight of his guardian, whom he had quitted, gazing
after him in front of the royal Basilica, Raoul spurred on his horse,
in order not only to escape from his own melancholy reflections,
but also to hide from Olivain the emotion which his face might
betray.
One hour's rapid progress, however, sufficed to disperse the
gloomy fancies which had clouded the young man's bright antici-
pations; and the hitherto unknown pleasure of freedom—a
pleasure which has its sweetness even for those who have never
suffered from dependence—seemed to gild for Raoul, not only both
heaven and earth, but especially that ■ blue, distant horizon of life
which we call the future.
. Nevertheless, after several attempts at conversation with Olivain,
he foresaw that many long days passed thus would be very dull;
and the count's agreeable voice, his gentle and persuasive eloquence,
recurred to his mind, at the various towns through which they
journeyed, and about which he had no longer any one to give him
those interesting details which he would have drawn from Athos,
the most amusing and the best-informed of guides. Another re-
collection contributed also to sadden Raoul: on their arrival at
Sonores, he had perceived, hidden between a screen of poplars, a
little chateau, "which so vividly recalled that of La Valliere to his
mind, that he had halted for nearly ten minutes to gaze at it, and
had resumed his journey with a sigh, too abstracted even to reply
to Olivain's respectful inquiry about the cause of this fixed atten-
tion. The aspect of external objects is often a mysterious guide
communicating with the fibres of memory, which, in spite of us,
will arouse them at times; this thread, like that of Ariadne, when
once unravelled, will conduct one through a labyrinth of thought,
in which one loses one's self in endeavouring to follow that phan-
torn of the past which is called recollection.
Now the sight of this chateau had taken Raoul back fifty leagues
THE FERRY OVER THE OJSE.
westward, and had caused him to review his life from the moment
when he had taken leave of little Louise to that in which he had
seen her for the first time; and every branch of oak, every weather-
cock seen on a roof of slates, reminded him, that instead of re-
turning to the friends of his childhood, every instant removed him
further from them, and that perhaps he had even left them for
ever.
With a full heart and burning head, he desired Olivain to lead
on the horses to a little inn, which he observed by the wayside
within gun-shot range, a little in advance of the place they had
reached.
As for himself, he dismounted, and remained under a beautiful
group of chestnuts in flower, among which were murmuring multi-
tudes of bees, and bade Olivain send the host to him with writing-
paper and ink, to be placed on a table which he found there, con-
veniently ready for writing. Olivain obeyed and continued his
road, while Raoul remained sitting with his elbow leaning on the
table, from time to time gently shaking the flowers from his head,
which fell upon him like -snow, and gazing vaguely on the pretty
landscape before him, dotted over with green fields and groups of
trees.
Raoul had been there about ten minutes, during five out of
which he was lost in reverie, when there appeared within the circle
comprised in his wandering gaze a rubicund figure, who, with a
napkin round his body, another under his arm, and a white cap
upon his head, approached him, holding paper, pen, and ink in
his hand.
"Ah! ah!" said the apparition, "every gentleman seems to
have the same fancy, for, not a quarter of an hour ago, a young
lad, well-mounted like you, as tall as you, and about your age,
halted before this clump of trees, and had this table and this chair
brought here, and dined here—with an old gentleman who seemed
to be his tutor—upon a pie, of which they haven't left a mouthful,
and a bottle of Macon wine, of which they haven't left a drop;
but fortunately we have still got some of the same wine, and some
of the same pies left, and if your worship will only give your
orders "
"No friend," replied Raoul, smiling, " I am obliged to you,
but at this moment I want nothing but the things for which I have
asked ;—only I shall be very glad if the ink prove black, and the
pen good; upon these conditions, I will pay for the pen the price
of the bottle, and for the ink the price of the pie."
(< Very well, sir," said the host, " I'll give the pie and the bottle
II 2
164
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
of wine to your servant, and in this way you will have the pen and
ink into the bargain."
" Do as you like," said Raoul, who was beginning his appren-
ticeship with that particular class of society, who, when there were
robbers on the high roads, were connected with them, and who,
since highwaymen no longer exi?t, have advantageously supplied
their place.
The host, his mind quite at ease about the bill, placed pen, ink,
and paper upon the table. By a lucky chance the pen was toler-
ably good, and Raoul began to write. The host remained stand-
ing in front of him, looking with a kind of involuntary admiration
at his handsome face, combining both gravity and sweetness of
expression. Beauty has always been, and always will be, all-
powerful.
" He's not a guest like the other one here just now," observed
mine host to Olivain, who had rejoined his master to see if he
wanted anything, "and your young master has no appetite."
" My master had appetite enough three days ago ; but what can
one do ? he lost it the day before yesterday."
And Olivain and the host took their way together towards the
inn. Olivain, according to the custom of grooms contented with
their places, relating to the tavern-keeper all that he thought
he could say about the young gentleman; and Raoul wrote on
.thus:
" Sir,—After a four hours' march I stop to write to you, for I
miss you every moment, and I am always on the point of turning
my head as if to reply when you sfieak to me. I was so bewildered
by your departure, and so overcome with grief at our separation,
that I but very feebly expressed all the affection and the gratitude
that I feel towards you. You will forgive me, sir, for your heart
is of such a generous nature, that you can well understand all that
passed in mine. I entreat you to write to me, for you form a part
of my existence, and if I may venture to tell you so, I also feel
anxious. It seemed to me as if you were yourself preparing for
some dangerous undertaking, about which I did not dare to ques-
tion you, since you had told me nothing. I have, therefore, as
you see, great need to hear from you. Now that you are no longer
beside me, I am afraid every moment of erring. You sustained
me powerfully, sir, and I protest to you that to-day I feel very
lonely. Will you have the goodness, sir, should you receive news
from Blois, to send me a few lines about my little friend, Mademoi-
selle de la Yalliere, ab,ont whose health, when we left, some anxiety
The ferr y o ver The oIsjs.
Was felt ? You can understand, honoured and dear guardian, how
precious and indispensable to me is the remembrance of the time
that I have passed with you. I hope that you will sometimes, too,
think of me, and if at certain hours you should miss me, if you
should feel any slight regret at my absence, I shall be overwhelmed
with joy at the thought that you have appreciated my affection and
my devotion for yourself, and that I have been able to prove them
to you whilst I had the happiness of living with yoji."
After finishing this letter, Raoul felt more composed ; he looked
well around him to see if Olivain and the host were not watching him,
whilst he impressed a kiss upon the paper, a mute and touching caress,
which the heart of Athos might well divine on opening the letter.
" During this time Olivain had finished his bottle and eaten his
pie; the horses also were refreshed. Raoul motioned the host to
approach, threw a crown down on the table, mounted his horse,
and posted his letter at Senlis. The rest that had been thus
afforded to men and horses enabled them to continue their journey
without stopping. At Verberie, Raoul desired Olivain to make
some inquiry about the young man who was preceding them; he
had been observed to pass only three-quarters of an hour pre-
viously, but he was well-mounted, as the tavern-keeper had already
said, and rode at a rapid pace.
" Let us try to overtake this gentleman," said Raoul to Olivain;
"like ourselves, he is on his way to join the army, and may prove
agreeable company."
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when Raoul arrived
at Compiegne; there he dined heartily, and again inquired about
the young gentleman who was in advance of them. He had
stopped, like Raoul, at the hotel of the Bell and Bottle, the best
at Compiegne, and had started again on his journey, saying that
he should sleep at Noyon.
"Well, let us sleep at Noyon," said Raoul.
" Sir," replied Olivain, respectfully, " allow me to remark, that
we have already much fatigued the horses this morning. I think
it would be well to sleep here, and to start again very early to-
morrow. Eighteen leagues is enough for the first stage."
" The Count de la Fere wished me to hasten on," replied Raoul,
" that I might rejoin the prince on the morning of the fourth clay;
let us push on, then, to Noyon, it will be a stage similar to those
that we travelled from Blois to Paris. We shall arrive at eight
o'clock. The horses will have a long night's rest, and at five
o'clock to-morrow morning we can be again on the road."
166
twenty years aftEE.
Olivain dared offer no opposition to this determination; but be
followed his master grumbling.
" Go on, go on," said he, between his teeth, " expend your
ardour the first day; to-morrow, instead of journeying twenty'
miles, you will do ten; the day after to-morrow, five, and in three
days you will be in bed. There you must rest; all these young
people are such braggarts."
It is easy to see that Olivain had not been taught in the school
of the Planchets and the Grimauds. Raoul really felt tired; but
he was desirous of testing his strength, and, brought up in the
principles of Athos, and certain of having heard him speak a
thousand times of stages of twenty-five leagues, he did not wish to
fall short of his model. D'Artagnan, that man of iron, who seemed
to be made of nerve and muscle only, had struck him with admi-
ration. Therefore, in spite of all Olivain's remarks, he continued
to urge on his steed more and more, and following a pleasant little
path, leading to a ferry, and which he had been assured short-
ened the journey by the distance of one league, he arrived at the
summit of a hill, and perceived the river flowing before him. A
little troop of men on horseback were waiting on the edge of the
stream, ready to embark. Raoul did not doubt that this was the
gentleman and his escort: he called out to him, but he was too
distant to be heard ; then, in spite of the weariness of his beast, he
made it gallop; but the rising ground soon deprived him of the
sight of the travellers, and when he had again attained a new
height, the ferry-boat had left the shore, and was making for the
opposite bank. Raoul, seeing that he could not arrive in time to
cross the ferry with the travellers, halted to wait for Olivain. At
this moment a shriek was heard which seemed to come from the
river. Raoul turned towards the side whence the cry had
sounded, and shaded his eyes from the glare of the setting sun
with his hand.
" Olivain !" he exclaimed, " what do I see below there ?"
A second scream, more piercing than the first, now sounded.
" Oh, sir !" cried Olivain, " the rope which holds the ferry-boat
has broken, and the boat is drifting away. But what do I see in
the water? something struggling."
" Oh ! yes," exclaimed Raoul, fixing his glance on one point in
the stream, splendidly illumined by the setting sun, " a horse, a
rider!"
" They are sinking !" cried Olivain in his turn.
It was true, and Raoul was convinced that Some accident had
happened, and that a man was drowning; he gave his horse its
THE EE EE Y OVEE THE O/SE.
167
head, struck his spurs into its sides, and the animal, urged on by
pain, and feeling that he had space open before him, bounded over
a kind of paling which enclosed the landing-place, and fell into the
river, scattering to a distance waves of white froth.
" Ah, sir 1" cried Olivain, " what are you doing ? Good God !"
Raoul was directing his horse towards the unhappy man in
danger. This was, in fact, a custom familiar to him. Having
been brought up on the banks of the Loire, he might have been
said to have been cradled on its waves; a hundred times he had
crossed it on horseback, a thousand times he had swum across.
Athos, foreseeing the period when he should make a soldier of the
viscount, had inured him to all these kinds of undertakings.
" Oh, heavens !" continued Olivain, in despair, " what would
the count say if he only saw you ?"
" The count would do as I do," replied Raoul, urging his horse
vigorously forward. '
" But I—but I," cried Olivain, pale and disconsolate, rushing
about on the shore, " how shall I cross ?"
"Leap, coward," cried Raoul, swimming on; then addressing
the traveller, who was struggling twenty yards in advance of him,
"Courage, sir," said he, "courage, we are coming to your aid."
Olivain advanced, retired, then made his horse rear—turned it,
and then, struck tQ the core by shame, leapt, as Raoul had done,
only repeating:
" I am a dead man; we are lost!"
In the meantime the ferry-boat floated away, carried down by
the stream; and the shrieks of those whom it contained resounded
more and more. A man with grey hair had thrown himself from
the boat into the river, and was swimming vigorously towards the
person who was drowning; but being obliged to go against the
current, he advanced but slowly. Raoul continued his way, and
was visibly gaining the shore; but the horse and its rider, of whom
he did not lose sight, were evidently sinking. The nostrils of the
horse were no longer above water, and the rider, who had lost the
reins in struggling, fell with his head back and his arms extended.
One moment longer, and all had disappeared.
"Courage," cried Raoul, "courage."
"Too late !" murmured the young man, "too late !"
The water passed over his head, and stifled his voice in his
mouth.
Raoul sprang from his horse, to which he left the charge of its
own preservation, and in three or four strokes was at the gentle-
man's side; he seized the horse at once by the curb, and raised
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
its head above water. The animal then breathed more freely, and
as if he comprehended that they had come to his aid, redoubled,
his efforts. Raoul at the same time seized one of the young man's
hands, and placed it on the mane, at which it grasped with the
tenacity of a drowning man. Thus, sure that the rider would not
release his hold, Raoul now only directed his attention to the
horse, which he guided to the opposite bank, helping it to cut
through the water, and encouraging it with words.
All at once the horse stumbled against a ridge, and then placed
its foot on the sand.
" Saved !" exclaimed the man with grey hair, who sprang on
land in his turn.
" Saved," mechanically repeated the young gentleman, releasing
the mane, and gliding from the saddle into Raoul's arms; Raoul
was but ten yards from the shore : he bore the fainting man there,
and laying him down on the grass, unfastened the buttons of his
collar, and unhooked his doublet. A moment later the grey-headed
man was beside him. Olivain managed in his turn to land, after
crossing himself repeatedly, and the people in the ferry-boat guided
themselves as well as they were able towards the bank, with the aid
of a hook which chanced to be in the boat.
Thanks to the attention of Raoul, and the man who accompanied
the young gentleman, the colour gradually returned to the pale
cheeks of the dying man, who opened two eyes at first bewildered,
but who soon fixed his glance upon the person who had saved him.
" Ah, sir," he exclaimed, " it was you I wanted; without you I
was a dead man—thrice dead."
"But one recovers, sir, as you see," replied Raoul, "and we
shall but have had a bath."
" Oh ! sir, what gratitude I feel," exclaimed the man with grey
hair.
"Ah, there you are, my good D'Arminges, I have given you a
great fright, have I not? but it is your own fault; you were my
tutor, why did you not teach me to swim better ?"
" Oh, sir !" replied the old man, " had any misfortune happened
to you, I should never have dared to have shown myself to the
marshal again."
" But how did the accident happen ?" asked Raoul.
" Oh, sir, in the most natural manner possible," replied he to
whom they had given the title of count. " We were about a third
of the way across the river when the cord of the ferry-boat broke.
Alarmed by the cries and the gestures of the boatmen, my horse'
sprang into the water. I swim badly, and dared not throw myself
THE FERRY OVER THE O/SE.
into the river. Instead of aiding the movements of my horse, I
paralysed them; and I was just going to drown myself, with the
best grace in the world, when you arrived just in time to pull me
out of the water; therefore, sir, if you will agree, henceforth we
are friends in life until death."
" Sir," replied Raoul, bowing, " I am entirely at your service, I
assure you."
"I am called the Count de Guiche," continued the young man;
"my father is the Mare'chal de Grammont; and now that you
know who I am, do me the honour to inform me who you are."
" I am the Viscount de Bragelonne," answered Raoul, blushing
at being unable to name his father, as the Count de Guiche had
done.
" Viscount, your countenance, your goodness, and your courage
incline me towards you ; my gratitude is already due to you—shake
hands ;—I ask your friendship."
" Sir," said Raoul, returning the count's pressure of the hand,
" I like you already from my heart; pray regard me as a devoted
friend, I beseech you."
" And now, where are you going, viscount ?" inquired De Guiche.
"To the army, under the prince, count."
"And I too," exclaimed the young man, in a transport of joy.—
" Oh, so much the better; we shall fire off the first pistol shot to-
gether."
" It is well—be friends," said the tutor; " young as you both
■ are, you were perhaps born under the same star, and were destined
to meet. And now," continued he, " you must change your
clothes; your servants, to whom I gave directions the moment
they had left the ferry-boat, ought to be already at the inn. Linen
and wine are both being warmed—come."
The young men had no objection to make to this proposition;
on the contrary, they thought it a.n excellent one. They mounted
again at once, whilst looks of admiration passed between them.
They were indeed two elegant horsemen, with figures slight and
upright—two noble faces, with open foreheads—bright and proud
looks—loyal and intelligent smiles.
De Guiche might have been about eighteen years of age; but
he was scarcely taller than Raoul, who was only fifteen.
170
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER XXX.
skirmishing.
The halt at Noyon was short, every one there being wrapt in
profound sleep. Raoul had desired to be awakened should Gri-
maud have arrived—but Grimaud did not arrive. Doubtless, too,
the horses, on their parts, appreciated the eight hours of repose, and
the abundant stabling which was granted to them. The Count de
Guiche was awakened at five o'clock in the morning by Raoul,
who came to wish him good day. They had breakfast in haste,
and at six o'clock had already gone ten miles.
The young count's conversation was most interesting to Raoul;
therefore he listened much, whilst the count talked much. Brought
up in Paris, where Raoul had been but once; at the court, which
Raoul had never seen—his follies as page—two duels, which he
had already found the means - of fighting, in spite of the edicts
against them, and more especially in spite of his] tutor's vigilance
•—these things excited the greatest curiosity in Raoul. Raoul
had only been at M. Scarron's house; he named to De Guiche
the people whom he had seen there. De Guiche knew everybody:—■
Madame de Muillan, Mademoiselle D'Aubigne, Mademoiselle de
Scudery, Mademoiselle Paulet, Madame de Chevreuse.;—He cri-
ticised everybody humorously. Raoul trembled lest he should
laugh among the rest at Madame de Chevreuse, for whom he en-
tertained deep and genuine sympathy, bnt either instinctively, or
from affection for the Duchesse de Chevreuse, he said everything
possible in her favour. His praises increased Raoul's friendship
for him twofold. Then came the question of gallantry and love
affairs. Under this head also, Bragelonne had much more to hear
than to tell. He listened attentively, and fancied that he dis-
covered through three or four rather frivolous adventures, that the
count, like himself, had a secret to hide in the depths of his heart.
De Guiche, as we have said before, had been educated at the
court, and the intrigues of this court were known to him. It was
the" same court of which Raoul had so often heard the Count de la
Fere speak, except that its aspect had much changed since the
period when Athos had himself witnessed it; therefore everything
which the Count de Guiche related was new to his travelling com-
panion. The young count, witty and caustic, passed all the world
in review; the queen herself was not spared, and Cardinal Mazarin
came in for his share of ridicule.
The day passed away as rapidly as one hour. The count's tutor,
SKIRMISHING,
a mah of the world, and a 'bon vivant,' up to his eyes in learning,
as his pupil described him, often recalled the profound erudition,
the witty and caustic satire, of Athos to Raoul; but as regarded
grace, delicacy, and nobility of external appearance, no one in these
points was to be compared to the Count de la Fere.
The horses,' which were better cared for than on the previous
day, stopped at Arras at four o'clock in the evening. They were
approaching the scene of war; and as bands of Spaniards some-
times took advantage of the night to make expeditions even as far
as the neighbourhood of Arras, they determined to remain in this
town untif the morrow. The French army held all between Pont-
a-Mare as far as Valenciennes, falling back upon Douai. The
prince was said to be in person at Bethune.
The enemy's army extended from Cassel to Courtray; and as
there was no species of violence or pillage which it did not commit,
the poor people on the frontier quitted their isolated dwellings, and
fled for refuge into the strong cities which held out a shelter to
them. Arras was encumbered with fugitives. An approaching
battle was much spoken of, the prince having manoeuvred until
that moment, only in order to await a reinforcement, which had just
reached him.
The young men congratulated themselves on having arrived so
opportunely. The evening was employed in discussing the war;
the grooms polished the arms; the young men loaded the pistols
in case of a skirmish, and they awoke in despair, having both
dreamt that they had arrived too late to participate in the battle.
In the morning it was rumoured that Prince Conde had evacuated
Bethune, and fallen back upon Carvin, leaving, however, a strong
garrison in the former city.
But as there was nothing positively certain in this report, the
young men decided to continue their way towards Bethune, free,
on the road, to diverge to the right, and to march to Carvin if
necessary.
The count's tutor was well acquainted with the country; he
consequently proposed to take a cross road, which lay between
that of Lens and that of Bethune. They obtained information at
Ablain, and a statement of their route was left for Grimaud.
About seven o'clock in the morning they set out. De Guiche,
who was young and impulsive, said to Raoul, " Here we are,
three masters and three servants. Our valets are well armed, and
yours seems to be tough enough."
" I have never seen him put to the test," replied Raoul, "but
•he is a Breton, which promises something."
TJVEJVTY YEARS JETER.
" Yes, yes," resumed De Guiche; "I am sure he can fire a
musket when required. On my side, I have two very sure men,
who have been in action with my father. We, therefore, represent
six fighting men : if we should meet a little troop of enemies,
equal or even superior in number to our own, shall we charge
them, Raoul ?"
" Certainly, sir," replied the viscount.
" Holloa ! young people—stop there !" said the tutor, joining in
the conversation. " Zounds ! how do you arrange my instructions,
pray, count ? You seem to forget the orders I received to conduct
you safe and sound to his highness the prince ! Once with the
army, you may be killed at your good pleasure; but, until that
time, I warn you, that in my capacity of general of the army,
I shalforder a retreat, and turn my back on the first red coat I see."
De Guiche and Raoul glanced at each other, smiling.
They arrived at Ablain without accident. There they inquired,
and learned that the prince had in reality quitted Bethune, and
placed himself between Cambria and La Venthie. Therefore,
leaving directions at every place for Grimaud, they took a cross
road, which conducted the little troop upon the bank of a small
stream flowing into the Lys. The country was beautiful, inter-
sected by valleys as green as the emerald. Every here and there
they passed little copses crossing the path which they were follow-
ing. In anticipation of some ambuscade in each of these little
woods, the tutor placed his two servants at the head of the band,
thus forming the advance guard. Himself and the two young men
represented the body of the army, whilst Olivain, with his rifle on
his knee, and his eye on the watch, protected the rear.
They had observed for some time before them on the horizon a
rather thick wood ; and when they had arrived at a distance of a
hundred steps from it, Monsieur D'Arminges took his usual precau-
tions, and sent on in advance the count's two grooms. The servants
had just disappeared under the trees, followed by the tutor, and
the young men were laughing and talking about a hundred yards
off. Olivain was at the same distance in the rear, when suddenly
there resounded five or six musket-shots. The tutor cried halt;
the young men obeyed, pulling up their steeds, and at the same
moment the two valets were seen returning at a gallop.
The young men, impatient to learn the cause of the firing,
spurred on towards the servants. The tutor followed them behind.
" Were you stopped ?" eagerly inquired the two youths.
" No," replied the servants, "it is even probable that we have
not been seen; the shots were fired about a hundred steps in
SKIRMISHING.
173
advance of us, almost in the thickest part of the weed, and we re-
turned to ask your advice."
" My advice," said Monsieur D'Arminges, " and, if needs be,
my will is, that we beat a retreat. There may be an ambuscade
concealed in this wood."
" Did you see nothing there ?" asked the count.
" I thought I saw," said one of the servants, " horsemen dressed
in yellow, creeping along the bed of the stream."
" That's it," said the tutor. " We have fallen in with a party
of Spaniards. Come back, sirs—back."
■. The two youths looked at each other, and at this moment a
pistol-shot and several cries for help were heard. Another glance
between the young men convinced them both that neither had any
wish to go back, and as the tutor had already turned his horse's
head, they both spurred on forward, Raoul crying, " Follow me,
Olivain;" and Count de Guiche, "Follow, Urban and Blanche!"
And before the tutor could recover his surprise, they had both
disappeared into the forest. When they spurred their steeds, they
held their pistols ready also. Five minutes after they arrived at
the spot whence the noise had proceeded; therefore, restraining
their horses, they advanced cautiously.
" Hush," whispered De Guiche; "these are cavaliers."
"Yes, three on horseback, and three who have dismounted."
" Can you see what they are doing ?"
"Yes, they appear to be searching a wounded or dead man."
" It is some cowardly assassination," said De Guiche.
" They are soldiers, though," resumed De Bragelonne.
"Yes, skirmishers; that is to say, highway robbers."
"At them !" cried Raoul. "At them !" echoed De Guiche.
" Oh ! sirs, sirs; in the name of Heaven !" cried the poor tutor.
But he was not listened to, and his cries only served to arouse,
the attention of the Spaniards.
The men on horseback at once rushed at the two youths,
leaving the three others to complete the plunder of the two
travellers ; for, on approaching nearer, instead of one extended
figure, the young men discovered two. De Guiche fired the first
shot at ten paces, and missed his man ; and the Spaniard, who
had advanced to meet Raoul, aimed in his turn, and Raoul felt a
pain in his left arm, similar to that of a blow from a whip. He
let off his fire at but four paces. Struck in the breast, and ex-
tending .his arms, the Spaniard fell back on the croup of his horse,
which, turning round, carried him off.
Raoul, at this moment, perceived the muzzle of a gun pointed
174
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
at him, and remembering the recommendation of Athos, he, with
the rapidity of lightning, made his horse rear as the shot was
fired. His horse bounded to one side, losing its footing, and fell,
entangling Raoul's leg under its body. The Spaniard sprang
forward, and seized the gun by its muzzle, in order to strike Raoul
on the head by the butt-end. In the position in which Raoul lay,
unfortunately, he could neither draw his sword from the scabbard,
nor his. pistols from their holsters. The butt-end of the musket
hovered over his head, and he could scarcely restrain himself from
closing his eyes, when, with one bound, De Guiche reached the
Spaniard, and placed a pistol at his throat " Yield !" he cried,
"or you are a dead man." The musket fell from the soldier's
hands, who, yielded at the instant.
De Guiche summoned one of his grooms, and delivering the pri-
soner into his charge, with orders to shoot him through the head
if he attempted to escape, he leaped from his horse and approached
Raoul.
"Faith, sir," said Raoul, smiling, although his pallor somewhat
betrayed the excitement consequent on a first affair—" you are in
a great hurry to pay your debts, and have not been long under any
obligation to me. Without your aid," continued he, repeating
the- count's words, "I should have been a dead man—thrice
dead."
" My antagonist took flight," replied De Guiche, " and left me
at liberty to come to your aid. But you are seriously wounded ?
I see you are covered with blood !"
" I believe," said Raoul, " that I have got something like a
scratch on the arm. If you will help me to drag myself from
under my horse, I hope nothing need prevent us continuing our
journey." ■
Monsieur D'Arminges and Olivain had already dismounted, and
were attempting to raise the horse, which struggled in terror. At
last -Raoul succeeded in drawing his foot from the stirrup, and
his leg from under the animal, and in a second he was on his feet
again.
"Nothing broken?" asked De Guiche.
"Faith, no, thank Heaven!" replied Raoul; "but what has
become of the poor wretches whom these scoundrels were mur-
dering ?"
" I fear we arrived too late. They had killed them and taken
flight, carrying off their booty. My two servants are examining
the bodies."
" Let us go and see whether they are quite dead, or if they can
SKIRMISHING.
175
be recovered," suggested Raoul. "Olivain, we have come into
possession of two horses, but I have lost my own; take the best
of the two for yourself, and give me yours."
Saying this, they approached the spot where the victims lay.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE MQNK.
Two men lay extended on the ground; one bathed in his blood,
and motionless, with his face towards the earth; he was dead.
The other leant against the tree, supported there by the two
valets, and was praying fervently, with clasped hands, and eyes
raised, to heaven. He had received a ball in his thigh, which had
broken the upper part of it. The young men first approached the
dead man.
" He is a priest," said Bragelonne, " he has ' worn the tonsure.
Oh the scoundrels ! to lift their hands against the minister of
God."
" Come here, sir," said Urban, an old soldier who had served
under the cardinal-duke in all his campaigns. " Come here, there
is nothing to be done with him; whilst we may perhaps be able to
save this one,"
The wounded man smiled sadly. "Save me ! oh no," said he;
"but help me to die, you can."
, " Are you a priest ?" asked Raoul.
"No, sir."
" I ask, as your unfortunate companion appeared to me to belong
to the church."
" He is the curate of Bethune, sir, and was carrying the holy
vessels belonging to his church, and the treasure of the chapter, to
a safe place, the prince having abandoned our town yesterday; and
as it was known that bands of the enemy were prowling about the
country, no one dared to accompany the good man, so I offered
to do so."
" And, sir," continued the wounded man, " I suffer much, and
would like, if possible, to be carried to some house."
" Where you can be relieved ?" asked De Guiche
" No, where I can confess myself."
" But perhaps you are not so dangerously wounded as you think,"
said Raoul.
176
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Sir," replied the wounded ma,n, " believe me there is no time
to lose; the ball has broken the thigh-bone, and entered the in-
testines."
" Are you a surgeon ?" asked De Guiche.
" No, but I know a little about wounds, and mine is mortal.
Try, therefore, either to carry me to some place where I may see a
priest, or take the trouble to send one to me here. It is my soul
that must be saved; as for my body, that is lost.
" Good God! good God !" added the wounded man, in an
accent of terror which made the young man shudder; " you will
not allow me to die without receiving absolution ? that would be
too terrible !"
" Calm yourself, sir," replied De Guiche. " I swear to you that
you shall receive the consolation that you ask. Only tell us where
we shall find a house at which we can demand aid, and a village
from which we can fetch a priest."
" Thank you, and God will r'eward you ! About half a mile
from this, on the same road, there is an inn; and about a mile
further on, after leaving the inn, you will reach the village of
Greney. There you must find the curate; or if he is not at home,
go to the convent of the Augustins, which is the last house on the
right in the village, and bring me one of the brothers. Monk or
priest, it matters not, provided he have received from our holy
church the power of absolving ' in articulo mortis !'"
" Monsieur D'Arminges," said De Guiche, " remain beside this
unfortunate man, and see that he is removed as gently as possible.
The vicomte and myself will go and find a priest."
" Go, sir," replied the tutor; " but, in heaven's name, do not
expose yourself to danger !"
" Do not fear. Besides, we are safe to-day; you know the axiom
—Non bis in idem."
" Courage, sir," said Raoul to the wounded. man. " We are
going to execute your wishes."
" May heaven prosper you !" replied the dying man, with an
accent of gratitude impossible to describe.
The two young men galloped off in the direction mentioned to
them, and ten minutes after reached the inn. Raoul, without dis-
mounting, called to the host, and announced that a wounded man
was about to be brought to his house, and begged him in the mean-
time to prepare everything necessary for dressing his wounds. He
desired him also, should he know in the neighbourhood any doctor,
surgeon, or-operator, to fettch him, taking on himself the payment
of the messenger. Raoul had already proceeded for more than a,
THE Monk.
VI
mile, and had begun to descry the first houses of the village, the
red tiled roofs of which stood out strongly from the green trees
which surrounded them, when, coming towards them, mounted on
a mule, they perceived a poor monk, whose large hat and grey
worsted dress made them mistake him for an Augustine brother.
Chance for once had seemed to favour them in sending what they
were seeking for. He was a man about twenty-two or twenty-
three years old, but who appeared to be aged by his ascetic exer-
cises. His complexion was pale, not of that deadly pallor which
is a beauty, but of a bilious, yellow hue ; his light colourless hair
was short, and scarcely extended beyond the circle formed by the
hat round his head, and his light blue eyes seemed entirely destitute
of any expression.
" Sir," began Raoul, with his usual politeness. " are you an eccle-
siastic ?"
" Why do you ask fine that ?" replied the stranger, with a cool-
ness which was barely civil.
" Because we want to know," said De Guiche, haughtily.
The stranger touched his mule with his heel, and continued his
way.
In a second De Guiche had sprung before him and barred his
passage. " Answer, sir," exclaimed he; " you have been asked
politely, and every question is worth an answer."
" I suppose I am free to say who I am, or not, to any kind of
people who choose to take a fancy to ask me ?"
It was with difficulty that De Guiche restrained the intense
desire he had of breaking the monk's bones.
" In the first place," he said, making an effort to control himself,
" we are not people who may be treated any how ; my friend there
is the Viscount of Bragelonne, and I am the Count de Guiche. Nor
is it from a matter of caprice that we asked you the question ; for
there is a wounded and dying man who demands the succour of
the Church. If you be a priest, I conjure you in the name of
humanity to follow me to aid this man ; if you be not, it is a dif-
ferent matter, and I warn you, in the name of courtesy, of which
you appear so utterly ignorant, that I shall chastise you fof your
insolence."
The pale face of the monk became so livid, and his smile was
so strange, that Raoul, whose eyes were still fixed upon him, felt
as if this smile had struck to his heart like some insult.
" He is some Spanish or Flemish spy," said he, putting his
hand to his pistols. A glance, threatening and as transient as
lightning, replied to Raoul..;
12
TfYEATTY YEARS APTEE.
41 Well, sir," said De Guiche, " are you going to reply ?"
" I am a priest," said the young man. ,
" Then, father," said Raoul, forcing himself to give a respect to
his speech which did not come from his heart, "if you are a
spriest, then you have an opportunity, as my friend has told you, of
exercising your vocation. At the next inn you will find a wounded
man, who has asked the assistance of a minister of God, attended
on by our servants."
" I will go," said the monk.
And he touched his mule.
" If you do not go, sir," said De Guiche, " remember that we
have two steeds quite able to catch your mule, and the power of
having you seized wherever you may be; and then I swear your
trial will be short; one can always find a tree and a cord."
The monk's eye again flashed, but that was all; he merely re-
peated his phrase, " I will go,"—and he went.
" Let us follow- him," said De Guiche; " it will be the more
sure plan."
" I was about to propose doing so," answered De Bragelonne.
In the space of five minutes the monk turned round to ascer-
tain whether he was followed or not.
"You see," said Raoul, " we have done wisely."
"What a horrible face that monk has," said De Guiche.
"Horrible !" replied Raoul, "especially in expression!."
" Yes, yes," said De Guiche, " a strange face; but these monks
are subject to such degrading practices; the fasts make them
pale; the blows of the discipline make them hypocrites; and
their eyes become inflamed in weeping for the good things of this
life which we enjoy, and which they have lost." .
" Well," said Raoul, " the poor man will get his priest; but by
heaven, the penitent appears to have a better conscience than the
confessor. I confess I am accustomed to see priests of a very
different appearance."
" Ah!" exclaimed De Guiche, " you must understand that this
is one of those wandering brothers, who go begging on the high
road, until some day a benefice falls down from heaven for them;
they are mostly foreigners—Scotch, Irish, or Danish."
" What a misfortune for that poor wounded fellow to die under
the hands of such a friar !"
" Pshaw !" said De Guiche. " Absolution comes not from him
who administers it, but from God. However, let me tell you that
I would rather die unshriven than have anything to say to such a
confessor. You are of my opinion, are you not, viscount ? and I.
THE MONK.
179
See you playing with the pommel of your pistol, as if you had a
great inclination to break his head."
" Yes, count, it is a strange thing, and one which might astonish
you; but I feel an indescribable horror at the sight of that man.
Have you ever seen a snake rise up in your path ?"
" Never," answered De Guiche.
" Well, it has happened to me to do so in our Blaisois forests,
and I remember that the first time I encountered one with its
eyes fixed upon me, curled up, swinging its head, and pointing its
tongue, that I remained fixed, pale, and as if fascinated, until the
moment when the Count de la Fere
" Your father ?" asked De Guiche.
"No, my,guardian," replied Raoul, blushing.
"Very well "
"Until the moment when the Count de la Fere," resumed
Raoul, " said, ' Come, Bragelonne, draw your swordthen only I
rushed upon the reptile, and cut it in two; just at the moment
when it was rising on its tail and hissing ere it sprang upon me.
Well, I vow I felt exactly the same sensation at the sight of that
man when he said, ' Why do you ask me that ?' and looked at
me."
" Then you regret that you did not cut your serpent in two
morsels ?"
" Faith, yes, almost," said Raoul.
They had now arrived in sight of the little inn, and could see
on the opposite side the procession bearing the wounded man, and
guided by Monsieur d'Arminges. The youths spurred on.
" There is the wounded man," said De Guiche, passing close to
the Augustine brother. " Be good enough to hurry yourself a
little, sir monk."
As for Raoul, he avoided the monk the whole width of the road,
and passed him, turning his head away in disgust.
The young men rode up to the wounded man to announce that
they were followed by the priest. He raised himself to glance in
the direction which they pointed out, saw the monk, and fell back
Upon the litter, his face being lightened up by joy.
" And now," said the youths, " we have done all we can for
you; and as we are in haste to join the prince's army we must
continue our journey. You will excuse us, sir, but we are told
that a battle is expected, and we do not wish to arrive the day
after it."
" Go, my young sirs," said the sick man; " and may you both
be blessed for your piety. God protect you ahd all dear to you !"
tso twenty years after.
"Sir," said De Guiche to his tutor, "we will precede you, and
you can rejoin us on the road toCambrin."
The host was at his door, and everything was prepared—bed,
bandages, and lint.
" Everything," said he to Raoul, " shall be done as you desire;
but will you not stop to have your wound dressed ?"
" Oh, my wound—mine—it is nothing," replied the viscount;
"it will be time to think about it when we next halt; only have
the goodness, should you see a cavalier pass who should make
inquiries from you about a young man mounted on a chestnut
horse, and followed by a servant, to tell him, in fact, that you have
seen me, but that I have continued my journey, and intend to
dine at Mazingarbe, and to stop at Cambrin. This cavalier is my
attendant."
" Would it not be safer and more sure that I should ask him his
name, and tell him yours ?" demanded the host.
" There is no harm in over-precaution. I am the Viscount de
Bragelonne, and he is called Grimaud."
At this moment the wounded man passed on one side, and the
monk on the other, the latter dismounting from his mule and
desiring that it should be taken to the stables without being un-
harnessed.
" Come, count," said Raoul, who seemed instinctively to dislike
the vicinity of the Augustine; " come, I feel ill here," and the
two young men spurred on.
The litter, borne by the two servants, now entered the house.
The host and his wife were standing on the steps of the staircase,
whilst the unhappy man seemed to suffer dreadful pain, and yet
only to be anxious to know if he was followed by the monk. At
the sight of this pale, bleeding man, the wife grasped her husband's
arm.
" Well, what's the matter ?" asked the latter; " are you going to
be ill just now ?"
"No, but look," replied the hostess, pointing to the wounded
man ; " I ask you if you recognise him ?"
"That man—wait a bit."
" Ah ! I see that you know him," exclaimed the wife; " for you
have become pale in your turn."
" In truth," cried the host, "misfortune has come upon our
house; it is the executioner of Bethune !"
" The former executioner of Be'thune!" murmured the young
monk, shrinking back, and showing on his countenance the feeling
of repugnance which his penitent inspired.
THE MONK. 181
Monsieur D'Armingeg, who was at the door, perceived his
hesitation.
"Sir monk," said he, "whether he is now or has been an
executioner, this unfortunate being is no less a man. Render to
him, then, the last service he will ask from you, and your work
will be all the more meritorious."
The monk made no reply, but silently wended his way to the
room where the two valets had deposited the dying man on a bed.
D'Arminges and Olivain, and the two grooms, then mounted their
horses, and all four started off at a quick trot to rejoin Raoul and
his companion. Just as the tutor and his escort disappeared in
their turn, a new traveller stopped on the threshold of the inn. •
"What does your worship want ?" demanded the host, pale and
trembling from the discovery he had'just made.
The traveller made a sign as if he wished to drink, pointed to
his horse, and gesticulated like a man who is rubbing something.
" Ah ! diable," said the host to himself, " this man seems dumb.
And where will your worship drink ?"
" There," answered the traveller, pointing to a table.
" I was mistaken," said the host; " he's not quite dumb. And
what else does your worship wish for ?"
" To know if you have seen a young man pass, fifteen years of
age, mounted on a chestnut horse, and followed by a groom."
" The Viscount de Bragelonne ?"
"Just so."
" Then you are called Monsieur Grimaud ?"
The traveller made a sign of assent.
"Well, then," said the host, "your young master has been here
a quarter of an hour ago; he will dine at Mazingarbe, and sleep at
Cambrin."
" How far from Mazingarbe ?"
" Two miles and a half."
" Thank you."
Grimaud was drinking his wine silently, and had just placed
his glass on the table to be filled a second time, when a fearful
scream resounded from the room occupied by the monk and the
dying man. Grimaud sprang up,—
" What is that ?" said he ; " whence that cry ?"
" From the wounded man's room," replied the host.
" What wounded man ?"
" The former executioner of Bethune, who has just been brought
in here assassinated by the Spaniards, and who is now being con-
fessed by an Augustine friar,"
182
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"The ol'd executioner of Bethune-?" muttered Grimaud; "a
man between fifty-five and sixty, tall, strong, swarthy, black Hair
and beard."
" That is he—do you know him ?" asked the host.
" I have seen him once," replied Grimaud, a cloud darkening
his countenance at the picture called up by his recollections.
At this instant a second cry, less piercing than the first, but
followed by prolonged groaning, was heard.
" We must see what it is," said Grimaud.
If Grimaud was slow in speaking, we know that he was quick
in action; he sprang to the door and shook it violently, but it
was bolted on the other side.
" Open the door," cried the host, " open it instantly, sir monk !"
No reply.
" Unfasten it, or I will break in the panel," said Grimaud.
The same silence, and then, ere the host could oppose his de-
sign, Grimaud seized on some pincers which he perceived lying in
a corner, and had forced the bolt. The room was inundated
with blood, streaming through the mattresses upon which lay the
wounded man speechless—the monk had disappeared.
" The monk !" cried the host; " where is the monk ?"
Grimaud sprang towards an open window which looked into the
court-yard.
" He has escaped by this means," exclaimed he.
" Do you think sex?" said the host, bewildered; " boy, see if
the mule belonging to the monk is still in the stable."
" There's no mule," replied the person to whom this question
was addressed.
The host held up his hand, and looked around him suspiciously,
whilst Grimaud knit his brows and approached the wounded man,
whose worn, hprd features awoke in his mind such awful recollec-
tions of the past.
" There can be no longer any doubt but that it is himself,"
said he.
" Does he still live ?" inquired the innkeeper.
Making no reply, Grimaud opened the poor man's jacket to feel
if the heart beat, whilst the host approached in his turn; but in a
moment they both fell back, the host uttering a cry of horror, and
Grimaud becoming pallid. The blade of a dagger was buried up
to the hilt in the left side of the executioher.
" Run—run for help !" cried Grimaud, " and I will remain be-
side him here."
The host quitted the room in agitation; and as for his wife, she
had fled at the sound of her husband's cries.
GRIM A UD SPEAKS.
CHAPTER XXXII,
grimaud speaks.
Grimaud was left alone with the executioner, who in a few
moments opened his eyes.
" Help, help," he murmured; " oh, God ! have I not a single
friend in the world who will aid me either to live or to die ?"
"Take courage," said Grimaud; "they are gone to find help."
" Who are you ?" asked the wounded man, fixing his half-opened
eyes on Grimaud.
s" An old acquaintance," replied Grimaud.
" You ?" and the wounded man sought to recall the features of
the person who was before him to his mind.
" Under what? circumstances did we meet?" he asked again.
. " One night, twenty years ago, my master fetched you from
Bethune, and conducted you to Armentieres."
" I know you well, now," said the executioner; " you are one
of the four grooms."
" Just so,"
" Where do you come from now ?"
" I was passing by on the road, and drew up at this inn to rest
my horse, They were relating to me how the executioner of
Bethune was here, and wounded, when you uttered two piercing
cries. At the first we ran to the door, and at the second forced
it open."
" And the monk ?" exclaimed the executioner; " did you see
the monk ?"
"What monk?"
" The monk that was shut in with me."
"No, he was no longer here; he appears to have fled by that
window. Was it he who struck you ?"
" Yes," said the executioner.
Grimaud moved, as if to leave the room.
" What are you going to do ?" asked the wounded man.
"He must be apprehended."
"Do not attempt it; he has revenged himself, and has done
welL Now I may hope that God will forgive me, since my crime
has been expiated."
" Explain yourself," said Grimaud.
" The woman, whom you and your masters made me
kill
" Milady ?"
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Yes, milady; it is true you called her thus."
"Well, what has the monk to do with milady?"
"She was his mother."
Grimaud trembled, and stared at the dying man in a dull and
stupid manner.
" His mother !" repeated he.
"Yes, his mother."
" But does he know this secret, then ?"
" I mistook him for a monk, and revealed it to him in con-
fession."
"Unhappy man," cried Grimaud, whose face was covered with
sweat, at the bare idea of the evil results which such a revelation
might cause—"unhappy man, you named no one, I hope?"
" I pronounced no name, for I knew none, except his mother's,
as a young girl, and it was by this name that he recognised her;
but he knows that his uncle was among her judges."
Thus speaking, he fell back exhausted. Grimaud, wishing to
relieve him, advanced his hand towards the hilt of the dagger.
"Touch me not !" said the executioner; "if this dagger is with-
drawn, I shall die."
Grimaud remained with his hand extended ; then, striking his
forehead, he exclaimed : " Oh ! if this man should ever discover
the names of the others, my master is lost."
" Haste ! haste to him, and warn him," cried the wounded man,
" if he still lives; warn his friends too. My death, believe me,
will not be the end of this terrible adventure."
" Where was the monk going ?" asked Grimaud.
"Towards Paris."
" Who stopped him ?"
"Two young gentlemen, who were on their way to join the
army, and the name of one of whom I heard his companion men-
tion, the Viscount de Bragelonne."
" And it was this young man who brought the monk to you.
Then it was the will of God that it should be so, and this it is
which is so awful," continued Grimaud; "and yet that woman
deserved her fate: do you not think so ?"
" On one's death-bed the crimes of others appear very small in
comparison with one's own," said the executioner; and he fell
back exhausted, and closed his eyes.
At this moment the host re-entered the room, followed not only
by a surgeon, but by many other persons, whom curiosity had
attracted to the spot. The surgeon approached the dying man,
who seemed to have fainted.
GR1MAUD SPEAKS.
"We must first extract the steel from the side," said he, shaking
his head in a significant manner.
The prophecy which the wounded man had just uttered recurred
to Grimaud, who turned away his head. The weapon, as we have
already stated, was plunged into the body up to the hilt, and as
the surgeon, taking it by the end, drew it from the wound, the
wounded man opened his eyes, and fixed them in a manner truly
frightful. When, at last, the blade had been entirely withdrawn, a
red froth issued from the mouth of the wounded man, and a
stream of blood sprang from the wound, when he at length drew
breath; then, fixing his eyes on Grimaud, with singular ex-
pression, the dying man uttered the last death rattle, and expired.
Then Grimaud, raising the dagger from the pool of blood which
was gliding along the room—to the horror of all present—made a
sign to the host to follow him, paid him with a generosity worthy
of his master, and again mounted his horse. Grimaud's first
intentions had been to return to Paris, but he remembered the
anxiety which his prolonged absence might occasion to Raoul, and,
reflecting that there were now only two miles between Raoul and
himself, that a quarter of an hour's riding would unite them, and
that the going, returning, and explanation would not occupy an
hour, he put spurs to his horse, and, ten minutes after, had reached
the only inn of Mazingarbe.
Raoul was seated at table with the Count de Guiche and his
tutor, when all at once the door opened, and Grimaud presented
himself, travel-stained and dirty, still covered with the blood of the
unfortunate executioner.
" Grimaud, my good Grimaud !" exclaimed Raoul, " here you
are at last! Excuse me, sirs, this is not a servant, but a friend.
How did you leave the count?" continued he; "does he regret me
a little ? Have you seen him since I left him ? Answer, for I
have many things to tell you, too; indeed, the last three days
some odd adventures have happened,—but, what is the matter ?—
how pale you are !—and blood, too ! what is this ?"
" It is the blood of the unfortunate man whom you left at the
inn, and who died in my arms."
" In your arms ?—that man ! But know you who he was ?"
" I know that he was the old headsman of Bethune."
" You knew him ? and he is dead ?"
" Yes."
"Well, sir," said D'Arminges, "it is the common lot, and even
an executioner is not exempted from it. I had a bad opinion
pf him the moment I saw his wound, and, since he asked for a
i86
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
monk, you know it was his own opinion too that death rtiust
ensue."
At the mention of the monk Grimaud turned pale.
"Come, come," continued D'Arminges, "to dinner;" for, like
most men of his age and of his generation, he did not allow any
sensibility to interfere with a repast.
1 "You are right, sir," said Raoul. "Come, Grimaud, order
some dinner for yourself, and when you have rested a little, we
can talk."
"No, sir, no," said Grimaud; "I cannot stop a moment; I
must start for Paris again immediately."
" How now ? you start for Paris ? Explain yourself! do you
intend to disobey me for a change ?"
" I cannot explain myself, and must disobey, unless you wish
me to leave his honour, the count, to be killed !"
"Grimaud, my friend," said the viscount, "will you leave me
thus, in such anxiety ? • 'Speak, speak in Heaven's name !"
" I can tell you but one thing, sir, for the secret you wish to
know is not my own. You met this monk, did you not i"
"Yes."
" You conducted him to the wounded man, and you had time
to observe him, and perhaps you would know him again were you
to meet him ?"
"Yes ! yes !" exclaimed both the young men.
" Very well! if ever you meet him again, wherever it may be,
whether on the high road or in the street, or in a church, any-
where that he or you may be, put your foot on his neck and crush
him without pity, without mercy, as you would crush a viper, a
snake, an asp; destroy him, and leave him not till he is dead;
the lives of live men are not safe, in my opinion, as long as he
lives !"
And without adding another word, Grimaud, profiting by the
astonishment and terror into which he had thrown his auditors,
rushed from the room. Ten minutes later the gallop of a horse
was heard on the road—it was Grimaud on his way to Paris.
When once in the saddle, Grimaud reflected upon two things;
the first that, at the pace he was going, his horse would not carry
him ten miles; and secondly, that he had no money. But
Grimaud's imagination was more prolific than his speech; and.
therefore, at the first halt he sold his steed, and with the money
obtained from the purchaser he took post-horses,
A DINNER IN THE OLD STYLE.
187
CHAPTER XXXIII,
a dinner in the old style.
The second interview between the former Musketeers had not
been so pompous and stiff as the first. Athos, with his superior
understanding, wisely deemed that the table would be the most
speedy and complete point of re-union, and at the moment when
his friends, doubtful of his deportment and his sobriety, dared
scarcely speak of some of their former good dinners, he was the
first to propose that they should all assemble round some well-
spread table, and abandon themselves unreservedly to their own
natural character and manners, a freedom which had formerly
contributed so much to the good understanding between them as
to give them the name of the inseparables. For different reasons
this was an agreeable proposition to them all, and it was therefore
agreed that each should leave a very exact address, and that upon
the request of any of the associates, a meeting should be convoked
at a famous eating-house in the Rue de la Monnaie, of the sign
of the Hermitage; the first rendezvous was fixed for the following
Wednesday, at eight o'clock in the evening precisely.
On that day, in fact, the four friends arrived punctually at the
said hour, each from his own abode. Porthos had been trying a
new horse ; D'Artagnan came from being on guard-at the Louvre;
Aramis had been to visit one of his penitents in the neighbourhood;
and Athos, whose domicile was established in the Rue Guene-
gaud, found himself close at hand. They were therefore somewhat
surprised to meet altogether at the door of the Hermitage ; Athos
starting out from the Pont Neuf, Porthos by the Rue du Roule,
D'Artagnan by the Rue des Fossees St. Germain l'Auxerrois, and
Aramis by the Rue de Bethisy.
The first words exchanged between the four friends, on account
of the ceremony which each of them mingled with their demon-
stration, were somewhat forced, and even the repast began with a
kind of stiffness. Athos perceived this embarrassment, and by
way of supplying a prompt remedy, called for four bottles of
champagne.
At this order, given in Athos's habitually calm manner, the face
of the Gascon relaxed, and Porthos' brow was smooth. Aramis
was astonished. He knew that Athos not only never drank, but
that more, he had a kind of repugnance to wine. This astonish-
ment was doubled when Aramis saw Athos fill a bumper, and
i88
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
drink with his former enthusiasm. His companions following his
example, in an instant the four bottles were empty, and this ex-
cellent specific succeeded in dissipating even the slightest cloud
which might have rested on their spirits. Now the four friends
began to speak loud, scarcely waiting till one had finished for
another to begin, and to assume each his favourite attitude on or
at" the table. Soon—strange fact—Aramis unfastened two buttons
of his doublet, seeing which, Porthos unhooked his entirely.
Battles, long journeys, blows given and received, sufficed for the
first subject of conversation; which then turned upon the silent
■ struggles sustained against him who was now called the great
Cardinal.
" Faith," said Aramis, laughing, " we have praised the dead
enough, let us revile the living a little. I should like to say some-
thing evil of Mazarin ; is it allowed ?"
" Go on—go on," replied D'Artagnan, laughing heartily, " relate
your story, and I will applaud if it is a good one."
" A great prince," said Aramis, " with whom Mazarin sought
an alliance, was invited by him to send him a list of the conditions
on which he would do him the honour to negotiate with him.
The prince, who had a great repugnance to treat with such an ill-
bred fellow, made his list against the grain, and sent it. In this
list there were three conditions which displeased Mazarin, and he
offered the. prince ten thousand crowns to renounce them."
" Ah, ah, ah !" exclaimed the three friends, " not a bad bargain;
and there was no fear of being taken at his word; what did the
prince then ?"
"The prince immediately sent'fifty thousand francs to Mazarin
begging him never to write to him again, and offered twenty
thousand francs more, on condition that he would never speak
to him."
" What did Mazarin do ?"
" He stormed ?" suggested Athos.
" He beat the messenger ?" cried Porthos.
" He accepted the money ?" said D Artagnan.
" You have guessed it," answered Aramis; and they all laughed
so heartily, that the host appeared in, order to inquire whether
these gentlemen wanted anything; he thought they were
fighting.
At last their hilarity was calmed, and—
" Faith !" exclaimed D'Artagnan to his two friends, " you' may
well wish ill to Mazarin; for I assure you, on his side, he wishes
you no good."
A DINNER IN THA OLD ST^LE. 189
rtPooh! really?" asked Athos. "If I thought that the fellow
knew me by my name, I would be -re-baptised, for fear I should
be thought to know him."
" He knows you better by your actions than by your name; he
is quite aware that there are two gentlemen who have greatly aided
the escape of Monsieur de Beaufort, and he has instigated an active
search for them, I can answer for it."
« By whom ?"
" By me j and this morning he sent for me to ask me if I had
obtained any information."
" And what did you reply?"
" That I had none yet; but that I was to dine to-day with two
gentlemen, who would be able to give me some."
" You told him that ?" said Porthos, his broad smile spreading
over his honest face, " bravo ! and you are not afraid of that,
Athos ?"
"No," replied Athos; "it is not the search of Mazarin that I
fear."
" Now," said Aramis, "tell me a little what you do fear." '
"Nothing for the present, at least, in good earnest."
" And with regard to the past ?" asked Porthos.
"Oh! the past is another thing," said Athos, sighing; "the
past and the future."
" Are you afraid for your young Raoul ?" asked Aramis.
" Well," said D'Artagnan, " one is never killed in a first en-
gagement."
"Nor in the second," said Aramis.
" Nor in the third," returned Porthos; " and even when one is
killed, one rises again, the proof of which is, that here we are !"
"No," said Athos, "it is not Raoul about whom I am anxious,
for I trust he will conduct himself like a gentleman; and if he is
killed—well—he will die bravely ; but hold—should such a mis-
fortune happen—well " Athos passed his hand across his pale
brow.
"Well?" asked Aramis.
"Well, I shall look upon it as an expiation."
"Oh l' ah !" said D'Artagnan ; " I know what you mean."
" And I, too," added Aramis; " but you must not think of
that, Athos; what is past is past."
" I don't understand," said Porthos.
" The affair at Armentieres," whispered D'Artagnan.
" The affair at Armentieres ?" asked he again.
« Milady."
106
Twenty years after.
" Oh, yes !" said Porthos; " true, I had forgotten it.'*,
Athos looked at him intently.
. "You have forgotten it, Porthos ?" said he.
" Faith ! yes, it is so long ago," answered Porthos.
" This thing does not, then, weigh on your conscience ?"
"Faith, no."
" And you, D'Artagnan ?"
" I—I own that when my mind returns to that terrible period, I
have no recollection of anything but the stiffened corpse of that
poor Madame Bonacieux. Yes, yes," murmured he, " I have often
felt regret for the victim, but never any remorse for the assassin."
Athos shook his head doubtfully.
"Consider," said Aramis, "if you admit divine justice and its
participation in the things of this world, that woman was punished
by the will of heaven. We were but the instruments—that is all."
" But as to free will, Aramis ?"
" How acts the judge? He has a free will, and he condemns
fearlessly. What does the executioner ? he is master of his arm,
and yet he strikes without remorse."
" The executioner!" muttered Athos, as if arrested by some
recollection.
" I know that it is terrible," said D'Artagnan ; " but when I re-
fleet that we have killed English, Rochellais, Spaniards, nay, even
French, who never did us any other harm but to aim at and to miss
us, whose only fault was to cross swords with us, and not to be
able to ward us off quick enough—I can, on my honour, And -an
excuse for my share of the murder of that woman."
"As for me," said Porthos, "now that you have reminded me
of it, Athos, I have the scene again before me, as if I was there !
Milady was there, as it were in your place." (Athos changed
colour.) "I—I was where D'Artagnan stands. I wore a short
sword which cut like a Damascus—you remember it, Aramis, for
you "
" And you, Aramis ?"
" Well, I think of it sometimes," said Aramis. " And I swear
to you all three, that had the executioner of Bethune—was he not
of Bethune ?—yes, egad 1 of Bethune !—not been there, I would
have cut off the head of that infamous being without remembering
who I am, and even remembering it. She was a bad woman."
" And then," resumed Aramis, with the tone of philosophical
indifference which he had assumed since he had belonged to the
Church, and in which there was more atheism than confidence in
God, " what is the use of thinking of all that ? At the last hour
A DINNER IN THE OLD STYLE.
191
,We must confess this action, and God knows better than we can
whether it is a crime, a fault, or a meritorious action, /repent of
it ? Egad ! no. By honour, and by the holy cross, I only regret
it because she was a woman."
" The most satisfactory part of the matter," said D'Artagnan, "is
that there remains no trace of it."
"She had a-son," observed Athos.
" Oh ! yes; I know that," said D'Artagnan, " and you mentioned
it to me; but who knows what has become of him ? If the serpent
be dead, why not its brood ? Do you think that his uncle De
Winter would have brought up that young viper ? De Winter pro-
bably condemned the son as he had done the mother."
" Then," said Athos, " woe to De Winter, for the child had done
no harm."
" May the devil take me if the child be not dead," said Porthos.
"There is so much fog in that detestable country, at least so
D'Artagnan declares."
Just as this conclusion arrived at by Porthos was about probably
to bring back hilarity to the faces now more or less clouded, foot-
steps were heard on the stair, and some one knocked at the
door.
" Come in," cried Athos.
"Please your honours," said the host, "a person, in a great
hurry, wishes to speak to one of you."
" To which of us ?" asked all the four friends.
"To him who is called the Count de la Fere."
" It is I," said Athos; "and what is the name of the person ?"
" Grimaud."
" Ah!" exclaimed Athos, turning pale. " Returned already.
What has happened, then, to Bragelonne ?"
"Let him enter," cried D'Artagnan, "let him come up,"
But Grimaud had already mounted the staircase, and was wait-
ing on the last step; so springing into the room, he motioned ■ the
host to leave it. The door being closed, the four friends waited in
expectation. Grimaud's agitation, his pallor, the sweat which
covered his face, the dust which soiled his clothes, all indicated
that he was the messenger of some important and terrible news.
" Your honours," said he, " that woman had a child; that child
has become a man; the tigress had a little one, the tiger has roused
himself; he is ready to spring upon you—beware !"
Athos glanced around at his friends with a melancholy smile.
Porthos turned to look at his sword which was hung up against the
vrall; Aramis seized his knife; D'Artagnan rose.
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" What do you mean, Grimaud ?" he exclaimed.
"That milady's son has left England; that he is in France oh
his road to Paris, if he be not here already."
" The devil he is !" said Porthos. " Are you sure of it ?"
" Certain !" replied Grimaud.
This announcement was received in silence. Grimaud was so
breathless, so exhausted, that he had fallen back upon a chair.
Athos filled a glass with champagne, and gave it to him.
" Well, and after all," said D'Artagnan, " supposing that he
lives, that he comes to Paris, we have seen many other such. Let
him come."
"Yes," echoed Porthos, stroking his sword, suspended to the
wall, "we can wait for him, let him come."
" Moreover, he is but a child," said Aramis.
Grimaud rose.
" A child !" he exclaimed. " Do you know what he has done
—this child ? Disguised as a monk, he discovered the whole
history in confession from the executioner of Bethune, and having
confessed him, after having learnt everything from him, he gave
him absolution by planting this dagger into his heart. See, it is
still red and wet, for it is not thirty hours ago since it was drawn
from the wound."
. And Grimaud threw the dagger on the table.
D'Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis rose, and in one spontaneous
motion rushed to their swords. Athos alone remained seated,
calm and thoughtful.
" And you say he is dressed as a monk, Grimaud ?"
"Yes, as an Augustine monk.3
" What sized man is he ?"
" About my height, the host said; thin, pale, with light-blue
eyes, and light hair."
" And he did not see Raoul ?" asked Athos.
"Yes, on the contrary, they met, and it was the viscount him-
self who conducted him to the bed of the dying man."
Athos rose, in his turn, without speaking—went, and unhooked
his sword.
" Heigh, sir," said D'Artagnan, trying to laugh; " do you know
we look very much like silly women ! How is it that we, four men,
who have faced armies without blinking, begin to tremble at the
sight of a child !"
"Yes," said Athos, "but this child comes in the name of
Heaven."
And they hastily quitted the inn.
A LETTEE-FROM CHARLES THE FIRST.
CHAPTER X^XIV.
a letter from charles the first.
The reader must now .cross the Seine with us, and follow us to
the door of the Carmelite Convent in the Rue St. Jacques. It is
eleven o'clock in the morning, and the pious sisters have just
finished saying a mass for the success of the armies of King
Charles I. Leavifig the church, a woman and a young girl dressed
in black, the one as a widow and the other as an orphan, have re-
entered, their cell.
The woman kneels on a prie-Dieu of painted wood, and at a
short distance from her stands the young girl, leaning against a
chair, weeping.
The woman must have been handsome, but the traces of sorrow
have aged her. The young girl is lovely, and her tears only em-
bellish her; the lady appears to be about forty years of age, the
girl about fourteen.
" Oh, God!" prayed the kneeling suppliant, " protect my
husband, guard my son^ and take my wretched life instead !"
" Oh, God !" murmured the girl, " leave me my mother !"
"Your mother can be of no use to you in this world, Henrietta,"
said the lady, turning round. "Your mother has no longer either
throne or husband, nor son, nor money, nor friends—the whole
world, my poor child, has abandoned your mother !" And she
fell back, weeping, into her daughter's arms.
" Courage, take courage, my dear mother !" said the girl.
" Ah! 'tis an unfortunate year for kings," said the mother.
"And no one thinks of us in this country, for each must think of
his own affairs. As long as your brother was with me he kept me
up; but he is gone, and can no longer send us news of himself,
either to me or to your father. I have pawned my last jewels, sold
all your clothes and my own to pay his servants, who refused to
accompany him unless I made this sacrifice. We are now reduced
to live at the expense of these daughters of Heaven; we are the
poor succoured by God."
" But why not address yourself to your sister the queen ?" asked
the girl.
" Alas.! the queen, my sister, is no longer queen, my child.
Another reigns in her name. One day you will be able to under-
stand how this is."
"Well, then, to the king, your nephew; shall I speak to him?
You know how much he loves me, my mother."
13
194 TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
" Alas ! my nephew is not yet king, and you know Laporte
has told* us twenty times that he himself is in need of almost
everything."
" Then let us pray to Heaven," said the girl.
The two women who thus knelt together in prayer were the
daughter and granddaughter of Henry IV., the wife and daughter
of Charles I.
They had jilst finished their double prayer, when a nun softly
tapped at the door of the cell.
" Enter, my sister," said the queen. *
" I trust your majesty will pardon this intrusion on her'medita-
tions, but a foreign lord has arrived from England, and waits in
the parlour, demanding the honour of presenting a letter to
your majesty."
" Oil! a letter! a letter from the king, perhaps. News
from your father, do you hear, Henrietta—And the name of this
lord ?"
" Lord de Winter."
" Lord de Winter !" exclaimed the queett, " the friend of my
husband. Oh, let him come in !"
And the queen advanced to meet the messenger, whose hand
she seized affectionately, whilst he knelt down, and presented a
letter to her contained in a gold case.
" Ah ! my lord," said the queen, " you bring us three things
which we have not seen for a long time. Gold, a devoted friend,
and a letter from the king, our husband and master."
De Winter bowed again, unable to reply from excess of
emotion.
On their side the mother and daughter retired into the embra-
sure of a window to read eagerly the following letter:
" Dear Wife,—We have now reached the moment of decision,
I have concentrated here at Naseby camp all the resources which
Heaven has'left me; and I write to you in haste from thence.
Here I await the army of my rebellious subjects, and I am about
to fight for the last time against them. If victorious, I shall con-
tinue the struggle; if beaten, I am completely lost I shall try,
in the latter case (alas! in our position, one must provide for every-
thing), I shall try to gain the coast of France. But can they, will
they receive an unhappy king, who will bring such a sad story
into a country already agitated by civil discord ? Xour wisdom
and your affection must serve me as guides. The bearer of this
letter will tell you, madam, what I dare not trust to the risk of
A LETTER EROM CHARLES THE FIRST.
195
miscarrying. He will explain to you the steps which I expect you
to pursue. I charge him also with my blessing for my children,
and with the sentiments of my heart for yourself, dear wife."
The letter bore the signature, not of " Charles, King," but of
"Charles—still king."
" And let him be no longer king," cried the queen. " Let him
be conquered, exiled, proscribed, provided he still lives. Alas ! in
these days the throne is too dangerous a place for me to wish him
to keep it! Bdt, my lord, tell me," she continued, " hide nothing
from me—what is, in truth, the king's position ? Is it as hopeless
as he thinks ?"
" Alas i madame—more hopeless than he thinks. His majesty
has so good a heart, that he cannot understand hatred;—is so
loyal, that he does not suspect treason ! England is disturbed by a
spirit of excitement, which, I greatly fear, blood alone can
extinguish."
" But, Lord Montrose," replied the queen, " I have heard of
his great and rapid successes, of battles gained. I heard it said
that he was marching to the frontier to join the king."
" Yes, madame; but on the frontier he was met by Lesly, he had
tired victory by means of superhuman undertakings. Now victory
has abandoned him. Montrose, beaten at Philiphaugh, was obliged
to disperse the remains of his army, and to fly disguised as a
servant. He is at Bergen, in Norway."
" Heaven preserve him !" said the queen. " It is at least a con-'
solation to know that some who have so often risked their lives
for us are in safety. And now, my lord, that I see how hopeless
the position of the king is, tell me with what you are charged on
the part of my royal husband."
" Well, then, madame," said De Winter, " the king wishes
you to try and discover the dispositions of the king and queen
towards him."
" Alas! you know, the king is but still a child, and the queen
is a woman weak enough too. Monsieur Mazarin is everything
here."
tc Does he desire to play the1 part in France that Cromwell plays
in England?"
" Oh, no ! He is a subtle and cunning Italian, who, though
he may dream of crime, dares never commit it; and unlike
Cromwell, who disposes of both Houses, Mazarin has had the
queen to support him in his struggle with the parliament."
t "—More reason, then, that he should protect a king pursued by
his parliament."
13—2
196
TWENTY YEARS AE'TER.
The queeil shook her head despairingly.
"If I judge for myself, my lord," she said, "the Cardinal will dd
nothing, and will even, perhaps, act against us. The presence of
my daughter and myself in France is already irksome to him;
much mc^re so would be that of the king. My lord," added
Henrietta, with a melancholy smile, "it is sad, and almost shame-
ful, to be obliged to say that we have passed the winter. in the
Louvre without money, without linen—almost without bread, and
often not rising from bed because we wanted fire."
" Horrible !" cried De Winter ; " the daughter of Henry IV.,
and the wife of King Charles ! Wherefore did you not apply then,
madame, to the first person you saw from us ?"
" Such is the hospitality shown to a queen by the minister, from
whom a king would demand it."
" But I heard that a marriage between the Prince of Wales and
Mademoiselle d'Orleans was spoken of," said De Winter.
"Yes, for an instant I hoped it was so. The young people felt
a mutual esteem; but the queen, who at first sanctioned their
affection, changed her mind, and Monsieur the Due d'Orleans,
who had encouraged the familiarity between them, has forbidden
his daughter to think any longer about the union. Oh, my lord !"
continued the queen, without restraining her tears, "it is better to
fight as the king has done, and to die, as perhaps he will, than to
live begging as I have."
" Courage, madame ! courage ! Do not despair ! The interests
of the French crown—endangered this moment—are to discourage
civil rebellion in a nation so near to it. Mazarin, as a statesman,
will understand the necessity of doing so."
" But are you sure," said the queen doubtfully, " that you have
not been forestalled ?"
" By whom ?"
"By the Joyces, the Prinns, the Cromwells."
" By a tailor, by a coachmaker, by a brewer! Ah ! I hope,
madame, that the Cardinal will not enter into negotiations with
such men !"
"Ah ! what wishes he himself?" asked Madame Henrietta.
i "Solely the honour of th'e king—of the queen."
" Well, let us hope that he will do something for the sake of
their honour," said the queen. " A true friend's eloquence is so
powerful, my lord, that you have reassured me. Give me your
hand, and let us go to the minister; and yet," she added, " suppose'
he refuse, and that the king loses the battle !"
" His majesty will then take refuge in Holland, where I hear
that his highness the Prince of Wales is."
A LETTER FROM CHARLES THE FIRST
157
" And can his majesty count upon many such subjects as your-
self for his fight ?"
" Alas ! no, madame," answered De Winter; " but the case is
provided for, and I am come to France to seek allies."
" Allies !" said the queen, shaking her head.
" Madame !" replied De Winter, " provided I can find some old
friends of former times, I will answer for anything."
" Come, then, my lord," said the queen, with the painful ddubt
that is felt by those who have suffered much; " come, and may
Heaven hear you."
CHAPTER XXXV.
cromwell's letter.
At the very moment when the queen quitted the convent to go to
the Palais Royale, a young man dismounted at the gate of this
royal abode, and announced to the guards that he had something
of consequence to communicate to Cardinal Mazarin. Although
the Cardinal was often tormented by fear, he was more often in
need of counsel and information, and he was therefore sufficiently
accessible. The true difficulty of being admitted was not to be
found at the first door, and even the second was passed easily
enough; but at the third watched, besides the guard and the
doorkeepers, the faithful Bernouin, a Cerberus whom no speech
could soften; no wand, even of gold, could charm.
It was, therefore, at the third door, that those who solicited or
were bid to an audience, underwent a formal interrogatory.
The young man, having left his horse tied to the gate in the
court, mounted the great staircase, and addressed the guard in the
first chamber.
" Cardinal Mazarin ?" said he.
" Pass on," replied the guard.
The cavalier entered the second hall, which was guarded by the
Musketeers and doorkeepers.
" Have you a letter of audience ?" asked a porter, advancing to
the new arrival.
" I have one, but not from Cardinal Mazarin."
" Enter, and ask for Monsieur Bernouin," said the porter, open-
ing the door of the third room. Whether he but held his usual
post, or whether it might be by accident, but Monsieur Bernouin
was found standing behind the door, and must have heard all that
had passed,
198
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"You seek me, sir?" said he. ''From whom may the letter be
that you bear to his Eminence ?"
"From the General Oliver Cromwell," said the new comer.
"Be so good as to mention this name to his Eminence, and to bring
me word whether he will receive me—yes or no."
Saying which, he resumed the dark and proud bearing peculiar
at that time to the Puritans. Bernouin cast an inquisitorial
glance at the person of the young man, and entered the cabinet
of the Cardinal, to whom he transmitted the messenger's words.
" A man bringing a letter from Oliver Cromwell ?" said Mazarin.
" And what kind of a man ?"
" A true Englishman, your Eminence. Hair sandy-red—more
red than sandy; grey blue eyes—more gray than blue; and for
the rest, stiff and proud."
" Let him give in his letter."
"His Eminence asks for the letter," said Bernouin, passing
back into the antechamber.
"His Eminence cannot see the letter without the bearer of it,"
replied the young man; " but to convince you that L am really
the bearer of a letter, see, here it is; and add," continued he,
"that I am not a simple messenger, but an envoy extraordinary."
Bernouin re-entered the cabinet, and returning in a few seconds,
—" Enter, sir," said he.
The young man appeared on the threshold of the minister's
closet; in one hand holding his hat, in the other the letter. Mazarin
rose. " Have you, sir," asked he, " a letter accrediting you to
me ?"
" There it is my lord," said the young man.
Mazarin took the letter, and read it thus :
" Mr. Mordaunt, one of my secretaries, will remit this letter of
introduction to his Eminence, the Cardinal Mazarin, in 'Paris.
He is also the bearer of a second confidential epistle for his
Eminence.
" Oliver Cromwell."
"Very well, Monsieur Mordaunt," said Mazarin, "give me the
second letter, and sit down."
The young man drew from his pocket the second letter, pre-
sented it to the Cardinal, and sat down. The Cardinal, however,
did not unseal the letter at once, but continued to turn it again
and again in his hand ; then, in accordance with his usual cus-
torn, and judging from experience that few people could hide
anything from him, when he began to question them, fixing his
CROMWELL'S LETTER.
199
eyes upon them, 'at the same time, he thus addressed the mes-
senger:
" You are very young, Monsieur Mordaunt, for this difficult
task of ambassador, in which the oldest diplomatists sometimes
fail."
" My lord, I am twenty-three years of age; but your Eminence
is mistaken in saying that I am young. I am older than your
Eminence, although I possess not your wisdom. Years of suffering,
in my opinion, count double, and I have suffered for twenty years."
" Ah, yes, I understand," said Mazarin; " want of fortune, per-
haps. You are poor—are you not ?" Then he added to himself
—"These English revolutionists are all beggars and ill-bred."
" My lord, I ought to have a fortune of three hundred a-year,
but it has been taken from me."
"You are not then a man of the people?" said Mazarin, as-
tonished.
" If I bore my title I should be a lord. If I bore my name,
you would have heard one of the most illustrious names of
England."
"What is your-name, then?" asked Mazarin.
" My name is Mordaunt," replied the young man, bowing.
Mazarin now understood that Cromwell's envoy desired to retain
his incognito. He was silent for an instant, and during that time
he scanned the young man even more attentively than he had
done at first. The messenger was unmoved.
" Devil take these Puritans," said Mazarin aside ; " they are cut
out of marble." Then he added aloud, "But you have relations
left to you ?"
" I have one lemaining, and three times I have presented my-
self to him to asf his support, and three times he has desired his
servants to turn rie away."
" Oh, mon Dieu! my dear Mr. Mordaunt," said Mazarin,
hoping, by a display of affected pity, to catch the young man in 'a
snare, "how extrenely. your history interests me ! You know not,
then, anything of your birth, you have never seen your mother ?"
" Yes, my lord; sie came three times, while I was a child, to
my nurse's house; I remember the last time she came as well as
if it were to-day."
" You have a good memory," said Mazarin.
" Oh ! yes, my lord!" said the young man, with such peculiar
emphasis that the Cardinal felt a shudder run through all his veins.
" And who brought'mu up ?" he asked again.
"A French nurse, wio sent me>iway when I was five years old,
2C0
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
because no one paid her for me, telling me the name of a relation,
-of whom she had heard my mother often speak."
" What became of you ?"
" As I was weeping and begging on the high road, a minister
from Kingston took me in,, instructed me in the Calvinistic faith,
taught me all he knew himself, and aided me in my researches
after my family."
" And these researches ?"
"Were fruitless ; chance did everything."
"You discovered what had become of your mother ?"
" I learnt that she had been assassinated by my relation, aided
by four friends, but I was already aware that I had been robbed of
all my wealth, and degraded from my nobility, by King Charles I."
" Oh ! I now understand why you are in the service of Crom-
well; you hate the king.'
" Yes, my lord, I hate him !" said the young man.
Mazarin marked, with surprise, the diabolical expression with
which the young man uttered these words; as, in general, ordinary
countenances are coloured by the blood—his face seemed dyed by
hatred, and became livid.
" Your history is a terrible one, Mr. Mordaunt, and touches me
keenly; but, happily for you, you serve an all-powerful master, he
ought to aid you in your search; we have so many means of gain-
ing information."
" My lord, to a dog of good breed it is only necessary to show
but one end of a track, that he may be certain to reach the qther
end."
" But this relation whom you mentioned, do you wish me to
speak to him ?" said Mazarin, who was anxious to make a friend
about Cromwell's person.
"Thanks, my lord, I will speak to him myself; he will treat me
better the next time I see him."
" You- have the means, then, of touching hih ?"
" I have the means of making myself feared"
Mazarin looked at the young man, but, at the fire which shot
from his glance, he bent down his head; tlen, embarrassed how
to continue such a conversation, he opened (Cromwell's letter. It
was lengthy, and began by alluding to the situation of England,
and announcing that he was on the eve of/a decisive engagement
with King Charles, and certain of success, j He then adverted to
the hospitality and protection afforded \P France to Henrietta
Maria, and continued : I
" As regards King Charles, the questioi] must be viewed differ-
CR OMWELL'S LE TIER.
201
ently; in receiving and aiding him France will censure the acts of
the English nation, and thus so essentially do harm to England,
and especially to the progress of the Government which she reckons
upon forming, so that such a proceeding will be equal to flagrant
hostilities."
At this moment Mazarin became very uneasy at the turn which
the letter was taking, and paused to glance under his eyes at the
young man. The latter continued lost in thought. Mazarin re-
sumed his reading of the General's worthy epistle, which ended by
demanding perfect neutrality from France :
" A neutrality," it said, " which was solely to consist in exclud-
ing King Charles from the French territories, nor to aid a king so
entirely a stranger, either by arms, money, or troops. Farewell,
sir; should we not receive a reply in the space of fifteen days, I
shall presume my letter wfill have miscarried.
"Oliver Cromwell."
" Mr. Mordaunt," said the Cardinal, raising his voice, as if to
arouse the thinker, " my reply to this letter will be more satisfactory
to General Cromwell if I am convinced that all are ignorant of my
having given one; go, therefore, and await it at Boulogne-sur-Mer,
and promise me to set out to-morrow morning."
" I promise, my lord," replied Mordaunt; " but how many days
will your Eminence oblige me to await your reply r"
" If you do not receive it in ten days, you can leave."
Mordaunt bowed.
"It is not all, sir," continued Mazarin; "your private adventures
have touched me to the quick; besides, the letter from Mr. Crom-
well makes you an important person in my eyes as ambassador;
come, tell me what can I do for you ?"
Mordaunt reflected a moment, and, after some hesitation, was
about to speak, when Bernouin entered hastily, and, bending down
to the ear of the Cardinal, whispered to him :
"My lord, the Queen Fleririetta Maria, accompanied by an
English noble, is just entering the Palais Royale at this moment."
. Mazarin made a bound from his chair, which did not escape the
attention of the young man, and repressed the confidence he was
about to make.
" Sir," said the Cardinal, " you have heard me ? I fix on Bou-
logne because I presume that every town in France is indifferent
to you; if you prefer another, name it; but you can easily conceive
that, surrounded as I am by influences from which I can escape
alone by means of discretion, I desire your presence in Paris to be
ignored."
202
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" I shall go, sir," said Mordaunt, advancing a few steps to the
door by whiqh he had entered.
" No, not that way I beg, sir," quickly exclaimed the Cardinal;
" be so good as to pass by that gallery, by which you can gain the
hall; I do not wish you to be seen leaving—our interview must be
kept secret.
Mordaunt followed Bernouin, who conducted him through a
neighbouring chamber, and left him with a doorkeeper showing
him the way out,
CHAPTER XXXVI.
henrietta maria and mazarin.
The Cardinal rose, and advanced in haste to receive the Queen of
England. He showed the more respect to this queen, deprived
of all pomp, and without followers, as he felt some self-reproach
for his own want of heart and his avarice. But suppliants for favour
know how to vary the expression of their features, and the daughter
of Henry IV. smiled as she advanced to meet one whom she
hated and despised.
" Ah !" said Mazarin to himself, " what a sweet face ! does she
come to borrow money of me ?"
And he threw an uneasy glance at his strong box; he even
turned inside the bevel of the magnificent diamond ring, the
brilliancy of which drew every eye upon his hand, which indeed
was handsome and white.
"Your Eminence," said the, august visitor, "it was my first
intention to speak of the affairs which have brought me here, to.
the queen, my sister, but I have reflected that political matters are
more especially the concerns of men."
"Madame," said Mazarin, "be assured that your majesty over-
whelms me with this flattering distinction."
"He is very gracious," thought the queen; "has he guessed
my errand, then ?"
" Give," continued the Cardinal, " your commands to the most
respectful o( your servants.'
" Alas, sir," replied the queen, " I have lost the habit of giving
commands, and have adopted instead that of making petit-ions ; I
am come to petition you, too happy should my prayer be heard
favourably."
" I listen, madame, with interest," said Mazarin.
HENRIETTA MARIA AND MAZARIN. . 203
" Your Eminence, it concerns the war which the king, my
husband, now sustains against his rebellious subjects. You are,
perhaps, ignorant that they are fighting in England," added she,
with a melancholy smile, " and that, in a short time, they will
fight in a much more decided fashion than they have done
hitherto."
" I am completely ignorant of it, madame," said the Cardinal,
accompanying his words with a slight shrug of the shoulders ; " alas,
our own wars have quite absorbed the time and the mind of a
poor, incapable, and infirm minister like myself."
" Well, then, your Eminence," said the queen, " I must inform
you that Charles I., my husband, is on the eve of a decisive en-
gagement. In case of a check—" (Mazarin made a slight move-
ment) " one must foresee everything; in case of a check, he
desires to retire into France, and to live here as a private indi-
vidual. What do you say to this project ?"
The- Cardinal had listened without permitting a single fibre of
his face to betray what he felt, and his smile remained as it ever
was—false and flattering, and, when the queen finished speaking,
he said:
" Do you think, madame, that France, agitated and disturbed as
it is, Would be a safe refuge for a dethroned king ? How will
the crown, which is so scarce firmly set on the head of Louis IV.,
support a double weight ?"
" This weight was not so heavy when I was in. peril," interrupted
the queen, with a sad smile, " and I ask no more for my husband
than has been done for me; you see that we are very humble
monarchs, sir."
1 " Oh, you, madame, you," the Cardinal hastened to say, in order
to cut short the explanations which he foresaw were coming, " with
regard to you, that is another thing; a daughter of Henry IV., of
that great, that sublime sovereign "
" All which does not prevent you refusing hospitality to his son-
in-law, sir ! Nevertheless, you ought to remember that that great,
that sublime monarch, when proscribed at one time, as my husband
may be, demanded aid from England, and that England accorded
it to him; and it is but just to say that Queen Elizabeth was not
his niece."
"Peccato !" said Mazarin, writhing beneath this simple eloquence,
" your majesty does not understand me; you judge my inten
tions wrongly, and that is because doubtless I explain myself ill
jn French."
(< Speak Italian, sir: ere the Cardinal, your predecessor, sent
204
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
'our mother, Marie de Medicis, to die in exile, she taught us that
language. If anything yet remains of that great, that sublime
king, Henry, of whom you have just spoken, he would be much
surprised at so little pity for his family being united to such a
profound admiration of himself."
The perspiration hung in large drops upon Mazarin's brow.
" That admiration is, on the contrary, so great, so real, madame,"
returned Mazarin, without noticing the change of language offered
to him by the queen, "that if the king, Charles I., whom Heaven
protect from evil! came into France, I would offer him my house
—my own house—but, alas ! it would be but an unsafe retreat.
Some day the people will burn that house, as they burnt that of
the Marechal d'Ancre. Poor Concino Concini! and yet he but
desired the good of the people.'
" Yes, my lord, like yourself!" said the queen ironically.
Mazarin pretended not to understand the double meaning of
his own sentence, but continued to compassionate the fate of
Concino Concini.
" Well, then, your Eminence," said the queen, becoming im-
patient, "what is your answer?"
"Madame," cried Mazarin, more and more moved, "will your
majesty permit me to give you counsel ?"
" Speak, sir," replied the queen; " the counsels of so prudent a
man as yourself ought certainly to'be good."
" Madame, believe me, the king ought to defend himself to the
last."
" He has done so, sir, and this last battle, which he encounters
with resources much inferior to those of the enemy, proves that
he will not yield without a struggle; but, in case he is beaten ?"
" Well, madame, in that case my advice—I know that I am very
bold to offer advice to your majesty—my advice is that the king
should not leave his kingdom. Absent kings are very soon for-
gotten; if he passes over to France his cause is lost."
" But then," persisted the queen, " if such be your advice, and
you have his interest at heart, send him some help of men and
money, for I can do nothing for him : I have sold even to my last
diamond to aid him. If I had had a single ornament left, I
should have bought wood this winter to make a fire for my.daughter
and myself."
"Oh, madame," said Mazarin, "your Majesty knows not what
you ask. On the day when foreign succour follows in the train of
a king to replace him on his throne, it is an avowal that he no
longer possesses the help and the love of his subjects."
HILMRIETTA MARIA AND MAZARltf.
205
"To the point, sir," said the queen, "to the point, and answer
me, yes or no; if the king persists in remaining in England, will
you send him succour ? If he comes to France, will you accord
him hospitality? What do you intend to do ?—speak."
"I will go this instant and consult the queen, and we will refer
the affair at once to the parliament."
"With which you are at war, is it not so? You will charge
Broussel to report it. Enough, sir, enough. I understand you,
or rather, I am wrong. Go to the parliament; for it was from
this parliament, the enemy of monarchs, that the daughter of the
great, the sublime Henry IV., whom you so much admire, received
the only relief this winter, which prevented her from dying of
hunger and cold !"
And with these words Henrietta rose in majestic indignation,
whilst the Cardinal, raising his hands jclasped towards her, ex-
claimed, "Ah, madame, madame, how little you know me, mon
Dieu!"
"It signifies little," said Mazarin, when he was alone; "it gave
me pain, and it is an ungracious part to play. But I have said
nothing either to the one or to the other. . Bernouin !"
Bernouin entered.
" See if the young man with the black doublet and the short
hair, who was with me just now, is still in the palace."
Bernoulli went out, and soon returned with Comminges, who
was on guard.
"Your Eminence," said Comminges, "as I was re-conducting
the young man for whom you have asked, he approached the
glass door of the gallery, and gazed intently upon some object,
doubtless the picture by Raphael, which is opposite the door. He
reflected for a second, and then descended the stairs. I believe
I saw him mount on a grey horse and leave the palace court.
But is not your Eminence going to the queen ?"
" For what purpose ?" •
"Monsieur de Guitant, my uncle, has just told me that her
majesty has received news of the army."
" It is well—I will go."
Comminges had seen rightly, and Mordaunt had really acted as
he had related. In crossing the gallery parallel to the large glass
gallery, he perceived De Winter, who was waiting until the. queen
had finished her negotiation.
At this sight the young man stopped short, not in admiration
of Raphael's picture, but as if fascinated at the sight of some ter-
rible object. His eyes dilated, and a shudder ran through his
2o5
T WEN TV YEARS AFTER.
body." One would have said that he longed to break through the
wall of glass which separated him from his enemy; for if Com-
minges had seen with what an expression of hatred the eyes of
this young man were fixed upon De Winter, he would not have
doubted for an instant but that the English lord was his mortal foe.
But he stopped—'doubtless to reflect; for, instead of allowing
his first impulse, which had been to go straight to Lord De
Winter, to carry him away, he leisurely descended the staircase,
left the palace with his head down, mounted his horse, which he
reined in at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, and with his eyes
fixed on the gate, he waited until the queen's carriage had left
the court.
He did not wait long, for the queen scarcely remained a quarter
of'an hour with Mazarin • but this quarter of an hour of expecta-
tion, appeared a century to him. At last the heavy machine,
which was called a chariot in those days, came out, rumbling
against the gates, and De Winter, still on horseback, bent again to
the door to converse with her majesty.
The horses started into a trot, and took the road to the Louvre,
which they entered. Before leaving the convent of the Carmelites,
Henrietta had desired her daughter to attend her at the palace,
which she had inhabited for a long time, and which she had only
left because their poverty seemed to them more difficult to bear
in gilded chambers.
Mordaunt followed the carriage, and when he had watched it
drive under the sombre arches, he went and stationed himself
under a wall over which the shadow was extended, and remained
motionless, amidst the mouldings of Jean Goujon, like a bas-
relievo representing an equestrian statue.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
how, sometimes, the unhappy mistake chance for
providence.
" Well, madame," said De Winter, when the queen had dismissed
her attendants.
"Well, my lord, what I had foreseen has come to pass."
" What ? does the Cardinal refuse to receive the king ? France
refuse hospitality to an unfortunate prince ? But it is for the first
time, madame!"
THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE CHANCE FOR PROVIDENCE. 2o?
" I did not say France, my lord, I said the Cardinal, and the
Cardinal is not even a Frenchman."
" But did you see the queen ?"
" It is useless," replied Henrietta; " the queen will not say yes
when the Cardinal has said no. Are you not aware that this
Italian directs everything, both in doors and out ? And, more-
over,' I should not be surprised had we been forestalled by Crom-
well; he was embarrassed whilst speaking to me, and yet quite
firm in his determination to refuse. Then, did you not observe
the agitation in the Palais Royale, the passing to and fro of busy
people ? Can they have received any news, my lord ?"
"Not from England, madamqM I made such haste that I am
certain of not having been forestalled. I set out three days ago,
passing miraculously through the Puritan army, and I took post-
horses with my servant Tony: the horses upon which, we were
mounted were bought in Paris. Besides, the king, I am certain,
awaits your majesty's reply before risking anything."
"You will tell him, my lord," resumed the queen, despairingly,
" that I can do nothing : that I have suffered as much as himself
—more than he has—obliged as I am to eat the bread of exile,
and to ask hospitality from false friends who smile at my tears;
and as regards his royal person, he must sacrifice it generously,
and die like a king. I shall go and die by his side."
" Madame, madame !" exclaimed De Winter, " your majesty
abandons yourself to despair; and yet, perhaps, there still remains
some hope."
"No friends left, my lord; no other friends left in the whole
World but yourself! Oh God !" exclaimed the poor queen,
raising her eyes to heaven, " have you indeed taken back all the
generous hearts which existed in the world ?"
" I hope not, madame," replied De Winter, thoughtfully; " I
once spoke to you of four men."
" What can be done with four men ?"
" Four devoted, resolute men can do much, be assured, madame ;
and those of whom I speak have done much at one time."
" And these men were your friends ?"
" One of them held my life in his hands, and gave it to me. I
know not whether he is still my friend; but since that time I have
remained his."
" And these men are in France, my lord ?"
" I believe so."
" Tell me their names ; perhaps I have heard them mentioned,
and might be able to aid you in finding them."
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
"One of them was called the Chevalier d'Artagnan."
" Oh ! my lord, if I do not mistake, the Chevalier d'Artagnan
is a lieutenant of the guards; but take care, for • I fear that this
man is devoted entirely to the Cardinal."
" That would be a misfortune," said De Winter, " and I shall
begin to think that we are really doomed."
" But the others," said the queen, who clung to this last-hope
as a shipwrecked man clings to the remains of his vessel: " the
others, my lord !"
" The second—I heard his name by chance ; for before fighting
u^, these four gentlemen told us their names; the second was
called the Count de la Fere. As for the two others, I had so
much the habit of calling them by nicknames, that I hav§ for-
gotten their real ones."
" Oh, mon Dieu, it is a matter of great urgency to find them
out," said the queen, " since you think these -worthy gentlemen
might be so useful to the king."
"Oh, yes," said De Winter, " for they are the same men."
" Well then, my lord, they must be found; but what can four
men, or rather three men, do ?—for I -tell you, you must not count
on Monsieur d'Artagnan."
" It will be one valiant sword the less, but there will remain still
three, without reckoning my own; now four devoted men round
the king to protect him from his enemies,—to be at his side in
battle, to aid him in counsel, to escort him in flight, are sufficient—
not to make the king a conqueror, but to save him if conquered;
and Whatever Mazarin may say—once on the shores of France,
your royal husband may find as many retreats and asylums as the
sea-bird finds in storms."
" Seek them, my lord—seek these gentlemen; and if they will
consent to go with you to England, I will give to each a duchy the
day that we re-ascend the throne, besides as much gold as would
pave Whitehall. Seek them, my lord. Seek them, I conjure you."
"I will search for them well, madame," said De Winter, "and
doubtless I shall find them—but time fails me. Has your
majesty forgotten that the king expects your reply, and awaits
it in agony?"
" Then, indeed, we are lost," cried the queen, in the fulness of
a broken heart.
At this moment the door opened, and the young Henrietta
appeared; then the queen, with that wonderful strength which
is he theroism of a mother, repressed her tears, and motioned
to De Winter to change the subject of conversation.
THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE CHANCE POP PRO VIDENCE. 209
" What do you want, Henrietta ?" she demanded.
" My mother," replied the young princess, " a cavalier has just
entered the Louvre, and wishes to present his respects to your
majesty; he arrives from the army, and has, he says, a letter to
remit to you on the part of the Marechal de Grammont, I
think."
" Ah !" said the queen to De Winter, " he is one of my faithful
adherents; but do you not observe, my dear lord, that we are so
poorly served that it is my daughter who fills the office of intro-
ducer ?"
(i Madame, have pity on me," exclaimed De Winter; " you break
my heart!"
" And who is this cavalier, Henrietta ?" asked the queen.
" I saw him from the window, madame; he is a young man who
appears scarcely sixteen-years of age, and who is called the Viscount,
de Bragelonne."
The queen, smiling, made a sign with her head; the young
princess opened the door, and Raoul appeared on the threshold.
Advancing a few steps towards the queen, he knelt down.
" Madame," said he, " I bear to your Majesty a letter from my
friend the Count de Guiche, who told me he had the honour
of being your servant; this letter contains important news, and the
expression of his respect."
At the name of the Count de Guiche, a blush spread over the
cheeks of the young princes^, and the queen glanced at her with
some degree of severity.
"You told me that the letter was from the Marechal de Gram-
mont, Henrietta !" said the queen.
" I thought so, madame," stammered the young girl.
" It is my fault, madame," said RaQul. " I did announce myself,
in truth,as coming on the part of the Marechal de Grammont; but
being wounded in the right arm, he was unable to write, and there-
fore the Count de Guiche served as his secretary."
" There has been fighting, then ?" asked the queen, motionmg to
Raoul to rise.
" Yes, madame," said the young man.
At this announcement of a battle having taken place, the young
princess opened her lips as if to ask a question of interest.; but
her lips closed again without articulating a word, while the colour
gradually faded from her cheeks.
The queen saw this, and doubtless her maternal heart translated
this emotion, for addressing Raoul again,—
And no evil has happened to the young Count de Guiche ?" she
14
2io( TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
asked;"for not only is he our servant, as you say, sir, but more;
he is one of our friends."
"No, madame," replied Raoul; "on the contrary, he gained
great glory on that day, and had the honour of being embraced by
his highness the prince on the field of battle."
The young princess clasped her hands; and then, ashamed of
having been betrayed into such a demonstration of joy, she half
turned away, and bent over a vase of roses, as if to inhale their odour,
" Let us see," said the queen, "what the count says." And she
opened the letter and read :
" Madame,—Being unable to have the honour of writing to you
myself, by reason of a wound which I have received in the right
hand, I have commanded my son, the Count de Guiche, who with
his father, is equally your humble servant, to write to tell you that
we have just gained the battle of Lens, and that this victory can-
not fail to give great power to the Cardinal Mazarin and to the'
queen over the affairs of Europe. If her majesty will have faith in my
counsels, she ought to profit by this event to address at this moment,
in favour of her august husband, the court of France. The Viscount
de Bragelonne, who will have the honour of remitting this letter to
your majesty, is the friend of my son, to whom he owes his life;
he is a gentleman in whom your Majesty can confide entirely, in
the case when your majesty may have some verbal or written order
to forward to me.
" I have the honour to be, with respect, &c.,
"Marechal de Grammont."
At the moment, when mention occurred of his having rendered
a service to the count, Raoul could not help turning his eyes
towards the young princess, and then he saw in her eyes an ex-
pression of infinite gratitude to the young man; he no longer
doubted that the daughter of King Charles the First loved his friend.
"The battle of Lens gained !" said the queen ; "they are lucky
indeed for me—they can gain battles! Yes, the Marechal de
Grammont is right; this will change the aspect of affairs; but I
much fear it will do nothing for ours, even if it does not harm
them. This is recent news, sir," continued she, "and I thank
you for having made such haste to bring it to me; without this
letter, I should not have heard it till to-morrow—perhaps after
to-morrow—the last of all Paris."
" Madame," said Raoul, " the LOuvre is but the second palace
which this news has reached: it is as yet unknown to all, and I
had sworn to the Count de Guiche to remit this letter to your
Majesty ere even I should embrace my guardian."
THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE CHANCE POP PROVIDENCE. 211
"Your guardian! is he too a Bragelonne?" asked Lord de
Winter. " I knew formerly a Bragelonne—is he still alive ?"
"No, sir, he is dead; and I believe it is from him that my
guardian, whose near relation be was, inherited the estate from
which I take my name."
" And your guardian, sir," asked the queen, who could not help
feeling some interest in the handsome young man before her,
" what is his name ?"
"The Count de la Fere, madame," replied the young man,
bowing.
De Winter made a gesture of surprise, and the queen turned
to him with a start of joy.
" The Count de la Fere !" cried De Winter in his turn. " Oh,
sir, reply, I entreat you—is not the Count de la Fere a noble,
whom I remember handsome and brave, a Musketeer under
Louis XIII., and who must be now about forty-seven or forty-eight
years of age ?"
"Yes, sir, you are right in every respect."
" And who served under a borrowed name ?"
"—Under the name of Athos. Latterly I heard his friend
Monsieur d'Artagnan give him that name."
" That is it, madame, that is the same. God be praised ! And
he is in Paris ?" continued he, addressing Raoul; then, turning to
the queen—"We may still hope. Providence has declared for
us, since I have found this brave man again in so miraculous a
/manner. And, sir, where does he reside, pray?"
" The Count de la Fere lodges in the Rue Gu£negand, Hotel
du Grand Roi Charlemagne."
"Thanks, sir. Inform this dear friend that he may remain
within. I shall go and see him immediately."
" Sir, I obey with pleasure, if her Majesty will permit me to
depart."
"Go, Monsieur de Bragelonne," said the queen, "and be
assured of our affection."
Raoul bent respectfully before the two princesses, and, bowing
to De Winter, departed.
The queen and De Winter continued to converse for some time
in low voices, in order that the young princess should not overhear
them ; but the precaution was needless; she was in deep converse
with her own thoughts.
Then, when De Winter rose to take leave—
" Listen, my lord," said the queen; " I have preserved this
diamond cross which came from my mother, and this order of
14—2
212
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
St. Michael, which came from my husband. They are worth
about fifty thousand pounds. I had sworn to die of hunger rather
than to part with these pfecious pledges ; but now that this orna-
ment may be useful to him or to his defenders, everything must
be sacrificed to the hope of it. Take them, and if you need
money for your expedition, sell them fearlessly, my lord. But
should you find the means of retaining them, remember, my lord,
that I shall esteem you as having rendered the greatest service
which a gentleman can render to a queen; and in the day of my
prosperity, he who brings me this order and this cross will be
blessed by me and my children."
. " Madame," replied De Winter, " your majesty will be served
by a man devoted to you. I hasten to deposit these two objects
in a safe place, nor should I accept them if the resources of our
ancient fortune were left to us; but our estates are confiscated,
our ready money is exhausted, and we are reduced to turn into
resources everything we possess. In an hour hence I shall be
with the Count de la Fere, and to-morrow your majesty shall have
a definitive answer."
The quedn tendered her hand to Lord de Winter, who, kissing
it respectfully, went out, traversing alone, unconducted, those large
dark and deserted apartments, and brushing away tears which,
blase as he was by fifty years spent as a courtier, he could not
help shedding at the spectacle of this royal distress, so dignified
and yet so intense.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
the uncle and the nephew.
The horse and servant belonging to De Winter were waiting for
him at the door; he sauntered towards his abode very thought-
fully, looking behind him from time to time to contemplate the
dark and silent fagade of the Louvre. It was then that he saw a
horseman, as it were, detach himself from the wall and follow him
at a little distance. -In leaving the Palais P.oyale he remembered
to have observed a similar shadow.
" Tony," he said, motioning to his groom to approach.
"Here I am, my lord."
" Did you remark that man who is following us ?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Who is he?"
The uncle and the nephew
u I, do not know, only he has followed your grace from the
Palais Royale, stopped at the Louvre to wait for you, and now leaves
the Louvre with you."
" Some spy of the Cardinal," said De Winter to him aside. "Let
us pretend not to notice that he is watching us."
And spurring on, he pursued the labyrinth of streets which led
to his hotel, situated near the Marais, for having for so long a
time lived near the Place Royale, Lord de Winter naturally re-
turned to lodge near his ancient dwelling.
The unknown put his horse into a gallop.
De Winter dismounted at his hotel, went up into his apartment,
intending to watch the spy; but as he was about to place his
gloves and hat on a table, he saw reflected in a glass opposite to
him a figure which stood on the threshold of the room. He turned
round, and Mordaunt was before him.
There was a moment of frozen silence between these two, men.
" Sir," said De Winter, " I thought I had already made you
aware that I am weary of this persecution; withdraw, then, or I
shall call, and have you turned out, as you were in London. I
am not your uncle; I know you not."
" My uncle," replied Mordaunt, with his harsh" and bantering
tone, " you are mistaken; you will not have me turned out this
time, as you did in London; you dare not. As for denying that I
am your nephew, you will think twice about it, now that I have
learnt some things of which I was ignorant a few days ago."
" And how doth it concern me what you have learnt ?" said De
Winter.
" Oh, it concerneth you much, my uncle, I am sure; and you
will soon be of my opinion," added he, with a smile which sent a
shudder through the veins of him whom he addressed. "When I
presented myself before you for the first time in London, it was to
ask you what had become of my wealth; the second time it was
to demand who had sullied my name; and this time I come
before you to ask a question far more terrible than any other : to
ask you, my lord, what have you done with your sister—your
sister, who was my mother ?"
De Winter shrank back from the fire of those scorching eyes.
" Your mother ?" he said.
"Yes, my lord, my mother," replied the young man, advancing
into the room until he was face to face with Lord de Winter, and
crossing his arms. " I have asked the headsman of Bethune," he
said, his voice hoarse and his face livid with passion and grief;
"and the headsman of Bethune gave me a reply."
214
7 WE NT Y YEARS AFTER.
De Winter fell back into a chair as if struck by a thunderbolt,
and in vain attempted to answer.
"Yes," continued the young man, " all is now explained ; with
this key the abyss is opened. My mother had inherited an estate
from her husband, and you have assassinated my mother; my
name would have secured to me the paternal estate, and you have
despoiled me of my name, you have deprived me of my fortune.
I am no longer astonished that you knew me not. I am not sur-
prised that you refused to recognise me. When a man is a robber,
it is unbecoming to call him a nephew whom one has impoverished;
when one is a murderer, to term that man whom one has made an
orphan a relative."
These words produced a contrary effect to what Mordaunt had
anticipated. De Winter remembered the monster that milady had
been; he rose, dignified and calm, restraining by the severity of
his look the wild glances of the young man.
"You desire to fathom this horrible secret?" said De Winter;
" well, then, so be it. Know, then, what that woman was for
whom to-day you come to call me to account. That woman had,
in all probability, poisoned my brother, and in order to inherit
from me she was about to assassinate me in my turn. I have
proof of it. What say you to that ?"
"I say that she was my mother."
" She caused the unfortunate Duke of Buckingham to be stabbed
by a man who was, ere that, honest, good,' and pure. What say
you to that crime, of which I have the proof?"
" She was my mother !"
" On our return to France she had a young woman who was at-
tached to one of her foes poisoned in the convent of the Augustines
at Be'thune. Will this crime persuade you of the justice of her
punishment? of this I have the proofs."
" Silence, sir—she was my mother," exclaimed the young man,
his face running with sweat, his hair, like Hamlet's, standing upon
his forehead, and raging with fury; " she was my mother! her
crimes, I know them not—her disorders, I know them not—her
vices, I know them not. But this I know, -that I had a mother,
that five men leagued against one woman, murdered her clandes-
tinely by night—silently—like cowards. I know that you were
one of them, my uncle, and that you cried louder than the others
—'she must die.' Therefore I warn you—and listen well to my
words, that they may be engraved on your memory, never to be
forgotten—this murder, which has robbed me of everything—this
murder, which has deprived me of my name—this murder, which
THE tJNCLE ANL> THE NEPHEW*
215
has impoverished me—this murder, which has made me corrupt,
wicked, implacable—I shall summon you to account for it first, and
then those who were your accomplices—when I discover them !"
With hatred in his eyes, foaming at his mouth, and his fist ex-
tended, Mordaunt had advanced one more step—a threatening,
terrible step—towards De Winter. The latter put his hand to his
sword, and said, with the smile of a man who for thirty years has
jested with death:
" Would you assassinate me, sir ? Then I shall recognise you
as my nephew, for you are a worthy son of such a mother."
"No," replied Mordaunt, forcing all the veip.s in his face, and
the muscles of his body, to resume their usual places and to be
calm; " no, I shall not kill you—at least, not at this moment, for
without you I coufd not discover the others. But when I have
found them, then tremble, sir. I have stabbed the headsman of
Bethune—stabbed him without mercy or pity, and he was the least
guilty of you all."
With these words the young man went out, and descended the
stair sufficiently calm to pass unobserved; then, upon the lowest
landing-place, he passed Tony leaning over the balustrade, waiting
only for a call from his master to mount to his room.
But De Winter did not call; crushed, enfeebled, he remained
standing, and with listening ear; then only, when he had heard the
step of the horse going away, he fell back on a chair saying:
"My God, I thank Thee that he knows me alone."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
paternal affection.
While this terrible scene was passing at Lord de Winter's, Athos,
seated near his window, his elbow on the table, and his head sup-
ported on his hand, was listening intently to Raoul's account of the
adventures he met with on his journey, and the details of the
battle
Listening to the relation of those first emotions so fresh' "and
pure, the fine, noble face of Athos betrayed indescribable pleasure;
he inhaled the tones of that young voice as harmonious music.
He forgot all that was dark in the past, and that was cloudy in the
future. It almost seemed as if the return of this much-loved boy
had changed his fears into hopes. Athos was happy—happy as he
had never been before.
6i6
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"And you assisted and took part in this great battle, Bi'age*
lonne ?" said the ancient Musketeer.
" Yes, sir."
" And it was a hard one ?"
"His highness the prince charged eleven times in person."
"He is a great commander, Bragelonne."
" He is a hero, sir; I did not lose sight of him for an instant.
Oh ! how fine it is to be called Condd, and to be so worthy of such
a name !"
" He is calm and radiant, is he not ?"
" As calm as at parade; as radiant as at a fete. When we went
up to the enemy, it was slowly; we were forbidden to draw first,
anc^ we were marching towards the Spaniards, who were on a
height with lowered muskets. When we arrived about thirty paces
from them, the prince turned round to the* soldiers, ' Comrades,'
he said, 'you are about to suffer a furious discharge; but .'
There was such dead silence that friends and enemies could have
heard these words; then raising his sword, 'Sound trumpets !' he
cried."
"Well, very good; you will do as much when the opportunity
occurs—will you, Raoul ?"
" I know not, sir, but I thought it was very fine and grand !"
"Were you afraid, Raoul?" asked the count.
" Yes, sir," replied the young man naively; " I felt a great chill
at my heart, and at the word ' fire,' which resounded in Spanish
from the enemy's ranks, I closed my eyes and thought of you."
" In honest truth, Raoul ?", said Athos, pressing his hand.
" Yes, sir; at that instant there was such a firing that one might
have supposed that the infernal regions were opened, and those
who were not killed felt the heat x of the flames. I opened my
eyes, astonished at my being alive, or at least unhurt; a third of
'the squadron were lying on the ground, mutilated and bloody.
At this moment I encountered the eye of the prince, and I had
but one thought, and that was that he was observing me. I
spurred on, and found myself in the enemy's ranks."
" And the prince was pleased with you ?"
" He told me so, at least, sir, when he desired me to return to
Paris with Monsieur de Chatillon, who was charged to carry the.
news to the queen, and to bring the colours we had taken. ' Go,'
said he, ' the enemy will not rally for fifteen days, and until that
time I have no need of your service. Go and see those whom
you love, and who love you, and tell my sister De Longueville that
I thank her for the present she made me of you.' And I came,
JPA TERN A L AFFECTION-.
217
sir," added Raoul, gazing at the count with a smile of real affec-
tion, " for I thought you would be glad to see me again."
Athos drew the young man towards him, and pressed his lips do
his brow, as he would have done to a young daughter.
" And now, Raoul," said he, " you are launched; you have dukes
for friends, a marshal of France for a godfather, a prince of the
blood as commander, and on the day of your return you have
been received by two queens; it is rather well for a novice."
" Oh, sir!" said Raoul, suddenly, " you recall something to me,
which, in my haste to relate my exploits, I had forgotten; it is
that there was with her Majesty the queen of England, a gentle-
man who, when I pronounced your name, uttered a cry of surprise
and joy; he said he was a friend of yours—asked your address,
and is coming to see you."
" What is his name £'
" I did not dare ask, sir; he spoke elegantly, although I
thought from his accent he was an Englishman."
" Ah !" said Athos, leaning down his head as if to remember
who it could be. Then, when he raised it again, he was struck
by the presence of a man who was standing at the open door, and
was gazing at him with a compassionate aiq
" Lord de Winter !" exclaimed the couijt.
" Athos, my friend !"
And the two gentlemen were for an instant locked in each
other's arms ; then Athos, looking into his friend's face, and taking
him by both hands, said:
" What ails you, my lord ? you appear as unhappy as I am
happy."
" Yes, truly, dear friend; and I may even say that the sight of
you increases my dismay."
And De Winter glancing round him, Raoul quickly understood
that the two friends wished to be alone, and he therefore left the
room unaffectedly.
" Come, now that we are alone," said Athos, " let us talk of
yourself."
" Whilst we are alone let us speak of ourselves," replied De
Winter. " He is here."
"Who?"
" Milady's son."
Athos, who was again struck by this name, which seemed to
pursue him like an echo, hesitated for a moment, then slightly
knitting his brows, he calmly said:
" I know it; Grimaud met him between Bethune and Arras,
and then came here to warn me of his presence."
218
TWENTY YEARS'AFTER.
" Does Grimaud know him, then ?"
" No; but he was present at the deathbed of a man who knew
him." •'
" The headsman of Be'thune ?" exclaimed De Winter.
" You know about that ?" cried Athos, astonished.
" He has just left me," replied De Winter, " after telling me all.
Ah ! my friend ! what a horrible scene ! Why did we not destroy
the child with the mother ?"
" What need you fear ?" said Athos, recovering from the in-
stinctive fear he had at first experienced, by the aid of reason;'
" are we not here to defend ourselves ? Is this young man an
assassin by profession—a murderer in cold blood ? He has killed
the executioner of Bethune in an impulse of passion, but now his
fury is assuaged."
De Winter smiled sorrowfully, and shook -his head.
" Do you not then know the race ?" said he.
" Pooh!" said Athos, trying to smile in his turn. "It must have
lost its ferocity in the second generation. Besides, my friend,
Providence has warned us that we may be on our guard. All we
can do is to wait. Let us wait; and, as I said before, let us speak
of yourself. What brings you to Paris ?"
" Affairs of importance which you shall know later. But what
is this that I hear from Her Majesty the Queen of England?
Monsieur d'Artagnan is with Mazarin! Pardon my frankness,
dear friend. I neither hate nor blame the Cardinal, and your
opinions will be held ever sacred by me ; do you happen to belong
*o this man ?"
"Monsieur D'Artagnan," replied Athos, "is in the service; he
is a soldier, and obeys the constituted authority. Monsieur
D'Artagnan is not rich, and has need of his position as lieutenant
to enable him to live. v Millionaires like yourself, my lord, are rare
in France."
" Alas !" said De Winter, " I am at this moment as poor as he
is, if not poorer; but to return to our subject."
" Well, then, you wish to know if I am of Mazarin's party. No,
Pardon my frankness, also, my lord."
" I am obliged to you, count, for this pleasing intelligence!
You make me young and happy again by it. Ah ! so you are not
a Mazarinist ? Delightful! Indeed, you could not belong to
him. But pardon me, are you free ?"
" What mean you by free ?"
" I mean to ask if you be not married ?" .
" Ah ! as to that, no," replied Athos, laughing.
Paternal affection.
219
"Because that young man—so handsome, so elegant, so
polished "
" He is a child that I have adopted, and who does not even
know who was his father."
" Very well—you are always the same, Athos, great and gene-
rous. Are you still friends with Monsieur Porthos and Monsieur
Aramis ?"
" And add Monsieur D'Artagnan, too, my lord. We still remain
four friends devoted to each other; but when it becomes a question
of serving the Cardinal, or of fighting, of being Mazarinists or
Frondists, then we are only two."
" Is Monsieur Aramis with D'Artagnan ?" asked Lord de
Winter.
" No," said Athos : " Monsieur Aramis does me the honour to
share my opinions."
" Could you put me in communication with your witty and
agreeable friend ? Is he changed ?"
"He has become an abbe, that is all."
" You alarm me; his profession must have made him renounce
any great undertakings."
" On the contrary," said Athos, smiling, " he has never been so
much a musketeer as since he became an abbe, and you will find
him a veritable soldier."
" Could you engage to bring him to me to-morrow morning at
ten o'clock, on the Pont du Louvre ?"
" Oh, oh!" exclaimed Athos, smiling, " you have a duel in
prospect."
" Yes, count, and a splendid duel, too; a duel in which I hope
you will take your part."
" Where are we to go to, my lord ?"
"To Her Majesty the Queen of England, who has desired me
to present y5u to her."
"This is an enigma," said Athos; "but it matters not; from
the moment that you have guessed the word, I ask no further.
Will your lordship do me the honour to sup with me ?"
" Thanks, count, no," replied De Winter. " I own to you that
that young man's visit has taken away my appetite, and will pro-
bably deprive me of sleep. What undertaking can have brought
him to Paris ? It was not to meet me that he came, for he was
ignorant of my journey. This young man terrifies me, my lord;
for there lies in him a sanguinary predisposition."
" What occupies him in England ?"
"He is one of Cromwell's most enthusiastic disciples."
220
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
" But what has attached him to this cause ? His father and
mother were Catholics, I believe ?"
" His hatred of the king, who deprived him of his estates, and
forbad him to bear the name of De Winter."
"And how is he now called?"
"Mordaunt."
"A puritan, yet, disguised as a monk, he travels alone in
France."
" Do you say as a monk ?" .
" It was thus, and by mere accident—may God pardon me if I
blaspheme!—that he heard the confession of the executioner of
Bethune."
" Then I understand it all; he has been sent by Cromwell to
Mazarin, and the queen guessed rightly; we have been forestalled.
Everything is clear to me now. Adieu, count, till to-morrow."
"But the night is dark," said Athos, perceiving that Lord de
Winter seemed more uneasy than he wished to show; " and you
have no servant."
"I have Tony, a good but simple youth."
" Holloa there, Grimaud, Olivain, and Blaisois, call the viscount
here, and take the musket with you."
Blaisois was the tall youth, half groom, half peasant, whom we
saw at the Chateau de Bragelonne, whom Athos had christened
by the name of his province.
"Viscount," said Athos to Raoul as he entered, "you will
conduct my lord as far as his hotel, and permit no one to approach
him."
" Oh ! count," said De Winter, " for whom do you take me ?"
" For a stranger who does not know Paris," said Athos, " and
to whom the viscount will show the way."
De Winter shook him by the hand.
" Grimaud," said Athos, " put yourself at the head of the troop,
and beware of the monk."
Grimaud shuddered, and nodding, awaited the departure, re-
garding the butt of his musket with silent eloquence. Then,
obeying the orders given him by Athos, he headed the little pro-
cession, bearing the torch in one hand and the musket in the
other, until it reached the door of De Winter's inn, when, striking
on the door with his fist, he bowed to my lord without saying a
word.
The same order was pursued in returning; nor did Grimaud's
searching glance discover anything of a suspicious appearance,
save a dark shadow in ambuscade at the corner of the Rue
PATERNAL AFFECTION.
221
Guenegaud of the Quai. He fancied also that in going he had
already observed the street watcher who had attracted his atten-
tion. He pushed on towards him, but before he could reach it
the shadow had disappeared into an alley, in which Grimaud
deemed it scarcely prudent to pursue it.
The next day, on awaking, the count perceived Raoul by his
bedside. The young man was already dressed, and was reading a
new book by M. Chapelain.
" Already up, Raoul ?" exclaimed the count.
"Yes, sir," replied Raoul, with a slight hesitation. " I did not
sleep well."
" You, Raoul, not sleep well! then you must have something
on your mind !" said Athos.
" Sir, you will, perhaps, think that I am in a great hurry to leave
you, when I have only just arrived, but "
" Have you only two days of leave, Raoul ?"
" On the contrary, sir, I have ten; nor is it to the camp that I
wish to go."
" Where then ?" said Athos, smiling, " if it be not a secret.
You are now almost a man, since you have made your first passage
of arms, and have acquired the right to go where you will without
telling me."
"Never, sir," said Raoul, "as long as I possess the happiness of
having you for a protector, shall I deem I have the right of
freeing myself from a guardianship which is so valuable to me. I
have, therefore, the wish to go and pass a day only at Blois. You-
lopk at me, and are going to laugh at me."
" No; on the contrary, I am not inclined to laugh," said Athos,
suppressing a sigh. "You wish to see Blois again ; it is but very
natural."
" Then you permit me to go, and you are not angry in your
heart !" exclaimed Raoul joyously.
"Certainly; and why should I regret what will give you
pleasure ?"
" Oh ! how kind you are," exclaimed the young man, pressing
his guardian's hand; "and I can set out immediately?"
" When you like, Raoul."
" Sir," said Raoul, as he turned to leave the room, " I have
thought of one thing, and that is about the Duchess of Chevreuse,
so kind "to me, and to whom I owe my introduction to the
prince."
"And you ought to thank her, Raoul. Well, try the Hotel de
Luynes, Raoul, and ask if the duchess can receive you. I am
222
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
glad to see that you pay attention to the usages of the world,
You must take Grimaud and Olivain."
" Both, sir ?" asked Raoul, astonished.
"Both."
Raoul went out, and when Athos heard his young, joyous voice
calling to Grimaud and Olivain, he sighed.
" It is very soon to leave me," he thought, " but he follows the
common lot. Nature has made us thus : she looks on before her.
He certainly likes that child, but will he love me less because he
loves others ?"
And Athos confessed to himself that he was unprepared for so
prompt a departure; but Raoul was so happy that this considera-
tion effaced everything else from the mind of his guardian.
Everything was ready at ten o'clock for their journey, and as
Athos was seeing Raoul mount, a groom rode up from the Duchess
de Chevreuse. He was charged to tell the Count de la Fere that
she had learnt the return of her youthful protegd, and also the
manner he had conducted himself on the field, and she added
that she should be very glad to offer him her congratulations.
"Tell her grace," replied Athos, "that the viscount has just
mounted his horse to proceed to the Hotel de Luynes."
Then, with renewed instructions to Grimaud, Athos signified to
Raoul that he could set out, and ended by reflecting that it was,
perhaps, better that Raoul should be away from Pafis at that
moment.
CHAPTER XL.
again a queen demanding help.
Athos had biot failed to send early to Aramis, and had given his
letter to Blaisois, the only serving-man whom he had left. Blaisois
found Bazin donning his bedell's gown, his services being required
that day at Notre Dame.
Athos had desired Blaisois to try to speak to Aramis himself
Blaisois, a tall, simple youth, who understood nothing but what he
was desired, asked, therefore, for the Abbe d'Herblay, and in spite
of Bazin's assurances that his master was not at home, he persisted
in such a manner as to put Bazin into a passion. Blaisois seeing
Bazin in clerical guise, was little discomposed at his denials, and
wanted to pass at all risks, believing, too, that he with whom he
had to do was endowed with the virtues of his cloth—namely,
patience and Christian charity.
AGAIN A QUEEN DEMANDING HELP. 223
But Bazin, still the servant of a Musketeer, when once the blood
mounted to his fat cheeks, seized a broomstick and began thump-
ing Blaisois, saying:
"You insulted the Church; my friend, you have insulted the
Church!"
At this moment Aramis, aroused by this unusual disturbance,
cautiously opened the door of his room; and Blaisois, looking re-
proachfully at the Cerberus, drew the letter from his pocket, and
presented it to Aramis.
"From the Count de la Fere," said Aramis. "All right." And
he retired into his room without even asking the cause of so much
noise.
Blaisois returned disconsolate to the hotel of the Grand Roi
Charlemagne, > and when Athos inquired if his commission was
executed, he related his adventure.
" You foolish fellow !" said Athos, laughing. " And you did not
tell him that you came from me ?"
"No, sir."
At ten o'clock, Athos, with his habitual exactitude, was waiting
on the Pont du Louvre, and was almost immediately joined by
]Lord de Winter.
They waited ten minutes, and then his lordship began to fear
that Aramis was not coming to join them.
" Patience," said Athos, whose eyes were fixed in the direction
of the Rue du Bac, "patience; I see an-abbe giving a cuff to a
man, and a bow to a woman—that must be Aramis."
It was he, in truth; having run against a young shopkeeper who
was gaping at the crows, and who had splashed him, Aramis with
one blow of his fist had distanced him ten paces.
At this moment one of his penitents passed, and as she was
young and pretty, Aramis took off his cap to ■ her, with his most
gracious smile.
A most affectionate greeting, as one can well believe, took place
between him and Lord de Winter.
"Where are wre going?" inquired Aramis; "are we going to
fight there, 'faith ? I carry no sword this morning, and cannot
return home to procure one."
"No," said Lord de Winter, "we are going to pay a visit to Her
Majesty the Queen of England."
" Oh, very well," replied Aramis; then, bending his face down
to Athos' ear, " what is the object of this visit ?" continued he.
" I'faith, I know not; some evidence required from us, perhaps."
" May it not be about that cursed affair ?" asked Aramis', " in
224
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
which case x do not greatly care to go, for it will be to pocket some
reproofs; and since I am used to give it to so many, I do not like
to receive it myself."
" If it were so," answered Athos, " we should not be taken there
by Lord de Winter, for he would come in for his share; he was
one of us."
"Truly—yes, let us go."
. On arriving at the Louvre, Lord de Winter entered first; indeed,
there was but one porter to receive them at the gate.
It was impossible, in daylight, for the impoverished state of the
habitation, which avaricious charity had conceded to an unfortu-
nate queen, 1,0 pass unnoticed by Athos, Aramis, and even the
Englishman. Large rooms, completely denuded of furniture, bare
walls, upon which, here and there, shone the old gold mouldings
which had resisted time and neglect, windows with broken panes
(which it was impossible to close fast), no carpets, nor guards, nor
servants; this is what at first met the eyes of Athos, to which he,
touching his companion's elbow, directed his attention by his
glances.
"Mazarin is better lodged," said Aramis.
" Mazarin is almost king," answered Athos; " and Madame
Henrietta is almost no longer queen."
"If you would condescend to be clever, Athos," observed
Aramis, " I really do think you would be more so than poor Mon-
sieur de Voiture."
Athos smiled.
■ The queen appeared to be impatiently expecting them, for at
the first-slight noise which she heard in the hall leading to her
room, she came herself to the door to receive the courtiers of the
days of misfortune.
" Enter and be welcome, gentlemen," she said.
The gentlemen entered and remained standing, but at a motion
from the queen- they seated themselves. Athos was calm and
grave, bqt Aramis was furious ; the sight of such royal misery exas-
perated him, and his eyes examined every new trace of poverty
which presented itself.
" You are examining the luxury I enjoy ?" said the queen,
glancing sadly around her.
" Madame," replied Aramis, " I must ask your pardon, but I
know not how to hide my indignation at seeing how a daughter of
Henry IV. is treated at the court of France."
" Monsieur Aramis is not an officer ?" asked the queen of Lord
de Winter.
AGAIN A QUEEN DEMANDING HELP.
" That gentleman is the Abb£ D'Herblay," replied he.
Aramis blushed. "Madame," he said, "I am an abbd, it is
true, but I am so against my will; I neyer had a vocation for the
bands; my cassock is fastened by one button only, and I am
always ready to become a Musketeer again. This morning, being
ignorant that I should have the honour of seeing your Majesty, I
encumbered myself with this dress, but you will find me no less a
man devoted to your Majesty's service, in whatever you see fit to'
command me."
" The Abb£ D'Herblay," resumed De Winter, " is one of those
gallant Musketeers belonging to his Majesty King Louis XIII., of
whom I have spoken to you, madame." Then, turning towards
Athos, he continued: " And this gentleman is that noble Count
de la Fere, whose high reputation is so well known to your
Majesty."
" Gentlemen," said the queen, " a few years ago I had around
me gentlemen, treasures, and armies ; and by the lifting of a finger
all these were occupied in my service. To-day, look around you,
and it may astonish you, that in order to accomplish a plan which
is dearer to me than life, I have only Lord de Winter, the friend
of twenty years, and you, gentlemen, whom I see for the first time,
and whom I know but as my countrymen."
" It is enough," said Athos, bowing low, " if the life of three
men can purchase yours, madame."
" I thank you, gentlemen. But hear me," continued she. " I
am not only the most miserable of queens, but the most unhappy
of mothers, the most despairing of wives. My children—two of
them at least—the Duke of York and the Princess Elizabeth, are
far away from me, exposed to the blows of the ambitious and our
foes; my husband, the king, is leading in England so wretched an
existence, that it is no exaggeration to say that he seeks death, as
a thing to be desired. Hold ! gentlemen, there is the letter con-
veyed to me by Lord de Winter. Read it."
Obeying the queen, Athos read aloud the letter, which we have
already seen, in which King Charles demanded whether the hos-
pitality of France would be accorded to him.
"Well ?" asked Athos, when he had closed the letter.
" Well," said the queen, " it has been refused."
The two friends exchanged a smile of contempt.
"And now," said Athos, "what is to be done? I have the
honour to inquire from your Majesty, what you desire Monsieur
D'Herblay and myself to do in your service. We are ready."
(' Ah ! sir, you have a noble heart," exclaimed the queen, with
226
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
a burst of gratitude; whilst Lord de Winter turned to her with a
glance which said, " Did I not answer for them to you ?"
" But you, sir ?" said the queen to Aramis.
" I, madame," replied he, " follow Monsieur de la Fere where-
ever he leads, even were it to death, without demanding where-
fore; but when it concerns your Majesty's service, then," added
he, looking at the queen with all the grace of his former days, " I
precede the count."
" Well, then, gentlemen," said the queen, " since it is thus,
and since you are willing to devote yourselves to the service of a
poor princess whom the whole world has abandoned, this is what
is required to be done for me. The king is alone with a few
gentlemen, whom he fears to lose every day; surrounded by the
Scotch, whom he distrusts, although he be himself a Scotchman.
Since Lord de Winter left him I am distracted, sirs. I ask much,
too much perhaps, for I have no title to ask it. Go to England,
join the king, be his friends, his protectors, march to battle at his
side, and be near him in the interior of his house, where con-
spiracies, more dangerous than the perils of war, increase every
day. And in exchange of the sacrifice that you make, gentle.men,
I promise—not to reward you, I believe that word would offend
you—but to love you as a sister, to prefer you next to my husband
and my children, to every one. I swear it before Heaven."
And the queen raised her eyes solemnly upwards.
" Madame," said Athos, " when must we set out ?"
"You consent, then?" exclaimed the queen, joyfully.
"Yes, madame; only it seems to me that your Majesty goes
too far in engaging to load us with a friendship so far above our
merit. We do service to God, madame, in serving a prince so
unfortunate, anjd a queen so virtuous. Madame, we are yours,
body and soul.
" Oh, sirs," said the queen, moved to tears, " this is the first
time for five years that I have felt anything like joy and hope.
God—who can read my heart, all the gratitude I feel—will reward
you ! Save my husband ! Save the king, and although you care
not for the price which is placed upon a good action in this world,
leave me the hope that we shall meet again, when I may be able
to thank you myself. In the meantime I remain here. Have you^
any counsel to give me? From this moment I become your
friend, and since you are engaged in my affairs, I ought to occupy
myself in yours."
" Madame," replied Athos, " I have only to ask your majesty's
prayers."
AGAIN A QUEEN DEMANDING HELP. 227
" And I," said Aranps, " I am alone in the world, and have only
your majesty to serve."
The queen held out her hand, which they kissed, and having
two letters prepared for the king—one from herself, and one writ-
ten by the Princess Henrietta—she gave one to Athos and the
other to Aramis, lest, should they be separated by chance, they
might make themselves known to the king; after which they with-
drew.
At the foot of the staircase De Winter stopped.
"Not to arouse suspicions, gentlemen," said he, "go your way,
and I will go mine, and this evening at nine o'clock we will as-
semble again at the gate St. Denis. We will travel on horseback
as far as our horses can go, and afterwards we can take the post.
Once more, let me thank you, my good friends, thank you in my
own name, and in the queen's."
The three gentlemen then shook hands, Lord de Winter taking
the Rue St. Honore, and Athos and Aramis remaining together.
" Well," said Aramis, when they were alone, " what do you
think of this business, my dear count ?"
" Bad," replied Athos, "very bad."
" But you received it with enthusiasm."
" As I shall ever receive the defence of a great principle, my
dear D'Herblay. Monarchs are only strong by the aid of the
aristocracy, but aristocracy cannot exist without monarchs. • Let
us, then, support monarchy in order to support ourselves."
" We shall be murdered there," said Aramis. " I hate the
English—they are coarse, like all people who drink beer."
" Would it be better to remain here ?" said Athos, " and take
a turn in the Bastille, or in the dungeon of Vincennes, for having
favoured the escape of Monsieur de Beaufort ? Oh! i'faith,
Aramis, believe me there is little left to regret. We avoid im-
prisonment, and we take the part of heroes—the choice is
easy."
" It is true; but in everything, friend, one must always return
to the same question—a stupid one I admit—but very necessary;
have you any money ?"
" Something like a hundred pistoles, that my farmer sent to me
the day before I left Bragelonne; but out of that sum, I ought to
leave fifty for Raoul—a young man must live respectably. I have
then about fifty pistoles. And you ?"
" As for me, I am quite sure that after turning out all my
pockets and emptying my drawers, I shall not find ten louis at
home. Fortunately, Lord de Winter is rich."
15-2
228
TWENTY YEARS AFTER..
" Lord de Winter is ruined for the moment, for Cromwell claims
all his resources."
" Now is the time when Baron Porthos would be useful!"
"Now it"is that I regret 'D'Artagnan."
" Let us entice them away."
" This secret, Aramis, does not belong to us; take my advice,
then, and put no one into our confidence. And, moreover, in
taking such a step, we should appear to be doubtful of ourselves.
Let us regret to ourselves for our own sakes, but not speak of it."
" You are right; but what are you going to do till this evening;
I have two things to postpone."
" And what are they ?"
" First, a thrust with the Coadjutor, whom I met last night at
Madame de Rambouillet's, and whom I found particular in his
remarks respecting me."
" Oh, fye—a quarrel between priests, a duel between allies !"
" What can I do, friend; he is a bully, and so am I; his cassock
is a burden to him, and I think I have had enough of mine; in
fact, there is so much resemblance between us, that I sometimes
believe he is Aramis, and I am the Coadjutor. This kind of life
fatigues and oppresses me; besides, he is a turbulent fellow who
will ruin our party. I am convinced that if I gave him a box on
the ear, such as I gave this morning to the little citizen who
splashed me, it would change the appearance of things."
" And I, my dear Aramis," quietly replied Athos, " I think it
would only change Monsieur de Retz's appearance. Take my
advice, leave things as they are; besides, you are neither of you
now your own masters; he belongs to the Frpnde, and you to the
Queen of England. But now we must' part. I have one or two
visits to make, and a letter to write. Call for me at eight o'clock,
or shall I wait supper for you at seven ?"
" That will do very well," said Aramis. " I have twenty visits
to make, and as many letters to write."
They then separated. Athos went to pay a visit to Madame de
Vendome, left his name at Madame de Chevreuse's, and wrote the
following letter to D'Artagnan :
" Dear Friend,—I am about to set off with Aramis on important
business. I wished to make my adieux to you, but time did not
allow me. Remember that I write to you now to repeat "how
much affection I have for you.
"Raoul is gone to Blois, and is ignorant of my departure; watch
over him in my absence as much as you possibly can, and if by
AG AW A QUEEN DEMANDING HELP. 'zig
Chance yOu receive no news of me three months hence, tell him
to open a packet which he will find addressed to him in my bronze
casket at Blois, and of which I send you the key.
" Embrace Porthos from Aramis and myself. Adieu, perhaps
farewell."
At the hour agreed upon Aramis arrived; he was dressed as an
officer, and had the old sword at his side which he had drawn so
often, and which he was more than ever ready to draw.
" By-the-bye," he said, " I think that we are decidedly wrong
to depart thus, without leaving a line for Porthos and D'Ar-
tagnan."
' "The thing is done, dear friend," said Athos; "I foresaw that,
and have embraced them both from you and myself."
"You are a wonderful man, my dear count," said Aramis; "you
think of everything."
" Well, have you made up your mind to this journey ?"
" Quite; and now that I reflect about it, I am glad to leave
Paris at this moment."
" And so am I," replied Athos ; " my only regret is not having
seen D'Artagnan; but that rascal is so cunning, he might have
guessed our project."
When supper was over Blaisois entered. " Sir," said he, " here
is Monsieur d'Artagnan's answer."
" But I did not tell you there was an answer, stupid !" said
Athos.
" And I set off without waiting for one, but he called me back
and gave me this;" and he presented a little bag made of leather,
round and ringing.
Athos opened it, and began by drawing from it a little note,
written in these terms :
"My dear Count,—When one travels—and especially for
three months—one has never enough money. Now, recalling
our former time of distress, I send you the half of my purse ; it is
money to obtain which I mgde Mazarin sweat. Don't make a bad
use of it I entreat you.
" As to what you say about not seeing you again, I believe not
a word of it; with your heart and your sword one might pass
through everything. Au revoir, then, and not farewell.
" It is unnecessary to say that from the day I saw Raoul I
loved him; nevertheless, believe that I heartily pray to God that
230
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
I may not become his father, however much I might be proud of
such a son.
"Jonis d'Artagnan.
"P.S.—-Be it well understood that the fifty louis which I send
are equally for Aramis as for you, and for you as for Aramis."
• Athos smiled, and his fine eye was dimmed by a tear. D'Ar-
tagnan, who had loved him so tenderly, loved him still, Mazarinist
though he was.
"There are the fifty louis, i'faith," said Aramis, emptying the
purse on the table, " all bearing the effigy of Louis XIII. Well,
what shall you do with this money, count; shall you keep it,
or send it back ?"
"I shall keep it, Aramis; and even had I no need of it, I
should still keep it. What is offered from a generous heart
should be accepted generously. Take twenty-five of them, Aramis,
and give me the remaining twenty-five."
"All right; I am glad to see that you are of my opinion.
Then now shall we start ?"
" When you like ; but have you no groom ?"
" No! that idiot Bazin had the folly to make himself verger,
as you know, and therefore cannot leave Notre Dame."
"Very well, take Blaisois, with whom I know not what to do
since I have had Grimaud."
"Willingly," said Aramis.
At this moment Grimaud appeared at the door. "Ready,"
said he, with his usual curtness.
" Let us go then," said Athos.
The two friends mounted, as did their servants. At the corner
of the Quai they encountered Bazin, who was running breath-
lessly.
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed he, "thank heaven I have arrived in time.
Monsieur Porthos has just been to your, house, and has left this
for you, saying that the thing was important, and ought to be
given to you before you left."
" Good," said Aramis, taking a purse which Bazin presented to
him. " What is this ?"
"Wait, your reverence, there is a letter."
" You know that I have already told you that if you ever call
me anything but chevalier I will break your bones. Give me the
letter."
" How can you read ?" asked Athos; " it is as dark as in an
oven."
Again a quPen demanding help. 231
u Wait," said Bazin, striking a light, and lighting a twisted wax-
light, with which he lighted the church candles. By this light
Aramis read the following epistle :
" My dear D'Herblay,—I learn from D'Artagnan, who has
embraced me on the part of the Count de la Fere and yourself,
that you are setting out on a journey which may perhaps last two
or three months. As I know that you do not like to ask money
of your friend, I offer to you. Here are two hundred pistoles, of
which you can dispose, and return to me when an opportunity
occurs. Do not fear that you put me to inconvenience; if I want
money, I can send for some from one of my chateaux; at Bracieux
alone I have twenty thousand francs in gold. So, if I do not send
you more, it is because I fear you would not accept a large sum.
" I address you, because you know, that although I esteem him
from my Heart, I am a little awed by Count de la Fere; but it is
understood, that what I offer to you I offer to him at the same
time.
" I am, as I trust you do not doubt, your devoted
"De Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds."
" Well," said Aramis, " what do you say to that ?"
" I say, my dear D'Herblay, that it is almost sacrilege to distrust
Providence when one has such friends, and therefore we will
divide the pistoles from Porthos, as we divided the louis sent by
D'Artagnan."
The division being made by the light of Bazin's taper, the two
friends continued their road, and a quarter of an hour later they
had joined De Winter at the Porte St. Denis.
CHAPTER XLI.
in which it is proved that first impulses are always
best.
The three gentlemen took the road to Picardy—a road so well
known to them, and which recalled to Athos and Aramis some of
the most picturesque adventures of their youth.
" If Mousqueton were with us," observed Athos, on reaching
the spot where they had had a dispute with the paviers, " how he
would tremble at passing this! Do you remember, Aramis, that
it was here he received that famous ball ?" 1
2p
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" By my faith, I would allow him to tremble," replied Arariiis;
" for even I feel a shudder at the recollection; hold, just above
that tree is'the little spot where I thought I was killed."
It was soon time for Grimaud to recall the past. Arriving
before the inn at which his master and himself had made such an
enormous repast, he approached Athos, and said, showing him the
air-hole of the cellar :
" Sausages !"
Athos began to laugh, and this youthful folly of his ap-
peared to be as amusing as if some one had related it of another
person.
At last, after travelling two days and one night, they arrived at
Boulogne towards the evening, favoured by magnificent weather.
Boulogne was a strong position, and then almost a deserted town,
built entirely on the heights, and what is now called the lower
town did not then exist.
" Gentlemen," said De Winter, on reaching the gate of the
town, " let us do here as at Paris—let us separate to avoid suspi-
cion. I know an inn, little frequented, but of which the host is
entirely devoted to me. I will go there, where I expect to find
letters, and you go to the first tavern in the town, to L'Ep£e du
Grand Henri for instance, refresh yourselves, and in two hours be
upon the jetty—our boat is waiting there for us."
The matter being thus decided, the two friends found, about two
hundred paces further, the tavern indicated to them. . The horses
were fed, but not unsaddled; the grooms up—for it was already
late—and their two masters, impatient to return* appointed a
place of meeting with them on the jetty, and desired them on
no account to exchange a word with any one. ' It is needless to
say that this caution concerned Blaisois alone—it was long since
it had become a useless one to Grimaud.
Athos and Aramis walked down towards the port. From their
dress, covered with dust, and from a certain easy manner by which
a man accustomed to travel is always recognised, the two friends
excited the attention of a few walkers. There was more especially
one upon whom their arrival had produced a decided impression.
This man, who they had observed from the first for the same
reason as they had themselves been remarked by others, walked
in a melancholy way up and down the jetty. From the moment
he perceived them he did not cease to look at them, and seemed
to burn with the wish to speak to them.
On reaching the jetty, Athos and Aramis stopped to look at a
.little boat fastened to a stake, and ready rigged as if waiting to start.
FIX ST IMPULSES APE ALWAYS BEST.
233
"That is, doubtless, our boat," said Athos.
" Yes," replied Aramis, " and the sloop sailing about there must
be that which is to take us to our destination; now," continued
he, " if only De Winter does not keep us waiting. It is not at
all amusing here—there is not a single woman passing."
" Hush !" said Athos, " we are overheard."
In truth, the walker who, during the observations of the two
friends, had passed and repassed behind them several times,
stopped at the name of De Winter; but as his face betrayed no
emotion at the mention of this name, it might have been by chance
that he had stopped.
" Gentlemen," said the man, who was young and pale, bowing
with much ease and politeness, " pardon my curiosity, but I see
you come from Paris, or at least that you are strangers at Bou-
logne."
" We come from Paris, yes," replied Athos, with the same cour-
tesy; " what is there at your service ?"
" Sir," said the young man, " will you be so good as to tell me if
it be true that Cardinal Mazarin is no longer minister ?"
" That is a strange question," said Aramis.
"He is and he is not," replied Athos; "that is to say, he is dis-
missed by one-half of France; and that, by means of intrigues and
promises, he makes the other half retain him; you Ayill perceive
that this may last a long time."
" However, sir," said the stranger, " he has neither fled, nor is in
prison ?"
"No, sir, not at this moment at least."
"Sirs, accept my thanks for your politeness," said the young
man, retreating.
" What do you think of that interrogator ?" asked Aramis.
" I think he is either a provincial person who is dull, or a spy
wishing for information."
" And you replied to him with that notion ?"
"Nothing warranted me to answer him otherwise : he was polite
to me, and I was so to him."
" But if he be a spy "
"What do you think a spy would be about here? We are not
living in the time of Cardinal Richelieu, who would have closed
the ports on a bare suspicion."
" It matters not; you were wrong to reply to him as you did,"
continued Aramis, following with his eyes the young man disap-
pearing behind the cliffs.
" And you," said Athos,. " you forget that you committed a very
234
TWENTY YEARS ARTER.
different kind of imprudence in pronouncing Lord de Winter's
name. Did you not see that at that name the young man stopped^?'1
. " More reason, then, when he spoke tor you for sending him about
his business."
" A quarrel ?" asked Athos.
" And since when have you become afraid of a quarrel ?"
" I am always afraid of a quarrel when I am expected at any
place, and that such a quarrel might possibly prevent my reaching
it. Besides, let me own something to you. I am anxious to see
that young man nearer."
" And wherefore ?"
" Aramis, you will certainly laugh at me—you will say that I am
always repeating the same thing—you will call me the most timo-
rous of visionaries; but to whom do you see a resemblance in that
young man ?"
" In beauty, or on the contrary ?" asked Aramis, laughing.
" In ugliness, and as far as a man can resemble a woman ?"
"Ah, egad !" cried Aramis, " you have made me think. No, In
truth, you are no visionary, my dear friend, and now that I think
of it—you—yes, i'faith, quite right—that delicate and compressed
mouth, those eyes which seem always at the command of the in-
tellect, and never of the heart! Yes, it is one of Milady's bastards !"
"You laugh, Aramis."
" From habit, that is all; for I swear to you, I should like no
better than yourself to meet that viper in my path."
" Ah ! here is De Winter coming," said Athos.
" Good, one thing now is only wanting, and that is that our
grooms should keep us waiting."
"No," said Athos, "I see them about twenty paces behind my
lord. I recognise Grimaud by his long legs and stiff gait. Tony
carries our muskets."
"Then we shall embark to-night?" asked Aramis, glancing-
towards the west, where the sun had left but one golden cloud,
which, dipping into the ocean, appeared by degrees to be ex-
tinguished.
"Probably so," said Athos.
" Diable !" resumed Aramis; " I have little fancy for the sea by
day, but still less at night; the sounds of the winds and waves, the
frightful motion of the vessel—I confess that I prefer to be in the
convent of Noisy."
Athos smiled sadly, for it was evident that he was thinking of
other things as he listened to his friend, and he moved towards
De Winter.
PIRST IMPULSES ARE ALIVA VS EE ST. 23$
"What ails our friend?" said Aramis; "he resembles one of
Dante's damned people, whose neck Satan has dislocated, and
who always look at their heels. What the devil makes him look
thus behind him ?"
When De Winter perceived tiiem, in his turn he advanced to-
wards them with surprising rapidity.
"What is the matter, my lord?" said Athos; "and what puts
you out of breath thus ?"
" Nothing," replied De Winter, " nothing; and "yet in passing
the heights it seemed to me " and he again turned round.
Athos glanced at Aramis.
" But let us go," continued De Winter; " let us be off; the boat
must be waiting for us, and there is our sloop at'anchor—do you
see it there ? I wish I were on board already,"—and he looked
back again.
" He has seen him," said Athos, in a low tone to Aramis.
They had now reached the ladder which led to the boat.
De Winter made the grooms who carried the arms, and the
porters with the luggage, descend the first, and was about to
follow them.
At this moment, Athos perceived a man walking on the sea
shore parallel to the jetty, and hastening his steps as if to reach
the other side of the port, scarcely twenty steps from the place
of embarking. He fancied in the darkness that he recognised
the young man who had questioned him. ■ Athos now descended
the ladder in his turn, without losing sight of the young man. The
latter, to make a short cut, had appeared on a sluice.
" He certainly bodes us no good," said Athos; " but let us
embark—once out at sea, let him come."
And Athos sprang into the boat, which was immediately pushed
off, and which soon distanced the shore under the efforts of four
strong rowers.
But the young man had begun to follow or rather to advance
before the boat. She was obliged to advance between the point of
the jetty, surmounted by a beacon, just lighted, and a rock which
jutted out. They saw him in the distance climbing the rock, in
order to look down upon the boat as she passed.
, "Ay, but," said Aramis, "that young man is decidedly a spy."
" Which is the young man ?" asked De Winter, turning round.
" He who followed us, and spoke to us, and awaits us there—
see!"
De Winter tilrned, and followed the direction of Aramis's finger.
The beacon bathed its light upon the little strait through which
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
ihey were about to pass, and the rock where the young man stood
with bare head and crossed arms.
" It is he !" exclaimed De Winter, seizing the arm of Athos ; " it
is he! I thought I recognised him, and I was not mistaken."
" Who—him ?" asked Aramis.
" Milady's son," replied Athos.
" The monk !" exclaimed Grimaud.
The young man heard the words, and bent so forward over the
rock that one might have supposed he was about to precipitate
himself from it.
"Yes, it is I, my uncle. I, the son of Milady—I, the monk—I,
the secretary and friend of Cromwell—and I know you, both you
and your companions."
There were in that boat three men, unquestionably brave, and
whose courage no man would have dared to dispute; nevertheless,
at that voice, that accent, and those gestures, they felt a shudder
of terror run through their veins. As for Grimaud, his hair stood
on end, and drops of sweat ran from his brow.
" Ah !" exclaimed Aramis, " that is the nephew, the monk, and
the son of Milady, as he says himself."
" Alas ! yes," murmured De Winter.
"Then, wait," said Aramis; and with the terrible coolness
which on important occasions he showed, he took one of the mus-
kets from Tony, shouldered and aimed it at the young man, who
stood, like the accusing angel, upon the rock.
" Fire !" cried Grimaud, unconsciously.
Athos threw himself on the mouth of the gun, and arrested- the
shot which was about to he fired.
"The devil take you," said Aramis, "I had him so well at the
point of my gun, I should have sent a ball into his breast."
" It is enough to have killed the mother," said Athos, hoarsely.
" The mother was a wretch, who struck at us all, and at those
dear to us."
" Yes, but the son has done us no harm."
Grimaud, who had risen to watch the effect of the shot, fell back
hopeless, wringing his hands.
The young man burst into a laugh.
" Ah, it is certainly you," he cried, "and I know you now."
His mocking laugh and threatening words passed over their
heads, carried on by the breeze, until lost in the depths of the
horizon. Aramis shuddered.
" Be calm !" exclaimed Athos, " for Heaven's sake;—have we
ceased to be men ?"
FIRST IMPULSES ARE ALWAYS BEST.
237
"No," saidAramis "but that being is a fiend ; and ask the uncle
whether I was wrong to rid him of-his nephew."
De Winter only replied by a groan.
" It was all up with him," continued Aramis; "ah, I much
fear that, with your wisdom, you have made me commit a great
folly."
Athos took Lord de Winter's hand, and tried to turn the conver-
sation.
" When shall we land in England ?" he asked ; but De Winter
seemed not to hear his words, and made no reply.
" Hold, Athos," said Aramis, " perhaps there is still time. See
if he is still in the same place."
Athos turned round with an effort; the sight of the young man
was evidently painful to him, and there he still was, in fact, on
the rock, the beacon shedding round him, as it were, a glory
of light.
" Decidedly, Aramis," said Athos; " I think I was wrong not
to let you fire."
" Hold your tongue," replied Aramis; "you will make me weep
if it were possible."
At this moment they were hailed by a voice from the sloop, and
a few seconds later, men, servants, and baggage were on deck.
The captain had been only waiting his passengers, and hardly had
they put foot on board ere her head was turned towards Hastings,
where they were to disembark. At this instant the three friends
turned, in spite of themselves, a last look on the rock, upon the
menacing figure which pursued them and stood out boldly. Then
a voice reached them once more, sending out this threat: "To
our next meeting, sirs, in England,"
CHAPTER XLII.
the te deum for the victory of lens.
The bustle which had been observed by Henrietta Maria, and
for which she had vainly sought to discover a reason, was occa-
sioned by the battle of Lens, announced by the prince's messenger,
the Due de Chatillon, who had taken siich a noble part in the
engagement; he was, besides, charged to hang twenty-five_flags
taken from the Lorraine party, as well as from the Spaniards,
upon the arches of Notre Dame.
238
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
This news was decisive; it destroyed, in favour of the court, the
struggle commenced with the parliament. The motive given for
all the taxes summarily imposed, and to which the parliament had
made opposition, was the necessity of sustaining the honour of
France, and upon the uncertain hope of beating the enemy: Now,
since the affair of Nordlingen, they had but experienced re-
verses; the parliament had a plea for calling Mazarin to account
for all the victories—always promised and always deferred; but
this time there had really been fighting, there had been a triumph
and a complete one. And this all knew so well, that it was a
double victory for the court—a victory interior and exterior, so
that even when the young king learned the news, he exclaimed,
"Ah, gentlemen of the parliament, we shall see what you will say
now." Upon which the queen had pressed to her heart the royal
child, whose haughty and unruly sentiments were in such har-
mony with her own. A council was called the same evening, but
nothing transpired of what was decided. It was only known that
on the following Sunday a " Te Deum " would be sung at Notre
Dame in honour of the victory of Lens.
The following Sunday, then, the Parisians arose with joy; at
that period a " Te Deum " was a grand affair ; this kind of cere-'
mony had not then been made an abuse of, and it produced a
great effect. The shops were deserted, the houses closed; every-
one wished to see the young king with his mother, and the famous
Cardinal Mazarin, whom they hated so much, that no one wished
to be deprived of his presence. Moreover, great liberty prevailed
among this immense crowd; every opinion -was openly expressed,
and rung out, so to speak, insurrection, as the thousand bells of
all the Paris churches rang out the "Te Deum." The police be-
longing to the city being formed by the city itself, nothing threaten-
ing presented itself to disturb the concert of universal hatred, or
to freeze words between slandering lips.
Nevertheless, at eight o'clock in the morning, the regiment of
the queen's guards, commanded by Guitant, under whom was his
nephew Comminges, marched, preceded by drums and trumpets,
to file off from the Palais Royale as far Notre Dame, a manoeuvre
which the Parisians witnessed tranquilly,- delighted as they were
with military music and brilliant uniforms.
Friquet had put on his Sunday clothes, under the pretext of
having a cold, which he had managed to procure momentarily,
by introducing an infinite numbeu of cherry nuts into one side of
his mouth, and had procured a whole holiday from Bazin. On
leaving Bazin, Friquet started off to the Palais Royal, where he
THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY OF LENS. 239
arrived at the moment of the turning out of the regiment of
guards, and as he had only gone there forlthe enjoyment of seeing
it and hearing 'the music, he took his place at their head, beating
the drum on two pieces of slate, and passing from that exercise
to that of the trumpet, which he counterfeited naturally with his
mouth in a manner which had more than once called forth the
praises of amateurs of imitative harmony.
This amusement lasted from the Barriere des Sergens to the
place of Notre Dame; and Friquet found in it true enjoyment;
but when at last the regiment separated, penetrated to the heart
of the city, and placed itself at the extremity of the Rue St.
Christophe, near "the Rue Cocatrix, in which Broussel lived, then
Friquet remembered that he had not had breakfast; and after
thinking to which side he had best turn his steps in order to ac-
complish this important act of the day, he reflected deeply, and
decided that it should be Counsellor Broussel who should bear the
cost of his repast.
• In consequence he took a start, arrived breathlessly at the
counsellor's door, and knocked violently.
His mother, the counsellor's old servant, opened it.
" What dost thou here, good-for-nothing ?" she said, " and why
art thou not at Notre Dame?"
" I have been there, mother," said Friquet, " but I saw things
happen of which Master Broussel ought to be warned, and so
with Monsieur Bazin's permission—you know, mother, Monsieur
Bazin, the verger?—I came to speak to Monsieur Broussel."
"/And what hast thou to say, boy, to Monsieur Broussel."
" I wish to tell him," replied Friquet, screaming with all his
might, " that there is a whole regiment of guards coming this way.
And, as I hear everywhere that at the court they are ill-disposed to
him, I wish to warn him, that he may be on his guard."
Broussel heard the scream of the young oddity; and, enchanted
with this excess of zeal, came down to the first floor, for he was,
in truth, working in his room on the second.
" Well!" said he, " friend—what matters the regiment of guards
to us, and art thou not mad to make such a disturbance?
Knowest thou not that it is the custom of these soldiers to act
thus, and that it is usual for the regiment to form themselves
intd a hedge where the king passes ?"
Friquet counterfeited surprise—and turning his new cap round
his fingers, said :
" It is not astonishing for you to know it, Monsieur Broussel,
who know everything;—but me, by the holy truth, I do not know
24©
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
it, and I thought I would give you good adviceyou must not
be angry with me for that, Monsieur Broussel."
" On the contrary, my boy; on the contrary, I am pleased
with your zeal. . Dame Nanette, see for those apricots which
'Madame de Longueville sent to us yesterday from Noisy, and give
half-a-dozen of them to your son, with a crust of new bread."
" Oh, thank you, sir, thank you, Monsieur Broussel," said
Friquet; "lam so fond of apricots !"
Broussel then proceeded ,to his wife's room, and asked for
breakfast; it was' nine o'clock. The counsellor placed himself
at the window; the street was completely deserted; but in the
distance was heard, like the noise of the tide rushing in, the deep
hum of the populous waves which increased around Notre Dame.
This noise redoubled, when D'Artagnan, with a company of
Musketeers, placed himself at the gates of Notre Dame to secure
the service of the church. He had told Porthos to profit by this
opportunity to see the ceremony ; and Porthos, in full dress,
mounted his finest horse, doing the part of an honorary Musketeer,
as D'Artagnan had so often done formerly. The sergeant of this
company, an old veteran of the Spanish wars, had recognised
Porthos, his old companion, and very soon all those who served
under him had been placed in possession of startling facts con-
cerning the honour of the ancient Musketeers of Treville. Por-
thos had not only been well received by the company, but he was,
moreover, looked upon with great admiration.
At ten o'clock the guns of the Louvre announced the departure
of the king, and then a movement, similar to that of trees in a
stormy wind bending and agitating their tops, ran through the
multitude, which was compressed behind the immovable muskets
of the guards. At last the king appeared with the queen in a
gilded chariot. Ten other carriages followed, containing the ladies
of honour, the officers of the royal household, and all the court.
" God save the king !" was the cry in every direction; the young-
monarch gravely put his head out of the window, looked suffi-
ciently grateful, and even bowed slightly : at which the cries of
the multitude were renewed.
Just as the court was being placed in the cathedral, a carriage,
bearing the arms of Comminges, quitted the line of court car-
riages, and proceeded slowly to the end of the Rue St. Christophe,
now entirely deserted. When it arrived there, four guards and a
police officer, who accompanied it, mounted into the heavy
machine, and closed the shutters; then, with a judicious ad-
mittance of the light, the policeman began to watch the length of
the Rue Cocatrix, as if he was waiting for some one.
The te DEtiM for The Victory oE lEns.
hi
All the world was occupied with the ceremony, so that neither
the chariot, nor the precautions taken by those who were within
it, had been observed. Friquet, whose eye, always on the alert,
could alone have discovered them, had gone to devour his apricots
upon the entablature of a house in the square of Notre Dame.
Thence, he saw the king, the queen, and Monsieur Mazarin, and
heard the mass, as well as if he had been on service.
Towards the end of the service, the queen, seeing Comminges
standing near her, waiting for a confirmation of the order she had
given him before quitting the Louvre, said, in a whisper:
" Go, Comminges, and may God aid you !"
Comminges immediately left the church, and entered the Rue
St. Christophe. Friquet, seeing this fine officer thus walk away,
followed by two guards, amused himself by pursuing them, and
did thus so much the more gladly, since the ceremony ended at
that instant, and the king remounted his carriage.
Hardly had the police-officer observed Comminges at the end
of the Rue Cocatrix, then he said one word to the coachman, who
at once put his vehicle into motion, and drove up before Broussel's
door. Comminges knocked at the door at the same moment, and
Friquet was waiting behind Comminges until the door should be
opened.
" What dost thou there, rascal ?" asked Comminges.
" I want to go into Master Broussel's house, captain," replied
Friquet, in that coaxing tone which the " gamins" of Paris know
so well how to assume when necessary.
" And on what floor does he live ?" asked Comminges.
" In the whole house," said Friquet; " the house belongs to him;
he occupies the second floor when he works, and descends to
the first to take his meals; he must be at dinner now—it is
noon."
"Good," said Comminges.
At this moment the door was opened, and having questioned
the servant, the officer learnt that Master Broussel was at home,
and at dinner.
Broussel was seated at the table with his family, having his wife
Opposite to him, his two daughters by his side, and his son,
Louvieres, whom we have already seen when the accident hap-
pened to the counsellor—an accident from which he had quite
recovered—at the bottom of the table. The worthy man, restored
to perfect health, was tasting the fine fruit which Madame de
Longueville had sent to him.
At the .sight of the officer, Broussel was somewhat moved; but
16
242
twenty Yeats afteE.
seeing him bow politely, he rose and bowed also. Still, in spite of
this reciprocal politeness, the countenances of the women betrayed
some uneasiness; Louvieres became very pale, and waited im-
patiently for the officer to explain himself.
"Sir," said Comminges, "I am the bearer of an order from
the king."
" Very well, sir," replied Broussel; " what is this order ?" And
he held out his hand.
"I am commissioned to seize your person, sir," said Com-
minges, in the same tone, and with the same politeness; " and if
you will believe me, you had better spare yourself the trouble
of reading that long letter, and follow me."
A thunderbolt falling in the midst of these good people, so peace-
fully assembled there, would not have produced a more appalling
effect. It was a terrible thing at that period to be imprisoned by
the enmity of the king. Louvieres sprang forward to take his
sword, which was on a chair in a corner of the room; but a'
glance from the worthy Broussel, who in the midst of it all did not
lose his presence of mind, checked this action of despair.
Madame Broussel, separated by the width of the table from her
husband, burst into tears, and the young girls clung to their father's
arms.
" Come, sir," said Comminges, " make haste, you must obey
the king."
"Sir," said Broussel, "I am in bad health, and cannot give
myself up a prisoner in this state; I ask time."
"It is impossible," said Comminges; "the order is strict, and
must be put into execution this instant."
" Impossible !" said Louvieres; " sir, beware of driving us to.
despair."
" Impossible !" cried a shrill voicq from the bottom of the
room.
Comminges turned and saw Dame Nanette, her eyes flashing
with anger, and a broom in her hand.
" My good Nanette, be quiet, I beseech you," said Broussel
" Me ! keep quiet while my master is arrested; he, the support
—the liberator—the father of the poof people ! Ah ! well, yes—
you have to know me yet. Are you going ?" added she to Com-
minges.
The latter smiled.
" Come, sir," said he, addressing Broussel, " silence that woman,
and follow me."
"Silence me i—me! me 1" said Nanette. ,fAh I yet one wants
The te deum eor the victory of lens. 243
"gome beside you for that, my fine king's-bird. You shall see."
And Dame Nanette sprang to the window, threw it open, and in
such a piercing voice that it might have been heard in the square
of Notre Dame:
" Help !" she screamed, " my master is being arrested ! the
Counsellor Broussel is arrested—help !"
"Sir," said Comminges, "declare yourself at once; will you
obey, or do you intend to rebel against the king ?"
" I obey—I obey, sir," cried Broussel, trying to disengage him-
self from the grasp of his two daughters, and to restrain, by his
look, his son, always ready to escape from it.
"In that case," said Comminges, "silence that old woman."
" Ah !' old woman !" screamed Nanette.
And she began to shriek loudly, clinging to the bars of the
window.
" Help ! help ! for Master Broussel, who is arrested because he
has defended the people—help !"
Comminges seized the servant round the waist, and would have
dragged her from her post • but at that instant a treble voice, pro-
ceeding from a kind of " entresol," was heard screeching:
" Murder ! fire ! assassins ! Master Broussel is being killed—
Master Broussel is being strangled."
It was Friquet's voice; and Dame Nanette, feeling herself sup-
ported, recommenced with all her strength to make a chorus.
Many curious faces had already appeared at the windows, and
the people, attracted to the end of the street, began to run—first,
men, then groups, and then a crowd of people; hearing cries, and
seeing a chariot, they could not understand it; but Friquet sprang
from the entresol on to the top of the carriage.
" They want to arrest Master Broussel," he cried; " the guards
g,re in the carriage, and the officer is upstairs !"
The crowd began to murmur, and approached the houses. The
two guards who had remained in the lane mounted to the aid of
Comminges; those who were in the chariot opened the doors and
presented arms.
" Don't you see them ?" cried Friquet, " don't you see ?—there
they are!"
The coachman turned round, and gave Friquet a cut with his
Whip, which made him scream with pain.
"Ah ! devil's coachman !" cried Friquet, "you're meddling too;
'—wait!"
And regaining his 'entresol,' he overwhelmed the coachman
With every projectile he could lay hands oh
16—i
m4
Twenty years after.
The tumult how began to increase; the street was not able to
contain the spectators, who assembled from every direction; the
crowd invaded the space which the dreaded pikes of the guards
kept clear, between them and the carriage. The soldiers, pushed
back by these living walls, were about to be crushed against the
nuts of the wheels and the panels of the carriage. The cries which
the police-officer repeated twenty times, of "In the king's name,"
were powerless against the formidable multitude, and seemed on the
contrary to exasperate it still more; when, at the cries, " In the
name of the king," an officer ran up, and seeing the uniforms milch
ill-treated, he sprang into the scuffle, sword in hand, and brought
unexpected help to the guards. This gentleman was a young man,
scarcely sixteen years of age, perfectly pale with anger. He sprang
on foot, as the other guards, placed his back against the shaft of
the carriage, making a rampart of his horse, drew his pistols from
their holsters, and fastened them to his belt, and began to fight
with the back sword, like a man accustomed to the handling of his
weapon.
During ten minutes he alone kept the crowd at bay; at last
Comminges appeared, pushing Broussel before him.
"Let us break the carriage !" cried the people.
" In the king's name !" cried Comminges.
"The first who advances is a dead man !" cried Raoul, for.it
was in fact he, who, feeling himself pressed and almost crushed by
a kind of giant, pricked him with the point of his sword, and sent
him groaning back.
Comminges, so to speak, threw Broussel into the carriage, and
sprang in after him. At this moment a shot was fired, and a ball
passed through the hat of Comminges, and broke the arm of one
of the guards. Comminges looked up, and saw among the smoke
the threatening face of Louvieres, appearing at the window of the
second floor.
" Very well, sir," said Comminges, " you shall hear of me again."
"And you of me, too, sir," said Louvieres; "and we shall see
who can speak the loudest."
Friquet and Nanette continued to shout; the cries, the noise of
the shot, and the intoxicating smell of powder, produced their effect
" Down with the officer! down with him !" was the cry.
" One step nearer," said Comminges, putting down the sashes
that the interior of the carriage might be well seen, and placing his
sword on his prisoner's breast, " one step nearer, and I kill the
prisoner; my orders were to bring him off alive or dead. I will
take him dead, that's all."
THE TE DEUM FOE THE VICTORY OF LENS. 245
A terrible cry was heard, and the wife and daughters of Broussel
held up their hands in supplication to the people; the latter knew
that this officer, who was so pale, but who appeared so determined,
would keep his word; they continued to threaten, but they began
to disperse.
" Drive to the palace," said Comminges to the coachman, more
dead than alive. .
The man whipped his animals, which cleared a way through the
crowd; but on arriving on the Quai, they were obliged to stop;
the carriage was upset, the horses were carried off, stifled, mangled
by the crowd. Raoul, on foot, for he had not had time to mount
his horse again, tired, like the guards, of distributing blows with
the flat of his sword, had recourse to its point. But this last and
dreaded resource served only to exasperate the multitude. From
time to time a shot from a musket, or the blade of a rapier, flashed
among the crowd; the projectiles continued to rain from the win-
dows, and some shots were heard, the echo of which, though they
were probably fired in the air, made all hearts vibrate. Voices,
which are heard but on days of revolution, were distinguished;
faces were seen that only appeared on days of bloodshed. Cries
of " Death !—death to the guards !—to the Seine with the officer!"
were heard above all the noise, deafening as it was. Raoul, his
hat ground to powder, and his face bleeding, felt not only his
strength, but also his reason going; a red mist covered his sight,
and through this mist he saw a hundred threatening arms stretched
over him, ready to seize upon him when he fell. The guards were
unable to help any one—for each was occupied with his personal
preservation. All was over; carriages, horses, guards, and per-
haps even the prisoner, were about to be torn to shreds, when all
at once a voice well known to Raoul was heard, and suddenly a
large sword glistened in the air; at the same time the crowd opened
—upset, trodden down—and an officer of the Musketeers, striking
and cutting right and left, rushed up to Raoul, and took him in
his arms, just as he was about to fall.
" God's-blood," cried the officer, " have they killed him ? Woe
to them if it be so."
And.he turned round, so stern with anger, strength, and threat,
that the most excited rebels hustled back against one another, in
order to escape, and some of them even rolled into the Seine.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan !" murmured Raoul.
"Yes, s'death, in person, and fortunately it seems for you, my
young friend. Come on —here—you others," he continued^
;ri§ing in his stirrups and raising his sword, and addressing thos§
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
Musketeers who had not been able to follow his rapid pace,
" come, sweep away all that for me—shoulder muskets—present
jarms—aim "
At this command the mountains of populace thinned so sud-
denly that D'Artagnan could not repress a burst of Homeric
laughter.
"Thank you, D'Artagnan," said Comminges, showing half of
his body through the window of the broken vehicle, "thanks,
my young friend; your name?—that I may mention it to the
queen."
Raoul was about to reply, when D'Artagnan bent down to his
ear.
"Hold your tongue," said he, "and let me answer. Do not
lose time, Comminges," he continued; " get out of the carriage,
if you can, and make another draw up; be quick, or in five
minutes all the mob will be back with swords and muskets, you
will be killed, and your prisoner freed. Hold—there is a carriage
coming down there."
Then, bending again to Raoul, he whispered, " Above all things,
don't tell your name."
"That's right. I will go," said'Comminges; "and if they come
back, fire!"'
" Not at all—not at all," replied D'Artagnan; " let no one move.
On the contrary, one shot at this moment would be paid for dearly
to-morrow."
Comminges took his four guards and as many Musketeers, and
ran to the carriage, from which he made the people inside dis-
mount, and brought them to the vehicle which had upset. But
when it was necessary to convey the prisoner from one carriage to
the other, the people, catching sight of him whom they called their
liberator, uttered • every imaginable cry, and knotted once more
against the vehicle.
" Start off!" said D'Artagnan. " There are ten men to accom-
pany you. I will keep twenty to hold in the mob; go, and lose
not a moment. Ten men for Monsieur de Comminges !"
As the carriage started off the cries were redoubled, and more
than ten thousand were hurried on the Quai, and encumbered the'
Pont-Neuf and the adjacent streets. A few shots wrere fired, and
a Musketeer wounded.
" Forward !" cried D'Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting his
moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men, and dis-
persed them in fear, One man alone remained in his place, gun
in hand.
THE TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY OF LENS. 247
" Ah !" he exclaimed, " it is thou who wouldst have him assas-
sinated?—wait an instant." And he pointed his gun at D'Artag-
nan, who was riding towards him at full speed. D'Artagnan bent
down to his horse's neck, the young man fired, and the ball severed
the feather from the hat. The horse, startled, brushed against the
imprudent man, who thought by his strength alone to stay the
tempest, and he fell against the wall. D'Artagnan pulled up his
horse, and while his Musketeers continued to charge, he returned,
and bent with drawn sword over the man whom he had knocked
down.
"Oh, sir !" exclaimed Raoul, recognising the young man as
having seen him in the Rue Cocatrix—"spare him—it is his
son I"
D'Artagnan's arm dropped to his side. "Ah, you are his
son !" he said—" that is a different thing."
" Sir, I surrender," said Louvieres, presenting his unloaded gun
to the officer.
" Eh, no; do not surrender, egad ! On the contrary, be off, and
quickly. If I take you, you will be hung."
The young man waited not to be told twice; but, passing
under the horse's head, disappeared at the corner of the Rue
Guenegaud.
" I'faith!" said D'Artagnan to Raoul, -" you were just in time to
stay my hand. He was a dead man : and, by my faith, if I had
discovered that it was his son, I should have regretted having
killed him."
" Ah ! sir," said Raoul, " allow me, after thanking you for that
poor fellow, to thank you on my own account. I too, sir, was
almost dead when you arrived."
"Wait—wait, young man, and do not fatigue yourself with
speaking. We can talk of it afterwards."
' Then, seeing that the Musketeers had cleared the Quai from
the Pont-Neuf to the Quai St. Michael, and that they were
returned, he raised his sword for them to double their speed. The
Musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom
D'Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared.
"Holloa!" cried D'Artagnan; "has something fresh happened?"
" Eh, sir !" replied the sergeant, " their vehicle has broken
down a second time—it is really doomed."
" They are bad managers," said D'Artagnan, shrugging his
shoulders. " When a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong.
The carriage in which a Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able
to bear ten thousand'men,"
248
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" What are your commands, my lieutenant ?"
"Take the detachment, and conduct him to his place."
" But you will be left alone ?"
" Certainly. Do you suppose I have need of an escort ? Go,"
The Musketeers set off, and D'Artagnan was left alone with Raoul.
"Now," he said, "are you in pain ?"
" Yes, my head is heavy and burning."
" What's the matter with this head ?" said D'Artagnan, raising
the battered hat. " Ah ! ah ! a bruise."
"Yes, I think I received.a flower-pot upon my head."
" Brutes !" said D'Artagnan. But were you not on horseback ?
—you have spurs."
"Yes, but I got down to defend Monsieur de Comminges, and
my horse was taken away. Here it is, I see."
At this very moment Friquet passed, mounted on Raoul's
horse, waving his parti-coloured cap, and crying, " Broussel!
Broussel !"
" Holloa! stop, rascal!" cried D'Artagnan. " Bring hither that
horse."
Friquet heard perfectly, but he pretended not to do so, and tried
to continue his road. D'Artagnan felt inclined for an instant to
pursue Master Friquet, but not wishing to leave Raoul alone,
he contented himself with taking a pistol from the holster, and
cocking it.
Friquet had a quick eye and a fine ear. He saw D'Artagnan's
movement; heard the sound of the click, and stopped at once.
"Ah! it is you, your honour," he said, advancing towards
D'Artagnan; " and I am truly pleased to meet you."
D'Artagnan looked attentively at Friquet, and recognised the
little boy of the Rue de la Calandre.
" Ah, 'tis thou, rascal !" said he, " come here. So thou hast
changed thy trade; thou art no longer a choir-boy, or a tavern-
boy ; thou art then become a horse stealer ?"
"Ah, your honour, how can you say so !" exclaimed Friquet. "I
was seeking the gentleman to whom this horse belongs—an officer,
brave and handsome as a Caesar "—then, pretending to see Raoul
fur the first time,—
"Ah! but if I mistake not," continued he, "here he is; you won't
forget the boy, sir ?"
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
" What are you about ?" asked D'Artagnan.
" To give ten francs to this honest fellow," replied Raoul, taking
a pistole from his pocket.
THE TE.DEUM FOR THE VICTORY OF LENS. 249
"Ten kicks on his back !" said D'Artagnan; "be off, you little
rascal, and forget not that I have your address."
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply, made but
one - bound to the Quai & la Rue Dauphine, and disappeared.
Raoul mounted his horse, and both leisurely took their way to the
Rue Tiquetonne.
D'Artagnan protected the youth as if he were'his own son.
They arrived without accident at the Hotel de la Chevrette.
The handsome Madeleine announced to D'Artagnan that
Planchet had returned, bringing Mousqueton with him, who had
heroically borne the extraction of the ball, and was as well as his
state would permit.
D'Artagnan desired Planchet to he summoned, but he had
disappeared.
" Then bring some wine," said D'Artagnan. " You are much
pleased with yourself?" said he to Raoul, when they were alone,
" are you not ?"
" Well, yes," replied Raoul; " it seems to me that I did my
duty. I defended the king."
" And who told you to defend the king ?"
" The Count de la Fere himself!"
"Yes, the king; but to-day you have not fought for the king,
you have fought for Mazarin; it is not the same thing."
" But you yourself?"
" Oh, for me; it is another matter. I obey my captain's orders.
As for' you, your captain is the prince. Understand that rightly;
you have no other. But has one ever seen such a wild fellow,"
continued he, " making himself a Mazarinist, and helping to
arrest Broussel ! Breathe not a word of that, or the Count de la
Fere will be furious."
" You think that the count will be angry with me ?"
" Do I think it ?—I am sure of it; were it not for that, I should
thank you, for you have worked for us. However, I scold you
instead of him, and in his place; the storm will blow over more
easily, believe me. And, moreover, my dear child," continued
D'Artagnan, " I am making use of the privilege conceded to me
by your guardian."
" I do not understand you, sir," said Raoul.
D'Artagnan rose, and taking a letter from his writing-desk, pre-
rented it to Raoul. The face of the latter became serious when
he had cast his eyes on the paper.
" Oh, ' mon Dieu !'" he said, raising his fine eyes to D'Artagnan,
moist with tears, " the count has then left Paris without seeing
me ?"
250
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" He left four days ago," said D'Artagnan.
" But his letter seems to intimate that he is about to incur
danger, perhaps of death."
" He—he—incur danger of death!—no—be not anxious; he is
travelling on business, and will return ere long. I hope you have
no repugnance to accept me as a guardian in the interim ?"
" Oh, no, Monsieur D'Artagnan," said Raoul, " you are such a
brave gentleman, and the Count de la Fere has so much affection
for you !"
" Eh, egad ! love me too; I will not torment you much, but only
on condition that you become a Frondist, my young friend, and a
hearty Frondist, too."
"Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand you."
" It is unnecessary for you to understand; hold," continued
D'Artagnan, turning towards' the door, which had just opened,
" here is Monsieur de Valon, who comes with his coat torn."
" Yes, but in exchange," said Porthos, covered with perspira-
tion, and soiled in dust—" in exchange, I have torn many skins.
Those wretches wanted to take away my sword ! Deuce take 'em,
what a popular commotion !" continued the giant, in his quiet
manner ; " but I knocked down more than twenty with the hilt of
Balizarde ;—a drop of wine, D'Artagnan."
"Oh, I'll answer for. you," said the Gascon, filling Porthos'
glass to the brim, "but, when you have drunk, give me your
opinion."
" Upon what ?" asked Porthos.
" Look here," resumed D'Artagnan ; " here is Monsieur de .
Bragelonne, who determined, at all risks, to aid the arrest of
Broussel, and whom I had great difficulty to prevent defending
Monsieur de Comminges."
" The devil!" said Porthos; " and the guardian, what would
he have said to that ?"
" Do you hear?" interrupted D'Artagnan; "be a Frondist, my
friend, belong to the Fronde, and remember that I fill the count's
place in everythingand he jingled his money.
" Will you come ?" said he to Porthos. '
" Where to ?" asked Porthos, filling a second glass of wine.
"To present our respects to the Cardinal."
Porthos swallowed the-second glass with the same ease with
which he had drunk the first, took his beaver, and followed B'Ar-
tagnan. As for Raoul, he remained bewildered with what he had
seen, having been forbidden by D'Artagnan to leave the room
until the tqmult was oyer,
THE BEGGAR OF ST, EUSTACHE.
CHAPTER XLIII,
the beggar of st. eustache.
D'Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the
Palais Royale he would give time to Comminges to arrive there
before him, and consequently to make the Cardinal acquainted
with the eminent services which he, D'Artagnan and his friend,
had rendered to the queen's party in the morning.
' They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid
them numerous compliments, and announced that they were more
than half on their way to obtain what they desired, namely,
D'Artagnan his captaincy, and Porthos his barony.
Whilst the two friends were with the Cardinal, the queen sent
for him. Mazarin, thinking that it would be the means of in-
creasing the zeal of his two defenders if he procured them personal
thanks from the queen, motioned to them to follow him. D'Ar-
tagnan and Porthos pointed to their dusty and torn dresses, but
the Cardinal shook his head.
"Those costumes," he said, "are of more worth than most -of
those which you will see on the queen's courtiers; they are the
tostumes of battle."
D'Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. The court of Anne of Austria
was full of gaiety and animation ; for, after having gained a victory
►over the Spaniard, it had just gained another over the people.
Broussel had been conducted out of Paris without resistance, and
was at this time in the prison of St. Germain; and Blancmesnil,
who was arrested at the same time, but whose arrest had been
made without difficulty or noise, was safe in the Castle of Yin-
cennes.
Comminges was near the queen, who was questioning him upon
the details of his expedition, and everyone was listening to his
account when D'Artagnan and Porthos were perceived at the door
behind the Cardinal.
" Hey, madamfi'3 said Comminges, hastening to D'Artagnan,
" here is one who can tell yOu better than myself, for he is my
protector. Without him I should probably, at this moment, be
caught in the nets at St. Cloud, for it was a question of nothing
less than throwing me into the river. Speak, D'Artagnan, speak."
D'Artagnan had been a hundred times in the same room with
the queen since he had become lieutenant of the Musketeers, but
her majesty had never once spoken to him,
252
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Well, sir," at last said Anne of Austria, "you are silent, after
rendering such a service ?"
"Madame," replied D'Artagnan, "I have nought to say, save
that my life is ever at your majesty's service; and that I shall
only be happy the day that I lose it for you."
" I know that, sir; I have known that," said the queen, "along
time; therefore I am delighted to be able thus publicly to mark
my gratitude and my esteem."
" Permit me, madame," said D'Artagnan, " to reserve a portion
for my friend; like myself"—(he laid an emphasis on these words)
—"an ancient Musketeer of the company of Treville, and he has
done wonders."
" His name ?" asked the queen.
" In the regiment," said D'Artagnan, "he is called Porthos " (the
queen started), " but his true name is the Chevalier de Valon."
" De Bracieux de Pierrefonds," added Porthos.
" These names are too numerous for me to remember them all,
and I will content myself with the first," said the queen, graciously.
Porthos bowed. At this moment the Coadjutor was announced;
a cry of surprise ran through the royal assemblage. ALthough the
Coadjutor had preached that same morning, it was well known
that he leant much to the side of the Fronde; and Mazarin, in
requesting the Archbishop of Paris to make his nephew preach,
had evidently had the intention of administering to Monsieur de
Retz one of those Italian kicks which he so much enjoyed giving.
The fact was, in leaving Notre Dame the Coadjutor had learnt
the event of the day. Although almost engaged to the leaders of
the Fronde, he had not gone so far but that retreat was possible,
should the court offer him the' advantages for which he was am-
bitious, and to which the Ccadjutorship was but a stepping stone.
Monsieur de Retz wished to be archbishop in his uncle's place,
and cardinal, like Mazarin; and the popular party could with
difficulty accord to him favours so entirely royal. He, therefore,
hastened to the palace to congratulate the queen on the battle of
Lens, determined beforehand to act with of against the court, ac-
cording as his congratulations were well or ill received.
The Coadjutor had, perhaps, in his own person, as much wit as
all those together who were assembled at the court to laugh at
him. His speech, therefore, was so well turned, that in spite of
the great wish felt by the courtiers to laugh, they could find no
point upon which to vent their ridicule. He concluded by saying
that he placed his feeble influence at her majesty's command.
During the whole time that he was speaking the queen appeare4
THE BEGGAR OE ST. EUSTACIlE.
m
to be well pleased with the Coadjutor's harangue; but terminating
as it did with such a phrase, the only one which could be caught
at by the jokers, Anne turned round and directed a glance towards
her favourites, which announced that she delivered up the
Coadjutor to their tender mercies. Immediately the wits of the
court plunged into satire. Nogent-Beautin, the fool of the court,
exclaimed that " the queen was very happy to have the succour
of religion at such a moment." This caused a universal burst of
laughter. The Count de Villeroy said " that he did not know how
any fear could be entertained for a moment when the court had,
to defend itself against the parliament and the citizens of Paris,
his holiness the Coadjutor, who by a signal could raise an army of
curates, church porters and vergersand so on.
During this storm, Gondy, who had it in his power to make it
fatal to the jesters, remained calm and stern. The queen at last
asked him if he had anything to add to the fine discourse which
he had just made to her.
" Yes, madame," replied the Coadjutor; " I have to beg you to
reflect twice ere you cause a civil war in the kingdom."
The queen turned her back, and the laughs recommenced.
The Coadjutor bowed and left the palace, casting upon the
Cardinal such a glance as is understood best between mortal foes.
" Oh!" muttered Gondy, as he left the threshold of the palace
—" ungrateful court! faithless court! cowardly court ! I will teach
you how to laugh to-morrow—but in another manner."
But whilst they were indulging in extravagant joy at the Palais
Royale, to increase the hilarity of the queen, Mazarin, a man of
sense, and whose fear, moreover, gave him foresight, lost no time
in making idle and dangerous jokes; he went out after the Coad-
jutpr, settled his account, locked up his gold, and had confidential
workmen to contrive hiding-places in his walls.
On his return home the Coadjutor was informed that a young
man had come in after his departure, and was waiting for him;
he started with delight when, on demanding the name of this
young man, he learnt that it was Louvieres.
He immediately went to his room, and advancing towards him,
held out his hand. The young man gazed at him as if he would
have read the secret of his heart.
" My dear Monsieur Louvieres," said the Coadjutor, " believe
how truly concerned I am for the misfortune which has happened
to you."
" Is that true, and do you speak seriously ?" asked Louvieres.
" From the depth of my heart," said Gondy.
254
Twenty years 'after.
"In that case, my lord, the time for words has passed, and the
hour for action is come. My lord, in three days, if you wish it,
my father will be out of prison, and in six months you may be
Cardinal.'"'
The Coadjutor started.
" Oh ! let us speak frankly," continued Louvieres, " and act in
a straightforward manner. Thirty thousand crowns in alms is not
given—as you have done for the last six months—out of pure
Christian charity; that would be too grand. You are ambitious,
it is natural; you are a man of genius, and you know your
worth. As for me, I hate the court, and have but one desire at
this moment—it is for vengeance. Give us the clergy and the
people, of whom you can dispose, and I will bring you the citizens
and the parliament: with these four elements Paris is ours in a
week; and believe me, Monsieur Coadjutor, the court will give
from fear what she will not give from good will."
It was now the Coadjutor's turn to fix his piercing glance on
Louvieres.
" But, Monsieur Louvieres, are you aware that it is simply civil
war that you propose to me ?"
" You have been preparing it long enough, my lord, for it to be
welcome to you now."
" Never mind," said the Coadjutor; " you must know that this
requires reflection."
" And how many hours of reflection do you ask ?"
" Twelve hours, sir; is it too long ?"
" It is now noon : at midnight I will be at your house."
" If I am not come in, wait for me."
" Good ! at midnight, my lord."
"At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvieres."
When once more alone, Gondy sent to summon all the curates
with whom he had any connection, to his house. Two hours later,
thirty officiating ministers from the most populous, and conse-
quently the most disturbed, parishes of Paris, had assembled to-
gether there. Gondy related to them the insults he had received
at the Palais Royal, and retailed the jests of Beautin, Count de
Villeroy, and the Marechal de la Meilleraie. The curates demanded
what was to be done.
» " Simply this," said the Coadjutor; " you are the directors of
consciences. Well, undermine in them the miserable prejudice of
respect and fear of kings—teach to your flocks that the queen is a
tyrant; and repeat, often and loudly, so that all may know it, that
the misfortunes of France are caused by Mazarin, her lover and
THE BEGGAR OP ST. EVSTACHE. 2$$
her destroyer; begin this work to-day, this instant even, and in
three days I shall expect the result. For the rest, if any one of
you have good counsel to give me, I shall listen to him with
pleasure."
Three curates remained : those of St. Merri, St. Sulpice, and St.
Eustache.
" You think, then, that you can" help me more efficaciously
than1 your brothers ?" said Gondy.
"We hope so," answered the curates.
" Let us hear. Monsieur de St. Merri, you begin."
" My lord, I have in my parish a man who might be of the
greatest use to you."
" What is this man ?"
" A shopkeeper in the Rue des Lombards, who has great influence
upon the little commerce of his quarter."
" What is his name ?"
" He is named Planchet, who himself also caused an entente
about six weeks ago; but as he was searched for after this emeute,
he disappeared."
" And could you find him ?"
" I hope so. I think he has not been arrested, and as I am his
wife's confessor, if she knows where he is, I shall know it too."
" Very well, sir; find this man, and when you have found him,
bring him to me."
" We will be with you at six o'clock, my lord."
" Go, my dear curate, and may God aid you !"
"And you, sir," continued Gondy, turning to the curate of St.
Sulpice "
" I, my lord," said the latter, " I know a man who has rendered
great services to a very popular prince, and who would make an
excellent leader of a revolt, and whom I can put at your disposal \
it is Count de Rochefort."
" I know him also, but unfortunately he is not in Paris."
" My lord, he has been for three days at the Rue Cassette."
" And wherefore has he not been to see me ?"
" He was told—my lord will pardon me ?"
"Certainly; speak."
" That your lordship was about to treat with the court."
Gondy bit his lips.
" They are mistaken; bring him here at eight o'clock, sir, and
may Heaven bless you as I bless you !"
" And now 'tis your turn," said the Coadjutor, turning to the
last that remained, " have you anything so good to offer me as the
two gentlemen who have left us ?"
'TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
"Better, my lord."
" Diable / think what a solemn engagement you are making
there; one has offered a shopkeeper, the other a count; you are
going, then, to offer a prince, are you ?"
" I offer you a beggar, my lord."
" Ah ! ah!" said Gondy, reflecting, " you are right, sir; some
one who could raise the legion of paupers who choke up the
crossings of Paris, some one who would know how to cry aloud to
them, that all France might hear it, that it is Mazarin who has
reduced them to the wallet "
" Exactly your man."
" Bravo ! and what is the man ?"
" A simple beggar, as I have said, my lord, who asks for alms,
as he gives holy water, a practice he has carried on for about six
years on the steps of the Church of St. Eustache."
" And you say that he has a great influence over his compeers ?"
" Are you aware, my lord, that mendicity is an organised body,
a kind of association of those who have not, against those who
have—an association in which every one takes his share, and
which elects a leader."
"Yes, I have heard that said," replied the Coadjutor.
"Well, the man whom I offer to you is a universal authority."
" And what do you know of this man ?"
" Nothing, my lord, except that he is tormented with remorse."
" What makes you think so ?"
" On the twenty-eighth of every month, he makes me say a mass
for the repose of the soul of a person who died a violent death;
yesterday I said this mass again."
" And his name ?"
" Maillard; but I do not think it is his true name."
" And think you that we should find him at this hour at his
post?"
"Certainly."
" Let us go and see your beggar, sir, and if he is such as you
describe him, you are right—it will be you who have found the
true treasure."
Gondy dressed himself as an officer, put on a felt cap with a red
feather, hung on a long sword, buckled spurs to his boots, wrapped
himself in an ample cloak, and followed the curate.
On arriving at the Rue des Prouvaires, the curate pointed to-
wards the square before the church.
" Stop i" he said, " there he is at his post."
Gondy looked at the spot indicated, and perceived a beggar
THE BEGGAR OF ST. EUSTACHE.
257
seated in a chair, and leaning against one of the mouldings; a
little basin was near him, and he held a holy-water brush in his
hand.
" Is it by permission that he remains there ?" asked Gondy.
"No, my lord ; these places are bought; I think that this man
paid his predecessor a hundred pistoles for his."
" The rascal is rich, then ?"
" Some of these men sometimes die worth twenty thousand, and
twenty-five, and thirty thousand francs, and sometimes more."
" Hum!" said Gondy, laughing; " I was not aware that my
alms were so well invested."
In the meantime they were advancing towards the square, and
the moment the Coadjutor and the curate put their feet on the
first church step, the mendicant rose and proffered his brush.
He was a man between sixty-six and sixty-eight years of age,
little, rather stout, with grey hair, and light eyes. His counte-
nance denoted the struggle between two opposite principles—a
wicked nature subdued by determination, perhaps by repentance.
• He started on seeing the cavalier with the curate. The latter
and the Coadjutor touched the brush with the tips of their fingers,
made the sign of the cross ; the Coadjutor threw a piece of money
into the hat, which was on the ground.
" Maillard," began the curate, " this gentleman and I have come
to talk with you a little."
"With me !" said the mendicant; "it is a great honour for a
poor giver of holy water."
There was an ironical tone in his voice, which he could not
quite prevent, and which astonished the Coadjutor.
"Yes," continued the curate, apparently accustomed to his
tone, " yes, we wish to know your opinion of the events of to-day,
and what you have heard said by people going in and out-of the
church."
The 'mendicant shook his head.
" These are melancholy doings, your reverence, which always,
fall again upon the poor people. As to what is said, everybody is
discontented—everybody complains—but "
" Explain yourself, my good friend," said the Coadjutor.
" I mean that all these cries, all these complaints, these curses,
produce nothing but storms and flashes, and that is all; but the
lightning will not strike until there is a hand to guide it."
" My friend," said Gondy, " you seem to be a clever man; are
you disposed to take a part in a little civil war, should we have
one, and put at the command of the leader—should we find one
T7
258
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
—your personal influence, and the influence you have acquired
over your comrades."
"Yes, sir, provided this war was approved by the church, and
would advance the end I wish to attain—I mean the remission of
my sins."
" This war will not only be approved of, but directed by the
church. As for the remission of your sins, we have the Archbishop
of Paris, who has great power at the court of Rome, and even the
Coadjutor, who possesses some particular indulgences—we will
recommend you to him. And do you think your power as great,
with your fraternity as Monsieur le Cure told me it was just now ?"
" I think they have some esteem for me," said the mendicant,
with pride, " and not only they will obey me, but that, wherever I
go, they will follow me."
"And could you count upon fifty resolute men, good, unem-
ployed, but active souls, brawlers capable of bringing down the
walls of the Palais Royal by crying ' Down with Mazarin,' as fell
all those at Jericho ?"
" I think," said the beggar, " that 1 can undertake things more
difficult, and more important than that."
"Ah, ah," said Gondy, "you will undertake, then, some night,
to throw up some ten barricades."
" I will undertake to throw up fifty, and when the day comes to
defend them."
"I'faith!" exclaimed Gondy, "you speak with a certainty that
gives me pleasure; and since Monsieur le Cure can answer for
you "
"I answer for him," said the curate.
" Here is a bag containing five hundred pistoles in gold—-make
all your arrangements, and tell me where I shall be able to find
you this evening at ten o'clock."
" It must be on some elevated place, whence a given signal may
be seen in every quarter of Paris."
" Shall I give you a line for the Vicar of St. Jaques-de-la Bou-
cherie? he will let you into the rooms in his tower," said the
curate.
" Capital," answered the mendicant.
" Then," said the Coadjutor, " this evening, at ten o'clock; and
if I am pleased with you, another bag of five hundred pistoles will
be at your disposal."
The eyes of the mendicant flashed with cupidity, but he SUj>
pressed this emotion.
"This evening, sir," he replied, "all will be read v."
THE TOWER OP ST. J A Q UES-DE-LA-BOUCHERIE. 259
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE TOWER OF ST.. JAQUES-DE-LA-B0UCHER1E.
At a quarter to six o'clock, Monsieur de Gondy, having finished all
his business, returned to the archiepiscopal palace.
At six o'clock the Curate of St. Merri was announced.
The Coadjutor glanced rapidly behind, and saw that he was foh
lowed by another man. The curate then entered, followed by
Planchet.
"Your holiness," said the curate, "here is the person of whom
I had the honour to speak to you."
" And you are disposed to serve the cause of the people ?" asked
Gondy.
"Most undoubtedly," said Planchet. "I am a Frondist from
my heart. You see in me, such as I am, my lord, a person sen-
Senced to be hung."
"And on what account?"
" I rescued from the hands of Mazarin's police a noble lord,
whom they were conducting again to the Bastille, where he had
been for five years."
" Will you name him ?"
" Oh, you know him well, my lord :—it is Count de Rochefort."
"Ah ! really, yes," said the Coadjutor, " I have heard this affair
mentioned. You raised the whole district, they told me ?"
"Very nearly," replied Planchet, with a self-satisfied air.
" And your business is "
"That of a confectioner, in the Rue des Lombards."
" Explain to me how it happens that, following so peaceful a
business, you had such warlike inclinations."
" Why does my lord, belonging to the church, now receive me
in the dress of an officer with a sword at his side, and spurs to his
boots ?"
"Not badly answered, i'faith," said Gondy, laughing; "but I
have, you must know, always had, in spite of my bands, warlike
inclinations."
" Well, my lord, before I became a confectioner, I myself was
three years sergeant in the Piedmontese regiment, and before I
became sergeant I was for eighteen months the servant of Monsieur
D'Artagnan."
" The lieutenant of the Musketeers ?" asked Gondy.
" Himself, my lord."
17=2
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" But he is said to be a furious Mazarinist."
" Hew!" said Planchet.
" What do you mean by that ?"
"Nothing, my lord; Monsieur D'Artagnan belongs to the ser-
vice; Monsieur D'Artagnan makes it his business to defend the
Cardinal, who pays him, as much as we make it ours—we citizens
—to attack him, whom he robs."
"You are an intelligent fellow, my friend; can we count upon
you ?"
"You may count upon me, my lord, provided you want to make
a total overturning in the city."
" 'Tis that exactly. How many men, think you, you could collect
together to-night ?"
"Two hundred muskets, and five hundred halberds."
" Let there be only one man in every district who can do as
much, and by to-morrow we shall have a tolerably strong army.
Are you disposed to obey Count de Rochefort ?"
" I would follow him to hell; and that is not saying a little, as
I believe him quite capable of descending there."
" Bravo !"
" By what sign to-morrow shall we be able to distinguish friends
from foes ?"
" Every Frondist must put a knot of straw in his hat."
"Good ! Give the watchword."
" Do you want money ?"
" Money never comes amiss at any time, my lord; if one has it
not, one must do without it; with it matters go on much better,
and more rapidly."
Gondy went to a box and drew forth a bag.
" Here are five hundred pistoles," he said; " and if the action
goes off well you may reckon upon a similar sum to-morrow."
" I will give a faithful account of the sum to your lordship," said
Planchet, putting the bag under his arm.
" That is right: I recommend the Cardinal to your
attention."
" Make your mind easy, he is in good hands."
Planchet went out, and ten minutes, later the curate of St. Sulpice
was announced. As soon as the door of Gondy's study was
opened, a man rushed in; it was Count de Rochefort.
"It is you, then, my dear count," cried Gondy, offering his
hand.
" You are decided at last, my lord ?" said Rochefort
" I have ever been so," said Gondy.
THE TOWER OF ST. J A Q UES-DE-LA -BOUCHERIE. 261
" Let us speak no more on that subject: you tell me so—I
believe you. Well, we are going to give a ball to Mazarin."
" I hope so."
" And when will the dance begin ?"
" The invitations are given for this evening," said the Coadjutor,
"but the violins will only begin to play to-morrow morning."
" You may reckon upon me, and upon fifty soldiers which the
Chevalier d'Humieres has promised to me, whenever I might, need
them."
" Upon fifty, soldiers ?"
" Yes, he is making recruits, and he will lend them to me; if
any are missing, when the fete is over, I shall replace them."
"Good, my dear Rochefort; but that is not all. "What have
you done with Monsieur de Beaufort ?"
" He is in Vendome, where he waits until I write to him to
return to Paris."
"Write to him—now's the time."
"You are sure of your enterprise?"
"Yes, but he must hurry himself;—for hardly shall the people
of Paris have revolted, than we shall have ten princes to one,
wishing to be at their head: if he defers, he will find the place
taken."
" And you will leave all command to him ?"
"For the war, yes; but in politics "
"You know it is not his element."
" He must leave me to negotiate for my cardinal's hat in my
own fashion."
" You care about it so much?"
" Since they force me to wear a hat of a form which does
not become me," said Gondy, " I wish at least that the hat should
be red."
" One must not dispute taste and colours," said Rochefort, laugh-
ing. "I answer for his consent."
" How soon can he be here ?"
" In five days."
" Let him come, and he will find a change, I will answer
for it. Therefore, go and collect your fifty men, and hold yourself
in- readiness."
"For what?"
" For everything."
" Is there any signal for rallying ?"
" A knot of straw in the hat."
"Very good. Adieu, my lord."
262
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Adieu, my dear Rochefort."
" Ah! Monsieur Mazarin, Monsieur Mazarin," said Rochefort,
leading off his curate, who had not found an opportunity of utter-
ing a single word during the foregoing dialogue, " you will see
whether I am too old to be a man of action."
It was half-past nine o'clock, and the Coadjutor required half
an hour to go from the Archbishop's palace to the tower of
St. Jaques-de-la-Boucherie. He remarked that a light burnt in
one of the highest windows of the tower. " Good," said he, " our
syndic is at his post."
He knocked, and the door was opened. The vicar himself
awaited him, conducted him to the top of the tower, and when
there pointed to a little door, placed the light which he had
brought with him in a corner of the wall, that the Coadjutor might
be able to find it on his return, and went down again. Although
the key was in the door, the Coadjutor knocked.
" Come in," said a voice which he recognised as that of the
mendicant, whom he found lying on a kind of truckle bed. He
rose on the entrance of the Coadjutor, and at that moment ten
o'clock struck.
"Well," said Gondy, "have you kept your word with me?"
" Not quite," replied the mendicant.
" How is that ?"
"You asked me for five hundred men, did you not? Well, I
shall have ten thousand for you."
" You are not boasting ?"
" Do you wish for a proof?"
"Yes."
There were three candles alight—each of which burnt before a
window—one looking upon the City, the other upon the Palais
Royal, and a third upon the Rue St. Denis.
The man went silently to each of the candles, and blew them
out one after the other.
" What are you doing ?" asked the Coadjutor.
" I have given the signal."
"For what?"
"For the barricades. When you leave this, you will see my
men at their work. Only take care not to break your legs in
stumbling over some chain, nor to fall into some hole."
" Good ! there is your money,—the same sum as that which you
have received already. Now remember that you are a general, and
do not go and drink."
" For twenty years I have tasted nothing but water."
THE TOWER OF ST. /AQUES-DE-LA-BOUCIIERIE. 263
The man took the bag from the hands of the Coadjutor,
who heard the sound of his fingers counting and handling the
gold pieces.
" Ah ! ah !" said the Coadjutor, " you are avaricious, my good
fellow."
The mendicant sighed, and threw down the bag.
" Must I always be the same," said he, " and shall I never sue-
ceed in overcoming the old leaven ? Oh misery, oh vanity !"
"You take it, however."
" Yes, but I make a vow in your presence, to employ all that
remains to me in pious works."
His face was pale and drawn, like that of a man who had just
undergone an inward struggle.
" Singular man !" muttered Gondy, taking his hat to go away,
when he saw the beggar between him and the door. His first idea
was that this man intended to do him some harm—but on the con-
trary he soon fell on his knees before him, with his hands clasped.
" Your blessing, your holiness, before you go, I beseech you !"
he cried.
"Your holiness !" said Gondy; "my friend, you take me for
some one else."
" No, your holiness, I take you for what you are; that is to say,
the Coadjutor—I recognised you at the first glance."
Gondy smiled—" And you want my blessing ?" he said.
"Yes, I have need of it."
The mendicant uttered these words in a tone of such great
humility, and such earnest repentance, that Gondy placed his hand
upon him, and gave him his benediction with all the unction of
which he was capable.
"Now," said the Coadjutor, "there is a communion between
us. I have blessed you, and you are sacred to me. Come, have
you committed some crime, pursued by human justice, from which
I can protect you ?"
The beggar shook his head.—" The crime which I have com-
mitted, my lord, has no call upon human justice, and you can only
deliver me from it in blessing me frequently, as you have just
done."
" Come, be candid," said the Coadjutor, " you have not all your
life followed the trade which you do now ?"
"No, my lord. I have pursued it for six years only"
" And, previously, where were you ?"
" In the Bastille."
" And before you went to the Bastille ?"
264
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"I will tell you, my lord, on the day when you are willing to
hear my confession."
" Good! at whatever hour of the day, or of the night on which
you present yourself, remember that I shall be ready to give you
absolution."
" Thank you, my lord," said the mendicant in a hoarse voice.
" But I am not yet ready to receive it."
"Very well. Adieu."
" Adieu, your holiness," said the mendicant, opening the door,
and bending low before the prelate.
CHAPTER XLV.
the riot.
It was about eleven o'clock at night. Gondy had not walked a
hundred steps ere he perceived the strange change which had been
made in the streets of Paris.
The whole city seemed peopled with fantastic beings; silent
shadows were seen unpaving the streets, and others dragging and
upsetting great waggons, whilst others again dug ditches' large
enough to engulph whole regiments of horsemen. These active
beings flitted here and there like so many demons completing
some unknown labour—these were the beggars of the Court of
Miracles—the agents of the giver of holy water in the square of
St. Eustache—preparing the barricades for the morrow.
Gondy gazed on these men of darkness—these nocturnal labour-
ers, with a kind of fear: he asked himself if, after having called
forth these foul creatures from their dens, he should have the
power of making them retire again. He felt almost inclined to
cross himself when one of these beings happened to approach
him. He reached the Rue St. Honore, and went up it towards
the Rue de la Ferroniere : there, the aspect changed; here it was
the tradesmen who were running from shop to shop : their doors
seemed closed like their shutters; but they were only pushed-to
in such a manner as to open and allow the men, who seemed
fearful of showing what they carried, to enter, closing immediately.
These men were shopkeepers, who had arms to lend to those who
had none.
One individual went from door to door, bending under the
weight of swords, guns, muskets, and every kind of weapon, which
THE RIOT.
265
he deposited as fast as he could. By the light of a lantern the
Coadjutor recognised Planchet.
On reaching the Pont-Neuf, the Coadjutor found this bridge
guarded, and a man approached him.
"Who are you?" asked the man \ "I do not know you for one of us."
" Then it is because you do not know your friends, my dear
Monsieur Louvieres," said the Coadjutor, raising his hat.
Louvieres recognised him and bowed.
Gondy continued his way, and went as far as the Tour de Nesle.
There he saw a long line of people gliding under the walls. They
might be said to be a procession- of ghosts, for they were all
wrapped in white cloaks. When they reached a certain spot, these
men seemed to be annihilated one after the other, as if the earth had
opened under their feet. Gondy edged into a corner, saw them
vanish from the first until the last but one. The last raised his eyes,
to ascertain doubtless that neither his companions nor himself had
been watched, and in spite of the darkness he perceived Gondy.
He walked straight up to him, and placed a pistol to his throat.
"Holloa, Monsieur de Rochefort," said Gondy, laughing, "do
not let us play with fire-arms."
Rochefort recognised the voice.
" Ah, it is you, my lord," said he.
" Myself. What people are you leading thus into the bowels cf
the earth ?"
" My fifty recruits from the Chevalier d'Humieres, who are
destined to enter the light cavalry, and who have only received for
their equipment their white cloaks."
" And where are you going ?"
"To one of my friends, a sculptor, only we descend by the trap
through which he lets down his marble."
" Very good," said Gondy, shaking Rochefort by the hand, who
descended in his turn, and closed the trap after him.
It was now one o'clock in the morning, and the Coadjutor re-
turned home. He opened a window and leant out to listen. A
strange, incomprehensible, unearthly sound seemed to pervade the
whole city; one felt that something unusual and terrible was
happening in all the streets, now dark as abysses.
The work of revolt continued the whole night thus. The next
morning, on awaking, Paris seemed to be startled at her own
appearance. It was like a besieged town. Armed men, shoulder-
ing muskets, watched over the barricades, with menacing looks;
words of command, patrols, arrests, executions, even, were en-
countered nt every step. Those bearing plumed hats and gold
266
TV/ENTY YEARS AFTER.
swords were stopped and made to cry, " Long live Broussel!"
" Down with Mazarin !" and whoever refused to comply with this
ceremony was hooted at, spat upon, and even beaten. They had
not yet begun to slay, but it was well felt that the inclination to do
sp was not wanting.
The barricades had been pushed as far as the Palais Royal, and
the astonishment of Mazarin and of Anne of Austria was great
when it was announced to them that the city, which the previous
evening they had left tranquil, had awakened so feverish and in such
commotion; nor would either the one or the other believe the
reports which were brought to them, and declared that they would
rather rely on the evidence of their own eyes and ears. Then
a window was opened, and when they saw and heard, they were
convinced.
Mazarin shrugged his shoulders, and pretended to despise the
populace much ; but he turned visibly pale, and ran to his closet
trembling all over, locked up his gold and jewels in his caskets,
and put his finest diamonds on his fingers. As for the queen,
furious, and left to her own guidance, she sent for the Marechal
de la Meilleraie, and desired him to take as many men as he
pleased, and to go and see what was the meaning of this
pleasantry.
We have already said that Mazarin was in his closet, putting his
little affairs into order. He called for D'Artagnan, but in the
midst of such tumult he little expected to see him, D'Artagnan
not being on service. In about ten minutes D'Artagnan appeared
at the door, followed by his inseparable, Porthos.
"Ah, come—come in, Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried the Car-
dinal, "and be welcome, as well as your friend. But what is going
on, then, in this cursed Paris ?"
" What is going on, my lord? nothing good," replied D'Artagnan,
shaking his head : " the town is in open revolt; and just now, as
I was crossing the Rue Montorgueil with Monsieur de Valon, who
is here, and is your humble servant, they wanted, in spite of my
uniform, or, perhaps, because of my uniform, to make us cry,
' Long live Broussel !' and must I tell you, my lord, what they
wished us to cry as wrell ?"
"Speak, speak."
" 'Down with Mazarin !' I'faith, the big word is out now."
Mazarin smiled, but became very pale.
" And you did cry ?" he asked.
" I'faith, no," said D'Artagnan, " I was not in voice; Monsieur
de Valon has a cold, apd did not cry either. Then., my lord ■"
THE RIOT,
267
" Then what ?" asked Mazarin.
" Look at my hat and cloak."
And D'Artagnan displayed four gun-shot holes in his cloak and
two in his beaver. As for Porthos' coat, a blow from a halberd
had cut it open on the flank, and a pistol-shot had cut his feather
in two.
" Diavolo !" said the Cardinal, pensively, gazing at the two
friends with lively admiration; "I should have cried, I should."
At this moment the tumult was heard nearer.
Mazarin wiped his forehead and looked around him. He had
a great desire to go to the window, but he dared not.
"See what is going on, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said he.
D'Artagnan went to the window, with his habitual composure.
" Oh, oh !" said he, " what is that ? Marechal de la Meilleraie
returning without a hat—Fontrailles with his arm in a sling—
■—wounded guards—horses bleeding—eh, then, what are the
sentinels about ? they are aiming—they are going to fire !"
" They have received orders to fire on the people, if the people
approach the Palais Royal!" exclaimed Mazarin.
"But if they fire, all is lost!" cried D'Artagnan.
"We have the gates."
" The gates ! to hold for five minutes—the gates, they will be
torn down, bent, ground to powder! God's death, don't fire !"
screamed D'Artagnan, throwing open the window.
In spite of this recommendation, which, owing to the noise,
could not have been heard, two or three musket-shots resounded,
which was succeeded by a., terrible discharge. The balls might be
heard peppering the fagade of the Palais Royal, and one of them,
passing under D'Artagnan's arm, entered and broke a mirror, in
which Porthos was complacently admiring himself.
" Alack, alack," cried the Cardinal; " a Venetian glass !"
" Oh, my lord," said D'Artagnan, quietly shutting the window,
"it is not worth while weeping yet, for probably an hour hence
there will not be one of your mirrors remaining in the Palais
Royal, whether they be Venetian or Parisian."
" But what do you advise, then ?" asked Mazarin, trembling.
" Eh, egad, to give up Broussel, as they demand ! What the
devil do you want with a member of the parliament ? He is of no
use for anything."
"And you, Monsieur de Valon, is that your advice? What
would you do ?"
"I should give up Broussel."
" Come, come with me, gentlemen !" exclaimed Mazarin, " I
268
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
will go and discuss the matter with the queen."
He stopped at the end of the corridor, and said:
" I 'can count upon you, gentlemen, can I not ?"
"We do not give ourselves twice over," said D'Artagnan; "we
have given ourselves to you—command, we shall obey."
"Very well, then," said Mazarin; "enter this closet and wait
there."
And turning off, he entered the drawing-room by another door.
CHAPTER XLVI.
the riot becomes a revolution.
The closet into which D'Artagnan and Forthos had been ushered
was separated from the drawing-room where the queen was by
tapestried .curtains only, and this thin partition enabled them to
hear all that passed in the adjoining room, while the aperture
between the two hangings, small as it was, permitted them to see.
The queen was standing in the room, pale with anger; her self-
control, however, was so great that it might ha^e been supposed
that she was calm. Comminges, Villequier, and Guitant were
behind her, and the women again were behind the men. The
Chancellor Seguier, who twenty years previously had persecuted
her so violently, was before her, relating how his carriage had been
broken, how he had been pursued, and had rushed into the
Hotel d'O , that the hotel was immediately invested, pillaged,
and devastated : happily, he had time to reach a closet hidden
behind tapestry, in which he was secreted by an old woman, to-
gether with his brother, the Bishop of Meaux. Fortunately, how-
ever, he had not been taken; the people, believing that he had
escaped by some back entrance, had retired, and left him to retreat
at liberty. Then, disguised in the clothes of the Marquis d'O
he had left the hotel, stumbling over the bodies of an officer and
those of two guards who were killed whilst defending the street
door.
During the recital Mazarin entered and glided noiselessly up to
the queen to listen.
"Well." said the queen, when the chancellor had finished
speaking; " what do you think of it all ?"
" I think that matters look very gloomy, madame,"
" But what step would you propose to me ?" "
THE RIO T BE COMES A RE VOL UT10N. 269
" I could propose one to your majesty—but I dare not."
"You may, you may, sir," said the queen, with a bitter smile;
"you were not so timid once."
The chancellor reddened, and stammered some words.
"It is not a question of the past, but of the present," said the
queen; " you said you could give me advice—what is it ?"
"Madame," said the chancellor, hesitating, "it would be to
release Broussel."
The queen, although already pale, became visibly paler, and her
face was contracted.
"Release Broussel!" she cried, " never !"
At this moment steps were heard in the ante-room, and, without
any announcement, the Marechal de la Meilleraie appeared at
the door.
" Ah, there you are, marechal," cried Anne of Austria, joyfully.
"I trust you have brought this rabble to reason."
" Madame," replied the marechal, " I have left three men on
the Pont Neuf, four at the Halle, six at the corner of the Rue de
l'Arbre-Sec, and two at the door of your palace—fifteen in all. I
have brought away ten or twelve wounded. I know not where I
have left my hat, and in all probability I should have been left
with my hat, had the Coadjutor not arrived in time to rescue me."
"Ah, indeed !" said the queen, " it would have astonished me
if that low cur, with his distorted legs, had not been mixed up
with it."
" Madame," said La Meilleraie, " do not say too much against
him before me, for the service he rendered me is still fresh."
"Very good," said the queen, "be as grateful as you like, it
does not implicate me; you are here safe and sound, that is all
I wished for, therefore you are not only welcome, but welcome
back."
" Yes, madame ; but I only came back on one condition—that
I would transmit to your majesty the will of the people."
" The will !" exclaimed the queen, frowning. " Oh ! oh ! Mon-
sieur Marechal, you must indeed have found yourself in great peril
to have undertaken so strange a commission !"
The irony with which these words were uttered did not escape
the marechal.
"Pardon, madame," he said, "I am not a lawyer, I am a mere
soldier, and probably, therefore, I do not quite comprehend the
value of certain words; I ought to have said the wishes, and net
the will, of the people. As for what you do me the honour to say,
I presume that you mean that I felt fear."
270
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
.. The queen smiled.
" Well, then, madame, yes I did feel fear; and though I have
seen twelve pitched battles, and I know not how many fights and
skirmishes, I own that, for the third time in my life, I was afraid.
Yes; and I would rather face your Majesty, however threatening
your smile, than face those hell-demons who accompanied me
hither, and who spring from I know not where."
("Bravo," said D'Artagnan, in a whisper to Porthos; ."well
answered.")
"Well," said the queen, biting her lips, whilst her courtiers looked
at each other with surprise, " what is the desire of my people ?"
" That Broussel should be given up to them, madame."
"Never!" said the queen, "never!"
" Your majesty is mistress," said La Meilleraie, retreating a few
steps.
" Where are you going, marechal ?" asked the queen.
"To give your majesty's reply to those who await it."
"Stay, marechal; I will not appear to parley with the rebels."
" Madame, I have given my word; and unless you order me to
be arrested, I shall be forced to return."
Anne of Austria's eyes shot glances of fire.
" Oh ! that is no impediment, sir," said she; " I have had greater
men than you arrested.—Guitant!"
Mazarin sprang forward.
" Madame," said he, " if I dared in my turn advise "
" Would it be to give up Broussel, sir ? If so, you can spare
yourself the trouble."
"No," said Mazarin; "although, perhaps, that is as good a
counsel as any other."
"Then what may it be?"
" To call for Monsieur le Coadjuteur."
"And hold, madame," suggested Comminges, who was near a
window, out of which he could see; " hold, the moment is a happy
one, for there he is now giving his blessing in the square of the
Palais Royal."
The queen sprang to the window.
" It is true," she said; "the arch-hypocrite !—see !"
"I see," said Mazarin, "that everybody kneels before him,
although he be but Coadjutor, whilst I—were I in his place—
though I be Cardinal, should be torn to pieces. I persist, then,
madame, in my wish" (he laid an emphasis on the word) " that your
majesty should receive the Coadjutor."
" And wherefore say you not, like the rest, your will ?" replied
the queen, in a low voice.
THE RIOT BECOMES A REVOLUTION.
Mazarin bowed.
" Monsieur le marechal," said the queen, after a moment's re-
flection, " go and find the Coadjutor, and bring him to me."
" And what shall I say to the people ?"
" That they must have patience," said Anne, " as I have."
The marechal bowed and went out; and, during his absence, Anne
of Austria approached Comminges, and conversed with him in a
subdued tone, whilst Mazarin glanced uneasily at the corner occu-
pied by D'Artagnan and Porthos. Ere long the door opened, and
the marechal entered, followed by the Coadjutor.
" There, madame," he said, " is Monsieur Gondy, who hastens to
obey your majesty's summons."
The queen advanced a few steps to meet him, and then stopped,
cold, severe, and unmoved, and her lower lip scornfully projected.
Gondy bowed respectfully.
"Well, sir," said the queen, " what is your opinion of this riot?"
"That it is no longer a riot, madame," he replied, "but a revolt."
" The revolt is in those who think that my people can revolt,"
cried Anne, unable to dissimulate before the Coadjutor, whom she
looked upon—and perhaps with reason—as the promoter of the
tumult. " Revolt ! thus is it called by those who have wished for
this demonstration, and who are, perhaps, the cause of it; but wait,
Wait! the king's authority will put it all to rights."
" Was it to tell me that, madame," coldly replied Gondy, " that
your majesty admitted me to the honour of entering your presence?"
"No, my dear .Coadjutor," said Mazarin; "it was to ask your
advice in the unhappy dilemma in which we find ourselves."
" Is it true ?" asked Gondy, feigning astonishment, " that her
majesty summoned me to ask for my opinion ?"
"Yes," said the queen, "it was requested."
The Coadjutor bowed.
" Your majesty wishes then "
"You to say what you would do in her place," Mazarin hastened
to reply.
The Coadjutor looked at the queen, who replied by a sign in the
affirmative.
"Were I in her majesty's place," said Gondy, coldly, "Ishould
not hesitate, I should release Broussel."
" Apd if I do not give him up, what think you will be the result?"
exclaimed the queen.
" I believe that not a stone in Paris will remain unturned," said
the marechal.
" It was not your opinion that I asked," said the queen, sharply,
without even turning round.
twenty years aeter.
" If it is I whom your majesty interrogates," replied the Coad-
jutor, in the same calm manner, " I reply that I hold Monsieur le
Marechal's opinion in every respect."
The colour mounted to the queen's face: her fine blue eyes
seemed to start out of her head, and her carmine lips, compared
by all the poets of the day to a pomegranate , in flower, were white,
and trembling with anger. Mazarin himself, who was well accus-
tomed to the domestic outbreaks of this disturbed household, was
alarmed.
" Give up Broussel!" she cried; "a good counsel, indeed. Upon
my word! one can easily see that it comes from a priest."
Gondy remained firm; and the abuse of the day seemed to glide
over his head as the sarcasms of the evening before had done;, but
hatred and revenge were accumulating in the depth of his heart,
silently, and drop by, drop.
" Madame," he said, " if the opinion I have submitted to you
does not please you, it is doubtless because you have better
counsels to follow. I know too well the wisdom of the queen, and
that of her adviser, to suppose that they will leave the capital long
in trouble that might lead to a revolution."
"Thus, then, it is your opinion," said Anne of Austria, with a
sneer, and biting her lips with rage, "that yesterday's riot, which,
as to-day, is already a rebellion, to morrow might become a
revolution."
" Yes, madame," replied the Coadjutor, gravely.
" But, if I believe you, sir, the people seem to have thrown off all
restraint."
"It is a bad year for kings," said Gondy, shaking his head;
"look at England, madame."
" Yes ; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in France,"
replied the queen.
" Who knows ?" said Gondy ; " these men are like thunderbolts
—one recognises them only when they have struck."
Every one shuddered; and there was a moment of silence,
during which the queen pressed her hand to her side, evidently to
still the beatings of her heart. At last she made a sign for every
one except Mazarin, to quit the room; and Gondy bowed, as if to
leave with the rest.
" Stay, sir," said Anne to him.
"Good," thought Gondy, "she is going to yield."'
(" She is going to have him killed," said D'Artagnatt to PorthoS,
" but, at all events, it shall not be by me. I swear to Heaven, OA
the contrary, that if they fall upon him, I will fall upon them."
THE RIOT BECOMES A REVOLUTION. 273
" And I too," said Porthos.
" Good," muttered Mazarin, sitting down, " we shall see some-
thing fresh."
'The queen's eyes followed the retreating figures, and, when the
last had closed the door, she turned away. It was evident that
she was making unnatural efforts to subdue her anger; she fanned
herself, smelt at her vinaigrette, and walked up and down. Gondy,
who began to feel uneasy, examined the tapestry with his eyes,
touched the coat of mail which he wore under his long gown, and
felt from time to time to see if the handle of a good Spanish
dagger, which was hidden under his cloak, was well within reach
of his hand.
"And now," at last said the queen, "now that we are alone,
repeat your counsel, Monsieur le Coadjuteur."
" It is this, madame ; that you should appear to have reflected,
and publicly acknowledge an error,—which constitutes the strength
of a strong government,—release Broussel from prison, and give
him back to the people."
" Oh !" cried Anne, " to humble myself thus ! Am I, or am I
not, the queen ? This screaming mob, are they, or are they not,
my subjects? Have I friends? Have I guards? Ah ! by Notre
Dame! as Queen Catherine used to say," continued she, excited
by her own words, " rather than give up this infamous Broussel to
them, I will strangle him with my own hands."
And she sprang towards Gondy, whom assuredly at that moment
she hated more than Broussel, with outstretched arms. The
Coadjutor remained immovable, and not a muscle of his face was
discomposed: only his glance flashed like a sword, in returning
the furious looks of the queen.
(" He were a dead man," said the Gascon, " if there were still
a Vitry at the court, and if Yitry entered at this moment: but for
my part, before he could reach the good prelate, I would kill Vitry
at once ; the Cardinal would be infinitely pleased with me."
"Hush !" said Porthos, "and listen.")
" Madame," cried the Cardinal, seizing hold of Anne, and draw-
ing her back—" madame what are you about ?"
Then he added in Spanish, "Anne, are you mad? You a queen
and quarrelling thus like a shopwoman ! And do you not perceive
that in the person of this priest is represented the whole people of
Paris, and that it is dangerous to insult him at this moment, and
that if this priest washed it, in an hour you would be without a
crown ? Come, then, on another occasion you can be firm and
18
374
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
strong; but to-day is not the proper time; to-day, you must flatter
and caress, or you will be but an ordinary person."
This rough appeal, marked by the eloquence which characterised
Mazarin when he spoke in Italian or Spanish, and which he lost
entirely in speaking French, was uttered with such impenetrable
expression that Gondy, clever physiognomist as he was, had no
suspicion of its being more than a simple warning to be more
subdued.
The queen, on her part, thus chided, softened immediately, and
sat down, and in an almost weeping voice, letting her arms fall by
her sides, said:
" Pardon me, sir, and attribute this violence to what I suffer. A
woman, and, consequently, subject to the weaknesses of my sex, I
am alarmed at the idea of civil war; a queen—and accustomed to
be obeyed—I am excited at the first opposition."
" Madame," replied Gondy, bowing, "your majesty is mistaken
in qualifying my sincere advice as opposition. Your majesty has
none but submissive and respectful subjects. It is not the queen
with whom the people are displeased; they ask for Broussel, and
are only too happy, if you release him to thefii, to live under your
government."
Mazarin, who at the/words " It is not the queen with whom
the people are displeased," had pricked up his ears, thought that
the Coadjutor was about to speak of the cries, " Down with
Mazarin !" and pleased with Gondy's suppression of this fact, he
said, with his sweetest voice, and his most gracious expression:
" Madame, believe the Coadjutor, who is one of the most able
politicians that we have; the first vacant cardinal's hat seems to
belong to his noble head."
" Ah ! how much you have need of me, cunning rogue," thought
Gondy.
" And what will he promise us ?" said D'Artagnan. " Peste, if
he is giving away hats like that, Porthos, let us look out, and each
ask a regiment to-morrow. Corbleu, let the civil war last but one
year, and I will have a constable's sword gilt for me."
" And for me ?" said Porthos.
" For you ! I will give you the baton of the Marechal de la
Meilleraie, who does not seem to be much in favour just now."
"And so, sir," said the queen, "you are seriously afraid of a
public tumult ?"
" Seriously," said Gondy, astonished at not having further ad-
vanced; " I fear that when the torrent has broken down its em-
bankment it will cause fearful destruction."
THE RIOT BECOMES A REVOLUTION.
275
" And I," said the queen, " think that in such a case new em-
bankments must be raised to oppose it. Go—I will reflect."
Gondy looked at Mazarin, astonished, and Mazarin approached
the queen to speak to her, but at this moment a frightful tumult
arose from the square of the Palais Royal.
Gondy smiled, the queen's colour rose, and Mazarin became
very pale.
" What is that again ?" he asked.
At this moment Comminges rushed into the room.
" Pardon, your majesty," he cried, " but the people have dashed
the sentinels against the gates, and they are now forcing the doors3
what are your commands—for time presses."
" How many men have you about at the Palais Royal ?"
" Six hundred men."
" Place a hundred men round the king, and with the remainder
Sweep away this mob for me."
" Madame," cried Mazarin, " what are you about?"
" Go," said the Queen.
. At this moment a terrible crash was heard. One of the gates
began to yield.
" Oh ! madame," cried Mazarin, " you have lost us all 3 the king,
yourself, and me,"
At this cry from the soul of the frightened Cardinal, Anne be-
came alarmed in her turn, and would have recalled Comminges.
" Tt is too late !" said Mazarin, tearing his hair, " too late !"
The gate had given way, and shouts were heard from the mob.
D'Artagnan put his hand to his sword, motioning to Porthos to
follow his example.
" Save the queen !" cried Mazarin to the Coadjutor.
Gondy sprang to the window and threw it open3 he recognised
Louvieres at the head of a troop of about three or four thousand
men.
" Not a step further," he shouted, " the queen is signing !"
" What are you saying ?" asked the queen.
" The truth, madame," said Mazarin, placing a pen and a paper
before her; " you must 3" then he added, " Sign, Anne, I implore
you—I command you."
The queen fell into a chair, took the pen and signed.
The people, kept back by Louvieres, had not made another
step forward; but the awful murmuring, which indicates an angry
people, continued.
The queen had written, "The keeper of the prison of St,
18—2
276
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Germain will put Counsellor Broussel at libertyand she had
signed'it.
The Coadjutor, whose eyes devoured her slightest movements,
seized the paper immediately the signature had been affixed to it,
returned to the window, and waved it in his hand.
" This is the order," he said.
All Paris seemed to shout with joy; and then the air resounded
with the cries of " Long live Broussel!" " Long live the. Coad-
jutor !"
" Long live the queen !" cried De Gondy: but the cries which
replied to his were poor and few; and perhaps he had but uttered
it to make Anne of Austria sensible of her weakness.
"And now that you have obtained what you want, go," said
she, " Monsieur de Gondy."
"Whenever her majesty has need of me," replied the Coad-
jutor, bowing, "her majesty knows that I am at her command."
" Ah, cursed priest!" cried Anne, when he had retired,
stretching out her arm to the scarcely closed door, " one day -I
will make you drink the remains of the gall which you have
poured out on me to-day."
Mazarin wished to approach her. " Leave me !" she exclaimed;
" you are not a man !" and she went out of the room.
" It is you who are not a woman," muttered Mazarin.
Then, after a moment of reverie, he remembered where he had
left D'Artagnan and Porthos, and that they must have overheard
everything. He knit his brows, and went direct to the tapestry,
which he pushed aside. The closet was empty.
At the queen's last word, D'Artagnan had dragged Porthos into
the gallery. Thither Mazarin went in his turn, and found the two
friends walking up and down.
" Why did you leave the closet, Monsieur d'Artagnanasked
the Cardinal.
"Because," replied D'Artagnan, "the queen desired every one
to leave, and I thought that this command was intended for us as
well as for the rest."
" And you have been here since "
"About a quarter of an hour," said D'Artagnan, motioning to
Porthos not to contradict him.
Mazarin saw the sign, and remained convinced that D'Artagnan
had seen and heard everything; but he was pleased with his
falsehood.
" Decidedly, Monsieur d'Artagnan, you axe the man I have been
seeking—and you may reckon upon me, as may your friend, too,"
MISFORTUNE REFRESHES THE MEMORY. S77
Then, bowing to the two friends, with his most gracious smile,
he re-entered his closet more calmly, for on the departure of De
Gondy, the uproar had ceased as if by enchantment.
CHAPTER XLVII.
misfortune refreshes the memory.
Anne of Austria returned to her oratory furious.
" What!" she cried, wringing her beautiful hands, " what! the
people have seen Monsieur de Conde, a prince of the blood royal,
4arrested by my mother-in-law, Maria de Medicis; they saw my
mother-in-law, their former regent, expelled by the Cardinal; they
saw Monsieur de Yendome, that is to say, the son of Henry IV.,
a prisoner at Vincennes; and whilst these great personages were
imprisoned, insulted, and threatened, they said nothing; and now
for a Broussel—good God—what then is become of royalty !"
The queen unconsciously touched here upon the exciting ques-
tion. The people had made no demonstration for the princes,
but they had risen for Broussel: they were taking the part of a
plebeian, and in defending Broussel, they instinctively felt that
they were defending themselves.
During this time Mazarin walked up and down his study, glanc-
ing from time to time at his beautiful Venetian mirror, starred all
over. " Ah !" he said, " it is sad, I know well, to be forced to
yield thus ; but—pshaw—we shall have our revenge ; what matters,
it about Broussel—it is a name, not a thing."
Mazarin, clever politician as he was, was for once mistaken;
Broussel was a thing, not a name.
The next morning, therefore, when Broussel made his entrance
into Paris in a large carriage, having his son Louvieres at his side,
and Friquet behind the vehicle, the people threw themselves in
his way, and cries of " Long live Broussel!" " Long live our
father !" resounded from all parts, and was death to Mazarin's
ears; and the Cardinal's spies brought bad news from every direc-
tion, which greatly agitated the minister, but were calmly received
by the queen. The latter seemed to. be maturing in her mind
some great stroke—a fact which increased the uneasiness of the
Cardinal, who knew the. proud princess, and who dreaded much
the determination of Anne of Austria.
The Coadjutor returned to parliament more a monarch than the
Twenty years aeter.
King, Queen, and Cardinal were, all three together. By his advice,
a decree from parliament had summoned the citizens to lay down
their arms, and to demolish the barricades. They now knew that
it required but one hour to take up arms again, and only one
night to reconstruct the barricades.
D'Artagnan profited by a moment of calm to send away Raoul,
whom he had had great difficulty in keeping shut up during the
riot, and who wished positively to strike a blow for one party or
the other. Raoul had offered some opposition at first; but D'Ar-
tagnan made use of Count de la Fere's name, and, after paying a
visit to Madame de Chevreuse, Raoul started to rejoin the army.
Rochefort alone was dissatisfied with the termination of affairs.
He had written to the Due de Beaufort to come, and the duke
was about to arrive, and he would find Paris tranquil. He went
to the Coadjutor to consult with him whether it were not better
to send word to the duke to stop on the road, but Gondy reflected
for a moment, and then said :
"Let him continue his journey."
" But all is not then over ?" asked Rochefort.
" Good, my dear count; we have only just begun."
" What induces you to think so ?"
" The knowledge that I have of the queen's heart; she will not
rest beaten."
" Come, let us see what you know."
" I know that she has written to the prince to return in haste
from the army."
" Ah! ah!" said Rochefort, " you are right. We must let
Monsieur de Beaufort come."
In fact, the evening after this conversation, the report was cm
culated that the Prince Conde had arrived. It was a very simple
and natural circumstance, and yet it created a great sensation. It
was said that Madame de Longueville, for whom the prince had
more than a brother's affection, and in whom he had confided, had
been indiscreet. His confidence had unveiled the sinister projects
of the queen.
Even on the night of the prince's return, some citizens, more
bold than the rest, such as the sheriffs, the captains, and the quarter-
master, went from house to house among their friends, saying:
" Why do we not take the king, and place him in the Hotel de
Ville ? It is a shame to leave him to be educated by our enemies,
who will give him evil counsels; whereas, brought up by the *
Coadjutor, for instance, he would imbibe national principles, and
love his people."
misfortune refreshes the memory. 279
That night was secretly agitated, and on the morrow the grey
and black cloaks, the patrols of armed shop-people, and the
bands of mendicants had re-appeared.
The queen had passed the night in conference alone with the
prince, who had entered her oratory at midnight, and did not leave
i'ill five o'clock in the morning.
At five o'clock Anne went to the Cardinal's room. If she had
not yet taken any repose, he at least was already up. Six days
had already passed out of the ten he had asked from Mordaunt;
he'was therefore occupied in correcting his reply to Cromwell,
when some One knocked gently at the door of communication
with the queen's apartments. Anne of Austria alone was per-
mitted to enter by that door. The Cardinal therefore rose to
open it.
The queen was in a morning gown, but it became her still; for,
like Diana of Poictiers and Ninon, Anne of Austria enjoyed the
privilege of remaining ever beautiful; nevertheless, this morning
she looked handsomer than usual, for her eyes had all the sparkle
which inward satisfaction added to their expression.
"What is the matter, madame?" said Mazarin uneasily. "You
have quite a proud look."
" Yes, Giulio," she said, " proud and happy; for I have found
the means of stifling this hydra."
"You are a great politician, my queen," said Mazarin ; "let us
see the means." And he hid what he had written by sliding the
letter under a sheet of white paper.
" You know," said the queen, " that they want to take the king
away from me."
" Alas ! yes, and to hang me !"
" They shall not have the king."
"Nor hang me."
" Listen. I want to carry off my son from them—with yourself
and myself. I wish that this event, which, on the day it is known,
will completely, change the aspect of affairs, should be accom-
plished without the knowledge of any others but yourself, myself,
and a third person."
" And who is this third person ?"
" Monsieur le Prince."
" And you have seen him ?"
" He has just left me."
" And will he aid this project ?"
" The plan is his own."
«' And Paris ?"
28(3
TWENTY YEARS APTER.
" He will starve it out and force it to surrender at discretion."
" The plan is wanting not in grandeur, but I only see one im-
pediment to it"
"What is it?"
" Impossibility."
" A senseless word ; nothing is impossible. Have we money ?"
"A little," said Mazarin, trembling lest Anne should ask to
draw upon his purse.
" Have we troops ?"
"Five or six thousand men."
" Have we courage ?"
"Much."
" Then the thing is easy. Oh ! do think of it, Giulio ! Paris,
this odious Paris, awaking one morning without queen or king,
surrounded, besieged, famished—having, as an only resource, its
stupid parliament, and their Coadjutor, with crooked limbs !"
" Charming ! charming T said Mazarin. " I see the effect, but
I do not see the way to obtain it."
" I will find it out myself."
" You are aware that it will be war—civil war—furious, burning,
and implacable ?"
"Oh ! yes, yes. War," said Anne of Austria. "Yes, I will
reduce this rebellious city to ashes. I will extinguish the fire by
blood ! I will perpetuate the crime and the punishment by making
a frightful example. Paris !—I hate it !—I detest it!"
"Very fine, Anne. You are now sanguinary; but take care.
We are not in the time of the Malattesta and the Castrucio Cas-
tracani. You will get yourself decapitated, my ^beautiful queen,
and that would be a pity."
"You laugh."
"Faintly. It is dangerous to go to war with a whole nation
Look at your brother monarch, Charles I. He is badly off—very
badly."
"We are in France, and I am Spanish."
" So much the worse; I would much rather you were French,
and myself also—they would hate us both less."
" Nevertheless, you consent?"
" Yes, if the thing be possible."
" It is; it is I who tell you so; make your preparations for de*
parture."
" I ! I am always prepared to go, only you know I never do go
and, perhaps, shall do so this time as little as before."
" In short, if I go, will you go too ?"
Misfortune refreshes the memory. 281
"I shall try."
" You torment me, Giulio, with your fears; and what are you
afraid of, then ?"
" Of many things."
" What are they ?"
Mazarin's face, smiling as it was, became clouded.
" Anne," said he, " you are but a woman, and as a woman you
may insult men at your ease, knowing that you can do it with im-
punity; you accuse me of fear; I have not so much as you have,
since I do not fly as you do. Against whom do they cry out ? is
it against you, or against myself? Whom would they hang—
yourself or me ? Well, I can weather the storm;—I—whom, not-
withstanding, you tax with fear—not with bravado, that is not my
way, but I am firm. Imitate me; make less noise, and do more.
You cry very loud, you end by doing nothing; you talk of
flying
Mazarin shrugged his shoulders, and taking the queen's hand,
led her to the window.
" Look !" he said.
" Well ?" said the queen, blinded by her obstinacy.
" Well, what do you see from this window ? If I am not mis-
taken, those are citizens, helmeted and mailed, armed with good
muskets, as in the time of the League, and whose eyes are so
intently fixed on this window, that they will see you if you raise
that curtain much; and now come to the other side—what do
you see ? Creatures of the people, armed with the halberds,
guarding your doors. You will see the same at every opening
from this palace to which I should lead you. Your doors are
guarded, the air-holes of your cellars are guarded, and I could say
to you, as that good La Ramee said to me of the Due de Beau-
fort, you must be either bird or mouse to get out."
" He did get out, however."
" Do you think of escaping in the same way ?"
"lama prisoner, then ?"
" Parbleu /" said Mazarin, I have been proving it to you this
last hour."
And he quietly resumed his despatch at the place where he had
been interrupted.
Anne, trembling with anger, and red with humiliation, left the
room shutting the door violently after her. Mazarin did not even
"turn round. When once more in her own apartment, Anne fell,
into a chair and wept; then, suddenly struck with an idea:
" I am saved !" she exclaimed, rising; " oh, yes ! yes ! I know
ZS2
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
a man who will find the iheans of taking me from Paris; a man
whom I have too long forgotten." Then, falling into a reverie, she
added, however, with an expression of joy, "Ungrateful woman that
I am, for twenty years I have forgotten this man, whom I ought to
have made marechal of France. My mother-in-law expended gold,
caresses, and dignities on Concini, who ruined her; the king made
Vitry marechal of France for an assassination; while I have left in
obscurity, in poverty, that noble D'Artagnan, who saved me!"
And running to a table, upon which were placed paper and ink,
she began to write.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
the interview.
It had been D'Artagnan's practice, ever since the riots, to sleep in
the same room as Porthos, and on this eventful morning he was
still there, sleeping, and dreaming that a large yellow cloud had
overspread the sky, and was raining gold pieces into his hat, whilst
he held it under a spout. As for Porthos, he dreamed that the
panels of his carriage were not spacious enough to contain the
armorial bearings which he had ordered to be painted upon them.
They were both aroused at seven o'clock by the entrance of an un-
liveried servant,: who had brought a letter to D'Artagnan. ,
" From whom is it ?" asked the Gascon.
" From the queen," replied the servant.
" Ho !" said Porthos, raising himself in his bed, " what does she
say ?"
D'Artagnan requested the servant to wait in the next room, and
when the door was closed, he sprang up from his bed, and read
rapidly, whilst Porthos looked at him with starting eyes, not daring
to ask a single question.
" Friend Porthos," said D'Artagnan, handing the letter to him,
" this time, at least, you are sure of your title of baron, and. I of my
captaincy. There, read and judge."
Porthos took the letter, and with a trembling voice read the fol-
lowing words:
"-The queen wishes to speak to Monsieur d'Artagnan, who must
follow the bearer."
" Well!" exclaimed Porthos, " I see nothing in that very extra-
ordinary."
THE INTERVIEW.
283
" But I see much that is extraordinary in it," replied D'Artagnan.
" It is evident, by their sending for me, that matters are becoming
complicated. Just reflect a little what an agitation the queen's
mind must be in, for her to have femembered me after twenty
years."
" It is true," said Porthos.
" Sharpen your sword, baron, load your pistols, and give some
corn to the horses, for I will answer for it, something new will
happen before to-morrow."
" But stop; do you think it can be a trap that they are laying
for us ?" suggested Porthos, incessantly thinking how his greatness
must be irksome to other people.
" If it is a snare," replied D'Artagnan, " I shall scent it out, be
assured. If Mazarin be an Italian, I am a Gascon."
And D'Artagnan dressed himself in an instant.
Whilst Porthos, still in bed, was hooking on his cloak for him, a
second knock at the door was heard.
" Come in," cried D'Artagnan; and another servant entered.
" From his Eminence, Cardinal Mazarin," he said, presenting a
letter.
D'Artagnan glanced at Porthos, and said :
" It is arranged capitally; his Eminence expects me in half an
hour."
"Good."
" My friend," said D'Artagnan, turning to the servant, " tell his
Eminence that in half an hour I shall be at his command."
" It is very fortunate," resumed the Gascon, when the valet had
retired, " that he did not meet the other one."
"Do you not think that they have sent for you, both for the
same thing ?"
"I do not think it, I am certain of it."
" Quick, quick, D'Artagnan. Remember that the queen awaits
you; and after the queen, the Cardinal; and after the Cardinal,
myself."
D'Artagnan summoned Anne of Austria's servant, and answered
that he was ready to follow him.
The servant conducted him by the Rue des Petits-Champs, and
turning to the left, entered the little garden gate leading into the
Rue Richelieu; then they gained the private staircase, and
D'Artagnan was ushered into the oratory. A certain emotion, for
which he could not account, made the lieutenant's heart beat: he
had no longer the assurance of youth, and experience taught him
all the importance of past events. Formerly, he would have
284
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
approached the queen, as a young man, who bends before a
woman; but now it was a different thing: he answered her sum-
mons as an humble soldier obeys an illustrious general.
The silence of the oratory was at last disturbed by a slight
rustling sound, and D'Artagnan started when he perceived'the tapestry
raised by a white hand, which, by its form, its colour, and its
beauty, he recognised as that royal hand, whioh had one day been
presented to him to kiss. The queen entered.
" It is you, Monsieur d'Artagnan," she said, fixing a gaze full
of melancholy interest on the countenance of the officer, " and I
know you well. Look at me well in your turn. I am the queen;
do you recognise me ?"
" No, madame," replied D'Artagnan..
" But are you no longer aware," continued Anne, giving that
sweet expression to her voice which she could do at will, " that in
former days the queen had once need of a young, brave, and de-
voted cavalier; that she found this cavalier; and that although
he might have thought that she had forgotten him, she had kept a
place for him in the depths of her heart."
"No, madame, I was ignorant of that," said the Musketeer.
" So much the worse, sir," said Anne of Austria; " so much the
worse, at least for the queen; for to-day she has need of the same
courage, and of that same devotion."
" What !" exclaimed D'Artagnan, " does the queen, surrounded
as she is by such devoted servants, such wise counsellors, men, in
short, so great by their merit or their position—does she deign to
cast her eyes on an obscure soldier?"
Anne understood this covert reproach, and was more moved
than irritated by it. She had many a time felt humiliated by the
self-sacrifice and disinterestedness shown by the Gascon gentleman,
and she had allowed herself to be exceeded in generosity.
"All that you tell me of those by whom I am surrounded,
Monsieur d'Artagnan, is doubtless true," said the queen, " but I
have confidence in you alone. I know that you belong to the
Cardinal—but belong to me as well—and I will take upon myself
the making of your fortune. Come, will you do to-day what
formerly the gentleman whom you do not know did for the
queen ?"
" I will do everything which your majesty commands," replied
D'Artagnan.
The queen reflected for a moment, and then, seeing the
cautious demeanour of the Musketeer,—
" Perhaps you like repose ?" she said.
THE INTERVIEW.
285
" I do not know, for I have never had it, madame,"
" Have you any friends ?"
" I had three, two of whom have left Paris, to go I know not
where. One alone is left to me, but he is one of those known, I
believe, to the cavalier, of whom your majesty did me the honour
to speak to me."
"Very good," said the queen, " you arid your friend are worth an
army."
" What am I to do, madame ?"
" Return at five o'clock, and I will tell you: but do not
breathe to a living soul, sir, the rendezvous which I give you."
"No, madame."
" Swear it by Christ."
" Madame, I have never been false to my word—when I say no,
it means no."
The queen, although astonished at this language, to which she
was not accustomed from her courtiers, argued from it a happy
omen of the zeal with which D'Artagnan would serve her in the
accomplishment of her project. It was one of the Gascon's arti-
fices to hide his deep cunning occasionally under an appearance
of rough loyalty.
"Has the queen any further commands for me now?" asked
D'Artagnan.
"No, sir," replied Anne of Austria, "and you may retire until
the time that I mentioned to you."
D'Artagnan bowed and went out.
" Diable !" he exclaimed, when the door was shut, " they seem
to have great need of me here."
Then, as the half hour had already glided by, he crossed the
gallery, and knocked at the Cardinal's door.
" I come for your commands, my lord," he said.
And according to his Custom, D'Artagnan glanced rapidly round
him, and remarked that Mazarin had a sealed letter before him.
" You come from the queen ?" said Mazarin, looking fixedly at
D'Artagnan.
" I! my lord, who told you that ?"
" Nobody, but I know it."
" I regret, infinitely, to tell you, my lord, that you are mistaken,"
replied the Gascon impudently, firm to the promise he had just
made to Anne of Austria.
" I opened the door of the anteroom myself, and I saw you
enter at the end of the corridor."
* "Because I was shown up the private stairs."
s86
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
" How so ?"
" I know not, it must have been a mistake."
Mazarin was aware that it was not easy to make D'Artagnan
reveal anything which he was desirous of hiding, so he therefore
gave up, for the time, the discovery of the mystery which the
Gascon made.
"Let us speak of my affairs," said Mazarin, " since you will tell
me nought of yours. Are you fond of travelling ?"
"My life has been passed on the high roads."
" Would anything retain you particularly in Paris ?"
" Nothing but an order from a superior would retain me in
Paris."
"Very well. Here is a letter which must be taken to its
address."
"To its address, my lord? But it has none."
" I regret to say," resumed Mazarin, " that it is in a double
envelope." ,
" I understand; and I am only to take off the first one when I
have reached a certain place?"
"Just so—take it and go. You have a friend, Monsieur de
Valon, whom I like much; let him accompany you."
" TJae devil !'s said D'Artagnan to himself. "He knows that we
overheard his conversation yesterday, and he wants to get us away
from Paris."
" Do you hesitate ?" asked Mazarin.
"No, my lord, and I will set out at once. There is one thing
only which I must request."
"What is it ? speak."
" That your Eminence will at once go to the queen."
" What for ?"
" Merely to say these words : ' I am going to send Monsieur
d'Artagnan away, andT wish him to set out directly.'"
" I told you," said Mazarin, "that you had seen the queen."
" I had the honour of saying to your Eminence that there had
been some mistake."
"Very well; I will go. Wait here for me." And looking at-
tentively around him, to see if he had forgotten any keys in his
closets, Mazarin went out. Ten minutes elapsed ere he returned,
pale, and evidently thoughtful. He seated himself at his desk,
and D'Artagnan proceeded to examine his face, as he had just
examined the letter he held; but the envelope which covered his
countenance was almost as impenetrable as that which covered the
letter.
THE INTERVIEW.
287
" Eh ! eh !" thought the Gascon ; " he looks displeased. Can
it be with me ? He meditates. Is it about sending me to the
Bastille ? All very fine, my lord; but at the very first hint you
give of such a thing, ' I will strangle you, and become Frondist.'
I should be carried in triumph like Monsieur Broussel, and Athos
would proclaim me the French Brutus. It would be droll."
The Gascon, with his vivid imagination, had already seen the
advantage to be derived from his situation; Mazarin gave, how-
. ever, no order of the kind, but, on the contrary, began to be in-
sinuating.
" You were right," he said, " my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, and
you cannot set out yet. I beg you to return me that despatch."
D'Artagnan obeyed, and Mazarin ascertained that the seal was
intact.
" I shall want you this evening," he said. " Return in two
hours."
" My lord," said D'Artagnan, " I have an appointment in two
hours, which I cannot miss."
" Do not be uneasy," said Mazarin; " it is the same."
"Good !" thought D'Artagnan ; "I fancied it was so."
" Return then at five o'clock, and bring that worthy Monsieur
de Valon with you. Only, leave him in the anteroom, as I wish
to speak to you alone."
D'Artagnan bowed, and thought—" Both at the same hour;
both commands alike—both at the Palais Royal. I guess. Ah !
Monsieur de Gondy would pay a hundred thousand francs for such
a secret!"
"You are thoughtful," said Mazarin uneasily.
"Yes; I was thinking whether we ought to come armed or
not."
" Armed to the teeth !" replied Mazarin.
"Very well, my lord, it shall be so."
CHAPTER XLIX.
the flight.
When D'Artagnan returned to the Palais Royal at five o'clock,
it presented, in spite of the excitement which reigned in the
town, a spectacle of the greatest rejoicing. Nor was that sur-
prising. The queen had restored Broussel and Blancmesnil to
288
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
the people, and had therefore nothing to fear, since the people
had nothing more to ask for. The return also of the conqueror
of Lens was the pretext for giving a grand banquet. The princes
and princesses were invited, and their carriages had crowded the
court since noon; then after dinner the queen was to form her
poole of quadrille. Anne of Austria had never appeared more
brilliant than on that day—radiant with grace and wit. Mazarin
disappeared as they rose from table. He found D'Artagnan waiting
for him already at his post in the anteroom. The Cardinal ad-
vanced to him with a smile, and taking him by the hand, led him
into his study.
" My dear Monson d'Artagnan," said the minister, sitting down,
" I am about to give you the greatest proof of confidence that a
minister can give to an officer."
" I hope," said D'Artagnan bowing, " that you give it, my lord,
without hesitation, and with the conviction that I am worthy of
it."
"More worthy than every one, my dear friend; therefore I
apply to you. You are about to leave this evening," continued
Mazarin. " My dear Monson d'Artagnan, the welfare of the state
is reposed in your hand." He paused.
" Explain yourself, my lord ; I am listening."
" The queen has resolved to make a little excursion with the
king to St. Germain."
" Ah ! ah !" said D'Artagnan, " that is to say, the queen wishes
to leave Paris."
"A woman's caprice—you understand."
" Yes, I understand perfectly," said D'Artagnan.
" It was for this that she summoned you this morning, and that
she told you to return at five o'clock."
" Was it worth while to wish me to swear this morning that I
would mention the appointment to no one ?" muttered D'Ar-
tagnan. " Oh, women ! women ! whether queens or not, they are
always the same."
" Do you disapprove of this journey, my dear Monson d'Ar-
tagnan ?" asked Mazarin, anxiously.
" I, my lord ?" said D'Artagnan; " and why ?"
" Because you shrug your shoulders."
"It is a way I have of speaking to myself. I neither approve
, nor disapprove, my lord; I merely await your commands."
" Good; it is you, therefore, that I have pitched upon to conduct
the king and the queen to St. Germain."
" Liar !" said D'Artagnan to himself.
THE FLIGHT.
28 9
" You see, therefore," continued Mazarin, perceiving D'Ar-
tagnan's composure, " that, as 1 have told you, the welfare of the
state is placed in your hands."
"Yes, my lord, and I feel the whole responsibility of such a
charge."
" Do you think the thing possible ?"
" Everything is."
" Shall you be attacked on the road ?"
" Probably."
" And what would you do in that case ?"
" I shall pass through those who attack me."
" And suppose you cannot pass through them ?"
" So much the worse for them. I must pass over them."
" And you will place the king and queen safe also and at St.
Germain ?"
"Yes."
" On your life. * *
" On my life."
"You are a hero, my friend," said Mazarin, gazing at the
Musketeer with admiration.
D'Artagnan smiled.
" And I ?" asked Mazarm, after a moment's silence.
" How ?—and you, my lord ?"
"If I wish to leave?"
"That would be more difficult."
"Why so?"
"Your Eminence might be recognised."
" Even under this disguise ?" asked Mazarin, raising a cloak
which covered an arm-chair, upon which lay a complete dress
for an officer, of pearl-grey and red, entirely embroidered with
silver.
" If your Eminence is disguised, it will be more easy."
"Ah !" said Mazarin, breathing more freely.
" But it will be necessary for your Eminence to do what the
other day you declared you should have done in our place—cry,
' Down with Mazarin !'"
"I will cry it."
" In French—in good French., my lord—take care of your
accent; they killed six thousand Angerines in Sicily, because they
pronounced Italian badly. Take care that the French do not take
their revenge on you for the Sicilian vespers."
" I will do my best."
" The streets are full of armed men," continued D'Artagnan,
290
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Are you sure that no one is aware of the queen's project ?"
Mazarin reflected.
" This affair would give a fine opportunity for a traitor, my
lord; the chance of being attacked would be an excuse for
everything."
Mazarin shuddered; but he reflected that a man who had an
intention to betray would not warn first.
" And, therefore," added he quietly, " I have not confidence in
every one] the proof of which is, that I have fixed upon you to
escort me."
" Shall you not go with the queen ?"
" No," replied Mazarin.
" Then you will start after the queen ?"
"No," said Mazarin again.
" Ah !" said D'Artagnan, who began to understand.
" Yes," continued the Cardinal. " I have my plan :—with the
queen, I double her risk,—after the queen, her departure would
double mine—then, the court once safe, I might be forgotten]
the great are often ungrateful."
" Very true," said D'Artagnan, fixing his eyes, in spite of him-
self, on the queen's diamond, which Mazarin wore on his finger.
Mazarin followed the direction of his eyes, and gently turned the
hoop of the ring inside.
" I wish," he said, with his cunning smile, " to prevent them
from being ungrateful to me."
" It is but Christian charity," replied D'Artagnan, " not to lead
one's neighbours into temptation."
" It is exactly for that reason," said Mazarin, " that I wish to
start before them."
D'Artagnan smiled—he was quite the man to understand the
astute Italian. Mazarin saw the smile, and profited by the moment.
" You will begin, therefore, by taking me first out of Paris, will
you not, my dear Monson D'Artagnan ?"
"A difficult commission, my lord," replied d'Artagnan, re-
suming his serious manner.
" But," said Mazarin, " you did not make so many difficulties
with regard to the king and queen."
" The king and the queen are my king and queen, my lord,"
replied the Musketeer, " my life is theirs, and I ought to give it
for them. They ask it; and I have nothing to say."
" That is true," murmured Mazarin, in a low tone, " but as thy
life is not mine, I suppose I must buy it, must I not ?" and sighing
deeply, he began to turn the hoop of his ring outside again.
THE FLIGHT.
291
D'Artagnan smiled. These two men met at one point, and that
was, cunning; had they been actuated alike by courage, the one
would have done great things for the other.
" But also," said Mazarin, " you must understand that if I ask
this service from you it is with the intention of, being grateful."
" Is it still only in intention, my lord ?" asked D'Artagnan.
" Stay," said Mazarin, drawing the ring from his finger, " my
dear Monson d'Artagnan,—here is a diamond which belonged to
you formerly, it is but just that it should return to you—take it, I
pray."
D'Artagnan spared Mazarin the trouble of insisting, and after
looking to see if the stone were the same, and assuring himself of
the purity of its water, he took it, and passed it on to his finger
with indescribable pleasure.
" I valued it much," said Mazarin, giving a last look at it;
" nevertheless I give it to you with great pleasure."
"And I, my lord," said D'Artagnan, "accept it as it is given.
Come, let us speak of your little affairs. You wish to leave before
everybody, and at what hour ?"
"At ten o'clock."
" And the queen, at what time does she wish to start ?"
" At midnight."
" Then it is possible. I can get you out of Paris and leave you
beyond the ' barriere,' and can return for her."
" Capital, but how will you get me out of Paris ?"
" Oh ! as to that, you must leave it to me."
" I give you full power, therefore take as large an escort as you
like."
D'Artagnan shook his head.
" It seems to me, however," said Mazarin, " the safest method."
" Yes, for you, my lord, but not for the queen; you must leave
it to me, and give me the entire direction of the undertaking."
" Nevertheless "
" Or find some one else," continued D'Artagnan, turning his
back.
" Oh !" muttered Mazarin; " I do believe he is going off with
the diamond !"
" Monson d'Artagnan, my dear Monson d'Artagnan," he called
out in a coaxing voice, " will you answer for everything ?"
" I will answer for nothing, I will do my best."
" Well, then, let us go, I must trust to you."
" It is very fortunate," said D'Artagnan to himself.
f£ You will be here at half-past nine ?"
19—2
292
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" And I shall find your Eminence ready ?"
"Certainly, quite ready."
" Well, then, it is a settled thing; and now, my lord, will you
Obtain for me an audience of the queen ?"
"For what purpose?"
" I wish to receive her majesty's commands from her own lips."
" She desired me to give them to you."
" She may have forgotten something."
"You really wish to see her !"
" It is indispensable, my lord."
Mazarin hesitated for one instant, whilst D'Artagnan remained
firm.
" Come, then," said the minister; " I will conduct you to her
—but, remember, not one word of our conversation."
" What has passed between us concerns us alone, my lord,"
replied D'Artagnan.
" Swear to be mute."
" I never swear, my lord, I say yes or no ; and, as I am a gen-
tleman, I keep my word."
" Come, then, I see that I must trust unreservedly to you."
" Believe me, my lord, it will be your best plan."
" Come," said Mazarin, conducting D'Artagnan into the queen's
oratory, and desiring him to wait there. He did not wait long,
for in five minutes the queen entered in full gala costume. Thus
dressed, she scarcely appeared thirty-five years of age, and was
still handsome.
" It is you, Monsieur d'Artagnan," she said, smiling graciously,
" I thank you for having insisted on seeing me."
" I ought to ask your majesty's pardon; but I wished to receive
your commands from your own mouth."
" Will you accept the commission which I have entrusted to
you ?"
"With gratitude."
"Very well, be here at midnight."
" I will not fail."
" Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued the queen, " I know your
disinterestedness too well to speak of my gratitude at this moment;
but I swear to you that I shall not forget this second service as I
forgot the first."
" Your majesty is free to forget or to remember as it pleases you;
and I know not what you mean," said D'Artagnan, bowing.
" Go, sir," said the queen, with her most bewitching smile, "go
and return at midnight."
'THE FLIGHT.
m
And D'Artagnan retired, but as he passed out he glanced at the
fcurtain through which the queen had entered, and at the bottom
of the tapestry he remarked the tip of a velvet slipper.
" Good," thought he; " Mazarin has been listening to discover
whether I had betrayed him. In truth, that Italian puppet does
not deserve the services of an honest man."
D'Artagnan was not less exact to his appointment, and at half-
past nine o'clock he entered the anterooml
He found the Cardinal dressed as an officer, and he looked
very well in that costume, which, as we have already said, he wore
elegantly—only he was very pale, and trembled a little.
" Quite alone ?" he asked.
" Yes, my lord."
"And that worthy Monsieur de Valon, are we to enjoy his
society ?"
" Certainly, my lord, he is waiting in his carriage at the gate of
the garden of the Palais Royal."
" And we start in his carriage then."
"Yes, my lord."
"And with us no other escort but you two ?"
" Is it not enough ? One of us would suffice."
"Really, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the Cardinal,
"your coolness startles me."
" I should have thought, on the contrary, that it ought to have
inspired you with confidence."
" And Bernouin, do I not take him with me ?"
" There is no room for him; he will rejoin your Eminence."
" Let us go," said Mazarin, "since everything must be ready—
do you wish it ?"
" My lord, there is time to draw back," said D'Artagnan, " and
your Eminence is perfectly free."
" Not at all, not at all," said Mazarin ; "let uS be off."
And they both descended the private stair, Mazarin leaning' on
the arm of D'Artagnan, an arm which the Musketeer felt trembling
upon his own. At last, after crossing the courts of the Palais
Royal, where there still remained some of the conveyances of
late guests, they entered the garden and reached the little gate.
Mazarin attempted to open it by a key which he took from his
pocket, but his hand trembled so much that he could not find the
keyhole.
" Give it to me," said D'Artagnan, who, when the gate was
opened, deposited the key in his pocket, reckoning upon returning
by that means.
294
.TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
The stej3S were already down, and the door open. Mousqueton
held open the door, and Porthos was inside the carriage.
" Mount, my lord," said D'Artagnan to Mazarin, who sprang
into the carriage without waiting for a second bidding. D'Ar-
tagnan followed him; and Mousqueton, having closed the door,
mounted behind the carriage with many groans. He had made
some difficulties about going, under pretext that he still suffered
from his wound, but D'Artagnan had said to him :
" Remain if you like, my dear Monsieur Mouston, but I warn
you that Paris will be burnt down to-nightupon which Mous-
queton had declared, without asking anything further, that he
was ready to follow his master and Monsieur D'Artagnan to the
end of the world.
The carriage started at a measured pace, without betraying in
the least that it contained people in a hurry. The Cardinal wiped
his forehead with his handkerchief, and looked around him. On
his left was Porthos, whilst D'Artagnan was on his right; each
guarded a door, and served as a rampart to him on either side.
Before him, on the front seat, lay two pairs of pistols—one
before Porthos, and the other before D'Artagnan. About a
hundred paces from the -Palais Royal a patrol stopped the
carriage.
" Who goes ?" asked the captain.
" Mazarin!" replied D'Artagnan, bursting into a laugh. The
Cardinal's hair stood on end. But the joke appeared excellent to
the citizens, who, seeing the conveyance without escort and un-
armed, would never have believed in the reality of so great an
imprudence.
" A good journey to ye !" they cried, allowing it to pass.
" Hem !" said D'Artagnan, " what does my lord think of that
reply ?"
" Man of talent !" cried Mazarin.
" In truth," said Porthos, " I understand; but now "
About the middle of the Rue des Petits-Champs they were
stopped by a second patrol.
" Who goes there ?" inquired the captain of the patrol.
" Keep back, my lord," said D'Artagnan. And Mazarin buried
himself so far behind the two friends that he disappeared, com-
pletely hidden between them.
" Who goes there ?" cried the same voice, impatiently, whilst
D'Artagnan perceived that they had rushed to the horses' heads.
But, putting his head half out of the carriage,—
" Eh ! Planchet," said he.
THE FLIGHT.
The chief approached, and it was indeed Planchet; D'Ar-
tagnan had recognised the voice of his old servant.
" How, sir !" said Planchet, "is it you ?"
" Eh ! mon Dieu ! yes, my good friend, this worthy Porthos
has just received a sword wound, and I am taking him to his
country house at St Cloud."
" Oh ! really," said Planchet.
" Porthos," said D'Artagnan, " if you can still speak, say a word,
my dear Porthos, to this good Planchet."
" Planchet, my friend," said Porthos, in a melancholy voice, " I
am very ill; should you meet a doctor, you will do me a favour
by sending him to me."
" Oh ! good Heaven," said Planchet, " what a misfortune; and
how did it happen ?"
" I will tell you all about it," replied Mousqueton.
Porthos uttered a deep groan.
" Make way for us, Planchet," said D'Artagnan in a whisper to
him, " or he will not arrive alive ; the lungs are attacked, my friend."
Planchet shook his head with the air of a man who says : " In that
case, things look ill." Then he exclaimed, turning to his men,
"Let them pass, they are friends."
The carriage resumed its course, and Mazarin, who had held
his breath, ventured to breathe again.
" Bricconi /" muttered he.
A few steps in advance of the gate of St. Honore, they met a
third troop; this latter party was composed of ill-looking fellows,
who resembled bandits more than anything else; they were the
men of the beggar of St. Eustache.
" Attention, Porthos !" cried D'Artagnan. Porthos placed his
hand on the pistols.
" What is it ?" asked Mazarin.
"My lord, I think we are in bad company."
A man advanced to the door with a kind of scythe in his hand.
" Eh, rascal!" said D'Artagnan, " do you not know his highness
the prince's carriage ?"
" Prince or not," said the man, " open; we are here to guard
the gate, and no one whom we do not know shall pass."
" What is to be done ?" said Porthos.
" Pardieu / to pass," replied D'Artagnan.
" But how pass ?" asked Mazarin.
"Through or over ; coachman, gallop on."
"Not a step further," said the man, who appeared to be the
captain, " or I will hamstring your horses."
296
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Peste /" said Porthos, " it would be a pity; animals which
cost me a hundred pistoles each."
" I will pay you two hundred for them," said Mazarin.
"Yes, but when once they are hamstrung, our necks will be
strung next."
" If one of them comes to my side," asked Porthos, " must I
kill him ?"
" Yes, by a blow of your fist, if you can; we will not fire but at
the last extremity."
" I can do it," said Porthos.
" Come and open then," cried D'Artagnan to the man with the
scythe, taking one of the pistols up by the muzzle, and preparing
to strike with the handle. And as the man approached, D'Ar-
tagnan, in order to have more freedom for his actions, leant half
out of the door; his eyes were fixed upon those of the mendicant,
which were lighted up by a lantern. Doubtless he recognised
D'Artagnan, for he became deadly pale ; doubtless, the Musketeer
knew him, for his hair stood up on his head.
" Monsieur 'd'Artagnan 1" he cried, falling back a step, " Mon
sieur d'Artagnan ! let hint pass."
D'Artagnan was, perhaps, about to reply, when a blow similar
to that of a mallet falling on the head of an ox was heard; it was
Porthos, who had just knocked down his.man.
D'Artagnan turned round and saw the unfortunate man writhing
about four steps off.
" 'Sdeath !" cried he to the coachman. " Spur your horses '
whip ! get on !"
The coachman bestowed a heavy blow of the whip upon his
horses; the noble animals reared, then cries of men who were
knocked down were heard ; then a double concussion was felt,
and two of the wheels had passed over a round and flexible body.
There was a moment's silence; the carriage had cleared the gate.
"To Cours la Reine !" cried D'Artagnan to the coachman;
then turning to Mazarin, he said, " Now, my lord, you can say
five paters and five aves, to thank Heaven for your deliverance.
You are safe, you are free."
Mazarin replied only by a groan ; he could not believe in such
a miracle. Five minutes later the carriage stopped, having reached
Cours la Reine.
" Is my lord pleased with his escort ?" asked D'Artagnan.
" Enchanted, Monson," said Mazarin, venturing his head out of
one of the windows ; " and now do as much for the queen."
" It will be less difficult," replied D'Artagnan, springing to the
THE PLIGHT. 2p7
ground. " Monsieur de Valon, I commend his Eminence to your
care."
" Be quite at ease," said Porthos, holding out his hand, which
D'Artagnan took and shook in his. '
"Oh !" said Porthos.
D'Artagnan looked with surprise at his friend.
"What is the matter, then ?" he asked.
" I think I have sprained the wrist," said Porthos.
" The devil ! why you strike like a blind or a deaf man."
" It was necessary—my man was going to fire a pistol at me ;
but you—how did you get rid of yours ?"
" Oh ! mine," replied D'Artagnan, " was not a man."
" What was it, then?"
" It was an apparition."
"And " /
"I charmed it away."
Without further explanation, D'Artagnan took the pistols which
were upon the front seat, and placed them in his belt, wrapped
himself in his cloak, and, not wishing to enter by the same gate
as that by which they had left, he took his way towards the
Richelieu gate.
CPIAPTER L.
the carriage of monsieur le coadjuteur.
Instead of returning, then, by the St. Honore gate, D'Artagnan,
who had time before him, walked round and re-entered by the Porte
Richelieu. He was approached to be examined; and when it
■ was discovered by his plumed hat and his laced coat that he was
an officer of the Musketeers, he was surrounded, with an intention
to make him cry " Down with Mazarin !" Their first aemonstra-
tion did not fail to make him uneasy at first; but when he knew
what it concerned, he shouted in such a fine voice that even the
most exacting were satisfied. He walked down the Rue Richelieu,
meditating how he should carry off the queen in her turn—for to
take her in a carriage bearing the arms of France was not to be
thought of—when he perceived an equipage standing at the door
of the hotel belonging to Madame de Guemenee.
He was struck by a sudden idea.
" Ah, pardieu /' he exclaimed; "that would be fair play."
And approaching the carriage, he examined the arms on the
298
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
panels, and the livery of the coachman on his box. This scrutiny
was so much the more easy, the coachman being asleep with the
reins in his hands
" It is, in truth, Monsieur le Coadjuteur's carriage," said
D'Artagnan; " upon my honour I begin to think that Heaven is
prospering us."
He mounted noiselessly into the chariot, and pulled the silk cord
which was attached to the coachman's little finger.
" To the Palais Royal,'"' he called out.
The coachman awoke with a start, and drove off in the direction
he was desired, never doubting but that the order had come from
his master. The porter at the palace was about to close the gates,
but seeing such a handsome equipage, he fanced that it was some
visit of importance, and the carriage was allowed to pass, and to
stop under the porch. It was then only that the coachman per-
coived that the grooms were not behind the vehicle; he fancied
Monsieur le Coadjuteur had sent them back, and without leaving
the reins he sprang from his box to open the door. D'Artagnan
sprang in his turn to the ground, and just at the moment when the
coachman, alarmed at not seeing his master, fell back a step, he
seized him by his collar with the left, whilst with the right he
placed a pistol to his throat.
"Try to pronounce one single word," muttered D'Artagnan,
"and you are a dead man."
The coachman perceived at once, by the expression in the
countenance of the man who thus addressed him, that he had
fallen into a trap, and he remained with his mouth wide open and
his eyes immoderately starting.
Two Musketeers were pacing the court, to whom D'Artagnan
called by their names,
"Monsieur Belliere," said he to one of them, "do me the favour
to take the reins from the hands of this worthy man, to mount
upon the box, and to drive to the door of the private stair, and to
wait for me there; it is on an affair of importance which is for
the service of the king."
The Musketeer, who knew that his lieutenant was incapable of
jesting with regard to the service, obeyed without saying a word,
although he thought the order strange. Then turning toward the
second Musketeer, D'Artagnan said :
"Monsieur de Verger, help me to place this man in a place of
safety."
The Musketeer, thinking that his lieutenant had just arrested
some prince in disguise, bowed, and drawing his sword, signified
THE CARRIAGE OF MONSIEUR LE COADJUTEUR. 299
that he was ready. D'Artagpan mounted the staircase, followed
by his prisoner, who in his . turn was followed by the soldier, and
entered Mazarin's anteroom. Bernouin was waiting there, im-
patient for news of his master.
" Well, sir ?' he said.
" Everything goes on capitally, my dear Monsieur Bernouin, but
here is a man whom I must beg you to putin a safe place."
" Where then, sir ?"
" Where you like, provided that the place which you shall
choose has shutters secured by padlocks and a door which can be
locked."
" We have that, sir," replied Bernouin; and the poor coachman
was conducted to a closet, the windows of which were barred, and
which looked very much like a prison.
" And now, my good friend," said D'Artagnan to him, " I must
invite you to deprive yourself, for my sake, of your hat and
cloak."
The coachman, as we can well understand, made no resistance;
in fact, he was so astonished: at what had happened to him that
he stammered and reeled like a drunken man. D'Artagnan de-
posited his clothes under the arm of one of the valets.
" And now, Monsieur Verger," he said, " shut yourself up with
this man until Monsieur Bernouin returns to open the door.
Your office will be tolerably long and not very amusing, I know;
but," added he seriously, "you understand, k is on the king's
service."
"At your command, lieutenant," replied the Musketeer, who
saw that the business was a serious one.
" By-the-bye," continued D'Artagnan, "should this man attempt
to fly or to call out, pass your sword through his body."
The Musketeer signified by a nod that the commands should
be obeyed to the letter, and D'Artagnan went out, followed by
Bernouin: midnight struck.
"Lead me into the queen's oratory," said D'Artagnan, "an-
nounce to her I am there, and put this parcel, with a well-loaded
musket, under the seat of the carriage which is waiting at the foot
of the private stair."
Bernouin conducted D'Artagnan to the oratory, where he sat
down pensively. Everything had gone on as usual at the Palais
Royal. As we said before, at ten o'clock almost all the guests
were dispersed; those who were to fly with the court had the
word of command, and they were each severally desired to be
from twelve o'clock to one at Cours la Reine.
360
Twenty Years aEteR.
At ten o'clock Anne of Austria had entered the king's fooni.
Monsieur had just retired, and the youthful Louis remaining the
last, was amusing himself by placing some lead soldiers in a line of
battle, a game which delighted him much. Two royal pages were
playing with him.
" Laporte," said the queen, "it is time for his majesty to go to
'bed."
The king asked to remain up, having, he said, no wish to sleep;
but the queen was firm.
" Are you not going to-morrow morning at six o'clock, Louis, to
bathe at Conflans ? I think you asked to do so yourself." ,
" You are right, madame," said the king, " and I am ready to
retire to. my room when you have kissed me. Laporte, give the
light to Monsieur the Chevalier de Coislin."
The queen touched with her lips the white, smooth brow which
the royal child presented to her with the gravity which already
partook of etiquette.
" Go to sleep soon, Louis," said the queen, " for you must be
woke very early."
" I will do my best to obey you, madame," said the youthful
king, "but I have no inclination to sleep."
" Laporte," said Anne of Austria, in an under tone, " find
some very dull book to read to his Majesty, but do not undress
yourself."
The king went out, accompanied by the Chevalier de Coislin
bearing the candlestick, and then the queen returned to her own
apartment. Her ladies—that is to say, Madame de Brey, Made-
moiselle de Beaumont, Madame de Motteville, and Socraytine,
her sister, so called on account of her sense, had just brought into
her dressing-room the remains of the dinner, upon which, according
to her usual custom, she supped. The queen then gave her orders,
spoke of a banquet which the Marquis de Villequier was to give
to her on the day after the morrow, indicated the persons whom
she should admit to the honour of being at it, announced another
visit on the following day to Val-de-Grace, where she intended to
pay her devotions, and gave her commands to her senior valet to
accompany her. When the ladies had finished their supper, the
queen feigned extreme fatigue, and passed into her bedroom.
Madame de Motteville, who was on especial duty that evening,
followed to aid and undress her. The queen then began to read,
and, after conversing with her affectionately for a few minutes,
dismissed her.
It was at this moment that D'Artagnan entered with the Coad-
,THE CARRIAGE OF MONSIEUR LE COADJUTEUR. 301
jutor's carriage into the courtyard of the palace, and a few seconds
later the carriage of the ladies in waiting drove out, and the gates
were shut after them.
A few minutes after twelve o'clock Bernouin knocked at the
queen's bedroom door, having come by the Cardinal's secret cor-
ridor. Anne of Austria opened the door herself. She was un-
'dressed—that is to say, she had drawn on her stockings again, and
was wrapped in a long dressing-gown.
" It is you, Bernouin," she said. " Is Monsieur d'Artagnan
there ?"
" Yes, madame, in your oratory; he is waiting till your majesty
be ready."
" I am. Go and tell Lapcrte to wake and dress the king, and
then pass onto the Marechal de Villeroyand summon him to me."
Bernouin bowed and retired.
The queen entered her oratory, which was lighted by a single
lamp of Venetian crystal. She saw D'Artagnan, who stood ex-
pecting her.
" Is it you ?" she said.
"Yes, madame."
" Are you ready ?"
"Iam."
"And his Eminence, the Cardinal."
"Has got off without any accident. He is awaiting your
majesty at Cours la Reine."
"But in what carriage do we start."
" I have provided for everything—a carriage is waiting below
for your majesty."
"Let us go to the king."
D'Artagnan bowed, and followed the queen. The young Louis
was already dressed, with the exception of his shoes and doublet;
he had allowed himself to be dressed in great astonishment,,over-
whelming with questions Laporte, who replied only in these words :
"Sire, it is by the queen's commands."
The bed was open, and the sheets were so worn that holes could
be seen in some places—another evidence of the stinginess of
Mazarin.
The queen entered, and D'Artagnan remained at the door. As
soon as the child perceived the queen he escaped from Laporte,
and ran to meet her. Anne then motioned to D'Artagnan to
approach, and he obeyed.
" My son," said Anne of Austria, pointing to the Musketeer,
cglm, standing uncovered, "here is Monsieur d'Artagnan, who is
302
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
as brave as one of those ancient heroes of whom you like so much
to hear from my wo|nen. Remember his name well, and look at
him well, that his face may not be forgotten, for this evening he is
going to render us a great service."
The young king looked at the officer with his large-formed eye,
and repeated:
" Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"That is it, my son."
The young king slowly raised his little hand, and held it out
to the Musketeer; the latter bent on his knee, and kissed it.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan," repeated Louis; " very well, madame."
At this moment they were startled by a noise as if a tumult
were approaching.
" What is that ?" exclaimed the queen.
" Oh, oh !" replied D'Artagnan, straining both at the same time
his quick ear, and his intelligent glance, " it is the sound of the
people revolting."
" We must fly," said the queen.
"Your majesty has given me the control of this business; we
must wait and see what they want."
" Monsieur d'Artagnan!"
" I will answer for everything."
Nothing is so catching as confidence. The queen, full of
strength and courage, was quickly alive to these two virtues in
others.
" Do as you like," she said, " I rely upon you."
" Will your majesty permit me to give orders in your name in
this whole business."
" Command, sir."
" What do the people want again ?" asked the king.
"We are about to know, sire," replied D'Artagnan, as he rapidly
left the room.
The tumult continued to increase, and seemed to surround the
Palais Royal entirely. Cries were heard from the interior, of
which they could not comprehend the sense. It was evident that
there was clamour and sedition.
The king, half-dressed, the queen and Laporte remained each
in the same state, and almost in the same place, where they were
listening and waiting. Comminges, who was on guard that night
at the Palais Royal, ran in. He had about two hundred men in the
courtyards and stables, and he placed them at the queen's disposal'.
" Well," asked Anne of Austria, when D'Artagnan reappeared,
" what is it ?"
THE CARRIAGE OF MONSIEUR LE COADJUTEUR. 303
" It is, madarae, that the report has spread that the queen has
left the Palais Royal, carrying off the king, and the people ask to
have proof to the contrary, or threaten to demolish .the Palais
Royal."
" Oh, this time it is too much," exclaimed the queen, " and I
will prove to them that I have not left."
D'Artagnan saw from the expression of the queen's face that she
was about to issue some violent command. He approached her,
and said, in a low voice :
" Has your majesty still confidence in me ?"
This voice startled her. " Yes, sir," she replied, " every confi-
dence—speak."
" Will the queen deign to follow my advice ?"
"Speak."
" Let your majesty dismiss M. de Comminges, and desire him
to shut himself up with his men, in the guard-house and in the
stables."
Comminges glanced at D'Artagnan, with the envious look with
which every courtier sees a new favourite spring up.
' You hear, Comminges?" said the queen.
D Artagnan went up to him; with his usual quickness he had
caught the anxious glance.
" Monsieur de Comminges," he said, " pardon me; we are
both the queen's servants, are we not ? it is my turn to be of use
to her; do not envy me this happiness."
Comminges bowed and left.
" Come," said D'Artagnan to himself, " that is one more enemy
for me there."
" And now," said the queen, addressing D'Artagnan, " what
is to be done ? for you hear that, instead of becoming calmer, the
noise increases."
" Madame," said D'Artagnan, " the people want to see the
king, and they must see him."
"How ! they must see him ! where, on the balcony?"
"Not at all, madame, but here, sleeping in his bed."
" Oh, your majesty," exclaimed Laporte, " Monsieur d'Artagnan
is right."
The queen became thoughtful, and smiled, like a woman to
whom duplicity is no stranger.
" Without doubt," she murmured.
" Monsieur Laporte," said D'Artagnan, " go and announce to
the people through the grating that they are going to be satisfied,
and that in five minutes they shall not only see the king, but they
304
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
shall see him in bed; and that the king sleeps, and that the queen
begs that they will keep silence, so as not to awaken him."
"But not every one; a deputation of two or four people."
"Every one, madame."
"But reflect, they will keep us here till daybreak."
" It shall take but a quarter of an hour. I answer for every-
thing, madame; believe me, I know the people—they are like a
great child, who only wants humouring. Before the sleeping king,
they will be mute, gentle, and timid as lambs."
" Go, Laporte," said the queen.
The young king approached his mother and said : " Why do as
these people ask ?"
" It must be so, my son," said Anne of Austria.
"But then, if they say 'it must be' to me, am I no longer
king ?"
The queen remained silent.
"Sire," said D'Artagnan, "will your majesty permit me to ask
you a question ?"
Louis XIV. turned round, astonished that any one should dare
to address him. But the queen pressed the child's hand.
" Yes, sir," he said.
1 "Does your majesty remember when playing in the park of
Fontainebleau, or in the palace-courts at Versailles, to have seen
the sky suddenly become dark, and have heard the sound of
thunder ?"
"Yes, certainly."
" Well, then, this noise of thunder, however much your majesty
may have wished to play on, has said : 'Go in, sire.' You must
do so."
" Certainly, sir; but they tell me that the noise of thunder is
the voice of God."
" Well, then, sire," continued D'Artagnan, " listen to the noise
of the people, and you will see that it resembles that of thunder."
In truth, at that moment a terrible murmur w?~ —afted to them
by the night breeze; then all at once it ceased.
"Hold, sire," said D'Artagnan, " they have just told the people
that you are asleep; you see that you are still king."
The queen looked with surprise at this strange man, whose
brilliant courage made him the equal of the bravest, and who was,
by his fine and ready intelligence, the equal of all.
Laporte entered.
" Well, Laporte," asked the queen.
" Madame," he replied, " Monsieur d'Artagnan's prediction has
THE CARRIAGE OP MONSIEUR LE COADJUTEUR. 3b$
been accomplished; they were calmed as if by enchantment.
The doors are about to be opened, and in five minutes they will
be here."
"Laporte," said the queen, "suppose you put one of your sons
in the king's place; we might be off during the time."
I " If your majesty desires it," said Laporte, " my sons, like my-
self, are at the queen's service."
"Not at all," said D'Artagnan; "for should one of them know
his majesty, and find out the substitute, all would be lost."
"You are right, sir—always right," said Anne of Austria. "La-
porte, pla.ce the king in bed."
Laporte placed the king, dressed as he was, in the bed, and then
covered him as far as the shoulders with the sheet. The queen
bent over him, and kissed his brow.
" Pretend to sleep, Louis," said she.
" Yes," said the king, " but I wish not to be touched by ■ one of
those men."
" Sire, I am here," said D'Artagnan, " and I give you my word
that if a single man has the audacity, his life shall pay for it."
" And now what is to be done ?" asked the queen, " for I hear
them."
" Monsieur Laporte, go to them, and again recommend silence.
Madame, wait at the door, whilst I shall be at the head of the king's
bed, ready to die for him."
' Laporte went out; the queen remained standing near the hang-
ings, whilst D'Artagnan glided behind the curtains.
Then the heavy and collected steps of a multitude of men were
heard, and the queen herself raised the tapestry hangings, and out
her finger on her lips.
On seeing the queen, the men stopped short, respectfully.
" Enter, gentlemen ; enter," said the queen.
There was then amongst that crowd a moment's hesitation,
whic?i*looked like shame. They had expected resistance—they
had expected to be thwarted—to have to force the gates, and to
overturn the guards. The gates had opened of themselves ; and
the king, ostensibly at least, had no other guard at his bed-head,
but his mother. The foremost of them stammered, and attempted
to fall back.
" Enter then, gentlemen," said Laporte, " since the queen per-
mits you to do so."
Then, one more bold than the rest, ventured to pass the door,
and to advance on tip-toe. This example was imitated by the
rest, until the room filled silently, as if these men had been the
20
TWENTY YEARS AFTER
most humble and devoted courtiers; Far beyond the door, the
heads of those who were not able to enter could be seen, all rising
on the tips of their feet.
D'Artagnan saw it all through an opening that he had made in
the curtain, and in the first man who had entered he had recognised
Planchet.
" Sir," said the queen to him, thinking that he was the leader of
the band, " you wished to see the king, and therefore I determined
to show him to you myself. Approach, and look at him, and say
if we have the appearance of people who wish to escape."
"No, certainly," replied Planchet, rather astonished at the un-
expected honour conferred upon him.
"You will say, then, to my good and faithful Parisians," con-
tinued Anne, with a smile, the expression of which did not deceive
D'Artagnan, " that you have seen the king in bed and asleep, and
the queen also ready to retire."
" I shall tell them, madame, and those who accompany me will
say the same thing, but "
" But what ?" asked Anne of Austria.
"May your majesty pardon me," said Planchet; "but is it
really the king who is lying there ?"
Anne of Austria started, "If," she said, " there is one among
you who knows the king, let him approach, and say whether it is
really his majesty lying there."
A man, wrapped in a cloak, in the folds of which his face was
hidden, approached, and leant over the bed and looked.
For one second D'Artagnan thought the man had some evil
design, and he put his hand to his sword; but in the movement
made by the man in stooping, a portion of his face was uncovered,
and D'Artagnan recognised the Coadjutor.
" It is certainly the king," said the man, rising again. "God
bless his majesty!"
"Yes," repeated the leader in a whisper, " God bless his majesty!"
and all these men who had entered furious, passed from anger to
pity, and blessed the royal infant in their turn.
"Now," said Planchet, "let us thank the queen. My friends,
retire."
They all bowed, and retired by degrees, as noiselessly as they
had entered. Planchet, who had been the first to enter, was the
last to leave. The queen stopped him.
"What is your name, my friend?" she said.
Planchet, much surprised at the inquiry, turned back.
" Yes," continued the queen, " I think myself as much honoured
the carriage or monsieur le coadjuteur. 307
to have received you this evening as if you had been a prince, and
I wish to know your name."
"Yes," thought Planchet, "to treat me as a prince. No, thank
you."
D'Artagnan trembled lest Planchet, seduced like the crow in the
faole, should say his name, and that the queen, knowing his name,
would discover that Planchet had belonged to him.
" Madame," replied Planchet, respectfully, " I am called
Dulaurier, at your service."
" Thank you, Monsieur Dulaurier," said the queen, " and what
is your business ?"
" Madame, I am a clothier in the Rue Bourdonnais."
" That is all that I wished to know," said the queen. " Much
obliged to you, Monsieur Dulaurier. You will hear again from
me."
" Come, come," thought D'Artagnan, emerging from behind the
curtain; " decidedly Monsieur Planchet is no fool, and it is evident
he has been brought up in a good school."
The different actors in this strange scene remained facing one
another, without uttering a single word ; the queen standing near
the door—D'Artagnan half out of his hiding place—the king
raised on his elbow, ready to fall down on his bed again, at the
slightest sound which should indicate the return of the multitude;
but instead of approaching, the noise became more and more dis-
tant, and finished by dying away entirely.
The queen breathed more freely. D'Artagnan wiped his damp
forehead, and the king slid off his bed, saying,—" Let us go."
At this moment Laporte re-appeared.
" Well ?" asked the queen.
" Well, madame !" replied the valet; " I followed them as far as
the gates. They announced to all their comrades that they had
seen the king, and that the queen had spoken to them; and, in
fact, they have gone off quite proud and happy."
" Oh, the miserable wretches!" murmured the queen, " they
shall pay dearly for their boldness, and it is I who promise it to
them."
Then turning to D'Artagnan, she said :
" Sir, you have given me this evening the best advice that I
have ever received. Continue, and say what we must do now."
" Monsieur Laporte," said D'Artagnan, " finish dressing his
majesty."
" We may go then ?" asked the qtieen.
2 q —a
3°8
TWENTY YEARS AFTER;
" When your majesty pleases. You have only to descend by the
private stairs, and you will find me at the door."
" Go, sir," said the queen; " I will follow you."
D'Artagnan went down, and found the carriage at its post, and
the Musketeer on the box. DArtagnan took out the parcel, which
he had desired Bernouin to place under the seat. It may be re-
membered that it was the hat and cloak belonging to Monsieur de
Gondy's coachman.
He placed the cloak on his shoulders, and the hat on his head,
whilst the Musketeer got off the box.
" Sir," said D'Artagnan, " you will go and release your com-
panion, who is guarding the coachman. You must mount your
horse, and proceed to Rue Tiquetonne, Hotel de la Chevrette,
whence you will take my horse, and that of Monsieur de Valon,
which you must saddle and equip as if for war, and then you will
leave Paris, bringing them with you to Cours la Reine. If, when
you arrive at Cours la Reine, you find no one, you must go on to
St. Germain. On the king's service."
The Musketeer touched his cap, and went away to execute the
orders he had received.
D'Artagnan mounted on the box, having a pair of pistols in his
belt, a musket under his feet, and a naked sword behind him.
The queen appeared, and was followed by the king and the
Duke d'Anjou, his brother.
" Monsieur the Coadjutor's carriage !" she exclaimed, falling
back.
" Yes, madame," said D'Artagnan; " but get in fearlessly, for I
drive you."
The queen uttered a cry of surprise, and entered the carriage,
and the king and monsieur took their places at her side.
" Come, Laporte," said the queen.
" How, madame !" said the valet, " in the same carriage as your
majesties !"
" It is not a matter of royal etiquette this evening, but of the
king's safety. Get in, Laporte."
Laporte obeyed.
•" Pull down the blinds," said D'Artagnan.
"But will that not excite suspicion, sir?" asked the queen.
" Your majesty's mind may be quite at ease," replied the officer.
" I have my answer ready."
The blinds were pulled down, and they started at a gallop by the
Rue Richelieu. On reaching the gate, the captain of the post ad-'
vanced at the head of some ten men, holding a lantern in his hand*
THE CARRIAGE OF MONSIEUR IE COADJUTEUR, 3^9
D'Artagnan signed to them to draw near.
" Do you recognise the carriage ?" he asked the sergeant,
" No," replied the latter.
" Look at the arms."
The sergeant put the lantern near the panel.
" They are those of Monsieur le. Coadjuteur," he said.
" Hush; he is enjoying a ride with Madame de Guemenee."
The sergeant began to laugh.
" Open the gate," he cried, " I know who it is !" Then putting
his face to the lowered blinds, he said :
" I wish you joy, my lord !"
" Impudent fellow," cried D'Artagnan, " you will get me turned
off."
The gate groaned on its hinges, and D'Artagnan, seeing the
way cleared, whipped on his horses, who started at a canter, and
five minutes later they had rejoined the Cardinal.
" Mousqueton !" exclaimed D'Artagnan, " draw up the blinds of
his majesty's carriage."
"It is he !" cried Porthos.
" As a coachman !" exclaimed Mazarin.
" And with the Coadjutor's carriage !" said the queen. ■
" Corpo di Dio ! Monson d'Artagnan," said Mazarin, " you are
worth your weight in gold."
CHAPTER LI.
how d'artagnan and porthos earned by the sale of straw,
the one two hundred and nineteen, and the other
two hundred and fifteen, louis d'or.
Mazarin was desirous of setting out instantly for St. Germain;
but the queen declared that she should wait for the people whom
she had appointed to meet her. However, she offered the Car-
dinal, Laporte's place, which he accepted, and went from one carriage
to the other.
It was not without foundation that a report *of the king's in-
tending to leave Paris by night had been circulated. Ten or
twelve persons had been in the secret since six o'clock, and how
great soever their prudence might be, they could not issue the
necessary orders for the departure without the thing transpiring a
little. Besides, each individual had some one or two others in-
terested in him; and as there could be no doubt but that the
3io
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
queen was leaving Paris full of terrible projects of vengeance,
every one had warned parents and friends of what was going to
happen; so that the news of the approaching exit ran like a train
of lighted gunpowder through the streets.
The first carriage which arrived after that of the queen was that
of the Prince de Conde, who, with the princess and dowager
princess, was in it. Both these ladies had been awakened in the
middle of the night, and did not know what it was all about. The
second contained the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, the tall young
Mademoiselle, and the Abbe de la Riviere; and the third, the
Duke de Longueville and the Prince de Conti, brother and'
brother-in-law of Conde. They all alighted, and hastened to
pay their respects to the king and queen in their coach. The
queen fixed her eyes upon the carriage they had left, and seeing
that it was empty, she said :
" But where is Madame de Longueville ?"
" Ah, yes, where is my sister?" asked the prince.
"Madame de Longueville is ill," said the duke, "and she de-
sired me to excuse her to your majesty."
Anne gave a quick glance at Mazarin, who replied by an almost
imperceptible shake of his head.
" What do you say of this ?" asked the queen.
"I say that she is an hostage for the Parisians," answered the
Cardinal.
" Why is she not come ?" asked the prince in a low voice, ad-
dressing his brother.
"Silence," whispered the duke ; "she has her reasons."
" She will ruin us !" returned the prince.
" She will save us," said Conti.
Carriages now arrived in crowds: those of the Marechal de
Villeroy, Guitant, Villequier, and Comminges came into the line.
The two Musketeers arrived in their turn, holding the horses of
D'Artagnan and Porthos in their hands, These two instantly
mounted; the coachman of the latter replacing D'Artagnan on
the coach-box of the royal coach. Mousqueton took the place of
the coachman, apd drove standing—for reasons known to himself
—like the Phaeton of antiquity.
The queen, though occupied by a thousand details, tried to
catch the Gascon's eye; but he, with his wonted prudence, had
mingled with the crowd.
" Let us be the avant-guard," said he to Porthos, "and find out
good quarters at St. Germain; nobody will think of us, and for
my part, I am much fatigued."
EARNINGS BY THE SALE OF STRAW.
3"'
" As for me," replied Porthos, " I'm falling asleep, considering
that we have not had any fighting; truly, the Parisians are idiots."
".Or rather, we are very clever," said D'Artagnan.
" Perhaps-."
" And your wrist—how is it ?"
" Better-^but do you think that we've got them this time ?"
" Got what ?" .
"You, your promotion—and I, my title."
" I'faith ! yes—I should expect so—besides, if they forget, I
shall take the liberty of reminding them,"
"The Queen's voice ! She is speaking," said Porthos ; " I think
she wants to ride on horseback."
" Oh, she would like it—she would—but "
"But what?"
"The Cardinal won't allow it. Gentlemen," he said, addressing
the two Musketeers, " accompany the royal carriage; we are going
on to seek for lodgings."
" Let us depart, gentlemen," said the queen.
And the royal carriage drove on, followed by the other coaches
and about fifty horsemen.
They reached St. Germain without any accident: on descending
the footstep, the queen found the prince awaiting her, bareheaded,
to offer her His hand.
" What an alarum for the Parisians !" said the queen.
" It is war," were the emphatic words of the prince.
"Well, then, let it be war ! Have we not on our side the con-
queror of Mocroy, of Nordlingen, of Lens ?"
The prince bowed low.
It was then nine o'clock in the morning. The queen walked
first into the chateau ; everyone followed her. About two hundred
persons had accompanied her in her flight.
"Gentlemen," said the queen, laughing, "pray take up your
abode in the chateau ; it is large, and there will be no want of
room for you all; but, as we never thought of coming here, I am
informed th.at there are, in all, only three beds here, one for the
king, one for me "
" And one for the Cardinal," muttered the prince.
" Am I—am I then to sleep on the floor ?" asked Gaston
D'Orleans, with a forced smile.
"No, my prince," replied Mazarin, "for the third bed is in-
tended for your highness."
" But your Eminence ?" replied the prince.
" I"—answered Mazarin—" I shall not sleep at all t I shall
have work to do."
312
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Gaston desired that he should be shown into the room where
he was to sleep, without in the least concerning himself as to where
his wife and daughter were to repose.
" Well, for my part, I shall go to bed," said D'Artagnan ; " come,
Porthos."
Porthos followed the lieutenant with that profound confidence
which he had in the wisdom of his friend. They walked from one
end of the chateau to the other, Porthos looking with wondering
eyes at D'Artagnan, who was counting on his fingers.
"Four hundred, at a pistole each—four hundred pistoles."
"Yes," interposed Porthos, "four hundred pistoles; but who
is to make four hundred pistoles ?"
" A pistole is not enough," said D'Artagnan, " 'tis worth alouis."
" What is worth a louis ?"
"Four hundred, at a louis each, make four hundred louis."
" Four hundred !" exclaimed Porthos.
" Listen !" cried D'Artagnan.
But, as there were all descriptions of people about, who were in
a state of wonderment at the arrival of the court, which they were
watching, he whispered in his friend's ear.
"I understand," answered Porthos, "I understand you per-
fectly, on my honour: two hundred louis, each of us, would be
making a pretty thing of it; but what will people say ?"
" Let them say what they will; besides, how will they know
it's us."
" But who will distribute these things ?" asked Porthos.
" I, and Mousqueton there."
" But he wears my livery; my livery will be known," replied
Porthos.
" He can turn his coat inside out."
" You are always in the right, my dear friend," cried Porthos;
" but where the devil do you discover all the notions you put into
practice ?" ,
D'Artagnan smiled. The two friends turned down the first
street they came to. Porthos knocked at the door of. a house to
the right, whilst D'Artagnan knocked at the door of a house to
the left.
" Some straw," they said.
"Sir, we don't keep any," was the reply of the people who
opened the doors; "but ask, please, at the hay-dealer's."
" Where is the hay-dealer's ?"
"At the last large door in the street."
" Are there any other people in Saint Qermain who sell stra,w f"
EARNINGS BY THE SALE OF STRAIV. 313
" Yes; there's the landlord of the Lamb, and Gros-Louis, the
farmer—they live in the Rue dds Ursulines."
"Very well,"
D'Artagnan went instantly to the hay-dealer, and bargained with
him for a hundred and fifty trusses of straw, which he had, at the
rate of three pistoles each. He went afterwards to the innkeeper,
and bought from him two hundred trusses at the same price.
Finally, Farmer Louis sold them eighty trusses, making in all four
hundred and thirty.
There was no more to be had in Saint Germain. This foraging
did not occupy more than half an hour. Mousqueton, duly in-
structed, was put at the head of this sudden and new business.
He was cautioned not to let a bit of straw out of his hands under
a louis a truss, and they entrusted to him straw to the amount of
four hundred and thirty louis. D'Artagnan, taking with him three
trusses of straw, returned to the chateau, where everybody, freezing
with cold, and falling asleep, envied the king, the queen, and the
Duke of Orleans, on their camp-beds. The lieutenant's entrance
produced a burst of laughter in the great drawing-room; but he
did not appear to notice that he was the object of general atten-
tion, but began to arrange with so much cleverness, nicety, and
gaiety, his straw bed, that the mouths of all these sleepy creatures,
who could not go to sleep, began to water.
" Straw !" they all cried out, " straw ! where is any to be found ?"
" I can show you," answered the Gascon.
And he conducted them to Mousqueton, who distributed
lavishly the trusses at a guinea a-piece. It was thought rather
dear, but people wanted to go to sleep, and who would not give
even two or three louis for some hours of sound sleep ?
Mousqueton, who knew nothing of what was going on in the
chateau, wondered that the idea had not occurred to him sooner.
D'Artagnan put the gold in his hat, and, in going back to the
chateau, settled the reckoning with Porthos; each of them had
cleared two hundred and fifteen louis.
Porthos, however, found that he had no straw left for himself.
He returned to Mousqueton, but the steward had sold the last
wisp. He then repaired to D'Artagnan, who, thanks to his four
trusses of straw, was in the act of making up and of tasting, by
anticipation, the luxury of a bed so soft, so well stuffed at the
head, so well covered at the foot, that it would have excited the
envy of the king himself, if his majesty had not been fast asleep in
his own. D'Artagnan could, on no account, consent to pull his
bed to pieces again for PorthQs, but for a consideration of four
3*4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
louis that the latter paid him for it, he consented that Porthos
should share his couch with him. He laid his sword at the head,
his pistols by his side, stretched his cloak over his feet, placed his
felt hat on the top 'of his cloak, and extended himself luxuriously
on the straw, which rustled under him. He was already enjoying
the sweet dreams engendered by the possession of two hundred
and nineteen louis, made in a quarter of an hour, when a voice
was heard at the door of the hall, which made him stir.
" Monsieur D'Artagnan !" it cried.
" Here !" cried Porthos, " here !"
Porthos foresaw that if D'Artagnan was called away he should
remain sole possessor of the bed. An officer approached.
" I am come to fetch you, Monsieur D'Artagnan."
" From whom ?"
" His Eminence sent me."
"Tell my lord that I'm going to sleep, and I advise him, as a
friend, to do the same."
" His Eminence is not gone to bed, and will not go to bed, and
wants you instantly."
" The devil take Mazarin, who does not know when to sleep at
the proper time. What does he want with me ? Is it to make me
a captain ? In that case I forgive him."
And the Musketeer rose, grumbling, took his sword, hat, pistols,
and cloak, and followed the officer, whilst Porthos, alone, and sole
possessor of the bed, endeavoured to follow the good example of
falling asleep, which his predecessor had set him.
" Monsieur D'Artagnan," said the Cardinal, on perceiving him,
" I have not forgotten with what zeal you have served me. I am
going to prove to you that I have not."
" Good," thought the Gascon, " this begins well."
" Monsieur d'Artagnan," he resumed, " do you wish to become
a captain ?"
" Yes, my lord."
" And your friend still wishes to be made a baron ?"
"At this ver}l moment, my lord, he's dreaming that he is one."
" Then," said Mazarin, taking from his portfolio the letter which
he had already shown D'Artagnan, " take this despatch, and carry
it to England."
D'Artagnan looked at the envelope, there was no address on it.
" Am I not to know to whom to present it ?"
" You will know when you reach London: at London you may
tear off the outer envelope."
" And what are my instructions ?"
EARNINGS BY THE SALE OF STRAW.
315
"To obey, in every particular, him to whom this letter is ad-
dressed. You must set out for Boulogne. At the ' Royal Arms
of England' you will find a young gentleman, named Mordaunt."
" Yes, my lord; and what am I to do with this young gentle-
man ?"
" " To follow wherever he leads you."
D'Artagnan looked at the Cardinal with a stupefied air.
" There are your instructions," said Mazarin; " go !"
" Go ! 'tis easy to say so, but that requires money, and I haven't
any."
Ah !" replied Mazarin, " so you've no money ?"
" None, my lord."
" But the diamond I gave you yesterday ?"
I wish to keep it in remembrance of your Eminence."
Mazarin sighed.
" 'Tis very dear living in England, my lord, especially as envoy
extraordinary."
" Zounds !" replied Mazarin, " the people there are very sedate,
and their habits,, since the revolution, simple; but no matter."
He opened a drawer, and took out a purse.
" What do you say to a thousand crowns ?"
D.'Artagnan pouted out his lower lip in a most extraordinary
manner.
" I reply, my lord, 'tis but little, as certainly I shall not go
alone."
" I suppose not. Monsieur de Valon, that worthy gentleman,
for, with the exception of yourself, Monson d'Artagnan, there's
not a man in France that I esteem and love so much as him "
" Then, my lord," replied D'Artagnan, pointing to the purse
which Mazarin still held, " if you love and esteem him so much,
you—understand me ?"
" Be it so ! on his account I add two hundred crowns."
"Scoundrel!" muttered D'Artagnan—"but on our return," he
said aloud, " may we, that is, my friend and I, depend on having,
he his barony, and I my promotion ?"
" On the honour of Mazarin."
" I should like another sort of oath better," said D'Artagnan to
himself—then aloud, " May I not offer my duty to her majesty
the queen ?"
" Her majesty is asleep, and you must set off directly," replied
Mazarin, "go, pray, sir "
" One word more, my lord; if there's any fighting where I'm
going, ought I to fight ?"
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" You are to obey the commands of the personage to whom I
have addressed the enclosed letter."
" 'Tis well," said D'Artagnan, holding out his hand to receive
the money. " I offer my best respects and services to you, my
lord."
D'Artagnan then, returning to the officer, said,—
" Sir, have the kindness also to awaken Monsieur de Yalon,
and to say 'tis by his Eminence's orders, and that I shall wait for
him at the stables."
The officer went off with an eagerness that showed the Gascon
that he had some personal interest in the matter.
Porthos was snoring most musically, when some one touched
him on the shoulder.
" I come from the Cardinal," said the officer.
"Heigho !" said Porthos, opening his large eyes; "what do you
say ?"
" I say that his eminence has ordered you to go to England, and
that'Monsieur D'Artagnan is waiting for you in the stables."
Porthos sighed heavily—arose, took his hat, his pistols, and his
cloak, and departed, casting a look of regret on the bed where he
had hoped to sleep so well.
Scarcely had he turned his back than the officer laid hirpself
down in it, and he had not crossed the threshold of the door,
before his successor, in his turn, snored immoderately. It was very
natural, he being the only man in the whole assemblage of people,
except the king, the queen, and the Duke of Orleans, who slept
gratis.
CHAPTER LI I.
in which we hear tidings of aramis.
D'Artagnan went straight to the stables; day had just dawned.
He found his horse and that of Porthos fastened to the manger,
but to an empty manger. He took pity on these poor animals,
and went to a corner of the stable, where he saw a little straw, but
in doing so he struck his foot against a round body, which uttered
a cry, and arose on its knees, rubbing its eyes. It was Mousqueton,
who, having no straw to lie upon himself, had helped himself to
that of the horses.
" Mousqueton," cried D'Artagnan, "let us be off! Let us set
off."
TIDINGS OF AFAMIS.
3*7
MouSqiieton, recognising the voice of his master's friend, got up
suddenly, and in doing so, let fall some louis which he had appro-
priated to himself illegally during the night.
" Ho ! ho !" exclaimed D'Artagnan, picking up a louis and dis-
playing it; "here's a louis that smells of straw a little."
Mousqueton blushed so confusedly that the Gascon began to
laugh at him, and said :
1 "Porthos would be angry, my dear Monsieur Mouston, but I
pardon you—only let us remember that this gold must serve us as
a joke—so be gay—come along."
Mousqueton instantly assumed a most jovial countenance, saddled
the horses quickly, and mounted his own without making faces
over it.
Whilst this went on, Porthos arrived with a very cross look on
his face, and was astonished to find the lieutenant resigned, and
Mousqueton almost merry.
" Ah, that's it," he cried, " you have your promotion, and I my
barony."
"We are going to fetch our brevets," said D'Artagnan, "and
when we come back, master Mazarin will sign them."
" And where are we going ?" asked Porthos.
" To Paris first—I have affairs to settle."
And they both set out for Paris.
On arriving at its gates they were astounded to see the threaten-
ing aspect of the capital. Around two broken-down carriages the
people were uttering imprecations, whilst the persons who had
attempted to escape were made prisoners—that is to say, an
old man and two women. On the other hand, when the two
friends wanted to enter, they showed them every kind of civility,
thinking them deserters from the royal party, and wishing to bind
them to their own.
" What's the king doing ?" they asked.
"He is sleeping."
" And the Spanish woman ?"
"She's dreaming."
" And the cursed Italian ?"
" He is awake, so keep on the watch—as they are gone away,
it's for some purpose, rely 011 it. But as you are the strongest,
after all," continued D'Artagnan, " don't be furious with old men
and women, and keep your wrath for good occasions."
The people listened to these words, and let go the ladies, who
thanked D'Artagnan with an appealing look.
Now 1 onward !" cried the Gascon.
3i«
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
And they continued their way, crossing the barricades, getting
the chains about their legs, pushed about, questioning, and ques-
tioned.
In the place of the Palais Royal D'Artagnan saw a sergeant, who
was drilling six or seven hundred citizens.' It was Planchet, who
brought into play profitably the recollections of the regiment de
Piedmont. He recognised his old master, and, staring at him
with wondering eyes, stood still. The first row, seeing their
sergeant stop, stopped, and soon to the very last.
"These citizens are awfully ridiculous," observed D'Artagnan
to Planchet, and went on his way.
Five minutes afterwards he entered the hotel of La Chevrette,
where pretty Madeleine, the hostess, came to him.
"My dear Mistress Turquanie," said the Gascon, "if you
happen to have any money, lock it up quickly. If you happen to
have any jewels, hide them directly—if you happen to have any
debtors, make them pay you, or have any creditors, don't pay them."
" Why, prythee ?" asked Madeleine.
" Because Paris is going to be reduced to dust and ashes like
Babylon, of which you have heard speak "
" And you are going to leave me at such a time ?"
"This very instant."
" And where are you going ?"
" Ah, if you could tell me that you'd be doing me a service."
" Ah, me ! ah, me !"
" Have you any letters for me ?" inquired D'Artagnan, wishing
to signify to the hostess that her lamentations were superfluous, and
that therefore she had better spare him the demonstrations of her
grief.
" There's one just arrived."
" From Athos and he read as follows :
" £ Dear D'Artagnan, dear De Valon—My good friends,
perhaps this may be the last time that you will ever hear from me.
Let God, our courage, and the remembrance of our friendship,
support you, nevertheless. I entrust to you certain papers which
are at Blois, and in two months and a half, if you do not hear of
us, take possession of them.'
" £ Embrace, with all your heart, the vicomte, for your devoted
friend, " £ Athos.'
" I believe, by heaven," said D'Artagnan, " that I shall embrace
him, since he's upon our road; and if he is so unfortunate as to
lose our dear Athos, from this very day he becomes my son."
PlRlNGS OF ARAM/G.
"And I," said Porthos, "shall make him my'sole heir."
Let us see, what more does Athos say ?"
"' Should you meet on your journey a certain Monsieur Mor-
daunt, distrust him—in a letter I cannot say more.'
"Monsieur Mordaunt !" exclaimed the Gascon, surprised.
" Monsieur Mordaunt! 'tis well," said Porthos; " we shall re-
member that—but look, there's a postscript,"
" ' We conceal the place where we are, dear friend, knowing your
brotherly affection, and that you would come and die with us were
we to reveal it,' "
"Confound it," interrupted Porthos, with an explosion of passion
which sent Mousqueton to the other end of the room; "are they
in danger of dying ?"
D'Artagnan continued,—
" ' Atho^ bequeaths to you Raoul, and I bequeath to you my re-
venge. If by any good luck you lay your hand on a certain man,
named Mordaunt, tell Porthos to take him into a corner, and to
wring his neck. I dare not say more in a letter.'"
" If that is all, Aramis, it is easily done," said Porthos.
" On the contrary," observed D'Artagnan, with a vexed look;
"it would be impossible."
"How so?"
" This is precisely this Monsieur Mordaunt, whom we are going
to join at Boulogne, and with whom we cross to England."
"Well, suppose instead of joining this Monsieur Mordaunt, we
were to go and join our friends?" said Porthos, with a gesture fit
to frighten a whole army.
"I did think of it, but this letter has neither date nor post-
mark."
"True," said Porthos. And he began to wander about the
room like a man beside himself, gesticulating, and half drawing his
sword out of the scabbard.
As to D'Artagnan, he remained standing like a man in conster-
nation, with the deepest affliction depicted on his face.
" Ah, 'tis not right; Athos insults us ; he wishes to die alone—
that's bad."
Mousqueton, witnessing this despair, melted into tears, in a
corner of the room.
" Stop—an idea!" cried Porthos; "indeed, my dear D'Artagnan,
I don't know how you manage, but you are always full of ideas; let
us go and embrace Raoul."
" Woe to that man who should happen to contradict my master
at this moment," said Mousqueton to himself u I wouldn't give a
farthing for his skin."
320
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
They set out. On arriving at St. Denis, the friends found a vast
concourse of people. It was the Due de Beaufort who was coming
from the Vendomois, and whom the Coadjutor was showing to the
Parisians, intoxicated with joy. With the duke's aid, they con-
sidered themselves already as invincible.
" Is it true," saidThe guard to the two cavaliers, "that the Due
de Beaufort has arrived in Paris ?"
" Nothing more certain; and the best proof of it is," said D'Ar-
tagnan, " that he has despatched us to meet the Due de Vendomee,
his father, who is coming in his turn."
" Long live De Beaufort!" cried the guards, and tKey drew back
respectfully to let the two friends pass. Onoe across the barriers,
these two knew neither fatigue nor fear. Their horses flew, and
they never ceased speaking of Athos and Aramis.
The camp had entered Saint Omer: the friends made a little
round, and went to the camp, and gave the army an exact account
of the flight of the king and queen. ' They found Raoul near his
tent, reclined upon a truss of hay, of which his horse stole some
mouthfuls; the young man's eyes were red, and he seemed dejected.
The Marechal de Grammont and the Due de Guiche had returned
to Paris, and he was quite lonely. As soon as he saw the two
cavaliers, he ran to them with open arms.
" Oh, is it you, dear friends ? Do you come here to fetch me ?
Shall you take me away with you ? Do you bring me tidings of
my guardian ?'"*
" Have you not received any ?" said D'Artagnan to the youth.
" Alas ! sir, no—and I do not know what has become of him—
so that I am really so unhappy as to weep."
In fact, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Porthos turned aside, in order not to show on his good round
face what was passing in his mind.
" Deuce take it," cried D'Artagnan, more moved than he had
been for a long time—" don't despair, my friend, if you have not
received any letters from the count, we have received—we—■
one."
" Oh, really !" cried Raoul.
"And a comforting one, too," added D'Artagnan, seeing the
delight that his intelligence gave the young man.
" Have you got it ?" asked Raoul.
"Yes—that is, I had it," replied the Gascon, making believe to
try and find it. " Wait, it ought to be there, in my pocket; it
speaks of his return, does it not, Porthos ?"
" Yes," replied Porthos, laughing.
TWINGS OF ADA MIS.
321
" Eh ! I read it a little while since. Can I have lost it ? Ah !
confound it! my pocket has a hole in it."
" Oh yes. Monsieur Raoul!" said Mousqueton; " the letter was
.very consoling. These gentlemen read it to me, and I wept for
joy."
" But then, at any rate, you know where he is, Monsieur D'Ar-
tagnan?" asked Raoul, somewhat comforted.
"Ah ! that's the thing !" replied the Gascon. " Undoubtedly I
know it, but it is a mystery."
"Not to me, I hope ?"
"No, not to you, so I am going to tell you where he is."
Porthos looked at D'Artagnan with his large wondering eyes.
" Where the devil shall I say that he is, so that he cannot try to
rejoin him ?" thought D'Artagnan.
" Well, where is he, sir ?" asked Raoul, in a soft and coaxing
voice.
" He is at Constantinople."
" Among the Turks!" exclaimed Raoul, alarmed. " Good
heavens ! how can you tell me that ?"
"Does that alarm you?" cried D'Artagnan. "Pooh ! what are
the Turks to such a man as the Count de la Fere and the Abbe
D'Herblay?" -
" Ah, his friend is with him I" said Raoul; " that consoles me a
little."
" Has he wit or not—this demon D'Artagnan ?" said Porthos,
astonished at his friend's deception.
"Now, sir," said D'Artagnan, wishing to change the conversa-
tion, " here are fifty pistoles that the count has sent you by the
same courier. I suppose you have no more money, and that they
will be welcome."
" I have still twenty pistoles, sir."
"Well, take them; that makes seventy."
" And if you wish for more," said Porthos, putting his hand to
his pocket
"Thank you, sir," replied Raoul, blushing; "thank you a
thousand times."
At this moment Olivain appeared.. "Apropos," said D'Ar-
tagnan, loud enough for the servant to hear him, " are you satisfied
with Olivain ?"
"Yes, in some respects, pretty well."
" What fault do you find with the fellow ?"
" He is a glutton."
Oh, sir," cried Olivain, reappearing at this accusation.
2T.
322
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"And somewhat of a thief."
" Oh, sir ! oh !"
"And, more especially, a great coward."
" Oh, oh, sir ! you really villify me !" cried Olivain.
" The deuce !" cried D'Artagnan. " Pray learn, Monsieur Oli-
vain, that people like us are not to be served by cowards. You
rob your master—you eat his sweetmeats and drink his wine; but,
by Jove ! don't be a coward, or I shall cut off your ears. Look
at Monsieur Mouston, see the honourable wounds he has received,
and look how his habitual valour has given dignity to his coun-
tenance."
Mousqueton was in the third heavens, and would have embraced
D'Artagnan had he dared ; meanwhile, he resolved to sacrifice his
life for him on the next occasion that presented itself.
" Send away that fellow, Raoul," said the Gascon ; " for if he's
a coward he will disgrace thee some day."
" Monsieur says I am a coward," cried Olivain, " because he
wanted the other day to fight a cornet in Grammont's regiment,
and I refused to accompany him."
" Monsieur Olivain, a lacquey ought never to disobey," said
D'Artagnan, sternly; then, taking him aside, he whispered to him,
"Thou hast done right; thy master was wrong; here's a crown
for thee; but should he ever be insulted, and thou dost not let
thyself be cut in quarters for him, I will cut out thy tongue. Re-
member that well."
Olivain bowed, and slipped the crown into his pocket.
"And now, Raoul," said the Gascon, "Monsieur de Valon and
I are going away as ambassadors—where, I know not; but should
you want anything, write to Madame Turquaine, at La Chevrette,
Rue Tiquetonne, and draw upon her money as on a banker—>
with economy; for it is not so well filled as that of Monsieur St.
Emery."
And having, meantime, embraced his ward, he passed him into
the robust arms of Porthos, who lifted him up from the ground
and held him a moment suspended, near the noble heart of the
formidable giant.
"Come," said D'Artagnan, "let us go."
And they set out for Boulogne, where, towards evening, they
arrived, their horses covered with foam and heat.
At ten steps from the place where they halted was a young man
in black, who seemed waiting for some one, and who, from the
moment he saw them enter the town, never took his eyes off-
them.
TIDINGS OF ARAM1S.
323
D'Artagnan approached him, and seeing him stare so fixedly,
said:
" Well, friend ! I don't like people to scan me !"
, "Sir," said the young man, "do you not come from Paris, if
you please ?"
D'Artagnan thought it was some gossip who wanted news from
the capital.
" Yes, sir," he said in a softened tone.
" Are you not to lodge at the ' Arms of England ?'"
"Yes, sir."
•" Are you not charged with a mission from his Eminence Car-
dinal Mazarin !" '
"Yes, sir."
" In that case I am the man you have to do with. I am Mr.
Mordaunt."
" Ah !" thought D'Artagnan, " the man I am warned against by
Athos."
" Ah !" thought Porthos, " the man Aramis wants me to
strangle."
" Well, gentlemen," resumed Mordaunt, " we must set off with-
out delay; to-day is the last day granted me by the Cardinal.
My ship is ready, and had you not come, I must have set off with-
out you, for General Cromwell expects my return, impatiently."
" So !" thought the lieutenant, " 'tis to General Cromwell that
our despatches are addressed."
" Have you no letter to him ?" asked the young man.
" I have one, the seal of which I was not to break till I reached
London ; but since you tell me to whom it is addressed, 'tis useless
to wait till then."
D'Artagnan tore open the envelope of the letter. It was di-
rected to " Mr. Oliver Cromwell, General of the army of the
English nation."
"Ah !" said D'Artagnan, "a singular commission."
" Who is this Monsieur Oliver Cromwell ?" asked Porthos.
" Formerly a brewer," replied the Gascon.
" Perhaps Mazarin wishes to make a speculation in beer, as
we have in straw," said Porthos.
" Come, come, gentlemen," said Mordaunt impatiently, " let us
depart."
" What !" cried Porthos, " without supper ? Cannot Monsieur
Cromwell wait a little ?"
" Yes, but I cannot," answered Mordaunt.
21—2
3?4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Oh ! as to you, that is not my concern, and I shall sup either
with or without your permission."
The young man's eyes kindled a little, but he restrained himself.
" Just as you please, gentlemen, provided we set sail," he said.
" The name of your ship ?" inquired DAxtagnan.
"The Standard."
"Very well; in half an hour we shall be on board." And the
friends, spurring on their horses, rode to the hotel, the ""Arms of
England," where they supped with hearty appetite, and then at
once proceeded to the port.
There they found a brig ready to set sail, upon the deck of
which they recognised Mordaunt, walking up and down im-
patiently.
" It is singular," said D'Artagnan, whilst the boat was taking
them to the Standard, " it is astonishing how that young man
resembles some one whom I have known—but whom I cannot name."
A few minutes later they were on board; but the embarkation
of horses was a longer matter than that of the men, and it was
eight o'clock before they raised the anchor.
CHAPTER LIII.
the scotchman".
And now our readers must leave the Standard to sail peaceably,
not towards London, where D'Artagnan and Porthos believed they
were going, but to Durham, whither Mordaunt had been ordered
to repair by the letter he had received during his sojurn at Bou-
logne, and accompany us to the Royalist camp, on this side of the
Tyne, near Newcastle.
There, placed between two rivers on the borders of Scotland,
but still on English soil, were the tents of a little army extended.
It was midnight. Some Highlanders were carelessly keeping watch.
The moon, which was partially obscured by two heavy clouds, now
and then lit up the muskets of the sentinels, or silvered the walls,
the roofs, and the spires of the town that Charles I. had just sur-
rendered to the parliamentary troops, whilst Oxford and Newark
still held out for him, in the hopes of coming to some arrangement.
At one of the extremities of the camp, near an immense tent, in
which the Scottish officers were holding a kind of council, presided
over by Lord Leven, lay their commander, a man attired as a
!ti/e scotciJmaA'.
tavalier, sleeping on the turf, his right hand extended ever his
sword.
About fifty paces off, another young man, also apparelled as a
cavalier, was talking to a Scotch sentinel, and, though a foreigner,
he seemed to understand, without much difficulty, the answers
given him in broad Perthshire dialect.
As the town clock of Newcastle struck one the sleeper awoke,
and, with all the gestures of a man rousing himself out of a deep
sleep, he looked attentively about him. Perceiving that he was
alone, he rose, and making a little circuit, passed close to the
young man who was speaking to the sentinel. The former had, no
doubt, finished his questions, for a moment after he said good-night,
and carelessly followed the same path taken by the first cavalier.
In the shadow of a tent the former was awaiting him.
" Eh bien, mon cher ami," said he, in as pure French as has
ever been uttered between Kouen and Tours. " Eh bien, mon
ami; there is not a moment to lose; w,e must let the king know
immediately."
" Why, what is the matter ?"
" It is too long to tell you; besides, you wish to hear it all
directly, and the least word dropped here might ruin all. We
must go and find Lord Winter."
They both set off to the other end of the camp, but as it did not
cover more than a surface of five hundred feet, they quickly arrived
at the tent they were looking for.
"Tony, is your master sleeping?" said one of the two cavaliers
to a servant who was lying in the outer compartment, which served
as a kind of ante-room.
" No, Monsieur le Comte," answered the servant, "I think not;
or at least, he has not long been so, for he was pacing up and
down for more than two hours after he left the king, and the
sound of his footsteps has only ceased during the last ten minutes;
however, you may look and see," added the lacquey, raising the
curtained entrance of the tent.
As he had said, Lord Winter was seated near an aperture, ar-
ranged as a window to let in the night air, his eyes .mechanically
following the course of the moon, hidden, as we before observed,
by heavy black clouds. The two friends approached Winter, who,
leaning his head on his hand, was gazing at the heavens : he did
not hear them enter, and remained in the same attitude till he felt
a hand placed on his shoulder.
He turned round, recognised Athos and Aramis, and held out
his hand to them.-
3=3
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Have you observed," said he to them, " what a blood-red
colour the moon is to-night ?"
" No," replied Athos; " I thought she looked much the same as
usual."
" Look again, chevalier," returned Lord Winter.
" I must own," said Aramis, " I am like the Count de la Fere,
I cannot see anything remarkable about it."
" My lord," said Athos, " in a position so precarious as ours, we
must examine the earth, and not the heavens. Have you studied
our Scotch troops, and have you confidence in them ?"
" The Scotch ?" inquired Winter. " What Scotch ?"
" Ours ! Egad !" exclaimed Athos. " Those to whom the king
has confided Lord Leven's Highlanders."
" No," said Winter, then he paused; " but tell me, can you not
perceive the roseate tint which covers the heavens ?"
" Not the least in the world," said Aramis and Athos at once.
" Tell me," continued Winter, always possessed by the same
idea, " is there not a tradition in France that Henry IV., the
evening before the day he was assassinated, when he was playing
at chess with M. de Bassompierre, saw spots of blood on the chess-
board."
" Yes," said Athos, " and the Marechal has often told me so
himself."
" Then it was so," murmured Winter, " and the next day Henry
IV. was killed."
" But what has this vision of Henry IV. to do with you, my
lord ?" inquired Aramis.
"Nothing; and, indeed, I am mad to amuse you with such
things, when your coming to my tent at such an hour announces
that you are the bearers of important news."
" Yes, my lord," said Athos. " I wish to speak to the king."
"To the king ! but the king is asleep."
" I have something important to reveal to him."
" Cannot that be put off till to-morrow ?"
" He must know it this moment; and, perhaps, it is already too
late."
" Come, then," said Lord Winter.
Lord Winter's tent was pitched by the side of the royal one; a
kind of corridor communicating between the two. This corridor
was guarded, not by a sentinel, but by a confidential servant,
through whom in any case of urgency Charles could communicate
instantly with his faithful subject.
" These gentlemen are with me," said Winter. '
THE SCOTCHMAN.
327
The lacquey bowed and let them pass. As he had said, on a
camp-bed, dressed in his black doublet, booted, unbelted, with
his felt hat beside him, lay the king, overcome by sleep and
fatigue. They advanced, and Athos, who was first to enter, gazed
a moment in silence on that pale and noble face, encircled by his
long and matted dark hair, the blue veins showing through his
transparent skin; his eyes seemingly swollen by tears.
Athos sighed deeply; the sigh awoke the king—so lightly did
he sleep.
He opened his eyes.
" Ah!" said he, raising himself on his elbow, " is it you, Count
de la Fere ?"
"Yes, sire," replied Athos.
" You were watching me while I slept, and you come to bring
me some news ?"
" Alas! sire," answered Athos, " your majesty has guessed
rightly."
" Then it is bad news ?"
"Yes, sire."
" Never mind ! the messenger is welcome, and you never come
here without giving me pleasure. You, whose devotion recognises
neither country nor misfortune—you, who are sent to me by Hen-
rietta; whatever news you bring, speak out."
"Sire, Cromwell has arrived this night at Newcastle."
" Ah !" exclaimed the king, " to fight ?"
" No, sire, but to purchase your majesty !"
" What did you say ?"
" I said, sire, that he owes four hundred thousand pounds to the
Scottish army."
"For unpaid wages—yes, I know it. For the last year my
faithful Highlanders have fought for honour alone."
Athos smiled.
" Well, sire ! although honour is a fine thing, they are tired of
fighting for it, and to-night they have sold you for two hundred
thousand pounds—that is to say, the half of what is owing to
them."
" Impossible !" cried the king; " the Scotch sell their king for
two hundred thousand pounds? and who is the Judas who has
concluded this infamous bargain ?"
" Lord Leven."
" Are you certain of it, sir ?"
" I heard it with my own ears."
The king sighed deeply, as if his heart would break, and then
buried his face in his hands.
32S
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Oh"! the Scotch," he exclaimed—"the Scotch that I called
'my faithful,' to whom I trusted myself, when I could have fled
to Oxford—the Scotch !—my countrymen—the Scotch ! my
brothers ! But are you well assured of it, sir ?"
" Lying behind the tent of Lord Leven, I raised it, and saw all
—heard all!"
" And when is this to be consummated ?"
"To-day, in the morning; so your majesty must perceive there
is no time to lose !"
"To do what ? since you say I am sold."
"To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland, rejoin Lord Montrose, who
will not sell you."
" And what shall I do in Scotland ? a war of partizans, unworthy
of a king."
"Robert Brace's example will absolve you, sire."
"No! no, I have fought too long; they have sold me, they
shall give me up, and the eternal shame of their treason shall fall
on their heads."
"Sire," said Athos, "perhaps a king should act thus, but not a
husband and a father. I have come in the name of your wife and
daughter and two other children you have still in London, and I
say to you, ' Live, sire, God wills it!'"
The. king raised himself, buckled on his belt, and passing his
handkerchief over his moist forehead, said,—
" Well, what is to be done ?"
" Sire, you have in the army only one regiment on which you
may rely."
" Winter," said the king, " do you believe in the fidelity of
yours ?"
" Sire, they are but men, and men are become both weak and
wicked. I will not answer for them. I would confide my life to
them, but I should hesitate ere I confided to them that of your •
majesty."
"Well !" said Athos, "since you have not a regiment, we are
three devoted men, we are enough. Let your majesty mount on
horseback, and place yourself in the midst of us, and we will cross
the Tyne, reach Scotland, and you are saved."
" Is this your counsel also, Winter ?" inquired the king.
" Yes, sire !"
" And yours, Monsieur d'Herblay ?"
"Yes, sire!"
"As you wish, then. Winter, give all the necessary orders."
Winter left the tent; in the meantime the king finished his
THE SCOTCHMAN.
toilette. The first rays of daybreak penetrated through the aper-
tures of the tent as Winter re-entered it.
" All is ready, sire," said he.
" For us also?" enquired Athos.
" Grimaud and Blaisois are holding your horses, ready saddled."
" In that case," exclaimed Athos, " let us not lose an instant
in setting off."
" Come," added the king.
" Sire," said Aramis, " will not your majesty acquaint some of
your friends of this ?"
" My friends !" answered Charles, sadly, "I have but three—one
of twenty years, who has never forgotten me, and two of a week's
standing, whom I shall never forget. Come, gentlemen, come."
The king quitted his tent, and found his horse ready waiting for
him. It was a chestnut that the king had ridden for three years,
and of which he was very fond.
The horse neighed with delight at seeing him.
" Ah f' said the king, " I was unjust, here is a creature that
loves me. You, at least, will be faithful to me, Arthur."
The horse, as if it had understood those words, bent its red
nostrils towards the king's face, and parting its lips, displayed all
its white teeth as if with pleasure.
"Yes, yes," said the king, caressing it with his hand, "yes, my
Arthur, thou art a good creature.".
After this little scene, Charles threw himself into the saddle, and,
turning to Athos, Aramis, and Winter, said :
" Now, gentlemen, I am at your service."
But Athos was standing with his eyes fixed on a black line which
bordered the banks of the Tyne, and seemed to extend double the
length of the camp.
" What is that line ?" cried Athos, whose vision was still rather
obscured by the uncertain light of daybreak. " What is that line ?
I did not perceive it yesterday."
" It must be the fog rising from the river," said the king.
" Sire, it is something more opaque than the fog."
"Indeed," said Winter. "It appears to me like a bar of red
colour."
" It is the enemy, who have made a sortie from Newcastle, and
are surrounding us !" exclaimed Athos.
" The enemy !" cried the king.
" Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Stop a moment; does n6t
that sunbeam yonder, just by the side of the town, glitter on the
Ironsides ?"
33°
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
This is the name given to the cuirassiers whom Cromwell had
made his body-guard.
" Ah!" said the king, " we shall soon prove whether my high-
landers have betrayed me or not."
" What are you going to do ?" exclaimed Athos.
"To give them the order to charge, and run down these miser-
able rebels."
And the king, putting spurs to his horse, set off to the tent of
Lord Leven.
" Follow him," said Athos.
" Come !" exclaimed Aramis.
" Is the king wounded ?" cried Lord Winter. " I see spots of
blood on the ground,"—and he set off to follow the two friends.
He was stopped by Athos.
" Go and call out your regiment," said he, " I can foresee that
we shall have need of it directly."
Winter turned his horse, and the two friends rode on. It had
taken but two minutes for the king to reach the tent of the Scottish
commander; he dismounted and entered.
" The king !" they exclaimed, as they all rose in bewilderment.
Charles was indeed in the midst of them; his hat on his head,
his brows bent, striking his boot with his riding-whip.
" Yes, gentlemen, the king in person, the king who has come to
ask some account of all that has happened."
" What is it, sire ?" exclaimed Lord Leven.
" It is, sir," said the king angrily, " that General Cromwell has
arrived at Newcastle; that you knew it, and I have not been in-
formed of it; that the enemy have left the town, and are now
closing the passages" of the Tyne against us; that our sentinels
have seen this movement, and I have been left unacquainted
with it. It is that, by an infamous treaty, you have sold me for
two hundred thousand pounds to the parliament. Of this treaty
at least I have been warned. This is the matter, gentlemen;
answer and exculpate yourselves, for I stand here to accuse you."
" Sire," said Lord Leven, with hesitation, " sire, your majesty
has been deceived by a false report."
" My own eyes have seen the enemy extend itself between
myself and Scotland. With my own ears I have heard the clauses
of the treaty debated."
The Scotch chieftains looked at each other in their turn with
frowning brows.
" Sire," murmured Lord Leven, crushed down by shame; "sire,
we are ready to give you every proof of our fidelity."
THE SCOTCHMAN.
33*
u I ask but one," said the king; " put the army in battle array
and face the enemy."
" That cannot be, sire," said the earl.
" How—cannot be ? and what hinders it ?" exclaimed Charles.
" Your majesty is well aware that there is a truce between us
and the English army."
"And if there is a truce, the English army has broken it in
leaving the town, contrary to the agreement which kept it there.
Now, I tell you, you must pass with me through this army across
to Scotland, and if you refuse, you may choose between two
names—which the contempt of all honest men will brand you with,
you are either cowards or traitors !"
The eyes of the Scotch flashed fire; and, as often happens on
such occasions, from shame they passed to extreme effrontery, and
two heads of clans advanced towards the king.
" Yes," said they, " we have promised to deliver Scotland and
England from him who for the last five-and-twenty years has
sucked the blood and gold of Scotland and England. We have
promised, and we will keep our promise. Charles Stuart, you are
our prisoner."
And both extended their hands as if to seize the king; but
before they could touch him with the tips of their fingers both had
fallen—one dead and the other stunned.
Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the first,
and Athos had knocked down the other with the butt-end of his
pistol.
Then, as Lord Leven and the other chieftains retired, alarmed
at this unexpected succour, which seemed to fall from heaven
for him whom they believed already their prisoner, Athos and
Aramis dragged the king from the perjured assembly, into which
he had so imprudently ventured, and throwing themselves on
horseback, all three returned at full gallop to the royal tent.
On their road they perceived Lord Winter marching at the
head of his regiment. The king motioned him to accompany
them.
CHAPTER LIV.
the avenger.
They all four entered the tent; they had no plan ready—they
jttiust think of one.
The king threw himself into an arm-chair. " I am lostsaid ha
332
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" No, sire," replied Athos; "you are only betrayed."
The king sighed deeply.
" Betrayed ! yes—betrayed by the Scotch, amongst whom I was
born; whom I have always loved better than the English. Oh,
traitors that ye are !"
" Sire," said Athos, " this is not a moment for recrimination,
but a time to show yourself a king and a gentleman. Up, sire,
up ! for you have here at least three men who will not betray you.
Ah ! if we had been five !" murmured Athos, thinking of D'Ar-
tagnan and Porthos.
"What are you saying?" inquired Charles, rising.
" I said, sire, there is more* than one thing open. Lord Winter
answers for his regiment, or at least very nearly so—we will not
split straws about words—let him place himself at the head of
his men, we will. place ourselves at the side of your majesty, and
let us cut through Cromwell's army, and reach Scotland."
" There is another method," said Aramis. " Let one of us put
on the dress, and mount the king's horse. Whilst they pursue
him the king might escape."
" It is good advice," said Athos, " and if the king will do us the
honour, we shall be truly grateful to him."
" What do you think of this counsel, Winter ?" asked the king,
looking with admiration at these two men, whose chief idea seemed
to be how they could take on their own shoulders all the dangers
which threatened him.
. "I think that the only chance of saving your majesty has just
been proposed by Monsieur d'Herblay. I humbly entreat your
majesty to choose quickly, for we have not a moment to
lose."
" But if I accept, it is death, or at least imprisonment, for him
who takes my place."
"It is the glory of having saved his king," cried Winter.
The king looked at his old friend with tears in his eyes, undid
the order of the Saint-Esprit which he wore, to honour the two
Frenchmen who were with him, and passed it round Winter's neck,
who received, on his knees, this striking proof of his sovereign's
confidence and friendship.
"It is right," said Athos; "he has served your majesty longer
than we have."
The king overheard these words, and turned round, with tears
in his eyes.
" Wait a moment, sirs," said he; " I have an order for each of
you also."
THE AVENGER.
333
He ttirned to a closet where his own orders were locked up,
and took out two ribbons of the Order of the Garter.
" These cannot be for us ?" said Athos.
" Why not, sir ?" asked Charles.
"Such are for royalty, and we are simple commoners."
"Speak not of .crowned heads. I shall not find amongst them
.such great hearts as yours. No, no—you do yourselves injustice;
but I am here to do justice to you. On your knees, count."
Athos knelt down, and the king passed the ribbon from left to
right as usual, and said : " I make you a knight. Be brave,
faithful, and loyal. You are brave, faithful, and loyal. I knight
you, Monsieur le Comte."
Then, turning to Aramis, he said :
"It is now your turn, Monsieur le Chevalier."
The same ceremony recommenced, with the same words, whilst
Winter unlaced his leather cuirass, that he might disguise himself
like the king. Charles, having ended with Aramis the same as
Athos, embraced them both.
" Sire," said Winter, who in this trying emergency felt all his
strength and energy fire up, "we are ready."
The king looked at the three gentlemen, " Then we must fly!"
said he.
" Fly through an army, sire ?" said Athos.
"Then I shall die sword in hand," said Charles. "Monsieur
le Comte, Monsieur le Chevalier, if ever I am king "
" Sire, you have already honoured us more than simple gentle-
men could ever aspire to, therefore gratitude is on our side. But
we must not lose time; we have already wasted too much."
The king again shook hands with all three, exchanged hats with
Winter, and went out.
' Winter's regiment was ranged on some high ground above the
camp. The king, followed by the three friends, turned his steps
that way. The Scotch camp seemed as if at last awakened; the
soldiers had come out of their tents, and taken up their station in
battle array.
" Do you see that?" said the king. "Perhaps they are penitent,
and preparing to march."
"If they are penitent," said Athos, "let them follow us."
"Well!" said the king, "what shall we do?"
" Let us examine the enemy's army."
At the same instant the eyes of the little group were nxed on
the same line which at daybreak they had mistaken for fog, and
which the morning sun now plainly showed was an army in order
334
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
of battle. The air was soft and clear, as it always is at this hour
of the morning. The regiments, the standards, and even the
colours of the horses and uniforms were now clearly distinct.
On the summit of a rising ground, a little in advance of the
enemy, appeared a short and heavy ^looking man; this man was
surrounded by officers. He turned a spy-glass towards the little
group amongst which the king stood.
"Does this man know your majesty personally?" inquired
Aramis.
Charles smiled.
" That man is Cromwell !" said he.
"Ah !" said Athos, "how much time we have lost."
"Now," said the king, "give the word, and let us start."
" Will you not give it, sire ?" asked Athos.
" No ; I make you my lieutenant-general," said the king.
" Listen, then, Lord Winter. Proceed sire, I beg. What we
are going to say does not concern your majesty."
The king, smiling, turned a few steps back.
" This is what I propose to do," said Athos. " We will divide
our regiment into two squadrons. You will put yourself at the
head of the first; we and his majesty at the head of the second.
If no obstacle occurs, we will both charge together, force the
enemy's line, and throw ourselves into the Tyne, which we must
cross, either by fording or swimming; if, on the contrary, any
repulse should take place, you and your men must fight to the
last man, whilst we and the king proceed on our road. Once
arrived at the brink of the river, should we even find them three
ranks deep, as long as you and your regiment do your duty, we
will look to the rest."
"To horse !" said Lord Winter.
"To horse !" re-echoed Athos; "all is arranged and decided."
"Now, gentlemen," cried the king, "forward! and rally to the
old cry of France—Montjoy and St. Denis. The war-cry of
England is too often in the mouths of those traitors."
The Scotch army stood motionless and silent with shame on
viewing these preparations.
Some of the chieftains left the ranks, and broke their swords in
two.
"There," said the king, "that consoles me; they are not all
traitors."
At this moment Winter's voice was raised with the cry of
" Forward !"
The first squadron moved off; the second followed it, and
THE AVENGER.
335
descended from the platform, A regiment of cuirassiers, nearly
equal as to numbers, issued from behind the hill, and came full
gallop towards it.
The king pointed this out.
" Sire," said Athos, " we foresaw this, and if Lord Winter's men
do their duty, we are saved instead of lost."
At this moment they heard, above all the galloping and neighing
of the horses, Winter's voice prying out:
" Sword in hand."
At these words every sword was drawn, and glittered in the air
like lightning. t
"Now, gentlemen," said the king in his turn, excited by this
sight, and the sound of it, " come, gentlemen, sword in hand."
But Aramis and Athos were the only ones to obey this command,
and the king's example.
"We are betrayed," said the king, in a low voice.
" Wait a moment," said Athos, " perhaps they do not recognise
your majesty's voice, and await the order of their captain."
" Have they not heard that of their colonel ? But look ! look !"
cried the king, drawing up his horse with a sudden jerk, which
threw it back on its haunches, and seizing the bridle of Athos'
horse.
" Ah, cowards ! ah, traitors !" cried out Lord Winter, whose voice
they heard, whilst his men, quitting their ranks, dispersed all over
the plain.
About fifteen men were ranged around him, and awaited the
charge of Cromwell's cuirassiers.
" Let us go and die with them !" said the king.
" Let us go," said Athos and Aramis.
" All faithful hearts with me !" cried out Winter.
This voice was heard by the two friends, who set off at full
gallop.
"No quarter," cried out a voice in French, answering to that of
Winter, which made them tremble.
It was the voice of a cavalier mounted on a magnificent black
horse, who was charging at the head of the English regiment, of
which, in his ardour, he was ten steps in advance.
"'Tis him !" murmured Winter; his eyes glazed, and letting his
sword fall to his side.
" The king ! the king !" cried out several voices, deceived by the
blue ribbon, and chestnut horse of Winter; "take him alive."
"No! it is not the king!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Lord
Winter, you are not the king; you are my uncle."
335' TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
At the same moment Mordaunt, for it was he, cocked his pistol
at Winter, the fire flashed, and the ball entered the heart of the old
cavalier, who, with one bound on his saddle, fell back into the arms
of Athos, murmuring, "He is revenged."
" Think of my mother !" shouted Mordaunt, as his horse plunged
and darted off at full gallop.
" Wretch !" exclaimed Aramis, raising his pistol, as he passed by
him; but the fire flashed in the pan, and did not go off.
At this moment the whole regiment came up, and they fell upon
the few men who had held out, surrounding the two Frenchmen.
Athos, after making sure that Lord Winter was really dead, let fall,
the corpse, and said :
" Come, Aramis, now for the honour of France," arid the two
Englishmen, who were nearest to them, fell mortally wounded.
At the same moment a fearful " hurrah !" rent the air, and thirty
blades glittered above their heads.
Suddenly a man sprang out of the English ranks, fell upon Athos,
entwined his muscular arms around him, and tearing his sword from
him, said in his ear:
" Silence ! yield yourself—you yield to me; do you not ?"
A giant had seized also Aramis' two wrists, who struggled in vain
to release himself from this formidable grasp.
" D'Art . . . ." exclaimed Athos, whilst the Gascon covered his
mouth with his hand.
" I yield myself prisoner, said Aramis," giving up his sword to
Porthos.
"Fire, fire," cried out Mordaunt, .returning to the group of;
friends.
" And wherefore fire ?" said the colonel; " every one has yielded."
" It is the son of Milady," said Athos to D'Artagnan, " I recog-
nised him."
" It is the monk," whispered Porthos to Aramis.
" I know it."
And now the ranks began to open. D'Artagnan held the bridle
of Athos' horse, and Porthos that of Aramis. Both of them at-
tempted to lead his prisoner off the battle-field.
This movement revealed the spot where Winter's body had
fallen. Mordaunt had found it out, and was gazing at it with an
expression of hatred.
Athos, though now quite cool and collected, put his hand to his
belt, where his loaded pistols still remained.
" What are you about ?" said D'Artagnan,
" Let me kill him,"
THE A VEHGEE.
337
"We are all four'lost, if, by the least gesture, you discover that
you recognise him."
Then, turning to the young man, he exclaimed :
" A fine prize ! a fine prize, friend Mordaunt; we have, both
myself and Monsieur de Valon, taken two knights of the garter,
nothing less."
"But," said Mordaunt, looking at Athos and Aramis with
bloodshot eyes, "these are Frenchmen, I imagine."
"I'faith, I don't know. Are you French, sir?" said he to Athos.
" I am," replied the latter gravely.
" Very well, my dear sir ! you are the prisoner of a fellow
countryman."
" But the king—where is the king ?" exclaimed Athos anxiously.
"Ah ! we have got him."
"Yes," said Aramis, "through an infamous act of treason."
Porthos pressed his friend's hand, and said to him :
" Yes, sir, all is fair in war—stratagem as well as force. Look
yonder !"
At this instant the squadron—that ought to have protected
Charles's retreat—-was advancing to meet the English regiments.
The king, who was entirely surrounded, walked alone on foot.
He appeared calm, but it was evidently not without a great effort.
Drops of perspiration rolled down his face; and from time to time
he put a handkerchief to his mouth, to wipe off the blood that
flowed from it.
" Behold Nebuchadnezzar !" exclaimed an old Puritan soldier,
whose eyes flashed at the sight of one whom he called the tyrant.
" Do you call him Nebuchadnezzar?" said Mordaunt, with a
terrible smile ; " no, it is Charles the First, the king, the good king
Charles, who despoils his subjects to enrich himself."
Charles glanced a moment at the insolent creature who uttered
this, but he did not recognise him. Nevertheless, the calm and
religious dignity of his countenance abashed Mordaunt.
" Bon jour, messieurs," said the king to the two gentlemen who
were held by D'Artagnan and Porthos. " The day has been unfor-
tunate, but it is not your fault, thank God! But where is my old
friend, Winter ?"
The two gentlemen turned away their heads in silence.
" Look for him with Strafford," said Mordaunt tauntingly.
Charles shuddered. The demon had known how to wound him.
The remembrance of Strafford was a source of lasting remorse to
him, the shadow that haunted him by day and night. The king
looked around him. Fie saw a corpse at his feet: it was Winter's.
22
338 TWENTY YEARS AETER.
He uttered not a word nor shed a tear, but a deadly pallor spread
over his face : he knelt down on the ground, raised Winter's head,
and unfastening the order of the Saint-Esprit, placed it on his own
breast.
" Lord Winter is killed, then ?" inquired D'Artagnan, fixing his
eyes on the corpse.
"Yes," said Athos, "by his own nephew."
" Come, he was the first of us to go; peace be to him ! he was
an honest man," said D'Artagnan.
" Charles Stuart," said the colonel of the English regiment, ap-
proaching the king, who had just put on the insignia of royalty,
"do you yield yourself a prisoner?"
" Colonel Tomlinson," said Charles, " the king cannot yield !
the man alone submits to force."
"Your sword."
The king drew his sword and broke it on his knee.
At this moment a horse without a rider, covered with foam, his
nostrils extended, and eyes all fire, galloped past, and recognising
his master, stopped and neighed with pleasure; it was Arthur.
The king smiled, patted it with his hand, and then jumped
lightly into the saddle.
" Now, gentlemen," said he, " conduct me where you will."
Turning back again, he said, "I thought I saw Winter move;
if he still lives, by all you hold most sacred, do not abandon
him."
"Never fear, King Charles," said Mordaunt, "the ball pierced
his heart."
"Do not breathe a word, nor make the least sign to me or
Portho^," said D'Artagnan to Athos and Arami's> " that you recog-
nise this man, for Milady is not dead ; her soul lives in the body
of this demon."
The detachment now moved towards the town with the royal
captive; but on the road an arde-de-camp from Cromwell sent
orders that Colonel Tomlinson should conduct him to Holdenby
Castle.
At the same time couriers started in every direction over Eng-
lan'd and Europe, to announce that Charles Stuart was now the
prisoner of Oliver Cromwell.
OLIVER CROMWELL.
339
CHAPTER LV.
oliver cromwell.
" Have you been to the general ?" said Mordaunt to D'Artagnan
and Porthos; "you know he sent for you after the action "
"We went first to put our prisoners in a place of safety," replied
D'Artagnan. " Do you know, sir, these gentlemen are each of
them worth fifteen hundred pounds?"
" Oh ! be assured," said Mordaunt, looking at them with an ex-
pression he in vain endeavoured to soften, "my soldiers will guard
them—and guard them well, I promise you."
"I shall take better care of them myself," answered D'Artagnan;
" besides, all they require is a good room, with sentinels, from
which their parole is enough that they will not attempt to escape.
I will go and see about that, and then we shall have the honour
of presenting ourselves to your general, and receiving his commands
for his Eminence.
"You are thinking of starting soon, then ?" inquired Mordaunt.
Our mission is ended, and there is nothing more to retain us
now but the good pleasure of the great man to whom \ye-have
been sent."
The young man bit his lips, and whispering to his sergeant:
" You will follow these men, and not lose sight of them ; when
you have discovered where they lodge, come and await me at the
town gate."
The sergeant made a sign that he should be obeyed.
Instead of following the mass of prisoners that were being taken
into the town, Mordaunt turned his steps towards the rising ground
from whence Cromwell had witnessed the battle, and on which he
bad just had his tent pitched.
Cromwell had given orders that no one was to enter it; but the
sentinel, who knew that Mordaunt was one of the most confiden-
tial friends of the general, thought the order did not extend to
the young man. Mordaunt, therefore, raised the canvas, and saw
Cromwell seated before a table, his head buried in his hands; his
back was turned to him.
Whether he heard Mordaunt or not as he entered, Cromwell
did not move Mordaunt remained standing near the door. At
last, after a few moments, Cromwell raised his head, and, as if he
divined that some one was there, he turned slowly round.
" I said 1 wished to be alone !" he exclaimed, on seeing the
young man.
22—2
340
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
'." They thought this order did not concern me, sir; nevertheless,
if you wish it, I am ready to go."
" Ah ! it is you, Mordaunt!" said Cromwell, the cloud passing
away from over his face; " since you are here, it is well, you may
remain."
"I come to congratulate you."
" To congratulate me—what for ?"
" On the capture of Charles Stuart. You are now master of
England."
" I was much more really so two hours ago."
" How so, general ?"
" Because England had need of me to take the tyrant, and now
the tyrant is taken. Have you seen him ?"
"Yes, sir," said Mordaunt.
What is his bearing ?"
Mordaunt hesitated; but he seemed as if compelled to speak
the truth.
" Calm and dignified," said he.
" What did he say?"
"Some parting words to his friends."
" His friends !" murmured Cromwell. "Has he any friends?"
Then he added aloud, " Did he make any resistance ?"
" No, sir ; with the exception of two or three friends, every one
deserted him ; he had no means of resistance."
" To whom did he give up his sword ?"
" He did not give it up—he broke it."
" He did well; but, instead of breaking it, he might have used
it to more advantage."
There was a momentary pause.
" I heard that the colonel of the regiment that escorted Charles
was killed ?" said Cromwell, staring very fixedly at Mordaunt.
"Yes, sir."
" By whom ?" inquired Cromwell.
" By me."
" What was his name ?"
" Lord Winter."
"Your uncle?" exclaimed Cromwell.
" My uncle ?" answered Mordaunt; " but traitors to England are
not of my family."
Cromwell observed the young man a moment in silence, arid
then added :
" Mordaunt, you are strong among the strong ones.-' And the
Frenchmen, how did they behave ?"
OLIVER CROMWELL.
341
" Most fearlessly."
" Yes, yes," murmured Cromwell; " the French fight well; and
if my glass was good, and I mistake not, they were foremost in
the fight."
" They were," replied Mordaunt.
"After you, however," said Cromwell.
" It was the fault of their horses, not theirs."
Another pause,
" And the Scotch ?"
" They kept their word, and never stirred," said Mordaunt.
" Wretched men!"
" Their officers wish to see you, sir."
" I have no time for them. Have they been paid ?"
" Yes, to-night."
" Let them set off and return to their mountains, and there hide
their shame, if their mountains are high enough. I have nothing
more to do with them, or they with me. And now, go, Mordaunt."
" Before I go," said Mordaunt, " I have some questions and a
favour to ask you, sir."
" A favour from me ?"
Mordaunt bowed. ,
" I come to you, my leader, my head, my father, and I ask you,
master, are you contented with me ?"
Cromwell looked at him with astonishment. The young man
remained immovable.
" Yes," said Cromwell; "you have done, since I knew you, not
only your duty, but more than your.duty; you have been a faith-
ful friend, a clever negotiator, and a good soldier."
" Do you remember,, sir, it was my idea, the Scotch treaty, for
giving up the king ?"
" Yes, the idea was yours. I had not such a contempt for men
before that."
" Was I not a good ambassador in France ?"
" Yes, for Mazarin has granted what I desired."
" Have I not always fought for your glory and interests?"
" Too ardently, perhaps; it is what I have just reproached you
for; but what is the meaning of all these questions ?"
"To tell you, my lord, that the moment has now arrived when,
with a single word, you may recompense all these services."
" Oh !" said Oliver, with a slight curl of his lip, " I forgot that
every service merits some reward, and that up to this moment you
have served me for nothing.
" Sir, you can give me in a moment all that I look for."
343
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" What is it ? Have they offered you money ? Do you wish a
step? or some place in the government?"
" Sir, will you grant me my request ?"
" "Let us hear what it is first."
" Sir, when you have told me to obey an order, have I ever
inquired what it is first? I cannot tell you."
" But a request made so formally "
"Ah! do not fear, sir," said Mordaunt, with apparent simpli-
city, " it will not ruin you "
" Well, then," said Cromwell, " I promise, as far as lies in my
power, to grant your request. Proceed."
i' Sir, two prisoners were taken this morning; will you let me
have them ?"
"For their ransom? Have they, then, offered a large one?"
inquired Cromwell.
"On the contrary, I think they are poor, sir."
"They are friends of yours, then?"
"Yes, sir," exclaimed Mordaunt, " they are friends, dear friends
of mine, and I would lay down my life for them."
"Very well, Mordaunt," said Cromwell, pleased at having his
opinion of the young man raised once more, " I will give them to
you; T will not even ask who they are—do as you like with
them."
" Thank you, sir!" exclaimed Mordaunt, :i thank you; my life
is always at your service, and should I lose it, 1 should still oye
you something ; thank you—you have, indeed, repaid me munifi-
cently for my services
And he threw himself at the feet of Cromwell; and in spite of
the efforts of the Puritan general, who did not like this almost
kingly homage, he took his hand and kissed it.
"What!" said Cromwell, arresting him for a moment as he
rose, " is there nothing more you wish ? neither gold nor rank ?"
"You have given me all you can give me, and from to-day your
debt is paid."
And Mordaunt darted out of the general's tent, his heart beat
ing, and his eyes sparkling with joy
Cromwell gazed a moment after him.
" He has killed his uncle !" he murmured. " Alas ! what are
my servants ? Perhaps those who ask nothing, or seem to ask
nothing, have asked more in the eyes of heaven than those who
tax the country, and steal the bread of the poor. Nobody serves
me for nothing ! Charles, who is my prisoner, may still have
friends; but I have none !"
MAHOMET. 343
And with a deep-,sigh he again sank into the reverie which had
been interrupted by Mordaunt,
CHAPTER LVI,
mahomet.
Whilst Mordaunt was making his way to Cromwell's tent, D'Ar-
tagnan and Porthos had brought their prisoners to the house which
had been assigned to them, as their dwelling at Newcastle.
The two friends made the prisoners enter the house first, whilst
they stood at the door, desiring Mousqueton to take all the four
horses to the stable.
" Why don't we go in with them?" asked Poithos.
"We must first see what the sergeant wishes us to do," replied
D'Artagnan , and he then asked the sergeant his wishes.
" We have had orders." answered the man, " to help you in
taking care of your prisoners."
There could be no fault found with this arrangement; on the
contrary, it seemed to be a delicate attention to be received grate-
fully. 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 into his pocket.
"Ah !" said Porthos, "what a fearful day, my dear D'Artagnan."
"What ! a fearful day, when we have to-day found 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 very bad," 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
sensible man cannot help feeling at stupidity in every degree.
But, as Porthos on his side could not comprehend his astonish-
ment, he merely pushed him indoors, saying : "Let us go in."
They found Athos in a profound despondency. Aramis looked
first at Porthos and then at D'Artagnan, without speaking; but the
latter understood his meaning look.
344
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"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 Portbos.
"Mazarin again. Cromwell had sent him to Mazarin. Mazarin
sent us to Cromwell. There has been a fate in it. "
"Yes, you are right, D'Artagnan—a fate which will separate
and ruin us, so, my dear Aramis, say no more about it, and let
us prepare to submit to our destiny '
" Zounds ! let us speak about things, on the contrary !—for we
always agreed to keep on the same side; and here we are engaged
in conflicting parties."
" 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 con-
cerned ? In the capture of a king, in his degradation, in his death."
" 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."
" I don't say to the contrary," said D'Artagnan. " But what's
that to us? Iamhere, because I am a soldier, andhavetoobey orders;
I have taken an oath to obey, and I do obey; but you, who have
taken no oath, why are you here, and what cause do you serve ?"
" That most sacred in the world," said Athos; " the cause of
misfortune, of religion, of royalty. A friend, a wife, a daughter,
have done us the honour to call us to their aid. We have served
them to the best of our poor means, and God will recompense the
will, and forgive the want of power : you may see matters differently,
D'Artagnan, and think otherwise. I do not attempt to argue with
you, but I blame you."
" Hey-day !" 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 make me responsible for them ?"
" Why you ? Because you, D'Artagnan, a man sprung from the
ancient nobility of France, bearing a good name, carrying a 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."
MAHOMET.
345
D'Artagnan was chewing the stalk of a flower, unable to reply,
and very uncomfortable.
" And you, Porthos—you, a'gentleman in manners—in tastes—
in courage, are as much to blame as D'Artagnan."
Porthos coloured, and hanging his head, said :
"Yes, yes, my dear count, I feel that you are right."
Athos rose.
" 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 this is it—you have senti-
ments, the devil knows what, such as every one can't have. 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 cask ? The sentiments
you sport 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, " whatsoever may be, you
know, in the bottom of your heart, that it is true ; but I am com-
ing to dispute with my superiors. D'Artagnan, I am your prisoner
■—treat me as such."
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 merely exchanged with him one look, but 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 to do," said Porthos.
" 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."
In fact, looking at the place to which Athos pointed, D'Artagnan
saw a cavalier coming towards the house full gallop.
It was Mordaunt.
D'Artagnan rushed out of the room.
Borthos wanted to follow him.
34^
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Stay," said D'Artagnan, " and do not come till you hear me
beat like a drum with my fingers upon the door."
When Mordaunt arrived opposite the house he saw D'Artagnan
upon the threshold, and the soldiers lying on the grass, here and
there, with their arms.
"Hallo !" he cried, "are the prisoners still there?"
"Yes, sir," answered the sergeant, uncovering his head.
^'Tis well: order four men to conduct them to my lodging."
Four men prepared to do so.
" What do you want, sir ?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Sir," replied Mordaunt, "I have ordered the two prisoners
that 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 took them, and
not to those who only saw them taken. You might have taken
Lord Winter—who, 'tis said, is your uncle—prisoner, but you pre-
ferred killing him; 'tis well—we, that is, Monsieur de Valon and
I, could have killed our prisoners—we preferred taking them."
Mordaunt's very lips were 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 use-
less—these prisoners have just been given me by my^llustrious
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
source the ferocious hopes of the young man arose. He put his
hand to the hilt of his sword.
As to Porthos, he looked inquiringly at D'Artagnan.
This look of Porthos's made the Gascon regret that he had sum-
moned 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 his age ?"
MA HO ME 7.
" I have this instant left him,1 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 Ciomwell; 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 all acting.
Mordaunt put his foot on the first step of the door, and, with his
hat in his hand, prepared to pass by the two friends, motioning to
the four men to follow him.
"But pardon me," he said, stopping short, "since the illustrious
general has given my prisoners into your hands, he has of course
confirmed that act in writing."
Mordaunt stood still, then retreated—cast a terrible glance at
D'Artagnan, which was answered by the most amicable and friendly
mien that could be imagined.
" Speak out, sir," said Mordaunt.
" Monsieur de Valon, 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 dishonour, 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 where you wish to come to ; and if it is what
I think that stops you, I can obviate that 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 bank notes. 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."
Mordaunt, completely deceived by the wordy civility of D'Ar-
tagnan, 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,"
34-3
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Ah, sir!" said D'Artagnan, " I see that although we have had
the honour of travelling 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 I am; 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 a 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, "nothing but that
will satisfy us."
However anxious Mordaunt was to have recourse to violence, he
quite understood the reasons that D'Artagnan gave him; and,
besides, completely ignorant of the friendship which existed be-
tween the four Frenchmen, all his uneasiness disappeared when he
heard of the plausible motive of the ransom. He decided, there-
fore, 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 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 about 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 to mount them; all the rest is my
business."
Porthos made no remark, but obeyed, with the sublime confi-
dence that he had in his friend. He then proceeded, with his
usual calm gait, to the stable, and went into the very midst of the
soldiery, who, Frenchman as he was, could not help admiring his
height and the strength of his powerful limbs.
At the corner of the street he met Mousqueton and took him
with him,
Mahomet.
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 am convinced. I am
sorry to have had anything to do with this matter. As you say
Mazarin is a knave. I have resolved tckfly 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's Porthos' 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 made me see clearly; 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 ' Mahomet!' "
" 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 ' Mahomet,' we go out,
upset ail 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 the best of us
all," said Athos.
"Very true," replied the Gascon, "but I always run away from
compliments. Don't forget the signal—Mahomet !" and he went
out as he came in, whistling the air that he had been whistling
when he came in.
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 under-
derstand French, and D'Artagnan tried to make him comprehend
him by signs and gestures. Then he went into the stable; he
found the five horses and his own, among others, saddled. He
gave his instructions, and Porthos and Mousqueton went to their
post according to his directions.
3Sd
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Then D'Artagnan, being alone, struck a light and lighted a
small bit of the tinder, mounted his horse, and stopped at the
door, in the midst of the soldiers There, caressing, as he pre-
tended, the animal with his hand, he put this bit of Under, while
burning, into his ear.
It was necessary to be as good a horseman as he was to risk
such a scheme ; for hardly 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 nearly trampled upon, ran away from him.
" Help ! help !" cried D'Artagnan; " stop, my horse has the
Staggers."
In an instant blood came from his eyes, and he was white with
foam.
" Help !" cried D'Artagnan. " What! will you let me be kilted ?
By Mahomet!"
Scarcely 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 on their saddles, and lost no time, has-
tening 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 while the soldiers were calling out " Stop ! stop !" and
the sergeant, who began to see that he was the victim of an arti-
ficerwas 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.
"Tne prisoners !" he exclaimed, jumping off his horse.
The sergeant had not the courage to reply; he showed him the
open door and the empty room. Mordaunt darted to the steps—
understood all, uttered a cry as if his very heart were pierced, and
fell fainting on the stone steps.
NOBLE NATURES NEVER LOSE TLIE/R COURAGE. 3$!
CHAPTER LVIL
in which it is shown that under the most trying clr;
cumst^nces noble natures never lose their courage^
nor good stomachs their appetites.
The little troop, without looking behind them, or exchanging a
single word, fled at a rapid gallop, crossing on foot 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, they rode
in the direction of it.
As soon as they had disappeared behind a green curtain suffi-
ciently thick to conceal them from the sight of any who might be
in pursuit of them, they drew up to hold a council together. The
two grooms held the horses, that they might take 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 among us all."
"Athos is right, and you have my admiration," said Aramis, in
his turn pressing his hand3 " to what are you not equal ? with
superior intelligence, and an infallible eye3 an arm of iron, and
an enterprising mind !"
"Now," said the Gascon, "that is all well, I accept for Porthos
and myself everything—thanks and embracings—we have plenty
of time to lose."
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 3 but we must arrange some plan. 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 sea-port, 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 is only held by a thread."
" What do you say to this, De Valon ?" .
" I," said Porthos—" I am entirely of D'Artagnan's opinion3
this is a beastly country—this England."
TWENTY YFARS AFTFR.
" You are quite decided then to leave it ?" agked Athos ot
D'Artagnan
" Egad ! I don't see what is to keep me here."
A glance was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
" Go, then, niy 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 un-
expected announcement.
" Bah !" said Porthos, " why separate, since we are all together?"
" Because you can, and you 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 xMhos.
"No, my good fellow," 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 two 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, is about to be tried on his arrival in London ; I have heard
enough from the lips of Mr. Oliver Cromwell to know what to expect."
A second look was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
" And when his trial is ended, there will be no delay in putting
the sentence into execution," continued DArtagnan.
"And to what penalty do you think the king will be condemned?"
asked Athos.
" To the penalty of death, I much 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. Do you not know Oliver C'ronv
well's speech when he came to Paris, and when he was shown tho
dungeon at Vincennes where Monsieur de Vendome was im-
prisoned ?"
" What was the speech ?" asked Porthos.
" Princes must be knocked on the head."
"I remember it," said Athos.
NOBLE NATURES NEPER LOSE TILEIR COURAGE. 353
"And you fancy he will not put his maxim into execution, now
that he has hold of the king ?'
"On the conttary, 1 am certain he will do so; but then there
is the more reason why we must not abandon the 'august head so
threatened,
" Athos, you arc becoming. mad."
" Well, you know beforehand that you must perish !" said D'Ar-
tagnan,
" We fear so, and our only regret is, to die so far from you both."
"What will you do in a ioreign land—an enemy's country?"
"'I have travelled in England when 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'Ar-
tagnan, with you, Porthos—all four, and reunited for the first time
for twenty years—we would dare, not only England, but the three
kingdoms together!"
"And did you promise the queen," resumed D'Artagnan, petu-
lantly, "to storm the Tower of London with a hundred thousand
soldiers, to fight victoriously against the wishes of a nation and the
ambition of a man, and when that man is called 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,1 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 unchangeable."
" Then you have some other motive unknown to us ?"
Athos smiled, and D'Artagnan struck his heels 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 the fine weather comes after a fog,
and a fog after rain—and the rain after the 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."
23
354
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Only reflect, my good fellow," said Athos, " it is but dying
rather sooner.''
" Pooh! a little sooner, or a little later, that isn't worth quar-
relling about."
" But your future career, D'Artagnan ?—your ambition, Pbr-
thos ?"
" 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.
"Well ! then," said Athos, offering his hand to D'Artagnan.
" 'Tis settled," replied D'Artagnan. " I find England a charming
country, and I stay—but only on one condition."
" What is it ?"
" That I am not forced to learn English !"
" Well then, now," said Athos, triumphantly, " I swear to you,
my friend, by the God who hears us, I believe that there is a power
watching over us, and I hope we shall all four meet in France."
" So be it !" said D'Artagnan, " but I—I confess I have quite a
contrary conviction."
" Our good D'Artagnan," said Aramis, " represents among us
the opposition in parliameht, which says always no, and does
always aye."
" But which in the meantime saves the country," added Athos.
"Well, now that everything is decided," cried Porthos, rubbing
his hands, " suppose we think of dinner ! It seems to me that in
the most critical positions of our lives we have always dined."
" Oh ! yes, speak of dinner in a country where for a feast they
eat boiled mutton, and where as a treat they drink beer. What
the devil did you come to such a country for, Athos ?"
"But, I forgot," added the Gascon, smiling, "pardon, I forgot
you are no longer Athos; but never mind, let us hear your plan
for dinner, Porthos."
" My plan!"
" Yes; have you a plan ?"
" No ! I am hungry, that is all."
" Pardieu, if that is all, I am hungry too; but it is hOt every-
thing to be hungry; one must find something to eat, unless we
browse on the grass, like our horses "
NOLLE NATURES NEVER LOSE THEIR COURAGE. 355
" Ah !" exclaimed Aramis, who was not quite so indifferent to
the good things of the earth as Athos, " do you remember, when
we were at Gravesend, the beautiful oysters that we ate ?"
" And the legs of mutton of the salt marshes," said Porthos,
smacking his lips.
"But," suggested D'Artagnan, "have we not our friend Mous-
queton, he who managed for us so well at Chantilly, Porthos ?"
" By the bye," said Borthos, " have we Mousqueton, but since
he has been steward, he has become very heavy; never mind, let
us call him : and to make sure that he will reply agreeably—
Here ! Mouston," cried Porthos.
Mouston appeared, with a very piteous face.
" What is the matter, my dear Mr. Mouston?" asked D Artagnan.
"Are you ill?"
" Sir, I am very hungry !" replied Mouston.
" Well, it is just for that reason that we have cailed you, my
good Mr. Mouston. Could you not procure us a few of those
nice little rabbits and some of those delicious partridges, of which
you used to make fricassees at the hotel ? Faith, I do not re-
member the name of the hotel."
" At the hotel of—•—,* said Porthos, " by my faith—nor do I
remember it either."
" It does not matter; and a few of those bottles of old Burgundy
wine, which cured your master so quickly of his sprain !"
" Alas ! sir," said Mousqueton, " I much fear that what you ask
for are very rare things in this frightful country, and I think we
should do better to go and seek hospitality from the owner of a
little house that we see at the extremity of the wood."
■ " How! is there a house in the neighbourhood ?" asked
D'Artagnan.
"Yes, sir !" replied Mousqueton.
" Well, let us, as you say, go and ask a dinner from the master
of that house. What is your opinion, gentlemen, and does not
Mr. Mouston's suggestion appear to you full of sense ?"
" Oh ! oh !" said Aramis, " suppose the master is a Puritan ?"
"So much the better, Mordioux!" replied D'Artagnan; " if he
is a Puritan, we will inform him of the capture of the King, .and
in honour of the news he will kill for us his white hens."
" But if he should be a cavalier ?" said Porthos.
"In that case, we will put on an air of mourning, and we will
pluck his black fowls."
"You are very happy," exclaimed Athos, laughing in spite of
23—'2
Twenty years after.
himself, at the sally of the irresistible Gascon ; " for you see the
bright side of everything.'1
<:What would you have?" said D'Artagnan. "I come from a
land where there is not a cloud in the sky."
"It is not like this, then," said Porthos, stretching out his hand
to assure himself whether a sensation of freshness which he had
just felt on his cheek was not really caused by a drop of rain.
"Come, come," said D'Artagnan, " more reason why we should
start on our journey—holloa, Grimaud !"
G-rimaud appeared.
"Well, Grimaud, my friend, have you seen anything?" asked
the Gascon.
" Nothing !" replied Grimaud.
" Those idiots !" cried Porthos. " they have not even pursued us.
Oh ! if we had been in their place !"
" Yes, they are wrong," said D'Artagnan. , " I would willingly
have said two words to Mordaunt in this little Thebes. See what
a nice place for bringing down a man properly "
"I think, decidedly," observed Aramis, ''gentlemen, that the
son is not so bad as his mother."
" What, my good fellow !" replied Athos; " wait awhile, we have
scarcely left him two hours ago—he does not know yet in what
direction we came, nor where we are. We may say that he is not
equal to his mother when we put foot in France, if we are not
poisoned nor killed before then."
"Meanwhile, let us dine," suggested Porthos.
"I' faith, yes !" said Athos, "for I am very hungry."
" Look out for the black fowls !" cried Aramis.
And the four friends, guided by Mousqueton, took up the way
towards the house, already almost restored to their former gaiety;
for they were now, as Athos had s,aid, all four umted and of
one mind.
CHAPTER LVIII.
RESPECT TO FALLEN MAJESTY.
As our fugitives approached the house, they found the ground cut
up, as if a considerable body of horsemen had preceded them.
Before the door, the traces were yet more apparent; these horse-
men, whoever they might be, had halted there.
" Egad !" cried D'Artagnan, " it's quite clear that the king and
his escort have been by here."
RESPECT TO FALLEN- MAJESTY.
He pushed open the door, and found the first room empty and
deserted.
" Well!" cried Porthos.
" I can see nobody," said D'Artagnan. " Aha !"
"What?"
"Blood!"
At this word the three friends leapt from their horses, and
entered. D'Artagnan had already opened the door, of the second
room, and, from the expression of his face, it was clear that he
there beheld some extraordinary object.
The three friends drew near, and discovered a young man
stretched on the ground, and bathed in a pool of blood. It was
evident that he had attempted to regain his bed, but had not had
the strength to do so.
Athos, who imagined that he saw him move, was the first to go
up to him.
" Well ?" inquired D'Artagnan.
" Well, if he is dead," said Athos, " he has not been so long, for
he is still warm. But no, his heart is beating. Eh! there, my
friend."
The'wounded man heaved a sigh. D'Artagnan took some water
m the hollow of his hand, and threw it upon his face. The man
opened his eyes, made an effort to raise his head, and fell back
again. The wound was in the top of the skull, and the blood was
flowing copiously.
Aramis dipped a cloth in some water, and applied it to the gash.
Again the wounded man opened his eyes, and looked in astonish-
ment at these strangers, who appeared to pity him.
"You are among friends," said Athos, in English; "so cheer
up, and tell us, if you have the strength to do so, what has
happened."
" The king," muttered the wounded man, " the king is a prisoner."
" Make your mind easy," resumed Athos, " w'e are all faithful
servants of his majesty."
" Is what you tell me true ?" asked the wounded man.
"On our honour as gentlemen."
" Then I may tell you all. I am the brother of Party, his
majesty's lackey."
Athos and Aramis remembered that this was the name by which
De Winter had called the man whom they had found in the passage
of the king's tent.
"We know him," said Athos; "he never left the king."
"Yes, that is he; well, he thought of me, wheq he saw that
358
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
the Hng was taken, and as they were passing before the house
here, Ihe begged in the king's name that they would stop, as the
king \vas hungry. They brought him into this room, and placed
sentinels at the doors and windows. Parry knew this room, as he
had often been to see me when the king was at Newcastle. He
knew j that there was a trap-door communicating with a cellar,
from which one could get into the orchard. He made me a sign,
which 11 understood, but the king's guards must have noticed it,
and p|ut themselves on their guard. I went out, as if to fetch
wood, ;passed through the subterranean passage into the cellar, and
while Parry was gently bolting the door, pushed up the board, and
beckoned to the king to follow me. Alas! he would not. But,
Parry clasped his hands and implored him, and at last he agreed.
I went on first, quite delighted. The king was a few steps behind
me, when suddenly I saw something rise up in front of me, like a
huge shadow. I wanted to cry out to warn the king, but the same
moment I felt a blow as if the house was falling on my head, and
fell insensible. When I came to myself again, I was stretched in
the same place. I dragged myself as far as the yard. The king
and his escort were gone,"
" And now what can we do for you ?" asked Athos.
" Help me to get on to the bed; that will ease me."
They helped him on to the bed, and, calling Grimaud to dress
his wound, returned to the outer room to consult.
" Now," said Aramis, " we know how the matter stands. The
king and his escort have gone this way; we had better take the
opposite direction, eh?"
" Yes," said Porthos; " if we follow the escort we shall find
everything devoured, and die of hunger. What a confounded
country this England is ! This is the first time I shall have lost
my dinner, and it's my best meal."
" What do you say about it, D'Artagnan," said Athos.
"Just the contrary to Aramis."
" What! follow the escort ?" cried Porthos, quite alarmed.
"No, but join them. They will never look for us among the
Puritans !"
"A good idea," said Athos, "they will think we want to leave
England, and seek us in the ports. Meanwhile we shall reach
London with the king, and, once there, it is not difficult to conceal
one's self."
"But," said Aramis, "sha'n't we be suspected by Colonel
Harrison?"
" Egad !" cried D'Artagnan, " he's just the man I count upon,
RESPECT TO FALLEN MAJESTY.
359
Colonel Harrison is one of our friends. We have met him twice
at General Cromwell's. He knows that we were sent from France
by Monsieur Mazarin ; he will consider us as brothers. Besides,
is he not a butcher's son ! Well, then, Porthos will show him how
to knock down an ox with a blow of the fist; and I, how to trip
up a bull by taking him by the horns, That will ensure his con-
fidence."
Athos smiled. .
At this moment Grimaud came in, He had staunched the
wound and the man was better.
The little troop recommenced their march, and, at the end of
two hours, perceived a considerable body of horsemen about half a
league ahead.
" My dear friends," said D'Artagnan, " give your swords to
Monsieur Mouston, who will return them to you in proper time
and place, and do not forget you are our prisoners."
It was not long ere they joined the escort. The king was in
the front, surrounded by troopers, and when he saw Athos and
xWamis a glow of pleasure lighted up his pale cheeks.
D'Artagnan passed to the head of the column, and, leaving his
friends under the guard of Porthos, went straight to Harrison,
who recognised him as having met him at Cromwell's, and re-
eeived him as politely as a man of his breeding and disposition
could. It turned out as D'Artagnan had foreseen. The colonel
neither had nor could have any suspicion.
They halted for the king to dine. This time, however, due
precautions were taken to prevent any attempt at escape. In the
large room of the hotel a small table was placed for him, and a
large one for the officers.
" Will you dine with me ?" asked Harrison of D'Artagnan.
" 'Gad, I should be very happy, but I have my companion,
Monsieur de Valon, and the two prisoners, whom I cannot leave.
Let us manage it better. Have a table set for us in a corner, and
hand us whatever you like from yours."
"Good," answered Harrison.
The table at which the Puritan officers were seated was round,
and whether by chance or a coarse intention, Harrison Had his
back turned to the king.
The king saw the four gentlemen come in, but appeared to take
no notice of them.
They sat down in such a manner as to turn their backs upon
nobody.
" I'faith, colonel,11 said D'Artagnan," we are very grateful for your
360
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
gracious invitation; for, without you, we ran the risk of going
without dinner, as we have without breakfast. My friend here,
Monsieur de Valon, shares my gratitude, for he was particularly
hungry."
" And I am so still," said Porthos, bowing to Harrison.
" And how," said Harrison, laughing, " did this serious calamity
of going without breakfast happen to you ?"
" In a very simple manner, colonel," said D'Artagnan. " I was
in a hurry to join you, and took the road you had already gone by.
You can understand our disappointment when, arriving at a pretty
little house on the skirts of a wood, which at a distance had quite
a gay appearance with its red roof and green • shutters, we found
nothing but a poor wretch bathed Ah ! colonel, pay my respects
to the officer of yours who struck that blow."
" Yes," said Harrison laughing, and looking over at one of the
officers seated at his table. " When Groslow undertakes this kind
of thing, there's no need to go over the ground after him."
" Ah 1 it's that gentleman ?" said D'Artagnan, bowing to the
officer. " I am sorry he does not speak French, that I might
offer him my compliments."
" I am ready to receive and return them, sir," said the officer,
in pretty good French. " For I resided three years in Paris."
" Then, sir, allow me to assure you that your blow was so well
directed that you have nearly killed your man."
" Nearly ? I thought it was quite," said Groslow.
"No. It was a very near thing, but he is not dead."
As he said this, D'Artagnan gave a glance at Parry, who was
standing in front of the king, to show him that the news was meant
for him.
The king, too, who had listened in the greatest agony, now
breathed again.
" Flang it," said Groslow, " I thought I had succeeded better.
If it were not so far from here to the house, I would return and
finish him."
" And you would do well, if you are afraid of his recovering ; for
you know, if a wound in the head does not kill at once, it is cured
in a week."
And D'Artagnan threw a second glance towards Parry, on whose
face such an expression of joy was manifested that Charles stretched
out his hand to him, smiling.
Parry bent over his master's hand, and kissed it respectfully.
" I have a great desire to drink the king's health," said AthQS.
t6 Let me propose it, then," said D'Artagnan,
RESPECT TO FALLEN MAJESTY.
Porthos looked at D'Artagnan, quite amazed at the resources
with which his companion's Gascon sharpness continually supplied
him.
D'Artagnan took his tin cup, filled it, and rose.
" Gentlemen," said he, " let us drink to him.'who presides at
our repast. Here's to our colonel, and let him know that we are
always at his commands, as far as London, and further."
And as D'Artagnan, as he spoke, looked at Harrison, the colonel
imagined the toast was for himself. He rose and bowed to the
four friends, whose eyes were fixed on Charles, while Harrison
emptied his glass without the slightest misgiving.
The king, in return, looked at the four gentlemen, and drank,
with a smile full of nobleness and gratitude.
"Come, gentlemen," cried Harrison, quite regardless of his
illustrious captive, " let us be off."
" Where do we sleep, colonel ?"
"At Thirsk," replied Harrison.
" Parry," said the king, rising too, " my horse; I desire to go
to Thirsk."
" Egad," said D'Artagnan to Athos ; " your king has thoroughly
taken me, and I am quite at his service."
" If what you say is sincere," replied Athos, " he will never
reach London."
*■' How so ?"
"Because, before then, we shall have carried him off."
" Well, this time, Athos," said D'Artagnan, " upon my word you
are mad."
" Have you some plan in your head, then ?" asked Aramis.
"Ay," said Porthos, " the thing would not be impossible with
a good plan."
" I have none," said Athos, " but D'Artagnan will discover
orie."
D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and went on.
CHAPTER LIX.
D'ARTAGNAN HITS ON A PLAN.
As night closed in they arrived at Thirsk.
D'Artagnan was thoughtful, and seemed for the moment to
have lost his usual loquacity. Porthos, who could never see any-
362
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
thing that was not self-evident, talked to him as usual. He replied
in monosyllables, and Athos and Aramis looked significantly at
one another.
Next morning, D'Artagnan was the first to rise. He had gone
down to the stables, had already had a look at the horses, and
given all the necessary orders for the day, while Athos and Aramis
were still in bed, and Porthos snoring.
At eight o'clock, the march was resumed in the same order as
the night before, except that D'Artagnan left his friends and began
to renew the acquaintance which he had already struck up with
Monsieur Groslow.
" Really, sir," D'Artagnan said to him, " I am happy to find
some one with whom to talk in my own poor tongue. My friend,
Monsieur de Valon, is of a very melancholy disposition—so much
so, that one can scarcely get three words a day out of him. As
for our two prisoners, you can imagine that they are but little in
the humour for conversation."
" They are hot Royalists," said Groslow.
" The more reason they should be sulky with us for having cap-
tured the Stuart, for whom, I hope, you are preparing a pretty
trial."
" Why," said Groslow, " that's just what we are taking him to
London for."
" And you don't Jose sight of him, I presume ?"
"I should think not, indeed. You see he has a truly royal
escort."
"Aye, there's no fear in the daytime; but at night."
"We double our precautions."
"And what method of surveillance do you employ?"
"Eight men remain constantly in his room."
" The deuce, he is well guarded then. But, besides these eight
men, you doubtless place some guard outside ?"
" Oh, no ! Just think. What would you have two men without
arms do against eight armed men ?"
"Two men—how do you mean?"
"Yes, the king and his lackey."
" Oh ! then they allow the lackey to remain with him ?"
" Yes; Stuart begged for this favour, and Harrison consented.
Under pretence that he's a king, it appears he cannot dress or un-
dress without assistance."
"Really, captain," said D'Artagnan, determined.to continue on
the laudatory tack on which he had commenced—" the more I
listen to you, the more surprised I am at the easy and elegant
D" ART AG NAN HITS ON A PLAN
manner in which you speak French. You have lived three years
in Paris ? May I ask what you were doing there ?"
" My father, who is a merchant, placed me with his correspon-
dent, who, in turn, sent his son to my father's."
" Were you pleased with Paris, sir ?"
" Yes, but you are much in want of a revolution like ours; not
against your icing, who is merely a child, but against that lazar of
an Italian, the queen's favourite."
" Ah ! I am quite of your opinion, sir; and we should soon make
an end of Mazarin, if we had only a dozen officers' like yourself,
without prejudices, vigilant, and incorruptible."
" But," said the officer, " I thought you were in his service, and
that it was he who had sent you to General Cromwell ?"
" That is to say I am in the king's service, and that knowing he
wanted to send some one to England, I solicited the appointment,
so great was my desire to know the man of genius who now governs
the three kingdoms. So that when he proposed to us to draw our
swords in honour of Old England, you see how we snatched at the
proposition."
"Yes, I know that you charged by the side of Mordaunt."
" On his right and left, sir. Ah 1 that's another brave and ex-
cellent young man."
" Do you know him ?" asked the officer.
"Yes, very welL Monsieur de Valon and myself came from
France with him."
" It appears,4oo, you kept him waiting along time at Boulogne."
" What-wbtild you have ? I was like you, and had a king in
keeping."
" Aha!" said Groslow ; " what king ?"
"Our own, to be sure—the little one. Louis XIV."
" And how long had you to take care of him ?"
" Three nights; and, by my troth, I shall always remember those
three nights with pleasure." "How do you mean?"
" I mean that my friends, officers in the guards and ' Mousque-
taires,' came to keep me company, and we passed the night in
eating and play."
" Ah! true," said the Englishman, with a sigh, " you French-
men are jovial boon companions."
" And don't you play, toof when you are on guard ?"
"Never," said the Englishman.
" In that case you must be horribly bored, and I pity you."
" The fact is, I look to my turn for keeping guard with horror.
It's tiresome work to keep awake a whole night."
3^4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Yes; but with a jovial partner, and the gold and dice rolling
on the table, the night passes like a dream. You don't like play-
ing, then?"
"On the contrary, I do."
" Lansquenet, for instance ?"
"I'm devoted to it. I used to play almost every night in
France."
" And since your return to England ?"
"I have not handled a single card or dice-box."
"I sincerely pity you," said D'Artagnan, with an air of profound
compassion.
" Look here !" said the Englishman.—-—" Well ?"
" To-morrow I am on guard."
" In Stuart's room ?"
" Yes; come and pass the night with me ?"
" impossible !"
" Impossible ! why so ?"
" I play with Monsieur de Valon every night. Sometimes we
don't go to bed at all."
"Well, what of that?"
" Why, he would be annoyed if I did not play with him ?"
" Does he play well ?"
" I have seen him lose as much as two thousand pistoles—
laughing all the while till the tears rolled down."
"Bring him with you, then."
" But how about our prisoners ?"
"Let your servants guard them."
" Yes, and give them a chance of escaping," said D'Artagnan.
"Why, one of them is a rich lord from Touraine, and the other a
knight of Malta, of noble family. We have arranged the ransom
of each of them—£2000 on arriving in France."
"Aha !" exclaimed Groslow. "But come," he continued, "are
they dangerous men ?"
" In what respect ?"
" Are they capable of attempting violence ?"
D'Artagnan burst out laughing at the idea.
"Well, then," said Groslow, "bring them with you."
" But really " said D'Artagnan.
" I have eight men on guard, you know. Four of them can
guard the king, and the other four your prisoners. I shall manage
it somehow, you will see."
" But," said D'Artagnan, " now I think of it—what is to prevent
our beginning to-night ?"
PARTA GNAN HITS OH A PL AH.
u Nothing at all," said Groslow.
"Just so. Come to us this evening, and to-morrow we'll return
your visit."
" Capital! This evening with you, to-morrow at Stuart's, the
next day with me."
" You see one can lead a merry life everywhere," said D'Artagnan.
" Yes, with Frenchmen, and Frenchmen like you."
" And Monsieur de Valon," added the other. " You will see
what a fellow he is; a man who nearly killed Mazarin between
two doors. They employ him because they are afraid of him.
Ah, there he is, calling me now. You'll excuse me, I know."
They exchanged bows, and D'Artagnan returned to his com-
panions.
" What on earth can you have been saying to that bull-dog ?" ex-
claimed Porthos.
" My dear fellow, don't speak like that of Monsieur Groslow.
He's one of my intimate friends."
" One of your friends !" cried Porthos; " this butcherer of
peasants!"
" Hush ! my dear Porthos. Monsieur Groslow is perhaps rather
quick, it's true, but at bottom I have discovered good qualities in
him. He is conceited and stupid."
Porthos opened his eyes in amazement; Athos and Aramis
looked at one another and smiled.
" But," continued D'Artagnan, " you shall judge of him for
yourself. He is coming to play with us this evening."
" Oho-!" said Porthos, his eyes glistening at the news. " Is he
rich ?"
" He's the son of one of the wealthiest merchants in London."
" And knows lansquenet ?"
" He adores it."
. " Basset ?"
" His mania."
« Biribi ?"
" He revels in it."
"Good," said Porthos ; "we shall pass an agreeable evening."
" The more so, as it will be the prelude to a better."
," How so ?"
" We invite him to play to-night; he has invited us in return
for to-morrow. But wait. To-night we stop at Derby; and if
there is a bottle of wine in the town, let Mousqueton buy it. It
will be well too to prepare a light supper, of which you, Athos, and
Aramis are not to partake. Athos, because I told him you had a
366
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
fever; Aramis, because you are a knight of Malta, and won't mix
with fellows like us. Do you understand ?"
" Yes," said Porthos ; " but deuce take me if I understand at all."
" Porthos, my friend, you know that I am descended on the
father's side from the Prophets, and on the mother's from the
Sybils, and that I only speak in parables and riddles. That is all
I can say for the present."
" The fact is," said Porthos, with an air of finesse, " I am
rather incredulous."
D'Artagnan gave him a clap on the shoulder, and as they had
reached the station where they were to breakfast, the conversation
ended there.
At five in the evening they sent Mousqueton on before, as agreed
upon.
In crossing the principal street in Derby, the four friends per-
ceived their man Standing in the doorway of a handsome house.
It was there that their lodging was prepared for them.
At the hour agreed upon Groslow came. D'Artagnan received
him as he would have done a friend of twenty years standing.
Porthos scanned him from head to foot, and smiled when he dis-
covered, that in spite of the blow he had administered to Parry's
brother, fie was not so strong as himself.
Athos and Aramis kept to the parts they had to play, and at
midnight they retired to their room, leaving the door open.
D'Artagnan accompanied them, and left Porthos to win fifty
pistoles of Groslow, and to come to the conclusion when he left,
that he was not such bad company as he had first imagined.
Groslow left with the determination of retrieving his losses the
next night, and reminded the Gascon of the appointment.
The day passed as usual. • In his ordinary relations D'Artagnan
was the same as ever; but with his friends, that is to say, Athos
and Aramis, his gaiety was at fever-heat.
Arrived at Ryston, D'Artagnan assembled his friends. His face
had lost the expression of careless gaiety which it had worn like a
mask the whole day. Athos pinched Aramis's hand.
" The moment is at hand," he said.
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, who had overheard him, "to-night,
gentlemen we rescue the king."
" D'Artagnan," said Athos, " this is not a joke, I trust ? It
would quite cut me up."
" You are very odd, Athos," he replied, " to doubt me thus.
Where and when have you seen me trifle with a friend's heart and
a king's life ? I have told you, and I repeat it, that to-night we
D'AR TA GNAN HITS ON A PLAN.
367
rescue Charles I. You left it to me to discover the means of
doing so, and I have done so."
Porthos looked at D'Artagnan with an expression of profound
admiration. Aramis smiled as one who hopes. Athos was pale,
and trembled in every limb.
" Speak," said Athos.
" We are invited," replied D'Artagnan, " to pass the night with
Mr. Groslow. But do you know where ?"
"No."
"In the king's room."
" The king's room ?" cried Athos.
"Yes, gentlemen, in- the king's room. Groslow is on guard
there "this evening, and, to pass his time, has invited us to keep
him company."
■ " Aha !" exclaimed Aramis.
" We are going, then—we two with our swords, you with daggers.
We four are to make ourselves masters of these eight fools and
their stupid captain. Monsieur Porthos, what do you say to it ?"
"That it is easy enough," answered Porthos.
" We dress the king in Groslow's clothes. Mousqueton, Gri-
maud, and Blaisois have our horses saddled at the end of the first
street. We mount them, and before daylight are twenty leagues
distant."
Athos. placed his two hands on D'Artagnan's shoulders, and
gazed at him with his calm, mild smile.
" I declare, my friend," said he, " that there is not a creature
Under the sky who equals you in prowess and courage."
"And to think that I couldn't find that out," said Porthos,
scratching his head; "it is so simple."
" But," said Aramis, " if I understand rightly, we are to kill
them all, eh ?"
Athos shuddered and turned pale.
" Mordioux," answered D'Artagnan ; " I believe we must. I
Confess I can discover no help for it."
" Let us see," said Aramis, " how are we to act ?"
" I have arranged two plans. Firstly, at a given signal, which
Shall be the words ' At last,' you each plunge a dagger into the
heart of the soldier nearest to you.. We, on our side, do the same.
That will be four killed. We shall then be matched—four against
the remaining five. If those five give themselves up we gag them,
if they resist, we kill them."
"Very good," said Porthos; "it will be a nice little throat-
cutting."
368
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Horrible, horrible," exclaimed Athos.
"Nonsense," said D'Artagnan; "you would clo as much, Mh
, Sensitive, in a battle. But, if you think the king's life is not worth
what it must cost, there's an end of the matter, and I send to,
Groslow to say I am ill."
"No, you are right," said Athos.
At this moment a soldier entered to inform them that Groslow'
was waiting for them.
"Where?" asked D'Artagnan.
" In the room of the English Nebuchadnezzar," replied the
staunch Puritan.
"Good," replied Athos, whose blood mounted to his face at the
insult offered to royalty; " tell the captain we are coming."
"Faith," said Groslow, as the four friends entered, "I had
almost given you up."
D'Artagnan went up to him, and whispered in his ear :
" The fact is Ave, that is, Monsieur de Valon and I, hesitated a
little."
" And why ?"
D'Artagnan looked significantly towards Athos and Aramis.
"Aha," said Groslow, "on account of opinions? No matter.
On the contrary," he added, laughing, "if they want to see their
Stuart they shall see him."
" Are Ave to pass the night in the king's room ?" asked D'Ar-
tagnan.
" No, but in the one next to it; and as the door will remain
open, it's the same thing. Have you provided yourself with
money ? I assure you I intend to play the devil's game to-night."
D'Artagnan rattled the gold in his pockets.
" Very good," said Groslow, and opened the door of the room.
" I will show you the way," and he went in first.
D'Artagnan turned to look at his friends. Porthos was perfectly
indifferent; Athos pale, but resolute. Aramis was wiping a slight
moisture from his brow.
The eight guards were at their posts—four in the king's room,
two at the door between the rooms, and two at that by.which the
friends had entered. Athos smiled Avhen he saAv their bare swords;
he felt it was no longer to be a butchery but a fight, and his usual
good humour returned to him.
Charles was perceived through the door, lying dressed upon his
bed, at the head.of which Parry was seated, reading, in a low voice,
a chapter from the Bible!
A candle of coarse tallow on a black table lit up the resigned
face of the king, and that of his faithful retainer, far less calm.
1? ART A GNA N HITS ON A PLAN.
3^9
From time to time Parry stopped, thinking the king, whose eyes
were clo&sd, was really asleep, but Charles would open his eyes,
and say with 'a smile ;
"Go on, my good Parry, I am listening."
Groslow advanced to the door of the king's room, replaced on
his head the hat which he had taken off to receive his guests,
looked for a moment contemptuously at this simple and touching
scene, and, turning again to D'Artagnan, assumed an air of triumph
at what he had achieved.
" Capital," cried the Gascon,," you would make a distinguished
general."
"And do you think," asked Groslow, "that the Stuart will
ever escape while I am guard ?"
"No, to be sure," replied D'Artagnan ; " unless, forsooth, the
sky rains friends upon him."
Groslow's face brightened.
It is impossible to say whether Charles, who kept his eyes con-
stantly closed, had noticed the insolence of the Puritan captain,
but the moment he heard the clear tone of D'Artagnan's voice,
his eyelids rose in spite of himself.
Parry, too, started and stopped reading.
" What are you thinking about ?" said the king; " go qn, my
good Parry, unless, at least, you are tired."
Parry resumed his reading.
On a table in the next room were lighted candles, cards, two
dice-boxes and dice.
" That's it," said D'Artagnan; " you Monsieur le Comte de la Fere
to the right of Monsieur Groslow. You, Chevalier d'Herblay to
his left. De Valon next me. You'll bet for me, and those gen-
tlemen for Monsieur Groslow."
By this arrangement, D'Artagnan could nudge Porthos with his
knee, and make signs with the eyes to Athos and Aramis.
At the names of Comte de la Fere and Chevalier d'Herblay,
Charles opened his eyes, and raising his noble head in spite of
himself, threw a glance at all the actors in the scene.
" You asked me just now if I was in funds," said D'Artagnan,
placing some twenty pistoles upon the table; " well, in my turn I
advise you to keep a sharp look out on your treasure, my dear
Monsieur Groslow, for I can tell you we shall not leave this without
robbing you of it."
"Not without my defending it," said Groslow.
" So much the better," said D'Artagnan. " Fight, my dear
24
37o
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
captain, fight. You know, or you don't know, that that is what
we ask of you."
" Oh ! yes," said Groslow, bursting with his usual hoarse laugh,
" I know you Frenchmen want nothing but cuts and bruises."
Charles had heard and understood it all. A slight colour
mounted to his cheeks. The soldiers then saw him stretch his
limbs little by little, and under the pretence of much heat, throw
off the Scotch plaid which covered him.
Athos and Aramis started with delight to find that the king was
lying with his clothes on.
The game began. The luck had turned, and Groslow having
won some hundred pistoles, was in the merriest possible humour.
Porthos, who had lost the fifty pistoles he had won the night
before, and thirty more besides, was very cross, and questioned
D'Artagnan with a nudge of the knee, as to whether it would not
soon be time to change the game. But D'Artagnan remained
impassible.
It struck ten. They heard the guard going its rounds.
" How many rounds do they make a night ?" asked D'Artagnan,
drawing more pistoles from his pocket.
" Five," answered Groslow, " one every two hours."
D'Artagnan glanced at Athos and Aramis, and for the first time
replied to Porthos's nudge of the knee by a nudge responsive.
Meanwhile the soldiers, whose duty it was to remain in the king's
room, attracted by that love of play so powerful in all men, had
stolen little by little towards the table, and standing on tip-toe,
were watching the game over the shoulders of D'Artagnan and
Porthos. Those on the other side had followed their example,
thus favouring the views of the four friends.
D'Artagnan turned, mechanically looking behind him, and be-
tween the figures of two soldiers he could see Parry standing up,
and Charles leaning on his elbow, with his hands clasped, and ap-
parently offering a fervent prayer to God.
D'Artagnan saw that the moment was come. He darted a pre-
paratory glance at Athos and Aramis, who gently pushed back
their chairs a little so as to leave themselves space for action. He
gave Porthos a second nudge of the knee; and Porthos got up as
if to stretch his legs, and took care at the same time to ascertain
that his sword could be drawn glibly from the scabbard.
" Hang it," cried D'Artagnan; " another twenty pistoles lost.
Really, Captain Groslow, you are too much in luck's way. This
can't lastand he drew another twenty from his pocket. " One
more turn, captain, twenty pistoles on one throw—only one, the last."
D'ARTAGNAN HITS ON A PLAN.
37*
" Done for twenty," replied Groslow.
And he turned up two cards as usual, a king for D'Artagnan,
and an ace for himself.
"A king," said D'Artagnan; "it's a good omen, Master Groslow,
look out for the king."
And in spite of his power over himself, there was a strange vibra-
tion in the Gascon's voice, which made his partner start.
Groslow began turning the cards one after another. If he turned
up an ace first he won; if a king he lost.
He turned up a king.
"'At last!" cried D'Artagnan.
At this word Athos and Aramis jumped up. Porthos drew back-
a step. Daggers and swords were just about to shine, when sud-
denly the door was thrown open, and Harrison appeared on the
doorway, accompanied by a man enveloped in a large cloak. Be-
hind this man could be seen the glistening muskets of five or six
soldiers.
Groslow jumped up, ashamed at being surprised in the midst of
wine, cards, and dice. But Harrison paid no attention to him, and
entering the king's room, followed by his companion,—
" Charles Stuart," said he, " an order has come to conduct you
to London without stopping day or night. Prepare yourself, then
to start at once."
" And by whom is this order given ?" asked the king.
" By General Oliver Cromwell. And here is Mr. Mordaunt, who
has brought it, and is charged with its execution."
" Mordaunt!" muttered the four friends, exchanging looks.
D'Artagnan swept up the money that he and Porthos had lost, and
buried it in his huge pocket. Athos and Aramis placed themselves
behind him. At this movement Mordaunt turned round, recog-
nised them, and uttered an exclamation of savage delight.
" I'm afraid we are taken," whispered D'Artagnan to his friend.
; " Not yet," replied Porthos.
" Colonel, colonel," cried Mordaunt, " you are betrayed. These
four Frenchmen have escaped from Newcastle, and no doubt want
to carry off the king. Arrest them."
"Ah! my young man," said D'Artagnan, drawing his sword,
" that is an order sooner given than executed. Fly, friends, fly,"
he added, whirling his sword around him.
The next moment he darted to the door and knocked down two
of the soldiers who guarded it, before they had time to cock their
jnuskets. Athos and Aramis followed him, Porthos brought up
24—2
372
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
the rear, and before soldiers, officers, or colonel had time to re-
cover their surprise, all four were in the street.
" Fire !" cried Mordaunt; " fire upon them."1
Three or four shots were fired, but with no other result than
to show the four fugitives turning the corner of the street safe and
sound.
The horses were at the place fixed upon, and they leapt lightly
into their saddles.
" Forward!" cried D'Artagnan, "and put the spur in."
They galloped away, and took the road they had come by in the
morning, namely, in the direction towards Scotland. A few yards
beyond the town D'Artagnan drew rein.
" Halt!" he cried; " this time we shall be pursued. We must
let them leave the village and ride after us on the northern road,
and when they are passed we will take the opposite direction."
There was a stream close by, and a bridge across it D'Artagnan
led his horse under the arch of the bridge. The others followed.
Ten minutes later they heard the rapid gallop of a troop of horse-
men. A few minutes more, and the troop passed over their heads,
CHAPTER LX.
LONDON.
As soon as the noise of the hoofs was lost in the distance,1
D'Artagnan remounted the bank of the stream and scoured the
plain, followed by his three friends, directing^himself as much as
possible towards London.
"This time," said D'Artagnan, when they were sufficiently
distant to proceed at a trot, " I think all is lost, and we have
nothing better to do than to reachFrance. What do you think, Athos?"
" True," said Athos; " but we ought, I think, to see this great
tragedy played out. Do not let us leave England before the crisis.
Don't you agree with me, Aramis ?"
" Entirely, my dear count. Then, too, I confess I should not
be sorry to come across Mordaunt again. It appears to me that
we have an account to settle with him, and that it is ■ not our
custom to leave a place without paying our debts, of this kind at least."
" Ah ! that's another thing," said D'Artagnan ; " and I should
not mind waiting in London a whole year for a chance of meeting
this Mordaunt in question. Only let us lodge with some one
on whom we can count; for I imagine that, just now, Mr. Crom-
well would nQt be inclined to trifle with us. Athos, do you know
LONDON',
373
any inn in the whole town where one can find white sheets, roast
beef reasonably cooked, and wine which is not- made of hops or
gin ?"
" I think I know what you want," replied Athos. " De
Winter took us to the house of a Spaniard, who, he said, had
been naturalised in England by his new fellow-countrymen's
.guineas."
" Well, we must take every precaution."
"Yes, and among others, that of changing our clothes."
" Changing our clothes !" exclaimed Porthos, " I don't see
why; we are very comfortable in those we have on."
"To prevent recognition," said D'Artagnan. "Our clothes
have a cut which would denounce the Frenchman at first sight.
Now, I don't care sufficiently about the cut of my jerkin to risk
being hung at Tyburn, or sent for. change of scene to the Indies.
I shall buy a chestnut-coloured suit. I've remarked that your
Puritans revel in that colour."
" But can you find your man ?" said Aramis to Athos.
"Oh ! to be sure, yes. He lives at the Bedford Tavern, Green
Hall Street Besides, I can find my way about the city Avith my
eyes shut,"
Athos was right* He went direct to the Bedford Tavern, and
the host, Avho recognised him, was delighted to see him again Avith
such Avorthy and numerous company.
Though it was scarcely daylight, our four travellers found the
town in a great bustle, owing to the reported approach of Harrison
and the king.
The plan of changing their clothes was unanimously adopted.
The landlord sent out for every description of garment, as if he
Avanted to fit up his Avardrobe. Athos chose a black coat,* Avhich
gave him the appearance of a respectable citizen. Aramis, not
Ayishing to part with his sword, selected a dark one of a military
cut. Porthos Avas seduced by a red doublet Avith green pockets.
D'Artagnan, Avho had fixed on his colour beforehand, had only to
select the shade, and looked in his chestnut suit exactly like a
retired sugar-dealer.
" Now/' said D'Artagnan, "for the~actuai man. We must cut
off our hair, that the populace may not insult us. As Ave no longer
wear the sword of the gentleman, we may as welL.have the head of
the Puritan. This, as you knoAv, is the important point of distinc-
tion between the Covenanter and the Cavalier.
" We look hideous," said Athos.
"And smack of the Puritan to a frightful extent," said Aramis.
374
TWENTY YEARS APTeR.
" My head feels quite cold," said Porthos.
"And as for me, I feel anxious to preach a sermon," said
D'Artagnan.
" Now," said Athos, " that we cannot even recognise one another,
and have, therefore, no fear of others recognising us, let us go and
see the king's entrance."
They had not been long in the crowd before loud cries an-
nounced the king's arrival. A carriage had been sent to meet
him; and the gigantic Portoos, who stood a head above all the
other heads, soon announced that he saw the royal equipage ap-
proaching. D'Artagnan raised himself on tip-toe, and as the car-
riage ^passed, saw Harrison at one window and Mordaunt at thg
other.
iii, The next day, Athos leaning out of his window, which looked
Upon the most populous part of the city, heard the Act of Parlia-
ment, which summoned the ex-king, Charles I., to the bar, publicly
cried.
" The parliament, indeed !" cried Athos. " Parliament can
never have passed such an act as that."
At this moment the landlord came in.
" Did parliament pass this act ?" Athos asked of him in English.
"Yes, my lord, the pure parliament."
" Come," said D'Artagnan, " as I don't understand English,
suppose you speak to us in Spanish, which we all do understand."
" Do you mean to say, then," resumed Athos, " that there are
two parliaments, one pure, and the other impure ?"
" When I speak of the pure parliament," resumed the host, " I
mean the one which Colonel Bridge has weeded."
" Ah! really," said D'Artagnan, " these people are very ingenious.
When I go back to France I must suggest that to Cardinal Ma-
zarin. One shall weed the parliament in the name of the court,
and the other in the name of the people : so that there won't be
any parliament left at all."
" And who is this Colonel Bridge ?" asked Aramis.
" Colonel Bridge," replied the Spaniard, " is a retired waggoner,
a man of much sense, who made one observation in driving his
team, namely, that where there happened to be at stone on the
road, it was much easier to remove the stone, than to try and
.make the wheel pass over it. Now, of 251 members whb com-
posed the parliament, there were 191 who were in his way, and
might have upset his political waggon. He took them up, just as
he formerly used to take up the stones from the road, and threw
them out of the house."
lOA'DOM
375
" Neat," remarked D'Artagnan. " Very !"
"And all these 191 were Stuartists ?" asked AthoS.
" Without doubt, senor; and, you understand, that they would
have saved the king."
" To be sure," said Porthos, majestically, " they were in the
majority."
" And you think," said Aramis, " he will consent to appear be-
fore such a tribunal ?"
" He will be forced to do so," answered the Spaniard.
" Now, Athos !" said D'Artagnan, " do you begin to believe that
it's a ruined cause? and that what with your Harrisons, Joyces,
Bridges, and Cromwells, we shall never get the upper hand ?"
" But," said Aramis, " if they dare to condemn their king, it can
only be to exile or imprisonment."
D'Artagnan whistled a little air of incredulity.
" We shall see," said Athos, " for we shall go to the sittings, I
presume."
" You will not have long to wait," said the landlord; " they
begin to-morrow."
" So, then, they drew up the indictment before the king was
taken ?"
"Of course," said D'Artagnan; "they began the day he was
sold."
" And you know," said Aramis, " that it was our friend Mordaunt
who made, if not the bargain, at least the first overtures."
" And you know," added D'Artagnan, " that whenever I catch
him, I kill him, this Mr. Mordaunt."
" And I, too," exclaimed Porthos.
" And I, too," added Aramis.
" Touching unanimity !" cried D'Artagnan, " which well becomes
good citizens like us. Let us take a turn round the town, and
imbibe a little fog."
" Yes," said Porthos. " It will be a change from the beer."
CHAPTER LXI.
the trial.
The next morning King Charles I. was brought by a strong guard
before the high court which was to' judge him. All London was
crowding to the doors of the house. The throng was terrific; and
7IVEN TV YEARS ASTER.
it was not till after much pushing and some fighting that our four
friends reached their destination. When they did so, they found
the three lower rows of benches already occupied ; but, as they
were not anxious to be too conspicuous, all, with the exception of
Porthos, who was anxious to display his red doublet, were quite
satisfied with their places, the more so as chance had brought them
to the centre of their,row, so that they were exactly opposite the
arm-chair prepared for the royal prisoner.
Towards eleven o'clock the king entered the hall, surrounded by
guards, but wearing his head covered, and with a calm expression
turned to every side with a look of complete assurance, as if he
were therp to preside at an assembly of submissive subjects, rather
than to reply to the accusations of a rebel court.
The judges, proud of having a monarch to humble, evidently
prepared to employ the right they had arrogated to themselves,
and sent an officer to inform the king that it was, customary for
the accused to uncover his head.
■ Charles, without replying a single word, turned his head in
another direction, and pulled his felt hat over it. Then, when the
officer was gone, he sat down in the arm-chair opposite the presi-
dent, and struck his boot with a little cane which he carried in his
hand. Parry, who accompanied him, stood behind him.
D'Artagnan was looking at Athos, whose face betrayed all those
emotions which the king, possessing more power over himself, had
chased from his own. This agitation, in one so cool and calm as
Athos, frightened him.
•" I hope," he whispered to him, " that you will follow his
majesty's example, and not get killed for your folly in this den."
"Set your mind at rest," replied Athos.
'' Aha !" continued D'Artagnan, " it is clear that they are afraid of
something or other; for, look, the sentinels are being reinforced.
They had only halberds before, and now they have muskets.. The
halberds were for the audience in the area. The muskets are
for us."
" Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty-five men," said Porthos, counting the
reinforcements.
"Ah !" said Aramis. "But you forget the officer."
D'Artagnan grew pale with rage. He had recognised Mordaunt,
who, with bare sword, was marshalling the musketeers before the
king, and opposite the benches.
" Do, you think they have recognised us ?" said D'Artagnan.
" In that case I should beat a retreat. I don't care to be shot in
a box,"
THE TRIAL.
311
" No," said Aramis, " he has not seen us. He sees no one bilt
the king. 'Mon Dieu !' how he stares at him, the insolent dog'!
Does he hate his majesty as much as he does us ?"
" Pardi," answered Athos, " we only carried off his mother, and
the king has spoiled him of his name and property."
"•True," said Aramis; " but silence ! the president is speaking
to the king."
" Stuart," Bradshaw was saying, " listen to the roll-call of your
judges, and address to the court any observations you may have
to make."
The king turned his head away, as if these words had not been
intended for him. Bradshaw waited, and, as there was no reply,
there was a moment of silence.
Out of the hundred and sixty-three members designated, there
were only seventy-three present, for the rest, fearful of taking part
in such an act, had remained away.
When the name of Colonel Fairfax was called, one of those brief
but solemn silences ensued, which announced the absence of the
members who had no wish to take a personal part in the trial.
" Colonel Fairfax," repeated Bradshaw.
" Fairfax ?" answered a laughing voice, the silvery tone of which
betrayed it as that of a woman, " he is not such a fool as to be
here."
A loud laugh followed these words, pronounced with that bold-
ness which women draw from their own weakness—a weakness
which removes them beyond the power of vengeance.
" It is a woman's voice," cried Aramis; " faith, I would give a
good deal for her to be young and pretty." And he mounted on
the bench to try and get a sight of her.
" By my soul," said Aramis, " she is charming. Look, D'Artag-
nan; everybody is looking at her; and in spite of Bradshaw's gaze,
she has not turned pale."
"It is Lady Fairfax herself," said D'Artagnan, "don't you re-
member, Porthos, we saw her at General Cromwell's ?"
The roll-call continued.
"These rascals will adjourn when they find that they are not in
sufficient force," said the Comte de la Fere.
"You don't know them, Athos; look at Mordaunt's smile. Is that
the look of a man whose victim is likely to escape him. Ah, cursed
basilisk, it will be a happy day for me when I can cross something
more than a look with you."
" The king is really very handsome," said Porthos ; " and look,
too, though he is a prisoner, how carefully he is dressed. The
378
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
feather in his hat is worth at least fifty pistoles. Look at it,
Aramis."
The roll-call finished, the president ordered them to read the act
of accusation. Athos turned pale. A second time he was dis-
appointed in his expectation.
" I told you so, Athos," said D'Artagnan, shrugging his shoul-
ders. "Now take your courage in both hands, and hear what this
geptleman in black is going to say about his sovereign, with full
licence and privilege."
Never till then had a more brutal accusation or meaner insults
tarnished the kingly majesty.
Charles listened with marked attention, passing over the insults,
noting the grievances, and, when hatred overflowed all bounds,
and the accuser turned executioner beforehand, replying with a
smile of contempt.
" The fact is," said D'Artagnan, " if men are punished for im-
prudence and triviality, this poor king deserves punishment. But
it seems to me that that which he is just now undergoing is hard
enough."
At this moment the accuser concluded with these words :—
" The present accusation is preferred by us in the name of the
English people."
At these words there was a murmur along the benches, and a
second voice, not that of a woman, but a man's, stout and furious,
thundered behind D'Artagnan :
"You lie," it cried, "and nine-tenths of the English people
shudder at what you say."
This voice was that of Athos, who, standing up with out-
stretched arm, and quite out of his mind, thus assailed the public
accuser.
King, judges, spectators, all turned their eyes to the bench
where the four friends, were seated. Mordaunt did the same, and
recognised the gentleman, around whom the three other French-
men were standing, pale and menacing. His eyes glittered with
delight. He had discovered those to whose death he had devoted
his life. A movement of fury called to his side some twerity of'
his musketeers, and, pointing to the bench where his enemies were,
—" Fire on that bench," he cried.
But, rapid as thought, D'Artagnan seized Athos by the middle
of the body, and, followed by Porthos with Aramis, leapt down
from the benches, rushed into the passages, and, flying down the
staircase, was lost in the crowd without, while the muskets within
were pointed on some three thousand spectators, whose piteous
THE TRIAL.
379
Clies ana . noisy nfarms stopped the impulse already given to
bloodshed.
Mordaunt, pale and trembling with anger, rushed from the hall,
sword in hand, followed by six pikemen, pushing, inquiring, and
panting in the crowd; and then, having found nothing, returned.
Quiet was at length restored.
" What have you to say in your defence ?" asked Bradshaw of
the king.
Then, rising with his head still covered, in the tone of a judge
rather than a prisoner, Charles began.
" Before questioning me," he said, " reply to my question. I
was free at Newcastle, and had there concluded a treaty with both
houses. Instead of performing your part of this contract, as I
performed mine, you bought me from the Scotch—not dear, I
know, and that does honour to the economy of your government.
But because you have paid the price of a slave, do you expect
that I have ceased to be your king? No. To answer you would
be to forget it. I shall only reply to you when you have satisfied
me of your right to question me. To answer you would be to
acknowledge you as my judges, and I only acknowledge you ,as
my executioners." And in the midst of a death-like silence, Charles,
calm, lofty, and with his head still covered, sat down again in his
arm-chair.
■ " Why are not my Frenchmen here ?" he murmured proudly,
and turning his eyes to the benches where they had .appeared for
a moment; " they would have seen that their friend was worthy
of their defence, while alive; and of their tears, when dead."
" Well," said the president—seeing that Charles was determined
to remain silent—" so be it. We will judge you in spite of your
silence. You are accused of treason, of abuse of power, and
murder. The evidence will support it. Go, and another sitting
will accomplish what you have refused to do in this."
Charles rose, and turned towards Parry, whom he found pallid,
and with his temples covered with moisture.
" Well, my dear Parry," said he, " what is the matter ? and what
can affect you in this manner ?"
" Oh, my king," said Parry, with tears in his eyes, and in a
tone of supplication, " do not look to the left as we leave the
hall."
"And why, Parry?"
" Do not look, I implore you, my king."
"But what is the matter? speak," said Charles, attempting to
look across the hedge of guards which surrounded him.
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"It is—but you will not lool^, will you ?—it is, because they
have had the axe, with which criminals are executed, brought and
placed there on a table. The sight is hideous."
" Fools," said Charles, " do they take me for a coward like
themselves? You have done well to warn me. Thank you,
Parry."
When the moment arrived, the king followed his guards out of
the hall. As he passed the table on which the axe was laid, he
stopped, and turning with a smile, said :
" Ah! the axe, an ingenious device, and well worthy of those
who know not what a gentleman is. You frighten me nqt, execu-
doner's axe," added he, touching it with the cane which he held
in his hand, " and I strike you now, waiting patiently and chris-
tianly for you to return the blow."
, And, shrugging his shoulders with real contempt, he passed on.
When he reached the door, a long stream of people, who had
been disappointed in not being able to get into the house, and to
make amends had collected to see him come out, stood on each
side as he passed, many among them glaring on him with threaten-
ing looks.
" How many people," thought he, "and not one true friend."
And as he uttered these words of doubt and depression within
his mind, a voice near him said : .
"Respect to fallen majesty."
The king turned quickly round, with tears in his eyes and
heart. It was an old soldier of the guards, who could not see. his
king pass captive before him without rendering him this last
homage. But the next moment the unfortunate man was nearly
stunned with blows from the hilts of swords; and among those
who set upon him the king recognised Captain Groslow.
" Alas !" said Charles, " that is a severe chastisement for a very
slight fault."
He continued his way; but he had scarcely gone a hundred
paces, when a furious fellow, leaning between two soldiers, spit in
the king's face. Loud roars of laughter and sullen murmurs rose
together. The crowd opened and closed again, undulating like a
stormy sea; and the king imagined that he saw shining in the
midst of this living wave the bright eyes of Athos.
Charles wiped his face, and said, with a sad smile, " Poor
wretch, for half-a-crown he would do as much to his own father."
The king was not wrong. Athos and his friends, again
mingling with the throng, wrere taking a last look at the martyr
king.
THE TRIAL.
When the cowardly insulter had spat in the face of the captive
monarch, Athos had grasped his dagger. But D'Artagnan stopped
his hand, and' in a hoarse voice cried, " Wait!"
Athos stopped. D'Artagnan leaning on Athos, made a sign to
Porthos and Aramis to keep near them, and then placed himself
behind the man with the bare arms, who was still laughing at his
own vile pleasantry, and receiving the congratulations of several
otters.
The man took his way towards the city. The four friends fol-
lowed him. The man, who had the appearance of being a butcher,
descended a little steep and isolated street, looking on to the river,
with two of his friends. Arrived at the bank of the river, the three
men perceived that they were followed, turned round, and looked
insolently at the Frenchmen.
" Athos," said D'Artagnan, " will you interpret for me ?"
At this, D'Artagnan walked straight up to the butcher, and
touching him on the chest with the tip of his finger, said to
Athos :
" Say this to him in English, ' You are a coward. You have
insulted a defenceless man. You have befouled the face of your
king. You must die.' "
Athos, pale .as a ghost, repeated these words to the man, who,
seeing the unpleasant preparations that were making, put himself
in an attitude of defence. Aramis, at this movement, drew his
sword.
"No," cried D'Artagnan, "no steel. Steel is for gentlemen."
And seizing the butcher by the throat,—
" Porthos," said he, " knock this fellow down for me with a
single blow."
Porthos raised his terrible arm, which whistled through the air
like a sling, and the heavy mass fell with a dull noise on the skull
of the coward, and broke it. The man fell like an ox under the
mallet. His companions, horrorstruck, could neither move nor
cry out.
"Tell them this, Athos," resumed D'Artagnan; "'thus shall
all die who forget that a fettered man wears a sacred head."
The two men looked at the body of their companion, swimming
in black blood ; and then, recovering voice and legs together, ran
shouting away.
"Justice is done," said Porthos, wiping his forehead.
" And now," said D'Artagnan to Athos, " do not have any
doubts about me; I undertake everything tkat concerns the
king."
383
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER LXII,
whitehall.
It was easy to foresee that the Parliament would condemn Charles
to death. Political judgments are generally merely vain formalities,
for the same passions which give rise to the accusation give rise
also to the condemnation. Such is the terrible logic of revo
lutions.
Meanwhile, before our four friends could mature their plans,
they determined to put every possible obstacle in the Way of the
execution of the sentence. To this end they resolved to get rid
of the London executioner; for though, of course, another could
be sent for from the nearest town, there would be still a delay of
a day or two gained. D'Artagnan undertook this more than diffi-
cult task. The next thing was to warn Charles of the attempt
about to be made to save him. Aramis undertook the perilous
office. Bishop Juxon had received permission to visit Charles in
his prison at Whitehall; Aramis resolved to persuade the bishop
to let him enter with him. Lastly, Athos was to prepare,, in every
emergency, the means of leaving England.
The palace -of Whitehall was guarded by three- regiments of
cavalry, and still more by the anxiety of Cromwell, who came and
went, or sent his generals or his agents continually. Alone, in
his usual room, lighted by two candles, the condemned monarch
gazed sadly on the luxury of his past greatness, just as, at the last
hour, one sees the image of life, milder and more brilliant than ever.
Parry had not quitted his master, and, since his condemnation,
had not ceased to weep. Charles, leaning on a table, was gazing
at a medallion of his wife and daughter; he was waiting first for
Juxon, next for martyrdom.
" Alas !" he said to himself, " if I only had for a confessor one
of those lights of the Church, whose soul has sounded all^ the
mysteries of life, all the littlenesses of greatness, perhaps his voice
would choke the voice that wails within my soul. But I shall
have a priest of vulgar mind, whose career and fortune I have
ruined by my misfortune. He will speak to me of God -^nd of
death, as he has spoken to many another dying man, nut under-
standing that this one leaves his throne to a usurper and his
children to starve."
And he raised the medallion to his lips.
It was a dull, foggy night. A neighbouring church clock slowly
struck the hour. The pale light of the two candles raised flicker-
WHITEHALL.
383
ing phantoms in the lofty room. These phantoms were the
ancestors of King Charles, standing out from their gilt frames. A
profound melancholy had possessed itself of Charles. He buried
his brow in his hands, and thought of all that was so dear to him,
now to be left for ever. He drew from his bosom the diamond
cross which La Garretiere had sent him by the hands of those
generous Frenchmen, and kissed it, and remembered that she
would not see it again till he was lying cold and mutilated in the tomb.
Suddenly the door opened, and an ecclesiastic, in episcopal
robes, entered, followed by two guards, to whom the king waved
an imperious gesture. The guards retired. The room resumed
its obscurity. '
" Juxon !" cried Charles, "Juxon, thank you, my last friend, you
are come at a fitting moment."
The bishop looked anxiously at the man sobbing in the
inglenook.
" Come, Parry," said the king, "cease your tears."
" If it's Parry," said the bishop, " I have nothing to fear; so
allow me to salute your majesty, and to tell him who I am, and
for what I am come."
At this sight, and this voice, Charles was about to cry out, when
Aramis placed his finger on his lips, and bowed low to the King of
England.
" The knight!" murmured Charles.
" Yes, sire," interrupted Aramis, raising his voice, " the bishop
Juxon, faithful knight of Christ, and obedient to your majesty's
wishes."
Charles clasped his hands, amazed and stupefied to find that
these foreigners, without other motive than that which their
conscience imposed on them, thus combated the will of a people,
and the destiny of a king.
"You !" he said, "you ! how did you penetrate hither? If they
recognise you, you are lost."
"Care not for me, sire; think only of yourself. You see, your
friends are wakeful. I know not what we shall do yet, but four
determined men can do much. Meanwhile, do not be surprised
at anything that happens; prepare yourself for every emergency."
Charles shook his head.
"Do you know that I die to-morrow, at ten o'clock?
" Something, your majesty, will happen, between now and then,
to make the execution impossible."
At this moment, a strange noise, like the unloading of a cart,
and followed by a cry of pain, was heard beneath the window.
" What is this noise and this cry ?" said Aramis, perplexed.
3§4
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" I know not who can have uttered that cry," said the king,
" but the noise is easily understood. Do you know that I am to
be beheaded outside this window ? Well, this wood, that you hear
fall, is the posts and planks to build my scaffold. Some workmen
must have been hurt in unloading them."
Aramis shuddered, in spite of himself.
"You see," said the king, "that it is useless for you to resist. I
am condemned; leave me to,:"/ death."
"My king," said Aramis, "they may well raise a scaffold, but
they cannot make an executioner."
".What do you mean ?" asked the king.
" I mean that, at this hour, the headsman is removed by force
or persuasion. The scaffold will be ready by to-morrow, but the
headsman will be wanting, and they will put it off till the day
after to-morrow."
" What then ?" said the king.
" To-morrow night we shall rescue you."
"Oh ! sir," cried Parry, •"may you and yours be blessed !"
"I know nothing about it," continued Aramis, "but the cleverest,
the bravest, the most devoted of us four, said to me, when I left
him,Knight, tell the king, that to-morrow, at ten o'clock at night,
we shall carry him off. He has said it, and will do it."
"You are really wonderful men," said the king; "take my
hand, knight, it is that of a friend, who will love you to the last."
Aramis stooped to kiss the king's hand, but Charles clasped his
and pressed it to his heart.
At this moment a man entered, without even knocking at the
door. Aramis tried to withdraw his hand, but the king still held
it. The man was one of those Puritans, half preacher and half
soldier, who swarmed around Cromwell.
" What do you want, sir?" said the king.
" I desire to know if the confession of Charles Stuart is at an
end ?" said the stranger.
"And what is it to you?" replied the king; "we are not of the
same religion."
" All men are brothers," said the Puritan. " One of my brothers
is about to die, and I come to prepare him."
" Bear with him, " whispered Aramis; "it is doubtless some spy."
"After my reverend Lord Bishop," said the king, to the man,
"I shall hear you with pleasure, sir."
The man retired, but not before examining the supposed Juxon
with an attention which did not escape, the king.
" Knight," said the king, when the door was closed, " I believe
WHITEHALL.
3§S
you are right, and that this man only came here with evil inten-
tions. Take care that no misfortune befalls you when you leave."
I thank your majesty," said Aramis, " but, under these robes,
I have a coat of mail and a dagger."
" Go, then, sir, and God keep you !"
The king accompanied him to the door, where Aramis pro-
nounced his benediction upon him, and, passing through the ante-
rooms, filled with soldiers, jumped into his carriage, and drove to
the bishop's palace. Juxon was waiting for him impatiently.
Aramis resumed his own attire, and left Juxon with the assurance
that he might again have recourse to him.
He had scarcely gone ten yards in the street, when he perceived
that he was followed by a man, wrapped in a large cloak. He
placed his hand on his dagger, and stopped. The man came
straight towards him. It was Porthos.
" My dear friend," cried Aramis.
" You see, we had each our mission," said Porthos; " mine was
to guard you, and I was doing so. Have you seen the king ?"
"Yes, and all goes well."
"We are to meet our friends at the hotel, at eleven."
. It was then striking half-past ten by St. Paul's.
Arrived at the hotel, it was not long before Athos entered.
" All's well," he cried, as he entered; " I have hired a, little skiff,
as narrow as a canoe, and as light as a swallow. It is waiting for
us at Greenwich, opposite the Isle of Dogs, manned by a captain
and four men, who, for the sum of fifty pounds sterling, will keep
themselves at our disposition three successive nights. Once on
board, we drop down the Thames, and, in two hours, are in the
open sea. In case I am killed, the captain's name is Roger,
■and the skiff is called the 'Lightning.' A handkerchief, tied at
the four corners, is to be the signal."
Next moment, D'Artagnan entered.
" Empty your pockets," said he, " I want a hundred pounds,
and as for my own " and he emptied them inside out.
The sum was collected in a minute. D'Artagnan ran out, and
returned directly after.
" There," said he, " it's done. Ough ! and not without a deal
of trouble too."
" Has the executioner left London ?" said At amis.
" No, he is in the cellar."
" The cellar—what cellar ?"
" Our landlord's, to be sure. Mousqitetoh is sitting on the door,
and here's the key."
25
336
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
"Bravo !" said Aramis; "but how did you manage it?'1
"Like everything else—with money; it cost me dear."
" How much ?" asked Athos.
"Five hundred pounds."
" And where did you get all that from ?" said Athos.
" The queen's famous diamond," answered D'Artagnan with a
sigh.
" Ah ! true," said Aramis, " I recognised it on your finger."
"You bought it back, then from Monsieur des Essarts?" asked
Porthos.
"Yes, but it was fated that I should not keep it."
" Well, so much for the executioner," said Athos; " but unfor-
tunatply, every executioner has his assistant, his man, or whatever
you call him."
" And this one had his," said D'Artagnan; " but, as good luck
would have it, just as I thought I should have two affairs to
manage, my friend was brought home with a broken leg. In the
excess of his zeal, he had accompanied the cart containing the
scaffolding as far as the king's window, and one of the planks fell
on his leg and broke it."
" Ah !" cried Aramis " that accounts for the cry that I heard."
"Probably, "said D'Artagnan; "butas he is a thoughtful young man,:
he promised to send four expert workmen in his place to help those
already at the scaffold, and wrote, the moment he was brought
home, to Master Tom Lowe, an assistant carpenter and friend of
his, to go down to Whitehall, with three of his friends. Here's the
letter he sent by a messenger for sixpence, who sold it to me for a
guinea."
"And what on earth are you going to do with it?" asked
Athos.
" Can't you guess, my dear Athos ? You, who speak English like
John Bull himself, are Master Tom Lowe, we, your three com-
panions, Do you understand now ?"
CHAPTER LXIIf.
the woek.men.
Towards midnight Charles heard a great fioise beneath his win-
dow. It arose from blows of the haramef and hatchet, clinking
of pincers and crinching of sawSi
THE WORKMEN.
3§7
Lying dressed upon his bed, this noise awoke him with a start,
and found a gloomy echo in his heart. He could not endure it,
and sent Parry to ask the sentinel to beg the workmen to strike
more gently, and not disturb the last slumber of one who had been
their king. The sentinel was unwilling to leave his post, but
allowed Parry to pass.
Arriving at the window, Parry ound an unfinished scaffold, over
which they were nailing a covering of black serge. Raised to
the height of twenty feet, so as to be on a level with the win-
dow, it had two lower stories. Parry, odious as was this sight
to him, sought for those among some eight or ten workmen, who
were making the most noise; and fixed on two men, who were
loosening the last hooks of the iron balcony.
"My friends," said Parry, when he had mounted the scaf-
fold and stood beside them,'"would you work a little more quietly?
The king wishes to get a sleep." One of the two, who was
standing up, was of gigantic size, and was driving a pick with all
his might into the wall, while the other kneeling beside him was
Collecting the pieces of stone. The face of the first was lost to
Parry in the darkness, but as the second turned round and placed
his finger on his lips,. Parry started back in amazement.
"Very well, very well," said the workman aloud in excellent
English. " Tell the king that if he sleeps badly to-night, he
will sleep better to-morrow."
These blunt words, so terrible if taken literally, were received
by the other workmen with a roar of laughter. But Parry with-
drew, thinking he was dreaming.
"Sire," said he to the king, when he had returned, "do you
know who these workmen are who are making so much noise ?"
"I! no, how would you have me know?"
Parry bent his head and whispered the king, " It is the Count
de la Fere and his friend."
" Raising my scaffold," cried the king, astonished.
"Yes, and at the same time making a hole in the wall."
The king clasped his hands, and raised his eyes to heaven;
then, leaping down from his bed, he went to the window, and
pulling aside the curtain, tried to distinguish the figures outside,
but in vain.
Parry was not wrong. It was Athos whom he had recognised,
and it was Porthos who was boring a hole through the wall.
This hole communicated with a kind of low loft—the space
between the floor of the king's room and the ceiling of the one
below it. Their plan was to pass through the. hole they were
25—2
388
TWENTY YEARS AElER.
making into this loft, and cut out.fi-om below a piece of the flooring
of the king's room, so as to form a kind of trap-door.
Through this the king was to escape the next night, and, hidden
by the black covering of the scaffold, was to change his dress for
that of'a workman, slip out with his deliverers, pass the sentinels,
who would suspect nothing, and so reach the skiff that was waiting
for him at Greenwich.
Day gilded the tops of the houses. The hole was finished, and
Athos passed through it, carrying the clothes destined for the king,
wrapped in a piece of black cloth, and the tools with which he was
to open a communication with the king's room.
D'Artagnan returned to change his workman's clothes for his
chestnut-coloured suit, and Porthos to put on his red doublet. As
for Aramis, he went off to the bishop's palace to see if he could
possibly pass in with Juxon to the king's presence. All three
agreed to meet at noon in Whitehall-place to see how things
went on.
Aramis found his two friends engaged with a bottle of port
and a cold chicken, and explained the arrangement to them.
" Bravo !" said Porthos, " besides, we shall be there at the time
of the flight. What with D'Artagnan, Grimaud, and Mousqueton,
we can manage to despatch eight of them. I say nothing about
Blaisois, for he is only fit to hold the horses. Two minutes a
man makes four minutes. Mousqueton will lose another, that's
five; and in five minutes they can have galloped a quarter of a
league."
Aramis swallowed a hasty mouthful, drank off a glass of wine,
and changed his clothes.
"Now," said he, "I'm off to the bishop's. Take care of the
executioner, D'Artagnan."
"All right. Grimaud has relieved Mousqueton, and has his
foot on the cellar-door."
"Well, don't be inactive."
" Inactive, my dear fellow ! Ask Porthos. I pass my life upon
my legs, like a ballet-dancer."
Aramis again presented himself at the bishop's. Juxon con-
sented the more readily to take him with him, as he would require
an assistant priest, in case the king should wish to communicate.
Dressed as Aramis had been the night before, the bishop got into
his carriage, and the former, more disguised by his pallor and sad
countenance than his deacon's dress, got in by his side. The car-
riage stopped at the door of the palace.
It was about nine o'clock in the morning.
THE WORKMEN.
389
Nothing was changed. The ante-rooms were still full of soldiers,
the passages still lined by guards. The king was already sanguine,
but when he perceived Aramis his hope turned to joy.
"Sire," said Aramis, the moment they were alone, "you are
saved, the London executioner has vanished. His assistant broke
his leg last night, beneath your majesty's window-—the cry we
heard was his—and there is no executioner nearer at hand than
Bristol."
" But the Comte de la Fere ?" asked the king.
" Two feet below you; take the poker from the fire-place, and
strike three times on the floor. He will answer you."
The king did so, and the moment after, three dull knocks,
answering the given signal, sounded beneath the floor.
"So," said Charles, "he who knocks down there "
"Is the Comte de la Fere, sire," said Aramis. "He is pre-
paring a path for your majesty to escape by. Parry, for his part,
will raise this slab of marble, and a passage will be opened."
"Oh! Juxon," said the king, seizing the bishop's two hands in
his own, " promise that you will pray all your life for this gentleman,
and for the other that you hear beneath your feet, and for two
others again, who, wherever they may be, are vigilant, I am sure,
for my safety."
"Sire," replied Juxon, "you shall be obeyed."
Meanwhile, the miner underneath was heard working away in-
cessantly, when suddenly an unexpected noise resounded in the
passage. Aramis seized the poker, and gave the signal to stop;
the noise came nearer and nearer. It was that of a number of
men steadily approaching. The four men stood motionless. All
eyes were fixed on the door, which opened slowly, and with a kind
of solemnity.
A parliamentary officer, clothed in black, and with a gravity that
augured ill, entered, bowed to the king, and, unfolding a parch-
ment, read him the arrest which is usually made to criminals before
their execution.
"What is this?" said Aramis to Juxon.
Juxon replied with a sign which meant that he knew as little as
Aramis about it.
" Then it is for to-day ?" asked the king.
" Was not your majesty warned that it was to take place this
morning ?"
" Then I must die like a common criminal by the hand of the
London executioner ?"
The London executioner has disappeared, your majesty, but a
390
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
man has offered his services instead. The execution will therefore
only be delayed long enough for you to arrange your spiritual and
temporal affairs."
A slight moisture on his brow was the only trace of emotion
that Charles evinced, as he learnt these tidings. But Aramis was
livid. His heart ceased beating, he closed his eyes, and leant
upon the table. Charles perceived it, and took his hand.
"Come, my friend," said he, "courage." Then he turned-to
the officer. " Sir, I am ready. I have little to delay you. Firstly,
I wish to communicate; secondly, to embrace my children, and
bid them farewell for the last time. Will this be permitted me ?"
" Certainly," replied the officer, and left the room.
Aramis dug his nails into his flesh and groaned aloud.
"Oh, my Lord Bishop!" he cried, seizing Juxon's hands,
" where is God ? where is God ?"
" My son," replied the bishop with firmness, " you see him not,
because the passions of the world conceal him."
" Be seated, Juxon," said the king, falling upon his knees. " I
have now to confess to you. Remain, sir," he added to Aramis,"
who had moved to leave the room. " Remain, Parry. I have
nothing to say that cannot be said before all."
Juxon sat down, and the king, kneeling humbly before him,
began his confession.
CHAPTER LXIV.
REMEMBER !
The populace was already assembled when the confession termi-
nated. The king's children then arrived—first, the Princess
Elizabeth, a beautiful fair-haired child, with tears in her eyes, and
then the Duke of Gloucester, a boy eight or nine years old, whose
tearless eyes and curling lip revealed a growing pride. He had
wept all night long, but would not show his grief to the people.
Charles's heart melted within him. He turned to brush away a
tear, and then, summoning up all his firmness, drew his daughter
towards him, recommending her to be pious and resigned. Then
he took the boy upon his knee.
" My son," he said to him, " you saw a great number of people
in the streets as you came here. These men are going to behead
REMEMBER!
391
your father. Do not forget that. Perhaps some day they will want
to make you king, instead of the Prince of Wales, or the Duke of
York, your elder brothers. But you are not the king, my son, and
can never be so while they are alive. Swear to me, then, never to
let them put the crown on your head. For one day—listen, my
son—one day, if you do so, they will throw it all down, head and
crqwn too, and then you will not be able to die calm and remorse-
less, as I die. Swear, my son."
The child stretched out his little hand towards that of his father,
and said, " I swear to your majesty."
" Henry," said Charles, " call me your father."
" Father," replied the child, " I swear to you, that they shall
kill me sooner than make me king."
"Good, my child. Now kiss me, and you too, Elizabeth—
never forget rAe."
" Oh, never! never!" cried both the children, throwing their
arms round their father's neck.
" Farewell," said Charles, " farewell, my children. Take them'
away, Juxon; their tears will deprive me of the courage to die."
Juxon led them away, and this time the doors were left open.
Meanwhile, Athos, in his concealment, waited in vain the signal
to recommence his work. Two long hours he waited in terrible
inaction. A death-like silence reigned in the room above. At
last he determined to discover the cause of this stillness. He
crept from his hole, and stood, hidden by the black drapery,
beneath the scaffold. Peeping out from the'drapery, he could see
the rows of halberdiers and musketeers round the scaffold, and the
first ranks of the populace, swaying and groaning like the sea.
" What is the matter, then ? " he asked himself, trembling more
than the cloth he was holding back. " The people are hurrying
on, the soldiers uhder arms, and among the spectators I see
D'Artagnan. What is he waiting for ? What is he looking at ?
Good God ! have they let the headsman escape ?"
Suddenly the dull beating of muffled drums filled the square.
The sound of heavy steps was heard above his head. The next
moment the very planks of the scaffold creaked with the weight of
an advancing procession, and the eager faces of the spectators
confirmed what a last hope at the bottom of his heart had pre-
vented him believing till then. At the same moment a well-known
voice above him pronounced these words :
"Colonel, I wish to speak to the people."
Athos shuddered from head to foot. It was the king speaking
on the scaffold. By his side stood a man wearing a mask, and
392
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
carrying an axe in his hand, which he afterwards laid upon the
block.
The sight of the mask excited a great amount of curiosity in the
people, the foremost of whom strained their eyes to discover who
it could be. But they could discern nothing but a man of middle
height, dressed in black, apparently of a certain age, for the end of
a grey beard peeped out from the bottom of the mask which con-
cealed his features.
The king's request had undoubtedly been acceded to by an
affirmative sign, for, in firm, sonorous accents, which vibrated in
the depths of Athos' heart, the king began his speech, explaining
his conduct, and counselling them for the welfare of England.
He was interrupted by the noise of the axe grating on the block.
" Do not touch the axe," said the king, and resumed his speech.
At the end of his speech, the king looked tenderly round upon
the people. Then, unfastening the diamond ornament which the
queen had sent him, he placed it in the hands of the priest who
accompanied Juxon. Then he drew from his breast a little cross
set in diamonds, which, like the order, had been the gift of
Henrietta Maria.
" Sir," said he to the priest, " I shall keep this cross in my hand
till the last moment. You will take it from me when I am dead."
He then took his hat from his head, and threw it on the ground.
One by one, he undid the buttons of his doublet, took it off, and
deposited it by the side of his hat. Then, as it was cold, he asked
for his gown, which was brought to him.
All the preparations were made with a frightful calmness.
One would have thought the king was going to bed, and not to his
coffin.
" Will these be in your way ?" he said to the executioner, raising
his long locks ; "if so they can be tied up."
Charles accompanied these words with a look designed to pene-
trate the mask of the unknown headsman. His calm, noble gaze
forced the man to turn away his head, and the king repeated his
question.
" It will do," replied the man in a deep voice, "if you separate
them across the neck."
" This block is very low; is there no other to be had ?"
" It is the usual block," answered the man in the mask.
" Do you think you can behead me with a single blow ?" asked
the king.
" I hope so," was the reply. There was something so strange
in these three words that everybody except the king, shuddered,
REMEMBERt
593
"I do not wish to be taken by surprise," added the king. "X
shall kneel down to pray, do not strike then."
" When shall I strike ?"
" When I shall lay my head on the block, and say 1 Remember I'
—then strike boldly."
" Gentlemen," said the king to those around him, " I leave
you to brave the tempest, and go before you to a kingdom which
knows no storms. Farewell."
Then he knelt down, made the sign of the cross, and lowering
his face to the planks, as if he would have kissed them, said in a
low tone, in French, " Comte de la Fere, are you there ?"
" Yes, your majesty," he answered, trembling.
" Faithful friend, noble heart!" said the king, " I should not
have been rescued. I have addressed my people, and I have
spoken to God; last of all I speak to you. To maintain a
cause which I believe sacred, I have lost the throne, and my
children their inheritance. A million in gold remains: I buried
it in the cellars of Newcastle Keep. You only know that this
money exists. Make use of it, then, whenever you think it will be
most useful, for my eldest son's welfare. And now, farewell."
" Farewell, saintly, martyred majesty," lisped Athos, chilled with
terror.
A moment's silence ensued, and then, in a full, sonorous voice,
the king said, "Remember!"
He had scarcely uttered the word when a heavy blow shook the
scaffold, and where Athos stood immovable a warm drop fell upon
his brow. He reeled back with a shudder, and the same moment
the drops became a black torrent.
Athos fell on his knees, and remained some moments, as if bewil-
dered or stunned. At last he rose, and taking his handkerchief,
steeped it in the blood of the martyred king.' Then, as the crowd
gradually dispersed, he leapt down, crept from behind the drapery,
gliding between two horses, mingled with the crowd, and was the
first to arrive at the inn.
Haying gained his room, he raised his hand to his forehead, and
finding his fingers covered with the king's blood, fell down insen-
sibie,
394
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER LXV.
the man in the mask.
The snow was falling thick, and frozen. Aramis was the next to
come in, and to discover Athos almost insensible. But at the first
words he uttered, the Count roused from the kind of lethargy in
which he had sunk.
" Are you wounded ?" cried Aramis.
"No, this is his; blood."
"Where were you, then ?"
"Where you left me, under the scaffold.'*
" Did you see it all?"
"No, but I heard all. God preserve me from another such hour
as I have just passed."
"Here is the order he gave me, and the cross I took from his
hand; he desired they should be returned to the queen."
" Then here's a handkerchief to wrap them in," replied Athos,
drawing from his pocket the one he had steeped in the king's
blood.
"And what," he continued, "has been done with the wretched
body?"
" By order of Cromwell, royal honours will be accorded to it.
The doctors are busied embalming the corpse, and when ready it
will be placed in a lighted chapel."
" Mockery," muttered Athos, savagely; " royal honours to one
whom they have murdered !"
" Well, cheer up," said a loud voice from the staircase, which
Porthos had just mounted. "We are all mortal, my poor
friends."
"You are late, my dear Porthos."
" Yes, there were some people on the way who delayed me.
The wretches were dancing. I took one of them by the throat,
and think I throttled him a little. Just then a patrol rode up.
Luckily the man I had had most to do with was some minutes
before he could speak, so I took advantage of his silence to walk
off."
" Have you seen D'Artagnan ?"
"We got separated in the crowd, and I could not find hirti
again."
" Oh !" said Athos, satirically, " I saw him. He was in the
front row of the crowd, admirably placed for seeing; and, as on
THE MAN IN THE MASK,
395
the whole, the sight was curious, he probably wished to stay to the
end."
"Ah! Count de la Fbre," said a calm voice, though hoarse
with running, " is it you who calumniate the absent ?"
This reproof stung Athos to the heart, but as the impression
produced by seeing D'Artagnan foremost in a coarse, ferocious
crowd had been very strong, he contented himself with replying:
"I do not calumniate you, my friend. They were anxious
about you here, and I told them where you were."
So saying, he stretched out his hand, but the other pretended
not to see it, and he let it drop again slowly by his side.
" Ugh ! I am tired," cried D'Artagnan, sitting down.
" Drink a glass of port," said Aramis; "it will refresh you."
" Yes, let us drink," said Athos, anxious to make it up by hob-
nobbing glasses with D'Artagnan, "let us drink, and get away
from this hateful country."
" You are in a hurry, sir count," said D'Artagnan.
" But what would you have us do here, now that the king is
dead ?"
" Go, sir count," replied D'Artagnan, carelessly; " you see
nothing to keep you a little longer in England? Well, for my
part, I, a bloodthirsty ruffian, who can go and stand close to a
scaffold, in order to have a better view of the king's execution—I
remain."
Athos turned pale. Every reproach his friend made struck
deeply into his heart.
" Hang it!" said Porthos, a little perplexed between the two,
" I suppose, as I came with you, I must leave with you. I can't
leave you alone in this abominable country."
" Thanks, my worthy friend. So then I have a little adventure
to propose to you when the count is gone. I want to find out
who was the man in the mask, who so obligingly offered to cut
the king's throat."
"A man in a mask?"-cried Athos. "You did not let the
executioner escape, then ?"
" The executioner is still in the cellar, where, I presume, he has
had a few words' conversation with mine host's bottles. But you
remind me. Mousqueton!"
" Sir," answered a voice from the depths of the earth.
" Let out your prisoner. All is over."
" But," said Athos, " who is the wretch who has dared to raise
his hand against his king ?"
" An amateur headsman," replied Aramis, " who, however, does
not handle the axe amiss."
396
TWENTY YEARS AFTER*
" Did you not see his face ?" asked. Athos.
" He wore a mask."
" But you, Aramis, who were close to hipi ?"
" I could see nothing but a grey beard under the bottom of the
mask."
"Then it must be a man of a certain age."
" Oh !" said D'Artagnan, " that matters little. When one puts
on a mask, it is not difficult to wear a beard under it,"
" I am sorry I did not follow him," said Porthos.
"Well, my dear Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "that's the very
thing which it came into my head to do."
Athos understood it all now.
"Forgive me, my friend," he said, offering his hand to
D'Artagnan.
" Well," said D'Artagnan, " while I was looking on, the fancy
took me to discover who this masked individual might be. Well,
I looked about for Porthos, and as I did so, I saw near me a
head which had been broken, but which, for better or worse, had
been mended with black silk. Humph !" thought I, " that looks
like my cut; I fancy I must have mended that skull somewhere or
other. And in fact, it was that unfortunate Scotchman, Parry's
brother, you know, on whom Groslow amused himself by trying
his strength. Well, this man was making signs to another at my
left, and turning round, I recognised the honest Grimaud. ' Oh 1'
said I to him. Grimaud turned round with a jerk, recognised me,
and pointed to the man in the mask. ' Eh ?' said he, which
meant, ' Do you see him ?' ' Parbleu !' I answered, and we
perfectly understood one another. Well, everything finished you
know how. The mob dispersed. I made a sign to Grimaud and
the Scotchman, and we all three retired into a corner of the square.
I saw the executioner return into the king's room, change his
clothes, put on a black hat and a large cloak, and disappear. Five
minutes later he came down the grand staircase."
" You followed him ?" cried Athos.
" I should think so, but not without difficulty. Every minute
he turned round, and thus obliged us to conceal ourselves. I
might have gone up to him and killed him. But I am not selfish;
and I thought it might console you alt a little to have a share in
the matter. So we followed him through the lowest streets in the
city, and", in half an hour's time, he stopped before a small isolated
house. Grimaud drew out a pistol. ' Eh ?' said he, showing it.
I held back his arm. The man in the mask stopped before a low
door, and drew out a key; but before he placed it in the lock, he
THE MAN IN THE MASN.
turned round to see if he was not followed. Grimaud and I had
got behind a tree, and the Scotchman having nowhere to hide
himself, threw himself on his face in the road. Next moment the
door opened, and the man disappeared. I placed the Scotchman
at the door by which he entered, making a sign to him to follow
the man wherever he might go, if he came out again. Then going
round the house, I placed Grimaud at the other exit, and here I
am. Our game is beaten up. Now for the tally-ho !"
Athos threw himself into D'Artagnan's arms.
" Humph !" said Porthos. " Don't you think the executioner
might be Master Cromwell himself, who, to make sure of his affair,
undertook it himself?"
" Ah ! just so. Cromwell is stout and short, and this man thin
and lank, and rather tall than otherwise."
" Some condemned soldier, perhaps," suggested Athos, " whom
they have pardoned at the price of this deed."
" No, nO," continued D'Artagnan. " It was not the measured
step of a foot-soldier, nor the easy gait of a horseman. If I am
not mistaken, it was a gentleman's walk."
" A gentleman !" exclaimed Athos. " Impossible ! It would be
a disgrace to his whole family."
" Fine sport, by Jove !" cried Porthos, with a laugh that shook
the windows. " Fine sport!"
"Swords!" cried Aramis, "swords! and let us not lose a
moment."
The four friends resumed their own clothes, girt on their swords,
ordered Mousqueton and Blaisois to pay the bill, and to arrange
everything for immediate departure, and, wrapped in their large
cloaks, left in search of their game.
The night was dark, the snow still falling, and the streets de-
serted. D'Artagnan led the way through the intricate windings and
narrow alleys of the city, and ere long they had reached the house
in question. For a moment D'Artagnan thought that Parry's
brother had disappeared; but he was mistaken. The robust
Scotchman, accustomed to the snows of his native hills, had
stretched himself against a post, and like a fallen statue, insensible
to the inclemencies of the weather, had allowed the snow to cov'er
him. He rose, however, as they approached.
" Come," said Athos, " here's another good servant. Really,
honest men are not so scarce as I thought."
" Don't be in a hurry to weave crowns for our Scotchman. I
elieve the fellow is here on his own account; for I have heard
that these gentlemen born beyond the Tweed are very vindictive.
I should not like to be Groslow, if he meets him."
39§
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Well ?" said Athos to the man in English.
"No one has come out," he replied.
" Then Porthos and Aramis, will you remain with this man,
while we go round to Grimaud ?"
Grimaud had made himself a kind of sentry-box out of a hollow
willow, and as they drew near, he put his head out and gave a low
whistle.
" Oh !" said Athos.
"Yes," replied Grimaud.
" Well, has anybody come out ? "
" No, but somebody has gone in."
"A man or a woman?"
" A man." At the same time he pointed to a window, through
the shutters of which a faint light streamed.
They returned round the house to fetch Porthos and Aramis.
" Have you seen anything ?" they asked.
"No, but we are going to," replied D'Artagnan, pointing to
Grimaud, who had already climbed some five or six feet from the
ground.
All four came up together. Grimaud continued to climb like a
cat, and succeeded at last in catching hold of a hook which served
to keep one of the shutters back when opened. Then resting his
foot on a small ledge, he made a sign to show that he was all right
" Well ?" asked D'Artagnan.
Grimaud showed his closed hand, with two fingers spread out.
" Speak," said Athos; " we cannot see your signs. How many
are they?"
" Two. One opposite to me, the other with his back to me."
" Good. And the man opposite to you is ?"
" The man I saw go in."
" Do you know him ? "
" I thought I recognised him, and was not mistaken, Short and
stout."
"Who is it?" they all asked together in a low tone,
" General Oliver Cromwell."
The four friends looked at one another.
""And the other ?" asked Athos.
" Thin and lank."
" The executioner," said D'Artagnan and Aramlsi at the Same
time.
" I can see nothing but his back," resumed Grimaud. " But
wait. He is moving; and if he has taken off his mask I shall be
able to see. Ah ! «•"
THE MAN IN THE MASH.
m
And, as if struck in the heart, he let go the hook, and dropped
with a groan.
"Did you see him?" they all asked.
"Yes," said Grimaud, with his hair standing on end.
"The thin and spare man ?"
"Yes."
"The executioner, in short?" asked Aramis.
"Yes."
"And who is it ?" said Porthos.
" He—he—" murmured Grimaud, pale as death, and seizing his
master's hand.
"Who? He?" asked Athos.
"Mordaunt!" replied Grimaud.
D'Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis uttered a cry of joy.
Athos, stepped back, and passed his hand over his brow.
"Fatality!" he muttered.
CHAPTER LXVI.
Cromwell's house.
It was, in fact, Mordaunt, whom D'Artagnan had followed, with-
out knowing it. On entering the house he had taken off his mask
and the false beard, and mounting a staircase, had opened a door,
and in a room lighted by a single lamp, found himself face to face
with a man seated behind a desk.
This man was Cromwell.
Cromwell had two or three of these retreats in London, un-
known except to the most intimate of his friends. . Now Mordaunt
was among these.
" It is you, Mordaunt," he said. " You are late."
" General, I wished to see the ceremony to the end, which de-
layed me."
"Ah ! I scarcely thought you were so curious as that."
"I am always curious to see the downfall of your honour's
enemies, and that one was not among the least of them. But
you, general, were you not at Whitehall ?"
" No," said Cromwell.
• There was a moment's silence.
"T " Have you had any account of it ?"
"None. I have been here since the morning, I ©illy know
that there was a conspiracy to rescue the king,"
4o6
TWENTY YEARS AFTM.
" Ah, you knew that," said Mordaunt.
" It matters little. Four men, disguised as workmen, were to
get the king out of prison, and take him to Greenwich, where a
skiff was waiting."
" And, knowing all that, your honour remained here, far from
the city, calm and inactive ?"
" Calm ? yes," replied Cromwell. " But who told you I was
inactive ?"
" But—if the plot had succeeded ?"
" I wished it to do so."
" I thought your excellence considered the death of Charles I.
as a misfortune necessary to the welfare of England ?"
"Yes, his death; but it would have been better'not on the
scaffold."
"Why so ?" asked Mordaunt.
Cromwell smiled. " Because it could have been said that 1
had had him condemned for the sake of justice, and had let him
escape out of pity."
" But if he had escaped ?"
" Impossible ; my precautions were taken."
" And does your honour know the four men who undertook to
rescue him ?"
" The four Frenchmen, of whom two were sent by the queen to
her husband, and two by Mazarin to me."
" And do you think Mazarin commissioned them to act as they
have done ?"
" It is possible. But he will not avow it."
" How so ?"
"Because they failed."
" Your honour gave me two of these Frenchmen when they
were only fighting for Charles I. Now that they are guilty of
a conspiracy against England, will your honqpr give me' all four
of them ?"
" Take them," said Cromwell.
Mordaunt bowed with a smile of triumphant ferocity.
" Did the people shout at all ?" Cromwell asked.
" Very little, except ' Long live Cromwell!f"
" Where were you placed ?"
Mordaunt tried for a moment to read in the general's fac& if
this was simply a useless question, or whether he knew everything.
But his piercing eye could not penetrate the sombre depths- of
Cromwell's.
" I was placed so as to hear and see everything," he answered
CROMWELL'S HOUSE.
401
It was now Cromwell's turn to look fixedly at Mordaunt, and
Mordaunt's to make himself impenetrable.
" It appears," said Cromwell, "that this improvised executioner
did his duty very well. The blow, so they told me at least, was
struck with a master's hand."
Mordaunt remembered that Cromwell had told him he had had
no detailed account, and he was now quite convinced that the
general had been present at the execution, hidden behind some
curtain or blind.
" Perhaps it was some one in the trade ?" said Cromwell.
" Do you think so, sir ? He did not look like an executioner."
" And who else than ap executioner would have wished to fill
that horrible office ?"
"But," said Mordaunt, "it might have been some personal
enemy of the king, who may have made a vow of vengeance, and
accomplished it in this manner."
"Possibly."
" And if that were the case, would your honour condemn his
action ?"
" It is not for me to judge. It rests between him and God."
" But if your honour knew this man ?"
" I neither know, nor wish to know him. Provided Charles is
dead, it is the axe, not the man, we must thank."
" And yet, without the man, the king would have been rescued."
Cromwell smiled.
" They would'have carried him to Greenwich," he said, "and
put him on board a skiff, with five barrels of powder in the hold.
Once out at sea, you are too good a politician not to understand
the rest, Mordaunt."
"Yes, they would all have been blown up."
"Just so. The explosion would have done what the axe had
failed to do. They would have said that the king had escaped
human justice, and been overtaken by God's arm. You see now
why I did not care to know your gentleman in a mask."
Mordaunt bowed humbly. " Sir," he said, "'you are a profound
thinker, and your plan was sublime."
" Say absurd, since it is become useless. The only sublime
ideas in politics are those which bear fruit. So, to-night, Mor-
daunt, go to Greenwich, and ask for the captain of the skiff
' Lightning.' Show him a white handkerchief knotted at the four
corners, and tell the crew to disembark, and carry the powder back
to the Arsenal, unless indeed "
"Unless?" •
26
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" This skiff might be of use to you for your personal projects."
" Oh my lord, my lord !"
"That title," said Cromwell, laughing, "is all very well here,
but take care a word like that does not escape in public."
" But your honour will soon be called so generally."
" I hope so, at least," said Cromwell, rising and putting on his
cloak.
" Then," said Mordaunt, " your honour gives me full power ?"
" Certainly."
"Thank you, thank you."
Cromwell turned as he was going.
"Are you armed ?" he asked.
" I have my sword."
" And no one waiting for you outside ?"
" No."
" Then you had better come with me."
" Thank you, sir, but the way by the subterranean passage would
take me too much time, and I have none to lose."
Cromwell placed his hand on a hidden handle, and opened a
door so well concealed by the tapestry, that the most practised eye
could not have discovered it, and which closed after him with
a spring. This door communicated with a subterranean passage,
leading under the street to a grotto in the garden of a house about
a hundred yards from that of the future Protector.
It was just before this that Grimaud had perceived the two men
seated together.
D'Artagnan was the first to recover from his surprise.
" Mordaunt," he cried, " thank heaven !"
" Yes," said Porthos, " let us knock the door in, and fall upon
him."
"No," replied D'Artagnan, "no noise. Now, Grimaud, you
come here, climb up to the window again, and tell us if Mordaunt
is alone, and whether he is preparing to go out or to go to bed.
If he comes out, we shall catch him. If he stays in, we will
break in the window. It is easier and less noisy than the door."
Grimaud began to scale the wall again.
" Keep guard at the other door, Athos and Aramis. Porthos
and I will stay here."
The friends obeyed.
" He is alone," said Grimaud.
"We did not see his companion come out."
"He may have gone by the other door."
" What is he doing ?"
CROMWELL'S HOUSE,,
4Q3
"Putting on his cloak and gloves."
" He is ours," muttered D'Artagnan.
Porthos mechanically drew his dagger from the scabbard.
"Put it up again, my friend," said D'Artagnan, ''We must
proceed in an orderly manner."
"Hush !" said Grimaud, "he is coming out. He has put out
the lamp, I can see nothing now."
" Get down then, get down."
Grimaud leapt down, and the snow deadened the noise of his
faH.
"Now, go and tell Athos and Aramis to stand on each side of
their door, and clap their hands if they catch him. We will do
the same."
The next moment the door opened, and Mordaunt appeared on
the threshold, face to face with D'Artagnan. Porthos clapped his
hands, and the other two came running round. Mordaunt was
livid, but he uttered no cry, nor called for assistance. D'Artagnan
quietly pushed him in again, and by the light of a lamp on the
staircase, made him ascend the steps backward one by one, keep-
ing his eyes all the time on Mordaunt's hands, who, however,
knowing that it was useless, attempted no resistance. At last they
stood face to face in the very room where ten minutes before
Mordaunt had been talking to Cromwell.
Porthos came up behind, and unhooking the lamp on the stair-
case re-lit that in the room. Athos and Aramis entered last and
locked the door after them.
" Oblige me by taking a seat," said D'Artagnan, pushing a chair
towards Mordaunt, who sat down, pale but calm. Aramis, Por-
thos, and D'Artagnan drew their chairs near him. Athos alone
kept away, and sat in the furthest corner of the room, as if deter-
mined to be merely a spectator of the proceedings. He seemed
to be quite overcome. Porthos rubbed his hands in feverish im-
patience. Aramis bit his lips till the blood came.
D'Artagnan alone was calm, at least in appearance.
" Monsieur Mordaunt," he said, " since, after running after one
another so long, chance has at last brought us together, let us have
a little conversation, if you please."
26—2
404
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER LXVII.
conversational.
Though Mordaunt had been so completely taken by surprise, and
had mounted the stairs under the impression of utter confusion,
when once seated he recovered himself, as it were, and prepared
to seize any possible opportunity of escaping. His eye wandered
to a long stout sword on his flank, and he instinctively slipped it
round within reach of his right hand.
D'Artagnan was waiting for a reply to his remark, and said
nothing. Aramis muttered to himself, " We shall hear nothing but
the usual commonplace things."
Porthos sucked his moustache, muttering, "A good deal of
ceremony here about crushing an adder." Athos shrunk into his
corner, pale and motionless as a bas-relief.
The silence, however, could not last for ever. So D'Artagnan
began:
"Sir," he said, with desperate politeness, "it seems to me that
you change your costume almost as rapidly as I have seen the
Italian mummers do, whom the Cardinal Mazarin brought over
from Bergamo, and whom he doubtless took you to see, during
your travels in France."
Mordaunt did not reply.
"Just now," D'Artagnan continued, "you were disguised—I
mean to say, attired—as a murderer, and now "
" And now I look very much like a man who is going to be
murdered."
" Oh ! sir," answered D'Artagnan, " how can you talk like that,
when you are in the company of gentlemen, and have such an
excellent sword at your side."
"No sword is good enough to be of any use against four
swords and four daggers."
"Well, that is scarcely the question. I had the honour of
asking you why you altered your costume. Surely the mask and
beard suited you very well, and as to the axe, I do not think it
would be out of keeping even at this moment."
"Because, remembering the scene at Armentieres, I thought
I should find four axes for one, as I was to meet four execu-
tioners."
"Sir," replied D'Artagnan, in the calmest manner possible
" you are very young; I shall therefore overlook your frivolous.
CON VERS A T10NAL.
femarks. What took place at Armentieres has no Connection
whatever with the present occasion. We could scarcely have
requested your mother to take a sword and fight with us."
"Aha! It's a duel then?" cried Mordaunt, as if disposed to
reply at once to the provocation.
Porthos rose, always ready for this kind of adventure.
" Pardon me," said D'Artagnan. " Do not let us be in a hurry.
We will arrange the matter rather better. Confess, Monsieur
Mordaunt, that you are anxious to kill some of us."
" All," replied Mordaunt.
"Then,' my dear sir, I am convinced that these gentlemen
return your kind wishes, and will be delighted to kill you also. Of
course they will do so as honourable gentlemen, and the best proof
I can furnish is this "
So saying, he threw his hat on the ground, pushed back his
chair to the wall, and bowed to Mordaunt with true French grace.
"At your service, sir," he continued. "My sword is shorter
than yours, it's true, but bah ! I hope the arm will make up for
the sword."
" Halt!" cried Porthos, coming forward. " I begin, and that's
logic."
" Allow me, Porthos," said Aramis.
Athos did not move. You might have taken him for a statue.
"Gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "you shall have your turn.
Monsieur Mordaunt dislikes you sufficiently not to refuse you
afterwards. You can see it in his eye. So pray keep your places,
like Athos, whose calmness is most laudable. Besides, we will
have no words about it. I have a particular business to settle
with this gentleman, and I shall and will begin."
Porthos and Aramis drew back disappointed; and, drawing his
sword, D'Artagnan turned to his adversary.
" Sir,, I am waiting for you."
" And for my part, gentlemen, I admire you. You are disputing
which shall fight me first, and you do not consult me, who am
most concerned in the matter. I hate you all, but not equally. I
claim the right to choose my opponent. If you refuse this right,
you may kill me, for I shall not fight."
"It is but fair," said Porthos and Aramis, hoping he would
choose one of them.
" Well, then," said Mordaunt, " I choose for my adversary the
man who, not thinking himself worthy to be called Comte de la
Fere, calls himself Athos."
Athos sprang up, but after an instant of motionless silence, he
406
TWENTY YEAkS AFTEk.
said, to the astonishment of his friends, " Monsieur Mordaunt, a
duel between us is impossible. Give this honour to somebody
else." And he sat down.
"Ah!" said Mordaunt with a snger, "there's one who is afraid."
" Zounds!" cried D'Artagnan, bounding towards him, who
says that Athos is afraid ?"
< "Let him go on, D'Artagnan," said Athos, with a smile of
sadness and contempt.
" Is it your decision, Athos ?" resumed the Gascon.
"Yes, irrevocably."
"You hear, sir," said D'Artagnan, turning to Mordaunt,
" choose one of us to replace the Comte de la Fere."
" As long as I don't fight with him, it is the same to me with
whom I fight. Put your names into a hat, and draw lots."
" At least that will conciliate us all," said Aramis.
" I should never have thought of that," said Porthos, " and yet
it's a very simple plan."
Aramis went to Cromwell's desk, and wrote the three names on
slips of paper, which he threw into a hat.
Mordaunt drew one and threw it on the table.
" Ah ! serpent," muttered D'Artagnan; " I would give my chance
of a captaincy in the ' Mousquetaires ' for that to be my name."
Aramis opened the paper, and in a voice trembling with hate and
vengeance, read, "D'Artagnan."
The Gascon uttered a cry of joy, and turning to Mordaunt,—
" I hope, sir," said he, " you have no objection1 to make."
" None whatever," replied the other, drawing his sword and rest-
ing the point on his boot."
The moment that D'Artagnan saw that his wish was accom-
plished, and his man would not escape him, he recovered his usual
tranquillity. He turned up his cuffs neatly, and rubbed the sole
of his right boot on the floor, but did not fail, however, to remark
that Mordaunt was looking about him in a singular manner.
" Are you ready, sir ?" he said at last.
" I was waiting for you, sir," said Mordaunt, raising his head
and casting at his opponent a look which it would be impossible
to describe.
" Well, then," said the Gascon, " take care of yourself, for I am
not a bad hand at the rapier."
"Nor I either."
"So much the better. That sets my mind at rest. Defend
yourself!"
" One minute," said the young man; " give me your word, gen-
CON VERS A TIONAL.
tlemen,' that you will not attack me otherwise than one after the
other."
" Is it' to have the pleasure of insulting us that you say that,
little serpent ?"
" No, but to set my mind at rest, as you said just now."
"It is for something else than that, I imagine," muttered
D'Artagnan, shaking his head doubtfully.
" On the honour of gentlemen," said Aramis and Porthos.
" In that case, gentlemen, have the kindness to retire into the
corners, and leave us room. We shall want it."
"Yes, gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "we must not leave this
person the slightest pretext for behaving badly, which, with all due
respect, I fancy he is anxious to do."
This new attack made no impression on Mordaunt. The space
was cleared, the two lamps placqd on Cromwell's desk, in order
that the combatants might have as much light as possible; and
the swords crossed.
D'Artagnan was too good a swordsman to trifle with his op-
ponent. He made a rapid and brilliant feint, which Mordaunt
parried.
"Aha !" he cried, with a smile of satisfaction.
And without losing a minute, thinking he saw an opening, he
thrust right in, and forced Mordaunt to parry a counterquart so
fine that the point of the weapon might have turned within a wed-
ding ring.
This time it was Mordaunt who smiled.
"Ah, sir," said D'Artagnan, "you have a wicked smile. It
must have been the devil who taught it you, was it not?"
Mordaunt replied by trying his opponent's weapon with an
amount of strength which the Gascon was astonished to find in
a form apparently so weak; but, thanks to a parry no less clever
than that which Mordaunt had just achieved, he succeeded in
meeting his sword, which slid along his own without touching
his chest.
Mordaunt rapidly sprang back a step.
"Ah, you lose ground, you are turning? Well, as you please.
I even gain something by it, for I no longer see that wicked smile
of yours. You have no idea what a false look you have, particu-
larly when you are afraid. Look at my eyes, and you will see
what your looking-glass never showed you—a frank and honourable
countenance."
To this flow of words, not perhaps in the best taste, but charac-
teristic of D'Artagnan, whose principal object was to divert his
Twenty years aetM.
opponent's attention, Mordaunt did not reply, but, continuing to
turn round, he succeeded in changing places with D'Artagnan.
He smiled more and more, and his smile began to make the
Gascon anxious.
" Come, come," said D'Artagnan, " we must finish with this,"
and in his turn he pressed Mordaunt hard, who continued to
lose ground, but evidently on purpose, and without letting his
sword leave the line for a moment. However, as they were fight-
ing in a room, and had not space to go on like that for ever,
Mordaunt's foot at last touched the wall, against which he rested
his left hand.
" Ah, this time you cannot lose ground, my fine friend," ex-
claimed D'Artagnan. "Gentlemen, did you ever see a scorpion
pinned to a wall ? No. Well, then, you shall see it now."
In a second D'Artagnan had made three terrible thrusts at
Mordaunt, all of which touched but only pricked him. The
three friends looked on panting and astonished. At last D'Artagnan,
having got up too close, stepped back to prepare a fourth thrust,
but the moment when, after a fine, quick feint, he was attacking
as sharply as lightning, the wall seemed to give way, Mordaunt
disappeared through the opening, and D'Artagnan's sword, caught
between the panels, shivered like glass. D'Artagnan sprang
back; the wall had closed again.
Mordaunt, in fact, while defending himself, had manoeuvred so
as to reach the secret door by which Cromwell had left, had felt
for the handle with his left hand, turned it, and disappeared.
The Gascon uttered a furious imprecation, which was answered
by a wild laugh on the other side of the iron panel.
" Help me, gentlemen," cried D'Artagnan, " We must break in
this door."
" He escapes us," growled Porthos, pushing his huge shoulder
against the hinges, but in vain. "'Sblood, he escapes us."
"So much the better," muttered Athos.
" I thought as much," said D'Artagnan, wasting his strength in
useless efforts. " Zounds, I thought as much, when the wretch
kept moving round the room. I thought he was up to some-
thing !"
" It's a misfortune which his friend, the devil, sends us," said
Aramis.
" It's a piece of good fortune sent from heaven," said Athos,
evidently pleased.
" Really !" said D'Artagnan, abandoning the attempt to burst
open the panel after several ineffectual attempts, "Athos, I cannot
CONVERSA TlOiVAl.
imagine how you can talk to us in that way. You cannot under-
stand the position we are in. In this kind of game, not to kill, is
to let one's self be killed. This wretched fellow will be sending us
a hundred Iron-sided beasts who will pick us off like berries in
this place. Come, come, we must be off. If we stay here five
minutes more, there's an end of us."
"Yes, you are right."
" But where shall we go to ?" asked Porthos.
"To the hotel, to be sure, to get our baggage and horses; and
from there, if it please God, to France, where, at least, I under-
stand the architecture of the houses."
So, suiting the action to the word, D'Artagnan thrust the remains
of his sword into its scabbard, picked up his hat, and ran down
the stairs followed by the others.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
the skiff "lightning."
MordaUnt glided through the subterranean passage, and, gaining
the neighbouring house, stopped to take breath.
" Good," said he, " a mere nothing. Scratches, that is all.
Now to my work."
He walked on at a quick pace, till he reached a neighbouring
cavalry-barrack, where he happened to be known. Here he bor-
rowed a horse, the best in the stables, and in a quarter of an hour
was at Greenwich.
"'Tis well," said he, as he reached the river bank. "I am
half an hour before them. Now," he added, rising in the stirrup,
and looking about him, " which, I wonder, is the 'Lightning ?'"
At this moment, as if to reply to his words, a man lying on a
heap of cables rose and advanced a few steps towards him. Mor-
daunt drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and tying a knot at
each corner—the signal agreed upon—waved it in the air, and the
man came up to him. He was wrapped in a large rough cape,
which concealed his form and partly his face.
"Do you wish to go on the water, sir?" said the sailor.
." Yes, just so. Along the Isle of Dogs."
" And perhaps you have a preference for one boat more than
another. You would like one that sails as rapidly "
" As lightning," interrupted Mordaunt.
4io
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Then mine is the boat you want, sir. I'm your man."
" I begin to think so, particularly if you have not forgotten a
certain signal."
" Here it is, sir," and the sailor took from his coat a handkerchief,
tied at each corner.
" Good; quite right !" cried Mordaunt, springing off his horse.
" There is no time to lose; now take my horse to the nearest inn,
and conduct me to your vessel."
" But," asked the sailor, "where are your companions ? I thought
there were four of you."
"Listen to me, sir; I'm not the man you take me for; you are
in Captain Rogers's post, are you not? under orders from General
Cromwell ? Mine, also, are from him !"
" Indeed, sir, I recognise you; you are Captain Mordaunt.
Don't be afraid, you are with a friend. I am Captain Groslow.
The general remembered that I had formerly been a naval officer,
and he gave me the command of this expedition; has anything
new occurred ?"
"Nothing."
" I thought, perhaps, that the king's death "
"It has only hastened their flight; in ten minutes they will,
perhaps, be here. I am going to embark with you. I wish to aid
in the deed of vengeance. All is ready, I suppose ?'•'
"Yes."
" The cargo on board ?"
"Yes—and we are sailing from Oporto to Antwerp, remember."
"'Tis well."
They then went down to the Thames. A boat was fastened to
the shore by a chain fixed to a stake. Groslow jumped in, followed
by Mordaunt, and in five minutes they were quite away from that
world of houses which then crowded the outskirts of London; and
Mordaunt could discern the little vessel riding at anchor near the
Isle of Dogs. When they reached the side of this felucca, Mor-
daunt, dexterous in his eager desire for vengeance, seized a rope,
and climbed up the sides of the vessel with a coolness and agility
very rare among landsmen. He went with .Groslow to the cap-
tain's berth—a sort of temporary cabin of planks—for the chief
apartment had been given up by Captain Rogers to the passengers,
who were to be accommodated at the other extremity of the boat.
" They will have nothing to do with this side of the ship, then,"
said Mordaunt.
"Nothing at ail."
"That's a capital arrangement. Return to Greenwich, and
THE SKIEE " LIGHTNING."
4it
bring them here. I shall hide myself in your cabin. You have a
long boat ?"
" That in which we came."
" It appeared light, and well-constructed."
"Quite a canoe."
" Fasten it to the poop with ropes—put the oars into it, so that
it may follow in the track, and that there will be nothing to do
except to cut the cord away. Put a good supply of rum and
biscuit in it for the seamen; should the night happen to be stormy,
they will not be sorry to find something to console themselves
with."
. " All shall be done. Do you wish to see the powder-room ?"
"No; when you return, I will put the match myself; but be
careful to conceal your face, so that you cannot be recognised by
them."
"Never fear."
"There's ten o'clock striking, at Greenwich."
Groslow, then, having given the sailor on duty an order to be
On the watch with more than usual attention, went down into the
long boat, and soon reached Greenwich. The wind was chilly,
and the jetty was deserted as he approached it; but he had no
sooner landed, than he heard a noise of horses galloping upon the
paved road.
These horsemen were our friends, or rather, an avant-garde,
composed of D'Artagnan and Athos. As soon as they arrived at
the spot where Groslow stood, they stopped, as if guessing that he
was the man they wanted. Athos alighted, and calmly opened
the handkerchief tied at each corner, and unfolded it; whilst
D'Artagnan, ever cautious, remained on horseback, one hand upon
his arms, leaning anxiously forward.
On seeing the appointed signal, Groslow, who had, at first, crept
behind one of the cannon planted on that spot, walked straight up
to the gentlemen. He was so well wrapt up in his cloak that it
would have been impossible to have seen his face even if the
night had not been so dark as to render any precaution superfluous;
nevertheless, the keen glance of Athos perceived that it was not
Rogers who stood before them.
" What do you want with us ?" he asked of Groslow.
"I wish to inform you,, my lord," replied Groslow, with an Irish
accent, feigned of course, " that if you are looking for Captain
Rogers you will not find him. He fell down this morning and
broke his leg; but .I'm his cousin; he told me everything, and
desired me to look out for, and to conduct you to any place named
412
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
by the four gentlemen who should bring me a handkerchief tied
at each corner, like that one which you hold, and one which I
have in my pocket."
And he drew out the handkerchief.
" Was that all he said ?" inquired Athos.
"No, my lord; he said you had engaged to pay seventy pounds
if I landed you safe and sound at Boulogne, or any other port you
chose, in France."
" What do you think of all this ?" said Athos, in a low tone to
D'Artagnan, after explaining to him in French what the sailor had
said in English.
" It seems a likely story to me."
" And to me, too."
" Besides, we can but blow out his brains if he proves false,"
said the Gascon; " and you, Athos, you know something of every-
thing, and can be our captain. I dare say you know how to
navigate, should he fail us."
" My dear friend, you guess well; my father destined me for
the navy, and I have some vague notions about navigation."
"You see !" cried D'Artagnan.
They then summoned their friends, who, with Blaisois, Mous- 5
queton, and Grimaud, promptly joined them—leaving behind
them Parry, who was to take their horses back to London; and they
all proceeded instantly to the shore, and placed themselves in the
boat, which, rowed by Groslow, began rapidly to clear the coast.
" At last," exclaimed Porthos, " we are afloat."
"Alas !" said Athos, "we depart alone."
" Yes ; but all four together, and without a scratch; which is a
consolation."
"We are not yet arrived at our destination," observed the
prudent D'Artagnan; "beware of rencontres."
" Ah ! my friend !" cried Porthos; " like the crows, you always
bring bad omens. Who could intercept us in such a night as this
—pitch dark—when one does not see more than twenty yards
before one ?"
" Yes—but to-morrow morning "
" To-morrow we shall be at Boulogne; however, I like to hear
Monsieur d'Artagnan confess that he's afraid."
" I not only confess it, but am proud of it," returned the
Gascon; " I'm not such a rhinoceros as you are. Oho ! what's
that ?"
"The 'Lightning,'" answered the captain, "our felucca."
" We are then arrived ?" said Athos.
THE SKIFF " LIGHTNING."
413
They went on board, and the captain instantly conducted them
to the berth destined for them—a cabin which was to serve for all
purposes, and for the whole party; he then tried to slip away
under pretext of giving orders to some one."
" Stop a moment," cried D'Artagnan ; " pray how many men
have you on board, captain ?"
" I don't understand," was the reply.
" Explain it, Athos."
Groslow, on the question being interpreted, answered :
"Three, without counting myself."
" Oh !" exclaimed D'Artagnan. " I begin to be more at my
ease; however, whilst you settle yourselves, I shall make the'round
of the boat."
" As for me," said Porthos, " I will see to the supper.".
" A very good deed, Porthos," said the Gascon. " Athos, lend
me Grimaud, who in the society of his friend Parry, has, perhaps,
picked up a little English, and can act as my interpreter."
" Go, Grimaud," said Athos.
/ D'Artagnan, finding a lanthorn on the deck, took it up, and
with a pistol in his hand, he said fo the captain, in English,
" Come " (being, with the usual English oath, the only English
words he knew), and so saying, he descended to the lower deck.
This was divided into three compartments; one which was
covered by the floor of that room in which Athos, Porthos, and
Aramis were to pass the night; the second was to serve as the
sleeping room for the servants; the third, under the prow of the
ship, was underneath the temporary cabin in which Mordaunt was
concealed.
" Oho !" cried D'Artagnan, as he went down the steps of the
hatchway, preceded by the lanthorn ; " what a number of barrels !
one would think one was in the cave of Ali Baba. What is there
in them ?" he added, putting his lanthorn on one of the bins.
The captain seemed inclined to go upon deck again, but, con-
trolling himself, he answered :
"Port wine."
"Ah! port wine! 'tis a comfort," said the Gascon, "that we
shall not die of thirst; are they all full ?"
Grimaud translated the question, and Groslow, who was wiping
the perspiration from off his forehead, answered :
" Some full, others empty."
D'Artagnan struck the barrels with his hand, and having ascer-
tained that he spoke the truth, pushed his lanthorn, greatly to the
captain's alarm, into the interstices between the barrels, and finding
that there was nothing concealed in them,—
414 twenty years after,
"Come along," hp said; and he went towards the door of the
second compartment.
" Stop !" said the Englishman. " I have the key of that door;"
and he opened the door with a trembling hand, into the second
compartment, where Mousqueton and Blaisois were just going to
supper.
Here there was evidently nothing to seek, or to reprehend, and
they passed rapidly to examine the third compartment.
This was the room appropriated to the sailors. Two or three
hammocks hung up on the ceiling, a table and two benches, com-
posed all the. furniture. D'Artagnan picked up two or three old
sails, hung on the walls, and seeing nothing to suspect, regained,
by the hatchway, the deck of the vessel.
" And this room ?" he asked, pointing to the captain's cabin,
" That's my room," replied Groslow.
" Open the door."
The captain obeyed. D'Artagnan stretched out his arm, in
which he held the lanthorn, put his head in at the half-opened
door, and seeing that the cabin was nothing better than a shed,—
"Good !" he said. "If there is an army on board, it is not
here that it is hidden. Let us see what Porthos has found for
supper." And thanking the captain, he regained the state cabin,
where his friends were.
Porthos had found nothing; and fatigue had prevailed over
hunger. He had fallen asleep, and was in a profound slumber
when D'Artagnan returned. Athos and Aramis were beginning to
close their eyes, which they half opened when their companion
canie in again.
"Well ?" said Aramis.
"All is well; we may sleep tranquilly."'
On this assurance the two friends fell asleep; and D'Artagnan,
who was very- weary, bade good night to Grimaud, and laid him-
self down in his cloak, with a naked sword at his side, in such a
manner that his body might barricade the passage, and that it
should be impossible to enter the room without overturning him,
CHAPTER LXIX
port wine.
In ten minutes the masters slept; not so the servants—hungry and
uncomfortable.
" Grimaud," said Mousqueton to his companion, who had just
cbme in after his round with D'Artagnan, " art thou thirsty ?"
FORT WINE.
415
te As thirsty as a Scotchman !" was Grimaud's laconic reply.
And he sat down and began to cast up the accounts of his party,
'whose money, he managed,
" Oh law ! lackadaisy! I'm beginning to feel queer !" cried
Blaisois.
" If that's the case," said Mousqueton, with a learned air, "take
some nourishment."
" Do you call that nourishment ?" asked Blaisois, pointing to
the barley bread and the pot of beer.
" Blaisois," replied Mousqueton, " remember that bread is the
true nourishment of a Frenchman, who is not always able to get
bread : ask Grimaud,"
"Yes, but beer?" asked Blaisois, sharply; "is that their true
drink?"
" As to that," answered Mousqueton, puzzled how to get out of
the difficulty, " I must confess, that to me, beer is as disagreeable
as wine to the English,"
" How ? Monsieur Mousqueton ! How—the English—do they
dislike wine ?"
"They hate it."
" But I have seen them drink it."
"—As a punishment; for example, an English prince died one
day because he was put into a butt of Malmsey. I heard the
Chevalier d'Herblay say so."
"The fool!" cried Blaisois; "I wish I had been in his place."
" Thou canst be," said Grimaud, writing down his figures.
" How?" asked Blaisois ; " I can? Explain yourself."
Grimaud went on with his sum, and cast up the whole.
" Port 1" he said, extending his hand in the direction of the first
compartment examined by D'Artagnan and himself.
" How—those barrels I saw through the door ?"
" Port 1" replied Grimaud, who began a fresh sum.
" I have heard," said Blaisois, "that port is a very good.wine."
" Excellent!" cried Mousqueton, smacking his lips.
" Excellent!"
" Supposing these Englishmen would sell us a bottle," said the
honest Blaisois.
"Sell!" cried Mousqueton, about whom there was a remnant
of his ancient marauding character left. " One may well perceive,
young man, that you are still inexperienced. Why buy when
one can take?"
"To take?" answered Blaisois, "Tocovet one's neighbour's
goods is forbidden, I believe,"
416
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" What a childish reason !" said Mousqueton, condescendingly;
" yes, childish; I repeat the word. Where did you learn, pray, to
consider the English as your neighbours ?"
" The saying's true, dear Mouston; but I don't remember
where."
" Childish—still more childish," replied Mousqueton. " Hadst
thou been ten years engaged in war, as Grimaud and I have been,
my dear Blaisois, you would know the difference that there is
between the goods of others and the goods of your enemies.
Now an 'Englishman is an enemy ; as this port wine belongs to the
English, therefore it belongs to us."
" And our masters ?" asked Blaisois, stupefied by this harangue,
delivered with an air of profound sagacity, " will they be of your
opinion ?"
Mousqueton smiled disdainfully.
" I suppose you think it necessary that I should disturb the
repose of these illustrious lords to say, ' Gentlemen, your servant,
Mousqueton, is thirsty.' What does Monsieur de Bracieux care,
think you, whether I am thirsty or not ?"
" 'Tis a very expensive wine," said Blaisois, shaking his head.
" Were it gold, Monsieur Blaisois, our masters would not deny
themselves this wine. Know that Monsieur de Bracieux is rich
enough to drink a tun of port wine, even if obliged to pay a pistole
for every drop." His manner became more and more lofty every
instant: then he arose, and after finishing off the beer at one
draught, he advanced majestically to the door of the compartment
where the wine was. "Ah! locked !" he exclaimed; "these devils
of English, how suspicious they are !"
"Shut!" cried Blaisois; "ah, the deuce it is; unlucky, fori
feel the sickness coming on more and more."
"Shut!" repeated Mousqueton.
" But," Blaisois ventured to say, " I have heard you relate, Mon-
sieur Mousqueton, that once on a time, at Chantilly, you fed
your master and yourself with partridges which were snared,
carps caught by a line, and wine drawn with a corkscrew."
" Perfectly true; but there was an air-hole in the cellar, and
the wine was in bottles. I cannot throw the loop through this
partition, nor move with a pack-thread a cask of wine which may,
perhaps, weigh two hogsheads."
"No, but you can take out two or three boards of the parti-
tion," answered Blaisois, " and make a hole in the cask with a
gimlet."
Mousqueton opened his great round eyes to the utmost, as-
PORT WINE.
417
tonished to find in Blaisois qualities for which he did net giVe him
credit. ^
" 'Tis true," he said, " but where can I get a chisel to take the
planks out—a gimlet to pierce the cask ?"
" The trousers !" said Grimaud, still balancing his accounts.
" Ah, yes !" said Mousqueton.
Grimaud, in fact, was not only the accountant, but the armourer
of the party; and as he was a man full of forethought, these
trousers, carefully rolled up in his valise, contained every sort of
tool for immediate use.
Mousqueton, therefore, was soon provided with tools, and he
began his task: In a few minutes he had got out three pieces of
board. He tried to pass his body through the aperture; but, not
being like the frog in the fable, who thought he was larger than he
really was, he found he must take out three or four more pieces of
wood before he could get through.
He sighed, and began to work again.
Grimaud had now finished his accounts. He arose, and stood
near ]\I ousqueton.
"I " he said.
" What ?" said Mousqueton.
" I can pass "
" True—you—" answered Mousqueton, casting a glance at the
long thin form of his friend; " you can pass, and easily—go in
xhen."
" Rinse the glasses," said Grimaud.
" Now," said Mousqueton, addressing Blaisois, "now you will
see how we old soldiers drink when we are thirsty."
" My cloak," said Grimaud, from the bottom of the cellar.
" What do you want ?" asked Blaisois.
" My cloak—stop up the aperture with it."
" Why ?" asked Blaisois.
" Simpleton !" exclaimed Mousqueton; " suppose any one came
into the room."
"Ah, true!" cried Blaisois, with evident admiration; "but it
will be dark in the cellar."
" Grimaud always sees, dark or light—night as well as day,"
answered Mousqueton.
" Silence !" cried Grimaud, " some one is coming."
In fact, the door of their cabin was opened. Two men,
wrapped in their cloaks, appeared.
f Oh, ho !" said they, " not in bed at a quarter past' eleven,
27
TWENTY YEARS AFTER
That's against all rules. In a quarter ©f an hour let every one be
in bed, and snoring."
These two men then went towards the compartment in which
Grimaud was secreted ; opened the door, entered, and shut it after
them.
" Ah !" cried Blaisois; " he's lost!"
" Grimaud's a cunning fox," murmured Mousqueton.
They waited for ten minutes, during which time no noise was
heard which might indicate that Grimaud was discovered; and at
the expiration of that anxious interval the two men returned, closed
the door after them, and repeating their orders that the servants
should go to bed, and extinguish their lights, disappeared. .
At that very moment Grimaud drew back the cloak which hid
the aperture, and came in with his face livid, his eyes staring wide
open with terror, so that the pupil was contracted almost to
nothing, with a large circle of white around it. He held in his
hand a tankard full of some substance or another ; and approaching
the gleam of light shed by the lamp he uttered this single mono-
syllable—" Oh !" with such an expression of extreme terror that
Mousqueton started, alarmed, and Blaisois was near fainting from
fright.
Both, however, cast an inquisitive glance into the tankard—it
was full of powder.
Convinced that the ship was full of powder instead of having a
cargo of wine, Grimaud hastened to awake D'Artagnan, who had
no sooner beheld him than he perceived that something extra-
ordinary had taken place. Imposing silence, Grimaud put out the
little night lamp, then knelt down, and poured into the lieutenant's
ear a recital melodramatic enough not to require play of feature to
give it force.
This was the pith of his story.
The first barrel that Grimaud had found on passing into the
cellar, he struck—it was empty. He passed on to another—it
was also empty; but the third which he tried was, from the dull
sound that it gave out, evidently full. At this point, Grimaud
stopped, and was preparing to make a hole with his gimlet, when
he found a spigot: he therefore placed his tankard under it, and
turned the spout; something, whatever it was that the cask
contained, fell into the tankard.
Whilst he was thinking that he should first taste the liquor
which the tankard contained, before taking it to his companions,
the door of the cellar Opened, and a man with a lanthorn in his
hands, and enveloped in a cloak, came and stood just before the
PORT WINE.
419
barrel, behind which Grimaud, on hearing him come in, instantly
crept. This was Groslow. He was accompanied by another man
who carried in his hand something long and flexible, rolled up,
resembling a washing line.
" Have you the wick ?" asked the one who carried the lanthorn.
" Here it is," answered the other.
At the voice of this last speaker, Grimaud started, and felt a
shudder creeping through his very bones. He rose gently, so that
his head was just above the round of the barrel; and, under the
large hat, he recognised the pale face of Mordaunt.
" How long will this match burn ?" asked this person.
" Nearly five minutes," replied the captain.
'" Then tell the men to be in readiness—don't tell them why
now; when the clock strikes a quarter after midnight collect your
men. Get down into the long-boat."
" That is, when I have lighted the match ?"
" I shall undertake that, I wish to be sure of my revenge—are
the oars in the canoe ?"
" Everything is ready,"
" 'Tis well."
> Mordaunt knelt down and fastened one end of the train to the
spigot, in order that he might have nothing to do but to set it on
fire at the opposite end with the match.
He then arose.
" You heard me—at a quarter past midnight—in fact, in twenty
minutes."
"I understand it all perfectly, sir," replied Groslow; "but.
allow me to say, there is great danger in what you undertake—
would it not be better to entrust one of the men to set fire to the
train ?"
" My dear Groslow," answered Mordaunt, " you know the
French proverb, 'Nothing that one does not do one's self is ever
well done.' I shall abide by that rule."
Grimaud had heard all this—had seen the two mortal enemies
of the Musketeers—had seen Mordaunt lay the train : then he felt,
and felt again, the contents of the tankard that he held in his
hand; and, instead of the liquid expected by Blaisois and Mous-
queton, he found beneath his fingers the grains of some coarse
powder.
Mordaunt went away with the captain. At the door he stopped
to listen.
" Do you hear how they sleep ?" he said.
In fact, Porthos could be heard snoring through the partition.
. . 27—2
420
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" 'Tis God who gives them into our hands," answered Groslow.
"This time the devil himself shall not save them," rejoined
Mordaunt.
And they went out together.
CHAPTER LXX.
end of the port-wine mystery.
D'Artagnan, as one may suppose, listened to all these details
with a growing interest. He awoke Aramis, Athos, and Porthos;
and then, stretching out his arms, and closing them again, the
Gascon collected in one small circle the three heads of his friends,
so near as almost to touch each othen
He then told them under whose command the vessel was in
which they were sailing that night; that they had Groslow for
their captain, and Mordaunt acting under him as his lieutenant.
Something more deathlike than a shudder, at this moment, shook
the brave Musketeers. The name of Mordaunt seemed to exercise
over them a mysterious and fatal influence to bring terror even at
the very sound.
" What is to be done ?" asked Athos.
" You have some plan ?"
D'Artagnan replied by going towards a very small, low window,
just large enough to let a man through. He turned it gently on its
hinges.
'"There," he said, "is our road."
" The deuce—'tis very cold, my dear friend," said Aramis.
"Stay here, if you like, but I warn you, 'twill be rather too
warm presently."
" But we cannot swim to the shore."
" The long boat is yonder, lashed to the felucca; we can take
possession of it, and cut the cable. Come, my friends."
" A moment's delay," said Athos ; "our servants ?"
" Here we are," they cried.
Meantime the three friends were standing motionless before
the awful sight which D'Artagnan, in raising the shutters, had dis-
closed to them through the narrow opening of the window.
Those who have once beheld such a spectacle know that there
is nothing more solemn, more striking than the raging sea, rolling,
with its deafening roar, its dark billows, beneath the pale light of a
wintry moon. ,
End of the poet-wine myster\\
421
" Gracious heaven! we are hesitating," cried D'Artagnan; "if
\ve hesitate, what will the servants do ?"
" I do not hesitate, you know," said Grimaud.
" Sir," interposed Blaisois, " I warn you that I cannot swim ex-
cept in rivers." "And I not at all," said Mousqueton.
But D'Artagnan had now slipped through the window.
"You have then decided, my friend?" said Athos.
" Yes,'rthe Gascon answered; "Athos! you, who are a perfect
being, bid the spirit to triumph over the body."
" Do you, Aramis, order the servants—Porthos kill every one
who stands in your way."
And, after pressing the hand of Athos, D'Artagnan chose a '
moment when the ship rolled backwards, so that he had only to
plunge into the water up to his waist.
Athos followed him before the felucca rose again on the waves :
the cable which tied the boat to the vessel was then seen plainly
rising out of the sea.
D'Artagnan swam to it, and held it, suspending himself by this
rope, his head alone out'of the water.
In one second Athos joined him.
They then saw, as the felucca turned, two other heads peeping—
those of Aramis and Grimaud.
" I am uneasy about Blaisois," said Athos; " he can, he says,
only swim in rivers."
"When people can swim at all they can swim everywhere. To
the bark ! to the bark !"
"But Porthos, I do not see him."
"Porthos is coming—he swims like Leviathan."
Porthos, in fact, did not appear. Mousqueton and Blaisois had
been appalled by the sight of the black gulf below them, and had
shrunk back.
" Come along ! I shall strangle you both if you don't get out,"
said Porthos, at last seizing Mousqueton by the throat.
" Forward! Blaisois."
A groan, stifled by the grasp of Porthos, was all the reply of
poor Blaisois, for the giant, taking him neck and heels, plunged
him into the water head foremost, pushing him out by the window
. as if he had been a plank.
" No\^, Mouston," he said, " I hope you don't mean to desert
your master ?"
" Ah, sir," replied Mousqueton, his eyes filling with tears, " why
did you re-enter the army ? We were so happy in the Chateau do
Pierrefonds!"
422
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
And, without any other complaint, passive and obedient, either
from true devotion to his master, or from the example set by
Blaisois, Mousqueton went into the sea head foremost. A sublime
action, at all events, for Mousqueton looked upon himself as dead.
But Porthos was not a man to abandon an old servant; and when
Mousqueton rose above the water, blinded, he found that he was
supported by the large hand of Porthos, and that he could, with-
out having occasion even to move, advance towards the cable with
the dignity of a sea-god.
In a few minutes, Porthos had rejoined his companions, who
were already in the canoe ; but when, after they had all got in, it
came to his turn, there was great danger that in putting his huge
leg over the edge of the boat he would have upset the little vessel.
Athos was the last to enter.
" Are you all here ?" he asked.
" Ah ! have you your sword, Athos ?" cried D'Artagnan.
" Yes."
" Cut the cable, then."
Athos drew a sharp poignard from his belt, and cut the cord
The felucca went on; the bark continued stationary, only moved
by the waves.
"Come, Athos!" said D'Artagnan, giving his hand to the count;
" you are going to see something curious," added the Gascon.
CHAPTER LXXI.
fatality.
Scarcely had D'Artagnan uttered these words than a ringing and
sudden noise was heard resounding through the felucca, which now
became dim in the obscurity of the night.
"That, you may be sure," said the Gascon, "means some-
thing."
They then, at. the same instant, perceived a large lanthorn
carried on a pole appear on the deck, defining the forms of
shadows behind it.
Suddenly a terrible cry, a cry of despair, was wafted through
the space, and, as if the shrieks of "anguish had driven away the
clouds, the veil which hid the moon was cleared away, and the
gray sails and dark shrouds of the felucca were seen beneath the
silvery night of the skies.
PatalitV.
423
Shadows ran, as if bewildered, to and fro, on the vessel, and
mournful cries accompanied these delirious walkers. In the
midst of these screams they saw, standing on the top of the poop,
Mordaunt, with a torch in his hand.
The figures, apparently excited with terror, were Groslow, who,
at the hour fixed by Mordaunt, had collected his men and the
sailors. Groslow, after having listened at the door of the cabin to
hear if the Musketeers were still asleep, had gone down into the
cellar, convinced by their silence that 'they were all in a deep
slumber. Then Mordaunt had opened the door, and run to the
train—impetuous as a man who is excited by revenge and full of
confidence—as are those whom God blinds—he had set fire to the
sulphur !
All this while, Groslow and his men were assembled on deck.
"Haul up the cable, and draw the boat to us," said Groslow.
One of the sailors got down the side of the ship, seized the
cable, and drew it—it came without any resistance.
" The cable is cut!" he cried, " no canoe!"
" How ! no canoe !" exclaimed Groslow; "'tis impossible."
" 'Tis true, however," answered the sailors; " there's nothing in
the wake of the ship, besides, here's the end of the cable."
" What's the matter ?" cried Mordaunt, who, coming up out of
the hatchway, rushed to the stern, his torch in his hand.
" Only that our enemies have escaped—they have cut the cord,
and gone off with the canoe."
Mordaunt bounded with one step to the cabin and kicked open
the door.
" Empty !" he exclaimed; " the demons !"
" We must pursue them," said Groslow; " they can't be gone
far, and we shall sink them, passing over them."
"Yes, but the fire," ejaculated Mordaunt; "I have lighted it."
" A thousand devils !" cried Groslow, rushing to the hatchway;
"perhaps there is still time to save us."
Mordaunt answered only by a terrible laugh, threw his torch
into the sea, and then plunged himself into it. The instant that
Groslow put his foot upon the steps of the hatchway the ship
opene'd like the crater of a volcano,—a burst of flame arose
towards the skies with an explosion like that of a thousand cannon';
the air burned, ignited by embers in flames—then the frightful
lightning disappeared, the embers sank down, one after another,
into the abyss, where they were extinguished; and, except a slight
vibration in the air, after a few minutes had elapsed, one would
have thought that nothing had happened.
424
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Only—the felucca had disappeared from the surface of the sea—
and Groslow and his three sailors were consumed.
The four friends saw all this—not a single detail of this fearful
scene escaped them: at one moment, bathed as they were in- a
flood of brilliant light, which illumined the sea for the space of a
league, they might each be seen—each in his own peculiar attitude
and manner, expressing the awe, which, even in their hearts of
bronze, they could not help feeling. Soon the torrent of flame
fell all around them—then, at last, the volcano was extinguished
—all was dark—the floating bark and the heaving ocean.
They were all silent and dejected.
" By heaven!" at last said Athos, the first to speak, " by this
time, I think, all must be over."
" Here! my lords! save me ! help!" cried a voice, whose
mournful accents reaching the four friends, seemed to proceed
from some phantom of the ocean.
All looked around—Athos himself started.
" 'Tis he ! 'tis his voice !" he said.
All still remained silent—the eyes of all were still turned in the
direction where the vessel had disappeared — endeavouring in
vain to penetrate the darkness. After a minute or two they were
able to distinguish a man, who approached them, swimming
vigorously.
Athos extended his arm towards him—"Yes, yes, I know him
well," he said.
" He—again !" cried Porthos, who was breathing like a black-
smith's bellows, " why, he's made of iron."
" Oh my God !" muttered Athos.
Aramis and D'Artagnan whispered to each other.
Mordaunt made several strokes more, and raising his arm in
sign of distress above the waves—" Pity, pity on me ! gentle-
men—in Heaven's name—I feel my strength failing me; I am
dying."
The voice that implored aid was so piteous, that it awakened
pity in the heart of Athos.
" Miserable wretch !" he exclaimed.
" Indeed !" said D'Artagnan, " people have only to complain
to you. I believe he's swimming towards us. Does he think we
are going to take him in? Row, Porthos, row."—And setting the
example, he ploughed his oar into the sea—two strokes took the
bark on twenty fathoms further.
" Ah ! ah !" said Porthos to Mordaunt, " I think we have you
here, my hero !"
FATALITY.
425
" Oh'! Porthos !'* murmured the Comte de la Fere.
" Oh, pray ! for mercy's • sake don't fly from me. For pity's
sake !" cried the young man, whose agonised breathing at times,
when his head was under the wave, made the icy waters bubble.
D'Artagnan, however, who had consulted with Aramis, spoke to
the poor wretch. " Go away," he said, " your repentance is too
recent to inspire confidence. See ! the vessel in which you wished
to fry us is still smoking; and the situation in which you are is a
bed of roses compared to that in which you wished to place us, and
in which you have placed Monsieur Groslow and his companions."
" Sir !" replied Mordaunt, in a tone of deep despair, " my
penitence is sincere. Gentlemen, I am young, scarcely twenty-
three years old. I was drawn on by a very natural resentment to
avenge my mother. You would have done what I did."
Mordaunt wanted now only two or three fathoms to reach the
boat—for the approach of death seemed to give him supernatural
strength.
" Alas !" he said, " I am then to die ! you are going to kill the
son, as you killed the mother ! Surely, if I am culpable, and if I
ask for pardon, I ought to be forgiven."
Then—as if his strength failed him—he seemed unable to
sustain himself above the water, and a wave passed over his head,
which drowned his voice.
" Oh! that agonises me!" cried Athos. Mordaunt reappeared.
" For my part," said D'Artagnan, " I say, this must come to an
end :—a murderer as you were of your uncle ; executioner, as you
were of King Charles ! Incendiary ! I recommend you to sink
forthwith to the bottom of the sea; and if you come another
fathom nearer, I'll break your head with my oar."
" D'Artagnan ! D'Artagnan !" cried Athos, " my son ! I entreat
you : the wretch is dying; and it is horrible to let a man die
without extending a hand to save him. I cannot resist doing so—
he must live."
" Zounds !" replied D'Artagnan, " why don't you give yourself
up directly, feet and hands bound, to that wretch ? Ah ! Comte
de la Fere, you wish to perish by his hands ? I, your son, as you
call me; I will not !"
'Twas the first time that D'Artagnan had ever refused a request
of Athos.
Aramis calmly drew his sword, which he had carried between
his teeth as he swam.
"If he lays his hand on the boat's edge, I will cut it off—regi-
cide as he is."
426
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Arid I," said Porthos. "Wait."
" What are you going to do ?" asked Aramis.
"To throw myself in the water and strangle him."
" Oh, gentlemen !" cried Athos ; " be men ! be Christians ! See !
death is depicted on his face ! Ah! do not bring on me the
horrors of remorse ! Grant me this poor wretch's life. I will bless
you. I "
" I am dying !" cried Mordaunt, "come to me ! come to me !"
D'Artagnan began to be touched. The boat at this moment
turned round, and the dying man was by that turn brought nearer
to Athos.
" Monsieur the Comte de la Fere !" he cried; " I supplicate
you !—pity me ! I call on you ! where are you ? I see you no
longer—I am dying—help me !—help me !"
" Here I am, sir !" said Athos, leaning, and stretching out his
arm to Mordaunt with that air of dignity and nobleness of ,soul
habitual to him; "here I am; take my hand, and jump.into our
boat."
Mordaunt made a last effort—rose, seized the hand thus ex-
tended to him, and grasped it with the vehemence of despair.
" That's right," said Athos, "put your other hand here."
And he offered him his shoulders as another stay and support,
so that his head almost touched that of Mordaunt; and these two
mortal enemies were in as close an embrace as if they had been
brothers.
" Now, sir," said the count, "you are safe—calm yourself!"
" Ah ! my mother !" cried Mordaunt, with an eye of fire and a
look of hatred impossible to describe, " I can only offer thee one
victim, but it shall, at any rate, be the one whom thou wouldst
have chosen !"
And whilst D'Artagnan uttered a cry, whilst Porthos raised the
oar, and Aramis sought a place to strike, a frightful shake given
to the boat precipitated Athos into the sea; whilst Mordaunt, with
a shout of triumph, grasped the neck of his victim, and, in order
to paralyse his movements, intertwined his legs with his—as ST
serpent might have done around some object. In an instant,
without uttering an exclamation, without a cry for help, Athos
tried to sustain himself on the surface of the waters; but the
weight dragged him down: he disappeared by degrees; soon
nothing was to be seen except his long floating hair; then every-
thing disappeared, and the bubbling of the water, which, in it's
turn, was effaced, alone indicated the spot where these two men
had sunk.
FATALITY.
427
Mute with horror, the three friends had remained open-mouthed,
their eyes dilated, their arms extended like statues, and motion-
less as they were, the beating of their hearts was audible. Porthos
was the first who came to himself—he tore his hair.
" Oh !" he cried, " Athos ! Athos ! thou man of noble heart!
Woe is me ! I have let thee perish !"
At this instant, in the midst of a vast circle, illumined by the
light of the moon, the same whirlpool which had been made by
the sinking men was again obvious; and first were seen, rising
above the waves, locks of hair—then a face, pale—with open eyes,
yet, nevertheless, those of death; then a body which, after having
raised itself even to the waist above the sea, turned gently on its
back, according to the caprice of the waves, and floated.
In the bosom of this corpse was plunged a poniard, the gold
hilt of which shone in the moonbeams.
" Mordaunt! Mordaunt I" cried the three friends; " 'tis
Mordaunt!"
" But Athos !" exclaimed D'Artagnan.
Suddenly the boat leaned on one side, beneath a new and un-
expected weight, and Grimaud uttered a shout of joy; everyone
turned round, and beheld Athos, livid, his eyes dim, and his hands
trembling, supporting himself on the edge of the boat. Eight
vigorous arms bore him up immediately, and laid him in the
bark, where, directly, Athos was warmed, reanimated, reviving
with the caresses and cares of his friends, who were intqxicated
with joy.
" You are not hurt ?" asked D'Artagnan..
" No," replied Athos, " and he "
" Oh, he ! Now we may say, thank God ! he is really dead.
Look 1"—and D'Artagnan, obliging Athos to look in the direc-
tion that he pointed, showed him the body of Mordaunt floating
on its back, and which, sometimes submerged, sometimes rising,
seemed still to pursue the four friends with a look full of insult
and mortal hatred.
At last he sank. Athos had followed him with a glance in which
the deepest melancholy and pity were expressed.
" Bravo, Athos !" cried Aramis, with an emotion very rare in him.
" A capital blow you gave !" cried Porthos.
" I have a son," said Athos ; " I wished to live."
"In short," said D'Artagnan, "this has been the will of Qod."
" It is not I who killed him," added Athos, in a soft, low tone :
it is destiny."
4^8
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER LXXII.
how mousq.ueton, after being very nearly roasted, had
a narrow escape of being eaten.
A deep silence reigned for a long time in the canoe after the fear-
.ful scene just described.
The moon, which had shone for a short time, disappeared
behind the clouds : every object was again plunged in that obscu-
rity so awful in deserts, and still more so in that liquid desert, the
ocean, and nothing was heard, save the whistling of the west wind
driving along the tops of the crested billows.
Porthos was the first to speak.
" I have seen," he said, " many things, but nothing that ever
agitated me so much as what I have just witnessed. Nevertheless,
even in my present state of perturbation, I protest I feel happy.
I have a hundred pounds' weight less upon my chest. I breathe
more freely." • In fact, Porthos breathed so loud as to do credit to
the powerful play of his lungs.
" For my part," observed Aramis, "I cannot say the same as you
do, Porthos. I am still terrified to such a degree that I scarcely
believe my eyes. I look around the canoe, expecting, every
moment, to see that poor wretch holding in his hands tlqe poniard
which was plunged into his heart."
"Oh, I am quite easy," replied Porthos. "The sword was
pointed at the sixth rib, and buried up to the hilt in his body. I
do not reproach you, Athos, for what you have done; quite the
contrary; when one aims a blow, that is the way to strike. So
now, I breathe again, I am happy !"
" Don't be in haste to celebrate a victory, Porthos," interposed
D'Artagnan; " never have we incurred a greater danger than we
are now encountering. A man may subdue a man—he can't con-
quer an element. We are now on the sea, at night, without any
pilot, in a frail bark; should a blast of wind upset the canoe,
we are lost.."
Mousqueton heaved a deep sigh.
" You are ungrateful, D'Artagnan," said Athos ; " yes, ungrate-
ful to Providence—to whom we owe our safety in a miraculous
manner. Let us sail before the wind, and, unless it changes, we
•shall be drifted either to Calais or Boulogne. Should our bark be
upset, we are five of us good swimmers, and able enough to turn
it over .again; or, if not, to hold on by it. Now we are on the
A NARROW ESC APR OF BEING EATEN 4*9
very road which all the vessels between Dover and Calais take, 'tis
impossible but that we should meet with a fisherman who will pick
us up."
" But should we not find any fisherman, and should the wind
shift to the north?"
"Then," said Athos, "it would be quite another thing; and
we should never see land until we were on the other side of the
Atlantic."
" Which implies that we may die of hunger," said Aramis.
"'Tis more than probable," answered the Comte de la Fere.
Mousqueton sighed again, more deeply than before.
" What is the matter ? what ails you ?" asked Porthos.
" I am cold, sir," said lyiousqueton.
" Impossible! your body is covered with a coating of fat, which
preserves it from the cold air."
"Ah ! sir, 'tis that very coating of fat which alarms me."
" How is that, Mousqueton ?"
" Alas! your honour! in the library of the Chateau of Bracieux
there's a number of books of travels."
" What then ?"
" Amongst them the voyages of Jean Mocquet in the time of
Henry IV."
" Well ?"
" In these books, your honour, 'tis told how hungry voyagers,
drifted out to sea, have a bad habit of eating each other, and
beginning by "
" By the fattest among them !" cried D'Artagnan, unable, in
spite of the gravity of the occasion, to help laughing.
"Yes, sir," answered Mousqueton; "but permit me to say, I
see nothing laughable in it. However," he added, turning to
Porthos, "I should not regret dying, sir, were I sure that by doing
so I might still be useful to you."
" Mouston," replied Porthos, much affected, " should we ever
see my castle of Pierrefonds again, you shall have as your own,
and for your descendants, the vineyard which surrounds the
farm."
"And you shall call it,—Mouston," added Aramis, "the vine-
yard of self-sacrifice, to transmit to latest ages the recollection of
your devotion to your master."
One may readily conceive that during these jokes, which were
intended chiefly to divert Athos from the scene which had just
taken place, the servants, with the exception of Grimaud, were
not silent. Suddenly Mousqueton utttered a cry of delight, in
43°
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
taking from beneath one of the benches a bottle of wine; and,
on looking more closely still in the same place, he discovered
dozen of similar bottles, some bread, and a piece of salted beef.
" Oh, sir!" he cried, passing the bottle to Porthos, " we are
saved—the bark is supplied with provisions."
This intelligence restored every one, save Athos, to gaiety,
"Zounds!" exclaimed Porthos, "'tis astonishing how empty
violent agitation makes the stomach."
And he drank off one bottle at a draught, and ate a good third
of the bread and salted meat.
"Now," said Athos, "sleep, or try to sleep, my friends, I will
watch."
In a few moments, notwithstanding their wet clothes, the icy
blast that blew, and the previous scene, these hardy adventurers,
with their iron frames, fitted for every hardship, threw themselves
down, intending to profit by the advice of Athos, who sat at the
helm, pensive and wakeful, guiding the little barque in the way it
was to go, his eyes fixed on the heavens, as if he sought to discern,
not only the road to France, but the benign aspect of protecting
Providence. After some hours of repose, the sleepers were aroused
by Athos.
Dawn had shed its light upon the blue ocean, and the distance
of a musket's shot from them was seen a dark mass, above which
was displayed a triangular sail; then masters and servants joined in
a fervent cry to the crew of that vessel, to hear them, and to save.
" A barque !" all cried together.
It was, in fact, a small craft from Dunkirk, which was sailing
towards Boulogne.
A quarter of an hour afterwards, the boat of this craft took
them on board the little vessel. Grimaud offered twenty guineas
to the captain from his master, and, at nine o'clock in the morn-
ing, having a fair wind, our Frenchmen set foot on their native
land.
" Egad ! how strong one feels here!" said Porthos, almost
burying his large feet in the sands. " Zounds ! 1 could now defy a
whole nation !"
" Be quiet, Porthos," said D'Artagnan, " we are observed."
" We are admired, i'faith," answered Porthos.
"These people who are looking at us, are only merchants," said
Athos, "and are looking more at the cargo than at us."
"I shall not trust to that," said the lieutenant, "and I shall
make for the Dunes* as soon as possible."
* Sandy hills about Dunkirk, from which it derives its name.
A NARROW ESCAPE OF BEING EATEN-. 431
The party followed him, and soon disappeared with him behind
the hillocks 6f sand unobserved. Here, after a short conference,
they proposed to separate.
" And why separate ?" asked Athos.
" Because," answered the Gascon, " we were sent by Cardinal
Mazarin to fight for Cromwell; instead of fighting for Cromwell,
we have served Charles I., not the same thing at all. In returning
with the Comte de la Fere and Monsieur d'Herblay, our crime
would be confirmed. We have escaped Cromwell, 'Mordaunt,
and the sea, but we should not escape from Mazarin."
" You forget," replied Athos, " that we consider ourselves as
your prisoners, and not free from the engagement we entered into."
" Truly, Athos," interrupted D'Artagnan, " I am vexed that
such a man as you are should talk nonsense which schoolboys
would be ashamed of. Chevalier," he continued, addressing
Aramis, who, leaning proudly on his sword, seemed to agree with
his companion, "Chevalier, Porthos and I run no risk; besides,
should any ill-luck happen to two of us, will it not be much better
that the other two should be spared to assist those who may be
apprehended? Besides, who knows whether, divided, we might
not obtain a pardon—you from the queen, we from Mazarin—
which, were we all four together, would never be granted. Come,
Athos and Aramis, go to £he right; Porthos, come with me to the
left; these gentlemen should file off towards Normandy, we will,
by the nearest road, reach Paris."
He then gave his friends minute directions as to their route.
" Ah ! my dear friend," cried Athos, "how I should admire
the resources 6f your mind, did I not stop to adore those of your
heart."
And he gave him his hand.
" Is the fox a genius, Athos ?" asked the Gascon. " No ! he
knows how to crunch fowls, to dodge the huntsman, and to find
his way home by day or by night, that's all. Well, is all said ?"
"All."
" Then let's count our money, and divide it. Ah ! hurrah!
there's the sun ! Good morrow, my friend, the sun ! 'tis a long
time since I saw you !"
"Come, come, D'Artagnan," said Athos, "do not affect to be
strong-minded: there are tears in your eyes; let us always be open
to each other, and sincere."
" What!" cried the Gascon, " do you think, Athos, we can take
leave, calmly, of two friends, at a time not free from danger to
vou and Aramis "
432
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" No," answered Athos; " embrace me, my son."
" Zounds !" said Porthos, sobbing, " I believe I'm crying; but
how foolish it is !"
They then embraced. At that moment, their fraternal bond of
union was closer than ever, and, when they parted, each to take
the route agreed on, they turned back, to utter to each other
affectionate expressions, which the echoes of the Dunes repeated.
At last they lost sight of each other; Porthos and D'Artagnan
taking the road to Paris, followed by Mousqueton, who, after
having been too cold all night, found himself, at the end of half
an hour, far too warm.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
the return.
During the six months that Athos and Aramis had beern absent
from France, the Parisians, finding themselves, one morning,
without either a queen or a king, were greatly annoyed at being
thus deserted, and the absence of Mazarin, so much desired, did
not compensate for that of the two august fugitives.
The first feeling which pervaded Paris on hearing of the flight
to Saint Germain, was that sort of affright which seizes children
when they awake in the night, and find themselves, alone. A de-
putation was therefore sent to the queen, to entreat her to return
soon to Paris ; but she not only declined to receive the deputies,
but sent an intimation by Chancellor Sequier, implying that if the
parliament did not humble itself before her majesty, by negativing
all the questions that had been the cause of the quarrel, Paris
would be besieged the next day.
This threatening answer, unluckily for the court produced quite
a different effect to that which was intended. It wounded the
pride of the parliament, which, supported by the citizens, replied
by declaring that Cardinal Mazarin was the cause of all the dis-
contents ; denounced him as the enemy both to the king and the
state; and ordered him to retire from the court that very day, and
from France within a week afterwards ; and enjoining, in case of
disobedience on his part, all the subjects of the king to pursue
and take him.
Mazarin being thus put out of the protection of the law, pre-
parations on both sides were commenced : the queen, to attack
Paris—the citizens, to defend it. The latter were occupied in
TllE RETURN".
433
breaking up the pavement, and stretching chains across the street,
when, headed by the Coadjutor, appeared the Prince de Conti
(the brother of the Prince de Condd) and the Due de Longueville,
his brother-in-law. This unexpected band of auxiliaries arrived in
Paris on the tenth of January, and the Prince of Conti was named,
but not until after a stormy discussion, generalissimo of the army
of the king, out of Paris.
As for the Due de Beaufort, he arrived from Venddme, accord-
ing to the annals of the day, bringing with him his high bearing,
and his long and beautiful hair, qualifications which ensured him
the sovereignty of the market-places and their occupants.
It was just at this epoch that the four friends had landed at
Dunkirk, and begun their route towards Paris. On reaching that
capital, Athos and Aramis found it in arms. The sentinel at the
gate refused even to let them pass, and called his sergeant.
The sergeant, with that air of importance which such people
assume when they are clad with military dignity, said :
" Who are you, gentlemen ?"
" Two gentlemen."
" And where do you come from ?"
"From London."
"And what are you going to do in Paris ?"
" We are going with a mission to her Majesty the Queen of
England."
" Where are your orders ?"
" We have none : we left England, ignorant of the state of
politics here, having left Paris before the departure of the king."
" Ah !" said the sergeant, with a cunning smile, " you are Maza-
rinists, who are sent as spies."
" My dear friend," here Athos spoke, " be assured, if we were
Mazarinists, we should have all sorts of passports. In your
situation, distrust those who are well provided with every for-
mality."
" Enter into the guard-room," said the sergeant; " we will lay
your case before the commandant of the post."
The guard-room was filled with citizens and common people,
some playing, some drinking, some talking. In a corner, almost
hidden from view, were three gentlemen, who had preceded Athos
and Aramis, and an officer was examining their passports. The
first impulse of these three gentlemen, and of those who last
entered, was to cast an inquiring glance to each other. Those first
arrived wore long cloaks, in the drapery of which they were care-
> 28
434
Twenty years apteR.
fully enveloped; one of them, shorter than the rest, remained
pertinaciously in the background.
When the sergeant, on entering the room, announced that, in
all probability, he was bringing in two Mazarinists, it appeared to
be the unanimous opinion of the officers on guard that they ought
not to pass.
" Be it so," said Athos; " yet it is probable, on the contrary,
that we shall enter, because we seem to have to do with sensible
people. There seems to be only one thing to do, which is, to
send our names to her Majesty the Queen of England, and, if
she engages to answer for us, I presume we shall be allowed to
enter."
On hearing these words, the shortest of the other three men
seemed more attentive than ever to what was going on, and he
wrapped his cloak around him more carefully than before.
" Merciful goodness !" whispered Aramis to Athos, " did you
see ?"
" What ?" asked Athos.
" The face of the shortest of those three gentlemen T
"No."
" He seemed to me—but'tis impossible."
At this instant the sergeant, who had been for his orders,
returned, and, pointing to the three gentlemen in cloaks, said :
"The passports are right; let these three gentlemen pass."
The three gentlemen bowed, and hastened to take advantage of
this permission.
Aramis looked after them, and, as the least of them passed close
to him, he pressed the hand of Athos.
" What is the matter with you, my friend ?" asked the latter.
" I have—doubtless I am dreaming : tell me, sir," he said to
the sergeant, " do you know those three gentlemen who are just
gone out ?"
"Only by their passports : they are three Frondists, ^vho are
gone to rejoin the Due de Longueville."
"'Tis strange," said Aramis, almost involuntarily; "I fancied
chat I recognized Mazarin himself."
The sergeant burst out into a fit of laughter.
" He !" he cried ; " he venture himself amongst us to be hung !
Not so foolish as all that."
" Ah !" muttered Athos, " I may be mistaken; I haven't the
unerring eye of D'Artagnan."
" Who is speaking of D'Artagnan ?" asked an officer, who
appeared at that moment upon the threshold of the room.
THE RETURN.
435
"What!" cried Aramis and Athos, "what! Planchet!"
" Planchet," added Grimaud, " Planchet, with a gorget,
indeed!"
" Ah, gentlemen!" cried Planchet, " so you are back again in
Paris. Oh, how happy you make us ! no doubt you are come to
join the princes !"
" As thou seest, Planchet," said Aramis, whilst Athos smiled at
the importance now assumed by the old comrade of Mousqueton
in his new rank in the City Militia.
" Ah! so!" said Aramis; " allow me to congratulate you,
Monsieur Planchet."
" Ah, the chevalier !" returned Planchet, bowing.
" Lieutenant ?" asked Aramis.
" Lieutenant, with a promise of becoming a captain."
" 'Tis capital: and pray how did you acquire all these
honours ?"
" In the first place, gentlemen, you know that I was the means
of Monsieur de Rochefort's escape; well, I was very near being
hung by Mazarin, and that made me more popular than ever."
" So, owing to your popularity "
" No : thanks to something better. You know, gentlemen, that
I served in Piedmont's regiment, and had the honour of being a
sergeant ?"
"Yes."
"Well, one day when no one could drill a mob of citizens, who
began to march, some with the right foot, others with the left, I
succeeded, I did, in making them all begin with the same foot,
and I was made a lieutenant on the field."
"So, I presume," said Athos, "that you have a large number
of the nobles with you ?"
"Certainly. There are the Prince de Conti, the Due de
Longueville, the Due de Beaufort, the Due de Bouillon, the
Marechal de la Mothe, the Marquis de Sevigne, and I don't
know who, for my part."
" And the Vicomte Raoul de Bragelonne ?" inquired Athos, in
a tremulous voice; " D'Artagnan told me that he had recom-
mended him to your care, in parting."
" Yes, count; nor have I lost sight of him for an instant since."
"Then," said Athos, in a tone of delight, "he is well? no
accident has happened to him ?"
" None, sir."
" And he lfves ?"
"Still—at the hotel of the Great Charlemagne.-"
•436 twenty years aetEr.
" And passes his time ?"
"Sometimes with the Queen of England,—sometimes with
Madame de Chevreuse. He and the Count de Guiche are never
asunder."
" Thanks,—Planchet—thanks," cried Athos, extending his hand
to the lieutenant
" Oh, sir!" Planchet only touched the tips of the count's
fingers. " Oh, sir !—and now, gentlemen, what do you intend to
do?"
" To re-enter Paris, if you will let us, my good Planchet."
" Let you, sir ?—I am nothing but your servant!" Then, turn-
ing to his men,—
" Allow these gentlemen to pass," he said; "they are friends of
the Due de Beaufort." ^
" Long live the Due de Beaufort!" cried all the sentinels.
" Farewell till we meet again," said Aramis, as they took leave
of Planchet; " if anything happens to us, we shall blame you
for it."
" Sir," answered Planchet, " I am in all things yours to com-
mand."
" That fellow is no fool," said Aramis, as he got on his horse.
" How should he be ?" replied Athos, whilst mounting also,
" seeing that he has been so long used to brush his master's hats ?"
CHAPTER LXXIV.
THE AMBASSADORS.
The two friends rode rapidly down the declivity of the Faubourg,
but on arriving at the bottom were surprised to find that the streets
of Paris had become rivers, and the open places lakes; after the
great rains which fell in the month of January, the Seine had over-
flowed its banks, and the river had inundated half the capital.
The two gentlemen were obliged, therefore, to get off their horses
and take a boat, and in that manner they approached the Louvre.
Night had closed in, and Paris, seen thus, by the light of some
lanthorns, flickering on the pools of water, with boats laden with
patrols with glittering arms, the watchword passing from post to
post, Paris presented such an aspect as to seize strongly on the
senses of Aramis—La man most susceptible of warlike impressions.
They reached the queen's apartments, and were instantly ad-
THE AMBASSADORS.
437
mitted to the presence of Henrietta Maria, who uttered a cry of
joy on hearing of their arrival.
" Let them come in! let them come in !" exclaimed the poor
queen.
" Let them come in !" reiterated the young princess, who had
never left her mother's side, but essayed in vain to make her for-
get, by her filial affection, the absence of her two sons and her other
daughter.
" Come in, gentlemen," repeated the princess, opening the door
herself.
The queen was seated in a fauteuil, and before her were stand-
ing two or three gentlemen, and, among them, the Due de
Chatillon, the brother of the nobleman who was killed eight or
nine years previously in a duel, on account of Madame de Longue-
ville, on the Place Royale. All these gentlemen had been noticed
by Athos and Aramis in the guard-house; and, when the two
friends were announced, they started, and exchanged some words
in a low tone.
" Well, sirs !" cried the queen, on perceiving the two friends ;
" you are come, faithful friends !—but the royal couriers have been
more expeditious than you; and here are Monsieur de Flamareus
and Monsieur de Chatillon, who bring me, from Her Majesty the
Queen Anne, of Austria, the most recent intelligence."
Aramis and Athos were astonished by the calmness, even the
gaiety, of the queen's manner.
" Go on with your recital, sirs," said the queen, turning to the
Due de Chatillon. "You said that his Majesty King Charles, my
august consort, had been condemned to death by a majority of his
subjects !"
"Yes, madame," Chatillon stammered out.
Athos and Aramis seemed more and more astonished.
" And that, being conducted to the scaffold," resumed the queen,
"—oh, my God ! oh, my king !—and that, being led to the scaffold,
he had been saved by an indignant people ?"
"Just so, madame," replied Chatillon, in so low a voice that,
though the two friends were listening eagerly, they could hardly
hear this affirmation.
The queen clapped her hands in enthusiastic gratitude, whilst
her daughter threw her arms round her mother's neck, and kissed
her, her own eyes streaming with tears.
'"Now, madame, nothing remains to me except to proffer my
respectful homage," said Chatillon, who felt confused and ashamed
beneath the stern gaze of Athos,
43§
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" One mbment, yes," answered the queen, " One moment, I
beg, for here are the Chevalier d'Herblay and the Comte de la
Fere—just arrived from London—and they can give you, as eye-
witnesses, such details as you can convey to the queen, my royal
sister. Speak, gentlemen, speak—I am listening—conceal nothing
—gloss over nothing. Since his majesty still lives—since the
honour of the throne is in safety, everything else is a matter of in-
difference to me."
Athos turned pale, and laid his hand on his heart.
" Well!" exclaimed the queen, who remarked this movement and
this paleness. "Speak, sir !—I beg you to do so."
" I beg you to excuse me, madame,—I wish to add nothing to
the recital of these gentlemen until they perceive themselves that
they have, perhaps, been mistaken."
"Mistaken!" cried the queen, almost suffocated by emotion;
" mistaken-! What has happened, then !"
" Sir," interposed Monsieur de Flamareus to Athos, " if we are
mistaken, the error has originated with the queen. I do not
suppose you will have the presumption to set it to rights,—that
would be to accuse her Majesty, Queen Anne, of falsehood."
Athos sighed deeply. ^
" Or rather, sir," said Aramis, with his irritating politeness,
" the error of that person who was with you when we met you in
the guard-room, for if the Comte de la Fere and I are not mistaken,
when we saw you there you had with you a third gentleman."
Chatillon and Flamareus started.
" Explain yourself, count!" cried the queen, whose anguish
became greater every moment. " On your brow I read despair—■
your lips falter, ere you announce some terrible tidings—your
hands tremble. Oh, my God ! my God ! what has happened !"
" Lord!" ejaculated the young princess, falling on her knees,
" have mercy on us !"
A short altercation ensued in a low tone between the Due de
Chatillon and Aramis, during which Athos, his hands on his
heart, his head bent low, approached the queen, and in a voice of
deep sorrow, said :
" Madame ! princes—who by nature are above other men—
receive from heaven courage to support greater misfortunes than
those of lower rank, for their hearts are elevated as their fortunes.
We ought not, therefore, I think, to act towards a queen so illus-
trious as your majesty, as we should do towards a woman of our
lowlier condition. Queen—destined as you are to endure every
sorrow on this earth, hear the result of our mission,"
THE AMBASSADORS.
439
Athos, kneeling down before the queen, trembling and very
cold, drew from his bosom, inclosed in the same case, the order
set in diamonds, which the queen had given to Lord de Winter,
and the wedding-ring' which Charles I. before his death had
placed in the hands of Aramis. Since the moment that he had
first received these two things, Athos had never parted with them,
He opened the case, and offered them to the queen, with silent
and deep anguish.
•The queen stretched out her hand—seized the ring—pressed
it convulsively to her lips—and without being able to breathe a
sigh, to give vent to a sob, she extended her arms, became deadly
pale, and fell senseless in the arms of her attendants and her
daughter.
Athos kissed the hem of the robe of the widowed queen, and
rising, with a dignity that made a deep impression on those
around: '
"I, the Comte de la Fere, a gentleman who has never deceived
any human being, swear before God, and before this unhappy
queen, that all that was possible to save the king of England was
done whilst we were on English ground. Now, chevalier," he
added, turning to Aramis, "let us go. Our duty is fulfilled.,"
"Not yet," said Aramis, "We have still a word to say to these
gentlemen."
And turning to" Chatillon, he said,—" Sir, be so good as not to
go away without hearing something that I cannot say before the
queen."
Chatillon bowed in token of assent, and they all went out,
stopping at the window of a gallery on the ground floor.
" Sir !" said Aramis, " you allowed yourself just now to treat us
in a most extraordinary manner."
" Sir !" cried De Chatiiion.
" What have you done with Monsieur de Bruy ? Has he, per-
chance, gone to change his face, which was too like that of
Monsieur de Mazarin? There are abundance of Italian masks at
the Palais Royal: from harlequin even to pantaloon."
" Chevalier ! chevalier !" said Athos.
" Leave me alone," replied Aramis, impatiently. " I don't like
things that stop half way."
" Finish then, sir," answered De Chatillon, with as much hauteur
as Aramis.
" Gentlemen," resumed Aramis, " any one but the Comte de la
Fere and myself would have had you arrested — for we have
friends in Paris—but we are contented with another course,
440
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Come and talk with us for five minutes—sword in hand—upon
this deserted terrace."
"Willingly," replied De Chatillon.
" Duke," said Flamareus, " you forget that to-morrow you are
to command an expedition of the greatest importance, projected
by the prince, assented to by the queen. Until to-morrow evening
you are not at your own disposal."
" Let it be then, the day after to-morrow," said Aramis.
" To-morrow, rather," said De Chatillon, " and if you will take
the trouble of coming so far as the gates of Charenton."
" Well, then, to-morrow. Pray, are you going to rejoin your
Cardinal ? Swear first, on your honour, not to inform him of our
return."
De Chatillon looked at him. There was so much of irony in
his speech, that the duke had great difficulty in bridling his anger;
but, at a word from Flamareus, he restrained himself, and con-
tented himself with saying :
"You promise me, sir—that's agreed—that I shall find you to-
morrow at Charenton ?"
" Oh, sir, don't be afraid !" replied Aramis; and- the two gentle-
men shortly afterwards left the Louvre.
"For what reason is all this fume and fury ?" asked Athos.
" What have they done to you ?"
" They did—did you not see them ?"
" No."
" They laughed when we swore that we had done our duty in
England. Now, if they believed us, they laughed in order tc
insult us; if they did not believe it, they insulted us still more.
However, I'm glad not to fight them until to-morrow. I hope to
have something better to do to-night than to draw my sword."
" What have you to do ?"
" Egad ! to take Mazarin."
Athos curled his lip with disdain.
"These undertakings do not suit me, as you know, Aramis."
"Why?"
"Because they are taking people unawares."
"Really, Athos, you would make a singular general. You
would fight only by broad daylight. Warn your foe before an
attack; and never attempt anything by night, lest you should be
accused of taking advantage of the darkness."
Athos smiled.
"Say, at once, you disapprove of my proposal."
* I think you ought to do nothing, since you exacted a promise
THE AMBASSADORS
441
from these gentlemen not to let Mazarin know that we were in
France."
" I have entered into no engagement, and consider myself quite
free. Come, come."
" Where ?"
" Either to seek the Due de Beaufort, or the Due de Bouillon,
and to tell them about this."
"Yes, but on one condition—that we begin by the Coadjutor.
Fie is a priest, learned in cases of conscience, and we will tell him
ours."
It was then agreed that they were to go first to Monsieur de
Bouillon, as his house came first; but first of all Athos begged
that he might go to the Hotel du Grand Charlemagne, to see
Raoul.
They re-entered the boat which had brought them to the
Louvre, and went thence to the Halles; and finding there
Grimaud and Blaisois, they proceeded to the Rue Guenegand.
But Raoul was not at the Hotel du. Grand Charlemagne. He
had received a message from the prince, to whom he had hastened
with Olivain the instant he had received it.
CHAPTER LXXY.
the three lieutenants of the generalissimo.
The night was dark; and the town still resounded with all those
noises which disclose a city in a state of siege. Athos and Aramis
did not proceed a hundred steps without being stopped by
sentinels placed before the barricades, who asked them the word;
and on their saying that they were going to Monsieur de Bouillon
on a mission of importance, a guide was given them under pretext
of conducting them, but, in fact, as a watch over their movements.
On arriving at the Hotel de Bouillon, they came across a little
troop of three cavaliers, who seemed to know every possible
watchword; for they walked without either guide or escort, and
on arriving at the barricades had nothing to do but to speak to
those who guarded them, and who let them pass with all the
deference due probably to their birth.
On seeing them, Athos and Aramis stood still,
" Oh !" cried Aramis, " do you see, count ?"
" Yes," said Athos.
442
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
" Who do these three cavaliers appear to you to be ? These
are our men."
" You are not mistaken; I recognize Monsieur de Flamareus,"
"And Monsieur de Chatillon."
" As to the cavalier in the brown cloak "
" It is the Cardinal."
"How the devil do they venture so near the Hotel de
Bouillon ?"
Athos smiled, but did not reply. Five minutes afterwards they
knocked at the prince's door.
This door was guarded by a sentinel, and there was also a guard
placed in the courtyard, ready to obey the orders of the lieutenant
of the Prince de Conti.
Monsieur de Bouillon had the gout, and was in bed; but not-
withstanding his illness, which had prevented his mounting on
horseback for the last month—that is, since Paris had been
besieged—he was ready to receive the Comte de la Fere and the
Chevalier d'Herblay.
He was in bed, but surrounded with all the paraphernalia of war.
Everywhere were swords, pistols, cuirasses, and arbuses, and it
was plain that as soon as his gout was -cured, Monsieur de
Bouillon would give a pretty skein of silk to the enemies of the
parliament to unravel. Meanwhile, to his great regret, as he said,
he was obliged to keep his bed.
" Ah ! gentlemen," he cried, as the two friends entered, " you
are very happy ! you can ride. Come, go fight for the cause of
the people. But I, as you see, am nailed to my bed—ah! this
demon, the gout—this demon, the gout!"
" My lord," said Athos, " we are just arrived from England*
and our first concern is to inquire after your health."
" Thanks, gentlemen ! thanks ! As you see, my health is bad,
but you come from England. And King Charles is well, as I
nave just heard ?"
" He is dead ! my lord," said Aramis.
" Pooh !" said the duke, astonished.
"Dead on the scaffold; condemned by the parliament."
"Impossible !"
" And executed in our presence."
" What then has Monsieur de Flamareus been saying to me ?"
" Monsieur de Flamareus ?"
"Yes, he has just gone out. Deuce take it! this gout!" said
the duke.
" My lord," said Athos, " we admire your devotion to the cause
THE THREE LIEUTENANTS.
443
you have espoused, in remaining at the head of the army whilst so
ill, in so much pain."
" One must," replied Monsieur de Bouillon, " sacrifice one's self
to the public good; bpt, I confess to you, I am now almost
exhausted. My spirit is willing, my head is clear, but this demon,
the gout, galls me ! I confess, if the court would do justice to my
claims, and give to the head of my house the title of prince, and
if my brother De Turenne were reinstated in his command, I
would return to my estates and leave the court and the parliament
to settle things between themselves as they could."
"You are perfectly right, my lord."
" You think so ? At this very moment the. court is making over-
tures to me : hitherto I repulsed them; but since such men as
you assure me that I am wrong in doing so, I've a good mind to
follow your advice, and to accept a proposition made to me by the
Due de Chatillon, just now."
" Accept it, my lord, accept it," said Aramis.
He and Athos then took their departure.
" And what think you of the Due de Bouillon ?" asked Aramis
of his friend.
" I think," answered Athos, " that we have acted wisely in not
breathing a syllable of the reason for our visit; and now let us
proceed forthwith to the Hotel de Vendome." It was ten o'clock
when they reached it, and they found it as closely guarded as that
of the Due de Bouillon. As they entered the courtyard, two cava-
liers were coming out, and Athos and Aramis recognised the Due
de Chatillon and Monsieur de Flamareus, who had evidently been
paying their respects to the Due de Beaufort.
Scarcely had the two friends dismounted when a man approached
them, and after looking at them for an instant by the doubtful
light of the lanthorn, hung in the centre of the courtyard, he
uttered an exclamation of joy, and ran to embrace them.
" Rochefort!" cried the two friends.
"Yes ! We arrived four or five days ago from the Vendomois,
as you know, and we are going to give Mazarin something to do.
You are still with us, I presume ?"
" More than ever. And the duke ?"
"Furious against the Cardinal. You know his success—our
dear duke ? He's really the king of Paris; he can't go out with-
out being almost stifled."
" Ah ! so much the better ! Can we have the honour of seeing
his highness ?"
" J shall be proud to present you ;" and Rochefort walked on;
444
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
every door was opened to him. Monsieur de Beaufort was at
supper, but he rose quickly on hearing the two friends announced.
' " Ah !" he cried, " by Jove ! you're welcome, sirs. You are
coming to sup with me, are you not ? Boisgoli, tell Noirmont that
I have two guests. You know Noirmont, do you not? The sue-
cessor of Father Marteau, who makes the excellent pies you know
about. Boisgoli, let him send one of his best, but not such an one
as he made for La Ramee. Thank God ! we don't want either
ropes, ladders, or pears of anguish."
" My lord," said Athos, " do not let us disturb you. We came
merely to inquire.after your health and to take your orders."
" As to my health, since it has stood five years of prison, with
Monsieur de Chevigny to boot, 'tis excellent ! As to my orders,
since every one gives his own commands in our party, I shall end,
if this goes on, in giving none at all."
" In short, my lord," said Athos, glancing at Aramis, " your high-
ness is dicontented with your party ?"
" Discontented, sir; say that my highness is furious ! To such
a degree, I assure you, though I would not say so to others, that
if the queen, acknowledging the injuries she has done me, would
recall my mother, and give me the reversion of the Admiralty,
which belonged to my father, and was promised to me at his death
—well! I should not be long before I could train dogs to say,
''that there were greater traitors in France than the Cardinal
Mazarin.'"
At this Athos and Aramis could not help exchanging not only a
look but a smile; and, had they not known it for a fact, they could
have been sure that De Chatillon and De Flamareus had been
there before them.
" My lord !" said Athos, " we are satisfied; we came here only
to express our loyalty, and to say that we are at your lordship's
service, and his most faithful servants," and, bowing low, they went
out.
" My dear Athos," cried Aramis; " I think you consented to
accompany me only to give me a lesson—God forgive me !"
" Wait a little, Aramis; it will be time for us to perceive my
motive when we have paid our visit to the Coadjutor."
" Let us, then,, go to the Archiepiscopal palace," said Aramis.
They directed their horses to the city. On arriving at the cradle
from which Paris sprang, they found it inundated with water; and
it was again necessary to take a boat. The palace rose from the
bosom of the water, and, to see the number of boats around it,
pne would have fancied one's self not in Paris, but in Venice. Some
iTHE Til RE £ LIE UTEN ANTS.
445
of these boats were dark and mysterious, others noisy, and lighted
up with torches. The friends glided in between this confusion Of
embarkations, and landed in their turn. All the palace was under
water, but a kind of staircase had been fixed to the lower walls;
and the only difference was that, instead of entering by the doors,
people entered by the windows.
Thus did Athos and Aramis make their appearance in the ante-
chamber, where about a dozen noblemen were collected and waiting.
" Good heavens !" said Aramis to Athos; " does the Coadjutor
intend to indulge himself in the pleasure of making us wait in
his antechamber ?" •
" My dear friend, we must take people as we find them. The
Coadjutor is at this moment one of the seven kings of Paris, and
has a court. Let us send in our names, and if he does not send
us a suitable message, we will leave him to his own affairs, or to
those of France. Let us call one of these lacqueys, with a demi-
pistol in one hand. Exactly so—ah ! if I'm not mistaken, here's
Bazin. Come here, fellow !"
Bazin, who was crossing the antechamber majestically in his
clerical dress, turned round to see who the impertinent gentleman
was who thus addressed him; but seeing the friends, he went up
to them quickly, and expressed great delight on seeing them.
" A truce to compliments," said Aramis ; " we want to see the
Coadjutor, and instantly, as we are in haste."
"Certainly, sir,—it is not such lords as you are who are allowed
to wait in the antechamber, only just now he has a secret confer-
ence with Monsieur de Bruy."
" De Bruy !" cried the friends; " 'tis then useless our seeing
Monsieur the Coadjutor this evening," said Aramis, " so we give
it up."
And they hastened to quit the palace, followed by Bazin, who
was lavish of his bows and compliments.
At ten o'clock the next day the friends met again.
There were still no tidings of D'Artagnan or Porthos, whom
they had expected. Raoul was gone to Saint Cloud, in conse-
quence of a message from the Prince de Conde, and had not
returned; and Aramis had not been able to see Madame de
Longueville, who was installed at the Hotel de Ville, where she
played the part of queen, not having quite courage enough, as
Aramis remarked, to take up her abode at the Palais Royal or
the Tuileries.
" Well, then," said Athos, " now, then, what shall we do this
evening ?"
446
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
"You forget, my friend, that we have work cut out for us m the
direction* of Charenton; I hope to see Monsieur de Chatillon,
whom I've hated a long time, there."
" Why have you hated him ?"
" Because he is the brother of Coligny."
" Ah, true ! he who presumed to be a rival of yours, for which
he was severely punished—that ought to satisfy you."
" Yes, but it does not; I am rancorous, the only point which
shows me to be a churchman. Do you understand ? Let us go,
then, Aramis."
" If we go, there is no time to losb; the drum has beat; I saw
cannon on the road; I saw the citizens in order of battle on the
Place of the Hotel de Ville; certainly the fight will be in the
direction of Charenton, as the Due de Chatillon said."
" Poor creatures!" said Athos, "who are going to be killed, in
order that Monsieur de Bouillon should have his estate at Sedan
restored to him, that the reversion of the Admiralty should be
given to the Due de Beaufort, and that the Coadjutor should be
made a Cardinal."
"Come ! come, dear Athos, you will not be so philosophical
if your Raoul should happen to be in all this confusion."
"Perhaps you speak the truth, Aramis."
"Well, let us go, then, where the fighting is, for that is the
most likely place to meet with D'Artagnan, Porthos, and Raoul.
Stop, there are a fine body of citizens passing; quite attractive, by
Jupiter ! a*nd their captain ! see ! in the true military style."
" What ho !" said Grimaud.
" What ?" asked Athos.
" Planchet, sir."
"Lieutenant yesterday," said Aramis, "a captain to-day, a
colonel, doubtless, to-morrow: in a week the fellow will be a field-
marshal of France."
"Ask him some questions about the fight," said Athos.
Planchet, prouder than ever of his new duties, deigned to ex-
plain to the two gentlemen that he was ordered to take up his
position on the Place Royale, where two hundred men formed
the rear of the army of Paris, and to march towards Charenton,
when necessary.
" The day will be warm," said Planchet, in a warlike tone.
But the friends, not caring to mix * themselves up with the
citizens, set off towards Charenton, and passed the valley of
Fecamp, darkened by the presence of armed troops.
THE BATTLE OF CHARENTOM
447
CHAPTER LXXVI.
fHE BATTLE OF CHARENTON.
As Athos and Aramis proceeded, and passed different companies
on the road, they became aware that they were arriving near the
field of battle.
" Ah ! my friend ? cried Athos, suddenly, " wherei have you
brought us? I fancy I perceive around us faces of different
officers in the royal army: is it not the Due de Chatillon himself
who is coming towards us with his brigadiers ?"
" Good day, sirs," said the duke, advancing; " you are puzzled
by what you see here, but one word will explain everything.
There is now a truce, and a conference. The prince, Monsieur
de Retz, the Due de Beaufort, the Due de Bouillon, are talking
over public affairs. Now, one of two things must happen; either
matters will be arranged, or they will not be arranged, in which
last case I shall be relieved of my command, and we shall still
meet again."
" This conference has not then been preconcerted ?"
"No ; 'tis the result of certain propositions made yesterday by
Cardinal Mazarin to the Parisians."
" Where, then, are the plenipotentiaries ?" asked Athos.
" At the house of Monsieur de Chauleu, who commands your
troops at Charenton. I say your troops, for I presume that you
gentlemen are Frondeurs ?"
" Yes—almost," said Aramis.
" We are for the king, and the princes," added Athos.
" We must understand each other," said the duke; " the king
is with us, and his generals are, the Duke of Orleans and the
Prince de Conti, although, I must add, 'tis almost impossible now
to know what party one is on."
"Yes," answered Athos, "but his right place is in our ranks,
with the Prince de Conti, De Beaufort, D'Elbeuf, and De
Bouillon; but, my lord, supposing that the conferences are broken
off, are you going to try to take Charenton ?"
"Such are my orders."
" My lord, since you command the cavalry-—
"Pardon me, I am commander-in-chief."
" So much the better. There is a youth, of fifteen years of age,
the Vicomte de Bragelonne, attached to the Prince de Conti:—
has fie the honour of being known to you ??' inquired Athos,
44§
twenty years after>
diffident in allowing the sceptical Aramis to perceive how" strong
were his paternal feelings.
" Yes, surely, he came with the prince ; a charming young man;
he is one of your friends, then, Monsieur le Comte ?"
"Yes, sir," answered Athos, slightly agitated; "so mufh so,
that I wish to see him, if possible."
" Quite possible, sir; do me the favour to accompany me, and I
will conduct you to head-quarters."
" Hallo, there !" cried Aramis, turning round, " what a noise
behind us."
" A stout cavalier coming towards us," said Chatillon: " I
recognise the Coadjutor, by his Frondist hat." ^ •
"'And I, the Due de Beaufort, by his plume of white feathers."
" They are coming full gallop; the prince is with, them : ah ! he
is leaving them."
" They are beating the rappel !" cried Chatillon; " we must find
out what's going on."
In fact, they saw the soldiers running to their arms; the trumpets
sounded; the drum beat; the Due de Beaufort drew his sword.
On his side, the prince sounded a rappel, and all ihe officers of
the royalist army, mingled momentarily with the Parisian troops,
ran to him.
"Gentlemen," cried Chatillon, "the truce is broken, that's
evident; they are going to fight; go, then, into Charenton, for I
shall begin in a short time—hark ! there's a signal from the prince !"
The cornet of the troop had, in fact, just raised the standard of
the prince. " Farewell, till the next time !" cried Chatillon, and
he set off, full gallop.
Aramis and Athos turned also, and went to salute the Coad-
jutor, and the Due de Beaufort. As to the Due de Bouillon, he
had such a fit of gout as obliged him to return to Paris in a litter;
but his place was supplied by the Due d'Elbeuf and his four sons,-
ranged around him like a staff. Meantime, between Charenton
and the royal army, was left a long space, which seemed prepared
to serve as a last, resting-place for the dead.
" Gentlemen," cried the Coadjutor, tightening his sash, which
he wore after the fashion of the ancient military prelates, over his
Archiepiscopal simar, "there's the enemy approaching us; we
shall, I hope, save them the half of their journey."
And, without caring whether he were followed or not, he set off:
his regiment, which bore the name of the regiment of Corinth,
from the name of his Archbishopric, darted after him, and be-
gan the fight. Monsieur de Beaufort sent his. cavalry towards
THE BATTLE OF CLIA RE NT OF?.
449
Etampes, and Monsieur de Chauleu, who defended the place, was
ready to resist an assault, or, if the enemy were repulsed, to
attempt a sortie.
The battle soon became general, and the Coadjutor performed
miracles of valour. His proper vocation had always been the
sword, and he was delighted whenever he could draw it from the
scabbard, no matter for fahom, or against whom.
Chauleu, whose fire at one time repulsed the royal regiments,
thought that the moment was come to pursue it; but it was re-
formed, and led again to the charge, by the Due de Chatillon, in
person. This charge was so fierce, so skilfully conducted, that
Chauleu was almost surrounded. He commanded a retreat, which
began, step by step, foot by foot—unhappily, in an instant, he fell,
mortally wounded. De Chatillon saw him fall, and announced it,
in a loud voice, to his men, which raised their spirits, and com-
pletely disheartened their enemies, so that every man thought
only of his personal safety, and tried to regain the trenches, where
the Coadjutor was trying to reform his disorganised regiment.
Suddenly, a squadron of cavalry came to an encounter with the
royal troops who were entering, ptle mele, into the entrenchments
with the fugitives. Athos and Aramis charged at the head of
their squadron; Aramis with his sword and pistol in his hands;
Athos, with his sword in the scabbard, his pistol in his saddle bags;
calm and cool as if on the parade, except that his noble and
beautiful countenance became sad as he saw slaughtered, so many
men who were sacrificed on the one side to the obstinacy of
royalty, on the other to the rancorous party feeling of the princes;
Aramis, on the contrary, struck right and left, and was almost
delirious with excitement. His bright eyes kindled, and his
mouth, so finely formed, assumed a dark smile; every blow he
aimed was sure, and his pistol finished the deed—and annihilated
the wounded wretch who tried to rise again.
On the opposite side, two cavaliers, one covered with a gilt
cuirass, the other wearing simply a. buff doublet, from which fell
the sleeves of a vest of blue velvet, charged in front. The cavalier
in the gilt cuirass fell upon Aramis and hit him a blow that Aramis
parried with his wonted skill.
"Ah ! 'tis you, Monsieur de Chatillon," cried the chevalier,
"welcome to you—I await you."
" I hope I have not made you wait too long, sir," said the duke;
" at all events, here I am."
" Monsieur de Chatillon," cried Aramis, taking from his saddle
29
450
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
bags a second pistol, " I think if your pistols have been discharged,
you are a dead man."
" Thank God, sir, they are not!"
And the duke, pointing his pistol at Aramis, fired. But Aramis
instantly bent his head, and the ball passed without touching him
" Oh! you've missed me," cried Aramis; " but I swear to
Heaven, I will not miss you."
" If I give you time !" cried the duke, spurring on his horse,
and rushing upon him with his drawn sword.
Aramis awaited him with that terrible smile which was peculiar
to him on such occasions; and Athos, who saw the duke advan-
cing towards Aramis with the rapidity of lightning, was just going
to cry out "fire! fire then!" when the shot was fired, De Chatillon
opened his arms and fell back on the cruppers of his horse.
The ball had penetrated into his chest through the crank of his
cuirass.
" I am a dead man," he said, and he fell ffrom his horse to
the ground.
" I told you this ; I am now grieved I have kept my word; can
I be of any use to you !"
Chatillon made a sign with his hand, and Aramis was about to
dismount, when he received a violent shock in the side, 'twas a
thrust from a sword, but his cuirass turned aside the blow.
He turned round and seized his new antagonist by the wrist,
when he started back, exclaiming, "Raoul!"
" Raoul ?" cried Athos.
The young man recognised at the same time the voice of his
father and that of the Chevalier d'Herblay; several chevaliers in
the Parisian forces rushed at that instant on Raoul, but Aramis
protected him with his sword.
" My prisoner !" he cried.
At this crisis of the battle, the Prince, who had seconded De
Chatillon in the second line, appeared in the midst of the fight;
his eagle eye made him known, and his blows proclaimed the
hero.
On seeing him the regiment of Corinth, which the Coadjutor
had not been able to reorganise in spite of his efforts, threw itself
into the midst of the Parisian forces, put them into confusion, *
and re-entered Charenton flying. The Coadjutor, dragged along
with his fugitive forces, passed near the group formed by Athos,
Raoul, and Aramis. Aramis could not in his jealousy avoid
being pleased at the Coadjutor's misfortune, and was about to
make some bon-mot, more witty than correct, when Athos stopped
hira
the battle of chaeenton.
u On, on !" he cried, " this is no moment for compliments ; or
rather back, for the battle seems to be lost by the Frondeurs."
" That's a matter of indifference to me," said Aramis, " I came
here only to meet De Ch&tillon; I have met him, I am contented;
'tis something to have met De Chatillon in a duel!"
The three cavaliers continued their road on a full gallop.
" What were you doing in the battle, my friend ?" inquired
Athos of the youth ; " twas not your right place, I think, as you
were not equipped for an engagement !"
" I had no intention of fighting to-day, sir; I was charged, in-
deed, with a mission for the Cardinal, and had set out for Rueil,
when seeing Monsieur de Chatillon charge, a wish possessed me
to charge at his side. Two cavaliers from the Parisian troops
told me that you were there."
" What! you knew we were there, and yet wished to kill your
friend and the chevalier ?"
" I did not recognise the chevalier in his armour, sir !" said
Raoul, blushing; " though I might have known him by his skill
and coolness in danger."
" Thank you for the compliment, my young friend," replied
Aramis, " we can see from whom you learnt lessons of courtesy;
you were going, then, to Rueil ?"
" Yes ! I have a despatch from the Prince to his Eminence."
"You must still deliver it," said Athos.
"No false generosity, count! the fate of our friends—to say
nothing of our own—is, perhaps, in that very despatch."
" This young man must not, however, fail in his duty," said
Athos.
u In the first place, count, this youth is our prisoner; you seem
to forget that. What I propose to do is fair in war, and the
conquered must not be dainty in the true choice of means."
" Give him the despatch, Raoul! you are the chevalier's
prisoner."
Raoul gave it up reluctantly; Aramis instantly seized and
read it.
"You," he said, "you, who are so trusting, read and reflect
that there is something in this letter important for us to see."
Athos took the letter, frowning, but an idea that he should hear
something in this letter about D'Artagnan conquered his unwilling-
ness to finish it.
" My lord I shall send this evening to your Eminence in order
to reinforce the troop of Monsieur de Comminges, the ten men
whom you demand. They are good soldiers, fit to support the
29—2
4$2
TWENTY YEARS AETEk.
two violent adversaries whose address and resolution your Erni-
nence is fearful of."
" Oh !" cried Athos.
" Well," said Aramis, " why think you about these two enemies,
when it requires, besides Comminges' troop, ten good soldiers to
guard; are they not as like as two drops of water to D'Artagnan
and Porthos ?"
"We'll search Paris all to-day," said Athos, "and if we have no
news this evening, we will return to the road to Picardy; and I
feel no doubt that, thanks to D'Artagnan's ready invention, we
shall then find some clue which will solve our doubts."
It was, then, with a sentiment of uneasiness whether Planchet,
who alone could give them information, was alive or not, that the
friends returned to the.Palais Royal; to their great surprise they
found all the citizens still encamped there, drinking and bantering
each other; although, doubtless, mourned by their families, who
thought they were at Charenton, in the thick of the firing.
Athos and Aramis again questioned Planchet, but he had seen
nothing of D'Artagnan; they wished to take Planchet with them,
but he could not leave his troop; who, at five o'clock returrfed
home, saying that they were returning from the battle, whereas
they had never lost sight of the equestrian statue in bronze of
Louis XIII.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
the road to picardy.
In leaving Paris, Athos and Aramis well knew that tney would be
encountering great danger; but one can imagine how such men
look at a question of personal risk. Paris, however, itself was
not tranquil; food began to be scarce ; and wheresoever any of the
Prince de Conti's generals wanted to succeed him in his command,
some little cmente, which he always put a stop to instantly, took
place.
In one of these risings, the Due de Beaufort pillaged the
house and library of Mazarin, in order to give the populace, as
he said, something to gnaw at. Athos and Aramis left Paris after
this coup d'etat, which took place on the very evening of the day
in which the Parisians had been beaten at Charenton.
They quitted Paris, beholding it abandoned to extreme want
bordering on famine ; agitated by fear, torn by faction. Parisians
THE ROAD TO P1CARDY.
453
and Frondeurs as they were, the two friends expected to find the
same misery, the same fears, the same intrigues in the enemy's
camp; but what was their surprise, after passing St. Denis, to hear
that, at St Germains, people were singing and laughing, and lead-
ing a cheerful life. The two gentlemen travelled by by-ways, in
order not to encounter Mazarinists, who were scattered about the
Isle of France, and also to escape the Frondeurs, who were in
possession of Normandy, and who Avould not have failed to conduct
them to the Due de Longueville, in order that he might know
whether they were friends or enemies. Having escaped these
dangers, they returned by the main road to Boulogne, at Abbe-
ville, and followed it step by step, examining every track.
Nevertheless, they were still in a state of uncertainty. Several
inns were visited by them, several innkeepers questioned, without
a single clue being given to guide their inquiries. When at Mon-
treuil Athos felt, upon the table, that something rough was touch-
ing his delicate fingers. He turned up the cloth, and found these
hieroglyphics carved upon the wood with a knife :—
"Port .... D'Art .... 2nd February."
" This is capital," said Athos to Aramis; " we were to have
slept here, but we cannot, we must push on." They rode forward,
and reached Abbeville. There the great number of inns puzzled
them; they could not go to all; how could they guess in which
he whom they were seeking had stayed.
" Trust me," said Arapiis; " do not expect to find anything in
Abbeville. If we had only been looking' for Porthos, Porthos
would have fixed himself in one of the finest of the hotels, and we
could easily have traced him. Dut D'Artagnan is devoid of such
weaknesses. Porthos would have found it very difficult even to
make him see that he was dying of hunger; he has gone on his
road as inexorable as fate, and we must seek him somewhere else."
They continued their route; it had now become a weary and
almost hopeless task; and had it not been for the threefold motives
of honour, friendship, and gratitude, implanted in their hearts, these
two travellers would have given up, many a time, their rides over
the sand, their interrogatories of the peasantry, and their close
inspection of faces.
They proceeded to Compiegne.
Athos began to despair. His noble nature felt that their igno-
ranee was a sort of reflection upon them. They had not looked
well enough for their lost friends. They had not shown sufficient
pertinacity in their inquiries. They were willing and ready to
retrace their steps, when, in crossing the suburb which leads to
454
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
the gates of the town, upon a white wall which was at the corner
of a street turning round the rampart, Athos cast his eyes upon
a drawing in black chalk, which represented, with the awkward-
ness of a first attempt, two cavaliers riding furiously, and carrying
a roll of paper, on which were written these words,—" The.v are
folio wing^us."
" Oh !" exclaimed Athos; " here it is as clear as day. Pursued
as he wasr D'Artagnan would not have tarried here five minutes
had he been pressed very closely, which gives us hopes that he
may have succeeded in escaping."
Athos shook his head.
" Had he escaped we should either have seen him or have heard
him spoken of."
"You are right, Aramis; let us travel on."
To describe the impatience and uneasiness of these two gentle-
men would be impossible. Anxiety took possession of the tender
and constant heart of Athos; and impatience was the torment of
the impulsive Aramis. They galloped on for two or three hours
with the frenzy of two knights in pursuit. All at once, in a narrow
pass, they perceived that the road was partially barricaded by an
enormous stone. It had evidently been rolled across the path by
some arm of gigantic power.
Aramis stopped.
" Oh !" he said, looking at the stone, " this is the work either of
Ajax, or of Briareus, or of Porthos. Let us get down, count, and
examine this rock."
They both alighted. The stone had been brought with the
evident intention of barricading the road; but some one, having
perceived the obstacle, had partially turned it aside.
With the assistance of Blaisois and Grimaud, the friends sue-
ceeded in turning the stone over. Upon the side next the ground
was written :
" Eight of the Light Dragoons are pursuing us. If we reach
Compiegne, we shall stop at the Peacock. It is kept by a friend
of ours."
" This is something positive," said Athos, " let us go to the
Peacock."
"Yes," answered Aramis, "but if we are to get there, we must
rest our horses, for they are almost broken-winded."
Aramis was right; they stopped at the first tavern, and made
each horse swallow a double quantity of corn steeped in wine;
they gave them three hours' rest, and then set off again. The
men themselves were almost killed with fatigue, but hope supported
them.
THE ROAD TO PICARDY.
455
In six hours they reached Compiegne, and alighted at the
Peacock. The host proved to be a worthy man, as bald as a
Chinaman. They asked him if some time ago he had not re-
ceived in his house two gentlemen who were pursued by Dragoons:
without answering, he went out and brought in the blade of a
rapier.
" Do you know that ?" he asked.
Athos merely glanced at it.
" 'Tis D'Artagnan's sword," he said
" Does it belong to the smaller, or to the larger of the two ?"
asked the host.
"To the smaller."
" I see that you are the friends of these gentlemen."
"Well, what has happened to them?"
" They were pursued by eight of the Light Dragoons, who rode
into the court yard, before they had time to close the gate; but
these men would not have succeeded in taking them prisoners,
had they not been assisted by twenty soldiers of the regiment of
Italians in the king's service, who are in garrison in this town—
so that your friends were overpowered by numbers."
" Arrested, were they ?" asked Athos; " is it known why ?"
"No, sir, they were carried off directly, and had not time to
tell me why; but, as soon as they were gone, I found this broken
blade of a sword—as I was helping in raising up two dead men,
and five or six wounded ones."
"'Tis still a consolation that they were not wounded," said
Aramis.
" Where were they taken ?" asked Athos.
"Towards the town of Louvres," was the reply.
The two friends, having agreed to leave Blaisois and Grimaud
at Compiegne with the horses, resolved to take post horses; and
having snatched a hasty dinner, they continued their journey to
Louvres.
Here they found only one inn, in which was drunk a liquor
which still preserves its reputation in our own time, and which is
still made in that town.
" Let us alight here," said Athos, " D'Artagnan will not have
let slip an opportunity of drinking a glass of this liquor, and, at
the same time, leaving some trace of himself."
They went into the town, and asked for two glasses of liquor,
at the counter—as their friends must have done before them.
The counter was covered generally with a plate of pewter;
upon this plate was written with the point of a large pin,—
" Rueil , , , , D . , . ."
456
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" They went to Rueil," cried Aramis.
"Let us go to Rueil," said Athos. "Had I been as great a
friend of Jonah's as I am of D'Artagnan, I should have followed
him even into the whale itself; and you would have done the
same," observed Athos.
" Certainly—but you make me better than I am, dear count
Had I been alone, I should scarcely have gone to Rueil without
great caution."
They then set off for Rueil. Here the deputies - of the Parlia-
ment had just arrived, in order to enter upon those famous con-
ferences which were to last three weeks, and produced, eventually,'
that shameful peace, at the end of which the prince was arrested.
Rueil was crowded with advocates, presidents, and counsellors,
who came from the Parisians; and, on the side of the court, with
officers and guards; it was, therefore, easy, in the midst of this
confusion, to remain as much unobserved as might be wishod;
besides, the conferences implied a truce, and to arrest two' genfle-
men, even Frondeurs, at this time, would have been an attack on
the rights of the people.
The two friends mingled in the crowd,'and fancied that every
one was occupied with the same thought that tormented them.
But every one was engrossed by articles and reforms. It was
the advice of Athos to go straight to the ministers.
" My friend," said Aramis, " take care; our safety proceeds
from our obscurity. If we were to make ourselves known, we
should be sent to rejoin our friends in some deep ditch, from
which the devil himself cannot take us out. Let hs try not to
find them out by accident, but from our own notions.. Arrested
at Compiegne, they have been carried to Rueil; at Rueil they
have been questioned by the Cardinal, who has either kept them
near him, or sent them to St. Germains. As to the Bastille, they
are not there, though the Bastille is especially for the 'Fron-
deurs.' They are not dead, for the death of D'Artagnan would
make a sensation. Do not let us despond—but wait at Rueil, for
my conviction is that they are at Rueil. But what ails you ? you
are pale." v
"It is this," answered Athos, with a trembling voice, "I re-
member that, at the Castle of Rueil, the Cardinal Richelieu has
some horrible 'oubliettes' constructed."
"Oh ! never fear," said Aramis. "Richelieu was a gentleman,
our equal in birth, our superior in position. He could, like the
king, touch the greatest of us on the head, and in touching them,
make the head shake on the shoulders. But Mazarin is a low-
THE ROAD TO PICARDY.
457
born rogue, who could only take us by the neck, like an archer.
Be calm—for I am sure that D'Artagnan and Porthos are alive
and well."
" Well," resumed Athos, " I recur to my first proposal. I know
no better means than to act with candour. I shall seek not Ma-
zarin, but the queen—and say to her, ( Madame, restore to us our
two servants and our two friends.'"
Aramis shook his head.
" 'Tis a last resource; but let us not employ it till it is impera-
tively necessary; let us rather continue our researches."
They continued their inquiries, and at last met with a Light
Dragoon, who had formed one of the guard which had escorted
D'Artagnan to Rueil, by which they knew that they had entered
that house.
Athos, therefore, perpetually recurred to his proposed interview
with the queen.
"I shall go," he said, "to the queen."
" Well, then," answered Aramis, " Pray tell me a day or two
beforehand, that I may take that opportunity of going to Paris."
" To whom ?"
" Zounds ! how do I know ? perhaps to Madame de Longue-
ville. She is all powerful yonder ; she will help me. But
send me word should you be arrested, for then I will return
directly."
"Why do you not take your chance, and be arrested with
me ?" -
"No, I thank you."
" Should we, by being arrested, be all four together again, we
should not, I am sure, be twenty-four hours in prison without
getting free."
" My friend, since I killed Chatillon, the adored of the ladies
of St. Germains, I have too great a celebrity not to fear a prison
doubly. The queen is likely to follow Mazarin's counsels, and to
have me tried. Do you think that she loves this Italian so much
as they say she does ?"
"She loved an Englishman passionately."
"Well, my friend, she is a woman."
" No, no, you are deceived—she is a queen."
" Dear friend, I shall sacrifice myself, and go and see Anne of
Austria." .
"Adieu, Athos, I am going to raise an army."
"For what purpose?"
"To come back, and besiege Rueil,"
458
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
" Where shall we meet again ?"
"At the foot of the Cardinal's gallows."
The two friends parted — Aramis to return to Paris, Athos
to take some measures preparatory to an interview with the
queen.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
the gratitude of anne of austria.
Athos found much less difficulty than he had expected in ob-
taining an audience of Anne of Austria : it was granted, and was
to take place, after her morning's 'levee,' at'which, in accordance
with the rights he derived from his birth, he was entitled to be
present. A vast crowd filled the apartments of St. Germains;
Anne had never, at the Louvre, had so large a court; but this
crowd represented chiefly the second class of nobility, which the
Prince de Conti, the Due de Beaufort, and the Coadjutor assem-
bled around them,—the first men in France.
The greatest possible gaiety prevailed at the court. The par-
ticular characteristic of this was, that more songs were made than
cannon fired during its continuance. La Court made songs on
the Parisians, and the Parisians on the court; and the wounds,
though not mortal, were painful, as they were made by the arms
of ridicule.
, In the midst of this seeming hilarity, nevertheless, people's
minds were uneasy. Was Mazarin to remain the favourite and
minister of the queen ? was he to be carried back by the wind
which had blown him there ? Every one hoped so, so that the
minister felt that all around him, beneath the homage of the
courtiers, lay a fund of hatred, ill disguised by fear and interest.
He was ill at ease, and at a loss what to do.
Conde, himself, while fighting for him, lost no opportunity of
ridiculing, or of humbling him. The queen, on whom he threw
himself, as his sole support, seemed to him, now, very little to be
relied upon.
When the hour appointed for the audience arrived, Athos was
obliged to stay until the queen, who was waited upon by a new
deputation from Paris, had consulted with her minister as to the
propriety and manner of receiving them. All were fully engrossed
with the affairs of the day, and there could be few opportunities
less favourable to make an appeal upon; but Athos was a man of
THE GRATITUDE OF A AWE OF AUSTRIA.
459
inflexible temper, and insisted on his right of being admitted into
the queen's presence. Accordingly, at the close of the audience,
she sent for him to her room.
The name of the Count de la Ffere was then announced to
Anne. Often must she have heard that name, and felt that it had
made her heart beat; nevertheless, she remained unmoved, and
was contented to look steadfastly at this gentleman, with that set
stare which can alone be permitted to a queen.
" Do you come, then, to offer me your services ?" she asked,
after some moments' silence.
" Yes, madame," replied Athos, shocked at her not recognising
him. Athos had a noble heart, and made, therefore, but a poor
courtier.
Anne frowned. Mazarin, who was sitting at a table, folding up
papers, as if he had only been a secretary of state, looked up.
" Speak," said the queen.
Mazarin turned again to his papers.
" Madame," resumed Athos, " two of my friends, named D'Artag-
nan and Porthos, sent to England by the Cardinal, have suddenly
disappeared ever since they set foot on the shores of France; no
one knows what has become of them."
" Well ?" said the queen.
. " I address myself, therefore, first to the benevolence of your
majesty, that I may know what has become of my friends, re-
serving to myself, if necessary, the right of appealing afterwards to
your justice."
" Sir," replied Anne, with a degree of haughtiness, which, to
certain persons, became impertinence, " this is the reason that
you trouble me in the midst of so many absorbing concerns ! An
affair for the police ! Well, sir, you ought to know that since we
left Paris"there no longer exists a police."
"I think that your majesty will have no need to apply to the
police to know where my friends are, but that if you will deign to
interrogate the Cardinal, he can reply without any further inquiry
than into his own recollections."
" But, God forgive me !" cried Anne, with that disdainful curl
of the lip peculiar to her, "I think you can inquire yourself."
"Yes, madame, here I have a right to do so, for it concerns
Monsieur D'Artagnan—D'Artagnan," he repeated, in such a manner
as to bow down the regal brow beneath the recollections of the
weak and erring woman.
The Cardinal saw that it was now high time to come to the
assistance of Anne.
460
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Sir," he said, " I can tell what is at present unknown to her
majesty. These individuals are under arrest; they disobeyed
orders."
" I beg of your majesty, then," said Atlios, calm, and not reply-
ing to Mazarin, " to take off these arrests from Monsieur d'Artag-
nan and De Valon."
" What you ask is an affair of discipline and police," said the
queen.
" Monsieur d'Artagnan never made such an answer as that when
the service of your majesty was concerned," said Athos, bowing
with great dignity. He was going towards the door, when Mazarin
stopped him.
"You have also been in England, sir ?" he said, making a sign
to the queen, who was evidently going to issue a severe order.
" I was present at the last hours of Charles I. Poor king I
Culpable, at the most, of weakness, how cruelly punished by his
subjects! Thrones are at this time shaken, and it is to little
purpose for devoted hearts to serve the interests of princes. This
is the second time that Monsieur D'Artagnan has been' in England.
He went the first time to save the honour of a great queen; the
second, to avert the death of a great king."
" Sir," said Anne to Mazarin, with an accent from which daily
habits of dissimulation could not entirely chase the real expres-
sion, " see, if we cannot do something for these gentlemen."
" I wish to do, madame, all that your majesty pleases."
" Do what Monsieur de la Fere requests; that is your name, is
it not, sir ?"
"I have another name, madame—I am called Athos."
" Madame," said Mazarin, with a smile, " you may be easy—your
wishes shall be fulfilled."
" You hear, sir ?" said the queen.
"Yes, madame; I expected nothing less' from the justice of
your majesty. May I not, then, go and see my friends ?"
" Yes, sir, you shall see them. But, d pi-ofios, you belong to the
Fronde, do you not ?"
" Madame, I serve the king."
"Yes, in your own way."
" My way, is the way of all gentlemen; and I know only one
way," answered Athos, haughtily.
" Go, sir, then," said the queen; " you have obtained what you
wish, and we know all we wish to know."
Scarcely, however, had the tapestry closed behind Athos than
she said to Mazarin :
THE GRATITUDE OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 461
" Cardinal, desire them to arrest that insolent fellow before he
leaves the Court."
"Your majesty," answered Mazarin, "desires me to do only
what I was going to ask you to let me do. These bravos, who
bring back to our epoch the traditions «of the other reign, are
troublesome; since there are two of them already there, let us
add a third."
Athos was not completely the queen's dupe, but he was not a
man to run away merely on suspicion—above all, when distinctly
told that he should see his friends again. He waited, then, in the
antechamber with impatience, till he should be conducted to them.
He walked to the window and looked into the court. He saw
the deputation from the Parisians enter it: they were coming to
sign the definitive place for the conference, and to make their bow
to the queen. A very imposing escort awaited them without the
gates.
Athos was looking on attentively when some one touched him
softly on the shoulder.
" Ah ! Monsieur de Comminges," he said.
"Yes, count, and charged with a commission for which I beg of
you to accept my excuses."
" What is it ?"
"Be so good as to give me up your sword, count."
Athos smiled and opened the window.
" Aramis !" he cried.
A gentleman turned round. Athos fancied he had seen him
among the crowd. It was Aramis. He bowed with great friend-
ship to the count.
"Aramis !"cried Athos ; "I am arrested."
" Good," replied Aramis calmly.
"Sir," said Athos, turning to Comminges, and giving him
politely his sword by the hilt—" there is my sword—have the kind-
ness to keep it for me until I shall quit my prison. I prize it—it
was given to my ancestors by King Francis I. In his time they
armed gentlemen, they did not disarm them. Now, whither do
you conduct me ?"
"Into my room at first," replied Comminges, "the queen will
ultimately decide on the place of your domicile."
Athos followed Comminges without saying a single word.
TWENTY YEARS APTER.
CHAPTER LXXIX.
the royalty of cardinal mazarin.
The arrests produced no sensation, and were almost unknown,
and scarcely interrupted the course of events. To the deputation
it was formally announced that the queen would receive it.
Accordingly it was admitted to the presence of Anne, who,
silent and lofty as ever, listened to the speeches and complaints
of the deputies; but when they had finished their harangues, not
one of them could say, so calm had been her face, whether she
had heard them or not. Whilst thus she was silent, Mazarin, who
was present, and knew what the deputies asked, answered in these
terms :
" Gentlemen," he said, " I shall join with you in supplicating
the queen to put an end to the miseries of her subjects. I have
done all in my power to ameliorate them, and yet the belief of
the public, you say, is that they proceed from me, an unhappy
foreigner who has been unable to please the French. Alas! I
have never been understood, and no wonder. I succeeded a man
of the most sublime genius that ever upheld the sceptre of France.
The memory of Richelieu annihilates me. In vain—were I an
ambitious man—should I struggle against such a remembrance as
he has left; but that I am not ambitious I am going to prove to
you. I own myself conquered. I shall obey the wishes of the
people. If Paris has injuries to complain of, who has not some
■wrongs to be redressed ? Paris has been sufficiently punished—
enough blood has flowed—enough misery has humbled a town
deprived of its king, and of its justice. Tis not for me, a private
individual, to disunite a queen from her kingdom. Since you
require my resignation, I shall retire."
" Then," said Aramis, in his neighbour's ears, " the conferences
are over. There is nothing to do but to send Monsieur Mazarin
to the most distant frontier, and to take care that he does not
return even by that, nor any other entrance, into .France."
" One instant, sir," said the man in a gown, whom he addressed
il a plague on't ! how fast you go ! one may soon see that you're a
soldier. There's the article of remunerations and indemnifications
to be discussed and set to rights."
" Chancellor," said the queen, turning to this same man, " do
you, our old acquaintance, open the conferences. They can take
place at Rueil. The Cardinal has sajd several things which have
the royalty op cardinal mazarin. 463
agitated me, therefore I do not speak more fully now. As to his
going or staying, I feel too much gratitude to the Cardinal not
to leave him free in all his actions; he shall do what he wishes
to do."
A transient pallor overspread, the speaking countenance of the
prime minister—he looked at the queen with anxiety. Her face
was so passionless, that he was, as every one else was, incapable,
of reading her thoughts.
" But," added the queen, " in awaiting the Cardinal's decisions,
let there be, if you please, a reference to the king only."
The deputies bowed, and left the room.
"What!" exclaimed the queen, when the last of them had
quitted the apartment, "you would yield to these limbs of the
law—those advocates ?"
"To promote your majesty's welfare, madame," replied Mazarin,
fixing his penetrating eye on the queen; " there's no sacrifice that'
I would not make."
Anne dropped her head and fell into one of those reveries so
habitual with her. Her recollection of Athos came into her mind.
His fearles.s deportment—his words, so firm yet so dignified, the
shades which by one word he had evoked, recalled to her the past
in all its. intoxication of poetry and romance, youth, beauty, the
eclat of love at twenty years of age, the bloody death of Buck-
ingham, the only man whom she ever really loved, and the heroism
of those obscure champions who had saved her from the double
hatred of Richelieu and of the king.
Mazarin looked at her, and whilst she deemed herself alone and
freed from that world of enemies who sought to spy into her secret
thoughts, he read her thoughts in her countenance, as one sees in
a transparent lake clouds pass—reflections, like thoughts, of the
heavens.
" Must we, then," asked Ailne of Austria, " yield to the storm,
purchase a peace, and await patiently and piously for. better
times?"
Mazarin smiled sarcastically at this speech, which showed that
she had taken the minister's proposal seriously.
Anne's head ^vas bent down, and she did not see this smile;
but finding that her question elicited no reply, she looked up.
" Well, you do not answer, Cardinal; what do you think about
it ?"
"I am thinking, madame, of the allusion made by that insolent
gentleman, whom you have caused to be arrested, to the Duke of
Buckingham—to him whom you suffered to be assassinated—to
464
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
the Duchesse de Chevreuse, whom you suffered to be exiled—to
the Due de Beaufort, whom you exiled; but he made no allusion
to me, because he is ignorant of the relation in which I stand to
you."
Anne drew up, as she always did, when anything touched her
pride. She blushed, and that she might not answer, clasped her
beautiful hands till her sharp nails almost pierced them.
" That man has sagacity, honour, and wit, not to mention like-
wise that he is a man of undoubted resolution. You know some-
thing about him, do you not, madame ? I shall tell him, there-
fore, and in doing so I shall confer a personal favour on him, how
he is mistaken in regard to me. What is proposed to me would
be, in fact almost an abdication, and an abdication requires re-
flection."
"An abdication?" repeated Anne; "I thought, sir, that it
was only kings who abdicated ?"
" Well," replied Mazarin, " and am I not almost a king—king,
indeed, of France ? Thrown over the foot of the royal bed, my
simar, madam, is not unlike the mantle worn by a king."
This is one of the humiliations which Mazarin made Anne
Undergo more frequently than any other, and which' bowed her
head with shame. Queen Elizabeth and Catherine II. of Russia
are the only two monarchs on record who were at once sovereigns
and lovers. Anne of Austria looked with a sort of terror at the
threatening aspect of the Cardinal—his physiognomy in such
moments was not destitute of a certain grandeur.
" Sir," she replied, " did I not say, and did you not hear me say
to those people, that you should do as you pleased ?"
"In that case," said Mazarin, "I think it must please me best
to remain : not only on account of my own interest, but for your
safety."
"Remain, then, sir; nothing can be more agreeable to me; only
do not allow me to be insulted."
"You are referring to the demands of the rebels, and to the
tone in which they stated them ? Patience ! They have selected
a field of battle on which I am an abler general than they are—
that of a conference. No, we shall beat them by merely tempo-
rising. They want food already. They will be ten times worse
off in a week."
" Ah, yes ! Good heavens ! I know it will end in that way ; but
it is not they who taunt me with the most wounding reproaches—■
but "
" I understand; you mean to allude to the recollections per-
THE ROYALTY OF CARDINAL MAZAR1N. 465
petually revived by these three gentlemen. However, we have
them safe in prison : and they are just sufficiently culpable for us
to keep them in prison as long as is convenient to us. One, only,
is still not in our power, and braves us. But, devil take him! we
shall soon succeed in sending him to rejoin his companions. We
have accomplished more difficult things than that. In the first
place, I have, as a precaution, shut up, at Rueil, near me, under
my own eyes, within reach of my hand, the two most intractable
ones. To-day the third will be there also."
" As long as they are in prison, all will be well," said Anne;
"but one of these days they will get out."
"Yes ; if your majesty releases them."
" Ah !" exclaimed Anne, following the train of her own thoughts
on such occasions; " one regrets Paris !"
"Why so ?"
" On account of the Bastille, sir; which is so strong and so
secure."
" Madame, these conferences will bring us peace; when we have
peace we shall regain Paris; with Paris, the Bastille, and our three
bullies shall rot therein."
Anne frowned slightly, when Mazarin, in taking leave, kissed
her hand.
Mazarin, after this half humble, half gallant attention, went
away. Anne followed him with her eyes, and as he withdrew, at
every step he took, a disdainful smile was seen playing, then
gradually burst upon her lips.
" I once," she said, " despised the love of a Cardinal who never
said 'I shall do,' but ' I have done.' That man knew of retreats
more secure than Rueil—darker, and more silent even than the
Bastille, Oh, the degenerate world 1"
CHAPTER LXXX.
precautions.
After quitting Anne, Mazarin took the road to Rueil, where he
usually resided; in those times of disturbance he went about with
numerous followers, and often disguised himself. In the military
dress he was indeed, as we have before stated, a very handsome
man.
In the court of the old chateau of St. Germains, he entered his
30
466
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
coach, and reached the Seine at Chaloii. The prince hkd supplied
him with fifty light horse, not so much by way of a guard, as
to show the deputies how readily the queen's generals dispersed
their troops, and to prove that they might be scattered about at
pleasure. Athos, on horseback, without his sword, and kept in-
sight by Comminges, followed the Cardinal in silence. Grimaudy
finding that his master had been arrested, fell back into the ranks,
near Aramis, without saying a word, and as if nothing had
happened.
Grimaud had, indeed, during twenty-two years of service, seen,
his master extricate himself from so many difficulties, that nothing
made him uneasy.
At the branching off of the road towards Paris, Aramis, who
had followed in the Cardinal's suite, turned back. Mazarin went
to the right hand, and Aramis could see the prisoner disappear at
i'he turning of the avenue. Athos, at the same moment, moved
by a similar impulse, looked back also. The two friends exchanged
a simple inclination of the head, and Aramis put his finger to his
hat, as if to bow; Athos, alone, comprehending by that signal that
he had some project in his head.
Ten minutes afterwards, Mazarin entered the court of that
chateau which his predecessor had built for him, at Rueil; as he
alighted, Comminges approached him.
" My lord," he asked, " where does your eminence wish
Monsieur Comte de la Fere to be lodged ?"
"Certainly in the pavilion of the orangery—in front of the
pavilion where the guard is. I wish every respect shown to the
count, although he is the prisoner of her majesty the queen."
" My lord," answered Comminges, " he begs to be taken into
the place where Monsieur d'Artagnan is confined—that is, in the
hunting lodge opposite the orangery."
• Mazarin thought for an instant.
Comminges saw that hq was undecided.
"'Tis-a very strong post," he resumed; "and forty good men,
tried soldiers, and.consequently having nothing to do with From
deurs, nor any interest in the Fronde."
" If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges,"
said Mazarin, " we must double the guard, and we are not rich
enough in defenders to commit such acts of prodigality."
Comminges smiled; Mazarin read, and construed that smile.
"You do not know these men, Monson Comminges, but I knoW'
them—first, personally; also, by hearsay. I sent them to carry
aid to King Charles, and they performed prodigies to save him:
PRECAUTIONS.
467
had it not been for an adverse destiny, that beloved monarch
would, this day, have been among us."
" But, since they served your Eminence so well, why are they,
my lord Cardinal, in prison ?"
" In prison ?" asked Mazarin; " and when has Rueil been a
prison ?"
"Ever since there were prisoners in it," answered Comminges.
1 " These gentlemen, Comminges, are not- ^prisoners," returned
Mazarin, with his ironical smile, "but guests'; and guests so precious,
that I have put a grating before each of their windows, and bolts
to their doors, that they may not be weary of being my visitors.
So much do I esteem them, that I am going to make the Count
de la Fere a visit, that I may converse with him tete-a-tete; and
that we may not be disturbed at our interview, you must conduct
him, as I said before, into the pavilion of the orangery; that, you
know, is my daily promenade."
Comminges bowed, and returned to impart to Athos the result
of his request. Athos, who had been awaiting the Cardinal's de-
cision with outward composure, but secret uneasiness, then
entreated that Comminges would do him one favour, which was
to intimate, to D'Artagnan that he was placed in the pavilion of the
orangery for the purpose of receiving a visit from the Cardinal,
and that he should profit by the opportunity, in order to ask for
some mitigation of their close imprisonment.
"Which cannot last," interrupted Comminges, "the Cardinal
said so ; there is no prison here."
" But there are oubliettes !" replied Athos, smiling.
"Oh ! that's a different thing; yes—I know there are traditions
of that sort," said Comminges : it was in the time of the other
Cardinal, who was a great nobleman; but our Mazarin—impos-
sible ! an Italian adventurer could not go to such lengths towards
such men as ourselves. Oubliettes are employed as a means ot
kingly vengeance, and a low-born fellow such as he is dare not
have recourse to them. No, no, be easy on that score. I shall,
however, inform Monsieur d'Artagnan of your arrival here."
Comminges then led the count to a room on the ground floor
of a pavilion, at the end of the orangery. They passed through
a court-yard, as they went, full of soldiers and courtiers. In the
centre of this court, in the form of a horse-shoe, were the build-
ings occupied by Mazarin, and at each wing the pavilion (or
smaller building) where D'Artagnan was, and that, level with the
orangery, where Athos was to be. Behind each end of these two
wings extended the park.
30—2
468
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
Athos, when he reached his appointed room, observed, through
the gratings of his window, walls, and roofs; and was told, on
inquiry, by Comminges, that he was looking on the back of the
pavilion where D'Artagnan was confined.
"Yes, 'tis too true," said Comminges, "'tis almost a prison;
but what a singular fancy this is of yours, count—you, who are
the very flower of our nobility—to go and spend your valour and
your loyalty amongst these upstarts, the Frondists ! Really and
truly, if ever I thought that I had a friend in the ranks of the
royal army, it was you. A Frondeur ! you, the Comte de la
Fere, on the side of Broussel, Blancmesnil, and Yiole ! For
shame ! you, a Frondeur !"
"On my word of honour," said Athos, "one must be either a
Mazarinist or a Frondeur. For a long time I had these words
whispered in my ears, and I chose the last; at any rate, it is a
French word. And now, I am a Frondeur—not of Broussel's
party, nor of Blancmesnil's, nor am I with Yiole—but with the
Due de Beaufort, the Dues de Bouillon and D'Elbeuf; with
princes, not with presidents, councillors, and low-born lawyers.
Besides, what a charming thing it would have been to serve the
Cardinal! Look at that wall—without a single window—which
tells you fine things about Mazarin's gratitude !"
"Yes," replied De Comminges, "more especially if that could
reveal how Monsieur d'Artagnan for this last week has been
swearing at him."
"Poor D'Artagnan," said Athos, with that charming melancholy
which was one of the external traits of his character, " so brave,
so good, so terrible to the enemies of those whom he loves; you
have two unruly prisoners there, sir."
"Unruly," Comminges smiled, "you wish to make me afraid, I
suppose. When he came here, Monsieur d'Artagnan provoked
and braved all the soldiers and inferior officers, in order, I sup-
pose, to have his sword back—that mood lasted some time—but
now, he's as gentle as a lamb, and sings Gascon songs which
make one die with laughing."
"And De Valon?" asked Athos.
"Ah, he's quite another sort of person—a formidable gentle-
man, indeed. The first day he broke all the doors in with a
single push of his shoulder; and I expected to see him leave
Rueil in the same way as Samson left Gaza. But his temper
cooled down like his friend's—he not only gets used to his cap-
tivity, but jokes about it."
" So much the better," said Athos; and, on reflection, he
strength and sagacity.
469
felt convinced that this improvement in the spirits of the two
captives proceeded from some plan formed by D'Artagnan for
their escape.
CHAPTER LXXXI.
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY.
Now let us pass the orangery, to the hunting lodge. At the ex-
tremity of the court-yard, where, close to a portico formed of
Ionic columns, there were dog-kennels, rose an oblong building,
the pavilion of the orangery, a half-circle, enclosing the court
of honours. It was in this pavilion, on the ground floor, that
D'Artagnan and Porthos were confined, suffering the hours of a
long imprisonment in a manner suitable to each different tem-
perament.
D'Artagnan was walking about like a tiger, his eye fixed, growling
as he paced along by the bars of a window looking upon the yard
of servant's offices.
Porthos was ruminating over an excellent dinner which had been
served up to him.
The one seemed to be deprived of reason, yet he was medi-
tating. The other seemed to meditate, yet he was sleeping. But
his sleep was a nightmare, which might be guessed by the inco-
herent manner in which he snored.
" Look," said D'Artagnan, " day is declining. It must be nearly
four o'clock. We have been in this place nearly eighty-three
hours."
" Hem!" muttered Porthos, with a kind of pretence of an-
swering.
" Did you hear, eternal sleeper ?" cried, D'Artagnan, irritated
that any one could doze during the day, when he had the greatest
difficulty in sleeping during the night.
" What ?" said Porthos.
" I say we have been here eighty-three hours."
" 'Tis your fault," answered Porthos.
" How, my fault ?"
"Yes, I offered to you to escape."
" By tearing down an iron bar and pushing in a door, Porthos.
People like us cannot just go out as they like; besides, going out
of this room is not everything."
" Well, then, let us kill the sentinel, and then we shall have
arms."
475
TWENTY YEARS APTER.
" Yes; but before we can kill him—and he is hard to kill, that
Swiss—he will shriek out, and the whole piquet will come, and
we shall be taken like foxes—we, who are lions—and thrown into
some dungeon, where we shall not even have the consolation of
seeing this frightful grey sky of Rueil, which is no more like the
sky of Tarbes than the moon to the sun. Lack-a-day ! if we only
had some one to instruct us about the physical and moral topo-
graphy of this castle. Ah ! when one thinks that for twenty years
—during which time I did not know what to do with myself—it
never occurred to me to come to study Rueil. And after all, 'tis
impossible but that Master Aramis, that Athos, that wise gentle-
man, should not discover our retreat; then, faith, it will be time
to act."
"Yes, more especially as it is not very disagreeable here, with
one exception."
"What?"
"Did you observe, D'Artagnan, that three days running they
have brought us brased mutton ?"
" No; but if that occurs a fourth time I shall complain of it, so
never mind."
" And then I feel the loss of my house; 'tis a long time since I
visited my castles."
"Forget them for a time; we shall return to them, unless Mazarin
razes them to the ground."
" Do you think that likely ?"
" No—the other Cardinal would have done so: but this one is
too low a fellow to risk it."
"You console me, D'Artagnan."
The two prisoners were at this point of their conversation when
Comminges entered, preceded by a sergeant and by two men, who
brought supper in a basket with two handles, filled with basons
and plates,
" What!" exclaimed Porthos, " mutton again ?"
" My dear Monsieur de Comminges," said D'Artagnan, " yoil
will find my friend, De Valon, will go to the most fatal lengths if
Monsieur Mazarin continues to provide us with this sort of meat;
mutton every day."
"I declare," said Porthos, "I shall eat nothing if they do not
take it away."
" Take away the mutton," said Comminges; " I wish Monsieur
de Valon to sup well, more especially as I have news to give him
which will improve his appetite."
" Is Mazarin put to death ?" asked Porthos.
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY.
" No; I am sorry to tell you he is perfectly well."
" So much the worse," said Porthos.
" Should you be very glad to hear that the Count de la Fere
was well ?" asked De Comminges.
D'Artagnan's small eyes were opened to the utmost.
" Glad !" he cried; " I should be more than glad ! Happy !—
beyond measure!"
" Well, I am desired by him to give you his compliments, and
to say that he is in good health."
" Then you have seen him ?"
"Certainly, I have."
"Where—if it is not impertinent."
" Near here," replied De Comminges, smiling; " so near that
if the windows which look on the orangery were not stopped up
you might see the place where he is."
" He is wandering about the environs of the castle," thought
D'Artagnan. Then he said aloud :
"You met him, I dare say, in the park—hunting, perhaps?"
" No; nearer, nearer still. Look behind this wall," said De
Comminges, knocking against the wall.
" Behind this wall ? What is there, then, behind this wall ?
I was brought here' by night, so devil take me if I know where
I am. The count is then in the chateau 1"
"Yes?"
" For what reason ?"
"The same as yourself."
" Athos is, then, a prisoner ?"
" You know well," replied De Comminges, " that there are no
prisoners at Rueil, because there is no prison."
" Don't let us play upon words, sir. Athos has been arrested ?"
" Yesterday, at Saint Germains, as he came out from the pre-
sence of the queen."
The arms of D'Artagnan fell powerless by his side. One might
have supposed him thunderstruck; a paleness ran like a cloud
over his dark skin, but disappeared immediately.
" A prisoner ?" he reiterated.
" A prisoner," repe'ated Porthos, quite dejected.
Suddenly D'Artagnan looked up, and in his eyes there was a
gleam which scarcely even Porthos observed; but it died away,
and he remained more sorrowful than before.
" Come, come," said Comminges, who, since D'Artagnan^ on
the day of Broussel's arrest, had saved him from the hands of
the Parisians, had entertained a real affection for him; " don't
472
TWENTY YEARS ARTE A
be unhappy, I never thought of bringing you bad news. Laugh
at the mischance which has befallen your friend and Monsieur de
Valon, instead of being in the depths of despair about it."
But D'Artagnan was still in a desponding mood.
" And how did he look ?" asked Porthos, who, perceiving that
D'Artagnan had allowed the conversation to drop, profited by it
to put in his word.
"Very well, indeed, sir," replied Comminges ; " at first, like you,
he seemed distressed; but when he heard that the Cardinal was
going to pay him a visit this very evening "
" Ah !" cried D'Artagnan; " the Cardinal going to visit the
Count de la Fere ?"
" Yes; and the count desired me to tell you that he should take
advantage of this visit to plead for you and for himself."
" Ah ! the dear count!" said D'Artagnan.
"A fine thing, indeed!" grunted Porthos. "A great favour!,
Zounds ! Monsieur the Count de la Fere, whose family is allied
to the Montmorency and the Rohan, is well worthy of Monsieur
Mazarin's civilities."
" Never mind !" said D'Artagnan, in his calmest tone, and
looking, but in vain, at Porthos, to see if he comprehended all the
importance of this visit. " 'Tis then Monsieur Mazarin's custom
to walk in his orangery ?" he added.
" He shuts himself up there every evening, and there, 'tis said,
ponders over state affairs."
" Let the Cardinal take care of going alone to visit the Count
de la Fere," said D'Artagnan; "for the count must be furious."
Comminges began to laugh. " Really, to hear you talk, one
would suppose you were cannibals. The count is an affable man ;
besides, he is unarmed; at the first word from his Eminence the
two soldiers about him would run to him."
"Now," said D'Artagnan ; "I've one last favour to ask of you,
Monsieur de Comminges."
"At your service, sir."
" You will see the count again ?"
"To-morrow morning."
" Will you remember us to him, and ask him to solicit one
favour for me—that his Eminence should do me the honour to
give me a hearing : that is all I want."
" Oh !" muttered Porthos, shaking his head; " never should I
have thought this of him / How misfortune humbles a man !"
" That shall be done," answered De Comminges.
" Tell the count that I am well; that you found me sad, but
resigned"
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY.
473
" I am pleased, sir, to hear that."
"And the same, also, for Monsieur de Valon—
" Not for me !" cried Pathos ; " I am not at all resigned."
" He will be so, monsieur; I know him better' than he knows
himself. Be silent, dear De Yalon, and resign yourself."
" Adieu, gentlemen," said De Comminges; " sleep well!"
"We will try."
De Comminges went away, D'Artagnan remaining apparently
in the same attitude of humble resignation; but scarcely had he
departed than he turned, and clasped Porthos in his arms, with an
expression not to be doubted.
" Oh !" cried Porthos ; " what's the matter now ? Are you mad,
my dear friend ?"
" What's the matter ?''* returned D'Artagnan; " we are saved !"
" I don't see that at all," answered Porthos. " I think we are
all taken prisoners, except Aramis, and that our chances of going
out are lessened since we were entangled in Mazarin's witchcraft."
"Which is far too strong for two of us, but not strong enough
for three of us," returned D'Artagnan.
" I don't understand," said Porthos.
"Nevermind; 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. Whilst we are eating, ideas
flow easily. After supper, when they are perfected, I will commu-
nicate my plans to you."
So Porthos sat down to table without another word, and ate with
an appetite that did honour to the confidence which D'Artagnan's
imagination had inspired him with.
CHAPTER LXXXII.
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 his
moments of good-humour illumined the face of D'Artagnan. Not
one of these smiles 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.
474
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
At dessert D'Artagnan reposed in his ohair, crossed one leg
over another, and lounged about like a man perfectly at his ease.
" Well ?" he said, at last.
" Well," repeated Porthos.
"You were saying, my dear friend "
"No; I said nothing."
"Well, you were saying you wished to leave this place."
"Ah, indeed ! will is not wanting."
"To go away hence you would not mind, you added, knocK-
ing down a door or a wall."
" 'Tis true, I said so, and I say it again."
" At what o'clock did we see, pray, the two Swiss guards walk
last night ?"
" An hour after sunset."
" If they go out to-day, as they did yesterday, we shall have
the honour, 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 com-
placently on his strong arm, as large as the leg of any ordinary
man.
" Yes, indeed," he said ; "pretty good."
" So that you could, without trouble, convert these tongs into
a hoop, and the shovel into a corkscrew ?"
"Certainly." And the giant took up these two articles, and,
without any apparent effort, produced in them the metamor-
p'hosis requested 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
Crete, who performed wonderful feats, such as binding his fore-
head with a cord and bursting it—of killing an ox with a blow
of his fist, and carrying it home on his shoulders, etc. I used
to learn all these feats by heart yonder, down at Pierrefonds,
and I have done all that he did except breaking a cord by the
swelling 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
naivete.
"Well, my dear friend, let us go near the window, and try
your strength in severing an iron bar."
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY—CONTINUED. 475
- Porthos approached 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 socket 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 trunk of his body through.
"Yes," he said.
"Now pass your arm through this opening."
« Why ?"
"You will know presently—pass it."
" I wish to know, however, that I may understand," said Porthos.
"You will know directly; see, the door of the guard-room
opens. They are going to send into the court the two guards
who accompany Monsieur Mazarin when he crosses into the
orangery. See, they are coming out, and have closed the door
of the guard-room after them."
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 guard-house 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 am going to say to you,
Porthos. Everything is in the execution."
" Good ; the execution of a plot 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 on it. As soon as you see him get up, stretch
out your arm and seize him by his neck. Then, raising him up
as Tobit raised the fish by the gills, you must pull him into your
room, .taking care to squeeze so tight that he can't cry out."
" Oh !" said Porthos. " Suppose I were 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."
"Marvellous !" exclaimed Porthos; looking at the Gascon with
the most profound admiration.
47'
TWENTY YEATS AFTER.
" Pooh !" replied D'Artagnan.
"Yes," said Porthos, recollecting himself, "but one uniform
and one sword are not enough 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 fasci-
nating 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 very 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 to 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
nere. Egad ! one would think it had been placed here on pur-
pose."
"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, and firm as a pair of pincers, the soldier's
throat. He raised him, almost stifling him as he drew him
through the aperture at the risk of flaying him as he pulled him
through. 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 scarf; and the moment he had done so, began to undress
him with the promptitude and dexterity of a man who learned his
business on the field of battle. Then the soldier, gagged and
oound, was carried inside 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
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY—CONTINUED. 477
another uniform and sword, you must play the same trick over
again. Stop! I see the other soldier issue from the guard-room,
and come towards us."
" I think," replied Porthos, " it would be imprudent to attempt
the same manoeuvre again; a failure would be ruinous. No : I
will go down, seize the man unawares, and bring him to you ready
gagged."
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 sue-
cessful as the first.
"There," said D'Artagnan, "'tis 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 breast-
plate, and the hat with the red feathers."'
It happened, however, that the second soldier was a Swiss of
gigantic proportions, so, except that some of the seams split, his
dress fitted Porthos perfectly.
They then dressed themselves.
" ;Tis done !" they both exclaimed at once. " As to you, com-
rades," 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 rather powerful, and that it was no joke to contend
against it.
D'Artagnan then made Porthos aware of his plan of action,
which Porthos then only partially comprehended.
" What is to happen ?" he asked.
" Follow me," replied D'Artagnan. "The man who lives to see,
shall see."
And, slipping through the aperture, he alighted in the court.
Scarcely had the two Frenchmen touched the ground than a-
door opened, and the voice of the vaiet-de-chambre called out,
" Make ready !"
At the same, moment, the guard-house was opened, and a
voice called out:
" La Bruyere and Du Barthois ! March !"
" It seems that I am named La Bruyere," said D'Artagnan.
" And I, Du Barthois," added Porthos.
"Where are you !" asked the valet-de-chambre, whose eres,
47§
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
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 de Valon?" he added, in a
low tone, to Porthos.
" If it lasts, it is capital," answered 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 completely. 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 to Porthos, with whom D'Artagnan had insisted on a
perfect 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 mute. All that he was allowed to say,
in case of emergencies, being the proverbial and solemn Der
Tuff el!
Bernouin went away and shut the door. When Porthos heard
the key of the lock turn, 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 humour 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."
" A grand difficulty !" cried Porthos.
" Hush !" said D'Artagnan.
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 lanthorn in his hand,
and a large beaver hat pulled down over his eyes.
STRENGTH AND SAGACITY—CONTINUED, 479
Porthos stood with his face against the wall, but he could not
render himself invisible; and the man in the cloak said to him,
giving him his lanthorn :
"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 towards 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 should 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, and 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, so as not only to make
the passage impassable, but that the door could not open
inwards.
" There !" said D'Artagnan, " we can't be overtaken. Come !
forwards !"
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
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 got, Porthos, by means of
women and doors."
" You're a great moralist, and that's the fact," said Porthos.
They entered : behind a glass window, by the light of the Car-
dinal's lanthorn, 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.
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"No Cardinal!" said D'Artagnan, "but only his man; where
the devil is he then ?"
Exploring, however, one of the side wings of the gallery, 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. He also perceived in this hold the steps of a winding
staircase.
He called Porthos to look at it.
" Had our object been money only," he said, " we should be
rich directly."
" How's that ?"
" Don't you understand, Porthos ? At the bottom of that stair-
case is, probably, the Cardinal's treasury, of which every one speaks
so much ; 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 this orange-tree over the place,
and no one 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 we don't want gold—we want other things,"
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 -afterwards 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 wax-light to ex-
plore with its aid 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 the 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 pushing a
spring in the wall, the slab on which the orange-tree was, turned,
and the orange-tree resumed its place.
Then the Cardinal put out the wax-light, slipped it into his
pocket, and taking up the lanthorn—"Now," he said, "for Mon.
sieur de la Fere."
" Very good," thought D'Artagnan, " 'tis our road likewise ; we
can go together."
THE OUBLIETTES OF CARDINAL MAZARIN.
481
Ali three set off on their walk, Mazarin taking the middle alley
and the friends the side one.
The Cardinal reached a second door without perceiving that he
was followed; the sand by which the alley was 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
stopped, 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 devil." And, with a movement of impatience, he turned
to retrace his steps.
" Dq 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, recog-
nised them, and let drop his lanthorn, uttering a cry of terror.
D'Artagnan picked it up ; by good luck it -had not been extin-
guished by the fall.
"Oh ! what imprudence, my lord," said D'Artagnan ; "'tis not
good to go about here without a light. Your Eminence might
knock against something or fall into some hole."
Monsieur D'Artagnan !" muttered Mazarin, not able to re-
cover from his astonishment.
"Yes, my lord, it is I—I've the honour of presenting you
Monsieur de Valon, 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.
" Havq you been long in the orangery ?" he asked in a trembling
voice, remembering the visit he had been paying to his treasury.
" We are just come, my lprd. *
32
482
TWENTY YEARS AFTER,
Mazarin breathed again. His fears were now no longer for his
hoards, but for himself. A sort of smile played on his lips.
"Come," he said, "you have taken me in a snare, gentlemen.
I confess myself conquered. You wish to ask for your liberty, and
I give it you."
" Oh, my lord !" answered D'Artagnan, " you are very 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 'tis the law of war, sir, you must buy it back again."
Mazarin felt a shiver all over him, a chill even to his heart's
core. His piercing look was fixed in vain on the satirical face of
the Gascon and on the unchanging countenance of Porthos. Both
were in shadow, and even a sybil 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 Count
de la Fere the question. Will your Eminence deign to open the
door which leads to the count's room, and in ten minutes it will
be settled."
Mazarin started.
" My lord," said D'Artagnan, " your Eminence sees that we
wish to act with all due forms of 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 least cry for help, our position being a
very critical one, you must not be angry with us if we go to ex-
tremities."
" Be assured," answered Mazarin, " that I shall attempt nothing;
I give you my word of honour."
D'Artagnan made a sign to Porthos to redouble his watchful-
ness; then turning to Mazarin :
"Now, my lord, let us enter, if you please."
CONFERENCES
483
CHAPTER EXXXIV.
conferences.
Mazarin turned the lock of a double door, on the threshold of
which they found Athos ready to receive his illustrious guest; on
seeing his friends he started with 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 smiling, " that our parts are changed, and that instead of these
gentlemen being my prisoners, I am theirs; but, 'gentlemen, I
warn ye, unless you kill me, your victory will be of 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 rancour 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 to 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 will have 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 enter-
tained none but noble thoughts, this feeling was expressed in his
eyes. .
"We shall not," answered D'Artagnan, "have recourse to
violence, except in the last extremity" (for he saw that Athos
seemed to lean towards Mazarin).
" If, on the contrary," resumed Mazarin, " you accept your
liberty "
" Why you, my lord, might take it away from us five minutes
31—2
484
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
afterwards; and from my knowledge of you, I belieye you will
take it away from us."
"No—oft 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 honour 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 little 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'm quite sorry
to be on bad terms with you."
" My lord, let us make it up; one resource always remains
to us."
"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, to the left, you will find the wall of the park; get
over it, and in three jumps you will be on the road, .and free."
"Ah ! by Jove, my lord," said D'Artagnan, " you have wellsaid,
but these are only words. Where is the key you spoke 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 localities, and shall never-find the
wall. Since your Eminence has come so far, a few steps farther
conduct us, my lord, to the wall."
" Be it so," replied the Cardinal; and walking at a staight line
he walked to the wall, at the foot of which they all four arrived at
the same instant.
"Are you satisfied, gentlemen?" asked Mazarin.
conferences.
4s
I think so, indeed; we should be hard to please if we were
not. Deuce take it! three poor gentlemen escorted by a prince of
the Church ! Ah ! apropos, my lord ! you remarked that we were
all vigorous, active, and armed." '
"Yes."
"You are mistaken. Monsieur de Valon and I are the only
two who are armed. The count is not; and should we meet with
any patrol, we must defend ourselves."
"'Tis true."
" Where can we find a sword ?" asked Porthos.
" My lord," said D'Artagnan, " will lend his—which is no use
to him—to the Count de-la Fibre."
" Willingly," said the Cardinal; " I will even ask the Count to
keep it for my sake."
"I promise you,<my lord, never to part with it," replied Athos.
"Well," remarked D'Artagnan, "this change of measures, how
touching it is ! have you not tears in your eyes, Porthos ?"
"Yes," said Porthos; "but I do not know if it is that or the
wind that makes me weep; I think it is the wind." ,
"Now climb up, Athos, quickly," said D'Artagnan. Athos,
assisted by Porthos, who lifted him up like a feather, arrived at
the top.
"Now jump down, Athos."
Athos jumped, and disappeared on the other side of the wall.
" Porthos, whilst I get up, watch the Cardinal. No, I don't want
your help. Watch the Cardinal. Lend me your back—but don't
let the Cardinal go."
Porthos lent him his back, and D'Artagnan was soon on the
summit of the wall, where he seated himself.
"Now, what?" asked Porthos.
"Now give me the Cardinal up here; if he makes any noise,
stifle him."
Mazarin wished to call out, but Porthos held him tight, and
passed him to D'Artagnan, who seized him by the neck and made
him sit down by him : then,, in a menacing tone, he said :
" Sir! jump directly down, close to Monsieur de 'la Fere, or,
on the honour of a gentleman, I'll kill you !"
" Monson, Monson," cried Mazarin, " you are breaking your word
to me !"
" I—did I promise you anything, my lord ?"
Mazarin groaned.
"You are free," he said, "'through me; your liberty was my
ransom."
486
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Agreed ; but the ransom of that immense treasure buried under
the gallery—must not one speak of that a little, my lord ?"
" Diavolo !" cried Mazarin, almost choked, and clasping his
hands; (t I am a ruined man !"
But, without listening to his grief, *D'Artagnan slipped him gently
down into the arms of Athos, who stood immovable at the bottom
of the wall.
Porthos next made an effort, which shook the wall; and by the
aid of his friend's hand, gained the summit.
" I did not understand at all," he said, " but I understand now;
how droll it is !"
"You think so? so much the better; but, that it may be droll
even to the end, let us not lose time." And he jumped off the
wall.
Porthos did the same.
The Gascon then drew his sword, and marched as an avant-
guard.
" My lord, which way do we go ? think well of your reply; for
should your Eminence be mistaken, there might be very grave
results for all of us."
" Along the wall, sir," said Mazarin, " there will be no danger of
losing yourselves."
The three friends hastened on, but in a short time were obliged
to slacken their pace. The Cardinal could not keep up with them,
though with every wish to do so.
Suddenly D'Artagnan touched sqmething warm, and which
moved.
" Stop ! A horse !" he cried ; " I have found a horse !'
"And I likewise," said Athos.
" I, too," said Porthos, who, faithful to the instructions, still held
tne Cardinal's arm.
" There's luck, my lord ! just as you were complaining of being
tired, and obliged_to walk."
But, as he spoke, a pistol ball fell near his feet, and these words
were pronounced :
" Touch it not!"
" Grimaud !" he cried, " Grimaud ! what art thou about! wert
thou sent by heaven ?"
"No, sir," said the honest servant; "it was Monsieur Afamis
who told me to take care of the horses."
" Is Aramis here ?"
" Yes, sir; he has been here since yesterday."
" What are you doing ?"
CONFERENCES.
487
t£ On the watch
" What! Aramis here ?" cried Athos.
"At the lesser gate of the castle; he's posted there."
" Are you a large party ?"
"Sixty."
" Let him know."
"This moment, sir."
And, believing that no one could execute the commission better
than he could, Grimaud set forth at full speed; whilst, enchanted
at being all together again, the three friends awaited his return.
There was no one in the whole group in ill humour except
Cardinal Mazarin.
CHAPTER LXXXV.
in which we begin to think that porthos will be at
last a baron, and d'artagnan a captain.
At the expiration of ten minutes Aramis arrived, accompanied by
Grimaud, and eight or ten followers. He was much delighted,
and threw himself into his friends' arms.
" You are then free, brothers ! free without my aid!"
" Do not be unhappy, dear friend, on that account; if you have
done nothing as yet, you will do something," replied Athos.
" I had well concerted my plans," pursued Aramis ; " the Coad-
jutor gave me sixty men; twenty guard the walls of the park,
twenty the road from Rueil to Saint Germains, twenty are dispersed
in the woods. I lay in ambuscade with my sixty men ; I encircled
the castle; the riding horses I entrusted to Grimaud, and I awaited
your coming out, which I did not expect till to-morrow, and I
hoped to free you without a skirmish. You are free to-night,
without fighting : so much the better ! how could you escape that
scoundrel, Mazarin?"
" 'Tis thanks to him," said D'Artagnan, " that we made our
escape, and "
" Impossible !"
"Yes, indeed, 'tis owing to him that we are at liberty."
"Well!" exclaimed Aramis, "this will reconcile me to him; but
I wish he were here that I might tell him that I did not believe
him to be capable of so noble an act."
" My lord," said D'Artagnan, no longer able to contain himself,
" allow me to introduce to you the Chevalier d'Herblay, who
488
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
wishes—as you may have heard—to offer his congratulations to
your Eminence."
And he retired, discovering Mazarin—who was in great con-
fusion—to the astonished gaze of Aramis.
" Ho ! ho !" exclaimed the latter, " the Cardinal! a fine prize !
halloo ! halloo ! friends ! to horse ! to horse !"
Several horsemen quickly ran to him.
" Zounds !" cried Aramis, " I may have done some good, then;
my lord, deign to receive my most respectful homage ! I will lay
a wager that 'tis that Saint Christopher, Porthos, who performed
this feat! Apropos ! I forgot " and he gave some orders in a
low voice to one of the horsemen.
"I think it will be wise to set off," said D'Artagnan.
" Yes; but I am expecting some one—a friend of Athos."
" A friend !" exclaimed the count.
" And here he is, galloping away through the bushes."
" The count! the count !" .cried a young voice, which made
Athos start.
" Raoul! Raoul!" he ejaculated.
For one moment the young man forgot his habitual respect—
he threw himself on his father's neck.
" Look, my Lord Cardinal," said Aramis, " would it not have
been a pity to have separated thosq, who love each other as we
love? Gentlemen," he continued, addressing_the cavaliers, who
became more and more numerous every instant, "gentlemen,
encircle his Eminence, that you may show him the greater
honour. He will, indeed, give us the favour of his company;
you will, I hope, be grateful for it. Porthos, do not lose sight of
his Eminence."
Aramis then joined Athos and D'Artagnan, who were consulting
together.
" Come," said D'Artagnan, after a conference of five minutes'
duration, "let us begin our journey."
" Where are we to go ?" asked Porthos.
" To your house, dear Porthos, at Pierrefonds; your fine chateau
is worthy of affording a princely hospitality to his Eminence; it is
also well situated; neither too near Paris, nor too far from it. We
can establish a communication between it and the capital with
great facility. Come, my lord, you shall there be treated like a
prince, as you are."
" A fallen prince !" exclaimed Mazarin, piteously.
" The chances of war," said Athos, " are many ; but be assured
we shall not take an improper advantage of them."
PORTBOS A BARON, D'ARTAGNAN A CAPTAIN. 489
" No ; but we shall make use of them," interposed D'Artagnan.
The rest of the night was employed by these cavaliers in travel-
ling, with the wonderful rapidity of former days. Mazarin, con-
tinuing sombre and pensive, permitted himself to be dragged along
in this way, which was like a race of phantoms. At dawn twelve
leagues had been passed, without stopping; half the escort were
exhausted, and several horses fell down.
" Horses now-a-days are not what they were formerly," observed
Porthos; "everything degenerates."
In about ten minutes the escort stopped at Ermenonville, but
the four friends- went on with fresh ardour, guarding Mazarin
carefully. At rioon they rode into the avenue of Pierrefonds.
" We are four of us," said D'Artagnan; " we must relieve each
other in mounting guard over my lord, and each of us must watch
for three hours at a time. Athos is going to examine the castle,
which it will be necessary to render impregnable in case of a siege;
Pofthos will see to the provisions, and Aramis to the troops of the
garrison. That is to say, Athos will be chief engineer, Porthos
purveyor in general, and Aramis governor of the fortress."
Meanwhile they gave up to Mazarin the handsomest room in
the chateau.
" Gentlemen," he said, when he was in his room, " you do not
expect-, I presume, to keep me here a long time incognito ?"
"No, my lord," replied the Gascon; "on the contrary, we think
of announcing very soon that we have you here."
"Then you will be besieged."
" We expect it."
" And what shall you do ?"
" Defend ourselves. Were the late Cardinal Richelieu alive, he
would tell you a certain story of the Bastion Saint Gervaise, which
we four, with our four lacqueys and twelve dead men, held out
against a whole army." .
" Such feats, sir, are done once, and are never repeated."
" However, now-a-days there's not need of so much heroism,
To-morrow the army of Paris will be summoned—the day after
it will be here ! The field of battle, instead, therefore, of being
at St. Denis, or at Charenton, will be near Compiegne, or Villars-
Cotterets."
" The prince will beat you, as he has always done."
" 'Tis possible, my lord; but before an engagement we shall
move away your Eminence to another castle belonging to our
friend De Valon, who has three. We will not expose your
Eminence to the chances of war."
490
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Como," answered Mazarin. " I see it will be necessary for
you to capitulate."
" Before a siege ?"
"Yes; the conditions will be better than afterwards."
" Ah, my lord ! as to conditions, you would soon see how
moderate and reasonable we are !"
" Come, now, pray what are your conditions ? I wish to know
whether I am among enemies or friends."
" Friends, my lord ! friends !"
" Well, then, tell me at once what you want, that I may see if
an arrangement be possible. Speak, Count de la Fere !"
" My lord," replied Athos, " for myself I have nothing to ask;
for France, were I to specify, I should have too much. I beg you
excuse me, and propose to the chevalier."
And Athos, bowing retired, and remained leaning against the
mantelpiece, merely as a spectator of the scene.
" Speak, then, chevalier !" said the Cardinal. What do you want ?
Nothing ambiguous, if you please. Be clear, short, and precise."
" As for me," replied Aramis, " I have in my pocket - that pro-
gramme of the conditions which the deputation—of which I
formed one—went yesterday to St. Germains to impose on you.
Let us consider the debts and claims the first. The demands in
that programme must be granted."
" We were almost agreed as to those," replied Mazarin; "let
us pass on to private and personal stipulations." '
"You suppose, then, that there will be some?" asked Aramis,
smiling.
"I do not suppose that you will all be so disinterested as
Monsieur de la Fere," replied the Cardinal, bowing to Athos.
" My lord ! you are right ! The count has a mind far above
vulgar desires and human passions ! He is a proud soul—he is a
man by himself! You are right—he is worth us all—and we
avow it to you !"
" Aramis !" said Athos, " are you jesting ?"
" No, no, dear friend; I state only what we all know. You are
right; it is not you alone this matter concerns, but my lord, and
his unworthy servant, myself."
" Well, then, what do you require besides the general conditions
before recited ?"
t "I require, my lord, that Normandy should be given to Madame
de Longueville, with five hundred thousand francs, and full abso-
lution. I require that his Majesty should deign to be godfather
to the child she has just borne; and that my lord, after having
PORTNOS A BARON, D'ARTAGNAN A CAPTAIN. 491
been present at the christening, should go to proffer his homage
to our Holy Father the Pope."
" That is, that you wish me to lay aside my ministerial functions,
to quit France, and be an exile."
" I wish his Eminence to become Pope on the first opportunity,
allowing me then the right of demanding full indulgences for my-
self and my friends."
Mazarin made a grimace which was quite indescribable, and
turned to D'Artagnan,—
" And you, sir ?" he said.
" I, my lord," answered the Gascon, " I differ from Monsieur
D'Herblay totally in the last point, though I agree with him in the
first. Far from wishing my lord to quit Paris, I hope he will stay
there and continue to be Prime Minister, as he is a great states-
man. I shall try, also, to help him to put down the Fronde; but
on one condition—that he sometimes remembers the king's faith-
ful servants, and gives the first vacant company of Musketeers to
some one I can mention to him. And you, Monsieur de
Valon "
" Yes, you, sir ! Speak, if you please," said Mazarin.
" As to me," answered Porthos, " I wish my lord Cardinal—to
do honour to my house, which has given him an asylum—would,
in remembranae of this adventure, erect my estate into a barony,
with a promise to confer that order on one of my friends, when-
ever his majesty next creates peers."
Mazarin bit his lip.
» " All that," he said, " appears to me to be ill-connected, gentle-
men; for if I satisfy some I shall displease others. If I stay in
Paris, I cannot go to Rome;, and if I become Pope I could not
continue to be Prime Minister ; and it is only by continuing Prime
Minister that I can make Monsieur D'Artagnan a captain, and
Monsieur de Valon a baron."
" True," said Aramis, " so, as I am in my minority, I give up
my proposal."
" Well, then, gentlemen, take care of your own concerns, and
let France settle matters as she will with me," resumed Mazarin.
" Ho ! ho !" replied Aramis. " The Frondeurs will have a
treaty, and your Eminence must sign it before us, promising, at
the same time, to obtain the queen's consent to it—here is the
treaty,—may it please your Eminence, read and sign it."
I know it," answered Mazarm.
" Then sign it."
" But, suooose I refuse ?"
492
TWENTY YEATS AT TEE
"Then," said D'Artagnan, "your Eminence must expect the
consequences of a refusal."
" Would you dare to touch a Cardinal ?"
"You have dared, my lord, to imprison her Majesty's Mus-
keteers."
"The queen will revenge me, gentlemen."
" I do not think so, although inclination might lead her to do
so, but we shall take your Eminence to Paris—and the Parisians
will defend us; therefore, sign this treaty, I beg of you." •
" Suppose the queen should refuse to ratify it ?"
" Ah ! nonsense !" cried D'Artagnan, " I can manage so that
her Majesty will receive me well; I know one method."
"What?"
" I shall take her Majesty the letter in which you tell her that
the finances are exhausted."
" And then ?" asked Mazarin, turning pale.
" When I see her Majesty embarrassed, I shall conduct her to
Rueil, make her enter the orangery, add show her a certain spring
which turns a box."
" Enough, sir," muttered the Cardinal, " you have said enough
—where is the treaty ?"
" Here it is," replied Aramis. " Sign, my lord," and he gave
him a pen.
Mazarin arose—walked some moments, thoughtful, but not de-
jected. , •
"And when I have signed," he said, "what is to be my
guarantee ?"
" My word of honour, sir," said Athos.
Mazarin started—turned towards the Count de la Fere—and,
looking for an instant at his noble and honest countenance, took
the pen.
"It is sufficient, count," he said, and he signed the treaty.
" And now, Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, " prepare to set off
for Saint Germains, and to leave a letter from me to the queen."
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
shows how with a threat and a pen more IS effected
than by the sword.
D'Artagnan knew his part well; he was aware that opportunity
has a forelock only for him who will take it, and he was not a man
to let it go by him without seizing it. He soon arranged a prompt
A PEN EFFECTS MORE THAN THE SWORD.
493
and certain manner of travelling, by sending relays of horses to
Chantilly, so that he could be in Paris in five or six hours.
Nothing was known at St. Germains about Mazarin's disap-
pearance, except by the queen, who concealed, to her friends even,
her uneasiness. She had heard all about the two soldiers who
were found, bound and gagged. Bernouin, who knew more about
the affair than anybody, had, in fact, gone to acquaint the queen
of the circumstances which had occurred. Anne had enforced the
utmost secrecy, and had disclosed the event to no one except the
Prince de Conde, who had sent five or six horsemen into the
environs of St. Germains, with orders to bring any suspicious
person who was going away from Rueil, in whatsoever direction it
might be.
On entering the court of the palace, D'Artagnan encountered
Bernouin, to whose instrumentality he owed a prompt introduction
to the queen's presence. He approached the sovereign with every
mark of profound respect, and having fallen on his knees, pre*
sented to her the Cardinal's letter.
It was, however, merely a letter of introduction. The queen
read it, recognised the writing, and, since there were no details in
it of what had occurred, asked for particulars. D'Artagnan related
everything, with that simple and ingenuous air which he knew how
to assume on some occasions. The queen, as he went on, looked
at him with increasing astonishment. She could not comprehend
how a man could conceive such an enterprise, and still less how he
could have the audacity to disclose it to her whose interest, and
almost duty, it was to punish him.
" How, sir !" she cried, as D'Artagnan finished, " you dare to
tell me the( details of your crime—to give me an account of your
treason !"
"Your majesty, on your side," said D'Artagnan, "is as much mis-
taken as to our intentions as the Cardinal Mazarin has always been."
"You are in error, sir," answered the queen. "I am so little
mistaken, that in ten minutes you shall be arrested, and in an hour
I shall set off to release my minister."
" I am sure your majesty will not commit such an act of im-
prudence; first, because it would be useless, and would produce
the most serious results. Before he could be set free, the Cardinal
would be dead; and, indeed, so convinced is he of this, that he
entreated me, should I find your majesty disposed to act in this
way, to do all I could to induce you to change your intentions."
" Well, then ! I shall be content with only arresting you !"
" Madame, the possibility of my arrest has been foreseen, and
494
TV/ENTY YEARS AFTER.
should I not have returned to-morrow, at a certain hour the next
day, the Cardinal will be brought to Paris, and delivered up to the
Parliament"
" I think," returned Anne of Austria, fixing upon him a glance
which, in any woman's face, would have expressed disdain, but in
a queen's, spread terror to those she looked upon—" I perceive
that you dare to threaten the mother of your sovereign."
" Madame," replied D'Artagnan, " I threaten only because I am
forced to do so. Believe me, madam, as true a thing as it is that
a heart beats in this bosom—a heart devoted to you—believe that"
you have been the idol of our lives; that we have—as you well
know—good Heaven !—risked our lives twenty times for your
majesty. Have you then, madame, no compassion on your people,
who love you, and yet who suffer—who love you, and who are yet
famished—who have no other wish than to bless you, and' who,
nevertheless no, I am wrong, your subjects, madam, will never
curse you ! Say one word to them ! and all will be ended; peace
succeeds to war, joy to tears, happiness to misfortune !"
Anne of Austria looked with wonderment on the warlike counte-
nance of D'Artagnan, which betrayed a singular expression of deep
feeling.
" Why did you not say all this before you acted ?" she said.
" Because, madame, it was necessary to prove to your majesty
one thing of which you doubted, that is, that we still possess
amongst us some valour, and are worthy of some consideration at
your hands."
" Then, in case of my refusal, this valour, should a struggle
occur, will go even to the length of carrying me off in the midst
of my court, to deliver me into the hands of the Fronde, as you
have done my minister ?"
" We have not thought about it, madame," answered D'Artagnan,
with that Gasgon effrontery which had in him the appearance of
" naivete" but if we four had so settled it, we should certainly
have done so."
" I ought," muttered Anne to herself, " by this time to remem-
ber that these are men of iron mould."
" Alas ! madame !" exclaimed D'Artagnan, " this proves to me
that it is only since yesterday that your majesty has imbibed a true
opinion of us. Your majesty will do us justice. In doing us
justice you will no longer treat us as men of ordinary stamp. You
will see in me an ambassador worthy of the high interests which
he is authorised to discuss with his sovereign."
" Where is the treaty ?"
A PEN EFFECTS MORE THAN THE SWORD.
495
" Here it is."
Anne of Austria cast ner eyes upon the treaty that D'Artagnan
presented to her.
" I do not see here," she said, " anything but general conditions;
the interests of the Prince de Conti, or of the Dues de Beaufort,
de Bouillon, and d'Elbeuf, and of the Coadjutor, are herein con-
■suited; but with regard to yours ?"
" We do ourselves justice, madame, even in assuming the high
position that we have. We do not think ourselves worthy to stand
near such great names."
" But you, I presume, have decided to assert your pretensions,
* viva voce ?' "
" I believe you, madame, to be a great and powerful queen, and
that it will be unworthy of your power and greatness if you do
not recompense the arm which will bring back his Eminence to
St. Germains."
" It is my intention so to do ; come—let us hear—speak."
" He who has negotiated these matters (forgive me if I begin by
speaking of myself, but I must take that importance to myself
which has been given to me, not assumed by me), he who has ar-
ranged matters for the return of the Cardinal, ought, it appears to
me, in order that his reward may not be unworthy of your Ma-
jesty, to be made commandant of the Guards—an appointment
. something like that of captain of the Musketeers."
" Tis the appointment that Monsieur de Treville had, that you
ask of me."
" The place, madame, is vacant; and although 'tis a year since
Monsieur de Treville has left it, is not yet filled up."
" But it is one of the principal military appointments in the
king's household."
" Monsieur de Treville was merely a .younger son of a Gascon
family, like me, madame; he occupied that post for twenty years."
" You have an answer ready for everything," replied the queen,
and she took a document, which she filled up and signed, from
her bureau.
" Undoubtedly, madame," said D'Artagnan, taking the docu-
ment and bowing, " this is a noble reward; but everything in this
world is unstable; and any man who happened to fall into dis-
grace with your majesty would lose everything."
" What then do you want ?" asked the queen, colouring, as she
found that she had to deal with a mind as subtle as her own.
"A hundred thousand francs for this poor captain of Mus-
496
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
keteers, to be paid whenever his services should no longer be ac-
ceptable to your majesty."
Anne hesitated.
"To think of the Parisians," resumed D'Artagnan, "offering
the other day, by an edict of the parliament, six hundred thousand
francs to any man soever who would deliver up the Cardinal to
them, dead or alive—if alive, in order to hang him : if dead, to
deny him the rights of Christian burial !—"
" Come," said Anne, " 'tis reasonable,—since you only ask from
a queen the sixth of what the parliament has proposed "—and she
signed an order for a hundred thousand francs.
" Now then?" she said, "what next ?"
" Madame, my friend De Valon is rich: and has therefore
nothing- in the way of fortune to desire •. but I think I remember
that there was a dispute between him and Monsieur Mazarin as to
making his estate a barony or not. 'Twas even a promise."
" A country clown," said Anne of Austria; " people will laugh."
" Let them !" answered D'Artagnan; " but I am sure of one
thing—that those who laugh at him in his presence will never
laugh a second time."
" Here goes the barony," said the queen, and she signed a
patent.
" Now there remains the chevalier, or the Abbe d'Herblay, as
your majesty pleases."
" Does he wish to be a bishop ?"
"No, madame, something easier to grant."
"What?"
" It is that the king should deign to stand godfather to the son
of Madame de Longueville."
The queen smiled.
" Nothing more ?" she, asked.
" No, madame, for I presume that the king, standing godfather
to him, could do no less than present him with five hundred
thousand francs, giving his father, also, the government of Nor-
mandy."
" As to the government of Normandy," replied the queen, " 1
think I can promise; but, with regard to the present, the Cardinal
is always telling me there is no more money in the royal coffers."
" We shall search for some, madame, and I think we can find
some, and if your majesty permits, we will seek for some together."
" What next ?"
"Madame, the Count de la Fere."
" What does he ask ?"
A PEN EFFECTS MORE THAN THE SWORE.
ml
" Nothing."
" There is in the world, then, one man who, having the power
to Task—asks for nothing."
" The Count de la Fere, madam, is more than a man ; he is a
demi-god."
" Are you satisfied, sir ?"
" There is one thing which the queen has not signed—her consent
to the treaty."
"Of what use to-day? I will sign to-morrow."
"lean assure her majesty that if she does not sign to-day, she
will not have time to sign to-morrow. Consent, then, I beg you,
madame, to write at the bottom of this schedule, which has been
drawn up by Mazarin, as you see."
"I consent to ratify the treaty proposed by the Parisians."
Anne was ensnared: she could not draw back—she signed;
but scarcely had she done so, when pride burst forth in her like a
tempest, and she began to weep.
D'Artagnan started on seeing these tears : since that time queens
have shed tears like other women.
The Gascon shook his head : these tears from royalty melted
his heart.
"Madame,1' he said, kneeling, "look upon the unhappy man at
your feet. Behold, madame! here are the august signatures of
your majesty's hand : if you think you are right in giving them to
me, you shall do so :—but, from this very moment, you are free
from any obligation to keep them."
And D'Artagnan, full of honest pride and of manly intrepidity,
placed in Anne's hands, in a bundle, the papers that he had, one
by one, won from her with so much difficulty.
There are moments—for if everything is not good, everything in
this world is not bad—in which the most rigid and the coldest
hearts are softened by the tears of strong emotion—of a generous
sentiment; one of these momentary impulses^ actuated Anne.
D'Artagnan, when he gave way to his own feelings—which were
in accordance with those of the queen—had accomplished all that
the most skilful diplomacy could have done. He was, therefore,
instantly recompensed, either for his address, or for his sensibility,
whichever it might be termed.
" You were right, sir," said Anne. " I misunderstood you.
There are the acts signed : I deliver them to you without compul-
sion : go and bring me back the Cardinal as soon as possible."
" Madame," faltered D'Artagnan, " it is twenty years ago—I
have a good memory—since I had the honour, behind a piece
32
498 TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
of tapestry in the Hotel de Ville, to kiss one of those beautiful
hands."
" There is the other," replied the queen; and that the left hand
should not be less liberal than the right, she drew from her fingers
a diamond—nearly similar to the one formerly given to him—" take
and keep this ring in remembrance of me."
" Madam," said D'Artagnan, rising, " I have only one thing
more to wish, which is, that the next thing you ask from me,
should be my life."
And with this way of concluding—a way peculiar to himself—
he arose and left the room.
" I have never rightly understood these men," said the queen,
as she watched him retiring from her presence; " and it is now
too late—for in a year the king will be of age."
In twenty-four hours D'Artagnan and Porthos conducted
Mazarin to the queen; and the one received his commission, the
other his patent of nobility.
On the same day the Treaty of Paris was signed; and it was
everywhere announced that the Cardinal had shut himself up for
three days, in order to draw it out with the greatest care.
CHAPTER LXXXVIL
in which it is shown that it is sometimes more difficult
for kings to return to the capitals of their kingdoms,
than to go out of them.
Whilst D'Artagnan and Porthos were engaged in conducting the'
Cardinal to St. Germains, Athos and Aramis returned to Paris.
Each had his own particular visit to make.
Aramis rushed to the Hotel de Ville, where Madame de Longue'
ville was sojourning. The duchess had loudly lamented the an-
nouncement of peace. War had made her a queen; peace brought
her abdication. She declared that she had never expected the
treaty, and that she wished for eternal war.
But Aramis consoled her, and pointed out the solid advantages
that were the result of peace—the precarious tenure of all she had
prized during war.
"Now," said Aramis to her, "detach your brother, the Prince
of Conde, from the queen, whom he does not like—from Mazarin,
whom he despises. The Fronde is a comedy, of which the first
DIFFICULTIES KINGS SOMETIMES EXPERIENCE. 499
act only is played. Let us wait for a denouement—for the day
when the Prince, thanks to you, shall have turned against the
court."
Madame de Longueville was persuaded of the influence of her
fine eyes, and was appeased; but Madame de Chevreuse frowned,
and, in spite of all the logic of Athos to show her that a prolonged
war would have been impracticable, contended in favour of hos-
tilities.
j " My fair friend," said Athos, "allow me to tell you that every-
body is tired of war. You will get yourself exiled, as you did in
the time of Louis XIII. Believe me, we have passed the time of
success in intrigue, and your beautiful eyes are not destined to be
blinded by regretting Paris, where there will always be two queens
as long as you are there."
" Oh," cried the duchess, " I cannot make war alone, but I can
avenge myself on that ungrateful queen and ambitious favourite—
on the honour of a duchess, I will avenge myself."
" Madame," replied Athos, " do not injure the Vicomte de
Bragelonne—do not ruin his prospects. Alas ! excuse my weak-
ness ! There are moments when a man grows young again in his
children."
The duchess smiled; half tenderly, half ironically.
" Count," she said, " you are, I fear, gained over to the court.
I suppose you have a blue ribbon in your pocket ?"
" Yes, madame; I have that of the Garter, which, King Charles I.
gave me some days before he died."
. " Come ! one must grow into an old woman," said the duchess,
pensively.
Athos took her hand, and kissed it. She sighed, as she looked
at him.
" Count," she said, " Bragelonne must he a charming place.
You are a man of taste. You have water—woods—flowers—
there ?"
She sighed again, and leaned her charming head, gracefully re-
clined, on her hand—still beautiful in form and colour.
" Madame !" exclaimed Athos, " what were you saying just now
about growing old ? Never have I seen you look so young—never
more beautiful!"
The duchess shook her head.
"Does Monsieur de Bragelonne remain in Paris?" she in-
quired.
" What think you of it ?" answered Athos.
32—2
5°°
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
" Leave it to me," replied the duchess; " really, sir, you are de-
lightful, and I should like to spend a month at Bragelonne."
" Are you not afraid of making people envious, duchess ?" replied
Athos.
"No, I shall go incognito, count, under the name of Marie
Michou. But do not keep Raoulwith you."
" Why not ?"
"Because he is in love."
"He—he is quite a child."
"And it is a child whom he loves."
Athos became thoughtful.
" You are right, duchess. This singular passion for a child of
s :ven years old may some day make him very unhappy. There is
to be war in Flanders. He shall go thither."
" And at his return you will send him to me. I will arm him
against love."
" Alas, madame !" exclaimed Athos, " to-day love is like war,
and the breastplate is become useless."
Raoul entered at this moment; he came to announce that the
solemn entrance of the king, the queen, and her ministers was to
take place on the ensuing day.
On the next day, in fact, at daybreak, the court made prepara-
tions to quit St. Germains.
Meanwhile, the queen every hour had been sending for D'Ar-
tagnan.
" I hear," she said, " that Paris is not quiet. I am afraid for
the king's safety; place yourself close to the coach-door on the
right."
" Be assured, madame; I will answer for the king's safety."
As . he left the queen's presence,. Bernouin summoned him to the
Cardinal.
" Sir," said Mazarin to him, " an ' £meute' is spoken of in Paris.
I shall be on the king's left, and as I am the chief person threa-
tened, remain at the coach-door to the left."
" Your Eminence may be perfectly easy," replied D'Artagnan;
"they will not touch a hair of your head."
" Deuce take it," he thought to himself, "how can I take care of
both ? Ah ! plague on't, I shall guard the king, and Porthos the
Cardinal."
This arrangement pleased everyone. The queen had confidence
in the courage of D'Artagnan, and the Cardinal in the strength of
Porthos.
The royal procession set out for Paris, Guitant and Conp
DIFFICULTIES KINGS SOMETIMES EXPERIENCE. 501
minges, at the head of the Guards, marched first; then came the
royal carriage, with D'Artagnan on one side, Porthos on the other;
then the Musketeers, for twenty-two years the old friends of D'Ar-
tagnan. During twenty he had been their lieutenant, their captain'
since the night before.
The cortege proceeded to Notre. Dame, where a Te Demn was
chaunted. All the people of Paris were in the streets. The Swiss
were drawn up along the road, but as the road was long, they were
placed at six or eight feet distance from each other, and one man
deep only. This force was, therefore, wholly insufficient, and
from time to time the line was broken through by the people, and
was formed again with difficulty. Whenever this occurred, although
it proceeded only from goodwill and a desire to see the king and
queen, Anne looked at D'Ar tagnan anxiously.
Mazarin, who had dispensed a thousand louis to make the people
cry " Long live Mazarin," and who had, therefore, no confidence in
acclamations bought at twenty pistoles each, looked also at
Porthos; but the gigantic body-guard replied to that look with his
fine bass voice, " Be tranquil, my lord;" and Mazarin became more
and more composed.
At the Palais Royal the crowd, which had forced in from the
adjacent streets, was still greater ; like a large impetuous crowd, a
wave of human beings came to meet the carriage, and rolled tu-
multuously into the Rue St. Honore.
When the procession reached the palace, loud cries of " Long
live their Majesties !" resounded. Mazarin leaned out of the;
window. One or two shouts of " Long live the Cardinal !" saluted
his shadow, but instantly hisses and yells stifled them remorse-
lessly. Mazarin turned pale, and sank back in his coach.
" Low-born fellows !" ejaculated Porthos.
D'Artagnan said nothing, but twirled his moustache with a
peculiar gesture which showed that his fine Gascon humour was
kindled.
Anne of Austria bent down and whispered 'in the young king's
ear:
"Say something gracious to Monsieur D'Artagnan, my lord."
The young king leaned towards the door.
" I have not said good morning to you, Monsieur D'Artagnan,"
he said; " nevertheless, I have remarked you. It was you who
were behind my bed-curtains that night when the Parisians wished
to see me asleep."
" And if the king permits me," returned the Gascon, " I shall
be near hint whenever there is danger to be encountered,"
502
TWENTY YEARS AFTER.
"Sir," said Mazarin to Porthos, "what would you do if the
crowd fell upon us ?"
" Kill as many asT could, my lord."
" Hem! Brave as you are, and strong as you are, you could
not kill all."
" 'Tis true," answered Porthos, rising in his saddle, in order
that he might see the immense crowd—"there are 'many of
them."
" I think I should like the other man better than this one,"
said Mazarin to himself, and he threw himself back in his
carriage.
The queen and her minister, more especially the latter, had
reason to feel anxious. The crowd, whilst preserving an appear-
ance of respect, and even of affection, for the king and queen-regent,
began to be tumultuous. Reports were whispered about, like
certain sounds which announces, as they are echoed from wave to
wave, the coming storm—and when they pass through a multitude,
presage an bneute.
D'Artagnan turned towards the Musketeers, and made a sign
imperceptible to the crowd, but very easily understood by that
chosen regiment, the flower of the army.
The ranks were closed, and a kind of shudder ran from man to
man.
At the Barriere des Sergents the procession was obliged to stop.
Comminges left the head of the escort, and went to the queen's
carriage. Anne questioned D'Artagnan by a look. He answered
in the same language.
" Proceed," she said.
Comminges returned to his post. An effort was made, and the
living barrier was violently broken through.
Some complaints arose from the crowd, and were addressed this
time to the king, as well as the Minister.
" Onwards !" cried D'Artagnan, with a loud voice.
" Onwards !" cried Porthos.
But, as if the multitude had waited only for this demonstration
to burst out,, all the sentiments of hostility that possessed it broke
out at once. Cries of " Down with Mazarin !" " Death to the
Cardinal!" resounded on all sides.
At the same time, through the streets of Grenelle, Saint Honore,
and Du Coq, a double stream of people broke the feeble hedge of
Swiss Guards, and came, like a whirlwind, even to the very legs
of Porthos' horse and that of D'Artagnan.
This new eruption was more dangerous than the others, being
DIFFICULTIES KINGS SOMETIMES EXPERIENCE. 503
composed of armed men. It was plain that it was not the .chance
combination of those who had collected' a number of the mal-
contents at the same spot, but the concerted attack organised by
an hostile spirit.
Each of these two mobs was led on by a chief, one of whom
appeared to belong, not to the people, but to the honourable cor-
poration of mendicants, and the other, who, notwithstanding his
affected imitation of the people, might, easily be discovered to be
a gentleman. Both were evidently stimulated by the same impulse.
There was a shock which was perceived even in the royal carriage.
Then, millions of cries, forming one vast uproar, were heard, mingled
with guns firing.
" The Musketeers ! here !" cried D'Artagnan. ,
The escort divided into two files. One ofc them passed round
to the right of the carriage; the other to the left. One went to
support D'Artagnan, the other Porthos. Then came a skirmish,
the more terrible, because it had no definite object; the more
melancholy, because those engaged in it knew not for whom they
were fighting. Like all popular movements, the shock given by
the rush of this mob was formidable. The Musketeers, few in
number, not being able, in the midst of this crowd, to make their
horses wheel round, began to give way. D'Artagnan offered to
lower the blinds of the royal carriage, but the young king stretched
out his arm, saying :
" No, sir ! I wish to see everything."
" If your majesty wishes to look out—well, then, look !" replied
D'Artagnan. And turning with that fury which made him so
formidable, he rushed towards the chief of the insurgents, a man
who, with a large sword in his hand, tried to clear out a passage
to the coach door, by a combat with two Musketeers.
"Make room !" cried D'Artagnan. "Zounds ! give way !"
At these words, the man with a pistol and sword raised his head;
but it was too late. The blow was sped by D'Artagnan; the rapier
had pierced his bosom.
" Ah! confound it!" cried the Gascon, trying in vain, too
late, to retract the thrust. " What the devil are you doing here,
count ?"
" Accomplishing my destiny," replied Rochefort, falling on one
knee. " I have already got up again after three stabs from you;
but I shall not rise after a fourth."
•"Count!" said D'Artagnan, with some degree of emotion, " I
struck without knowing that it was you. I am sorry, if you die,
foat you should die with sentiments of hatred towards me."
TWENTY YEARS AETER.
Rochefort extended his hand to D'Artagnan, who took it. The
count wished to speak, but a gush of blood stifled him. He
stiffened in the last convulsions of death, and expired !
" Bade, people !" cried D'Artagnan; " your leader is dead, and
you have no longer anything to do here."
" Indeed, as if De Rochefort had been the soul of the attack,
all the crowd who had followed and obeyed him took flight on
seeing him fall. D'Artagnan charged with a party of Musketeers
in the Rue de Coq, and that portion of the mob whom he assailed
disappeared like smoke, dispersing near the Place St. Germains
L'Auxerrois, and taking the direction of the quays.
D'Artagnan returned to help Porthos, if Porthos needed it; but
Porthos, on his side, had done his work as conscientiously as
D'Artagnan. The left of the carriage was as well cleared as the
right; and they drew up the blind of the window, which Mazarin,
less heroic than the king, had taken the precaution to lower.
Porthos looked very melancholy.
" What a devil of a face you have Porthos ! and what a strange
air for a victorious man !"
" But you," answered Porthos, " seem to me agitated."
" There's a reason ! Zounds ! I have just killed an old friend.'"*
" Indeed !" replied Porthos ; " who ?"
"That poor Count de Rochefort."
"Well! exactly like me ! I have just killed a man whose face
is not unknown to me. Unluckily, I hit him on the head, and
immediately his face was covered with blood."
"And he said nothing as he died ?"
"Yes; he said 'Oh !'"
" I suppose," answered D'Artagnan, laughing, " if he only said
that it did not enlighten you much."
" Well, sir !" cried the queen.
" Madame, the passage is quite clear, and your Majesty can
continue your road."
In fact, the procession arrived in safety at Notre Dame, at the
front gate of which all the clergy, with the Coadjutor at their head,
awaited the king, the queen and the minister, for whose happy
return they chanted a Te Deum.
CONCLUSION.
On going home, the two friends found a letter from Athos, who
desired them to meet him at the Grand Charleqiagne on the fbl-
lowing day.
CONCLUSION,;
Both of the friends went to bed early, but neither of them slept.
When we arrive at the summit of one's wishes, success has usually
the power of driving away sleep on the first night after the fulfil-
ment of long-cherished hopes.
The next night, at the appointed hour, they went to see Athos,
and found him and Aramis in travelling costume.
" What!" cried Porthos, " are we all going away then ? I have
also made my preparations this morning."
" Oh, heavens! yes," said Aramis. " There's nothing to do in
Paris now there's no Fronde. The Duchesse de Longueville has
invited me to pass some days in Normandy, and has deputed
me, while her son is being baptised, to go and prepare her re si-
dence at Rouen; after which, if nothing new occurs, I shall go
and bury myself in my convent at Noisy-le-Lec."
"And I," said Athos, "am returning to Bragelonne. You
know, dear D'Artagnan, I am nothing more than a good honest
country gentleman. Raoul has no other fortune but what I
possess, poor child! and I must take care of it for him, since I
only lend him my name."
" And Raoul—what shall you do with him ?"
" I leave him with you, my friend. War in Flanders has
broken out; you shall take him with you there. I am afraid that
remaining at Blois would be dangerous to his youthful mind,
Take him, and teach him to be as brave and loyal as you are
yourself."
" Then," replied D'Artagnan, " though I shall not have you,
Athos, at all events, I shall have that dear fair-haired head by me;
and though he is but a boy, yet, since your soul lives again in him,
dear Athos, so I shall always fancy that you are near me, sus-
taining and encouraging me."
The four friends embraced, with tears in their eyes.
Then they departed, without knowing whether they should ever
see each other again.
D'Artagnan returned to the Rue Tiquetonne with Porthos, still
possessed by the wish *to find out who the man was whom he had
killed. On arriving at the Hotel de la Chevrette they found the
Baron's equipages all ready, and Mousqueton on his saddle.
" Come, D'Artagnan," said Porthos, " bid adieu to your sword,
and go with me to Pierrefonds, to Bracieux, or to De Valon. We
will grow old together, and talk of our companions."
"No!" replied D'Artagnan, " deuce take it, the campaign is
going to begin; I wish to be there, I expect to get something
by it."
TWEN7 Y YEARS AFTER.
" What do you expect to get ?"
" Why, I expect to be a Marechal of France !"
" Ha, ha!" cried Porthos, who was not completely taken in
by D'Artagnan's gasconades.
" Ha !"
" Come, my brother, go with me," added D'Artagnan, " and I
will make you a duke !"
" No," answered Porthos, " Mouston has no desire to fight-^-
besides, they have made a triumphal entrance for me into my
barony, which will kill my neighbours with envy."
"To that I can say nothing," returned D'Artagnan, who knew
the vanity of the new baron. " Here, then, to our next merry
meeting."
" Adieu, dear Captain," said Porthos, " I shall always be happy
to welcome you to my barony."
" True,—when the campaign is over," replied the Gascon.
" The equipage of his honour is waiting," said Mousqueton.
The two friends, after a cordial pressure of the hand, there-
upon separated. D'Artagnan was standing at the door, looking
after Porthos with a mournful gaze, when the baron, after walking
scarcely more than twenty paces, returned—stood still—struck his
forehead with his finger, and exclaimed :
" I recollect!"
" What ?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"Who the beggar that I killed was."
" Ah ! indeed ! and who was he ?"
" 'Twas that low fellow, Bonacieux."
And Porthos, enchanted at having relieved his mind, rejoined
Mousqueton, and they disappeared round an angle of the street;
D'Artagnan stood for an instant, mute, pensive, and motionless;
then, as he went in, he saw the fair Madeleine, his hostess, stand-
ing on the threshold.
" Madeleine," said the Gascon, "give me your apartment on
the first floor; now that I am a captain in the Royal Musketeers,
I must make an appearance : nevertheless, still keep my room on
the fifth story for me; one never knows what may happen."
THE END.
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5
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