The king, while these matters were being arranged, had sat down to the supper-table, and the not very large number of guests invited for that day had taken their seats, after the usual gesture intimating the royal permission to be seated. At this period of Louis XIV.'s reign, although etiquette was not governed by the strict regulations which subsequently were adopted, the French court had entirely thrown aside the traditions of good-fellowship and patriarchalaffability which existed in the time of Henry IV., and which the suspicious mind of Louis XIII. had gradually replaced by the pompous state, forms, and ceremonies which he despaired of being able fully to realize.
The king, therefore, was seated alone at a small separate table, which, like the desk of a president, overlooked the adjoining tables. Although we say a small table, we must not omit to add that this small table was the largest one there. Moreover, it was the one on which were placed the greatest number and quantity of dishes; consisting of fish, game, meat, fruit, vegetables, and preserves. The king was young and full of vigor and energy, very fond of hunting, addicted to all violent exercises of the body, possessing, besides, like all the members of the Bourbon family, a rapid digestion, and an appetite speedily renewed. Louis XIV. was a formidable table-companion; he delighted to criticise his cooks; but when he honored them by praise and commendation, the honor was overwhelming. The king began by eating several kinds of soup, either mixed together or taken separately. He intermixed, or rather he separated, each of the soups by a glass of old wine. He ate quickly and somewhat greedily. Porthos, who from the beginning had, out of respect, been waiting for a jog of D'Artagnan's arm, seeing the king make such rapid progress, turned to the musketeer and said in a low tone:
"It seems as if one might go on now; his majesty is very encouraging, from the example he sets. Look."
"The king eats," said D'Artagnan, "but he talks at the same time; try and manage matters in such manner that, if he should happen to address a remark to you, he should not find you with your mouth full, which would be very disrespectful."
"The best way in that case," said Porthos, "is to eat no supper at all; and yet I am very hungry, I admit, and everything looks and smells most invitingly, as if appealing to all my senses at once."
"Don't think of not eating for a moment," said D'Artagnan; "that wouldput his majesty out terribly. The king has a saying, 'that he who works well eats well,' and he does not like people to eat indifferently at his table."
"How can I avoid having my mouth full if I eat?" said Porthos.
"All you have to do," replied the captain of the musketeers, "is simply to swallow what you have in it whenever the king does you the honor to address a remark to you."
"Very good," said Porthos: and from that moment he began to eat with a well-bred enthusiasm of manner.
The king occasionally looked at the different persons who were at table with him, anden connoisseur, could appreciate the different dispositions of his guests.
"Monsieur de Valon!" he said.
Porthos was enjoying asalmi de lièvre,and swallowed half of the back. His name pronounced in such a manner had made him start, and by a vigorous effort of his gullet he absorbed the whole mouthful.
"Sire," replied Porthos, in a stifled voice, but sufficiently intelligible, nevertheless.
"Let thosefilets d'agneaube handed to Monsieur de Valon," said the king. "Do you like brown meats, M. de Valon?"
"Sire, I like everything," replied Porthos.
D'Artagnan whispered, "Everything your majesty sends me."
Porthos repeated, "Everything your majesty sends me," an observation which the king apparently received with great satisfaction.
"People eat well who work well," replied the king, delighted to haveen tete-à-tetea guest who could eat as Porthos did. Porthos received the dish of lamb, and put a portion of it on his own plate.
"Well?" said the king.
"Exquisite," said Porthos, calmly.
"Have you as good mutton in your part of the country, Monsieur de Valon?" continued the king.
"Sire, I believe that from my own province, as everywhere else, the best of everything is sent to Paris for your majesty's use; but, on the other hand, I do not eat lamb in the same way your majesty does."
"Ah, ah! and how do you eat it?"
"Generally, I have a lamb dressed quite whole."
"Quite whole?"
"Yes, sire."
"In what manner, then?"
"In this, sire: My cook, who is a German, first stuffs the lamb in question with small sausages which he procures from Strasburg, force-meat balls which he procures from Troyes, and larks which he procures from Pithiviers: by some means or other, which I am not acquainted with, he bones the lamb as he would do a fowl, leaving-the skin on, however, which forms a brown crust all over the animal; when it is cut in beautiful slices, in the same way as an enormous sausage, a rose-colored gravy pours forth, which is as agreeable to the eye as it is exquisite to the palate." And Porthos finished by smacking his lips.
The king-opened his eyes with delight, and, while cutting some of thefaisan en daube, which was being handed to him, he said:
"That is a dish I should very much like to taste, Monsieur de Valon. Is it possible! a whole lamb!"
"Completely so, sire."
"Pass those pheasants to M. de Valon; I perceive he is an amateur."
The order was immediately obeyed. Then, continuing the conversation, he said: "And you do not find the lamb too fat?"
"No, sire; the fat falls down at the same time as the gravy does, and swims on the surface: then the servant who carves removes the fat with a spoon, which I have had expressly made for that purpose."
"Where do you reside?" inquired the king.
"At Pierrefonds, sire."
"At Pierrefonds; where is that, M. de Valon—near Belle-Isle?"
"Oh, no, sire; Pierrefonds is in the Soissonnais."
"I thought you alluded to the lamb on account of the salt marshes."
"No, sire; I have marshes which are not salt, it is true, but which are not the less valuable on that account."
The king had now arrived at theentremets, but without losing sight of Porthos, who continued to play his part in the best manner.
"You have an excellent appetite, M. de Valon," said the king, "and you make an admirable guest at table."
"Ah, sire, if your majesty were ever to pay a visit to Pierrefonds, we would both of us eat our lamb together; for your appetite is not an indifferent one, by any means."
D'Artagnan gave Porthos a severe kick under the table, which made Porthos color up.
"At your majesty's present happy age," said Porthos, in order to repair the mistake he had made, "I was in the musketeers, and nothing could ever satisfy me then. Your majesty has an excellent appetite, as I have already had the honor of mentioning, but you select what you eat with too much refinement to be called a great eater."
The king seemed charmed at his guest's politeness.
"Will you try some of these creams?" he said to Porthos.
"Sire, your majesty treats me with far too much kindness to prevent me speaking the whole truth."
"Pray do so, M. de Valon."
"Well, sire, with regard to sweet dishes. I only recognize pastry, and even that should be rather solid: all these frothy substances swell the stomach, and occupy a space which seems to me to be too precious to be so badly tenanted."
"Ah! gentlemen," said the king, indicating Porthos by a gesture, "here is indeed a perfect model of gastronomy. It was in such a manner that our fathers, who so well knew what good living was, used to eat; while we," added his majesty, "can do nothing but trifle with our food." And as he spoke he took the breast of a chicken, with ham, while Porthos attacked a dish of partridges and land-rails. The cup-bearer filled his majesty's glass. "Give M. de Valon someof my wine," said the king. This was one of the greatest honors of the royal table. D'Artagnan pressed his friend's knee.
"If you could only manage to swallow the half of that boar's head I see yonder," said he to Porthos, "I shall believe you will be a duke and peer within the next twelvemonth."
"Presently," said Porthos, phlegmatically; "I shall come to it by-and-by."
In fact it was not long before it came to the boar's turn, for the king seemed to take a pleasure in urging on his guest. He did not pass any of the dishes to Porthos until he had tasted them himself, and he accordingly took some of the boar's head. Porthos showed that he could keep pace with his sovereign; and instead of eating the half, as D'Artagnan had told him, he ate three-fourths of it. "It is impossible," said the king in an undertone, "that a gentleman who eats so good a supper every day, and who has such beautiful teeth, can be otherwise than the most straightforward, upright man in my kingdom."
"Do you hear?" said D'Artagnan in his friend's ear.
"Yes; I think I am rather in favor," said Porthos, balancing himself on his chair.
"Oh! you are in luck's way."
The king and Porthos continued to eat in the same manner, to the great satisfaction of the other guests, some of whom, from emulation, had attempted to follow them, but had been obliged to give up on the way. The king soon began to get flushed, and the reaction of the blood to his face announced that the moment of repletion had arrived. It was then that Louis XIV., instead of becoming gay and cheerful, as most good livers generally do, became dull, melancholy and taciturn. Porthos, on the contrary, was lively and communicative. D'Artagnan's foot had more than once to remind him of this peculiarity of the king. The dessert now made its appearance. The king had ceased to think anything further of Porthos: he turned his eyes anxiously toward the entrance-door, and he was heardoccasionally to inquire how it happened that Monsieur de Saint-Aignan was so long in arriving. At last, at the moment when his majesty was finishing a pot of preserved plums with a deep sigh, Saint-Aignan appeared. The king's eyes, which had become somewhat dull, immediately began to sparkle. The comte advanced toward the king's table, and Louis arose at his approach. Everybody arose at the same time, including Porthos, who was just finishing an almond cake, capable of making the jaws of a crocodile stick together. The supper was over.
The king took Saint-Aignan by the arm, and passed into the adjoining apartment. "What has detained you, comte?" said the king.
"I was bringing the answer, sire," replied the comte.
"She has taken a long time to reply to what I wrote her."
"Sire, your majesty has deigned to write in verse, and Mademoiselle de la Valliere wished to repay your majesty in the same coin; that is to say, in gold."
"Verses! Saint-Aignan," exclaimed the king in ecstasy. "Give them to me at once." And Louis broke the seal of a little letter, inclosing the verses which history has preserved entire for us, and which are more meritorious in intention than in execution. Such as they were, however, the king was enchanted with them, and exhibited his satisfaction by unequivocal transports of delight; but the universal silence which reigned in the rooms warned Louis, so sensitively particular with regard to good breeding, that his delight might give rise to various interpretations. He turned aside and put the note in his pocket, and then advancing a few steps, which brought him again to the threshold of the door close to his guests, he said, "M. de Valon, I have seen you to-day with the greatest pleasure, and my pleasure will be equally great to see you again." Porthos bowed as the Colossus of Rhodes would have done, and retired from the room with his face toward the king. "M. d'Artagnan," continued the king, "you will await my orders in the gallery; I am obliged to you for having made me acquainted with M. de Valon. Gentlemen," addressing himself to the other guests, "I return to Paris to-morrow on account of the departure of the Spanish and Dutch ambassadors. Until to-morrow, then."
The apartment was immediately cleared of the guests. The king took Saint-Aignan by the arm, made him read La Valliere's verses over again, and said. "What do you think of them?"
"Charming, sire."
"They charm me, in fact, and if they were known—"
"Oh! the professional poets would be jealous of them; but it is not at all likely they will know anything about them."
"Did you give her mine?"
"Oh! sire, she positively devoured them."
"They were very weak, I am afraid."
"That is not what Mademoiselle de la Valliere said of them."
"Do you think she was pleased with them?"
"I am sure of it, sire."
"I must answer them, then."
"Oh! sire, immediately after supper? Your majesty will fatigue yourself."
"You're right; study after eating is very injurious."
"The labor of a poet, especially so: and besides, there is great excitement prevailing at Mademoiselle de la Valliere's."
"What do you mean?"
"With her as with all the ladies of the court."
"Why?"
"On account of poor De Guiche's accident."
"Has anything serious happened to De Guiche, then?"
"Yes, sire, he has one hand nearly destroyed, a hole in his breast: in fact he is dying."
De Guiche turned roundDe Guiche turned round also, and, at the moment thehorse was quiet again, he fired, and the ball carried off de wardes' hatfrom his head.—Page91.
"Good heavens! who told you that?"
"Manicamp brought him back just now to the house of a doctor here in Fontainebleau, and the rumor soon reached us all here."
"Brought back! Poor De Guiche; and how did it happen?"
"Ah! that is the very question, how did it happen?"
"You say that in a very singular manner, Saint-Aignan. Give me the details. What does he say himself?"
"He says nothing, sire: but others do."
"What others?"
"Those who brought him back, sire."
"Who are they?"
"I do not know, sire; but M. de Manicamp knows. M. de Manicamp is one of his friends."
"As everybody is, indeed," said the king.
"Oh! no!" returned Saint-Aignan, "you are mistaken, sire; every one is not precisely friends with M. de Guiche."
"How do you know that?"
"Does your majesty require me to explain myself?"
"Certainly I do."
"Well, sire, I believe I have heard something said about a quarrel between two gentlemen."
"When?"
"This very evening, before your majesty's supper was served."
"That can hardly be. I have issued such stringent and severe ordinances with respect to dueling, that no one, I presume, would dare to disobey them."
"In that case, Heaven preserve me from excusing any one!" exclaimed Saint-Aignan. "Your majesty commanded me to speak, and I spoke accordingly."
"Tell me, then, in what way the Comte de Guiche has been wounded?"
"Sire, it is said to have been at a boar-hunt."
"This evening?"
"Yes, sire."
"One of his hands shattered, and a hole in his breast. Who was at the hunt with M. de Guiche?"
"I do not know, sire; but M. de Manicamp knows, or ought to know."
"You are concealing something from me, Saint-Aignan."
"Nothing, sire, I assure you."
"Then, explain to me how the accident happened; was it a musket that burst?"
"Very likely, sire. But yet, on reflection, it could hardly have been that, for Guiche's pistol was found close by him still loaded."
"His pistol? But a man does not go to a boar-hunt with a pistol, I should think."
"Sire, it is also said that Guiche's horse was killed, and that the horse is still to be found in the wide open glade in the forest."
"His horse?—Guiche go on horseback to a boar-hunt!—Saint-Aignan, I do not understand a syllable of what you have been telling me. Where did the affair happen?"
"At the Rond-point, in that part of the forest called the Bois-Rochin."
"That will do. Call M. d'Artagnan." Saint-Aignan obeyed, and the musketeer entered.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the king, "you will leave this place by the little door of the private staircase."
"Yes, sire."
"You will mount your horse."
"Yes, sire."
"And you will proceed to the Rond-point du Bois-Rochin. Do you know the spot?"
"Yes, sire. I have fought there twice."
"What!" exclaimed the king, amazed at the reply.
"Under the edicts, sire, of Cardinal Richelieu," returned D'Artagnan, with his usual impassibility.
"That is very different, monsieur. You will, therefore, go there, and will examine the locality very carefully. A man has been wounded there, and you will find a horse lying dead. You will tell me what your opinion is upon the whole affair."
"Very good, sire."
"It is a matter of course that it is your own opinion I require, and not that of any one else."
"You shall have it in an hour's time, sire."
"I prohibit your speaking with any one, whoever it may be."
"Except with the person who must give me a lantern," said D'Artagnan.
"Oh! that is a matter of course," said the king, laughing at the liberty, which he tolerated in no one but his captain of musketeers. D'Artagnan left by the little staircase.
"Now, let my physician be sent for," said Louis. Ten minutes afterward the king's physician arrived, quite out of breath.
"You will go, monsieur," said the king to him, "and accompany M. de Saint-Aignan wherever he may take you; you will render me an account of the state of the person you may see in the house you will be taken to." The physician obeyed without a remark, as at that time people began to obey Louis XIV., and left the room preceding Saint-Aignan.
"Do you, Saint-Aignan, send Manicamp to me, before the physician can possibly have spoken to him." And Saint-Aignan left in his turn.
While the king was engaged in making these last-mentioned arrangements in order to ascertain the truth, D'Artagnan, without losing a second, ran to the stable, took down the lantern, saddled his horse himself, and proceeded toward the place which his majesty had indicated. According to the promise he had made, he had neither seen nor met any one; and, as we have observed, he had carried his scruples so far as to do without the assistance of the helpers in the stables altogether. D'Artagnan was one of those who in moments of difficulty pride themselves on increasing their own value. By dint of hard galloping, he in less than five minutes reached the wood, fastened hishorse to the first tree he came to, and penetrated to the broad open space on foot. He then began to inspect most carefully, on foot and with his lantern in his hand, the whole surface of the Rond-point, went forward, turned back again, measured, examined, and after half an hour's minute inspection, he returned silently to where he had left his horse, and pursued his way in deep reflection and at a foot-pace to Fontainebleau. Louis was waiting in his cabinet; he was alone, and with a pencil was scribbling on paper certain lines which D'Artagnan at the first glance recognized as being very unequal and very much scratched about. The conclusion he arrived at was, that they must be verses. The king raised his head and perceived D'Artagnan. "Well, monsieur," he said, "do you bring me any news?"
"Yes, sire."
"What have you seen?"
"As far as probability goes, sire," D'Artagnan began to reply.
"It was certainty I requested of you."
"I will approach it as near as I possibly can. The weather was very well adapted for investigations of the character I have just made; it has been raining this evening, and the roads were wet and muddy—"
"Well, the result, M. d'Artagnan?"
"Sire, your majesty told me that there was a horse lying dead in the cross-road of the Bois-Rochin, and I began, therefore, by studying the roads. I say the roads, because the center of the cross-road is reached by four separate roads. The one that I myself took was the only one that presented any fresh traces. Two horses had followed it side by side; their eight feet were marked very distinctly in the clay. One of the riders was more impatient than the other, for the foot-prints of the one were invariably in advance of the other about half a horse's length."
"Are you quite sure they came together?" said the king.
"Yes, sire. The horses are two rather large animals of equal pace—horses well used to maneuvers of all kinds, for they wheeled round the barrier of the Rond-point together."
"Well—and after?"
"The two cavaliers paused there for a minute, no doubt to arrange the conditions of the engagement; the horses grew restless and impatient. One of the riders spoke, while the other listened and seemed to have contented himself by simply answering. His horse pawed the ground, which proves that his attention was so taken up by listening that he let the bridle fall from his hand."
"A hostile meeting did take place, then?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Continue; you are a most accurate observer."
"One of the two cavaliers remained where he was standing, the one, in fact, who had been listening; the other crossed the open space, and at first placed himself directly opposite to his adversary. The one who had remained stationary traversed the Rond-point at a gallop, about two-thirds of its length, thinking that, by this means he would gain upon his opponent; but the latter had followed the circumference of the wood."
"You are ignorant of their names, I suppose?"
"Completely so, sire. Only he who followed the circumference of the wood was mounted on a black horse."
"How do you know that?"
"I found a few hairs of his tail among the brambles which bordered the sides of the ditch."
"Go on."
"As for the other horse, there can be no trouble in describing him, since he was left dead on the field of battle."
"What was the cause of his death?"
"A ball which had passed through his temple."
"Was the ball that of a pistol or a gun?"
"It was a pistol-bullet, sire. Besides, the manner in which the horse was wounded explained to me the tactics of the man who had killed it. He had followed the circumference of the wood in order to take his adversary in flank. Moreover, I followed his foot-tracks on the grass."
"The tracks of the black horse, do you mean?"
"Yes, sire."
"Go on, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"As your majesty now perceives the position of the two adversaries, I will, for a moment, leave the cavalier who had remained stationary for the one who started off at a gallop."
"Do so."
"The horse of the cavalier who rode at full speed was killed on the spot."
"How do you know that?"
"The cavalier had not time even to throw himself off his horse, and so fell with it. I observed the impression of his leg, which, with a great effort, he was enabled to extricate from under the horse. The spur, pressed down by the weight of the animal, had plowed up the ground."
"Very good; and what did he do as soon as he rose up again?"
"He walked straight up to his adversary."
"Who still remained upon the verge of the forest?"
"Yes, sire. Then, having reached a favorable distance, he stopped firmly, for the impression of both his heels are left in the ground quite close to each other, fired, and missed his adversary."
"How do you know he did not hit him?"
"I found a hat with a ball through it."
"Ah, a proof, then!" exclaimed the king.
"Insufficient, sire," replied D'Artagnan, coldly; "it is a hat without any letters indicating its ownership, without arms: a red feather, as all hats have: the lace, even, had nothing particular in it."
"Did the man with the hat through which the bullet had passed fire a second time?"
"Oh, sire, he had already fired twice."
"How did you ascertain that?"
"I found the waddings of the pistol."
"And what became of the bullet which did not kill the horse?"
"It cut in two the feather of the hat belonging to him against whom it was directed, and broke a small birch at the other end of the open glade."
"In that case, then, the man on the black horse was disarmed, while his adversary had still one more shot to fire."
"Sire, while the dismounted rider was extricating himself from his horse, the other was reloading his pistol. Only, he was much agitated while he was loading it, and his hand trembled greatly."
"How do you know that?"
"Half the charge fell to the ground, and he threw the ramrod aside, not having time to replace it in the pistol."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, it is marvelous what you tell me."
"It is only close observation, sire, and the commonest highwayman would do as much."
"The whole scene is before me from the manner in which you relate it."
"I have, in fact, reconstructed it in my own mind, with merely a few alterations."
"And now," said the king, "let us return to the dismounted cavalier. You were saying that he had walked toward his adversary while the latter was loading his pistol."
"Yes; but at the very moment he himself was taking aim, the other fired."
"Oh!" said the king; "and the shot?"
"The shot told terribly, sire; the dismounted cavalier fell upon his face, after having staggered forward three or four paces."
"Where was he hit?"
"In two places; in the first place, in his right hand, and then, by the same bullet, in his chest."
"But how could you ascertain that?" inquired the king, full of admiration.
"By a very simple means; the butt-end of the pistol was covered with blood, and the trace of the bullet could be observed with fragments of a broken ring. The wounded man, in all probability, had the ring-finger and the little finger carried off."
"As far as the hand goes, I have nothing to say; but the chest!"
"Sire, there were two small pools of blood, at a distance of about two feet and a half from each other. At one of these pools of blood the grass was torn up by the clenched hand; at the other the grass was simply pressed down by the weight of the body."
"Poor De Guiche!" exclaimed the king.
"Ah! it was M. de Guiche, then?" said the musketeer, very quietly. "I suspected it, but did not venture to mention it to your majesty."
"And what made you suspect it?"
"I recognized the De Grammont arms upon the holsters of the dead horse."
"And you think he is seriously wounded?"
"Very seriously, since he fell immediately, and remained a long time in the same place; however, he was able to walk, as he left the spot, supported by two friends."
"You met him returning, then?"
"No; but I observed the foot-prints of three men; the one on the right and the one on the left walked freely and easily, but the one in the middle dragged his feet as he walked; besides, he left traces of blood at every step he took."
"Now, monsieur, since you saw the combat so distinctly that not a single detail seems to have escaped you, tell me something about De Guiche's adversary?"
"Oh, sire, I do not know him."
"And yet you see everything very clearly."
"Yes, sire, I see everything; but I do not tell all I see; and, since the poor devil has escaped, your majesty will permit me to say that I do not intend to denounce him."
"And yet he is guilty, since he has fought a duel, monsieur."
"Not guilty in my eyes, sire," said D'Artagnan, coldly.
"Monsieur!" exclaimed the king, "are you aware of what you are saying?"
"Perfectly, sire; but, according to my notion, a man who fights a duel is a brave man; such, at least, is my own opinion; but your majesty may have another; that is very natural—you are the master here."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, I ordered you, however—"
D'Artagnan interrupted the king, by a respectful gesture. "You ordered me, sire, to gather what particulars I could, respecting a hostile meeting that had taken place; those particulars you have. If you order me to arrest M. de Guiche's adversary, I will do so; but do not order me to denounce him to you, for in that case I will not obey."
"Very well! Arrest him, then."
"Give me his name, sire."
The king stamped his foot angrily; but after a moment's reflection, he said, "You are right—ten times, twenty times, a hundred times right."
"That is my opinion, sire; I am happy that, this time, it accords with your majesty's."
"One word more. Who assisted Guiche?"
"I do not know, sire."
"But you speak of two men. There was a person present, then, as second."
"There was no second, sire. Nay, more than that, when M. de Guiche fell, his adversary fled without giving him any assistance."
"The miserable coward!" exclaimed the king.
"The consequence of your ordinances, sire. If a man has fought well and fairly, and has already escaped one chance of death, he naturally wishes to escape a second. M. de Botteville cannot be forgotten very easily."
"And so, men turn cowards."
"No, they become prudent."
"And he has fled, then, you say?"
"Yes; and as fast as his horse could possibly carry him."
"In what direction?"
"In the direction of the chateau."
"Well; and after—?"
"Afterward, as I have had the honor of telling your majesty, two men on foot arrived, who carried M. de Guiche back with them."
"What proof have you that these men arrived after the combat?"
"A very evident proof, sire; at the moment the encounter took place, the rain had just ceased, the ground had not had time to imbibe the moisture, and had, consequently, become damp; the footsteps sunk in the ground; but, while M. de Guiche was lying there in a fainting condition the ground became firm again, and the footsteps made a less sensible impression."
Louis clapped his hands together in sign of admiration. "Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, "you are positively the cleverest man in my kingdom."
"The very thing that M. de Richelieu thought, and M. de Mazarin said, sire."
"And, now, it remains for us to see if your sagacity is in fault."
"Oh! sire, a man may be mistaken;errare humanum est," said the musketeer, philosophically.
"In that case, you are not human, Monsieur d'Artagnan, for I believe you never are mistaken."
"Your majesty said, that we were going to see whether such was the case or not."
"Yes."
"In what way, may I venture to ask?"
"I have sent for M. de Manicamp, and M. de Manicamp is coming."
"And M. de Manicamp knows the secret?"
"Guiche has no secrets for M. de Manicamp."
D'Artagnan shook his head. "No one was present at the combat, I repeat; and, unless M. de Manicamp was one of the two men who brought him back—"
"Hush!" said the king, "he is coming; remain there, and listen attentively."
"Very good, sire."
And, at the same moment, Manicamp and Saint-Aignan appeared at the thresh-hold of the door.
The king with his hand made, first to the musketeer, and then to Saint-Aignan, an imperious and significant gesture, as much as to say, "On your lives, not a word." D'Artagnan withdrew, like a soldier, into a corner of the room; Saint-Aignan, in his character of favorite, leaned over the back of the king's chair. Manicamp, with his right foot properly advanced, a smile upon his lips, and his white and well-formed hands gracefully disposed, advanced to make his reverence to the king, who returned the salutation by a bow. "Good evening, M. de Manicamp," he said.
"Your majesty did me the honor to send for me," said Manicamp.
"Yes, in order to learn from you all the details of the unfortunate accident which has befallen the Comte de Guiche."
"Oh! sire, it is very grievous indeed."
"You were there?"
"Not precisely so, sire."
"But you arrived on the scene where the accident occurred a few minutes after it took place?"
"I did so, sire, about half an hour afterward."
"And where did the accident happen?"
"I believe, sire, the place is called the Rond-point du Bois-Rochin."
"Oh! the rendezvous of the hunt."
"The very spot, sire."
"Very good; tell me what details you are acquainted with, respecting this unhappy affair, Monsieur de Manicamp."
"Perhaps your majesty has already been informed of them, and I fear to fatigue you by useless repetitions."
"No, do not be afraid of that."
Manicamp looked all around him; he only saw D'Artagnan leaning with his back against the wainscot—D'Artagnan, calm, kind, and good-natured as usual—and Saint-Aignan whom he had accompanied, and who still leaned over the king's armchair with an expression of countenance equally full of good feeling. He determined, therefore, to speak out. "Your majesty is perfectly aware," he said, "that accidents are very frequent in hunting."
"In hunting, do you say?"
"I mean, sire, when an animal is brought to bay."
"Ah! ah!" said the king, "it was when the animal was brought to bay, then, that the accident happened."
"Alas! sire, unhappily, it was so."
The king paused for a moment before he said: "What animal was being hunted?"
"A wild boar, sire."
"And what could possibly have possessed De Guiche to go to a wild-boar hunt by himself; that is but a clownish idea of sport, and only fit for that class of people who, unlike the Maréchal de Grammont, have no dogs and huntsmen to hunt as gentlemen should do."
Manicamp shrugged his shoulders. "Youth is very rash," he said sententiously.
"Well, go on," said the king.
"At all events," continued Manicamp, not venturing to be too precipitate and hasty, and letting his words fall very slowly, one by one, "at all events, sire, poor De Guiche went hunting—quite alone."
"Quite alone, indeed! What a sportsman. And is not M. de Guiche aware that the wild boar always stands at bay?"
"That is the very thing that really happened, sire."
"He had some idea, then, of the beast being there?"
"Yes, sire, some peasants had seen it among their potatoes."
"And what kind of animal was it?"
"A short, thick beast."
"You may as well tell me, monsieur, that Guiche had some idea of committing suicide, for I have seen him hunt, and he is an active and vigorous hunter. Whenever he fires at an animal brought to bay and held in check by the dogs, he takes every possible precaution, and yet he fires with a carbine, and on this occasion he seems to have faced the boar with pistols only."
Manicamp started.
"A costly pair of pistols, excellent weapons to fight a duel with a man and not with a wild boar. What absurdity."
"There are some things, sire, which are difficult of explanation."
"You are quite right, and the event which we are now discussing is one of those things. Go on."
During the recital, Saint-Aignan, who had probably made a sign to Manicamp to be careful what he was about, found that the king's glance was constantly fixed upon himself, so that it was utterly impossible to communicate with Manicamp in any way. As for D'Artagnan, the statue of Silence at Athens was far more noisy and far more expressive than he. Manicamp, therefore, was obliged to continue in the same way he had begun, and so contrived to get more and more entangled in his explanation. "Sire," he said, "this is probably how the affair happened. Guiche was waiting to receive the boar as it rushed toward him."
"On foot or on horseback?" inquired the king.
"On horseback. He fired upon the brute and missed his aim, and then it dashed upon him."
"And the horse was killed?"
"Ah! your majesty knows that, then."
"I have been told that a horse has been found lying dead in the cross-roads of the Bois-Rochin, and I presume it was De Guiche's horse."
"Perfectly true, sire, it was his."
"Well, so much for the horse, now for De Guiche?"
"Guiche, once down, was attacked and worried by the wild boar, and wounded in the hand and in the chest."
"It is a horrible accident, but it must be admitted it was De Guiche's own fault. How could he possibly have gone to hunt such an animal merely armed with pistols; he must have forgotten the fable of Adonis?"
Manicamp rubbed his ear in seeming perplexity. "Very true," he said, "it was very imprudent."
"Can you explain it, Monsieur Manicamp?"
"Sire, what is written is written!"
"Ah! you are a fatalist."
Manicamp looked very uncomfortable and ill at ease. "I am angry with you, Monsieur Manicamp," continued the king.
"With me, sire?"
"Yes. How was it that you, who are De Guiche's intimate friend, and who know that he is subject to such acts of folly, did not stop him in time?"
Manicamp hardly knew what to do; the tone in which the king spoke was not exactly that of a credulous man. On the other hand, the tone did not indicate any particular severity, nor did he seem to care very much about the cross-examination. There was more of raillery in it than of menace. "And you say, then," continued the king, "that it was positively De Guiche's horse that was found dead?"
"Quite positive, sire."
"Did that astonish you?"
"No, sire: for your majesty will remember that, at the last hunt, M. de Saint-Maure had a horse killed under him, and in the same way."
"Yes, but that one was ripped open."
"Of course, sire."
"Had Guiche's horse been ripped open, like M. de Saint-Maure's horse, that would not have astonished me, indeed."
Manicamp opened his eyes very wide. "Am I mistaken," resumed the king, "was it not in the temple that De Guiche's horse was struck? You must admit, Monsieur de Manicamp, that that is a very singular wound."
"You are aware, sire, that the horse is a very intelligent animal, and he endeavored to defend himself."
"But a horse defends himself with his hind feet, and not with his head."
"In that case the terrified horse might have slipped or fallen down," said Manicamp, "and the boar, you understand, sire, the boar—"
"Oh! I understand that perfectly, as far as the horse is concerned; but how about his rider?"
"Well! that, too, is simple enough; the boar left the horse and attacked the rider; and, as I have already had the honor of informing your majesty, shattered De Guiche's hand at the very moment he was about to discharge his second pistol at him, and then, with a blow of his tusk, made that terrible hole in his chest."
"Nothing can possibly be more likely; really, Monsieur de Manicamp, you are wrong in placing so little confidence in your own eloquence, and you can tell a story most admirably."
"Your majesty is exceedingly kind," said Manicamp, saluting him in the most embarrassed manner.
"From this day henceforth, I will prohibit any gentleman attached to my court going to a similar encounter. Really, one might just as well permit dueling."
Manicamp started, and moved as if he were about to withdraw. "Is your majesty satisfied?" he inquired.
"Delighted; but do not withdraw yet, Monsieur de Manicamp," said Louis, "I have something to say to you."
"Well, well!" thought D'Artagnan, "there is another who is not up to our mark;" and he uttered a sigh which might signify, "oh! the men of our stamp, where are they now?"
At this moment an usher lifted up the curtain before the door, and announced the king's physician.
"Ah!" exclaimed Louis, "here comes Monsieur Valot, who has just been to see M. de Guiche. We shall now hear news of the wounded man."
Manicamp felt more uncomfortable than ever. "In this way, at least," added the king, "our conscience will be quite clear." And he looked at D'Artagnan, who did not seem in the slightest degree discomposed.
M. Valot entered. The position of the different persons present was precisely the same: the king was seated, Saint-Aignan still leaning over the back of his armchair, D'Artagnan with his back against the wall, and Manicamp still standing.
"Well, M. Valot," said the king, "have you obeyed my directions?"
"With the greatest alacrity, sire."
"You went to the doctor's house in Fontainebleau?"
"Yes, sire."
"And you found M. de Guiche there?"
"I did, sire."
"What state was he in? Speak unreservedly."
"In a very sad state, indeed, sire."
"The wild boar did not quite devour him, however?"
"Devour whom?"
"Guiche."
"What wild boar?"
"The boar that wounded him."
"M. de Guiche wounded by a boar?"
"So it is said, at least."
"By a poacher, rather, or by a jealous husband, or an ill-used lover, who, in order to be revenged, fired upon him."
"What is that you say, Monsieur Valot? Are not M. de Guiche's wounds produced by defending himself against a wild boar?"
"M. de Guiche's wounds are produced by a pistol-bullet which broke his ring-finger and the little finger of the right hand, and afterward buried itself in the intercostal muscles of the chest."
"A bullet! Are you sure Monsieur de Guiche has been wounded by a bullet?" exclaimed the king, pretending to look much surprised.
"Indeed I am, sire; so sure, in fact, that here it is." And he presented to the king a half-flattened bullet, which the king looked at, but did not touch.
"Did he have that in his chest, poor fellow?" he asked.
"Not precisely. The ball did not penetrate, but was flattened, as you see, either upon the trigger of the pistol or upon the right side of the breast-bone."
"Good heavens!" said the king, seriously, "you said nothing to me about this, Monsieur de Manicamp."
"Sire—"
"What does all this mean, then—this invention about hunting a wild boar at nightfall? Come, speak, monsieur."
"Sire—"
"It seems, then, that you are right," said the king, turning round toward his captain of musketeers, "and that a duel actually took place."
The king possessed, to a greater extentthan any one else, the faculty enjoyed by the great in power or position, of compromising and dividing those beneath him. Manicamp darted a look full of reproaches at the musketeer. D'Artagnan understood the look at once, and, not wishing to remain beneath the weight of such an accusation, advanced a step forward, and said; "Sire, your majesty commanded me to go and explore the place where the cross-roads meet in the Bois-Rochin, and to report to you, according to my own ideas, what had taken place there. I submitted my observations to you, but without denouncing any one. It was your majesty yourself who was the first to name the Comte de Guiche."
"Well, monsieur, well," said the king, haughtily, "you have done your duty, and I am satisfied with you. But you, Monsieur de Manicamp, have failed in yours, for you have told me a falsehood."
"A falsehood, sire. The expression is a hard one."
"Find another instead, then."
"Sire, I will not attempt to do so. I have already been unfortunate enough to displease your majesty, and it will, in every respect, be far better for me to accept most humbly any reproaches you may think proper to address to me."
"You are right, monsieur; whoever conceals the truth from me risks my displeasure."
"Sometimes, sire, one is ignorant of the truth."
"No further falsehood, monsieur, or I double the punishment."
Manicamp bowed and turned pale. D'Artagnan again made another step forward, determined to interfere, if the still increasing anger of the king attained certain limits.
"You see, monsieur," continued the king, "that it is useless to deny the thing any longer. M. de Guiche has fought a duel."
"I do not deny it, sire; and it would have been generous in your majesty not to have forced me to tell a falsehood."
"Forced! Who forced you?"
"Sire, M. de Guiche is my friend: your majesty has forbidden duels under pain of death; a falsehood might save my friend's life, and I told it."
"Good!" murmured D'Artagnan, "an excellent fellow, upon my word!"
"Instead of telling a falsehood, monsieur, you should have prevented him from fighting," said the king.
"Oh, sire, your majesty, who is the most accomplished gentleman in France, knows quite as well any of us other gentlemen that we have never considered M. de Botteville dishonored for having suffered death on the Place de Greve. That which does in truth dishonor a man is to avoid meeting his enemy, and not to avoid meeting his executioner."
"Well, monsieur, that may be so," said Louis XIV.; "I am very desirous of suggesting a means of your repairing all."
"If it be a means of which a gentleman may avail himself, I shall most eagerly do so."
"The name of M. de Guiche's adversary?"
"Oh, oh!" murmured D'Artagnan, "are we going to take Louis XIII. as a model?"
"Sire!" said Manicamp, with an accent of reproach.
"You will not name him, it appears, then?" said the king.
"Sire, I do not know him."
"Bravo!" murmured D'Artagnan.
"Monsieur de Manicamp, hand your sword to the captain."
Manicamp bowed very gracefully, unbuckled his sword, smiling as he did so, and handed it for the musketeer to take. But Saint-Aignan advanced hurriedly between him and D'Artagnan. "Sire," he said, "will your majesty permit me to say a word?"
"Do so," said the king, delighted perhaps at the bottom of his heart for some one to step between him and the wrath which he felt had carried him too far.
"Manicamp, you are a brave man, and the king will appreciate your conduct; but to wish to serve your friends too well is to destroy them. Manicamp, you know the name the king asks you for?"
"It is perfectly true—I do know it."
"You will give it up then?"
"If I felt I ought to have mentioned it, I should have already done so."
"Then I will tell it, for I am not so extremely sensitive on such points of honor as you are."
"You are at liberty to do so, but it seems to me, however—"
"Oh! a truce to magnanimity; I will not permit you to go to the Bastille in that way. Do you speak; or I will."
Manicamp was keen-witted enough, and perfectly understood that he had done quite sufficient to produce a good opinion of his conduct: it was now only a question of persevering in such a manner as to regain the good graces of the king. "Speak, monsieur," he said to Saint-Aignan: "I have on my own behalf done all that my conscience told me to do, and it must have been very importunate," he added, turning toward the king, "since its mandates led me to disobey your majesty's commands; but your majesty will forgive me, I hope, when you learn that I was anxious to preserve the honor of a lady."
"Of a lady?" said the king, with some uneasiness.
"Yes, sire."
"A lady was the cause of this duel?"
Manicamp bowed.
"If the position of the lady in question warrants it," he said, "I shall not complain of your having acted with so much circumspection; on the contrary, indeed."
"Sire, everything which concerns your majesty's household, or the household of your majesty's brother, is of importance in my eyes."
"In my brother's household," repeated Louis XIV., with a slight hesitation. "The cause of the duel was a lady belonging to my brother's household, do you say?"
"Or to Madame's."
"Ah! to Madame's?"
"Yes, sire."
"Well—and this lady?"
"Is one of the maids of honor of her royal highness, Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans."
"For whom M. de Guiche fought—do you say?"
"Yes, sire, and, this time, I tell no falsehood."
Louis seemed restless and anxious. "Gentlemen," he said, turning toward the spectators of this scene, "will you have the goodness to retire for a moment? I wish to be alone with M. de Manicamp, I know he has some very important communications to make for his own justification, and which he will not venture to do before witnesses.... Put up your sword, Monsieur de Manicamp."
Manicamp returned his sword to his belt.
"The fellow decidedly has his wits about him," murmured the musketeer, taking Saint-Aignan by the arm, and withdrawing with him.
"He will get out of it," said the latter in D'Artagnan's ear.
"And with honor, too, comte."
Manicamp cast a glance of recognition at Saint-Aignan and the captain, which passed unnoticed by the king.
"Come, come," said D'Artagnan, as he left the room, "I had an indifferent opinion of the new generation. Well, I was mistaken after all, and there is some good in them, I perceive."
Valot preceded the favorite and the captain, leaving the king and Manicamp alone in the cabinet.
The king, determined to be satisfied that no one was listening, went himself to the door, and then returned precipitately and placed himself opposite to Manicamp. "And now we are alone, Monsieur de Manicamp, explain yourself?"
"With the greatest frankness, sire," replied the young man.
"And, in the first place, pray understand," added the king, "that there is nothing to which I personally attach a greater importance than the honor of any lady."
"That is the very reason, sire, why I endeavored to study your delicacy of sentiment and feeling."
"Yes, I understand it all now. You say that it was one of the maids of honor of my sister-in-law who was the subject of dispute, and that the person in question, Guiche's adversary, the man, in point of fact, whom you will not name—"
"But whom M. de Saint-Aignan will name, monsieur."
"Yes; you say, however, that this man has insulted some one belonging to the household of Madame."
"Yes, sire, Mademoiselle de la Valliere."
"Ah!" said the king, as if he had expected the name, and yet as if its announcement had caused him a sudden pang; "ah! it was Mademoiselle de la Valliere who was insulted."
"I do not say precisely that she was insulted, sire."
"But at all events—"
"I merely say that she was spoken of in terms far from respectful."
"A man dares to speak in disrespectful terms of Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and yet you refuse to tell me the name of the insulter."
"Sire, I thought it was quite understood that your majesty had abandoned the idea of making me denounce him."
"Perfectly true, monsieur," returned the king, controlling his anger: "besides, I shall always know in sufficient time the name of the man whom I shall feel it my duty to punish."
Manicamp perceived that they had returned to the question again. As for the king, he saw he had allowed himself to be hurried away a little too far, and he therefore continued: "And I will punish him—not because there is any question of Mademoiselle de La Valliere, although I esteem her very highly—but because a lady was the object of the quarrel. And I intend that ladies shall be respected at my court, and that quarrels shall be put a stop to altogether."
Manicamp bowed.
"And now, Monsieur de Manicamp," continued the king, "what was said about Mademoiselle de la Valliere?"
"Cannot your majesty guess?"
"I?"
"Your majesty can imagine the character of the jests in which young men permit themselves to indulge."
"They very probably said that she was in love with some one?" the king ventured to remark.
"Probably so."
"But Mademoiselle de la Valliere has a perfect right to love any one she pleases," said the king.
"That is the very point De Guiche maintained."
"And on account of which he fought, do you mean?"
"Yes, sire, the very sole cause."
The king colored. "And you do not know anything more, then?"
"In what respect, sire?"
"In the very interesting respect which you are now referring to."
"What does your majesty wish to know?"
"Why, the name of the man with whom La Valliere is in love, and whom De Guiche's adversary disputed her right to love."
"Sire, I know nothing—I have heard nothing—and have learned nothing, even accidentally; but De Guiche is a noble-hearted fellow, and if, momentarily, he substituted himself in the place or stead of La Valliere's protector, it was because that protector was himself of too exalted a position to undertake her defense."
These words were more than transparent; they made the king blush, but this time with pleasure. He struck Manicamp gently on the shoulder.
"Well, well, Monsieur de Manicamp, you are not only a ready, witty fellow, but a brave gentleman besides, and your friend De Guiche is a paladin quite after my own heart; you will express that to him from me."
"Your majesty forgives me, then?"
"Completely."
"And I am free?"
The king smiled and held out his hand to Manicamp, which he took and kissed respectfully. "And then," added the king, "you relate stories so charmingly."
"I, sire!"
"You told me in the most admirable manner the particulars of the accident which happened to Guiche. I can see the wild boar rushing out of the wood—I can see the horse fall down, and the boar rush from the horse to the rider. You do not simply relate a story well, but you positively paint its incidents."
"Sire, I think your majesty deigns to laugh at my expense."
"On the contrary," said Louis, seriously, "I have so little intention of laughing, Monsieur de Manicamp, that I wish you to relate this adventure to every one."
"The adventure of the hunt?"
"Yes; in the same manner you told it to me, without changing a single word—you understand."
"Perfectly, sire."
"And you will relate it, then?"
"Without losing a minute."
"Very well! and now summon M. d'Artagnan: I hope you are no longer afraid of him."
"Oh! sire, from the very moment I am sure of your majesty's kind dispositions, I no longer fear anything!"
"Call him, then," said the king.
Manicamp opened the door, and said, "Gentlemen, the king wishes you to return." D'Artagnan, Saint-Aignan and Valot entered.
"Gentlemen," said the king, "I summoned you for the purpose of saying that Monsieur de Manicamp's explanation has entirely satisfied me."
D'Artagnan glanced at Valot and Saint-Aignan, as much as to say, "Well! did I not tell you so?"
The king led Manicamp to the door, and then in a low tone of voice, said, "See that M. de Guiche takes good care of himself, and, particularly that he recovers as soon as possible; I am very desirous of thanking him in the name of every lady, but let him take special care that he does not begin again."
"Were he to die a hundred times, sire,he would begin again if your majesty's honor were in any way called in question."
This remark was direct enough. But we have already said that the incense of flattery was very pleasing to the king, and, provided he received it, he was not very particular as to its quality.
"Very well, very well," he said, as he dismissed Manicamp, "I will see De Guiche myself, and make him listen to reason." And as Manicamp left the apartment, the king turned round toward the three spectators of this scene, and said, "Tell me, Monsieur d'Artagnan, how does it happen that your sight is so imperfect?—you, whose eyes are generally so very good."
"My sight bad, sire?"
"Certainly."
"It must be the case, since your majesty says so; but in what respect, may I ask?"
"Why, with regard to what occurred in the Bois-Rochin."
"Ah! ah!"
"Certainly. You pretend to have seen the tracks of two horses, to have detected the foot-prints of two men; and have described the particulars of an engagement, which you assert took place. Nothing of the sort occurred; pure illusion on your part."
"Ah! ah!" said D'Artagnan.
"Exactly the same thing with the galloping to and fro of the horses, and the other indications of a struggle. It was the struggle of De Guiche against the wild boar, and absolutely nothing else; only the struggle was a long and a terrible one, it seems."
"Ah! ah!" continued D'Artagnan.
"And when I think that I almost believed it for a moment; but, then, you speak with such confidence."
"I admit, sire, that I must have been very short-sighted," said D'Artagnan, with a readiness of humor which delighted the king.
"You do admit, then?"
"Admit it, sire, most assuredly I do."
"So that now you see the thing—"
"In quite a different light to what I saw it half an hour ago."
"And to what, then, do you attribute this difference in your opinion?"
"Oh! a very simple thing, sire; half an hour ago I returned from the Bois-Rochin, where I had nothing to light me but a stupid stable lantern—"
"While now?"
"While now, I have all the wax-lights of your cabinet, and more than that, your majesty's own eyes, which illuminate everything, like the blazing sun at noon-day."
The king began to laugh, and Saint-Aignan broke out into convulsions of merriment.
"It is precisely like M. Valot," said D'Artagnan, resuming the conversation where the king had left off; "he has been imagining all along, that, not only was M. de Guiche wounded by a bullet, but still more, that he extracted it even from his chest."
"Upon my word," said Valot, "I assure you—"
"Now, did you not believe that?" continued D'Artagnan.
"Yes," said Valot, "not only did I believe it, but at this very moment I would swear it."
"Well, my dear doctor, you have dreamed it."
"I have dreamed it!"
"M. de Guiche's wound—a mere dream; the bullet a dream. So take my advice, and say no more about it."
"Well said," returned the king; "M. d'Artagnan's advice is very good. Do not speak of your dream to any one, M. Valot, and upon the word of a gentleman, you will have no occasion to repent it. Good evening, gentlemen; a very sad affair indeed is a wild-boar hunt!"
"A very serious thing indeed," repeated D'Artagnan, in a loud voice, "is a wild-boar hunt!" and he repeated it in every room through which he passed, and left the chateau, taking Valot with him.