The next morning found the three heroes sleeping soundly. Trüchen had closed the outside blinds to keep the first rays of the sun from the heavy eyes of her guests, like a kind good woman. It was still perfectly dark then beneath Porthos' curtains and under Planchet's canopy, when D'Artagnan, awakened by an indiscreet ray of light which made its way through the windows, jumped hastily out of bed, as if he wished to be the first at the assault. He took by assault Porthos' room, which was next to his own. The worthy Porthos was sleeping with a noise like distant thunder; in the dim obscurity of the room his gigantic frame was prominently displayed, and his swollen fist hung down outside the bed upon the carpet. D'Artagnan awoke Porthos, who rubbed his eyes in a tolerably good humor. In the meantime Planchet was dressing himself, and met at their bedroom doors his two guests, who were still somewhat unsteady from their previous evening's entertainment. Although it was yet very early, the whole household was already up. The cook was mercilessly slaughtering poultry in the poultry-yard, and Celestin was gathering cherries in the garden. Porthos, brisk and lively as ever, held out his hand to Planchet, and D'Artagnan requested permission to embrace Madame Trüchen. The latter, to show that she bore no ill-will, approached Porthos, upon whom she conferred the same favor. Porthos embraced Madame Trüchen, heaving an enormous sigh. Planchet took both his friends by the hand.
"I am going to show you over the house," he said; "when we arrived last evening it was as dark as an oven, and we were unable to see anything; but in broad daylight everything looks different, and you will be satisfied, I hope."
"If we begin by the view you have," said D'Artagnan, "that charms me beyond everything; I have always lived in royal mansions, you know, and royal personages have some every good ideas upon the selection of points of view."
"I am a great stickler for a good view myself," said Porthos. "At my Chateau de Pierrefonds, I have had four avenues laid out, and at the end of each is a landscape of a different character altogether to the others."
"You shall see my prospect," said Planchet; and he led his two guests to a window.
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "this is the Rue de Lyon."
"Yes, I have two windows on this side, a paltry insignificant view, for there is always that bustling and noisy inn, which is a very disagreeable neighbor. I had four windows here, but I have only kept two."
"Let us go on," said D'Artagnan.
They entered a corridor leading to the bedrooms, and Planchet pushed open the outside blinds.
"Hollo! what is that out yonder?" said Porthos.
"The forest," said Planchet. "It is the horizon—a thick line of green, which is yellow in the spring, green in the summer, red in the autumn, and white in the winter."
"All very well, but it is like a curtain, which prevents one seeing a greater distance."
"Yes," said Planchet; "still one can see, at all events, everything between."
"Ah! the open country," said Porthos. "But what is that I see out there—crosses and stones?"
"Ah! that is the cemetery," exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Precisely," said Planchet; "I assure you it is very curious. Hardly a day passes that some one is not buried there; for Fontainebleau is by no means an inconsiderable place. Sometimes we see young girls clothed in white carrying banners; at others, some of the town-council, or rich citizens, with choristers and all the parish authorities; and then, too, we see some of the officers of the king's household."
"I should not like that," said Porthos.
"There is not much amusement in it, at all events," said D'Artagnan.
"I assure you it encourages religious thoughts," replied Planchet.
"Oh, I don't deny that."
"But," continued Planchet, "we must all die one day or another, and I once met with a maxim somewhere which I have remembered, that the thought of death is a thought that will do us all good."
"I am far from saying the contrary," said Porthos.
"But," objected D'Artagnan, "the thought of green fields, flowers, rivers, blue horizons, extensive and boundless plains, is no less likely to do us good."
"If I had any, I should be far from rejecting them," said Planchet; "but possessing only this little cemetery, full of flowers, so moss-grown, shady and quiet, I am contented with it, and I think of those who live in town, in the Rue des Lombards, for instance, and who have to listen to the rumbling of a couple of thousand vehicles every day, and to the trampling of a hundred and fifty thousand foot-passengers."
"But living," said Porthos; "living, remember that."
"That is exactly the reason," said Planchet timidly, "why I feel it does me good to see a few dead."
"Upon my word," said D'Artagnan, "that fellow Planchet was born to be a poet as well as a grocer."
"Monsieur," said Planchet, "I am one of those good-humored sort of men whom Heaven created for the purpose of living a certain space of time, and of considering all things good which they meet with during their stay on earth."
D'Artagnan sat down close to the window, and as there seemed to be something substantial in Planchet's philosophy, he mused over it.
"Ah, ah!" exclaimed Porthos, "if I am not mistaken, we are going to have a representation now, for I think I heard something like chanting."
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "I hear singing too."
"Oh, it is only a burial of a very poor description," said Planchet, disdainfully; "the officiating priest, the beadle, and only one chorister boy, nothing more. You observe, messieurs, that the defunct lady or gentleman could not have been of very high rank."
"No; no one seems to be following the coffin."
"Yes," said Porthos; "I see a man."
"You are right; a man wrapped up in a cloak," said D'Artagnan.
"It's not worth looking at," said Planchet.
"I find it interesting," said D'Artagnan, leaning on the window.
"Come, come, you are beginning to take a fancy to the place already," said Planchet, delightedly; "it is exactly my own case. I was so melancholy at first that I could do nothing but make the sign of the cross all day, and the chants were like nails being driven into my head; but now, the chants lull me to sleep, and no bird I have ever seen or heard can sing better than those which are to be met with in this cemetery."
"Well," said Porthos, "this is beginning to get a little dull for me, and I prefer going downstairs."
Planchet with one bound was beside his guest, to whom he offered his hand to lead him into the garden.
"What!" said Porthos to D'Artagnan, as he turned round, "are you going to remain here?"
"Yes, I shall join you presently."
"Well, M. d'Artagnan is right, after all," said Planchet; "are they beginning to bury yet?"
"Not yet."
"Ah! yes, the grave-digger is waiting until the cords are fastened round the bier. But see, a woman has just entered the cemetery at the other end."
"Yes, yes, my dear Planchet," said D'Artagnan, quickly, "leave me, leave me; I feel I am beginning already to bemuch comforted by my meditations, so do not interrupt me."
Planchet left, and D'Artagnan remained, devouring with his eager gaze from behind the half-closed blinds what was taking place just before him. The two bearers of the corpse had unfastened the straps by which they had carried the litter, and were letting their burden glide gently into the open grave. At a few paces distant, the man with the cloak wrapped round him, the only spectator of this melancholy scene, was leaning with his back against a large cypress-tree, and kept his face and person entirely concealed from the grave-digger and the priest; the corpse was buried in five minutes. The grave having been filled up, the priest turned away, and the grave-digger having addressed a few words to them, followed them as they moved away. The man in the mantle bowed as they passed him, and put a piece of money into the grave-digger's hand.
"Mordioux!" murmured D'Artagnan; "why that man is Aramis himself."
Aramis, in fact, remained alone, on that side at least; for hardly did he turn his head than a woman's footsteps, and the rustling of her dress, were heard in the path close to him. He immediately turned round, and took off his hat with the most ceremonious respect; he led the lady under the shelter of some walnut and lime-trees, which overshadowed a magnificent tomb.
"Ah! who would have thought it," said D'Artagnan; "the bishop of Vannes at a rendezvous! He is still the same Abbe Aramis as he was at Noisy-le-Sec. Yes," he added, after a pause; "but as it is in a cemetery, the rendezvous is sacred." And he began to laugh.
The conversation lasted for fully half an hour. D'Artagnan could not see the lady's face, for she kept her back turned toward him; but he saw perfectly well, by the erect attitude of both the speakers, by their gestures, by the measured and careful manner with which they glanced at each other, either by way of attack or defense, that they must be conversing about any other subject than that of love. At the end of the conversation the lady rose, and bowed most profoundly to Aramis.
"Oh, oh!" said D'Artagnan; "this rendezvous finishes like one of a very tender nature though. The cavalier kneels at the beginning, the young lady by-and-by gets tamed down, and then it is she who has to supplicate.—Who is this girl? I would give anything to ascertain."
This seemed impossible, however, for Aramis was the first to leave; the lady carefully concealed her head and face, and then immediately separated. D'Artagnan could hold out no longer; he ran to the window which looked out on the Rue de Lyon, and saw Aramis just entering the inn. The lady was proceeding in quite an opposite direction, and seemed, in fact, to be about to rejoin an equipage, consisting of two led horses and a carriage, which he could see standing close to the borders of the forest. She was walking slowly, her head bent down, absorbed in the deepest meditation.
"Mordioux! mordioux! I must and will learn who that woman is," said the musketeer again; and then, without further deliberation, he set off in pursuit of her. As he was going along, he tried to think how he could possibly contrive to make her raise her veil. "She is not young," he said, "and is a woman of high rank in society. I ought to know that figure and peculiar style of walk." As he ran, the sound of his spurs and of his boots upon the hard ground of the street made a strange jingling noise; a fortunate circumstance in itself, which he was far from reckoning upon. The noise disturbed the lady; she seemed to fancy she was being either followed or pursued, which was indeed the case, and turned round. D'Artagnan started as if he had received a charge of small shot in his legs, and then turning suddenly round, as if he were going back the same way he had come, he murmured, "Madame de Chevreuse!" D'Artagnan would not go home until he had learned everything. He asked Celestin to inquire of the grave-digger whose body it was they had buried that morning.
D Artagnan, recliningD'Artagnan, reclining upon an immense straight-backedchair, with his legs not stretched out, but simply placed upon a stool,formed an angle of the most obtuse form that could possibly be seen.—Page88.
"A poor Franciscan mendicant friar,"replied the latter, "who had not even a dog to love him in this world and to accompany him to his last resting-place."
"If that were really the case," thought D'Artagnan, "we should not have found Aramis present at his funeral. The bishop of Vannes is not precisely a dog as far as devotion goes; his scent, however, is quite as keen, I admit."
There was good living in Planchet's house. Porthos broke a ladder and two cherry-trees, stripped the raspberry-bushes, and was only unable to succeed in reaching the strawberry-beds on account, as he said, of his belt. Trüchen, who had got quite sociable with the giant, said that it was not the belt so much as his corporation; and Porthos, in a state of the highest delight, embraced Trüchen, who gathered him a handful of the strawberries, and made him eat them out of her hand. D'Artagnan, who arrived in the midst of these little innocent flirtations, scolded Porthos for his indolence, and silently pitied Planchet. Porthos breakfasted with a very good appetite, and when he had finished, he said, looking at Trüchen, "I could make myself very happy here." Trüchen smiled at his remark, and so did Planchet, but the latter not without some embarrassment.
D'Artagnan then addressed Porthos—"You must not let the delights of Capua make you forget the real object of our journey to Fontainebleau."
"My presentation to the king?"
"Certainly. I am going to take a turn in the town to get everything ready for that. Do not think of leaving the house. I beg."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Porthos.
Planchet looked at D'Artagnan nervously. "Will you be away long?" he inquired.
"No, my friend: and this very evening I will release you from two troublesome guests."
"Oh! Monsieur d'Artagnan! can you say—"
"No, no; you are an excellent-hearted fellow, but your house is very small. Such a house, with only a couple of acres of land, would be fit for a king, and make him very happy, too. But you were not born a great lord."
"No more was M. Porthos," murmured Planchet.
"But he has become so, my good fellow; his income has been a hundred thousand francs a year for the last twenty years, and for the last fifty years has been the owner of a couple of fists and a backbone, which are not to be matched throughout the whole realm of France. Porthos is a man of the very greatest consequence compared to you, and ... well, I need say no more, for I know you are an intelligent fellow."
"No, no, monsieur, explain what you mean."
"Look at your orchard, how stripped it is, how empty your larder, your bedstead broken, your cellar almost exhausted, look too ... at Madame Trüchen—"
"Oh! my good gracious!" said Planchet.
"Madame Trüchen is an excellent person," continued D'Artagnan, "but keep her for yourself, do you understand?" and he slapped him on the shoulder.
Planchet at this moment perceived Porthos and Trüchen sitting close together in an arbor: Trüchen, with a grace and manner peculiarly Flemish, was making a pair of earrings for Porthos out of a double cherry, while Porthos was laughing as amorously as Samson did with Delilah. Planchet pressed D'Artagnan's hand, and ran toward the arbor. We must do Porthos the justice to say that he did not move as they approached, and very likely, he did not think he was doing any harm. Nor indeed did Trüchen move either, which rather put Planchet out; but he, too, had been so accustomed to see fashionable people in his shop, that he found no difficulty in putting a good countenance on what was disagreeable to him. Planchet seized Porthos by the arm, and proposed to go and look at the horses, but Porthos pretended he was tired. Planchet then suggested that the Baron de Valon should taste some noveau of his own manufacture, which was not to be equaled anywhere; an offer which the baron immediately accepted; and, in this way, Planchet managed to engage his enemy's attention during the whole of the day, by dint of sacrificing his cellar, in preference to hisamour propre. Two hours afterward D'Artagnan returned.
"Everything is arranged," he said: "I saw his majesty at the very moment he was setting off for the chase: the king expects us this evening."
"The king expects me!" cried Porthos, drawing himself up. It is a sad thing to have to confess, but a man's heart is like a restless billow; for, from that very moment, Porthos ceased to look at Madame Trüchen in that touching manner which had so softened her heart. Planchet encouraged these ambitious leanings in the best way he could. He talked over, or rather gave exaggerated accounts of all the splendors of the last reign, its battles, sieges and grand court ceremonies. He spoke of the luxurious display which the English made; the prizes which the three brave companions had won, and how D'Artagnan, who at the beginning had been the humblest of the three, had finished by becoming the head. He fired Porthos with a generous feeling of enthusiasm, by reminding him of his early youth now passed away; he boasted as much as he could of the moral life this great lord had led, and how religiously he respected the ties of friendship; he was eloquent and skillful in his choice of subjects. He delighted Porthos, frightened Trüchen, and made D'Artagnan think. At six o'clock, the musketeer ordered the horses to be brought round, and told Porthos to get ready. He thanked Planchet for his kind hospitality, whispered a few words about a post he might succeed in obtaining for him at court, which immediately raised Planchet in Trüchen's estimation, where the poor grocer—so good, so generous, so devoted—had become much lowered ever since the appearance and comparison with him of the two great gentlemen. Such, however, is woman's nature; they are anxious to possess what they have not got, and disdain it as soon as it is acquired. After having rendered this service to his friend Planchet, D'Artagnan said in a low tone of voice to Porthos: "That is a very beautiful ring you have on your finger."
"Its worth three hundred pistoles," said Porthos.
"Madame Trüchen will remember you better if you leave her that ring," replied D'Artagnan, a suggestion which Porthos seemed to hesitate to adopt.
"You think it is not beautiful enough perhaps," said the musketeer. "I understand your feelings; a great lord as you are would not think of accepting the hospitality of an old servant without paying him most handsomely for it; but I am sure that Planchet is too good-hearted a fellow to remember that you have an income of a hundred thousand francs a year."
"I have more than half a mind," said Porthos, flattered by the remark, "to make Madame Trüchen a present of my little farm at Bracieux: it has twelve acres."
"It is too much, my good Porthos, too much just at present.... Keep it for a future occasion." He then took the ring off Porthos' finger, and approaching Trüchen, said to her: "Madame, Monsieur le Baron hardly knows how to entreat you, out of your regard for him, to accept this little ring. M. de Valon is one of the most generous and discreet men of my acquaintance. He wished to offer you a farm that he has at Bracieux, but I dissuaded him from it."
"Oh!" said Trüchen, looking eagerly at the diamond.
"Monsieur le Baron!" exclaimed Planchet, quite overcome.
"My good friend," stammered out Porthos, delighted at having been so well represented by D'Artagnan. These several exclamations, uttered at the samemoment, made quite a pathetic winding-up of a day which might have finished in a very ridiculous manner. But D'Artagnan was there, and, on every occasion, wherever D'Artagnan had exercised any control, matters had ended only just in the way he wished and desired. There were general embracings; Trüchen, whom the baron's munificence had restored to her proper position, very timidly, and blushing all the while, presented her forehead to the great lord with whom she had been on such very excellent terms the evening before. Planchet himself was overcome by a feeling of the deepest humility. Still, in the same generosity of disposition, Porthos would have emptied his pockets into the hands of the cook and of Celestin; but D'Artagnan stopped him.
"No," he said, "it is now my turn." And he gave one pistole to the woman and two to the man; and the benedictions which were showered down upon them would have rejoiced the heart of Harpagon himself, and have rendered, even him, prodigal of his money.
D'Artagnan made Planchet lead them to the chateau, and introduced Porthos into his own apartment, where he arrived safely without having been perceived by those he was afraid of meeting.
At seven o'clock the same evening, the king gave an audience to an ambassador from the United Provinces, in the grand reception-room. The audience lasted a quarter of an hour. His majesty afterward received those who had been recently presented, together with a few ladies, who paid their respects the first. In one quarter of the salon, concealed behind a column, Porthos and D'Artagnan were conversing together, waiting until their turn arrived.
"Have you heard the news?" inquired the musketeer of his friend.
"No!"
"Well, look, then." Porthos raised himself on tiptoe, and saw M. Fouquet in full court dress, leading Aramis toward the king.
"Aramis," said Porthos.
"Presented to the king by M. Fouquet."
"Ah!" ejaculated Porthos.
"For having fortified Belle-Isle," continued D'Artagnan.
"And I?"
"You—ah, you! as I have already had the honor of telling you, are the good-natured, kind-hearted Porthos; and so they begged you to take care of Saint-Mandé a little."
"Ah!" repeated Porthos.
"But, very happily, I was there," said D'Artagnan, "and presently it will be my turn."
At this moment Fouquet addressed the king. "Sire," he said, "I have a favor to solicit of your majesty. M. d'Herblay is not ambitious, but he knows he can be of some service. Your majesty needs a representative at Rome, who should be able to exercise a powerful influence there; may I request a cardinal's hat for M. d'Herblay?" The king started. "I do not often solicit anything of your majesty," said Fouquet.
"That is a reason, certainly," replied the king, who always expressed any hesitation he might have in that manner, and to which remark there was nothing to say in reply.
Fouquet and Aramis looked at each other. The king resumed: "M. d'Herblay can serve us equally well in France; an archbishopric, for instance."
"Sire," objected Fouquet, with a grace of manner peculiarly his own, "your majesty overwhelms M. d'Herblay; the archbishopric may, in your majesty's extreme kindness, be conferred in addition to the hat; the one does not exclude the other."
The king admired the readiness which he displayed, and smiled, saying: "D'Artagnan himself could not have answered better." He had no sooner pronounced the name, than D'Artagnan appeared.
"Did your majesty call me?" he said.
Aramis and Fouquet drew back a step, as if they were about to retire.
"Will your majesty allow me," said D'Artagnan quickly, as he led forward Porthos, "to present to your majesty M. le Baron de Valon, one of the bravest gentlemen of France."
As soon as Aramis saw Porthos, he turned as pale as death, while Fouquet clenched his hands under his ruffles. D'Artagnan smiled at both of them, while Porthos bowed, visibly overcome before the royal presence.
"Porthos here?" murmured Fouquet in Aramis' ear.
"Hush! there is some treachery at work," said the latter.
"Sire," said D'Artagnan, "it is more than six years ago that I ought to have presented M. de Valon to your majesty; but certain men resemble stars, they move not unless their friends accompany them. The Pleiads are never disunited, and that is the reason I have selected, for the purpose of presenting him to you, the very moment when you would see M. d'Herblay by his side."
Aramis almost lost countenance. He looked at D'Artagnan with a proud, haughty air, as though willing to accept the defiance which the latter seemed to throw down.
"Ah! these gentlemen are good friends, then," said the king.
"Excellent friends, sire, the one can answer for the other. Ask M. de Vannes now in what manner Belle-Isle was fortified?" Fouquet moved back a step.
"Belle-Isle," said Aramis coldly, "has been fortified by that gentleman," and he indicated Porthos with his hand, who bowed a second time. Louis could not withhold his admiration, though at the same time his suspicions were aroused.
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "but ask Monsieur le Baron whose assistance he had in carrying the works out?"
"Aramis'," said Porthos, frankly, and he pointed to the bishop.
"What the deuce does all this mean," thought the bishop, "and what sort of a termination are we to expect to this comedy?"
"What!" exclaimed the king, "is the cardinal's, I mean the bishop's, name Aramis?"
"Anom de guerre," said D'Artagnan.
"A name of friendship," said Aramis.
"A truce to modesty," exclaimed D'Artagnan; "beneath the priest's robe, sire, is concealed the most brilliant officer, a gentleman of the most unparalleled intrepidity, and the wisest theologian in your kingdom."
Louis raised his head. "And an engineer, also, it appears," he said, admiring Aramis' calm imperturbable self-possession.
"An engineer for a particular purpose, sire," said the latter.
"My companion in the musketeers, sire," said D'Artagnan, with great warmth of manner, "the man who has more than a hundred times aided your father's ministers by his advice—M. d'Herblay, in a word, who with M. de Valon, myself, and M. le Comte de la Fere, who is known to your majesty, formed that quadrille which was a good deal talked about during the late king's reign, and during your majesty's minority."
"And who has fortified Belle-Isle?" the king repeated in a significant tone.
Aramis advanced and said: "In order to serve the son as I have served the father."
D'Artagnan looked at Aramis most narrowly while he uttered these words, which displayed so much true respect, so much warm devotion, such entire frankness and sincerity, that even he, D'Artagnan, the eternal doubter, he, the almost infallible in his judgment, was deceived by it. "A man who lies cannot speak in such a tone as that," he said.
Louis was overcome by it. "In that case," he said to Fouquet, who anxiously awaited the result of this proof, "the cardinal's hat is promised. Monsieur d'Herblay, I pledge you my honor that the first promotion shall be yours. Thank M. Fouquet for it." Colbert overheard these words; they stung him to the quick and he left the salon abruptly. "And you, Monsieur de Valon," said the king, "what have you to ask? I am pleased to have it in my power to acknowledge the services of those who were faithful to my father."
"Sire—" begun Porthos, but he was unable to proceed with what he was going to say.
"Sire," exclaimed D'Artagnan, "this worthy gentleman is overpowered by your majesty's presence, he who has so valiantly sustained the looks and the fire of a thousand foes. But, knowing what his thoughts are, I—who am more accustomed to gaze upon the sun—can translate his thoughts; he needs nothing, his sole desire is to have the happiness of gazing upon your majesty for a quarter of an hour."
"You shall sup with me this evening," said the king, saluting Porthos, with a gracious smile.
Porthos became crimson from delight and from pride. The king dismissed him, and D'Artagnan pushed him into the adjoining apartment, after he had embraced him warmly.
"Sit next to me at table," said Porthos in his ear.
"Yes, my friend."
"Aramis is annoyed with me, I think."
"Aramis has never liked you so much as he does now. Fancy, it was I who was the means of his getting the cardinal's hat."
"Of course," said Porthos. "By-the-by, does the king like his guests to eat much at his table?"
"It is a compliment to himself if you do," said D'Artagnan, "for he possesses a royal appetite."
Aramishad cleverly managed to effect a diversion for the purpose of finding D'Artagnan and Porthos. He came up to the latter, behind one of the columns, and, as he pressed his hand, said, "So you have escaped from my prison?"
"Do not scold him," said D'Artagnan; "it was I, dear Aramis, who set him free."
"Ah! my friend," replied Aramis, looking at Porthos, "could you not have waited with a little more patience?"
D'Artagnan came to the assistance of Porthos, who already began to breathe hard, in perplexity.
"You see, you members of the Church are great politicians; we, mere soldiers, go at once to the point. The facts are these: I went to pay Baisemeaux a visit—"
Aramis pricked up his ears at this announcement.
"Stay!" said Porthos; "you make me remember that I have a letter from Baisemeaux for you, Aramis." And Porthos held out to the bishop the letter we have already seen. Aramis begged to be allowed to read it, and read it without D'Artagnan feeling in the slightest degree embarrassed by the circumstance that he was so well acquainted with the contents of it. Besides, Aramis' face was so impenetrable, that D'Artagnan could not but admire him more than ever; after he had read it, he put the letter into his pocket with the calmest possible air.
"You were saying, captain?" he observed.
"I was saying," continued the musketeer, "that I had gone to pay Baisemeaux a visit on his majesty's service."
"On his majesty's service?" said Aramis.
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "and, naturally enough, we talked about you and our friends. I must say that Baisemeaux received me coldly; so I soon took my leave of him. As I was returning, a soldier accosted me, and said (no doubt he recognized me, notwithstanding I was in private clothes), 'Captain, will you be good enough to read me the name written on this envelope?' and I read, 'To Monsieur de Valon, at M. Fouquet's, Saint-Mandé.' The deuce, said I to myself, Porthos has not returned, then, as I fancied, to Belle-Isle or Pierrefonds, but is at M. Fouquet's house, at Saint-Mandé: and as M. Fouquet is not at Saint-Mandé,Porthos must be quite alone, or, at all events, with Aramis; I will go and see Porthos, and I accordingly went to see Porthos."
"Very good," said Aramis, thoughtfully.
"You never told me that," said Porthos.
"I did not have the time, my friend."
"And you brought back Porthos with you to Fontainebleau?"
"Yes, to Planchet's house."
"Does Planchet live at Fontainebleau?" inquired Aramis.
"Yes, near the cemetery," said Porthos, thoughtlessly.
"What do you mean by 'near the cemetery?'" said Aramis, suspiciously.
"Come," thought the musketeer, "since there is to be a squabble, let us take advantage of it."
"Yes; the cemetery," said Porthos. "Planchet is a very excellent fellow, who makes very excellent preserves; but his house has windows which look out upon the cemetery. And a very melancholy prospect it is! So this morning—"
"This morning?" said Aramis, more and more excited.
D'Artagnan turned his back to them, and walked to the window, where he began to play a march upon one of the panes of glass.
"Yes; this morning, we saw a man buried there."
"Ah! ah!"
"Very depressing, was it not? I should never be able to live in a house where burials can always be seen from it. D'Artagnan, on the contrary, seems to like it very much."
"So D'Artagnan saw it as well?"
"Not simply saw it, he literally never took his eyes off the whole time."
Aramis started, and turned to look at the musketeer, but the latter was engaged in earnest conversation with Saint-Aignan. Aramis continued to question Porthos, and when he had squeezed all the juice out of this enormous lemon he threw the peel aside. He turned toward his friend D'Artagnan, and clapping him on the shoulder, when Saint-Aignan had left him, the king's supper having been announced, said, "D'Artagnan."
"Yes, my dear fellow," he replied.
"We do not sup with his majesty, I believe?"
"Yes, indeed, I do."
"Can you give me ten minutes' conversation?"
"Twenty, if you like. His majesty will take quite that time to get properly seated at table."
"Where shall we talk, then?"
"Here, upon these seats, if you like; the king has left, we can sit down, and the apartment is empty."
"Let us sit down, then."
They sat down, and Aramis took one of D'Artagnan's hands in his.
"Tell me candidly, my dear friend, whether you have not counseled Porthos to distrust me a little?"
"I admit I have, but not as you understand it. I saw that Porthos was bored to death, and I wished, by presenting him to the king, to do for him, and for you, what you would never do for yourselves."
"What is that?"
"Speak in your own praise."
"And you have done it most nobly, I thank you."
"And I brought the cardinal's hat a little nearer, just as it seemed to be retreating from you."
"Ah! I admit that," said Aramis, with a singular smile, "you are, indeed, not to be matched for making your friends' fortunes for them."
"You see, then, that I only acted with the view of making Porthos' fortune for him."
"I meant to have done that myself; but your arm reaches farther than ours."
It was now D'Artagnan's turn to smile.
"Come," said Aramis, "we ought to deal truthfully with each other; do you still love me, D'Artagnan?"
"The same as I used to do," replied D'Artagnan, without compromising himself too much by this reply.
"In that case, thanks; and now for the most perfect frankness," said Aramis: "you came to Belle-Isle for the king."
"Pardieu!"
"You wished to deprive us of the pleasure of offering Belle-Isle completely fortified to the king."
"But before I could deprive you of that pleasure, I ought to have been made acquainted with your intention of doing so."
"You came to Belle-Isle without knowing anything?"
"Of you? yes. How the devil could I imagine that Aramis had become so clever an engineer, as to be able to fortify like Polybius or Archimedes?"
"True. And yet you divined me yonder?"
"Oh! yes.
"And Porthos, too?"
"I did not divine that Aramis was an engineer. I was only able to divine that Porthos might have become one. There is a saying, one becomes an orator, one is born a poet; but it has never been said, one is born Porthos, and one becomes an engineer."
"Your wit is always amusing," said Aramis coldly. "Well, then, I will go on?"
"Do so."
"When you found out our secret, you made all the haste you could to communicate it to the king."
"I certainly made as much haste as I could, since I saw that you were making still more. When a man weighing 258 pounds, as Porthos does, rides post; when a gouty prelate—I beg your pardon, but you told me you were so—when a prelate scours along the road; I naturally suppose that my two friends, who did not wish to be communicative with me, had certain matters of the highest importance to conceal from me, and so I made as much haste as my leanness and the absence of gout would allow."
"Did it not occur to you, my dear friend, that you might be rendering Porthos and myself a very sad service?"
"Yes; I thought it not unlikely; but you and Porthos made me play a very ridiculous part at Belle-Isle."
"I beg your pardon," said Aramis.
"Excuse me," said D'Artagnan.
"So that," pursued Aramis, "you now know everything?"
"No, indeed."
"You know I was obliged to inform M. Fouquet of what had happened, in order that he might anticipate what you might have to tell the king?"
"That is rather obscure."
"Not at all; M. Fouquet has his enemies—you will admit that, I suppose."
"Certainly."
"And one in particular."
"A dangerous one?"
"A mortal enemy. Well! in order to counteract that man's influence, it was necessary that M. Fouquet should give the king a proof of a great devotion to him, and of his readiness to make the greatest sacrifices. He surprised his majesty by offering him Belle-Isle. If you had been the first to reach Paris, the surprise would have been destroyed, it would have looked as if we had yielded to fear."
"I understand."
"That is the whole mystery," said Aramis, satisfied that he had quite convinced the musketeer.
"Only," said the latter, "it would have been more simple to have taken me aside and said to me, 'My dear D'Artagnan, we are fortifying Belle-Isle, and intend to offer it to the king. Tell us frankly, for whom you are acting. Are you a friend of M. Colbert, or of M. Fouquet?' Perhaps I should not have answered you, but you would have added—'Are you my friend?' I should have said, 'Yes.'" Aramis hung down his head. "In this way," continued D'Artagnan, "you would have paralyzed my movements, and I should have gone to the king, and said, 'Sire, M. Fouquet is fortifying Belle-Isle, and exceedingly well, too; but here is a note, which the governor of Belle-Isle gave me for your majesty;' or 'M. Fouquet is about to wait upon your majesty to explain his intentions with regard to it.' I should not have been placed in an absurd position; you would have enjoyed the surprise you wished for, and we should not have had airy occasion to look askant at each other when we met."
"While, on the contrary," replied Aramis, "you have acted altogether as onefriendly to M. Colbert. And you really are a friend of his, I suppose?"
"Certainly not, indeed!" exclaimed the captain. "M. Colbert is a mean fellow, and I hate him as I used to hate Mazarin, but without fearing him."
"Well, then," said Aramis, "I love M. Fouquet, and his interests are mine. You know my position—. I have no property or means whatever—. M. Fouquet gave me several livings, a bishopric as well; M. Fouquet has served and obliged me like the generous-hearted man he is, and I know the world sufficiently well to appreciate a kindness when I meet with it. M. Fouquet has won my regard, and I have devoted myself to his service."
"You couldn't do better; you will find him a very good master."
Aramis bit his lips, and then said, "The best a man could possibly have." He then paused for a minute, D'Artagnan taking good care not to interrupt him.
"I suppose you know how Porthos got mixed up in all this?"
"No," said D'Artagnan: "I am curious, of course, but I never question a friend when he wishes to keep his real secret from me."
"Well, then, I will tell you."
"It is hardly worth the trouble, if the confidence is to bind me in any way."
"Oh, do not be afraid: there is no man whom I love better than Porthos, because he is so simple-minded and good. Porthos is so straightforward in everything. Since I have become a bishop, I have looked for those simple natures, which make me love truth and hate intrigue."
D'Artagnan simply stroked his mustache, but said nothing.
"I saw Porthos, and again cultivated his acquaintance; his own time hanging idly on his hands, his presence recalled my earlier and better days without engaging me in any present evil. I sent for Porthos to come to Vannes. M. Fouquet, whose regard for me is very great, having learned that Porthos and I were attached to each other by old ties of friendship, promised him increase of rank at the earliest promotion: and that is the whole secret."
"I shall not abuse your confidence," said D'Artagnan.
"I am sure of that, my dear friend; no one has a finer sense of honor than yourself."
"I flatter myself you are right, Aramis."
"And now," and here the prelate looked searchingly and scrutinizingly at his friend—"now let us talk of ourselves and for ourselves. Will you become one of M. Fouquet's friends? Do not interrupt me until you know what that means."
"Well, I am listening."
"Will you become a maréchal of France, peer, duke, and the possessor of a duchy, with a revenue of a million of francs?"
"But, my friend," replied D'Artagnan, "what must one do to get all that?"
"Belong to M. Fouquet."
"But I already belong to the king."
"Not exclusively, I suppose?"
"Oh! D'Artagnan cannot be divided."
"You have, I presume, ambitions, as noble hearts like yours have?"
"Yes, certainly I have."
"Well?"
"Well, I wish to be a maréchal; the king will make me maréchal, duke, peer—the king will make me all that."
Aramis fixed a searching look upon D'Artagnan.
"Is not the king master?" said D'Artagnan.
"No one disputes it; but Louis XIII. was master also."
"Oh, my dear friend, between Richelieu and Louis XIII. there was no D'Artagnan," said the musketeer, very quietly.
"There are many stumbling-blocks round the king," said Aramis.
"Not for the king."
"Very likely not; still—"
"One moment, Aramis; I observe that every one thinks of himself, and never of this poor young prince; I will maintain myself in maintaining him."
"And if you meet with ingratitude?"
"The weak alone are afraid of that."
"You are quite certain of yourself?"
"I think so."
"Still, the king may have no further need of you!"
"On the contrary, I think his need of me will be greater than ever; and hearken, my dear fellow, if it became necessary to arrest a new Conde, who would do it? This—this alone in all France!" and D'Artagnan struck his sword.
"You are right," said Aramis, turning very pale; and then he rose and pressed D'Artagnan's hand.
"That is the last summons for supper," said the captain of the musketeers; "will you excuse me?"
Aramis threw his arm round the musketeer's neck, and said, "A friend like you is the brightest jewel in the royal crown." And they immediately separated.
"I was right," thought D'Artagnan, "there is something on foot."
"We must make haste with the explosion," said Aramis, "for D'Artagnan has discovered the plot."
It will not be forgotten that the Comte de Guiche had left the queen-mother's apartment on the day when Louis XIV. presented La Valliere with the beautiful bracelets he had won at the lottery. The comte walked to and fro for some time outside the palace in the greatest distress, from a thousand suspicions and anxieties with which his mind was beset. Presently he stopped and waited on the terrace opposite the grove of trees, watching for Madame's departure. More than half an hour passed away; and as he was at that moment quite alone, the comte could hardly have had any very diverting ideas at his command. He drew his tablets from his pocket, and, after hesitating over and over again, determined to write these words—"Madame, I implore you togrant me one moment's conversation. Do not be alarmed at this request, which contains nothing in any way opposed to the profound respect with which I subscribe myself, etc., etc." He then signed and folded this singular supplication, when he suddenly observed several ladies leaving the chateau, and afterward several men also, in fact almost every person who had formed the queen's circle. He saw La Valliere herself, then Montalais talking with Malicorne; he saw the departure of the very last of the numerous guests who had a short time before thronged the queen-mother's cabinet.
Madame herself had not passed; she would be obliged, however, to cross the courtyard in order to enter her own apartments; and from the terrace where he was standing, De Guiche could see all that was passing in the courtyard. At last, he saw Madame leave, attended by a couple of pages, who were carrying torches before her. She was walking very quickly; as soon as she reached the door she said:
"Let some one go and see after De Guiche, he has to render me an account of a mission he had to discharge for me; if he should be disengaged, request him to be good enough to come to my apartment."
De Guiche remained silent and concealed in the shade; but, as soon as Madame had withdrawn, he darted from the terrace down the steps, and assumed a most indifferent air, so that the pages who were hurrying toward his rooms might meet him.
"Ah! it is Madame then who is seeking me!" he said to himself, quite overcome; and he crushed in his hand the letter which had now become useless.
"M. le Comte," said one of the pages, approaching him, "we are indeed most fortunate in meeting you."
"Why so, messieurs?"
"A command from Madame."
"From Madame!" said De Guiche, looking surprised.
"Yes, M. le Comte, her royal highness has been asking for you: she expects to hear, she told us, the result of a commission you had to execute for her. Are you at liberty?"
"I am quite at her royal highness's orders."
"Will you have the goodness to follow us, then?"
When De Guiche ascended to the princess's apartments, he found her pale and agitated. Montalais was standing at the door, apparently in some degree uneasy about what was passing in her mistress's mind. De Guiche appeared.
"Ah! is that you, Monsieur de Guiche?" said Madame; "come in, I beg. Mademoiselle de Montalais, I do not require your attendance any longer."
Montalais, more puzzled than ever, curtseyed and withdrew, and De Guiche and the princess were left alone. The comte had every advantage in his favor; it was Madame who had summoned him to a rendezvous. But how was it possible for the comte to make use of this advantage? Madame was so whimsical, and her disposition was so changeable. She soon allowed this to be perceived, for, suddenly opening the conversation, she said, "Well! have you nothing to say to me?"
He imagined she must have guessed his thoughts; he fancied (for those who are in love are so constituted, they are as credulous and blind as poets or prophets), he fancied she knew how ardent was his desire to see her, and also the subject of it.
"Yes, madame," he said, "and I think it very singular."
"The affair of the bracelets," she exclaimed eagerly; "you mean that, I suppose?"
"Yes, madame."
"And you think the king is in love, do you not?"
Guiche looked at her for some time; her eyes sunk under his gaze, which seemed to read her very heart.
"I think," he said, "that the king may possibly have had the idea of annoying some one here; were it not for that, the king would not show himself so earnest in his attentions as he is; he would not run the risk of compromising, from mere thoughtlessness of disposition, a young girl against whom no one has been hitherto able to say a word."
"Indeed! the bold, shameless girl!" said the princess, haughtily.
"I can positively assure your royal highness," said De Guiche, with a firmness marked by great respect, "that Mademoiselle de la Valliere is beloved by a man who merits every respect, for he is a brave and honorable gentleman."
"Bragelonne, perhaps?"
"My friend; yes, madame."
"Well, and although he is your friend, what does that matter to the king?"
"The king knows that Bragelonne is affianced to Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and as Raoul has served the king most valiantly, the king will not inflict an irreparable injury upon him."
Madame began to laugh in a manner that produced a mournful impression upon De Guiche.
"I repeat, madame, I do not believe the king is in love with Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and the proof that I do not believe it is, that I was about to ask you whoseamour propreit is likely the king is, in this circumstance, desirous of wounding? You who are well acquainted with the whole court, can perhaps assist me in ascertaining that; and assuredly, with greater reason too, since it is everywhere said that your royal highness is on very intimate terms with the king."
Madame bit her lips, and, unable to assign any good and sufficient reasons, changed the conversation. "Prove to me," she said, fixing on him one of those looks in which the whole soul seems to pass into the eyes, "prove to me, I say, that you intended to interrogate me at the very moment I sent for you."
De Guiche gravely drew from his tablets what he had written, and showed it to her.
"Sympathy," she said.
"Yes," said the comte, with an indescribable tenderness of tone, "sympathy. I have explained to you how and why I sought you; you, however, have yet to tell me, madame, why you sent for me."
"True," replied the princess. She hesitated, and then suddenly exclaimed, "Those bracelets will drive me mad!"
"You expected the king would offer them to you," replied De Guiche.
"Why not?"
"But before you, madame, before you, his sister-in-law, was there not the queen herself, to whom the king should have offered them?"
"Before La Valliere," cried the princess, wounded to the quick, "could he not have presented them to me? Was there not the whole court, indeed, to choose from?"
"I assure you, madame," said the comte, respectfully, "that if any one heard you speak in this manner, if any one were to see how red your eyes are, and, Heaven forgive me, to see, too, that earth trembling on your eyelids, it would be said that your royal highness was jealous."
"Jealous!" said the princess, haughtily; "jealous of La Valliere!"
She expected to see De Guiche yield beneath her haughty gesture and her proud tone; but he simply and boldly replied, "Jealous of La Valliere; yes, madame."
"Am I to suppose, monsieur," she stammered out, "that your object is to insult me?"
"It is not possible, madame," replied the comte, slightly agitated, but resolved to master that fiery nature.
"Leave the room," said the princess, thoroughly exasperated; De Guiche's coolness and silent respect having made her completely lose her temper.
De Guiche fell back a step, bowed slowly, but with great respect, drew himself up, looking as white as his lace cuffs, and in a voice slightly trembling, said, "It was hardly worth while to have hurried here to be subjected to this unmerited disgrace." And he turned away with hasty steps.
He had scarcely gone half a dozen paces when Madame darted like a tigress after him, seized him by the cuff, and, making him turn round again, said, trembling with passion as she did so, "The respect that you pretend to have is more insultingthan insult itself. Insult me, if you please, but at least speak."
"And do you, madame," said the comte, gently, as he drew his sword, "thrust this sword into my heart, rather than kill me by slow degrees."
At the look he fixed upon her—a look full of love, resolution, and despair even—she knew how readily the comte, so outwardly calm in appearance, would pass his sword through his own breast if she added another word. She tore the blade from his hands, and pressing his arm with a feverish impatience, which might pass for tenderness, said—
"Do not be too hard with me, comte. You see how I am suffering, and you have no pity for me."
Tears, which were the last crisis of the attack, stifled her voice. As soon as De Guiche saw her weep, he took her in his arms and carried her to an armchair; in another moment she would have been suffocated from suppressed passion.
"Oh, why," he murmured, as he knelt by her side, "why do you conceal your troubles from me? Do you love any one—tell me? It would kill me, I know, but not until after I should have comforted, consoled, and served you even."
"And do you love me to that extent?" she replied, completely conquered.
"I do indeed love you to that extent, madame."
She placed both her hands in his. "My heart is indeed another's," she murmured in so low a tone that her voice could hardly be heard; but he heard it, and said, "Is it the king you love?"
She gently shook her head, and her smile was like a clear bright streak in the clouds, through which, after the tempest had passed away, one almost fancies Paradise is opening. "But," she added, "there are other passions stirring in a high-born heart. Love is poetry; but the life of the heart is pride. Comte, I was born upon a throne, I am proud and jealous of my rank. Why does the king gather such unworthy objects round him?"
"Once more, I repeat," said the comte, "you are acting unjustly toward thatpoor girl, who will one day be my friend's wife."
"Are you simple enough to believe that, comte?"
"If I did not believe it," he said, turning very pale, "Bragelonne should be informed of it to-morrow; indeed he should, if I thought that poor La Valliere had forgotten the vows she had exchanged with Raoul. But no, it would be cowardly to betray any woman's secret; it would be criminal to disturb a friend's peace of mind."
"You think, then," said the princess, with a wild burst of laughter, "that ignorance is happiness?"
"I believe it," he replied.
"Prove it to me, then," she said hurriedly.
"It is easily done, madame. It is reported through the whole court that the king loves you, and that you return his affection."
"Well?" she said, breathing with difficulty.
"Well; admit for a moment that Raoul, my friend, had come and said to me, 'Yes, the king loves Madame, and has made an impression upon her heart,' I possibly should have slain Raoul."
"It would have been necessary," said the princess, with the obstinacy of a woman who feels herself not easily overcome, "for M. de Bragelonne to have had proofs, before he could venture to speak to you in that manner."
"Such, however, is the case," replied De Guiche, with a deep sigh, "that not having been warned, I have never examined the matter seriously; and I now find that my ignorance has saved my life."
"So, then, you would drive your selfishness and coldness to that extent," said Madame, "that you would let this unhappy young man continue to love La Valliere?"
"I would, until La Valliere's guilt were revealed."
"But the bracelets?"
"Well, madame, since you yourself expected to receive them from the king, what could I possibly have said?"
The argument was a telling one, and the princess was overwhelmed by it, and from that moment her defeat was assured. But as her heart and mind were instinct with noble and generous feelings, she understood De Guiche's extreme delicacy. She saw that in his heart he really suspected that the king was in love with La Valliere, and that he did not wish to resort to the common expedient of ruining a rival in the mind of a woman by giving the latter the assurance and certainty that this rival's affections were transferred to another woman. She guessed that his suspicions of La Valliere were aroused, and that in order to leave himself time for his conviction to undergo a change, so as not to ruin her utterly, he was determined to pursue a certain straightforward line of conduct. She could read so much real greatness of character, and such true generosity of disposition in her lover, that her heart seemed to warm with affection toward him, whose passion for her was so pure and delicate in its nature. Despite his fear of incurring her displeasure, De Guiche, by retaining his position as a man of proud independence of feeling and of deep devotion, became almost a hero in her estimation, and reduced her to the state of a jealous and little-minded woman. She loved him for it so tenderly, that she could not refuse to give him a proof of her affection.
"See, how many words we have wasted," she said, taking his hand: "suspicions, anxieties, mistrust, sufferings—I think we have mentioned all those words."
"Alas! madame, yes."
"Efface them from your heart as I drive them from mine. Whether La Valliere does or does not love the king, and whether the king does or does not love La Valliere—from this moment you and I will draw a distinction in the two characters I have to perform. You open your eyes so wide that I am sure you do not understand me."
"You are so impetuous, madame, that I always tremble at the fear of displeasing you."
"And see how he trembles now, poor fellow," she said, with the most charming playfulness of manner. "Yes, monsieur, I have two characters to perform. I am the sister of the king, the sister-in-law of the king's wife. In this character ought I not to take an interest in these domestic intrigues? Come, tell me what you think?"
"As little as possible, madame."
"Agreed, monsieur; but it is a question of dignity; and then, you know, I am the wife of the king's brother." Guiche sighed. "A circumstance," she added, with an expression of great tenderness, "which will remind you that I am always to be treated with the profoundest respect." Guiche fell at her feet, which he kissed, with the religious fervor of a worshiper. "And I begin to think that, really and truly, I have another character to perform. I was almost forgetting it."
"Name it, oh! name it," said Guiche.
"I am a woman," she said, in a voice lower than ever, "and I love another." He rose; she opened her arms, and their lips were pressed together. A footstep was heard behind the tapestry, and Mademoiselle de Montalais appeared.
"What do you want?" said Madame.
"M. de Guiche is wanted," replied Montalais, who was just in time to see the agitation of the actors of these four characters; for Guiche had constantly carried out his part with the greatest heroism.