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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/vicomtedebrageloOOduma 
 
VlCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE 
 
 BEING THE CONTINUATION OP 
 
 *f?he Three Guardsmen * and "Twenty Years After.* 
 
 KNOWN AS 
 
 THE D'ARTAGNAN ROMANCES, 
 
 By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
 iv. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 
 

 
 V 
 
 
Library. Univ. of 
 
 VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 Toward the middle of the month of May, in the year 
 1660, at nine o'clock in the morning, when the sun, already 
 high in the heavens, was last absorbing the dew from the 
 ravenelles of the castle of Blois, a little cavalcade, corn- 
 posed of three men and two pages, re-entered the city by 
 the bridge, without producing any other effect upon the 
 passengers of the quay beyond a first movement of the hand 
 to the head, as a salute, and a second movement of the 
 tongue to express, in the purest French then spoken in 
 France: "There is Monsieur returning from hunting." 
 And that was all. 
 
 While, however, the horses were climbing the steep 
 acclivity v\hich leads from the river to the castle, several 
 shop-boys approached the last horse, from whose saddle-bow 
 a number of birds were suspended by the. beak. 
 
 At seeing this, the inquisitive youths manifested with 
 rustic freedom their contempt for such paltry sport, and, 
 after a dissertation among themselves upon the disadvan- 
 tages of hawking, they returned to their occupations. One 
 
 | only of the curious party, a stout, chubby, cheerful lad, 
 having demanded how it was that Monsieur, who, from his 
 great revenues, had it in his power to amuse himself so 
 
 _ much better, could be satisfied with such mean diversions. 
 "Do you not know,** one of the standers-by replied, 
 "that Monsieur's principal amusement is to weary himself?"' 
 The light-hearted boy shrugged his shoulders with a ges- 
 ture which said as clear as day: "In that case I would rather 
 
 . be plain Jack than a prince." And all resumed then- 
 labors. 
 
 In the meantime, Mousieur continued his route with an 
 
2 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 air at once so melancholy and so majestic, that he certainly 
 would have attracted the attention of spectators, if specta- 
 tors there had been; but the good citizens of Blois could 
 not pardon Monsieur for having chosen their gay city for 
 an abode in which to indulge melancholy at his ease, and 
 as often as they caught a glimpse of the illustrious ennuye, 
 they stole away gaping, or drew back their heads into the 
 interior of their dwellings, to escape the soporific influence 
 of that long, pale face, of those watery eyes, and that 
 languid address; so that the worthy prince was almost cer- 
 tain to find the streets deserted whenever he chanced to 
 pass through them. 
 
 '"jSow, on the part of the citizens of Blois this was a 
 culpable piece of disrespect, for Monsieur was, after the 
 king — nay. even, perhaps, before the king — the greatest 
 noble of the kingdom. In fact, God, who had granted to 
 Louis XIV., then reigning, the honor of being son of Louis 
 XIII., had granted to Monsieur the honor of being son of 
 Henry IV. It was not then, or, at least, it ought not to 
 have been, a trifling source of pride for the city of Blois, 
 that Gaston of Orleans had chosen it as his residence, and 
 held his court in the ancient castle of its states. 
 
 But it was the destiny of this great prince to excite the 
 attention and admiration of the public in a very modified 
 degree wherever he might be. Monsieur had fallen into 
 this situation by habit. 
 
 It was not, perhaps, this which gave him that air of list- 
 lessness. Monsieur had been tolerably busy in the course 
 of his life. A man cannot allow the heads of a dozen of 
 his best friends to be cut off without feeling a little excite- 
 ment; and as since the accession of Mazarin to power no 
 heads had been cut off, Monsieur's occupation was gone, 
 and his morale suffered from it. 
 
 The life of the poor prince was then very dull. After 
 his little morning hawking-party on the banks of the 
 Beuvion, or in the woods of Chiverny, Monsieur crossed 
 the Loire, went to breakfast at Chambord, with or without 
 an appetite, and the city of Blois heard no more of its 
 sovereign lord and master till the next hawking-day. 
 
 So much for the ennui extra muros; of the ennui of the 
 interior we will give the reader an idea if he will with ue 
 follow the cavalcade to the majestic porch of the Castle of 
 the States. 
 
 Monsieur rode a little steady-paced horse, equipped with 
 a large saddle of red Flemish velvet, with stirrups in the 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRaGELONNE. 3 
 
 shape of buskins; the horse was of a bay color; Monsieur's 
 pourpoint of crimson velvet corresponded with the cloak of 
 the same shade and the horse's equipment, and it was only 
 by this red appearance of the whole that the prince could 
 be known from his two companions, the one dressed in 
 violet the other in green. He on the left, in violet, was his 
 equerry; he on the right, in green, was the grand veneur. 
 
 One of the pages carried two gerfalcons upon a perch, 
 the other a hunting-horn, which he blew with a careless 
 note at twenty paces from the castle. Every one about 
 this listless prince did what he had to do listlessly. 
 
 At this signal eight guards, who were lounging in the 
 sun in the square court, ran to their halberts, and Monsieur 
 made his solemn entry into the castle. 
 
 When he had disappeared under the shades of the porch, 
 three or four idlers, who had followed the cavalcade to the 
 castle, after pointing out the suspended birds to one an- 
 other, dispersed with comments upon what they saw; and 
 when they were gone, the street, the place, and the court, 
 all remained deserted alike. 
 
 Monsieur dismounted without speaking a word, went 
 straight to his apartments, where his valet changed his 
 dress, and as madame had not yet sent orders respecting 
 breakfast, Monsieur stretched himself upon a chaise-longue, 
 and was soon as fast asleep as if it had been eleven o'clock 
 at night. 
 
 The eight guards, who concluded their service for the 
 day was over, laid themselves down very comfortably in the 
 sun upon some stone benches; the grooms disappeared with 
 their horses into the stables, and, with the exception of a 
 few joyous birds, startling one another with their sharp 
 chirping in the tufts of gillyflowers, it might have been 
 thought that the whole castle was as soundly asleep as 
 Monsieur was. 
 
 All at once, in the midst of this delicious silence, there 
 resounded a clear, ringing laugh, which caused several of 
 the halberdiers in the enjoyment of their siesta to open at 
 least one eye. 
 
 This burst of laughter proceeded from a window of the 
 castle, visited at this moment by the sun, which united it 
 in one of those large angles which the profiles of the chim- 
 neys marked out upon the walls before midday. 
 
 The little balcony of wrought iron which advanced in 
 front of this window was furnished with a pot of red gilly- 
 flowers, another pot of primroses, and an early rose-tree, 
 
4 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 the foliage of which, beautifully green, was variegated with 
 numerous red specks announcing future roses. 
 
 In the chamber, lighted by this window, was a square 
 table, covered with an old, large-flowered Harlem tapestry; 
 in the center of this table was a long-necked stone bottle, 
 in which were irises and lilies of the valley; at each end of 
 this table was a young girl. 
 
 The position of these two young people Avas singular; 
 they might have been taken for two boarders escaped from 
 a convent. One of them, with both elbows on the table s 
 and a pen in her hand, was tracing characters upon a sheet 
 of fine Dutch paper; the other, kneeling upon a chair, 
 which allowed her to advance her head and bust over the 
 back of it to the middle of the table, was watching her com- 
 panion as she wrote, or rather hesitated to write. 
 
 Thence the thousand cries, the thousand railleries, the 
 thousand laughs, one of which, more brilliant than the 
 rest, had startled the birds of the ravenelles, and disturbed 
 the slumbers of Monsieur's guards. • 
 
 We are taking portraits now; we shall be allowed, there- 
 fore, we hope, to sketch the two last of this chapter. 
 
 The one who was leaning in the chair — that is to say, the 
 joyous, the laughing one — was a beautiful girl of from 
 eighteen to twenty, with brown complexion and brown hair, 
 splendid, from eyes which sparkled beneath strongly marked 
 brows, and particularly from her teeth, which seemed to 
 shine like pearls between her red coral lips. Her every 
 movement seemed the result of a springing mine; she did 
 not live — she bounded. 
 
 The other, she who was writing, looked at her turbulent 
 companion with an eye as limpid, as pure, and as blue as 
 the heaven of that day. Her hair, of a shaded fairness, 
 arranged with exquisite taste, fell in silky curls over her 
 lovely mantling cheeks; she passed across the paper a deli- 
 cate hand, whose thinness announced her extreme youth. 
 At each burst of laughter that proceeded from her friend, 
 she raised, as if annoyed, her white shoulders in a poetical 
 and mild manner, but they were wanting in that rich full- 
 ness of mold which was likewise to be wished in her arm.-; 
 and hands. 
 
 "Montalais! Montalais!" said she at length, in a voice 
 soft and caressing as a melody, "you laugh too loud — you 
 laugh like a man. You will not only draw the attention of 
 messieurs the guards, but you will not hear madame's bell 
 when niadame rings." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 5 
 
 This admonition neither made the young girl called Mon- 
 talais cease to laugh nor gesticulate. She only replied: 
 "Louise, you do not speak as you think, my dear; you 
 know that messieurs the guards, as you call them, have only 
 just commenced their sleep, and that a cannon would not 
 waken them; you know that madame's hell can be heard at 
 the bridge of Blois, and that consequently I shall hear it 
 when my services are required by madame. What annoys 
 you, my child, is that I laugh while you are writing; and 
 what you are alraid of is that Madame de St. Remy, your 
 : mother, should come up here, as she does sometimes when 
 we laugh too loud, that she should surprise us, and that she 
 should see that enormous sheet of paper upon which, rn a 
 quarter of an hour, you have only traced the words Moti- 
 sieur Raoul. Now, you are right, my dear Louise, because 
 after these words, 'Monsieur Raoul,' others may be put so 
 significant and so incendiary as to cause Madame de St. 
 Remy to burst out into fire and flames! Hein! is not that 
 true now? — say." 
 
 And Montalais redoubled her laughter and noisy provo- 
 cations. 
 
 The fair girl at length became quite angry; she tore the 
 sheet of paper on which, in fact, the words "Monsieur 
 Raoul" were written in good characters; and, crushing the 
 paper in her trembling hands, she threw it out of the 
 window. 
 
 "There! there!" said Mile, de Montalais; "there is our 
 little lamb, our gentle dove angry! Don't be afraid, Louise 
 — Madame de St. Remy will not come; and if she should, 
 you know I have a quick ear. Besides, what can be more 
 permissible than to write to an old friend of twelve years' 
 standing, particularly when the letter begins with the words 
 'Monsieur Raoul?' " 
 
 "It is all very well — I will not write to him at all," said 
 the young girl. 
 
 "Ah, ah! in good sooth, Montalais is properly punished," 
 cried the jeering brunette, still laughing. "Come, cornel 
 let us try another sheet of paper, and finish our dispatch 
 off-hand. Good! there is the bell ringing now. By my 
 faith, so much the worse! Madame must wait, or else do 
 without her first maid of honor this morning." 
 
 A bell, in fact, did ring; it announced that madame had 
 finished her toilet, and waited for Monsieur to give her his 
 hand, and conduct her from the salon to the refectory. 
 
 This formality being accomplished with great ceremony, 
 
6 THE YICOMTE BE BRAGELOSTNE. 
 
 the husband and wife breakfasted, and then separated till 
 the hour of dinner, invariably fixed at two o'clock. 
 
 The sound of this bell caused a door to be opened in the 
 offices on the left hand of the court, from which filed two 
 maitres d' hotel, followed by eight scullions bearing a kind 
 of hand-barrow loaded with dishes under silver covers. 
 
 One of the maitres d' hotel, the first in rank, touched one 
 of the guards, who was snoring on his bench, slightly with 
 his wand; he even carried his kindness so far as to place 
 the halbert which stood against the wall in the hands of the 
 man, stupid with sleep, after which the soldier, without 
 explanation, escorted the viande of Monsieur to the refec- 
 tory, preceded by a page and the two maitres d' hotel. 
 
 Wherever the viande passed, the soldiers ported arms. 
 
 Mile, de Montalais and her companion had watched from 
 their window the details of this ceremony, to which, by the 
 bye, they must have been pretty well accustomed. But 
 they did not look so much from curiosity as to be assured 
 they should not be disturbed. So guards, scullions, maitres 
 d' hotel, and pages having passed, they resumed their places 
 at the table; and the sun, which, through the window- 
 frame, had for an instant fallen upon those two charming 
 countenances, now only shed its light upon the gillyflowers, 
 primroses, and rose-tree. 
 
 "Bah!" said Mile, de Montalais, taking her place again; 
 "madame will breakfast very well without me!" 
 
 "Oh, Montalais, you will be punished!" replied the other 
 girl, sitting down quietly in hers. 
 
 "Punished, indeed! — that is to say, deprived of a ride! 
 That is just the way in which I wish to be punished. To 
 go out in the grand coach, perched upon a doorstep; to 
 turn to the left, twist round to the right, over roads full 
 of ruts, where we cannot exceed a league in two hours; and 
 then to come back straight toward the wing of the castle in 
 which is the window of Mary de Medici, so that madame 
 never fails to say: 'Could one believe it possible that Mary 
 de Medici should have escaped from that window — forty- 
 seven feet high? The mother of two princes and three 
 princesses!' If you call that relaxation, Louise, all I ask 
 is to be punished every day; particularly when my punish- 
 ment is to remain with you and write such intere&ting let- 
 ters as we write!" 
 
 "Montalais! Montalais! there are duties to be performed." 
 
 "You talk of them very much at your ease, my little 
 heart! — you, who are left Quite free amid this tedious 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 7 
 
 court, You are the only person that reaps the advantages 
 of them without incurring the trouble — you, who are really 
 more one of madame's maids of honor than I am, because 
 madame makes her affection for your father-in-law glance 
 off upon you; so that you enter this dull house as the birds 
 fly into yonder court, inhaling the air, pecking the flowers, 
 picking up the grain, without having the least service to 
 perform, or the least annoyance to undergo. And you talk 
 to me of duties to be performed! In sooth, my pretty idler, 
 what are your own proper duties, unless to write to hand- 
 some Raoul? And even that you don't do; so that it looks 
 to me as if you likewise were rather negligent of your 
 duties." 
 
 Louise assumed a serious air, leaned her chin upon her 
 hand, and, in a tone full of candid remonstrance, "And do 
 you reproach me with my good fortune?" said she. "Can 
 you have the heart to do it? Ypu have a future; you be- 
 long to the court; the king, if he should marry, will require 
 Monsieur to be near his person; you will see splendid fetes; 
 you will see the king, who they say is so handsome, so 
 agreeable!" 
 
 "Ay, and still more, I shall see Raoul, who attends upon 
 Monsieur le Prince," added Montalais maliciously. 
 
 "Poor Raoul!" sighed Louise. 
 
 "Now is the time to write to him, my pretty dear! 
 Come, begin again, with that famous 'Monsieur Raoul' 
 which figures at the top of the poor torn sheet." 
 
 She then held the pen toward her, and with a charming 
 smile encouraged her hand, which quickly traced the words 
 she named. 
 
 "What next?" asked the younger of the two girls. 
 
 "Why, now write what you think, Louise," replied 
 Montalais. 
 
 "Are you quite sure I think of anything?" 
 
 "You think of somebody, and that amounts to the same 
 thing, or rather even worse." 
 
 "Do you think so, Montalais?" 
 
 "Louise! Louise! your blue eyes are as deep as the sea I 
 saw at Boulogne last year! No, no, I mistake — the sea is 
 perfidious; your eyes are as deep as the azure yonder — lock 
 — over, our heads!" 
 
 "Well, since you can read so well in my eyes, tell me 
 what I am thinking about, Montalais." 
 
 "In the first place, you don't think, Monsieur Raoul; you 
 think, My dear Raoul." 
 
8 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONXE. 
 
 "Oh " 
 
 "Never blush for such a trifle as that! 'My dear Raoul,' 
 we will say, 'You implore me to write to you at Paris, where 
 you are detained by your attendance on Monsieur le Prince. 
 As you must be very dull there, to seek for amusement in 
 the remembrance of a provinciate ' " 
 
 Louise rose up suddenly. "No, Montalais," said she, 
 with a smile; "I don't think a word of that. Look, this is 
 what I think;" and she seized the pen boldly, and traced, 
 with a firm hand, the following words: 
 
 "I should have been very unhappy if your entreaties to 
 obtain a remembrance of me had been less warm. Every- 
 thing here reminds me of our early days, which so quickly 
 passed away, which so delightfully flew by, that no others 
 will ever replace the charm of them in my heart." 
 
 Montalais, who watched the flying pen, and read, the 
 wrong way upward, as fast as her friend wrote, here inter- 
 rupted by clapping her hands. "Capital!" cried she; 
 "there is frankness — there is heart — there is style! Show 
 these Parisians, my dear, that Blois is the city for fine 
 language!" 
 
 "He knows very well that Blois was a paradise to me," 
 replied the girl. 
 
 "That is exactly what you mean to say; and you speak 
 like an angel." 
 
 "I will finish, Montalais;" and she continued as follows: 
 "You often think of me, you say, Monsieur Raoul; I 
 thank you; but that does not surprise me, when I recollect 
 how often our hearts have beaten close to each other." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said Montalais. "Beware, my lamb! You 
 are scattering your wool, and there are wolves about." 
 
 Louise was about to reply, when the gallop of a horse 
 resounded under the porch of the castle. 
 
 "What is that?" said Montalais, approaching the window 
 "A handsome cavalier, by my faith!" 
 
 "Oh! Raoul!" exclaimed Louise, who had made the same 
 movement as her friend, and, becoming pale as death, sunk 
 back beside her unfinished letter. 
 
 "Now, he is a clever lover, upon my word!" cried Mon- 
 talais; "he arrives just at the proper moment." 
 
 "Come in, come in, I implore you!" murmured Louise. 
 
 "Bah! he does not know me. Let me see what he haa 
 come here for," 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MESSENGER. 
 
 Mlle. de Montalais was right; the young cavalier was 
 goodly to look upon. 
 
 He was a young man of from twenty-four to twenty-five 
 years of age, tall and slender, wearing gracefully the pic- 
 turesque military costume of the period. His large boots 
 contained a foot which Mile, de Montalais might not have 
 disowned if she had been transformed into a man. With 
 one of his delicate but nervous hands he checked his horse 
 in the middle of the court, and with the other raised his 
 hat, whose long plumes shaded his at once serious and in- 
 genuous countenance. 
 
 The guards, roused by the steps of the horse, awoke, and 
 were on foot in a minute. The young man waited till one 
 of them was close to bis saddle-bow; then, stooping toward 
 him, in a clear, distinct voice, which was perfectly audible 
 at the window where the two girls were concealed, "A 
 message for his royal highness," he said. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" cried the soldier. "Officer, a messenger!" 
 
 But this brave guard knew very well that no officer would 
 appear, seeing that the only one who could have appeared 
 dwelt at the other side of the castle, in an apartment look- 
 ing into the gardens. So he hastened to add: "The officer, 
 monsieur, is on his rounds; but, in his absence. Monsieur 
 de St. Remy, the maitre d' hotel, shall be informed." 
 
 "Monsieur de St. Remy?" repeated the cavalier, slightly 
 blushing. 
 
 "Do you know him?" 
 
 "Why, yes; but request him, if you please, that my visit 
 be announced to his royal highness as soon as possible." 
 
 "It appears to be pressing," said the guard, as if speaking 
 to himself, but really in the hope of obtaining an answer. 
 
 The messenger made an affirmative sign with his head. 
 
 "In that case," said the guard, "I will go and seek the 
 maitre cV hotel myself." 
 
 The young man, in the meantime, dismounted; and while 
 the others were making their remarks upon the fine horse 
 the cavalier rode, the soldier returned. 
 
 "Your pardon, young gentleman; but your name, if you 
 please 5 " 
 
 "The Vicomte de Bragelonne, on the part of his highness 
 Monsieur le Prince de Conde." 
 
10 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 The soldier made a profound bow, and, as if the name of 
 the conqueror of Rocroy and Sens had given him wings, he 
 stepped lightly up the steps leading to the antechamber. 
 
 M. de Bragelonne had not had time to fasten his horse to 
 the iron bars of the perron, when M. de St. Remy came 
 running, out of breath, supporting his capacious stomach 
 with one hand, while with the other he cut the air as a 
 fisherman cleaves the waves with his oar. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte! You at Blois!" cried he. 
 "Well, that is a wonder. Good-day to you — good-day, 
 Monsieur Raoul." 
 
 "I offer you a thousand respects, Monsieur de St. Remy." 
 
 "How Madame de la Vail — I mean, how delighted Ma- 
 dame de St. Remy will be to see you! But come in. His 
 royal highness is at breakfast — must he be interrupted? Is 
 the matter serious?" 
 
 "Yes, and no, Monsieur de St. Remy. A moment's 
 delay, however, would be disagreeable to his royal high- 
 ness." 
 
 "If that is the case, we will force the consigne, Monsieur 
 le Vicomte. Come in. Besides. Monsieur is in au excel- 
 lent humor to-day. And then you bring news, do you 
 not?" 
 
 "Great news, Monsieur de St. Remy." 
 
 "And good, I presume?" 
 
 "Excellent." 
 
 "Come quickly, come quickly, then!" cried the worthy 
 man, putting his dress to rights as he went along. 
 
 Raoul followed him, hat in hand, and a little disconcerted 
 at the noise made by his spurs in these immense salons. 
 
 As soon as he had disappeared in the interior of the 
 palace, the window of the court was repeopled, and an 
 animated whispering betrayed the emotion of the two girls. 
 They soon appeared to have formed a resolution, for one of 
 the two faces disappeared from the window. This was the 
 brunette; the other remained behind the balcony, concealed 
 by the flowers, watching attentively through the branches 
 the perron by which M. de Bragelonne had entered the 
 castle. 
 
 In the meantime, the object of so much laudable curiosity 
 continued his route, following the steps of the maitre 
 d'hotel. The noise of quick steps, an odor of wine and 
 viands, a clinking of crystal and plates, warned them that 
 they were coming to the end of their course. 
 
 The pages, valets, and officers, assembled in the office 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 11 
 
 which preceded the refectory, welcomed the newcomer with 
 the proverbial politeness of the country; some of them were 
 acquainted with Kaoul, and all knew that he came from 
 Paris. It might be said that his arrival for a moment sus- 
 pended the service. In fact, a page, who was pouring out 
 wine for his royal highness, on hearing the jingling of spurs 
 in the next chamber, turned round like a child, without 
 perceiving that he was continuing to pour out, not into the 
 glass, but upon the tablecloth. 
 
 Madame, who was not so preoccupied as her glorious 
 spouse was, remarked this distraction of the page. 
 
 "■Well?" exclaimed she. 
 
 "Well!" repeated Monsieur; "what is going on then?" 
 
 M. de St. Eemy, who had just introduced his head 
 through the doorway, took advantage of the moment. 
 
 "Why am I to be disturbed?" said Gaston, helping him- 
 self to a thick slice of one of the largest salmon that had 
 ever ascended the Loire to be captured between Painbceuf 
 and St. Nazaire. 
 
 "There is a messenger from Paris. Oh! but after mon- 
 seigneur has breakfasted will do; there is plenty of time." 
 
 "From Paris!" cried the prince, letting his fork fall. 
 "A messenger from Paris, do you say? And on whose part 
 does this messenger come?" 
 
 "On the part of Monsieur le Prince," said the maitre 
 (V hot el promptly. 
 
 Every one knows that the Prince de Conde was so called. 
 
 "A messenger from Monsieur le Prince!" said Gaston, 
 with an inquietude that escaped none of the assistants, and 
 consequently redoubled the general curiosity. 
 
 Monsieur, perhaps, fancied himself brought back again 
 to the happy times when the opening of a door gave him an 
 emotion, in which every letter might contain a state secret 
 — in which every message was connected with a dark and 
 complicated intrigue. Perhaps, likewise, the great name 
 of M. le Prince expanded itself, beneath the roofs of Blois, 
 into proportions of a phantom. 
 
 Monsieur pushed away his plate. 
 
 "Shall I tell the envoy to wait?" said M. de St. Kemy. 
 
 A glance from madame emboldened Gaston, who replied: 
 "No, no; let him come in at once, on the contrary. 
 Apropos, who is he?" 
 
 "A gentleman of this country, Monsieur le Vicomte de 
 Bragelonne." 
 
 "Ah, very well! Introduce him, St. Kemy— introduce 
 him.*' 
 
13 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOIOTE. 
 
 And when he had let fall these words, with his accustomed 
 gravity, Monsieur turned his eyes, in a certain manner, 
 upon the people of his suite, so that all, pages, officers, and 
 equerries, quitted the service, knives and goblets, and 
 made toward the second chamber a retreat as rapid as it 
 was disorderly. 
 
 This little army had dispersed in two files when Raoul 
 de Bragelonne, preceded by M. de St. Eemy, entered the 
 refectory. 
 
 The short moment of solitude in which this retreat had 
 left him permitted Monsieur the time to assume a diplo- 
 matic countenance. He did not turn round, but waited till 
 the maitre d'hotel should bring the messenger face to face 
 with him. 
 
 Kaoul stopped even with the lower end of the table, so 
 as to be exactly between Monsieur and madame. From 
 this place he made a profound bow to Monsieur, and a very 
 humble one to madame; then, drawing himself up into 
 military pose, he waited for Monsieur to address him. 
 
 On his part the prince waited till the doors were hermetic- 
 ally closed; he would not turn round to ascertain the fact, 
 as that would have been derogatory to his dignity, but he 
 listened with all his ears for the noise of the lock, which 
 would promise him at least an appearance of secrecy. 
 
 The doors being closed, Monsieur raised his eyes toward 
 the vicomte, and said, "It appears that you come from 
 Paris, monsieur?" 
 
 "This minute, monseigneur." 
 
 "How is the king?" 
 
 "His majesty is in perfect health, monseigneur." 
 
 "And my sister-in-law?" 
 
 "Her majesty, the queen-mother, still suffers from the 
 3omplaint in ner lungs, but for the last month she has been 
 rather better." 
 
 "Somebody told me you came on the part of Monsieur le 
 Prince. They must have been mistaken, surely?" 
 
 "No, monseigneur; Monsieur le Prince has charged me 
 to convey this letter to your royal highness, and I am to 
 wait for an answer to it." 
 
 Kaoul had been a little annoyed by this cold and cautious 
 reception, and his voice insensibly sunk to a low key. 
 
 The prince forgot that he was the cause of this apparent 
 mystery, and his fears returned. 
 
 He received the letter from the Prince de Conde with a 
 haggard look, unsealed it as he would have unsealed a sus- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 13 
 
 picious packet, and in order to read it so that no one should 
 remark its effect upon his countenance, he turned round. 
 
 Madame followed, with an anxiety almost equal to that of 
 the prince, every maneuver of her august husband. 
 
 Kaoul, impassible, and a little disengaged by the atten- 
 tion of his hosts, looked from his place through the open 
 window at the gardens and the statues which peopled them. 
 
 "Well V cried Monsieur, all at once, with a cheerful smile ; 
 ''here is an agreeable surprise, and a charming letter from 
 Monsieur le Prince. Look, madame !" 
 
 The table was too large to allow the arm of the prince to 
 reach the hand of madame ; Eaoul sprung forward to be their ' 
 intermediary, and did it with so good a grace as to procure 
 a flattering acknowledgment from the princess. 
 
 "You know the contents of this letter, no doubt?" said 
 Gaston to Eaoul. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur; Monsieur le Prince gave me the mes- 
 sage verbally, but upon reflection his highness took up his pen." 
 
 "It is beautiful writing," said madame, "but I cannot read 
 it." 
 
 "Will you read it to madame, Monsieur de Bragelonne?" 
 said the duke. 
 , "Yes; read it, if you please, monsieur." 
 
 Eaoul began to read, Monsieur giving again all his atten- 
 tion. The letter was conceived in these terms: 
 
 "Monseigneur: The king is about to set out for the 
 frontiers. You are aware that the marriage of his majesty 
 is concluded upon. The king has done me the honor to 
 appoint me his marechal-des-logis for this journey and as I 
 knew with what joy his majesty would pass a day at Blois, 
 I venture to ask your royal highness' permission to mark 
 the house you inhabit as our quarters. If, however, the sud- 
 denness of this request should create to your royal highness 
 any embarrassment, I entreat you to say so ny the messenger 
 I send, a gentleman of my suite, Monsieur le Vicomte de 
 Bragelonne. My itinerary will depend upon your royal high- 
 ness' determination, and instead of passing through Blois, we 
 ►shall come through Vendome and Eomorantin. I venture 
 to hope that your royal highness will be pleased with my ar- 
 rangement, it being the expression of my boundless desire to 
 make myself agreeable to you." 
 
 "Nothing can be more gracious toward us," said madame, 
 
14 THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONNE. 
 
 who had more than once consulted the looks of her husband 
 during the reading of the letter. "The king here!" ex- 
 claimed she, in a rather louder tone than would have been 
 necessary to preserve secrecy. 
 
 "Monsieur," said his royal highness in his turn, "you 
 will offer my thanks to Monsieur le Conde, and express to 
 him my gratitude for the pleasure he has done me." Kaoui 
 bowed. 
 
 "On what day will his majesty arrive?" continued the 
 prince. I 
 
 "The king, monseigneur, will in all probability arrive 
 this evening." 
 
 "But how, then, could he have known my reply if it had 
 been in the negative?" 
 
 "I was desired, monseigneur, to return in all haste co 
 Beaugency, to give counter-orders to the courier, who was 
 himself to go back immediately with counter-orders to 
 Monsieur le Prince." 
 
 "His majesty is at Orleans, then?" 
 
 "Much nearer, monseigneur; his majesty must by this 
 time have arrived at Meung." 
 
 "Does the court accompany him?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "Apropos, I forgot to ask you after Monsieur le Cardinal." 
 
 "His eminence appears to enjoy good health, mon- 
 seigneur." 
 
 "His nieces accompany him, no doubt?" 
 
 "No, monseigneur; his eminence has ordered the Mesde- 
 moiselles de Mancini to set out for Brouage. They will 
 follow the left bank of the Loire, while the court will come 
 by the right." 
 
 "What! Mademoiselle Mary de Mancini quit the court in 
 that manner?" asked Monsieur, his reserve beginning to 
 diminish. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Mary de Mancini in particular," replied 
 Eaoul discreetly. 
 
 A fugitive smile, an imperceptible vestige of his ancient 
 spirit of intrigue, shot across the pale face of the prince. 
 
 "Thanks, Monsieur de Bragelonne," then said Monsieur. 
 "You would, perhaps, not be willing to render Monsieur le 
 Prince the commission with which I would charge you, and 
 that is, that his messenger has been very agreeable to me; 
 but I will tell him so myself." 
 
 Kaoul bowed his thanks to Monsieur for the honor he had 
 done him. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 15 
 
 Monsieur made a sign to madame, who struck a bell which 
 was placed at her right hand. M. de St. Remy entered, 
 and the room was soon rilled with people. 
 
 "Messieurs," said the prince, "his majesty is about to 
 pay me the honor of passing a day at Blois; I depend upon 
 the king, my nephew, not having to repent of the favor he 
 does my house." 
 
 " Vive le Roi!" cried all the officers of the household 
 with frantic enthusiasm, and M. de St. Remy louder than 
 the rest. 
 
 Gaston hung down his head with evident chagrin. He had 
 all his life been obliged to hear, or rather to undergo, this cry 
 of Vive le Roil" which passed over him. For along time, 
 being unaccustomed to hear it, his ear had had rest, and 
 now a younger, more vivacious, and more brilliant royalty 
 rose up before him, like a new and a more painful provoca- 
 tion. 
 
 Madame perfectly understood the sufferings of that timid, 
 gloomy heart; she rose from the table; Monsieur imitated 
 her mechanically, and all the domestics, with a buzzing 
 like that of several beehives, surrounded Raoul for the 
 purpose of questioning him. 
 
 Madame saw this movement, and called M. de St. Remy. 
 "This is not the time for gossiping, but working," said she, 
 with the tone of an angry housekeeper. 
 
 M. de St. Remy hastened to break the circle formed by 
 the officers round Raoul, so that the latter was able to gain 
 the antechamber. 
 
 "Care will be taken of that gentleman, I hope," added 
 madame, addressing M. de St. Remy. 
 
 The worthy man immediately hastened after Raoul. 
 "Madame desires refreshment to be offered you," said he; 
 "and there is, besides, a lodging for you in the castle." 
 
 "Thanks, Monsieur de St. Remy," replied Raoul; "but 
 you know how anxious I must be to pay my duty to Mon= 
 sieur le Comte, my father." 
 
 "That is' true, that is true, Monsieur Raoul; "present 
 him, at the same time, my humble respects, if you please." 
 
 Raoul thus once more got rid of the old gentleman, and 
 pursued his way. As he was passing under the porch, lead- 
 ing his horse by the bridle, a soft voice called him from the 
 depths of an obscure path. 
 
 "Monsieur Raoul!" said the voice. 
 
 The young man turned round surprised, and saw a dark- 
 complexioned girl, who, with a finger on her lip, held out 
 
16 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 her other hand to him. This girl was perfectly unknown 
 to him. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 Raoul made one step toward the girl who thus called 
 him. 
 
 "But my horse, madame?" said he. 
 
 "Oh! you are terribly embarrassed! Go out that way — 
 there is a shed in the outer court; fasten your horse, and 
 return quickly." 
 
 "I obey, madame." 
 
 Raoul was not four minutes in performing what he had 
 been directed to do; e returned to the little door, where, 
 in darkness, he found his mysterious conductress waiting 
 for him, on the first steps of a winding staircase. 
 
 "Are you brave enough to follow me, Monsieur Knight 
 Errant?" asked the girl, laughing at the momentary hesi- 
 tation Raoul had manifested. 
 
 The latter replied by springing up the dark staircase after 
 her. They thus climbed up three stories, he behind her, 
 touching with his hands, when he felt for the baluster, a 
 silk dress, which rubbed against each side of the staircase. 
 At every false step made by Raoul, his conductress cried, 
 "Hush!" and held out to him a soft and perfumed hand. 
 
 "One would mount thus to the donjon of the castle with- 
 out being conscious of fatigue," said Raoul. 
 
 "All of which means, monsieur, that you are very much 
 perplexed, very tired, and very uneasy. But be of good 
 cheer, monsieur; here we are, arrived." 
 
 The girl threw open a door, which immediately, without 
 any transition, filled with a flood of light the landing of the 
 staircase, at the top of which Raoul appeared, holding fast 
 by the balustrade. 
 
 The girl continued to walk on — he followed her; she 
 entered a chamber — he did the same. 
 
 As soon as he was fairly in the net, he heard a loud cry, 
 and, turning round, saw at two paces from him, with her 
 hands clasped and her eyes closed, that beautiful fair girl 
 with blue eyes and white shoulders, who, recognizing him, 
 had called him Raoul. 
 
 He saw her, and divined at once so much love and so 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOSTNE. /? 
 
 much joy in the expression of her countenance, that he 
 sunk on his knees in the middle of the chamber, murmur- 
 ing, on his part, the name of Louise. 
 
 "Ah! Montalais! Montalais!" she sighed, "it is very 
 wicked to deceive me so." 
 
 "Who, I? I have deceived you?" 
 
 "Yes; you told me you would go down to inquire the 
 news, and you have brought up monsieur!" 
 
 "Well, I was obliged to do so — how else could he have 
 received the letter you wrote him?" 
 
 And she pointed with her ringer to the letter which was 
 still upon the table. Raoul made a step to take it; Louise, 
 more rapid, although she had sprung forward with a suf- 
 ficiently remarkable physical hesitation, reached out her 
 hand to stop him. Raoul came in contact with that trem- 
 bling hand, took it within his own, and carried it so respect- 
 fully to his lips that he might be said to have deposited a 
 sigh upon it rather than a kiss. 
 
 In the meantime Mile, de Montalais had taken the letter, 
 folded it carefully, as women do, in three folds, and slipped 
 it into her bosom. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Louise," said she; "monsieur will no 
 more venture to take it hence than the defunct King Louis 
 XIII. ventured to take billets from the corsage of Made- 
 moiselle de Hautefort." 
 
 Raoul blushed at seeing the smile of tho two girls; and 
 he did not remark that the hand of Louise remained in his. 
 
 "There!" said Montalais, "you Lave pa doned mo, 
 Louise, for having brought monsieur to you . ard you, mon- 
 sieur, bear me no malice for having followed me to see 
 mademoiselle. Now, then, peace bein? ade, let us chal 
 like old friends. Present me, Louise to Monsieur de 
 Bragelonne." 
 
 "Monsieur le Vicomte," said Louise, with her quiet grace 
 and ingenuous smile, "I have the honor to present to you 
 Mademoiselle ~Aure de Montalais, maid of honor to her 
 royal highness, madame, and moreover my friend — my ex- 
 cellent friend." 
 
 Raoul bowed ceremoniously. 
 
 "And me, Louise," said he; "will you not present me 
 also to mademoiselle?" 
 
 "Oh, she knows you — she knows all!" 
 
 This unguarded expression made Montalais laugh and 
 Raoul sigh with happiness, fo r he interpreted it thus: "She 
 knows all our love." 
 
18 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE. 
 
 "The ceremonies being over, Monsieur le Vicomte," said 
 Montalais, "take a chair, and tell us quickly the news you 
 bring flying thus." 
 
 "Mademoiselle, it is no longer a secret; the king, on his 
 way to Poitiers, will stop at Blois, to visit his royal high- 
 ness." 
 
 "The king here!" exclaimed Montalais, clapping her 
 hands, "What! are we going to see the court? Only 
 think, Louise — the real court from Paris! Oh, good 
 heavens! But when will this happen, monsieur?" 
 
 "Perhaps this evening, mademoiselle; at latest, to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Montalais lifted her shoulders in sign of vexation. 
 
 "No time to get ready! No time to prepare a single 
 dress! We are as far behind the fashion as the Poles. We 
 shall look like portraits of the times of Henry IV. Ah, 
 monsieur! this is sad news you bring us!" 
 
 "But, mesdemoiselles, you will be still beautiful." 
 
 "That's stale! Yes, we shall be always beautiful, because 
 nature has made us passable; but we shall be ridiculous, 
 because the fashion will have forgotten us. Alas! ridicu- 
 lous! I shall be thought ridiculous — I!" 
 
 "And by whom?" said Louise innocently. 
 
 "By whom? You are a strange girl, my dear. Is that a 
 question to put to me? I mean everybody; I mean the 
 courtiers, the nobles; I mean the king." 
 
 "Pardon me, my good friend; but as here every one is 
 accustomed to see us as we are " 
 
 "Granted; but that is about to change, and we shall be 
 ridiculous, even for Blois; for close to us will be seen the 
 fashions from Paris, and they will perceive that we are in 
 the fashion of Blois! It is enough to make one wild!" 
 , "Console yourself, mademoiselle." 
 
 "Well, so let it be! After all, so much the worse for 
 those who do not find me to their taste!" said Montalais 
 philosophically. 
 
 "They would be very difficult to please," replied Eaoul, 
 faithful to his regular system of gallantry. 
 
 "Thank you. Monsieur le Vicomte. We were saying, 
 then, that the king is coming to Blois?" 
 
 "With all the court." 
 
 "Mesdemoiselles de Mancini, will they be with them?" 
 
 "No, certainly not." 
 
 "But as the king, it is said, cannot do without Made- 
 moiselle Mary?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE. 19 
 
 "Mademoiselle, the king must do without her. Monsieur 
 le Cardinal will have it so. He has exiled his nieces to 
 Brouage." 
 
 "He! the hypocrite!" 
 
 "Hush!" said Louise, pressing a finger on her friend's 
 rosy lips. 
 
 "Bah! nobody can hear me. I say that old Mazarino 
 Mazarini is a hypocrite, who burns impatiently to make his 
 niece Queen of France." 
 
 "That cannot be, mademoiselle, since Monsieur le Car- 
 dinal, on the contrary, has brought about the marriage of 
 his majesty with the Infanta Maria Theresa." 
 
 Montalais looked Raoul full in the face, and said, "And 
 do you Parisians believe in these tales? Well! we are a 
 little more cunning than you at Blois." 
 
 "Mademoiselle, if the king goes beyond Poitiers and sets 
 out for Spain; if the articles of the marriage contract are 
 agreed upon by Don Luis de Haro and his eminence, you 
 must plainly perceive that it is not child's play." 
 
 "All very fine! but the king is king, I suppose?" 
 
 "No doubt, mademoiselle; but the cardinal is the car- 
 dinal." 
 
 "The king is not a man then! And he does not love 
 Mary Mancini?" 
 
 "He adores her." 
 
 "Well, he will marry her then. We shall have war with 
 Spain. Monsieur Mazarin will spend a few of the millions 
 he has put away; our gentlemen will perform prodigies of 
 valor in their encounters with the proud Castilians, and 
 many of them will return crowned with laurels, to be re- 
 croAvned by us with myrtles. Now, that is my view of 
 politics." 
 
 "Montalais, you are wild!" said Louise, "and every ex- 
 aggeration attracts you as light does a moth." 
 
 "Louise, you are so extremely reasonable that you will 
 never know how to love." 
 
 "Oh!" said Louise, in a tone of tender reproach, "don't 
 you see, Montalais? The queen-mother desires to marry 
 her son to the infanta; would you wish him to disobey his 
 mother? Is it for a royal heart like this to set such a bad 
 example? W T hen parents forbid love, love must be 
 banished." 
 
 And Louise sighed; Raoul cast down his eyes, with an 
 expression of constraint. Montalais, on her part, laughed 
 aloud. 
 
20 THE YICOMTE DE PRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Well, I have no parents!" said she. 
 
 "You are acquainted, without doubt, with the state of 
 health of Monsieur le Comte de la Fere?" said Louise, 
 after breathing that sigh which had revealed so many grief* 
 in its eloquent utterance. 
 
 "No, mademoiselle," replied Raoul, "I have not yet paid 
 my respects to my father; I was going to his house when 
 Mademoiselle de Montalais so kindly stopped me. I hop<$ 
 ,the comte is well. You have heard nothing to the con- 
 trary, have you?" 
 
 "No, Monsieur Raoul — nothing, thank God!" 
 
 Here, for several instants, ensued a silence, during whiok 
 two spirits, which followed the same idea, communicated 
 perfectly, without even the assistance of a single glance. 
 
 "Oh, heavent!" exclaimed Montalais, in a fright, "there 
 is somebody coming up." 
 
 "Who can it be?" said Louise, rising in great agitation. 
 
 "Mesdemoiselles, I inconvenience you very much. I have, 
 without doubt, been very indiscreet," stammered Raoul. 
 very ill at ease. 
 
 "It is a heavy step," said Louise. 
 
 "Ah! if it is only Monsieur Malicorne," added Monta- 
 lais, "do not disturb yourselves." 
 
 Louise and Raoul looked at each other to inquire who M. 
 Malicorne could be. 
 
 "There is no occasion to mind him," continued Monta- 
 lais, "he is not jealous." 
 
 "But, mademoiselle — " said Raoul. 
 
 "Yes, I understand. Well, he is as discreet as I am." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Louise, who had applied her ear 
 to the door, which had been left ajar; "it is my mother's 
 step." 
 
 "Madame de St. Remy! Where shall I hide myself?" 
 exclaimed Raoul, catching at the dress of Montalais, who 
 looked quite bewildered. 
 
 "Yes," said she; "yes, I know the clicking of those 
 pattens. It is our excellent mother. Monsieur le Vicomte, 
 what a pity it is the window looks upon a stone pavement, 
 and that fifty paces below it." 
 
 Raoul glanced at the balcony in despair. Louise seized 
 his arm, and held it tight. 
 
 "Oh, how silly I am!" said Montalais; "have I not the 
 robe-of-ceremony closet? It looks as if it were made on 
 purpose." 
 
 It was quite time to act; Mme. de St. Remy was coming 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 21 
 
 up at a quicker pace than usual. She gained the landing 
 at the moment when Montalais, as in all scenes of surpiises, 
 shut the closet by leaning with her back against the door. 
 
 ''Ah!" cried Mme. de St. Remy, "you are here, are you, 
 Louise?" 
 
 "Yes, madame," replied she, more pale than if she had 
 committed a great crime. 
 
 "Well, well!" 
 i "Pray be seated, madame," said Montalais, offering her 
 a chair, which she placed so that the back was toward the 
 closet. 
 
 "Thank you, Mademoiselle Aure — thank you. Come, 
 my child, be quick." 
 
 "Where do you wish me to go, madame?" 
 
 "Why, home, to be sure; have you not to prepare your 
 toilet?" 
 
 "What did you say?" cried Montalais, hastening to affect 
 surprise, so fearful was she that Louise would in some way 
 commit herself. 
 
 "You don't know the news, then?" said Mme. de St. 
 Remy. 
 
 "What news, madame, is it possible for two girls to learn 
 up in this dovecote?" 
 
 "What, have you seen nobody?" 
 
 "Madame, you talk in enigmas, and you torment us at a 
 slow tire!" cried Montalais, who, terrified at seeing Louise 
 become paler and paler, did not know to what saint to put 
 up her vows. 
 
 At length she caught an eloquent look of her companion, 
 one of those looks which would convey intelligence to a 
 brick wall. Louise directed her attention to a hat — Raoul's 
 unlucky hat, which was set out in all its feathery splendor 
 upon the table. 
 
 Montalais sprung toward it, and, seizing it with her left 
 hand, passed it behind her into the right, concealing it •« 
 she was speaking. 
 
 "Well," said Mme. de St. Remy, "a courier has arrived, 
 announcing the approach of the king. There, mesdemoi- 
 selles; there is something to make you put on your best 
 looks." 
 
 "Quick, quick!" cried Montalais. "Follow madame, 
 your mother, Louise; and leave me to get ready my dress 
 of ceremony." 
 
 Louise arose; her mother took her by the hand, and led. 
 her out on to the landing. 
 
22 THE VICOMTE DE ERAGELONNE. 
 
 "Come along," said she; then adding, in a low voice, 
 "When I forbid you to come to the apartment of Montalais, 
 why do you do so?" 
 
 "Madame, she is my friend. Besides., I .» T as but just 
 come." 
 
 "Did you see nobody concealed while you were there?" 
 
 "Madame!" 
 
 "I saw a man's hat, I tell you — the hat of that fellow, 
 that good-for-nothing." 
 
 "Madame!" repeated Louise. 
 
 "Of that do-nothing, De Malicorne. A maid of honoi to 
 have such company — fy, fy!" And their voices were lost 
 in the depths of the narrow staircase. 
 
 Montalais had not missed a word of this conversation, 
 which echo conveyed to her as if through a tunnel. She 
 shrugged her shoulders on seeing Raoul, who had listened 
 likewise, issue from the closet. 
 
 "Poor Montalais!" said she, "the victim of friendship! 
 Poor Malicorne, the victim of love!" 
 
 She stopped on viewing the tragic-comic face of Raoul, 
 who was vexed at having, in one day, surprised so many 
 secrets. 
 
 "Oh, mademoiselle!" said he, "how can we repay your 
 kindness?" 
 
 "Oh, we will balance accounts some day," said she. 
 "For the present, be gone, Monsieur de Bragelonne, for 
 Madame de St. Remy is not overindulgent; and any indis- 
 cretion on her part might bring hither a domiciliary visit, 
 which would be disagreeable to all parties." 
 
 "But, Louise — how shall I know " 
 
 "Be gone! be gone! King Louis XI. knew very well 
 what he was about when he invented the post." 
 
 "Alas!" sighed Raoul. 
 
 "And am I not here — I, who am worth all the posts in 
 the kingdom? Quick, I say, to horse! so that if Madame de 
 St. Remy should return for the purpose of preaching me a 
 lesson on morality, she may not find you here." 
 
 "She would tell my father, would she not?" murmured 
 Raoul. 
 
 "And you would be scolded. Ah, :icomte, it is very 
 plain you come from court; you are as timid as the king. 
 Peste! at Blois we contrive better than that, to do without 
 papa's consent. Ask Malicorne else." 
 
 And at these words the girl pushed Raoul out of the 
 room by the shoulders. He glided swiftly down to the 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 23 
 
 porch, regained his horse, mounted, and set off as if he had 
 had Monsieur's guards at his heels. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Raoul followed the well-known road, so dear to his 
 memory, which led from Blois to the residence of the 
 Comte de la Fere. 
 
 The reader will dispense with a second description of that 
 habitation; he, perhaps, has been with us there before, and 
 knows it. Only, since our last journey thither, the walls 
 had taken a grayer tint, and the brick-work assumed a more 
 harmonious copper tone; the trees had grown, and many 
 that then only stretched their slender branches along the 
 tops of the hedges, now, bushy, strong, and luxuriant, cast 
 around, beneath boughs swollen with sap, a thick shade of 
 flowers or fruit for the benefit of the traveler. 
 
 Raoul perceived, from a distance, the two little turrets, 
 the dovecote in the elms, and the flights of pigeons, which 
 wheeled incessantly around that brick cone, seemingly with- 
 out a power to quit it, like the sweet memories which 
 hover round a spirit at peace. 
 
 As he approached he heard the noise of the pulleys 
 which grated under the weight of the mossy pails; he also 
 fancied he heard the melancholy moaning of the water 
 which falls back again into the wells — a sad, funereal, 
 6olemn sound, which strikes the ear of the child and the 
 poet — both dreamers — which the English call splash, 
 Arabian poets, gasgachau, and which we Frenchmen, who 
 would be poets, can only translate by a paraphrase — "the 
 noise of water falling into water." 
 
 It was more than a year since Raoul had been to visit his 
 father. He had passed the whole time in the household of 
 M. le Prince. In fact, after all the commotions of the 
 Fronde, of the early period of which we formerly attempted 
 to give a sketch, Louis de Condehad made a public, solemn, 
 and frank reconciliation with the court. During all the 
 time that the rupture between the king and the prince had 
 lasted, the prince, who had long entertained a great regard 
 for Bragelonne, had in vain offered him advantages of the 
 most dazzling kind for a young man. The Comte de la 
 Fere, still faithful to his principles of loyalty and royalty, 
 
24 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 one day developed before his son in the vaults of St. Denis 
 — the Comte de la Fere, in the name of his son, had always 
 declined them. Moreover, instead of following M. de 
 Conde in his rebellion, the vicomte had followed M. 
 de Turenne, fighting for the king. Then, when M. de 
 Turenne, in his turn, had appeared to abandon the royal 
 cause, he had quitted M. de Turenne, as he had quitted M. 
 de Conde. It resulted from this invariable line of conduct, 
 that, as Conde and Turenne had never been conquerors of 
 each other but under the standard of the king, Raoul, how- 
 ever young, had ten victories inscribed on his list of 
 services, and not one defeat from which his bravery or 
 conscience had to suffer. 
 
 Eaoul, therefore, had, in compliance with the wish of his 
 father, served obstinately and passively the fortunes of 
 Louis XIV., in spite of the tergiversations which were 
 endemic, and, it might be said, inevitable, at that period. 
 
 M. de Conde, on being restored to favor, had at once 
 availed himself of all the privileges of the amnesty to ask 
 for many things back again which had been granted him 
 before, and among others, Raoul. M. de la Fere, with his 
 invariable good sense, had immediately sent him again to 
 the prince. 
 
 A year, then, had passed away since the separation of the 
 father and son; a few letters had softened, but not removed, 
 the pains of absence. We have seen that Raoul had left at 
 Blois another love in addition to filial love. But let us do 
 him this justice — if it had not been for chance and Mile, de 
 Montalais, two tempting demons, Raoul, after delivering 
 his message, woul] have galloped off toward his father's 
 house, turning his head round, perhaps, but without stop- 
 ping for a single instant, even if Louise had held out her 
 arms to him. 
 
 So the first part of the distance was given by Raoul to 
 regretting the part which he had been forced to quit so 
 quickly, that is to say, his lady-love; and the other part to 
 the friend he was about to join, so much too slowly for his 
 wishes. 
 
 Raoul found the garden gate open, and rode straight in, 
 without regarding the long arms, raised in anger, of an old 
 man dressed in a jacket of violet-colored wool, and a large 
 cap of old faded velvet. 
 
 The old man, who was weeding with his hands a bed of 
 dwarf roses and marguerites, was indignant at seeing a 
 horse thus traversing his sanded and nicely raked walks, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 25 
 
 He even ventured a vigorous ''Humph!" which made the 
 cavalier turn round. Then there was a change of scene; 
 for no sooner had he caught sight of Raoul's face than the 
 old man sprung up and set off in the direction of the house, 
 amid interrupted growlings, which he meant to be paroxysms 
 of wild delight. 
 
 When arrived at the stables, Raoul gave his horse to a 
 little lackey, and sprung up the perron with an ardor that 
 would have delighted the heart of his father. 
 
 He crossed the antechamber, the dining-room, and the 
 salon, without meeting with any one; at length, on reach- 
 ing the door of M. de la Fere's apartment, he rapped im- 
 patiently, and entered almost without waiting for the word 
 "Enter!" which was thrown to him by a voice at once sweet 
 and serious. 
 
 The comte was seated at a table covered with papers and 
 books; he was still the noble, handsome gentleman of for- 
 mer days, but time had given to this nobleness and beauty 
 a more solemn and distinct character. A brow white and 
 void of wrinkles, beneath his long hair, now more white 
 than black; an eye piercing and mild, under the lids of a 
 young man; his mustache, fine but slightly grizzled, waved 
 over lips of a pure and delicate model, as if they had never 
 been curled by mortal passions; a shape straight and sup- 
 ple; an irreproachable but thin hand — this vvr- what re- 
 mained of the illustrious gentleman whom so ma y illus- 
 trious mouths had praised under the name of Athos. He 
 was engaged in correcting the pages of a manuscript book, 
 entirely filled by his own hand. 
 
 Raoul seized his father by the shoulders, by the neck, as 
 he could, and embraced him so tenderly and so rapidly 
 that the comte had neither strength nor time to disengage 
 himself, or to overcome his paternal emotions. 
 
 "What, you here, Raoul — you? Is it possible?" said he. 
 
 "Oh, monsieur, monsieur, what joy to see you once 
 again!" 
 
 "But you don't answer me, vicomte. Have you leave of 
 absence, or has some misfortune happened at Paris?" 
 
 "Thank God, monsieur," replied Raoul, calming himself 
 by degrees, "nothing has happened but what is fortunate. 
 The king is going to be married, as I had the honor of in- 
 forming you in my last letter, and, on his way to Spain, 
 will pass through Blois." 
 
 "To pay a visit to Monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Comte. So, fearing to find him un- 
 
26 THE VICOMTE DE BEAGELONNE. 
 
 prepared, or wishing to be particularly polite to him, Mod. 
 sieur le Prince sent me forward to have the lodgings ready." 
 
 "You have seen Monsieur?" asked the eomte eagerly. 
 
 "I have had that honor." 
 
 "At the castle?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied Eaoul, casting down his eyes, 
 because, no doubt, he had felt there was something more 
 than curiosity in the comte's inquiries. 
 
 "Ah, indeed, vicomte? Accept my compliments there- 
 upon." 
 
 Eaoul bowed. 
 
 "But you have seen some one else at Blois?" 
 
 "Monsieur, I saw her royal highness, madame." 
 
 "That's very well; but it is not madame that I mean." 
 
 Eaoul colored deeply, but made no reply. 
 
 "You do not appear to understand me, Monsieur le 
 Vicomte," persisted M. de la Fere, without accenting his 
 words more strongly, but with a rather severer look. 
 
 "I understand you quite plainly, monsieur," replied 
 Eaoul, "and if I hesitated a little in my reply, you are well 
 assured I am not seeking for a falsehood." 
 
 "No, you cannot lie; and that makes me so astonished 
 you should be so long in saying yes or no." 
 
 "I cannot answer you without understanding you well; 
 and if I have understood you, you will take my first words 
 in ill part. You will be displeased, no doubt, Monsieur le 
 Comte, because I have seen " 
 
 "Mademoiselle de la Valliere — have you not?" 
 
 "It was of her you meant to speak, I know very well, 
 monsieur," said Eaoul, with inexpressible sweetness. 
 
 "And I ask you if you have seen her." 
 
 "Monsieur, I was ignorant, when I entered the castle, 
 that Mademoiselle de la Valliere was there; it was only on 
 my return, after I had performed my mission, that chance 
 brought us together. I have had the honor of paying my 
 respects to her." 
 
 "But what do you call the chance that led you into the 
 presence of Mademoiselle de la Valliere?" 
 
 "Mademoiselle de Montalais, monsieur." 
 
 "And who is Mademoiselle de Montalais?" 
 
 "A young lady I did not know before, whom I had never 
 seen. She is maid of honor to madame." 
 
 "Monsieur le Vicomte, I will push my interrogatory no 
 further, and reproach myself with having carried it so far. 
 I had desired you to avoid Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONJs'E. 27 
 
 not to see her without my permission. Oh, I am quite sure 
 you have told me the truth, and that you took no measures 
 to approach her. Chance has done me this injury; I do 
 not accuse you of it. I will be content, then, with what I 
 formerly said to you concerning this young lady. I do not 
 reproach her with anything — God is my witness; only it is 
 not my intention or wish that you should frequent her place 
 of residence. I beg you once more, my dear Eaoul, to 
 understand that." , 
 
 It was plain the limpid, pure eye of Eaoul was troubled 
 at this speech. 
 
 "Now, my friend," said the comte, with his soft smile, and 
 in his customary tone, ''let us talk of other matters. You 
 are returning, perhaps, to your duty?" 
 
 "No, monsieur, I have no duty for to-day, except the 
 pleasure of remaining with you. The prince kindly ap- 
 pointed me no other, which was so much in accord with my 
 wish." 
 
 "Is the king well?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "And Monsieur le Prince also?" 
 
 "As usual, monsieur." 
 
 The comte forgot to inquire after Mazarin; that was an 
 old habit. 
 
 "Well, Kaoul, since you are entirely mine, I will give up 
 my whole day to you. Embrace me — again, again! You 
 fire at home, vicomte! Ah! there is our old Grimaud. 
 Come in, Grimaud; Monsieur le Vicomte is desirous of em- 
 bracing you likewise." 
 
 The good old man did not require to be twice told; he 
 rushed in with open arms, Eaoul meeting him halfway. 
 
 "Now, if you please, we will go into the garden, Eaoul. 
 I will show you the new lodging I have had prepared for 
 you during your leave of absence; and while examining the 
 last winter's plantations, and two saddle-horses I have just 
 changed for, you will give me all the news of our friends in 
 Paris." 
 
 The comte closed his manuscript, took the young man's 
 arm, and went out into the garden with him. 
 
 Grimaud looked at Raoul with a melancholy air as the 
 young man passed out; observing that his head nearly 
 touched the traverse of the doorway, stroking his white 
 rot/ale, he allowed the single word, "Grown!" to escape 
 him. 
 
28 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH SOMETHING WILL BE SAID OF CROPOLI — OF 
 CROPOLI AND OF A GREAT UNKNOWN PAINTER. 
 
 While the Comte de la Fere, with Raoul, visits the new 
 buildings he has had erected, and the new horses he has 
 bought, with the reader's permission we will lead him back 
 to the city of Blois, and make him a witness of the unaccus- 
 tomed activity which pervades that city. 
 
 It was in the hotels that the surprise of the news brought 
 by Raoul was most sensibly felt. 
 
 In fact, the king and the court at Blois, that is to say, a 
 hundred horsemen, ten carriages, two hundred horses, as 
 many lackeys as masters — where was this crowd to be 
 housed? Where were to be lodged all the gentry of the 
 neighborhood, who would flock in two or three hours after 
 the news had enlarged the circle of its report, like the in- 
 creasing circumferences produced by a stone thrown into a 
 placid lake? 
 
 Blois, as peaceful in the morning, as we have seen, as the 
 calmest lake in the world, at the announcement of the royal 
 arrival, was suddenly filled with the tumult and buzzing of 
 a swarm of bees. 
 
 All the servants of the castle, under the inspection of the 
 officers, were sent into the city in quest of provisions, and 
 ten horsemen were dispatched to the preserves of Chambord 
 to seek for game, to the fisheries of Beuvion for fish, and to 
 the gardens of Chiverny for fruits and flowers. 
 
 Precious tapestries, and lusters with great gilt chains, 
 were drawn from he wardrobes; an army of the poor were 
 engaged in sweeping the courts and washing the stone 
 fronts, while their wives went in droves to the meadows be- 
 yond the Loire, to gather green boughs and field flowers. 
 The whole city, not to be behind in this luxury of cleanli- 
 ness, assumed its best toilet with the help of brushes, 
 brooms, and water. 
 
 The kennels of the upper city, swollen by these continued 
 lotions, became rivers at the bottom of the city, and the 
 pavement, generally very muddy, it must be allowed, took 
 a clean face, and absolutely shone in the friendly rays of 
 the sun. 
 
 Next the music was to be provided ; drawers wore emptied : 
 the shop keepers had a glorious trade in wax. ribbons, and 
 sword-knots; housekeepers laid in stores of bread, meat, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE,. 29 
 
 and spices. Already numbers of the citizens, whose houses 
 were furnished as if for a siege, having nothing more to do, 
 donned their festive clothes, and directed their course to- 
 ward the city gate, in order to be the first to signal or see 
 the cortege. They knew very well that the king would not 
 arrive before night, perhaps not before the next morning. 
 But what is expectation but a kind of folly, and what is 
 that folly but an excess of hope? 
 
 In the lower city, at scarcely a hundred paces from the 
 Castle of the States, between the mall and the castle, in a 
 sufficiently handsome street, then called Eue Vieille, and 
 which must, in fact, have been very old, stood a venerable 
 edifice, with pointed gables, of squat and large dimensions, 
 ornamented with three windows looking into the street on 
 the first floor, with two in the second, and with a little ceil 
 de bceufin the third. 
 
 On the sides of this triangle had recently been constructed 
 a parallelogram of considerable size, which encroached upon 
 the street remorselessly, according to the familiar uses of 
 the edility of that period. The street was narrowed by a 
 quarter by it, but then the house was enlarged by a half; 
 and was not that a sufficient compensation? 
 
 Tradition said that this house with the pointed gables 
 was inhabited, in the time of Henry III., by a councilor of 
 state whom Queen Catherine came, some say to visit, and 
 others to strangle. However that may be, the good lady 
 nrnst have stepped with a circumspect foot over the thresh- 
 old of this building. 
 
 After the councilor had died — whether by strangulation 
 or naturally is of no consequence — the house had been sold, 
 then abandoned, and lastly isolated from the other houses 
 of the street. Toward the middle of the reign of Louis 
 XIII. only, an Italian, named Cropoli, escaped from the 
 kitchens of the Marquis d'Ancre, came and took possession 
 i of this house. There he established a little hostelry, in 
 which was fabricated a maccaroni so delicious that people 
 1 came from miles round to fetch it or eat it. 
 
 So famous had the house become ^or it that when Mary 
 de Medici was a prisoner, as we know, in the castle of Blois, 
 she once sent for some. 
 
 It was precisely on the day she had escaped by the famous 
 window. The dish of maccaroni was left upon the table, 
 only just tasted by the royal mouth. 
 
 This double favor, of a strangulation and a maccaroni, 
 conferred upon the triangular house, gave poor Cropoli a 
 
80 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONN1. 
 
 fancy to grace his hostelry with a pompous title. But his 
 quality of an Italian was no recommendation in these times, 
 and his small, well-concealed fortune forbid attracting too 
 much attention. 
 
 When he found himself about to die, which happened in 
 1643, just after the death of Louis XIII. , he called to him 
 his son, a young cook of great promise, and with tears in 
 his eyes he recommended him to preserve carefully the 
 secret of the maccaroni, to Frenchify his name, and at 
 length, when the political horizon should be cleared from 
 the clouds which obscured it — this was practiced then as in 
 our day — to order of the nearest smith a handsome sign, 
 upon which a famous painter, whom he named, should de- 
 sign two queens' portraits, with these words as a legend: 
 "To the Medici." 
 
 The worthy Cropoli, after these recommendations, had 
 only sufficient time to point out to his young successor a 
 chimney, under the slab of which he had hidden a thou- 
 sand ten-franc louis, and then expired. 
 
 Cropoli, the younger, like a man of good heart, supported 
 the loss with resignation, and the gain without insolence. 
 He began by accustoming the public to sound the final i of 
 his name so little, that, by the aid of general complaisance, 
 he was soon called nothing but M. Cropole, which is quite a 
 French name. He then married, having had in his eyes a 
 little French girl, from whose parents he extorted a reason- 
 able dowry by snowing them what there was beneath the 
 slab of the chimney. 
 
 These two points accomplished, he went in search of the 
 painter who was to paint the sign, and he was soon found. 
 He was an old Italian, a rival of the Eaphaels and the 
 Caracchi, but an unfortunate rival. He said he was of the 
 Venetian school, doubtless from his fondness for color. 
 His works, of which he had never sold one, attracted the 
 eye at a distance of a hundred paces; but they so formidably 
 displeased the citizens that he had finished by painting no 
 more. 
 
 He boasted of having painted a bath-room for Mme. la 
 Marechale d'Ancre, and moaned over this chamber having 
 been burned at the time of the marechal's disaster. 
 
 Cropoli, in his character of a compatriot, was indulgent 
 toward Pittrino, which was the name of the artist. Per- 
 haps he had seen the famous pictures of the bath-room. 
 Be this as it may, he held in such esteem, we may say in 
 such friendship, the famous Pittrino, that he took him into 
 his own house 
 
tfHE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. ^1 
 
 Pittrino, grateful, and fed with maccaroni, set about 
 propagating the reputation of this national dish, and from 
 the time of its founder he had rendered, with his inde- 
 fatigable tongue, signal services to the house of Cropoli. 
 
 As he grew old he attached himself to the son as he had 
 done to the father, and by degrees became a kind of over- 
 looker of a house in which his remarkable integrity, hit 
 acknowledged sobriety, and a thousand other virtues useless 
 to enumerate, gave him an eternal place by the fireside, 
 with a right of inspection over the domestics. Besides 
 this, it was he who tasted the maccaroni, to maintain the 
 pure flavor of the ancient tradition ; and it. must be allowed 
 that he never permitted & grain of pepper too much or an 
 atom of parmesan too little. His joy was at its height on 
 that day when called upon to share the secret of Cropoli 
 the younger and to paint the famous sign. 
 
 He was seen at once rummaging with ardor in an old 
 box, in which he found some pencils, a little gnawed by 
 the rats, but still passable; some colors in bladders, almost 
 dried up ; some linseed-oil in a bottle, and a palette which 
 had formerly belonged to Bronzino, that dieu de la pit- 
 toure, as the ultra-montane artist always called him. 
 
 Pittrino was puffed up with all the joy of a rehabilitation. 
 
 He did as Raphael had done — he changed his style, and 
 painted, in the fashion of the Albanian, two goddesses 
 rather than two queens. These illustrious ladies appeared 
 so lovely on the sign — they presented to the astonished eyes 
 such an assemblage of lilies and roses, the enchanting re- 
 sult of the change of style in Pittrino — they assumed the 
 poses of sirens so Anacreontieally — that the principal 
 Schevin, when admitted to view this capital piece in the 
 salle of Cropole, at once declared that these ladies were too 
 handsome to figure as a sign in the eyes of passengers. 
 
 To Pittrino he added, "His Royal Highness Monsieur, 
 who often comes into our city, will not be much pleased to 
 see his illustrious mother so slightly clothed, and he will 
 send you to the oubliettes of the state; for, remember, the 
 heart of that glorious prince is not always tender. You 
 must efface either the two sirens of the legend, without 
 which I forbid the exhibition of the sign. I say this for 
 your sake, Master Cropole, as well as for yours, Signor 
 Pittrino." 
 
 What answer could be made to this? It was necessary to 
 
ffi THE VTCOMTE DE BRA4EL0KNE. 
 
 thank the Schevin for his kindness, which .Cropole did. 
 But Pittrino remained downcast, and said he felt assured oi 
 what was about to happen. 
 
 The edile Avas scarcely gone when Cropole, crossing his 
 arms, said: 
 
 "Well, master, what is to ha done?" 
 
 "We must efface the legend," said Pittrino, in a melan- 
 choly tone. "I have some excellent ivory-black; it will be 
 done in a moment, and we will replace the Medici by the 
 nymphs or the sirens, whichever you prefer." 
 
 "No," said Cropole; "the will of my father must be car- 
 ried out. My father considered " 
 
 "He considered the figures of the most importance/' said 
 Pittrino. 
 
 "He thought most of the legend," said Cropole. 
 
 "The proof of the importance in which he held the 
 figures," said Pittrino, "is that he desired they should be 
 likenesses, and they are so." 
 
 "Yes; but if they had not been so who would have 
 recognized them without the legend? At the present day 
 even, when the memory of the Blaisois begins to be faint 
 with regard to these two celebrated persons, who would 
 recognize Catherine and Mary without the words 'To the 
 Medici?'" 
 
 "But the figures?" said Pittrino, in despair; for he felt 
 that young Cropole was right. "I should not like to lose 
 the fruit of my labor." 
 
 "And I should not wish you to be thrown into prison, 
 xnd myself into the oubliettes." 
 
 "Let us efface 'Medici,' " said Pittrino supplicatingly. 
 
 "No," replied Cropole firmly. "I have got an idea, a 
 sublime idea — your picture shall appear, and my legend 
 likewise. Does not 'Medici' mean doctor, or physician, in 
 Italian?" 
 
 "Yes, in the plural." 
 
 "Well, then, you shall order another sign-frame of the 
 smith; you shall paint six physicians, and write underneath 
 'Aux Medici,' which makes a very pretty play upon words." 
 
 "Six physicians! impossible! And the composition?" 
 cried Pittrino. 
 
 "That is your business, — but so it shall be — I insist upon 
 it — it must be so — my maccaroni is burning." 
 
 This reasoning was peremptory — Pittrino obeyed. He 
 composed the sign of six physicians, with the legend; the 
 ecltevin applauded and authorized it. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNL. 33 
 
 The sign produced an extravagant success in the city, 
 which proves that poetry has always been in the wrong be- 
 fore citizens, as Pittrino said. 
 
 Cropole, to make amends to his painter-in-ordinary, 
 hung up the nymphs of the preceding sign in his bedroom, 
 which made Mme. Cropole blush every time she looked at 
 it when she was undressing at night. 
 
 This is the way in which the pointed gable house got a 
 sign ; and this is how the hostelry of the Medici, making a 
 fortune, was found to be enlarged by a quarter, as we have 
 described. And this is how there was at Blois a hostelry of 
 that name, and had for painter-in-ordinary Master Pittrino, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE UNKNOWN. 
 
 Thus founded and recommended by this sign, the hostelry 
 of Master Cropole held its way steadily on toward a solid 
 prosperity. 
 
 It was not an immense fortune that Cropole had in per- 
 spective; but he might hope to double the thousand louis 
 d'or left by his father, to make another thousand louis by 
 the sale of his house and stock, and at length to live happily 
 like a retired citizen. 
 
 Cropole was anxious for gain, and was half-crazy with 
 joy at the news of the arrival of Louis XIV. 
 
 Himself, his wife, Pittrino, and two cooks, immediately 
 laid hands upon all the inhabitants of the dovecote, the 
 poultry-yard, and the rabbit-hutches; so that as many 
 lamentations and cries resounded in the yards of the hos= 
 telry of the Medici as were formerly heard in Rama. 
 
 Cropole had, at the time, but one single traveler in 
 his house. 
 
 This was a man of scarcely thirty years of ago, hand- 
 some, tall, austere. 
 
 He was dressed in black velvet with jet trimmings; a 
 white collar, as plain as that of the severest Puritan, set off 
 the whiteness of his youthful neck; a small, dark-colored 
 mustache scarcely covered his curled, disdainful lip. 
 
 He spoke to people looking them full in the face, without 
 affectation, it is true, but without scruple; so that the 
 brilliancy of his black eyes became so insupportable, that 
 
34 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 more than one look had sunk beneath his, like the weaker 
 sword in a single combat. 
 
 At this time, in which men, all created equal by God, 
 were divided, thanks to prejudices, into two distinct castes, 
 the gentleman and the commoner, as they are really divided 
 into two races — the black and the white — at this time, 
 we say, he whose portrait we have just sketched could not 
 fail of being taken for a gentleman, and of the best class. 
 To ascertain this, there was no necessity to consult airything 
 but his hands, long, slender, and white, of which every 
 muscle, every vein, became apparent through the skin at the 
 least movement, and the phalanges reddened at the least 
 crispation. 
 
 This gentleman, then, had arrived alone at Cropole's 
 house. He had taken, without hesitation, the principal 
 apartment which the hotelier had pointed out to him 
 with a rapacious aim, very praiseworthy some will say, very 
 reprehensible will say others, if they admit that Cropole was 
 a physiognomist, and judged people at first sight. 
 
 This apartment was that which composed the whole front 
 of the ancient triangular house; a large salon, lighted by 
 two windows on the first stage, a small chamber by the side 
 of it, and another above it. 
 
 Now, from the time he had arrived, this gentleman had 
 scarcely touched any repast that had been served up to him 
 in his chamber. He had spoken but two words to the hose, 
 to warn him that a traveler of the name of Parry would 
 arrive, and to desire that, when he did, he should be shown 
 up to him immediately. 
 
 He afterward preserved so profound a silence that Cro- 
 pole was almost offended, so much did he prefer people who 
 were good company. 
 
 This gentleman had risen early the morning of the day 
 on which this history begins, and had placed himself at the 
 window of his salon, seated upon the lectge, and leaning upon 
 the rail of the balcony, gazing sadly but persistently on both 
 sides of the street, watching, no doubt, for the arrival of the 
 traveler he had mentioned to the host. 
 
 In this way he had seen the little cortege of Monsieur 
 return from hunting, then had again partaken of the pro- 
 found tranquillity of the street, absorbed in his own expecta- 
 tion. All at once the movement of the poor going to the 
 meadows, couriers setting out, washers of pavements, pur- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 35 
 
 veyors of the royal household, gabbling, scampering shop- 
 boys, chariots in motion, hairdressers on the run, and 
 pages toiling along — this tumult and bustle had surprised 
 him, but without losing any of that impassible and supreme 
 majesty which gives to the eagle and the lion that serene 
 ami contemptuous glance amid the hurrahs and shouts of 
 hunters or the curious. 
 
 Soon the cries of the victims slaughtered in the poultry- 
 yard, th-e hasty steps of Mme. Cropole up that little wooden 
 staircase, so narrow and so sonorous; the bounding pace 
 of Pittrino, who only that morning was smoking at the door 
 with all the phlegm of a Dutchman; all this communicated 
 something like surprise and agitation to the traveler. 
 
 As he was rising to make inquiries, the door of his cham- 
 ber opened. The unknown concluded they were about to 
 introduce the impatiently expected traveler, and made three 
 precipitate steps to meet im. 
 
 But, instead of the person he expected, it was Master 
 Cropole who appeared, and behind him, in the half-dark 
 staircase, the pleasant face of Mme. Cropole, rendered 
 trivial by curiosity. She only gave one furtive glance at 
 the handsome gentleman, and disappeared. 
 
 Cropole advanced, cap in hand, rather bent than bowing. 
 
 A gesture of the unknown interrogated him, without a 
 word being pronounced. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Cropole, "I come to ask how — what 
 ought I to say: your lordship, Monsieur le Comte, or Mon- 
 sieur le Marquis?" 
 
 "Say monsieur, and speak quickly," replied the un- 
 known, with that haughty accent which admits of neither 
 discussion nor reply. 
 
 "I came, then, to inquire how monsieur had passed the 
 night, and if monsieur intended to keep this apartment?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Monsieur, something has happened upon which we 
 could not reckon." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "His Majesty Louis XIV. will enter our city to-day, and 
 will remain here one day, perhaps two." 
 
 Great astonishment was painted on the countenance of 
 the unknown. 
 
 "The King of France coming to Blois?" 
 
 "He is on the road, monsieur." 
 
 "Then there is the stronger reason for my remaining," 
 said the unknown. 
 
36 THE VICOMTE DE ERAGELON-NE. 
 
 "Very well; but will monsieur keep all the apartments?" 
 
 "I do not understand you. Why should I require less 
 to-day than yesterday?" 
 
 "Because, monsieur, your lordship will permit me to say, 
 yesterday I did not think proper, when you chose your 
 lodging, to fix any price that might have made your lord- 
 ship believe that I prejudged your resources; while to- 
 day " 
 
 The unknown colored; the idea at once struck him that 
 he was supposed to be poor, and was being insulted. 
 
 "While to-day," replied he coldly, "you do prejudge." 
 
 "Monsieur, I am a well-meaning man, thank God! and 
 simple hotelier as I am, there is in me the blood of a gen- 
 tleman. My father was a servant and officer of the late 
 Marechal d'Ancre. God rest his soul!" 
 
 "I do not contest that point with you; I only wish to 
 know, and that quickly, to what your questions tend?" 
 
 "You are too reasonable, monsieur, not to comprehend 
 that our city is small, that the court is about to invade it, 
 that the houses will be 6verflowing with inhabitants, and 
 that lodgings will, consequently, obtain considerable prices." 
 
 Again the unknown colored. "Name your terms," said 
 he. 
 
 "I name them with scruple, monsieur, because I seek an 
 honest gain, and that I wish to carry on my business with- 
 out being uncivil or extravagant in my demands. Now, the 
 room you occupy is considerable, and you are alone." 
 
 "That is my business." 
 
 "Oh! certainly. I do not mean to turn monsieur out." 
 
 The blood rushed to the temples of the unknown; he 
 darted at poor Cropole, the descendant of one of the officers 
 of the Marechal d'Ancre, a glance that would have crushed 
 'him down to beneath that famous chimney-slab if Cropole 
 had not been nailed to the spot by the question of his own 
 proper interests. 
 
 "Do you desire me to go?" said he. "Explain yourself 
 — but quickly." 
 
 "Monsieur, monsieur, you do not understand me. It is 
 very delicate — I know — that which I am doing. I express 
 myself badly, or, perhaps, as monsieur is a foreigner, which 
 I perceive by his accent " 
 
 In fact, the unknown spoke with that slight defect which 
 is the principal character of English accentuation, even 
 among men who speak the "F^^h language vith th3 sreat 
 est purity. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 37 
 
 "As monsieur is a foreigner, I say, it is perhaps he who 
 does not catch my exact meaning. I wish for monsieur to 
 give up one or two of the apartments he occupies, which 
 would diminish his expenses and ease my conscience. In- 
 deed, it is hard to increase unreasonably the price of the 
 chambers, when one has had the honor to let them at a 
 reasonable price. " 
 
 "How much does the hire amount to since yesterday?'* 
 
 "Monsieur, to one louis, with refreshments and the 
 charge for the horse." 
 
 "Very well; and that of to-day?" 
 
 "Ah! there is the difficulty. This is the day of the 
 king's arrival; if the court comes to sleep here, the charge 
 of the day is reckoned. From, that it results that three 
 chambers, at two louis each, make six louis. Two louis, 
 monsieur, are not much; but six louis make a great deal." 
 
 The unknown, from red, as we have seen him, became 
 very pale. 
 
 He drew from his pocket, with heroic bravery, a purse 
 embroidered with a coat of arms, which he carefully con- 
 cealed in the hollow of his hand. This purse was of a thin- 
 ness, a flabbiness, a hollowness, which did not escape the 
 eye of Cropole. 
 
 The unknown emptied the purse into his hand. It con • 
 tained three double louis, which amounted to the six louis 
 demanded by the host. 
 
 But it was seven that Cropole had required. 
 
 He looked, therefore, at the unknown, as much as to say, 
 "And then?" 
 
 "There remains one louis, does there not, Master 
 Hotelier?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, but " 
 
 The unknown plunged his hand into the pocket of his 
 haut-de-chausse, and emptied it. It contained a small 
 pocketbook, a gold key, and some silver. With this change 
 he made up a louis. 
 
 "Thank you, monsieur," said Cropole. "It now only 
 remains for me to ask whether monsieur intends to occupy 
 his apartments to-morrow, in which case I will reserve them 
 for him; whereas, if monsieur does not mean to do so, I 
 will promise them to some of the king's people who are 
 coming." 
 
 "That is but right," said the unknown, after a long 
 silence; "but as 1 have no more money, as you have seen, 
 and as I yet must retain the apartments, you must either 
 sell this diamond in the cii.Y* or hold it in pledge." 
 
38 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONTSE. 
 
 Cropole looked at the diamond so long that the unknown 
 said, hastily: 
 
 "I prefer your selling it, monsieur; for it is worth three 
 hundred pistoles. A Jew — are there any Jews in Blois? — 
 would give you two hundred or a hundred and fifty for it — 
 take whatever may be offered for it, if it be no more than 
 the price of your lodging. Be gone!" 
 
 "Oh! monsieur," replied Cropole, ashamed of the sudden 
 inferiority which the unknown retorted upon him by this 
 noble and disinterested confidence, as well as by the un- 
 alterable patience opposed to so many suspicions and eva- 
 sions. "Oh! monsieur, I hope peopl are not so dishonest 
 at Blois as you seem to think; and that the diamond, being 
 worth what you say " 
 
 The unknown here again darted at Cropole one of his 
 withering glances. 
 
 "I really do not understand diamonds, monsieur, I assure 
 you!" cried he. 
 
 "But the jewelers do; ask them," said the unknown. 
 "Now I believe our accounts are settled, are they not, Mon- 
 sieur l'Hotelier?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, and to my profound regret; for I fear I 
 have offended monsieur." 
 
 "Not at all," replied the unknown, with ineffable majesty. 
 
 "Or have appeared to be extortionate with a noble 
 traveler. Consider, monsieur, the peculiarity of the case." 
 
 "Say no more about it, I desire; and leave me to myself." 
 
 Cropole bowed profoundly, and left the room with a 
 stupefied air, which announced that he had a good heart, 
 and felt genuine remorse. 
 
 The unknown himself shut the door after him, and, when 
 left alone, looked mournfully at the bottom of the purse, 
 from which he had taken a small silken bag containing the 
 diamond, his last resource. 
 
 He dwelt likewise upon the imptiness of his pockets, 
 turned over the papers in his pocketbook, and convinced 
 himself of the state of absolute destitution in which he was 
 about to be plunged. 
 
 He raised his eyes toward heaven, with a sublime emo- 
 tion of despairing calmness, brushed off with his hand some 
 drops of sweat which trickled over his noble brow, and then 
 cast down upon the earth a look which just before had been 
 impressed with almost divine majesty. 
 
 That the storm had passed far from him, perhaps lie had 
 prayed in the bottom of his soul. 
 
THE VLCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 39 
 
 He drew near to the window, resumed his place in the 
 balcony, and remained there, motionless, annihilated, dead, 
 till the moment when, the heavens beginning to darken, 
 the first flambeaus traversed the embalmed street, and gave 
 the signal for illumination to all the windows of the city. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PARRY. 
 
 While the unknown was viewing these lights with inter-' 
 est, and lending an ear to the various noises, Master Cro- 
 pole entered his apartment, followed by two attendants, 
 who laid the cloth for his meal. 
 
 The stranger did not pay them the least attention; but 
 Cropole, approaching him respectfully, whispered: 
 
 "Monsieur, the diamond has been valued." 
 
 "Ah!" said the traveler. "Well?" 
 
 "Well, monsieur, the jeweler of S. A. R. gives two hun- 
 dred and eighty pistoles for it." 
 
 "Have you them?" 
 
 "I thought it best to take them, monsieur; nevertheless, 
 I made it a condition of the bargain that if monsieur wished 
 to keep his diamond, it should be held till monsieur was 
 again in funds." 
 
 "Oh, no, not at all; I told you to sell it." 
 
 "Then I have obeyed, or nearly so, since, without having 
 definitely sold it, I have touched the money." 
 
 "Pay yourself," added the unknown. 
 
 "I will do so, monsieur, since you so positively require it." 
 
 A sad smile passed over the lips of the gentleman. 
 
 "Place the money on that trunk," said he, turning round 
 and pointing to the piece of furniture. 
 
 Cropole deposited a tolerably large bag as directed, after 
 having taken from it the amount of his reckoning. 
 
 "Now," said he, "I hope monsieur will not give me the 
 pain of not taking any supper. Dinner has already been 
 refused; this is affronting to the house of les Medici. Look, 
 monsieur, the supper is on the table, and I venture to say 
 that it is not a bad one." 
 
 The unknown asked for a glass of wine, broke off a mor- 
 sel of bread, and did not stir from the window while he eat 
 and drank. 
 
 Shortly after was heard a loud flourish of trumpets; cries 
 
40 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 arose in the distance, a confused buzzing filled the lowei 
 part of the city, and the first distinct sound that struck the 
 ears of the stranger was the tramp of advancing horses. 
 
 "The king! the king!" repeated a noisy and eager crowd. 
 
 "The king!" cried Cropole, abandoning his guest and his 
 ideas of delicacy to satisfy his curiosity. 
 
 With Cropole were mingled, and jostled, on the staircase, 
 Mme. Cropole, Pittrino, and the waiters and scullions. 
 
 The cortege advanced slowly, lighted by a thousand flam- 
 beaus, in the streets and from the windows. 
 
 After a company of musketeers, and a closely ranked 
 troop of gentlemen, came the litter of M. le Cardinal, drawn 
 like a carriage by four black horses. The pages and people 
 of the cardinal marched behind. 
 
 Next came the carriage of the queen-mother, with her 
 maids of honor at the doors, her gentlemen on horseback at 
 both sides. 
 
 The king then appeared, mounted upon a splendid horse 
 of Saxon race, with a flowing mane. The young prince ex- 
 hibited, when bowing to some windows from which issued 
 the most animated acclamations, a noble an. handsome 
 countenance, illumined by the flambeaus of his pages. 
 
 By the side of the king, though a little in the rear, the 
 Priuce de Conde, M. Dangeau, and twenty other courtiers, 
 followed by their people and their baggage, closed this 
 veritably triumphant march. The pomp was of a military 
 character. 
 
 Some of the courtiers — the elder ones, for instance — wore 
 traveling-dresses; but all the rest were clothed in warlike 
 panoply. Many wore the gorget and buff coat of the times 
 of Henry IV. and Louis XIII. 
 
 When the king passed before him, the unknown, who 
 had leaned forward over the balcony to obtain a better view, 
 and who had concealed his face by leaning on his arm, felt 
 his heart swell and overflow with a bitter jealousy. 
 
 The noise of the trumpets excited him — the popular 
 acclamations deafened him; for a moment he allowed his 
 reason to be absorbed in this flood of lights, tumult, and 
 brilliant images. 
 
 "He is a king!" murmured he, in an accent of despair. 
 
 Then, before he had recovered from his somber reverie, 
 all the noise, all the splendor, had passed away. At the 
 angle of the street there remained nothing beneath the 
 stranger but a few hoarse., discordant voices, shouting at 
 intervals, " Vive le Roil" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONN'E. 41 
 
 There remained likewise the six candles held by the in- 
 habitants of the hostelry les Medici, that is to say, two for 
 Cropole, two for Pittrino, and one for each scullion. Cro- 
 pole never ceased repeating, "How good-looking the king 
 is! How strongly he resembles his illustrious fi.ther!" 
 
 "A handsome likeness!" said Pittrino. 
 
 "And what a lofty carriage he has!" added Mme. Cro- 
 pole, already in promiscuous commentary with her neigh- 
 bors of both sexes. 
 
 Cropole was feeding their gossip with his own personal 
 remarks, without observing that an old man on foot, but 
 leading a small Irish horse by the bridle, was endeavoring 
 to penetrate the crowd of men and women which blocked 
 up the entrance to the Medici. But at that moment the 
 voice of the stranger was heard from the window. 
 
 "Make way, Monsieur l'Hotelier, to the entrance of your 
 house!" 
 
 Cropole turned round, and, on seeing the old man, 
 cleared a passage for him. 
 
 The window was instantly closed. 
 
 Pittrino pointed out the way to the newly arrived guest, 
 who entered without uttering a word. 
 
 The stranger waited for him on the landing; he opened 
 his arms to the old man, and led him to a seat. 
 
 "Oh, no, no, my lord!" said he. "Sit down in your 
 presence? — never!" 
 
 "Parry," cried the gentleman, "I beg you will; you come 
 from England — you come so far. Ah! it is not for your 
 age to undergo the fatigues my service requires. Rest 
 yourself." 
 
 "I have my reply to give your lordship, in the first place." 
 
 "Parry, I conjure you to tell me nothing; for if your 
 news had been good you would not have begun in such a 
 manner; you go about, which proves that the news is bad." 
 ! "My lord," said the old man, "do not hasten to alarm 
 yourself; all is not lost, I hope. You must employ energy, 
 but more particularly resignation." 
 
 "Parry," said the young man, "I have reached this place 
 through a thousand snares, and after a thousand difficulties; 
 can you doubt my energy? I have meditated this journey 
 ten years, in spite of all counsels and all obstacles — have 
 you faith in my perseverance? I have this evening sold 
 the last of my father's diamonds; for I had nothing where- 
 witii to pay for my lodging, and my host was about to turn 
 me out." 
 
42 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Parry made a gesture of indignation, to which the young 
 man replied by a pressure of the hand and a smile. 
 
 "I have still two hundred and seventy -four pistoles left, 
 and I feel myself rich. I do not despair, Parry; have you 
 faith in my resignation?" 
 
 The old man raised his trembling hands toward heaven. 
 
 "Let me know," said the stranger — "disguiss nothing 
 from me — what has happened?" 
 
 "My recital will be short, my lord; but in the name of 
 heaven do not tremble so!" 
 
 "It is impatience, Parry. Come, what did the general 
 say to you?" 
 
 "At first the general would not receive me." 
 
 "He took you for a spy?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord; but I wrote him a letter." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "He received it, and read it, my lord." 
 
 "Did that letter thoroughly explain my position and my 
 views?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Parry, with a sad smile; "it painted your 
 thoughts faithfully." 
 
 "Well— then, Parry?" 
 
 "Then the general sent me back the letter by an aid-de- 
 camp, informing me that if I were found the next day 
 within the circumspection of his command he would have 
 me arrested." 
 
 "Arrested!" murmured the young man. "What! arrest 
 you, my most faithful servant?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord." 
 
 "And notwithstanding you had signed the name Parry!" 
 
 "To all my letters, my lord; and the aid-de-camp had 
 known me at St. James', and at Whitehall, too," added the 
 old man, with a sigh. 
 
 The young man leaned forward, thoughtful and sad. 
 
 "Ay, that's what he did before his people," said he, en- 
 deavoring to cheat himself with hopes. "But, privately — ■ 
 between you and him — what did he do? Answer!" 
 
 "Alas! my lord, he sent to me four cavaliers, who gave 
 me the horse with which you just now saw me come back. 
 These cavaliers conducted me, in great haste, to the little 
 port of Tenby, threw me, rather than embarked me, into a 
 fishing-boat about to sail for Brittany, and here I am." 
 
 "Oh!" sighed the young man, clasping his neck convul- 
 sively with his hand, and with a sob. "Parry, is that all? 
 —is that all?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 43 
 
 "Yes, my lord; that is all." 
 
 After this brief reply ensued a long interval of silence, 
 broken only by the convulsive beating of the heel of the 
 young man on the floor. 
 
 The old man endeavored to change the conversation; it 
 was leading to thoughts much too sinister. 
 
 "My lord," said he, "what is the meaning of all tne 
 noise which preceded me? What are these people crying 
 ' Vive le Roi!' for? What king do they mean, and what are 
 all these lights for?" 
 
 "Ah ! Parry," replied the young man ironically, "don't 
 you know that the King of France is visiting his good city 
 of Blois ? All those trumpets are his, all those gilded hous- 
 ings are his, all those gentlemen wear swords that are his. 
 His mother precedes him in a carriage magnificently in- 
 crusted with silver and gold. Happy mother ! His minister 
 heaps up millions, and conducts him to a rich bride. Then 
 all these people rejoice ; they love their king, they hail him 
 with their acclamations, and they cry, Vive U Roi!' 
 
 "Well, well, my lord," said Parry, more uneasy at the 
 turn the conversation had taken than at the other. 
 
 "You know," resumed the unknown, "that my mother 
 and my sister, while all this is going on in honor of the 
 King of France, have neither money nor bread ; you know 
 that I myself shall be poor and degraded within a fortnight, 
 when all Europe will become acquainted with what you 
 have told me. Parry, are there not examples in which a 
 
 man of my condition should himself " 
 
 "My lord, in the name of Heaven " 
 
 "You are right,Parry ; Iamacoward, and if I do nothing 
 for myself, what will God do ? No, no ; I have two arms, 
 Parry, and I have a sword." And he struck his arm 
 violently with his hand, and took down his sword. 
 "What are you going to do, my lord ?" 
 "What am I going to do. Parry ? What every one in my 
 family does. My mother lives on public charity, my sister 
 begs for my mother ; I have, somewhere or other, brothers 
 who equally beg for themselves; and I, the eldest, will go 
 and do as all the rest do — I will go and ask charity." 
 
 And at these words, which he finished sharply with a 
 nervous and terrible laugh, the young man girded on his 
 sword, took his hat from the trunk, fastened to his shoulder 
 a black cloak, which he had worn during all his journey 
 
44 THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE^ 
 
 and pressing the two hands < f the old man, who watched 
 his proceedings with a look of anxiety: 
 
 "My good Parry," said he, '"order a fire, drink, eat, 
 sleep, and be happy; let us both be happy, my faithful 
 friend, my only friend. We are rich, as rich as kings!'' 
 
 He struck the bag of pistoles with his clinched hands as 
 he spoke, and it fell heavily to the ground. He resumed 
 that dismal laugh that had so alarmed Parry; and while the 
 whole household was screaming, singing, and preparing to 
 install the travelers who had been preceded by their lackeys, 
 he glided out by the principal entrance iuto the street, 
 where the old man, who had gone to the window, lost sight 
 of him in a moment. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHAT HIS MAJESTY KING LOUIS XIV. WAS AT THE AGE OF 
 TWENTY-TWO. 
 
 It has been seen, by the account we have endeavored to 
 give of it, that the entree of King Louis XIV. into the city 
 of Blois had been noisy and brilliant; his young majesty 
 had therefore appeared perfectly satisfied with it. 
 
 On arriving beneath the porch of the Castle of the States, 
 the king met, surrounded by his guards and gentlemen, 
 with S. A. R. the duke, Gaston of Orleans, whose physiog- 
 nomy, naturally rather majestic, had borrowed on this solemn 
 occasion a fresh luster and a fresh dignity. On her part, 
 madame, dressed in her robes of ceremony, awaited, in the 
 interior balcony, the entrance of her nephew. All the win- 
 dows of the old castle, so deserted and dismal on ordinary 
 days, were resplendent with ladies and lights. 
 
 It was then to the sound of drums, trumpets, and vivats 
 that the young king crossed the threshold of that castle in 
 which, seventy-two years before, Henry III. had called in 
 the aid of assassination and treachery to keep upon his head 
 and in his house a crown which was already slipping from 
 his brow, to fall into another family. 
 
 All eyes, after having admired the young king, so hand- 
 some and so agreeable, sought for that other king of 
 France, much otherwise king than the former, and so old, so 
 pale, so bent, that people called him the Cardinal Mazarin. 
 
 Louis was at this time endowed with all the natural gifts 
 which make the perfect gentleman; his eye was brilliant, 
 
THE VICOMTE BE BRAr T ELONNE. 45 
 
 mild, and of a clear azure blue. But the most skillful 
 physiognomists, those divers into the soul, on fixing their 
 Looks upon it, if it had been possible for a subject to sustain 
 bhe glance of the king — the most skillful physiognomists, 
 we say, would never have been able to fathom the depths 
 ipf that abyss of mildness. It was with the eyes of the king 
 las with the immense depth of the azure heavens, or with 
 those more terrific, and almost as sublime, which the Medi- 
 terranean reveals under the keels of its ships in a clear sum- 
 mer day, a gigantic mirror in which heaven delights to 
 reflect sometimes its stars, sometimes its storms. 
 
 The king was short of stature — he was scarcely five feet 
 two inches; but his youth made up for this defect, set off 
 likewise by great nobleness in all his movements, and by 
 considerable address in all bodily exercises. 
 
 Certes, he was already quite a king, and it was a great 
 thing to be a king in that period of traditional devotedness 
 and respect; but as, up to that time, he had been but sel- 
 dom and always poorly shown to the people, as they to 
 whom he was shown saw him by the side of his mother, a 
 tall woman, and M. le Cardinal, a man of commanding 
 ^presence, many found him so little of a king as to say: 
 
 "Why, the king is not so tall as Monsieur le Cardinal!" 
 
 Whatever may be thought of these physical observations, 
 which were principally made in the capital, the young king 
 was welcomed as a god by the inhabitants of Blois and 
 almost like a king by his uncle and aunt, Monsieur and 
 madame, the inhabitants of the castle. 
 
 It must, however, be allowed that when he saw, in the 
 ,hall of reception, chairs of equal height placed for himself, 
 his mother, the cardinal, and his uncle and aunt, a disposi- 
 tion artfully concealed by the semicircular form of the 
 assembly, Louis XIV. became red with anger, and looked 
 laround him to ascertain by the countenances of those that 
 were present if this humiliation had been prepared for him. 
 [But as he saw nothing upon the impassible visage of ths 
 cardinal, nothing on that of his mother, nothing on those 
 of the assembly, he resigned himself, and sat down, taking 
 care to be seated before anybody else. 
 
 The gentlemen and ladies were presented to their majes- 
 ties and M. le Cardinal. 
 
 The king remarked that his mother and he scarcely knew 
 the names of any of the persons who were presented to 
 them; while the cardinal, on the contrary, never failed, 
 with an admirable memory and presence of mind, to talk to 
 
46 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 every one about his estates, his ancestors, or his children, 
 some of whom he named, which enchanted those worthy 
 country gentlemen, and confirmed them in the idea that he 
 alone is truly king who knows his subjects, from the same 
 reason that the- sun has no rival, because the sun alone 
 warms' and lightens. 
 
 The study of the young king, which had begun a long 
 time before, without anybody suspecting it, was continued 
 then, and he looked around him attentively, to endeavor to 
 make out something in the physiognomies which had at first 
 appeared the most insignificant and trivial. 
 
 A collation was served. The king, without daring to call 
 upon the hospitality of his uncle, had waited for it im- 
 patiently. This time, therefore, he had all the honors duie, 
 if not to his rank, at least to his appetite. 
 
 As to the cardinal, he contented himself with touching 
 with his withered lips a bouillon served in a gold cup. The 
 all-powerful minister, who had taken her regency from the 
 queen, and his royalty from the king, had not been able to 
 take a good stomach from nature. 
 
 Anne of Austria, already suffering from the cancer which 
 six or eight years after caused her death, eat very little 
 more than the cardinal. 
 
 For Monsieur, already puffed up with the great event 
 which had taken place in his provincial life, eat nothing 
 whatever. 
 
 Madame alone, like a true Lorrainer, kept pace with his 
 majesty; so that Louis XIV., who, without this partner, 
 might have eaten nearly alone, was at first much pleased 
 with his aunt, and afterward with M. de St. Remy, her 
 ■maitre cVhotel, who had really distinguished himself. 
 
 The collation over, at a sign of approbation from M. d<* 
 Mazarin, the king arose, and, at the invitation of his aunt, 
 walked about among the ranks of the assembly. 
 
 The ladies then observed — there are certain things for 
 which women are as good observers at Blois as at Paris — 
 the ladies then observed that Louis XIV. had a prompt and 
 bold look, which promised a distinguished appreciator of 
 beauty. The men, on their part, observed that the prince 
 was proud and haughty, that he loved to look down those 
 who fixed their eyes upon him too long or too earnestly, 
 which gave presage of a master. 
 
 Louis XIV. had accomplished about a third of his review, 
 when his ears were struck with a word which his eminence 
 pronounced while conversing with Monsieur. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 47 
 
 This word was the name of a woman. 
 
 Scarcely had Louis XIV. heard this word than he heard,, 
 or rather, listened to, nothing else; and neglecting the 
 arc of the circle which awaited his visit, his object seemed 
 to be to come as quickly as possible to the extremity of the 
 curve. 
 
 Monsieur, like a good courtier, was inquiring of M. le 
 Cardinal after the health of his nieces; he regretted, he 
 said, not having the pleasnre of receiving them at the same 
 time with their uncle; they must certainly have grown in 
 stature, beauty, and grace, as they had promised to do the 
 last time Monsieur had seen them. 
 
 What had first struck the king was a certain contrast in 
 the voices of the two interlocutors. The voice of Monsieur 
 was calm and natural while he spoke thus; while that of M. 
 de Mazarin jumped by a note and a half to reply above the 
 diapason of his usual voice. It might have been said that 
 he wished that voice to strike, at the end of the salon, any 
 ear that was too distant. 
 
 "Monseigneur," replied he, "Mesdemoiselles de Mazarin 
 have still to finish their education; they have duties to ful- 
 fill, and a position to make. An abode in a young and 
 brilliant court would dissipate them a little." 
 
 Louis, at this last sentence, smiled sadly. The court was 
 young, it was true, but the avaricg of the cardinal had taken 
 good care that it should not be brilliant. 
 
 "You have, nevertheless, no intention," replied Mon- 
 sieur, "to cloister them or make them bourgeoises ?" 
 
 "Not at all," replied the cardinal, forcing his Italian 
 pronunciation is such a manner that, from soft and velvety 
 as it was, it became sharp and vibrating; "not at all; I 
 have a full and fixed intention to marry them, and that as 
 well as I shall be able." 
 
 "Parties will not be wanting, Monsieur le Cardinal," 
 replied Monsieur, with a bonhomie worthy of one tradesman 
 congratulating another. 
 
 "I hope not, monseigneur, and with reason, as God has 
 been pleased to give them grace, intelligence, and beauty." 
 
 During this conversation, Louis XIV., conducted by ma- 
 dame, accomplished, as Ave have described, the circle of 
 presentations. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Auricule," said the princess, presenting 
 to his majesty a fat, fair girl of twenty-two, who at a village 
 fete might have been taken for a peasant in Sunday finery 
 * "the daughter of my music-mistress." 
 
48 THE VICOMTE DE BRAftELOtfNE. 
 
 The king smiled. Madame had never been able to 
 extract four correct notes from either viol or harpsicjhord. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais," continued madame; 
 "a young lady of rank, and my good attendant." 
 
 This time it was not the king that smiled; it was the 
 young lady presented, because, for the first time in her life, 
 she heard given to her by madame, who generally showed 
 no tendency to spoil her, such an honorable qualification. 
 
 Our old acquaintance Montalais, therefore, made his 
 majesty a profound courtesy, the more respectful from the 
 necessity she was under of concealing certain contractions 
 «f her laughing lips, which the king might not have at- 
 tributed to their real cause. 
 
 It was just at this moment that the king caught the word 
 which startled him. 
 
 "And the name of the third?" asked Monsieur. 
 
 "Mary, monseigneur," replied the cardinal. 
 
 There was, doubtless, some magical influence in that 
 word, for, as we have said, the king started at hearing it, 
 and drew madame toward the middle of the circle, as if he 
 wished to put some confidential question to her, but, in 
 reality, for the sake of getting nearer to the cardinal. 
 
 "Madame my aunt," said he, laughing, and in a sup- 
 pressed voice, "my geography-master did not teach me 
 that Blois was at such an immense distance from Paris." 
 
 "What do you mean, nephew?" asked madame. 
 
 "Why, because it would appear that it requires several 
 years as regards fashion, to travel the distance! Look 
 at those young ladies." 
 
 "Well; I know them all." 
 
 "Some of them are pretty." 
 
 "Don't say that too loud, monsieur my nephew; you will 
 drive them wild." 
 
 "Stop a bit, stop a bit, dear aunt," said the king, smil- 
 ing, "for the second part of my sentence will serve as ai 
 corrective to the first. Well, my dear aunt, some of them 
 appear old, and others ugly, thanks to their ten-year-old 
 fashions." 
 
 "But, sire, Blois is only five days' journey from Paris." 
 
 "Yes, that is it," said the king; "two years behind for 
 each day." 
 
 "Indeed! do you really think so? Well, that is strange! 
 It never struck me." 
 
 "Now, look, aunt," said Louis XIV., drawing still nearer 
 to Mazarin, under the pretext of gaining a better point of 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 49 
 
 view, "look at that simple white dress by the side of those 
 antiquated specimens of finery, and those pretentious 
 coiffures. She is probably one of my mother's maids of 
 honor, though I aon't know her." 
 
 "Ah! ah! my dear nephew!"' replied madame, laughing, 
 ":ermit me to tell you that your divinatory science is at 
 ,:ault for once. The young lady you honor with your praise 
 is not a Parisian, but a Biaisoise." 
 
 "Oh, aunt!" replied the king, with a look of doubt. 
 
 "Come here, Louise," said madame. 
 
 And the fair girl, already known to you under that name, 
 approached them, timid, blushing, and almost bent beneath 
 the royal glance. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Louise Franchise de la Beaume Leblanc, 
 +he daughter of the Marquis de la Valliere," said madame 
 ceremoniously. 
 
 The young girl bowed with so much grace, mingled with 
 the profound timidity inspired by the presence of the king, 
 that the latter lost, while looking at her, a few words of the 
 conversation of Monsieur and the cardinal. 
 
 "Daughter-in-law," continued madame, "of Monsieur de 
 St. Eemy, my maitre d'hotel, who presided over the con- 
 fection of that excellent daube truffee which your majesty 
 seemed so much to appreciate." 
 
 No grace, no youth, no beauty, could stand out against 
 such a presentation. The king smiled. Whether the 
 words of madame were a pleasantry, or uttered in all inno- 
 cence, they proved the pitiless immola ion of everything that 
 Louis had found charming or poetic in the young girl. 
 Mile, de la Valliere, for madame, and b; rebound, for the 
 king, was, for a moment, no more than the daughter of a 
 man of a superior talent over dindes truffees. 
 
 But princes are thus constituted. The gods, too, were 
 just like this in Olympus. Diana and Venus, no doubt, 
 abused the beautiful Alcmena and poor Io when they de- 
 scended, for distraction's sake, to speak, amid nectar and 
 ambrosia, of mortal beauties at the table of Jupiter. 
 
 Fortunately, Louise was so bent in her reverential salute 
 that she did not catch either madame's words or the king's 
 smile. In fact, if the poor child, who had so much good 
 taste as alone to have chosen to dress herself in white amid 
 all her companions — if that dove's heart, so easily accessible 
 to painful emotions, had been touched by the cruel words 
 of madame, or the egotistical cold smile of the king, it 
 would have annihilated her. 
 
50 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. "• 
 
 And Montalais herself, the girl of ingenious ideas, would 
 not have attempted to recall her to life; for ridicule kills 
 beauty even. 
 
 But fortunately, as we have said, Louise, whose ears were 
 buzzing, and her eyes veiled by timidity — Louise saw noth- 
 ing and heard nothing; and the king, who had still his 
 attention directed to the conversation of the cardinal and 
 his uncle, hastened to return to them. 
 
 He came up just at the moment Mazarin terminated b\ 
 raying: "Mary, as well as her sisters, has just set off for 
 Brouage. I made them follow the opposite bank of the 
 Loire to that along which we have traveled; and if I calcu- 
 late their progress correctly, according to the orders I have 
 given, they will to-morrow be opposite Blois." 
 
 These words were pronounced with that tact — that 
 measure, that distinctness of tone, of intention, and reach 
 — which made Del Signor Giulio Mazarini the first comedian 
 in the world. 
 
 It resulted that they went straight to the heart of Louis 
 XIV., and that the cardinal, on turning round at the simple 
 noise of the approaching footsteps of his majesty, saw the 
 immediate effect of them upon the countenance of his 
 pupil, an effect betrayed to the keen eyes of his eminence 
 by a slight increase of color. But what was the ventilating 
 of such a secret to him whose craft had for twenty years 
 deceived all the diplomatists of Europe? 
 
 From the moment the young king heard these last words, 
 he appeared as if he had received a poisoned arrow in his 
 heart. He could not remain quiet in a place, but cast 
 around an uncertain, dead, and aimless look over the as- 
 sembly. He with his eyes interrogated his mother more 
 than twenty times; but she, given up to the pleasure of 
 conversing with her sister-in-law, and likewise constrained 
 by the glance of Mazarin, did not appear to comprehend 
 any of the supplications conveyed by the looks of her son. 
 
 From this moment, music, lights, flowers, beauties, all 
 became odious and insipid to Louis XIV. After he had a 
 hundred times bitten his lips, stretched his legs and his 
 arms like a well-brought-up child, who, without daring to 
 gape, exhausts all the modes of evincing his weariness — ■ 
 after having uselessly again implored his mother and the 
 minister, he turned a despairing look toward the door, that 
 is to say, toward liberty. 
 
 At this door, in the embrasure of which he was leaning, 
 he saw, standing out strongly, a figure with a brown and 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONNE. 51 
 
 lefty countenance, an aquiline nose, a stern but brilliant 
 eye, gray and long hair, a black mustache, the true type of 
 military beauty, whose gorget, more sparkling than a mir- 
 ror, broke all the reflected lights which concentrated upon 
 it, and sent them back as lightning. This officer wore his 
 gray hat with its long red plumes upon his head, a proof 
 that he was called there by his duty, and not by his 
 pleasure. If he had been brought thither by his pleasure — 
 if he had been a courtier instead of a soldier, as pleasure 
 must always be paid for at the same price — he would have 
 held his hat in his hand. 
 
 That which proved still better that this officer was upon 
 duty, and was accomplishing a task to which he was accus- 
 : tomed, was, that he watched, with folded arms, remarkable 
 indifference, and supreme apathy, the joys and ennuis of 
 this fete. Above all, he appeared like a philosopher, and 
 all old soldiers are philosopher? — he appeared above all to 
 comprehend the ennuis infinitely better than the joys; but 
 in the one he took his part, knowing very well how to do 
 without the other. Now he was leaning against the carved 
 door-frame, when the melancholy, weary eyes of the king, 
 by chance, met his. 
 
 It was not the first time, as it appeared, that the eyes of 
 the officer had met those eyes, and he was perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the expression of them; for, as soon as he 
 had cast his own look upon the countenance of Louis XI V., 
 and had read by it what was passing in his heart — that is 
 to say, all the ennui that oppressed him — all the timid de- 
 sire to go out which agitated him — he perceived he must 
 render the king a service without his commanding it — 
 almost in spite of himself. Boldly, therefore, as if he had 
 given the word of command to cavalry in battle, "On the 
 king's service !" cried he, in a clear, sonorous voice. 
 
 At these words, which produced the effect of a peal of 
 thunder, prevailing over the orchestra, the singing, and the 
 buzz of the promenaders, the cardinal and the queen- 
 mother looked at each other with surprise. 
 
 Louis XIV., pale, but resolved, supported as he was by 
 that intuition of his own thought which he had found in 
 the mind of the officer of musketeers, and which he had 
 just manifested by the order given, arose from his chair. 
 "Are you going, my son?" said the queen, while Mazarin 
 satisfied himself with interrogating by a look which might 
 -iave appeared mild if it lied not been_so piercing. 
 
02 THE VICOMTE I>E BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Yes, madame," replied the king; "I am fatigued, an4 
 besides, wish to write this evening." 
 
 A smile stole over the lips of the minister, who appeared, 
 by a bend of the head, to give the king permission. 
 
 Monsieur and madame hastened to give orders to the 
 officers who presented themselves. 
 
 The king bowed, crossed the hall, and gained the door, 
 where a hedge of twenty musketeers awaited him. At the 
 extremity of this hedge stood the officer, impassable, with 
 his drawn sword in his hand. The king passed, and all the 
 crowd stood on tiptoe, to have one more look at him. 
 
 Ten musketeers, opening the crowd of the antechambers 
 and the steps, made way for his majesty. The other ter 
 surrounded the king and monsieur, who had insisted upon 
 accompanying his majesty. The domestics walked behind. 
 This little cortege escorted the king to the chamber destined 
 for him. The apartment was the same that had been occu- 
 pied by Henry III. during his sojourn in the states. 
 
 Monsieur had given his orders. The musketeers, led by 
 their officer, took possession of the little passage by which 
 one wing of the castle communicates with the other. This 
 passage was commenced by a small square antechamber, 
 dark even in the finest days. Monsieur stopped Louis XIV. 
 
 "You are passing now, sire," said he, "the very spot 
 where the due De Guise received the first stab of the 
 poniard." 
 
 The king was ignorant of all historical matters; he had 
 heard of the fact, but he knew nothing of the localities or 
 the details. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, with a shudder. 
 
 And he stopped. The rest, both behind him and before 
 him, stopped likewise. 
 
 "The due, sire," continued Gaston, "was nearly where I 
 stand,- he was walking in the same direction as your majesty; 
 Monsieur de Lorgnes was exactly where your lieutenant of 
 musketeers is; Monsieur de St. Maline and his majesty's 
 ordinaries were behind him and around him. It was here 
 that he was struck." 
 
 The king turned toward his officer, and saw something 
 like a cloud pass over his martial and daring countenance. 
 
 "Yes, from behind!" murmured the lieutenant, with a 
 gesture of supreme disdain. And he endeavored to resume 
 the march, as if ill at ea?e at being between walls formerly 
 defiled by treachery. 
 
 But the king, who avz/pared to wish to be informed, was 
 ct»*posed to gije anoth<» )o«k at„this dismal spot. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 53 
 
 Gaston perceived his nephew's desire. 
 
 "Look, sire," said he, taking a flambeau from the hands 
 of M. de St. Remy, "this is where he fell. There was a 
 bed there, the curtains of which he tore with catching at 
 them/' 
 
 "Why does the floor seem hollowed out at this spot?" 
 asked Louis. 
 
 "Because it was here the blood flowed,' replied Gaston; 
 "the blood penetrated deeply into the oak, and it was only 
 by cutting it out that they succeeded in making it disap- 
 pear. And even then," added Gaston, pointing the flam- 
 beau to the spot, "even then this red stain resisted all the 
 attempts made to destroy it." 
 
 Louis XIV. raised his head. Perhaps he was thinking of 
 that bloody trace that had once been shown him at the 
 Louvre, and which, as a pendant to that of Blois, had been 
 made there one day by the king, his father, with the blood 
 of Concini. "Let us go on," said he. 
 
 The inarch was resumed promptly; for emotion, no 
 doubt, had given to the voice of the young prince a tone of 
 command which was not customary with him. When 
 arrived at the apartment destined for the king, which com- 
 municated not only with the little passage we have passed 
 through, bat further with the great staircase leading to the 
 court: "Will your majesty," said Gaston, "condescend to oc- 
 cupy this apartment, all unworthy as it is to receive you?" 
 
 "Uncle," replied the young king, "I render you my 
 thanks for your cordial hospitality." 
 
 Gaston bowed to his nephew, who embraced him, and 
 then went out. 
 
 Of the twenty musketeers who had accompanied the king, 
 ten reconducted Monsieur to the reception-rooms, which 
 were not yet empty, notwithstanding the king had retired. 
 
 The ten others were posted by their officer, who himself 
 explored, in five minutes, all the localities, with that cold 
 and certain glance which not even habit gives unless that 
 glance belongs to genius. 
 
 Then, when all were placed, he chose as his headquarters 
 the antechamber, in which he found a large fauteuil, a 
 lamp, some wine, some water, and some dry bread. 
 
 _ He refreshed his lamp, drank half a glass of wine, curled 
 his lip with a smile full of expression, installed himself n? 
 his large armchair, and made preparations for sleeping. 
 
54 THE VIC0MTE DE JPcAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH THE UNKNOWN OF THE HOSTELRY OF LES MEDIC, 
 LOSES HIS INCOGNITO. 
 
 This officer, who was sleeping, or preparing to sleep, was, 
 notwithstanding his careless air, charged with a serious re 
 sjsonsibility. 
 
 Lieutenant of the king's musketeers, he commanded all 
 the company which came from Paris, and that company 
 consisted of a hundred and twenty men; but, with the ex- 
 ception of the twenty of whom we have spoken, the other 
 hundred were engaged in guarding the queen-mother, and 
 more particularly the cardinal. 
 
 Monsignor Giulio Mazarini economized the traveling ex- 
 penses of his guards; he consequently used the king's, and 
 that largely, since he took fifty of them for himself — a 
 peculiarity which would not have failed to strike any one 
 unacquainted with the usages of that court. 
 
 That which would not, still further, have appeared, if 
 not inconvenient, at least extraordinary, to a stranger, was, 
 that the side of the castle destined for M. le Cardinal 
 was brilliant, light, and cheerful. The musketeers there 
 mounted guard before every door, and allowed no one to 
 enter, except the couriers, who, even while he was travel- 
 ing, followed the cardinal for the carrying on of his corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 Twenty men were on duty with the queen-mother; thirty 
 rested, in order to relieve their companions the next day. 
 
 On the king's side, on the contrary, were darkness y 
 silence, and solitude. When once the doors were closed, 
 there was no longer an appearance of royalty. All the 
 servitors had by degrees retired. M. le Prince had sent to 
 know if his majesty required his attendance; and on the 
 customary "No" of the lieutenant of musketeers, who was 
 habituated to the question and the reply, all appeared to 
 sink into the •xms of sleep, as if in the dwelling of a good 
 citizen. 
 
 And yet it was possible to hear from the side of the house 
 occupied by the young king the music of the banquet, and 
 to see the windows of the great hall richly illuminated. 
 
 Ten minutes after his installation in his apartment, Louis 
 XIV. had been able to learn, by a movement much more 
 distinguished than marked his own leaving, the departure 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 55 
 
 of the cardinal, who, in his turn, sought his bedroom, 
 accompanied by a large escort of ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 Besides, to perceive this movement, he had nothing to 
 do but to look out at his window, the shutters of which had 
 not been closed. 
 
 His eminence crossed the court, conducted by Monsieur, 
 who himself held a flambeau; then followed the queen- 
 mother, to whom madame familiarly gave her arm; and 
 both walked chatting away, like two old friends. 
 
 Behind these two couples filed nobles, ladies, pages, and 
 officers; the flambeaus gleamed over the whole court, like 
 the moving reflections of a conflagration. Then the noise 
 of steps and voices became lost in the upper floors of the 
 castle. 
 
 No one was then thinking of the king, who, leaning on 
 his elbow at his window, had sadly seen pass away all that 
 light, and heard that noise die off — no, not one, if it was 
 not that unknown of the hostelry Des Medici, whom we 
 have seen go out, enveloped in his cloak. 
 
 He had come straight up to the castle, and had, with his 
 melancho^ countenance, wandered round and round the 
 palace, from which the people had not yet departed; and 
 finding that no one guarded the great entrance, or the 
 porch, seeing that the soldiers of Monsieur were fraterniz- 
 ing with the royal soldiers — that is to say, swallowing 
 Beaugency at discretion, or rather, indiscretion — the un- 
 known penetrated through the crowd, then ascended to the 
 court, and came to the landing of the staircase leading to 
 the cardinal's apartment. 
 
 What, according to all probability, induced him to direct 
 his steps that way, was the splendor of the flambeaus, and 
 the busy air of the pages and domestics. But he was 
 stopped short by a presented musket and the cry of the 
 sentinel. "Where are you going, my friend?" 
 
 "I am going to the king's apartment," replied the un- 
 known, haughtily but tranquilly. 
 
 The soldier called one of his eminence's officers, who, in 
 the tone in which a youth in office directs a solicitor to a 
 minister^ let fall these words: "The other staircasp, in 
 front." And the officer, without further notice of the 
 unknown, resumed his interrupted conversation. 
 
 The stranger, without reply, directed his steps toward 
 the staircase pointed out to him. On this side there wac 
 no noise, there were no more flambeaus. 
 
56 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONlirE. 
 
 Obscurity, through which a sentinel glided like a shadow; 
 silence, which permitted him to hear the sound of his own 
 footsteps, accompanied with the jingling of his spurs upon 
 the stone slabs. 
 
 This guard, was one of the twenty musketeers appointed 
 tor attendance upon the king, and who mounted guard with 
 the stiffness and consciousness of a statue. 
 
 "AVho goes there?" said the guard. 
 
 "A friend," replied the unknown, 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 "To speak to the king." 
 
 "Do you, my dear monsieur? That's not very likely. M 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because the king is gone to bed." 
 
 "Gone to bed already?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No matter; I must speak to him." 
 
 "And I tell you that is impossible." 
 
 "And yet " 
 
 "Go back!" 
 
 "Do you require the word?" 
 
 "I have no account to render to you. Stand back!" 
 
 And this time the soldier accompanied his word with a 
 threatening gesture; but the unknown stirred no more than 
 if his feet had taken root. 
 
 "Monsieur le Mousquetaire," said he, "are you a gentle- 
 man?" 
 
 "I have that honor." 
 
 "Very well! I also am one; and between gentlemen 
 some consideration ought to be observed." 
 
 The soldier lowered his arms, overcome by the dignity 
 with which these words were pronounced. 
 
 "Speak, monsieur," said he; "and if you ask me any- 
 thing in my power " 
 
 "Thank you. You have an officer, have you not?" 
 
 "Our lieutenant! Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Well, I wish to speak to him." 
 
 "Oh, that's a different thing. Come up, monsieur." 
 
 The unknown saluted the soldier in a lofty fashion, and 
 ascended the staircase; while the cry, "Lieutenant, a visit!" 
 transmitted from sentinel to sentinel, preceded the un- 
 known, and disturbed the slumbers of that officer. 
 
 Dragging on his boots, rubbing his eyes, and hooking his 
 cloak, the lieutenant made three steps toward the stranger. 
 
 "What can I do to serve you, monsieur?" asked he. 
 
THE VlCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 57 
 
 "You are the officer on duty, lieutenant of the mus- 
 keteers, are you?" 
 
 "I have that honor," replied the officer. 
 
 "Monsieur, I must absolutely speak to the king." 
 
 The lieutenant looked attentively at the unknown, and in 
 that look, however rapid, he saw all he wished to see — that 
 is to say, a person of high distinction in an ordinary dress. 
 
 "I do not suppose you to be mad," replied he; "and yet 
 you seem to me to be in a condition to know, monsieur, 
 that people do not enter a king's apartments in this man- 
 ner without his consent." 
 
 "He will consent." , 
 
 "Monsieur, permit me to doubt that. The king has re- 
 tired this quarter of an hour; he must be now undressing. 
 Besides, the word is given." 
 
 "When he knows who I am he will recall the word." 
 
 The officer was more and more surprised, more and more 
 subdued. 
 
 "If I consent to announce you, may I at least know 
 whom to announce, monsieur?" 
 
 "You will announce His Majesty Charles II., King of 
 England, Scotland, and Ireland." 
 
 The officer uttered a cry of astonishment, drew back, and 
 there might be seen upon his pallid countenance one of the 
 most poignant emotions that ever an energetic man en- 
 deavored to drive back to his heart. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sire; in fact," said he, "I ought to have recog- 
 nized you." 
 
 "You have seen my portrait, then?" 
 
 "No, sire." 
 
 "Or else you have seen me formerly at court, before I 
 was driven from France?" 
 
 "No, sire, it is not even that." 
 
 "How, then, could you have recognized me, if you have 
 never seen my portrait or my person?" 
 
 "Sire, I saw his majesty, your father, at a terrible 
 moment." 
 
 "The day " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 A dark cloud passed over the brow of the prince; then, 
 dashing his hand across it, "Do you still see any difficulty 
 in announcing me?" said he. 
 
 "Sire, pardon me," replied the officer, "but I could not 
 imagine a king under so simple an exterior; and yet I had 
 the honor to tell vour majesty just now that I had seen 
 
58 THE VICOMTE DE BRA6ELONNE. 
 
 Charles I. But pardon me, monsieur; I will go and inform 
 the king." 
 
 But returning after going a few steps, "Your majesty is 
 desirous, without doubt, that this interview should be a 
 secret?" said he. 
 
 "I do not require it; but if it were possible to preserve 
 it » 
 
 "It is possible, sire, for I can dispense with informing 
 the first gentleman on duty; but, for that, your majesty 
 must please to consent to give up your swori." 
 
 "True, true; I had forgotten that no one armed is per- 
 mitted to enter the chamber of a King of France." 
 
 "Your majesty will form an exception, if you wish it; 
 but then I shall avoid my responsibility by informing the 
 king's attendant. " 
 
 "Here is my sword, monsieur. Will you now please to 
 announce me to his majesty?" 
 
 "Instantly, sire." And the officer immediately went and 
 knocked at the door of communication, which the valet 
 opened to him. 
 
 "His Majesty tho King of England!" said the officer. 
 
 "His Majesty the King of England!" replied 'the valet 
 de chambre. 
 
 At these words a gentleman opened the folding-doors of 
 the king's apartment, and Louis XI V. was seen, without 
 hat or sword, and his pourpoint open, advancing with 
 signs of the greatest surprise. 
 
 You, my brother — you at Blois!" cried Louis XIV., 
 dismissing with a gesture both the gentleman and the valet 
 de chambre, who passed out into the next apartment. 
 
 "Sire," replied Charles II., "I was going to Paris, in the 
 hope of seeing your majesty, when report informed me of 
 your approaching arrival in this city. I therefore prolonged 
 my abode here, having something very particular to com- 
 municate to you." 
 
 "Will this closet suit you, my brother?" 
 
 "Perfectly well, sire; for I think no one can hear ua 
 here." 
 
 "I have dismissed my gentleman and my watcher; they 
 are in the next chamber. There, behind that partition, is 
 a solitary closet, looking into the antechamber, and in that 
 antechamber you found nobody but a solitary officer, did 
 you?" 
 
 "No, sire." 
 
 "Well, then, speak, my brother; I listen to you." 
 
THE VICOMTK PE BRAGELONNE. 59 
 
 "Sire. I commence, and entreat your majesty to have 
 pity on the misfortunes of our house." 
 
 The King of France colored, and drew his chair closer to 
 that of the King of England. 
 
 "Sire/' said Charles II., "I have no need to ask if your 
 majesty is acquainted with the details of my deplorable 
 history." 
 
 Louis XIV. blushed, this time more strongly than before? 
 then, stretching forth his hand to that of the King of Eng- 
 land, "My brother," said he, "I am ashamed to say so, 
 but the cardinal scarcely ever speaks of political affairs be- 
 fore me. Still more, formerly I used to get Laporte, my 
 valet de chambre, to read historical subjects to me; but he 
 put a stop to these readings, and took away Laporte from 
 me. So that I beg my brother Charles tc tell me all those 
 matters as to a man who knows nothing." 
 
 "Well, sire, I think that by taking things from the be- 
 ginning I shall have a better chance of touching the heart 
 of your majesty." 
 
 "Speak on, my brother — speak on." 
 
 "You know, sire, that, being called in 1650 to Edinburg, 
 during Cromwell's expedition into Ireland, I was crowned 
 at Scone. A year after, wounded in one of the provinces 
 he had usurped, Cromwell returned upon us. To meet him 
 was my object; to leave Scotland was my wish." 
 
 "And yet," interrupted the young king, "Scotland is 
 almost your native country, is it not, my brother?" 
 
 "Yes; but the Scots were cruel compatriots for me, sire; 
 they had forced me to forsake the religion of my fathers; 
 they had hung Lord Montrose, the most devoted of my 
 servants, because he was not a Covenanter; and as the poor 
 martyr, to whom they had offered a favor when dying, had 
 asked that his body might be cut into as many pieces as 
 there are cities in Scotia id, in order tha' evidence of his 
 fidelity might be met with everywhere, I could not leave 
 one city, or go into ano'her, without passing under some 
 fragments of a body whi Ji had acted, fought, and breathed 
 for me. 
 
 "By a bold, almost desperate march, I passed through 
 Cromwell's army, and entered England. The Protector 
 set out in pursuit of this, strange flight, which had a crown 
 for its object. If I had been able to reach London before 
 him, without doubt, the prize of the race would have been 
 mine; but he overtook me at Worcester. 
 
 "The genius of England was no longer with us, but with 
 
80 ' Kl£ VICOMTE BSTKRlGEI/ONITE. 
 
 -J 
 
 him. On the 5th of September, 1651, sire, the anniversary 
 of the other battle of Dunbar, so fatal to the Scots, I was 
 conquered. Two thousand men fell around me before 1 
 thought of retreating a step. At length I was obliged to fly. 
 
 "From that moment my history became a romance. Pur- 
 sued with persistent inveteracy, I cut off my hair, I dis- 
 guised myself as a woodman. One day spent amid the 
 branches of an oak gave to that tree the name of the Royal 
 Oak, which it bears to this day. My adventures in the 
 county of Stafford, whence I escaped with the daughter of 
 my host on a pillion behind me, still fill the tales of the 
 country firesides, and would furnish matter for ballads. I 
 will some day write all this, sire. 
 
 "I will first tell how on arriving at the residence of Mr. 
 Norton, I met with a court chaplain, who was looking on 
 at a party playing at skittles, and an old servant who named 
 me, bursting into tears, and who was as near and as cer- 
 tainly killing me by his fidelity as another might have been 
 by his treachery. Then I will tell of my terrors — yes, sire, 
 of my terrors — when, at the house of Colonel Windham, a 
 farrier who came to shoe our horses declared they had been 
 shod in the north." 
 
 "Hoav strange !" murmured Louis XIV. "I never heard 
 anything of all that ; I was only told of your embarkation 
 at Brighthelmstone and your landing in Normandy." 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed Charles, "if Heaven permits kings to 
 be thus ignorant of the histories of one another, how can 
 they render assistance to their brothers who need it?" 
 
 "But tell me," continued Louis XIV., "how, after being 
 so roughly received in England, you can still hope for any- 
 thing from that unhappy country ?" 
 
 "Oh, sire ! since the battle of Worcester everything is 
 changed there. Cromwell is dead, after having signed a 
 treaty with France, in which his name was placed above 
 yours. He died on the 5th of September, 1658, a fresh 
 anniversary of the battles of Dunbar and Worcester." 
 
 "His son has succeeded him." 
 
 "But certain men have a family, sire, and no heir. The 
 inheritance of Oliver was too heavy for Eichard. Richard 
 was neither a republican nor a royalist ; Richard allowed his 
 guards to eat his dinner, and his generals to govern the 
 republic ; Richard abdicated the protectorate on the 22d of 
 April, 1659, more than a year ago, sir*. 
 

 
 tHE VtCOMTE DE BRAGKLONNE, 61 
 
 "Prom that time England is nothing but a tennis-court, 
 in which the players throw dice for the crown of my father. 
 The two n ost eager players are Lambert and Monk. Well, 
 sire, I, in my turn, wish to take part in this game, whero 
 the stakes are thrown upon my royal mantle. Sire, it only 
 requires a million to corrupt one of these players and make 
 an ally of him, or two hundred of your gentlemen to drive 
 them out of my palace at Whitehall, as Christ drove the 
 money-changers from the temple." 
 
 "You come, then," replied Louis XIV., "to ask me " 
 
 "For your assistance; that is to say, not only for that 
 which kings owe to one another, but that which simple 
 Christians owe to one another — your assistance, sire, either 
 in money or men. Your assistance, sire, and within a 
 month, whether I oppose Lambert to Monk, or Monk to 
 Lambert, I shall have reconquered my paternal inheritance 
 without having cost my country a guinea or my subjects a 
 drop of blood, for they are now all drunk with revolutions, 
 protectorates, and republics, and ask nothing better than 
 to fall staggering to sleep in the arms of royalty. Your 
 assistance, sire, and I shall owe you more than I owe my 
 father — my poor father, who bought at so dear a rate the 
 ruin of our house! You may judge, sire, whether I am un- 
 happy, whether I am in despair, for I accuse my own 
 father!" 
 
 And the blood mounted to the pale face of Charles II., 
 who remained for an instant with his head between his 
 hands, and as if blinded by that blood which appeared to 
 revolt against the filial blasphemy. 
 
 The young king was not less affected than his elder 
 brother; he threw himself about in his fauteuil, and could 
 not find a single word of reply. 
 
 Charles II., to whom ten years in age gave a superior 
 strength to master his emotions, recovered his speech first. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "your reply? I wait for it as a criminal 
 waits for his sentence. Must I die?" 
 
 "My brother," replied the French prince, "you ask me 
 for a million — me, who was never possessed of a quarter of 
 that sum! I possess nothing... I am no more King of 
 France than you are King of England. I am a name, a 
 cipher dressed in jleur-de-lised velvet — that is all. I am 
 upon a visible throne; that is my only advantage over your 
 majesty. I have nothing — I can do nothing." 
 
 "Can it be so?" exclaimed Charles II. 
 
 "My brother," said Louis, sinking his voice, "( have un 
 
€2 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOBTNE. 
 
 ^ergono miseries with which my poorest gentlemen ar« 
 unacquainted. If my poor Laporte were here, he would 
 tell you that I have slept in ragged sheets, through the 
 holes of which my legs have passed; he would tell you that 
 afterward, when I asked for carriages, they brought me 
 conveyances half-destroyed by the rats of the coach-houses; 
 he would tell you that when I asked for my dinner, the 
 servants went to the cardinal's kitchen to inquire if there 
 were any dinner for the king. And look! to-day, this very 
 day even, when I am twenty-two years of age — to-day, when 
 I have attained the grade of the majority of kings — to-day, 
 when I ought to have the key of the treasury, the direction 
 of policy, the supremacy in peace and war — cast your eyes 
 around me, see how I am left! Look at this abandonment 
 — this disdain — this silence! While yonder — look yonder! 
 View the bustle, the lights, the homage! There — there you 
 see the real King of France, my brother!" 
 
 "In the cardinal's apartments?" 
 
 "Yes, in the cardinal's apartments." 
 
 "Then I am condemned, sire?" 
 
 Louis XIV. made no reply. 
 
 "Condemned is the word; for I will never solicit him who 
 left my mother and sister to die with cold and hunger — th* 
 daughter and granddaughter of Henry IV. — if Monsieur de 
 Ketz and the parliament had not sent them wood and 
 bread." 
 
 "To die?" murmured Louis XIV. 
 
 "Well!" continued the King of England, "poor Charles 
 [L, grandson of Henry IV., as you are, sire, having neither 
 
 Earliament nor Cardinal de Ketz to apply to, will die of 
 unger, as his mother and sister had nearly done." 
 
 Louis knitted his brow, and twisted violently the lace oi 
 his ruffles. 
 
 This prostration, this immobility, serving as a mark to 
 in emotion so visible, struck Charles II., and he took the 
 young man's hand. 
 
 "Thanks!" said he, "my brother. You pity me, and 
 that is all I can require of you in your present position." 
 
 "Sire," said Louis XIV., with a sudden impulse, and 
 raising his head, "it is a million you require, or two hun. 
 dred gentlemen, I think you say?" 
 
 "Sire, a million would be quite sufficient." 
 
 "That is very little." 
 
 "Offered to a single man it is a great deal. Conviction* 
 aave been purchased at a much lower price; and I should 
 iiave nothing to do but with vonalities." 
 
THE VlCOMTE t>E BRAGELOJTNE. 63 
 
 "Two hundred gentlemen! Reflect! that is little more 
 than a single company." 
 
 "Sire, there is in our family a tradition, and that is, that 
 four men, four French gentlemen, devoted to my father, 
 were near saving my father, though condemned by a parlia- 
 ment, guarded by an army, and surrounded by a nation." 
 
 "Then if I can procure you a million, or two hundred 
 gentlemen, you will be satisfied; and you will consider me 
 your well-affectioned brother?" 
 
 "I shall consider you as my savior; and if I recover the 
 throne of my father, England w\ll be, as long as I reign, at 
 least, a sister to France, as you will have been a brother to 
 me." 
 
 "Well, my brother," said Louis, rising, "what you hesi- 
 tate to ask for, I will e myself demand; that which I have 
 never done on my own account I will do on yours. I will 
 go and find the King of France — the other — the rich, the 
 powerful one, I mean. I will myself solicit this million, or 
 these two hundred gentlemen; and — we will see." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Charles; "you are a noble friend, sire — a 
 heart created by God! You save me, my brother; and, if 
 you should ever stand in need of the life you restore me, 
 demand it." 
 
 "Silence, my brother — silence!" said Louis, in a sup- 
 pressed voice. "Take care that no one hears you! We 
 have not obtained our end yet. To ask money of Mazarin 
 — that is worse than traversing the enchanted forest, each 
 tree of which inclosed a demon. It is more than setting 
 out to conquer a world." 
 
 "But yet, sire, when you ask it " 
 
 "I have already told you that I never asked," replied 
 Louis, with a haughtiness that made the King of England 
 turn pale. 
 
 And as the latter, like a wounded man, made a retreating 
 .movement — "Pardon me, my brother," replied he. "I 
 have neither a mother nor a sister who are suffering. My 
 throne is hard and naked, but I am firmly seated on mj 
 throne. Pardon me that expression, my brother; it was 
 thac of an egotist. I will retract it, therefore, by a sacrifice 
 —I will go to Monsieur le Cardinal. Wait for me, if you 
 please — I will return." 
 
 
64 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ARITHMETIC OF II. DE MAZARIN. 
 
 While the king was directing his course rapidly toward 
 the wing of the castle occupied by the cardinal, taking 
 nobody with him but his valet de cliambre, the officer of 
 musketeers came out, breathing like a man who has for a 
 long time been forced to hold his breath, from the little 
 cabinet of which we have already spoken, and which the 
 king believed to be quite solitary. This little cabinet had 
 formerly been part of the chamber, from which it was only 
 separated by a thin partition. It resulted that this parti- 
 tion, which was only for the eye, permitted the ear the least 
 indiscreet to hear every word spoken in the ,hamber. 
 
 There was no doubt then that this lieutenant of mus- 
 keteers had heard all that passed in his majesty's apartment. 
 
 "Warned by the last words of the young king, he came out 
 just in time to salute him on his passage, and to follow him 
 with his eyes till he had disappeared in the corridor. 
 
 Then, as soon as he had disappeared, he shook his head 
 after a fashion peculiarly his own, and in a voice which 
 forty years' absence from Gascony had not deprived of its 
 Gascon accent, "A melancholy service," said he, "and a 
 melancholy master!" 
 
 These words pronounced, the lieutenant resumed his 
 place in his fauteuil, stretched his legs, and closed his eyes, 
 like a man who either sleeps or meditates. 
 
 During this short monologue and the mise-eii-scene that 
 had accompanied it, while the king, through the long cor- 
 ridors of the old castle, proceeded to the apartment of M. de 
 Mazarin, a scene of another sort was being enacted in those 
 apartments. 
 
 Mazarin was in bed, suffering a little from the gout. But 
 as he was a man of order, who utilized even pain, he forced 
 his wakefulness to be the humble servant of his labor. He 
 had consequently ordered Bernouin, his valet de chambre x 
 to bring him a little traveling-desk, so that he might write 
 in bed. But the gout is not an adversary that allows itself 
 to be conquered so easily; therefore, at each movement he 
 made, the pain from dull became sharp. 
 
 "Is Brienne there?" he asked of Bernouin. 
 
 "No, monseigneur," replied the valet de chambre; 
 "Monsieur de Brienne, with your permission, is gone tc 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELON"NE. 65 
 
 bed. But, if it is the wish of your eminence, he can speedily 
 be called." 
 
 "No; it is not worth while. Let us see, however. 
 Oursed ciphers!" >■ 
 
 And the cardinal began to think, counting on his fingers 
 the while. 
 
 "Oh! ciphers is it?" saidBernouin. "Very well! if your 
 eminence attempts calculations I will promise you a pretty 
 headache to-morrow! And with that please to remember 
 Monsieur Guenaud is not here.'* 
 
 "You are right, Bernouin. You must take Brienne's 
 place, my friend. Indeed, I ought to have brought Mon- 
 sieur Colbert with me. That young man goes on very well, 
 Bernouin, very well; a very orderly youth." 
 
 "I do not know," said the valet de chambre, "but I don't 
 like the countenance of your young man who goes on so 
 well." 
 
 "Well, well, Bernouin! We don't stand in need of your 
 advice. Place yourself there; take the pen, and write." 
 
 "I am ready, monseigneur; what am I to write?" 
 
 "There, that's the place; after the two lines already 
 traced." 
 
 "I am there." 
 
 "Write seven hundred and sixty thousand livres." 
 
 "That is written." 
 
 "Upon Lyons — " The cardinal appeared to hesitate. 
 
 "Upon Lyons," repeated Bernouin. 
 
 "Three millions nine hundred thousand l^res." 
 
 "Well, monseigneur?" 
 
 "Upon Bordeaux, seven millions." 
 
 "Seven?" repeated Bernouin. 
 
 "Yes," said the cardinal pettishly, "seven." Then 
 recollecting himself, "You understand, Bernouin," added 
 he, "that all this money is to be spent?" 
 
 "Eh! monseigneur; whether it be to be spent or put 
 away is of very little consequence to me, since none of these 
 millions are mine." 
 
 "These millions are the king's; it is the king's money I 
 am reckoning. Well, what were we saying? You always 
 interrupt me!" 
 
 "Seven millions upon Bordeaux." 
 
 "Ah! yes; that's right. Upon Madrid four millions. I 
 give you to understand plainly whom this money belongs 
 to, Bernouin, seeing that everybody has the stupid it) to 
 believe me rich in millions. I repel the silly idea. A 
 
66 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE," 
 
 minister, besides, has nothing of his own. _ Come, go on. 
 Rentrees generates, seven millions; properties, nine mil- 
 lions. Have you written that, Bernouin?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "Bourse, six hundred thousand livres; various property, 
 two millions. Ah! I forgot — the furniture of the different 
 chateaus " 
 
 "Must I put of the crown?" asked Bernouin. 
 
 "No, no; it is of no use doing that — that is understood 
 Have you written that, Bernouin?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "And the ciphers?" 
 
 "Stand straight, one under another." 
 
 "Cast them up, Bernouin." 
 
 "Thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty thousand 
 livres, monseigneur." 
 
 "Ah!" cried the cardinal, in a tone of vexation; "there 
 are not yet forty millions!" 
 
 Bernouin recommenced the addition. 
 
 "No, monseigneur; there want seven hundred and forty 
 thousand livres." 
 
 Mazarin asked for the account, and revised it carefully. 
 
 "Yes, but," said Bernouin, "thirty-nine millions two 
 hundred and sixty thousand livres make a good round 
 sum." 
 
 "Ah, Bernouin; I wish the king had it." 
 
 "Your eminence told me that this money was his 
 majesty's." 
 
 "Doubtless, as clear, as transparent as possible. These 
 thirty-nine millions are bespoken, and much more." 
 
 Bernouin smiled after his own fashion — that is, like a 
 man who believes no more than he is willing to believe — • 
 while preparing the cardinal's night-draught, and putting 
 his pillow to rights. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mazarin, when the valet had gone out, "not 
 yet forty millions! I must, however, attain that sum, which 
 1 had set down for myself. But who knows whether I shall 
 have time? I sink, I am going, I shall never reach it! 
 And yet, who knows that I may not find two or three mil 
 lions in the pockets of my good friends the Spaniards? 
 They discovered Peru, those people did, and — what the 
 devil! they must have something left." 
 
 As he was speaking thus, entirely occupied with his^ 
 ciphers, and thinking no more of his gout, repelled by a 
 preoccupation which, with the cardinal, was the most pow- 
 
THE V1C0MTE DE BKAGKELONNE. 67 
 
 erful of all preoccupations, Bernouiu rushed iuto the cham- 
 ber quite in a fright. 
 
 "Well!" asked the cardinal, "what is the matter now?" 
 
 "The king, monseigneur — the king!" 
 
 "How? the king!" said Mazarin, quickly concealing his 
 paper. "The king here! the king at this hour! I thought 
 he was in bed long ago. What is the matter then?" 
 
 The king could hear these last words, and see the terri- 
 fied gesture of the cardinal rising up in his bed, for he 
 entered th'e chamber at that moment. 
 
 "It is nothing, Monsieur le Cardinal, or at least nothing 
 which can alarm you. It is an important communication 
 which I wish to make to your eminence to-night — that is 
 all." 
 
 Mazarin immediately thought of that marked attention 
 which the king had given to his words concerning Mile, de 
 Mancini, and the communication appeared to him probably 
 to refer to this source. He recovered his serenity then 
 instantly, and assumed his most agreeable air, a change of 
 countenance which inspired the king with the greatest joy; 
 and when Louis was seated: 
 
 "Sire," said the cardinal, "I ought certainly to listen to 
 your majesty standing, but the violence of my com- 
 plaint " 
 
 "No ceremony between us, my dear Monsieur le Car- 
 dinal," said Louis kindly; "I am your pupil, and not the 
 king, you know very well, and this evening in particular, as 
 I come to you as a petitioner, as a solicitor, and one very 
 humble and desirous to be kindly received, too." 
 
 Mazarin, seeing the heightened color of the king, was 
 confirmed in his first idea; that is to say, that love thoughts 
 were hidden under all these fine words. This time, polit- 
 ical cunning, keen as it was, made a mistake; this color 
 was not caused by the bashfulness of a juvenile passion, out 
 only by the painful contraction of the royal pride. 
 
 Like a good uncle, Mazarin felt disposed to facilitate the 
 confidence. 
 
 "Speak, sire," said he, "and since your majesty is will- 
 ing for an instant to forget that I am your subject, and call 
 me your master and instructor, I promise your majesty rry 
 most devoted and tender consideration." 
 
 "Thanks, Monsieur le Cardinal," answered the king; 
 "that which I have to ask of your eminence has but little 
 to do with myself." 
 
 "So much the worse!" replied the cardinal; "so much 
 
68 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 the worse! Sire, I should wish your majesty to ask of mi 
 something of importance, even a sacrifice; but whatever it 
 may be that you ask me, I am ready to set your heart at 
 rest by granting it, my dear sire." 
 
 "Wei*, this is what brings me here," said the king, with 
 a beating of the heart that had no equal except the beating 
 of the heart of the minister; "I have just received a visit 
 from mj brother, the King of England." 
 
 Mazarin bounded in his bed as if he had been put in 
 relation with a Leyden jar or a voltaic pile, at the same time 
 that a surprise, or rather a manifest disappointment, in- 
 flamed his features with such a blaze of anger that Louis 
 XIV., little diplomatist as he was, saw that the minister 
 had hoped to hear something else. "Charles II.?" ex- 
 claimed Mazarin, with a hoarse voice and a disdainful 
 movement of his lips. "You have received a visit from 
 Charles II.?" 
 
 "From King Charles II.," replied Louis, according in a 
 marked manner to the grandson of Henr^ IV. the title 
 which Mazarin had forgotten to give him. "Yes, Mon- 
 sieur le Cardinal, that unhappy prince has touched my 
 heart with the relation of his misfortunes. His distress is 
 great, Monsieur le Cardinal, and it has appeared painful to 
 me, who have seen my own throne disputed, who have been 
 forced, in times of commotion, to quit my capital- -to me, 
 in short, who am acquainted with misfortune — to lpave a 
 deposed and fugitive brother without assistance." 
 
 "Eh!" said the cardinal sharply; "why had he not, as 
 you have, a Jules Mazarin by his side? His crown would 
 then have remained intact." 
 
 "I know all that my house owes to your eminence," re- 
 
 flied the king haughtily, "and you may believe well that 
 , on my part, shall never forget it. It is precisely because 
 my brother, the King of England, has not about him the 
 powerful genius who has saved me, it is for that, I say, 
 that 1 wish to conciliate the aid of that same genius, and 
 beg you to extend your arm over his head, well assured, 
 Monsieur le Cardinal, that your hand, by touching him 
 only, would know how to replace upon his brow the crown 
 which fell at the foot of his father's scaffold." 
 
 "Sire," replied Mazarin, "I thank you for your good 
 opinion with regard to myself, but we have nothing to do 
 yonder; they are a set of madmen who deny God, and cut 
 off the heads of their kings. They are dangerous, observe 
 sire, and filthy to the touch after having wallowed in roya, 
 
THE VICOMTL DE BRAGELONNE. 69 
 
 blood and covenantal murder. That policy has never salted 
 me — I scorn it and reject it." 
 
 "Therefore you ought to assist in establishing a better." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "The restoration of Charles '11., for example." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Mazarin, "does the poor prince 
 flatter himself with that chimera?" 
 
 "Yes, he does," replied the young king, terrified at the 
 difficulties opposed to this project, which he fancied he 
 could perceive in the infallible eye of his minister; "h« 
 only asks for a million to carry out his purpose." 
 
 "Is that all— a little million, if you please!" said the 
 cardinal ironically, with an effort to conquer his Italian 
 accent. "A little million, if you please, brother! Bah! a 
 family of mendicants!" 
 
 "Cardinal," said Louis, raising his head, "that family of 
 mendicants is a branch of my family." 
 
 "Are you rich enough to give millions to other people, 
 sire? Have you millions to throw away?" 
 
 "Oh!" replied Louis XIV., with great pain, which he, 
 however, by a strong effort, prevented from appearing on 
 his countenance; oh! yes, Monsieur le Cardinal, I am well 
 aware I am poor, and yet the crown of France is worth a 
 million, and to perform a good action I would pledge my 
 crown, if it were necessary. I could find Jews who would 
 be willing to lend me a million." 
 
 "So, sire, you say you want a million?" said Mazarin. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, I say so." 
 
 "You are mistaken, greatly mistaken, sire; you want 
 much more than that — Bernouin! You shall see, sire, 
 how much you really want." 
 
 "What, cardinal!" said the king, "are you going to con- 
 sult a lackey upon my affairs?" 
 
 "Bernouin!" cried the cardinal again, without appearing 
 'to remark the humiliation of the young prince. "Come 
 here, Bernouin, and describe the account I made you go 
 into just now." 
 
 "Cardinal, cardinal! did you not hear me?" said Louis, 
 becoming pale with anger. 
 
 "Do not be angry, sire; I deal openly with the affairs of 
 your majesty. Every one in France knows that; my books 
 are as open as day. What did I tell you to do just now, 
 Bernouin?" 
 
 "Your eminence commanded me to cast up an account/'' 
 
 "You did it, did you not?" 
 
70 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "To verify the amount of which his majesty, at this 
 moment, stands in need. Did I not tell you so? Be frank, 
 my friend." 
 
 "Your eminence said so." 
 
 "Well, what sum did I say I wanted?" 
 
 "Forty-five millions, I think." 
 
 "And what sum could we find, after collecting all our 
 resources?" 
 
 "Thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty thousand." 
 
 "That is correct, Bernouin; that is all I wanted to know. 
 Leave us now," said the cardinal, fixing his brilliant eye 
 upon the young king, who sat mute with stupefaction. 
 
 "But yet — " stammered the king. 
 
 "What, do you still doubt, sire?" said the cardinal. 
 "Well, here is a proof of what I said." 
 
 And Mazarin drew from under his bolster the paper cov- 
 ered with figures, which he presented to the king, who 
 turned away his eyes, his vexation was so profound. 
 
 "Therefore, as it is a million you want, sire, and that 
 million is not set down here, it is forty-six millions your 
 majesty stands in need of. Well, I don't think that any 
 Jews in the world would lend such a sum, even upon the 
 crown of France." 
 
 The king, clinching his hands beneath his ruffles, pushed 
 away his chair. 
 
 "So it must be, then!" said he; "my brother, the King 
 of England, will die with hunger." 
 
 "Sire," replied Mazarin, in the same tone, "remember 
 this proverb, which I give you as the expression of the 
 soundest policy: 'Rejoice at being poor when your neighbor 
 is poor likewise.' " 
 
 Louis meditated for a few moments, with an inquisitive 
 glance directed to the paper, one end of which remained 
 under the bolster. 
 
 "Then," said he, "it is impossible to comply with my 
 demand for money, Monsieur le Cardinal, is it?" 
 
 "Absolutely, sire." 
 
 "Remember, this will secure me a future enemy, if he 
 succeeds in regaining his crown without my assistance." 
 
 "If your majesty only fears that, you may be quite at 
 ease," replied Mazarin eagerly. 
 
 "Very well, I say no more about it," exclaimed Louis 
 XIV. 
 
 "Have I at least convinced you, sire?" placing his hand 
 upon that of the young kin^. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 71 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "If there be anything else, ask it, sire; I shall be most 
 nappy to grant it to you, having refused this." 
 
 "Anything else, monsieur?" 
 
 "Why, yes; am I not body and soul devoted to your 
 majesty? Bold! Bernouin! lights and guards for his 
 majesty! His majesty is returning to his own chamber." 
 
 "Not yet, monsieur; since you place your good-will at 
 my disposal, I will take advantage of it." 
 
 "For yourself, sire?" asked the cardinal, hoping that his 
 niece was at length about to be named. 
 
 "No, monsieur, not for myself," replied Louis, "but still 
 for my brother Charles." 
 
 The brow of Mazarin again became clouded, and he 
 grumbled a few words that the king could not catch. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 mazaein's policy. 
 
 Instead of the hesitation with which he had accosted 
 the cardinal a quarter of an hour before, there might be 
 read in the eyes of the young king that will against which 
 a struggle might be maintained, and which might be 
 crushed by its own impotence, but which, at least, would 
 preserve, like a wound in the depth of the heart, the re- 
 membrance of its defeat. 
 
 "This time, Monsieur le Cardinal, we have to do with a 
 thing much more easy to be found than a million." 
 
 "Do you think so, sire?" said Mazarin, looking at the 
 king with that penetrating eye which was accustomed to 
 read to the bottom of hearts. 
 
 "Yes, I think so; and when you know the object of my 
 request " 
 
 "And do you think I do not know it, sire?" 
 
 "You know what remains for me to say to you?" 
 
 "Listen, sire; these are King Charles' own words " 
 
 "Oh, impossible!" 
 
 "Listen. 'And if that miser, that beggarly Italian,' said 
 he " 
 
 "Monsieur le Cardinal!" 
 
 "That is the sense, if not the words. Eh! Good heavens! 
 I wish him no ill on that account; every one sees with his 
 passions. He said to you: 'If that vile Italian refuses the 
 
72 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 million we ask of him, sire, if we are forced, for want of 
 money, to renounce diplomacy, well, then, we will ask him 
 to grant us five hundred gentlemen.' " 
 
 The king started, for the cardinal was only mistaken in 
 the number. 
 
 "Is not that it, sire?" cried the minister, with a triumphant 
 accent. "And then he added some fine words; he said, 'I 
 have friends on the other side of the channel, and these 
 friends only want a leader and a banner. When they shall 
 see me, when they shall behold the banner of France, they 
 will rally round me, for they will comprehend that I have 
 your support. The colors of the French uniform will be 
 worth as much to me as the million Monsieur de Mazarin 
 refuses us/ for he was pretty well assured I should refuse 
 him that million. 'I shall conquer with these five hundred 
 gentlemen, sire, and all the honors will be yours.' Now, that 
 is what he said, or to that purpose, was it not? turning 
 those plain words into brilliant metaphors and pompous 
 images, for they are fine talkers, that family! The father 
 talked, even on the scaffold." 
 
 The perspiration of shame stood upon the brow of Louis. 
 He felt that it was inconsistent with his dignity to hear his 
 brother thus insulted, but he did not yet knoAv how to act 
 with him before whom he had seen every one blench, even 
 his mother. At last he made an effort. 
 
 "But," said he, "Monsieur le Cardinal, it is not five 
 hundred men, it is only two hundred." 
 
 "Well, but you see I guessed what he wanted." 
 
 "I never denied, monsie'ir, that you had a penetrating 
 eye, and that was why 1 thought you would not refuse my 
 brother Charles a thing so simple and so easy to grant him 
 as what I ask of you in his name, Monsieur le Cardinal, or 
 rather in my own." 
 
 "Sire," said Mazarin, "I have studied policy thirty years] 
 first, under the auspices of Monsieur le Cardinal de Eiche- 
 lieu; and since, alone. This policy has not always been 
 over honest, it must be allowed, but it has never been un- 
 skillful. Now that which is proposed to your majesty is 
 dishonest and unskillful at the same time." 
 
 "Dishonest, monsieur!" 
 
 "Sire, you entered into a treaty with Cromwell." 
 
 "Yes, and in that very treaty Cromwell signed his name 
 above mine." 
 
 "Why did you sign yours so low down, sire? Cromwell 
 found a good place, and he took itj that was his custom 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKKE. 73 
 
 [ return, then, to Monsieur Cromwell. You have a treaty 
 with him, that is to say, with England, since when you 
 signed that treaty Monsieur Cromwell was England." 
 
 "Monsieur Cromwell is dead." 
 
 "Do you think so, sire?" 
 
 "No doubt he is, since his son Richard has succeeded 
 him, and has abdicated." 
 
 "Yes, that is it exactly. Richard inherited after the> 
 death of his father, and England at the abdication of 
 Richard. The treaty formed part of the inheritance, 
 whether in the hands of Monsieur Richard or in the hands 
 of England. The treaty is, then, still as good, as valid as 
 ever. Why should you evade it, sire? What is changed? 
 Charles wants that to-day which we were not willing to 
 grant him ten years ago; but that was foreseen and provided 
 against. You are the ally of England, sire, and not of 
 Charles II. It was doubtless wrong, in a family point of 
 view, to sign a treaty with a man who had cut off the head 
 of the brother-in-law of the king, your father, and to con- 
 tract an alliance with a parliament which they call yonder 
 the Rump Parliament; it was unbecoming, I acknowledge, 
 but it was not unskillful in a political point of view, since, 
 thanks to that treaty, I saved your majesty, then a minor, 
 the trouble and danger of a foreign war, which the Fronde 
 — you remember the Fronde, sire?" — the young king hung 
 down his head — "which the Fronde might have fatally com- 
 plicated. And thus I prove to your majesty that to change 
 our plan now, without warning our allies, would be at once 
 unskillful and dishonest. We should make war with the 
 aggression on our side; we should make it, deserving to 
 have it made against us; and we should have the appearance 
 of fearing it while provoking it, for a permission granted 
 to five hundred men, to two hundred men, to fifty men, to 
 ten men, is still a permission. One Frenchman, that is the 
 nation; one uniform, that is the army. Suppose, sire, for 
 example, that, sooner or later, you should have war with 
 Holland, which, sooner or later, will certainly happen; or 
 with Spain, which will perhaps ensue if your marriage fails" 
 — Mazarin stole a furtive glance at the king — "and there 
 are a thousand causes that might still make your marriage 
 fail — well, would you approve of England's sending to the 
 United Provinces or to Spain a regiment, a company, a 
 squadron even, of English gentlemen? Would you think 
 that they kept within the limits of their treaty of alliance?" 
 
 Louis listened; it seemed so strange to him that Ma*arin 
 
?4 THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 should invoke good faith, and he the author of so many 
 political tricks, called Mazarinades. "And yet," said the 
 king, "without any manifest authorization, I cannot pre- 
 vent gentlemen of my states from passing over into Eng- 
 land, if such should be their good pleasure." 
 
 "You ought to compel them to return, sire, or at least 
 protest against their presence as enemies in a country allied 
 with you." 
 
 "Well, but come, Monsieur le Cardinal, you who are so 
 profound a genius, try if you cannot find means to assist 
 this poor king, without compromising ourselves." 
 
 "And that is exactly what I am not willing to do, my 
 dear sire," said Mazarin. "If England were to act exactly 
 according to my wishes, she could not act better than she 
 does; if I directed the policy of England from this place, 
 I should not direct it otherwise. Governed as she is gov- 
 erned, England is an eternal nest of contention for all 
 Europe. Holland protects Charles II., let Holland do so; 
 they will become angry, they will fight. They are the only 
 two maritime powers. Let them destroy each other's navy; 
 we can construct ours with the wreck of their vessels, and 
 shall save our money to buy nails with." 
 
 "Oh, how paltry and mean all that is you tell me, Mon- 
 sieur le Cardinal!" 
 
 "Yes, but nevertheless it is true, sire; you must confess 
 that. There is this, still further. Suppose I admit, for a 
 moment, the possibility of breaking your word, and evad- 
 ing the treaty — such a thing sometimes happens, but that 
 is when some great interest is to be promoted by it, or 
 when the treaty is found to be too troublesome — well, you 
 will authorize the engagement asked of you: France — her 
 banner, which is the same thing — will cross the Straits and 
 will fight; France will be conquered." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Ma foil there is a pretty general for us to fight under — 
 chis Charles II. ! Worcester gave us good proofs of that." 
 
 "But he will no longer have to deal with Cromwell, 
 monsieur." 
 
 "But he will have to deal with Monk, who is quite as 
 dangerous. The brave brewer of whom we are speaking, 
 was a visionary; he had moments of exaltation, faintings, 
 during which he ran over or split like a too full cask; and 
 from the chinks there always escaped some drops of his 
 thoughts, and by the sample the whole of his thought was 
 to be made out. Cromwell has thus allowed us more than 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BBAGELONNE. 75 
 
 ten times to penetrate into his very soul, when one would 
 have conceived that soul to be enveloped in triple brass, as 
 Horace has it. But Monk! Oh, sire! God defend you 
 from ever having anything politically to transact with 
 Monk. It is he who has given me, in one year, all the gray 
 hairs I have. Monk is no fanatic; unfortunately he is a 
 politician; he does not split, he keeps close together. For 
 ten years he has had his eyes fixed upon one object, and 
 nobody has yet been able to ascertain what. Every morn- 
 ing, as Louis XL advised, he burns his nightcap. There- 
 fore, on the day when this plan, slowly and solitarily 
 ripened, shall break forth, it will break forth with all con- 
 ditions of the success which always accompany an unfore- 
 seen event. That is Monk, sire, of whom, perhaps, you 
 have never heard — of whom, perhaps, you did not know the 
 name even, before your brother, Charles II., who knows 
 what he is, pronounced it before you. He is a wonder of 
 depth and tenacity, the two only things against which in- 
 telligence and ardor are blunted. Sire, I had ardor when I 
 was young; I always had intelligence. I may safely boast 
 of it, because I am reproached with it. I have done very 
 well with these two qualities, since, from the son of a 
 fisherman of Piscina, I am become first minister of the 
 King of France; and in that quality your majesty will per- 
 haps acknowledge I have rendered some service to the 
 throne of your majesty. Well, sire, if I had met with 
 Monk on my way, instead of Monsieur de Beaufort, Mon- 
 sieur de Ketz, or Monsieur le Prince — well, we should have 
 been ruined. If you engage yourself rashly, sire, you will 
 fall into the talons of this politic soldier. The cask of 
 Monk, sire, is an iron coffer, in the recesses of which he 
 shuts up his thoughts, and no one has the key of it. 
 Therefore, near him, or rather before him, I bow, sire, for 
 I have nothing but a velvet cap." 
 
 "What do you think Monk wishes to do, then?" 
 "Eh! sire, if I knew that, I would not tell you to distrust 
 him, for I should be stronger than he; but with him I am 
 afraid to guess — you understand my word? — for if I thought 
 I had guessed, I should stop at an idea, and, in spite of my- 
 self, should pursue that idea. Since that man has been in 
 power yonder, I am like those damned souls in Dante, whose 
 neck Satan has twisted, and who walk forward, looking 
 behind them. I am traveling toward Madrid, but I never 
 lose sight of London. To guess, with that devil of a man, 
 is to deceive one's self, and to deceive one's self is to ruin 
 
7(5 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 one's self. God keep me from ever seeking to guess what 
 he aims at; I confine myself to watching what he does, and 
 that is pretty well enough. Now, I believe — you observe 
 the extent of the word 1 believe? — / believe, with respect 
 to Monk, ties one to nothing — I believe that he has a strong 
 inclination to succeed Cromwell. Your Charles II. has 
 already caused proposals to be made to him by ten persons- 
 he has satisfied himself with driving these ten meddlers from 
 his presence, without saying anything to them but, 'Be- 
 gone, or I will have you hung.' That man is a sepulcher! 
 At this moment Monk is affecting devotion to the Rump 
 Parliament; of this devotion, observe, I am not the dupe. 
 Monk has no wish to be assassinated — an assassination 
 would stop him in the midst of his operations; and his work 
 must be accomplished; so I believe — but do not believe 
 what Ibelieve,sire; for I say I believe from habit — I believe 
 that Monk is keeping well with the parliament till the day 
 comes for his dispersing it. You are asked for swords, but 
 they are to fight against Monk. God preserve you from 
 fighting against Monk, sire; for Monk would beat us, and 
 I should never console myself after being beaten by Monk. 
 I should say to myself, Monk has foreseen that victory ten 
 years. For God's sake, sire, out of friendship for you, if 
 not out of consideration for himself, let Charles II. keep 
 quiet. Your majesty will make him a little revenue here; 
 you will give him one of your chateaus. Yes, yes — wait 
 awhile. But I forgot the treaty — that famous treaty of 
 which we were just now speaking. Y r our majesty has not 
 even the right to give him a chateau." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; your majesty is bound not to afford hospitality 
 to King Charles, and to compel him to leave France even. 
 It was on this account we forced him to quit it; and yet 
 here he is returned again. Sire, I hope you will give your 
 brother to understand that he cannot remain with us; that 
 it is impossible he should be allowed to compromise us; or 
 I myself " 
 
 "Enough, monsieur," said Louis XIV., rising. "For to re- 
 fuse me a million, perhaps, you have the right; your millions 
 are your own. To refuse me two hundred gentlemen, yon 
 have still further the right; for you are first minister, and 
 you have, in the eyes of France, the responsibility of peace 
 and war. But that you should pretend to prevent me. who 
 am king, affording hospitality to the grandson of Henry 
 IV, y to my cousin-german^ to the companion of my child- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfttE. 11 
 
 hood — there your power stops, and there commences my 
 Will." 
 
 "Sire," said Mazarin, delighted at being let off so cheaply, 
 and who had, besides, only fought so earnestly to arrive at 
 that, ''sire, I will always bend before the will of my king. 
 Let my king, then, keep near him, or in one of hischateaus, 
 the King of England; let Mazarin know it, but let not the 
 minister know it." 
 
 "Good-night, monsieur," said Louis XIV.; "I go away in 
 despair." 
 
 "But convinced, and that is all I desire, sire," replied 
 Mazarin. 
 
 The king made no answer, and retired quite pensive, con- 
 vinced, not of all Mazarin had told him, but of one thing 
 which he took care not to mention to him; and that was, 
 that it was necessary for him to study seriously both his 
 own affairs and those of Europe, for he found them very 
 difficult and very obscure. Louis found the King of Eng- 
 land seated in the same place that he had left him in. On 
 perceiving him, the English prince arose; but at the first 
 glance he saw discouragement in dark letters upon his 
 cousin's brow. Then, speaking first, as if to facilitate the 
 painful avowal that Louis had to make to him: 
 
 "Whatever may it be," said he, "I shall never forget all 
 the kindness, all the friendship, you have exhibited toward 
 me." 
 
 "Alas!" replied Louis, in a melancholy tone, "only 
 sterile good-will, my brother." 
 
 Charles II. became extremely pale; he passed his cold 
 hand over his brow, and struggled for a few instants against 
 a faintness that made him tremble. "I understand," said 
 he at last; "no more hope!" 
 
 Louis seized the hand of Charles II. "Wait, my brother," 
 said he; "precipitate nothing; everything may change; it 
 is extreme resolutions that ruin causes; add another year 
 of trial, I implore you, to the years you have already under- 
 gone. You have, to induce you to act now rather than at 
 another time, neither occasion nor opportunity. Come 
 with me, my brother; I will give you one of my residences, 
 whichever you prefer, to inhabit. I, with you, will keep 
 my eye upon events; we will prepare. Come, then, my 
 jrother, have courage!" 
 
 Charles II. withdrew his hand from that of the king, and 
 drawing hack, to salute him with more ceremony, "With 
 all my heart, thanks!" replied he, "sire; but J have prayed 
 
78 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONHE. 
 
 without success to the greatest king on earth; now 1 will 
 go and ask a miracle of God." And he went out without 
 being willing to hear any more, his head carried loftily, his 
 hand trembling, with a painful contraction of his noble 
 countenance, and that profound gloom which, finding no 
 more hope in the world of men, appeared to go beyond it, 
 and ask it in worlds unknown. The officer of musketeers, 
 on seeing him pass by thus pale, bowed almost to his knees 
 as he saluted him. He then took a flambeau, called two 
 musketeers, and descended the deserted staircase with the 
 unfortunate king, holding in his left hand his hat, the 
 plume of which swept the steps. Arrived at the door, the 
 musketeer asked the king which way he was going, that he 
 might direct the musketeers. 
 
 "Monsieur," replied Charles II., in a subdued voice, 
 "you wb.o have known my father, say, did you ever pray 
 fqr him? If you have done so, do not forget me in your 
 prayers. Now, I am going alone, and beg of you not to 
 accompany me, or have me accompanied further." 
 
 The officer bowed, and sent away the musketeers into the 
 interior of the palace. But he himself remained an instant 
 under the porch to watch the departure of Charles II., till 
 he was lost in the turning of the next street. "To him, as 
 to his father formerly," murmured he, "Athos, if he were 
 here, would say with reason, 'Salutation to fallen majesty!' " 
 Then, reascending the staircase: "Oh! the vile service that 
 I follow!" said he at every step. "Oh! my pitiful master! 
 Life thus carried on is no longer tolerable, and it is at 
 length time that I do something! No more generosity, no 
 more energy! The master has succeeded, the pupil is 
 starved forever. Mordioux ! I will not resist. Come, you 
 men," continued he, entering the antechamber, "why are 
 you all looking at me so? Extinguish these flambeaus, and 
 return to your posts. Ah! you were guarding me? Yes, 
 you watch over me, do you not, worthy fellows? Brave 
 fools! I am not the Due de Guise. Be gone! They will 
 not assassinate me in the little colander. Besides," added 
 he, in a low voice, "that would be a resolution, and no 
 resolutions have been formed since Monsieur le Cardinal de 
 Richelieu died. Now, with all his faults, that was a man! 
 It is decided; to-morrow I will throw my cassock to the 
 nettles." 
 
 Then, reflecting: "No," said he, "not yet! I have om- 
 great trial to make, and I will make it; but that, and ) 
 swear it, shall be the last, mordioux /" 
 
THE VICOMTE BE BRAGELONNE. 79 
 
 He had not finished speaking, when a voice issued from 
 the king's chamber. "Monsieur le Lieutenant!'* said this 
 voice. 
 
 "Here I am," replied he. 
 
 "The king desires to speak to you." 
 
 "Humph!" said the lieutenant; "perhaps this is for what 
 I was thinking about." And he went into the king's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE KING AND THE LIEUTENANT. 
 
 As soon as the king saw the officer enter, he dismissed 
 his valet de chambre and his gentlemen. "Who is on duty 
 to-morrow, monsieur?" asked he. 
 
 The lieutenant bowed his head with military politeness, 
 and replied, "I am, sire." 
 
 "How! you still?" 
 
 "I always, sire." 
 
 "How can that be, monsieur?" 
 
 "Sire, when traveling, the musketeers supply all the posts 
 of your majesty's household; that is to say, yours, her 
 majesty the queen's, and Monsieur le Cardinal's, the latter 
 of whom borrows of the king the best part, or rather the 
 most numerous part, of the royal guard." 
 
 "But in the interims?" 
 
 "There are no interims, sire, but for twenty or thirty 
 men who rest out of a hundred and twenty. At the Louvre 
 it is very different, and if I were at the Louvre I should 
 rest upon my brigadier; but when traveling, sire, no one 
 knows what may happen, and I prefer doing my duty 
 myself." 
 
 "Then you are on guard every day?" 
 
 "And every night. Yes, sire." 
 
 "Monsieur, I cannot allow that — I will have you rest.'' 
 
 "That is very kind, sire; but I will not." 
 
 "What do you say?" said the king, who did not at first 
 comprehend the full meaning of this reply. 
 
 "I say, sire, that I will not expose myself to the chance 
 of a fault. If the devil had an ill turn to play me, you 
 understand, sire, as he knows the man with whom he has 
 lo deal, he would choose the moment when I should not be 
 
80 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 
 
 there. My duty and the peace of my conscience before 
 everything, sire." 
 
 "But such duty will kill you, monsieur." 
 
 "Eh! sire, I have performed it thirty years, and in all 
 France and Navarre there is not a man in better health 
 than I am. Moreover, I entreat you, sire, not to trouble 
 yourself about me. That would appear very strange to me, 
 seeing that I am not accustomed to it." 
 
 The king cut short the conversation by a fresh question. 
 "Shall you be here, then, to-morrow morning?" 
 
 "As at present? yes, sire." 
 
 The king walked several times up and down his cnamber; 
 it was very plain that he burned with a desire to speak, but 
 that he was restrained by some fear or other. The lieu- 
 tenant, standing motionless, hat in hand, leaning on his 
 hip, watched him making these evolutions, and, while look- 
 ing at him, grumbled to himself, biting his mustache: 
 
 "For a demi-pistole, he has not resolution enough! 
 Parole d'honneur! I would lay a wager he does not speak 
 at all!" 
 
 The king continued to walk about, casting from time to 
 time a side glance at the lieutenant. "He is the very spirit 
 of his father," continued the latter, in his secret monologue; 
 "he is at once proud, avaricious, and timid. The devil 
 take his master, say I." 
 
 The king stopped. "Lieutenant," said he. 
 
 "I am here, sire." 
 
 "Why did you cry out this evening, down below in the 
 salons: 'On the king's service! His majesty's musketeers!' " 
 
 "Because you gave me the order, sire." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yourself." 
 
 "Indeed, I did not say a word, monsieur." 
 
 "Sire, an order is given by a sign, by a gesture, by a 
 glance, as intelligibly, as freely, and as clearly as by word 
 of mouth. A servant who has nothing but ears is not half 
 a good servant." 
 
 "Your eyes are very penetrating, then, monsieur?" 
 
 "How is that, sire?" 
 
 "Because they see what is not." 
 
 "My eyes are good, though, sire, although they have 
 served their master long and much; when they have any- 
 thing to see, they seldom miss the opportunity. Now, this 
 evening, they saw that your majesty colored with endeavor- 
 ing to conceal your inclination to gape; that your majesty 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 81 
 
 iooked with eloquent supplications, first at his eminence, 
 and then at her majesty the queen-mother, and at length 
 to the door of the entrance; and they so thoroughly re- 
 marked all I have said, that, they saw your majesty's lips 
 articulate these words: 'Who will get me out of this?' " 
 
 "Monsieur!" 
 
 "Or something to this effect, sire: 'My musketeers V I 
 could then no longer hesitate. That look was for me — the 
 order was for me. I cried out instantly, 'His majesty's 
 musketeers!' And, besides, that is proved to be true, sire, 
 not only by your majesty's not saying I was wrong,, but bj 
 proving I was right by going out at once." 
 
 The king turned away to smile; then, after a few seconds, 
 he again fixed his limpid eye upon that countenance, so 
 intelligent, so bold, and so firm, that it might have been 
 said to be the proud and energetic profile of the eagle in 
 face of the sun. "That is all very well," said he, after a 
 short silence, during which he endeavored, in vain, to look 
 his officer down. 
 
 But, seeing the king said no more, the latter pirouetted 
 on his heels, and made three steps toward the door, mut- 
 tering, "He will not speak! Mordioux ! he will not speak!" 
 
 "Thank you, monsieur," said the king, at last. 
 
 "Humph!" continued the lieutenant; "there only wanted 
 that. Blamed for having been less of a fool than another 
 might have been." And he gained the door, allowing his 
 spurs to jingle in true military style. But when he was 
 upon the threshold, feeling that the king's desire drew him 
 back, he returned. 
 
 "Has your majesty told me all?" asked he, in a tone we 
 cannot describe, but which, without appearing to solicit the 
 royal confidence, contained so much persuasive frankness, 
 that the king immediately replied: 
 
 "Yes; but draw near, monsieur." 
 
 "Now then," murmured the officer, "he is coming to it 
 at last." 
 
 "Listen to me." 
 
 "I will not lose a word, sire." 
 
 "You will mount on horseback to-morrow, at about half- 
 past four in the morning, and you will have a horse saddled 
 for me." 
 
 "From your majesty's stables?" 
 
 "No; one of your musketeers' horses." 
 
 "Very well, sire. Is that all?" 
 i '\4fid you. will accompany Hie," 
 
82 THE VICOafTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 "Alone." 
 
 "Shall I come to seek your majesty, or shall I wait?" 
 
 "You will wait for me." 
 
 "Where, sire?" 
 
 "At the little park gate." 
 
 The lieutenant bowed, understanding that the king h*(1 
 told him all he had to say. In fact, the king dismissed him 
 with a gracious wave of the hand. The officer left the 
 chamber of the king, and returned to place himself philo- 
 sophically in his fauteuil, where, far from sleeping, as might 
 have been expected, considering how late it was, he begar 
 to reflect more profoundly than he had ever reflected before 
 The result of these reflections was not so melancholy as the 
 preceding ones had been. 
 
 "Come, he has begun," said he. "Love urges him on, 
 and he goes forward — he goes forward! The king is nobody 
 in his own palace; but the man perhaps may prove to be 
 worth something. Well, we shall see to-morrow morning. 
 Oh! oh!" cried he, all at once starting up, "that is a gigan- 
 tic idea, mordioux! and perhaps my fortune depends, at 
 least, upon that idea!" After this exclamation, the officer 
 arose and marched, with his hands in the pockets of his 
 justau-corps, about the immense antechamber that served 
 him as an apartment. The wax-light flamed furiously 
 under the effects of a fresh breeze which stole in through 
 the chinks of the door and the window, and cut the salle 
 diagonally. It threw out a reddish, unequal light, some- 
 times brilliant, sometimes dull, and the tall shadow of the 
 lieutenant was seen marching on the wall, in profile, like a 
 figure by Callot, with his long sword and feathered cap. 
 
 "Certes!" said he, "I am mistaken if Mazarin is not lay- 
 ing a snare for this amorous boy. Mazarin, this evening, 
 gave an address, and made an appointment as complacently 
 hs Monsieur Dangeau could have done — I heard him, and 
 .'. know the meaning of his words. 'To-morrow morning, 5 
 said lie, 'they will pass opposite the bridge of Blois. 5 
 Mordioux! that is clear enough, and particularly for a 
 lover. That is the cause of this embarrassment; that is the 
 cause of this hesitation; that is the cause of this order: 
 e Monsieur, the lieutenant of my musketeers, be on horse- 
 back to-morrow at four o'clock in the morning.' Which is 
 as clear as if he had said, 'Monsieur, the lieutenant of my 
 musketeers, to-morrow, at four, at the bridge of Blois, do 
 you understand?' Here is a state secret, then, which I, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 83 
 
 humble as I am, have in my possession, while it is in action. 
 And how do I get it? Because I have good eyes, as his 
 majesty just now said. They say he loves this little Italian 
 doll furiously. They say he threw himself at his mother's 
 feet, to ask her to allow him to marjy her. They say the 
 queen went so far as to consult the court of Rome, whether 
 such a marriage, contracted against her will, would be valid. 
 Oh, if I were but twenty-five! If I had by my side those I 
 no longer have! If I did not despise the whole world most 
 profoundly, I would imbroil Mazarin with the queen- 
 mother, France with Spain, and I would make a queen 
 after my own fashion. But let that pass." And the lieu- 
 tenant snapped his fingers in disdain. 
 
 "This miserable Italian — this poor creature — this sordid 
 wretch — who has just refused the King of England a mil- 
 lion, would not perhaps give me a thousand pistoles for the 
 news I could carry him. Mordioux! I am falling into 
 second childhood; I am becoming stupid indeed! The idea 
 of Mazarin giving anything! ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed 
 in a subdued voice. 
 
 "Well, let us go to sleep — let us go to sleep; and the 
 sooner the better. My mind is fatigued with my evening's 
 work, and will see things to-morrow more clearly than 
 to-day." 
 
 And upon this recommendation, made to himself, he 
 folded his cloak around him, looking with contempt upoD 
 his royal neighbor. Five minutes after this he was asleep 
 with his hands clinched and his lips apart, allowing to 
 escape, not his secret, but a sonorous sound, which rose and 
 spread freely beneath the majestic roof of the antechamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MARY DE MANCINI. 
 
 The sun had scarcely enlightened the majestic trees 01 
 the park and the lofty turrets of the castle with its first, 
 beams, when the young king, who had been awake more 
 than two hours, possessed by the sleeplessness of love, 
 opened his shutters himself, and cast an inquiring look into 
 the courts of the sleeping palace. He saw that it was the 
 hour agreed upon; the great court clock pointed to a 
 quarter past four. He did not disturb his valet de chain* 
 ire, who was sleeping profoundly at some distance; he 
 
84 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 dressed himself, and the valet, in a great fright, sprung up t 
 thinking he had been deficient in his duty; but the king 
 6ent him back again, commanding him to preserve the most 
 absolute silence. He then descended the little staircase, 
 went out at a lateral door, and perceived at the end of 
 the wall a mounted horseman, holding another horse by the 
 bridle. This horseman was not to be recognized in his 
 cloak and slouched hat. As to the horse, saddled like that 
 of a rich citizen, it had nothing remarkable about it to the 
 most experienced eye. Louis took the bridle; the officer 
 held the stirrup without dismounting, and asked his 
 majesty's orders in a low voice. 
 
 "Follow me," replied the king. 
 
 The officer put his horse to the trot, behind that of his 
 master, and they descended the hill toward the bridge. 
 When arrived at the other side of the Loire: 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, "you will please to ride on 
 till you see a carriage coming; then return and inform me. 
 I will wait here." 
 
 "Will your majesty deign to give me some description of 
 the carriage I am charged to discover?" 
 
 "A carriage in which you will see two ladies, and proba- 
 bly their attendants likewise." 
 
 "Sire, I should not wish to make a mistake; is there no 
 other sign by which I may know this carriage?" 
 
 "It will bear, in all probability, the arms of Monsieur le 
 Cardinal." 
 
 'That is sufficient, sire," replied the officer, fully in- 
 structed in the object of his search. He put his horse to 
 the trot, and rode sharply on in the direction pointed out 
 by the king. But he had scarcely gone five hundred paces 
 when he saw four mules, and then a carriage, loom up from 
 behind a little hill. Behind this carriage came another. 
 It required only one glance to assure him that these were 
 ■the equipages he was in search of; he therefore turned his 
 Vidle, and rode back to the king. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "here are the carriages. The first, as 
 you said, contains two ladies with their femmes de chambre ; 
 the second contains the footmen, provisions, and neces 
 saries." 
 
 "That is well," replied the king, in an agitated voice. 
 "Please go and tell those ladies that a cavalier of the corut 
 wishes to pay his respects to them alone." 
 
 The officer set off at a gallop. "Mordiovx!" said he, aa 
 he rods on. "here is a new and an honorable employment, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 85 
 
 I hope! I complained of being nobody. I am the king's 
 confidant; that is enough to make a musketeer burst with 
 pride." 
 
 He approached the carriage, and delivered his message 
 gallantly and intelligently. There were two ladies in the 
 carriage; one of great beauty, although rather thin; the 
 other less favored by nature, but lively, graceful, and unit- 
 ing in the light folds of her brow all the signs of a strong 
 will. Her eyes, animated and piercing, in particular, spoke 
 more eloquently than all the amorous phrases in fashion in 
 those days of gallantry. It was to her D'Artagnan ad 
 dressed himself, without fear of being mistaken, although 
 the other was, as we have said, the more handsome of the 
 two. 
 
 "Madame," said he, "I am the lieutenant of the mus- 
 keteers, and there is on the road a cavalier who awaits you, 
 and is desirous of paying his respects to you." 
 
 At these words, the effect of which he watched closely, 
 the lady with the black eyes uttered a cry of joy, leaned out 
 of the carriage window, and seeing the cavalier approach 
 ing, held out her arms, exclaiming: 
 
 "Ah, my dear sire!" and the tears gushed from her eyes 
 
 The coachman stopped his team; the women rose in con- 
 fusion from the bottom of the carriage, and the second lady 
 made a slight reverence, terminated by the most ironical 
 smile that jealousy ever imparted to the lips of woman. 
 
 "Mary, dear Mary!" cried the king, taking the hand of 
 the black-eyed lady in both his. And opening the heavy 
 door himself, he drew her out of the carriage with so much 
 ardor that she was in his arms before she touched the 
 ground. The lieutenant, posted on the other side of the 
 tcarriage, saw and heard all without being observed. 
 I The king offered his arm to Mile, de Mancini, and made 
 'a sign to the coachmen and lackeys to proceed. It was 
 nearly six o'clock; the road was fresh and pleasant; tall 
 trees with their foliage still inclosed in the golden down of 
 their buds let the dew of morning filter from their trem- 
 bling branches, like liquid diamonds; the grass was burst- 
 ing at the foot of the hedges; the swallows, only a few day? 
 returned, described their graceful curves between thb 
 heavens and the water; a breeze, perfumed by the blossom- 
 ing woods, sighed along the road, and wrinkled the surface 
 of the waters of the river; all these beauties of the day, all 
 these perfumes of the plants, all these aspirations of the 
 taarth toward the heavens,, intoxicated the two lovers, walk 
 
86 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXKE. 
 
 ing side by side, leaning upon each other, eyes fixed upon 
 eyes, hand clasped within hand, and who, lingering as by a 
 common desire, did not dare to speak, they had so much to 
 «ay. 
 
 The officer saw that the king's horse pulled this way and 
 that, and inconvenienced Mile, de Mancini. He took ad- 
 vantage of the pretext of taking the horse to draw near to 
 them, and dismounted, and walking between the two horses 
 he led, he did not lose a single word or gesture of the loversc 
 it was Mile, de Mancini who at length began. 
 
 "Ah, my d?ar sire!" she began, "you do not abandon me, 
 then?" 
 
 "No/' replied the king; "you see I do not, Mary." 
 
 "I had been so often told, though, that as soon as w© 
 should be separated you would no longer think of me." 
 
 "Dear Mary, is it then to-day only that you have dis- 
 covered we are surrounded by people interested in deceiv- 
 ing us?" 
 
 But then, sire, this journey, this alliance with Spain? 
 They are going to marry you!" 
 
 Louis hung his head. At the same time the officer coulc! 
 see in the sun the eyes of Mary de Mancini shine with the 
 brilliancy of a poniard starting from its sheath. "And you 
 have done nothing in favor of our love?" asked the girl, 
 after a silence of a moment. 
 
 "Ah! mademoiselle, how could you believe that? I 
 threw myself at the feet of my mother; I begged her, I im- 
 plored her; I told her all my hopes of happiness were in 
 you; I even threatened " 
 
 "Well?" asked Mary eagerly. 
 
 "Well, the queen mother wrote to the court of Eome, 
 and received as answer that a marriage between us would 
 have no validity, and would be dissolved by the holy father. 
 At length, finding there was no hope for us, I requested to 
 have my marriage with the infanta at least delayed." 
 
 "And yet that does not prevent your being on the road 
 to meet her?" 
 
 "What would you have? To my prayers, to my supplica- 
 tions, to my tears, I received no answer but reasons of state." 
 
 "Well, well?"^ 
 
 "Well, what is to be done, mademoiselle, when so many 
 wills are leagued against me?" 
 
 It was now Mary's turn to hang her head. "Then I must 
 bid you adieu forever," said she. "You know that I am 
 being exiled; you know that 1 am going to be buried alive; 
 you know, still more, that thev want tojmarry me also." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONXE. 87 
 
 Louis became very pale, and placed his hand upcn his 
 heart. 
 
 "If I had thought that my life only had been at stake, 1 
 have been so persecuted that I might have yielded; but I 
 thought yours was concerned, my dear sire, and I stood out 
 for the sake of preserving your happiness/' 
 
 "Oh, yes! my happiness, my treasure!" murmuied the 
 king, more gallantly than passionately, perhaps. 
 
 "The cardinal might have yielded," said Mary, "if you 
 had addressed yourself to him, if you had pressed him. 
 For the cardinal to call the King of France his nephew! do 
 you not perceive, sire? He would have made war even for 
 that honor; the cardinal, assured of governing alone, under 
 the double pretext of having brought up the king and given 
 his niece to him in marriage — the cardinal would have com- 
 bated all wills, overcome all obstacles. Oh, sire! I can 
 answer for that. I am a woman, and I see clearly into 
 everything where love is concerned." 
 
 These words produced a strange effect upon the king. 
 Instead of heightening his passion they cooled it. He 
 stopped, and said, with precipitation: 
 
 "What is to be said, mademoiselle? Everything has 
 failed." 
 
 "Except your will, I trust, my dear sire?" 
 
 "Alas!" said the king, coloring, "have I a will?" 
 
 "Oh!" allowed Mile, de Mancini to escape mournfully, 
 wounded by that expression. 
 
 "The king has no will but that which policy dictates, but 
 that which reasons of state impose upon him." 
 
 "Oh! it is because you have no love," cried Mary; "if 
 you loved, sire, you would have a will." 
 
 On pronouncing these words, Mary raised her eyes to her 
 lover, whom she saw more pale and more cast down than an 
 exile who is about to quit his native land forever. "Accuse 
 ne," murmured the king, "but do not say I do not love 
 you." 
 
 A long silence followed these words, which the young 
 king had pronounced with a perfectly true and profound 
 feeling. "I am unable to think that to-morrow, and after 
 to-morrow I shall see you no more; I cannot think that I 
 am going to end my sad days at a distance from Paris; that 
 the lips of an old man, of an unknown, should touch that 
 hand which you hold within yours; no, in truth, I cannot 
 think of all that, my dear sire, without my poor heart burst* 
 :°ng with despair." 
 
88 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 And Mary de Mancini did shed floods of tears. On his 
 part, the king, affected, carried his handkerchief to his 
 month, and stifled a sob. 
 
 "See," said she, "the carriages have stopped, my sister 
 waits for me, the time is come; what you are about to de- 
 cide upon will be decided for life. Oh, sire! you are will- 
 ing, then, that I should lose you? You are willing, then, 
 Louis, that she to whom you have said, 'I love you/ should 
 belong to another than to her king, to her master, to her 
 dover? Oh! courage, Louis! courage! One word, a single 
 word! Say 'I will!' and all my life is enchained to yours, 
 and all my heart is yours forever." 
 
 The king made no reply. Mary then looked at him as 
 Dido looked at iEneas in the Elysian fields, fierce and dis- 
 dainful. 
 
 "Adieu, then," said she; "adieu life! adieu love! adieu 
 heaven!" 
 
 And she made a step to depart. The king detained her, 
 seized her hand, which he glued to his lips, and despair 
 prevailing over the resolution he appeared to have inwardly 
 formed, he let fall upon that beautiful hand a burning tear 
 of regret, which made Mary start, so really had that tear 
 burned her. She saw the humid eyes of the king, his pale 
 brow, his convulsed lips, and cried, with an accent that 
 cannot be described: 
 
 "Oh, sire! you are a king, you weep, and yet I depart!" 
 
 As his sole reply, the king concealed his face in his hand- 
 kerchief. The officer here uttered something so like a roar 
 that it frightened the horses. Mile, de Mancini, quite in- 
 dignant, quitted t'ie king's arm, got precipitately intf the 
 carriage, crying to the coachman, "Go on, go on, quick!'-' 
 
 The coachman obeyed, flogged his mules, and the heavy 
 carriage rocked upon its creaking axle, while the King of 
 France., alone, cast down, annihilated, did not dare to look 
 either behind or before him. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE KING AND THE LIEUTENANT EACH GIVE 
 PROOFS OF MEMORY. 
 
 When the king, like all the people in the world who are 
 in love, had long and attentively watched the disappearance 
 in the horizon ol the carriage which bore away his mistress; 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 89 
 
 when he had turned and turned again a hundred times to 
 the same way, and had at length succeeded in calming in a 
 degree the agitation of his heart and thoughts, he recol- 
 lected that he was not alone. The officer still held the 
 horse by the bridle, and had not lost all hope of seeing the 
 king recover his resolution. He had still the resource of 
 mounting, and riding after the carriage; they would have 
 lost nothing by waiting a little. But the imagination of 
 ;he lieutenant of the musketeers was too rich and too bril- 
 liant; it left far behind it that of the king, who took care 
 not to allow himself to be carried away by such an excess 
 of luxury. He contented himself with approaching the 
 officer, and in a doleful voice, "Come," said he, ''let us be 
 gone; all is ended. To horse!" 
 
 The officer imitated this carriage, this slowness, this sad- 
 ness, and leisurely mounted his horse. The king pushed on 
 sharply, the lieutenant followed him. At the bridge Louis 
 turned round for the last time. The lieutenant, patient as 
 a god who has eternity behind and before him, still hoped 
 for a return of energy. But it was groundless, nothing 
 appeared. Louis gained the street which led to the castle, 
 and entered as seven was striking. When once the king 
 was returned, and the musketeer, who saw everything, had 
 seen a corner of the tapestry rise at the window of the car- 
 dinal, he breathed a profound sigh, like a man unloosed from 
 the tightest bonds, and said in a low voice: 
 
 "Now, then, my officer, I hope that it is over." 
 
 The king summoned his gentleman. "Please to under- 
 stand I shall receive nobody before two o'clock," said he. 
 
 "Sire," replied the gentleman, "there is, however, some 
 one who requests admittance." 
 
 'Who is that?" 
 
 '"'Your lieutenant of musketeers." 
 
 ''He who accompanied me?" 
 
 J 'Yes, sire." 
 
 '"'Ah!" said the king, "let him come in." 
 
 The officer entered. The king made a sign, and the gen- 
 tleman and the valet retired. Louis followed them with 
 his eyes until they had shut the door, and when the tapes- 
 tries had fallen behind them: "You remind me by your 
 presence, monsieur, of something I had forgotten to recom- 
 mend to you, that is to say, the most absolute discretion." 
 
 "Oh, sh*e! why does your majesty give yourself the trou* 
 ole of making me such a recommendation? It is plain yoa 
 do not know me." 
 
90 THE VICOMTE DE RRAOELONN'E. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, that is true. I know that you are dis- 
 creet; but as I had prescribed nothing " 
 
 The officer bowed. "Has your majesty nothing else to 
 say to me?" 
 
 "No, monsieur; you may retire.'' 
 
 "Shall I obtain permission not to do so till I have spoken 
 to the king, sire?" 
 
 "What have you to say to me? Explain yourself, mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 "Sire, a thing without importance to you, but which 
 interests me greatly. Pardon me, then, for speaking of it. 
 Without urgency, without necessity, I never would have 
 done it, and I would have disappeared, mute and insignifi- 
 cant as I always have been." 
 
 "How! Disappeared! I do not understand you, mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 "Sire, in a word," said the officer, "I am come to ask for 
 my discharge from your majesty's service." 
 
 The king made a movement of surprise, but the officer 
 remained as motionless as a statue. 
 
 "Your discharge — yours, monsieur? and for how long a 
 time, pray?" 
 
 "Why, forever, sire." 
 
 "What, you ace desirous of quitting my service, mon- 
 sieur?" said Louis, with an expression that revealed some- 
 thing more than surprise. 
 
 "Sire, I have that regret." 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 "It is so, however, sire. I am getting old; I have worn 
 harness now thirty-five years; my poor shoulders are tired; 
 I feel that I must give place to the young. I don't belong 
 to this age; I have still one foot in the old one; it results 
 that everything is strange in my eyes, everything astonishes 
 and bewilders me. In short, I have the honor to ask for 
 my discharge of your majesty." 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, looking at the officer, who 
 wore his uniform with an ease that would have created 
 envy in a young man, "you are stronger and more vigorous 
 than I am." 
 
 "Oh!" replied the officer, with an air of false modesty, 
 "your majesty says so because I still have a good eye and a 
 tolerably firm foot — because I can still ride a horse, and my 
 mustache is black; but, sire, vanity of vanities all that — 
 illusions all that — appearance, smoke, sire! I have still a 
 young air, it is true, but I am old at bottom; and within 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 91 
 
 six months I feel certain I shall be broken down gouty, 
 impotent, Therefore, then, sire " 
 
 "Monsieur," interrupted the King, "remember your 
 words of yesterday. You said to me in this very place 
 where you now are, that you were endowed with the best 
 health of any man in France; that fatigue was unknown to 
 you; that you cared not for passing whole days and nights 
 at your post. Did you tell me that, monsieur, or not? 
 Eecall your memory, monsieur." 
 
 The officer breathed a sigh. "Sire," said he, "old age is 
 boastful; and it is pardonable for old men to make the 
 eulogy of those for whom others no longer make it. It is 
 very possible I said that; but the fact is, sire, I am very 
 much fatigued, and request permission to retire." 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, advancing toward the officer 
 with a gesture at once full of address and majesty, "you are 
 not assigning me the true reason. You wish to quit my 
 service, it may be true, but you disguise from me the 
 motive of your retreat." 
 
 "Sire, believe that " 
 
 "I believe what I see, monsieur; I see a vigorous, ener- 
 getic man, full of presence of mind, the best soldier in 
 France, perhaps; and this personage cannot persuade me 
 the least in the world that you stand in need of rest." 
 
 "Ah, sire!" said the lieutenant, with bitterness, "what 
 praises! Indeed, your majesty confounds me! Energetic, 
 vigorous, brave, intelligent, the best soldier in the army! 
 But, sire, your majesty exaggerates my small portion of 
 merit to such a point, that, however good an opinion I may 
 have of myself, I do not recognize myself; in truth I do 
 not. If I were vain enough to believe onty half of your 
 majesty's words, I should consider myself as a valuable, 
 indispensable man. I should say that a servant possessed 
 of such brilliant qualities was a treasure beyond all price. 
 Now, sire, I have been all my life — I feel bound to say it — 
 except at the present time, appreciated, in my opinion, 
 much beneath my value. I therefore repeat, your majesty 
 exaggerates." 
 
 The king knitted his brow, for he saw a bitter raillery 
 beneath the words of the officer. "Come, monsieur," said 
 he, "let us meet the question frankly. Are you dissatisfied 
 with my service, say? No evasions; speak boldly, frankly 
 — I command you to do so." 
 
 The officer, who had been twisting his hat about in his 
 hands,with an embarrassed air, for several minutes, raised his 
 
92 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 head at these words. "Oh, sire!" said he, "that puts me 
 a little more at my ease. To a question put so frankly, I 
 will reply frankly. To tell the truth is a good thing, as 
 much from the pleasure one feels in relieving one's heart, 
 as on account of the rarity of the fact. I will speak the 
 truth, then, to my king, at the same time imploring him to 
 excuse the frankness of an old soldier. " 
 
 Louis looked at his officer with anxious inquietude, which 
 was manifested by agitation of his gesture. "Well, then, 
 speak," said he, "for I am impatient to hear the truths you 
 have to tell me." 
 
 The officer threw his hat upon a table, and his counte- 
 nance, always so intelligent and martial, assumed, all at 
 once, a strange character of grandeur and solemnity. 
 "Sire," said he, "I quit the king's service because I am 
 dissatisfied. The valet, in these times, can approach his 
 master as respectfully as I do, can give him an account of 
 his labor, bring back his tools, render the funds that have 
 been intrusted to him, and say, 'Master, my day's work is 
 Jone. Pay me, if you please, and let us part.' " 
 
 "Monsieur! monsieur!" exclaimed the king, purple with 
 rage. 
 
 "Ah, sire!" replied the officer, bending his knee for a 
 moment, "never was a servant more respectful than I am 
 before your majesty; only you commanded me to tell the 
 truth. Now I have begun to tell it, it must come out, even 
 if you command me to hold my tongue." 
 
 There was so much resolution expressed in the deep-sunk 
 muscles of the officer's countenance that Louis XIV. had 
 no occasion to tell him to continue; he continued, then, 
 while the king looked at him with a curiosity mingled with 
 admiration. 
 
 "Sire, I have, as I have said, now served the house of 
 France thirty-five years; few people have worn out so many 
 swords in that service as I have, and the swords I speak of 
 were good swords, too, sire. I was a boy, ignorant of every- 
 thing except courage, when the king, your father, divined 
 that there was a man in me. I was a man, sire, when the 
 Cardinal de Eichelieu, who was a judge of manhood, 
 divined an enemy in me. Sire, the history of that enmity 
 between the ant and the lion may be read from the first to 
 the last line in the secret archives of your fanily* If ever 
 you feel an inclination to view it, do it, sire; the history is 
 worth the trouble — it is 1 who tell you so. You will there 
 read that the Ijon, fatigue^ harassed, out 9t oreath, at 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 93 
 
 length cried for quarter, and the justice must be rendered 
 to him to say, that he gave as much as he required. Oh! 
 those were glorious times, sire, strewed over with battles 
 like one of Tasso's or Ariosto's epopees'' The wonders of 
 those times, to which the people of ours would refuse be- 
 lief, were everyday occurrences. For five years together, 
 I was a hero every day; at least, so I was told by personages 
 of merit; and that is a long period for heroism, trust me, 
 sire, is a period of five years. Nevertheless, I have faith in 
 what these people told me, for they were good judges. 
 They were named Monsieur de Richelieu, Monsieur de 
 Buckingham, Monsieur de Beaufort, Monsieur de Retz, a 
 rough genius himself in street warfare. In short, the king, 
 Louis XIII. , and even the queen, your august mother, who 
 one day condescended to say, 'Thank you,' I don't know 
 what service I had had the good fortune to render her. 
 Pardon me, sire, for speaking so boldly; but what I relate 
 to you, as I have already had the honor to tell your majesty, 
 is history." 
 
 The king bit his lip, and threw himself violently into his 
 fauteuil. 
 
 "I appear importunate to your majesty," said the lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 "Eh! sire, that is the fate of truth; she is a stern com- 
 panion; she bristles all over with steel; she wounds those 
 she attacks, and sometimes him who speaks her." 
 
 "No, monsieur," replied the king; "I bid you speak — 
 speak, then." 
 
 "After the service of the king and the cardinal, came the 
 service of the regency, sire. I fought pretty well in the 
 Fronde — much less though than the first time. The men 
 began to diminish in stature. I have, nevertheless, led 
 your majesty's musketeers on some perilous occasions, 
 which stand upon the orders of the day of the company. 
 Mine was a beautiful lot then! I was the favorite of Mon- 
 sieur de Mazarin. Lieutenant here! lieutenant there! lieu- 
 tenant to the right! lieutenant to the left! There was not 
 a buffet dealt in France of which your humble servant was 
 not charged with the dealing; but they soon became not 
 contented with France; Monsieur le Cardinal, he sent me 
 to England on Cromwell's account; another gentleman who 
 was not over gentle, I assure you, sire. I had the honor to 
 know him, and I was well able to appreciate him. A great 
 deal was promised me on account of that mission. So, as I 
 did in it quite contrary to all I had been bidden to do, I was 
 
94 THE VIOOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 
 
 generously paid, for I was at length appointed captain of 
 the musketeers; that is to say, to the post most envied at 
 court, which takes the pas over the marechah of France, 
 and with justice; for when the captain of the musketeers 
 is named, the flower and king of the brave is named." 
 
 "Captain, monsieur?" interrupted the king. "You make 
 a mistakeo Lieutenant, you mean to say." 
 
 "Not at all, sire — I make no mistake; your majesty may 
 rely upon me in that respect. Monsieur le Cardinal gave 
 me the commission himself." 
 
 "Well." 
 
 "But Monsieur de Mazarin, aa you know better than any- 
 oody, does not often give, and sometimes takes back what 
 he has given; he took it back again as soon as peace was 
 made and he was no longer in want of me. Certes, I was 
 not worthy to replace Monsieur de Treville, of illustrious 
 memory; but they had promised me, and they had given 
 me; they ought to have stopped there." 
 
 "Is that what dissatisfies you, monsieur? "Well, I will 
 make inquiries. I love justice; and your claim, though 
 made in military fashion, does not displease me." 
 
 "Oh, sire," said the other, "your majesty has ill under- 
 stood me; I no longer claim anything now." 
 
 "Excess of delicacy, monsieur; but I will keep my eye 
 upon your affairs, and hereafter- — " 
 
 "Oh, sire, what a word — hereafter! Thirty years have I 
 lived upon that promising word, which has been pronounced 
 by so many great personages, and which your mouth has, 
 in its turn, just pronounced. Hereafter! that is how I have 
 received a score of wounds, and now I have reached fifty- 
 four years of age, without ever having had a louis in my 
 purse, and without ever having met with a protector in my 
 road — I, who have protected so many people! So I change 
 my formula, sire; and when anyone says to me 'Hereafter,' 
 I reply, 'Now.' It is repose I solicit, sire. That may be 
 aasily granted me. That will cost nobody anything." 
 
 "I did not look for this language, monsieur, particularly 
 from a man who has always lived among the great. You 
 forget you are speaking to the king, to a gentleman who is, 
 I suppose, of as good a house as yourself; and when I say 
 hereafter, I mean a certainty." 
 
 "I do not at all doubt it, sire; but this is the end of the 
 terrible truth I had to tell you. If I were to see upon that 
 table a marechal's baton, the sword of constable, tie crown 
 of Poland, instead of 'hereafter/ I swear to you, sire, that 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 95 
 
 I should still S3y 'Now!' Oh, excuse me, sire! I am from 
 the country of your grandfather, Henry IV. I do not 
 speak often; but when I do speak, I speak all." 
 
 "The future of my reign has little temptation for xrou s 
 monsieur, it appears," said Louis haughtily. 
 
 "Forgetfulness, forgetfulness everywhere!" cried the 
 officer, with a noble air; "the master has forgotten the 
 servants so that the servant is reduced to forget hij mas- 
 ter. I live in unfortunate times, sire. I see youth full of 
 discouragement and fear, I see it timid and despoiled, when 
 it ought to be rich and powerful. I yesterday evening, for 
 example, open the door to a king of England, whose father, 
 humble as I am, I was near to saving, if God had not been 
 against me — God, who inspired his elect, Cromwell! I 
 open, I said, the door, that is to say, of the palace of one 
 brother to another brother, and I see — stop, sire, that 
 presses upon my heart! — I see the minister of that king 
 drive away the proscribed prince, and humiliate his master 
 by condemning to want another king, his equal. Then I 
 see my prince, who is young, handsome, and brave, who 
 has courage in his heart and lightning in his eye — I see him 
 tremble before a priest, who laughs at him behind the cur- 
 tains of his alcove, where he digests all the gold of France, 
 which he afterward stuffs into secret coffers. Yes — I un- 
 derstand your looks, sire. I am bold to madness; but what 
 is to be said? I am an old man, and I tell you here, sire, 
 to you, my king, things which I would cram down the 
 throat of any one who should dare to pronounce them be- 
 fore me. You have commanded me to pour out the bottom 
 of my heart before you, sire, and I cast at the feet of your 
 majesty the bile which I have been collecting during thirty 
 years, as I would pour out all my blood, if your majesty 
 commanded me to do so." 
 
 The king, without speaking a word, wiped the drops of 
 cold and abundant sweat which trickled from his temples. 
 The moment of silence which followed this vehement out- 
 break represented for him who had spoken, and for him 
 who had listened, ages of suffering. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, at length, "you have pro- 
 nounced the word forgetfulness. I have heard nothing but 
 that word; I will reply, then, to it alone. Others have per- 
 haps been able to forget, but I have not, and the proof is, 
 that I remember that one day of riot, that one day in which 
 the furious people, furious and roaring as the sea, invaded 
 the royal palace; that one day, when I feigned to sleep in 
 
98 THE VICOMTE D£ BRAGELONNS. 
 
 my bed, one man alone, naked sword in hand, concealed 
 behind my bolster, watched over my life, ready to risk his 
 own for me, as he had before risked it twenty times for the 
 lives of my family. Was not the gentleman, whose name 
 I then demanded, called Monsieur d'Artagnan? Say, 
 monsieur." 
 
 "Your majesty has a good memory," replied the officer 
 coldly. 
 
 "You see, then," continued the king, "if I have such 
 remembrances of my childhood, what an amount I may 
 gather in the age of reason." 
 
 "Your majesty has been richly endowed by God," said 
 the officer, in the same tone. 
 
 "Come, Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued Louis, with 
 feverish agitation, "ought you not to be as patient as I am? 
 Ought you not to do as I do? Come!" 
 
 "And what do you do, sire?" 
 
 "I wait." 
 
 "Your majesty may do so, because you are young; but I, 
 sire, have not time to wait; old age is at my door, and 
 death is behind it, looking into the very depths of my house. 
 Your majesty is beginning life, its future is full of hope 
 and fortune, but I, sire, I am at the other side of the hori- 
 zon, and we are so far from each other that I should never 
 have time to wait till your majesty came up to me." 
 
 Louis made another turn in his apartment, still wiping 
 the sweat from his brow, in a manner that would have ter- 
 rified his physicians if his physicians had witnessed the state 
 his majesty was in. 
 
 "It is very well, monsieur," said Louis XIV., in a sharp 
 voice; "you are desirous of having your discharge, and you 
 shall have it. You offer me your resignation of the rank 
 of lieutenant of the musketeers?" 
 
 "I deposit it humbly at your majesty's feet, sire " 
 
 "That is sufficient. I will order your pension." 
 
 "I shall have a thousand obligations to your majesty.'' 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, with a violent effort, "I think 
 you are losing a good master." 
 
 "And I am sure of it, sire." 
 
 "Shall you ever find such another?" 
 
 "Oh, sire, I know that your majesty is alone in the world; 
 therefore will I never again take service with any king upon 
 earth, and will never again have other master than myself." 
 
 "You say so?" 
 
 ''I swear so, your majesty." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 97 
 
 :< I shall remember that word, monsieur." 
 
 D'Artagnan bowed. 
 
 "And you know I have a good memory," said the king. 
 
 "Yes, sire; and yet I should desire that that memory 
 should fail your majesty in this instance, in order that you 
 might forget all the miseries I have been forced to spread 
 before your eyes. Your majesty is so much above the poor 
 and the mean, that I hope " 
 
 "My majesty, monsieur, will act like the sun, which looks 
 upon all, great and small, rich and poor, giving luster to 
 some, warmth to others, and life to all. Adieu, Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan — adieu; you are free." 
 
 And the king, with a hoarse sob, which was lost in his 
 throat, passed quickly into the next chamber. D'Artagnan 
 took up his hat from the table upon which he had thrown 
 it, and went out. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE PROSCRIBED. 
 
 D'AkTAGnan had not reached the bottom of the staircase 
 when the king called his gentleman. 
 
 "I have a commission to give you, monsieur," said he. 
 
 "I am at your majesty's commands." 
 
 "AVait, then." 
 
 And the young king began to write the following letter, 
 which cost him more than one sigh, although, at the same 
 time, something like a feeling of triumph glittered in his 
 eyes: • 
 
 "Monsieur le Cardinal: Thanks to your good coun- 
 sels, and, above all, thanks to your firmness, I have sue- 
 ceeded in overcoming a weakness unworthy of a king. You 
 have too ably arranged my destiny to allow gratitude not to 
 stop me at the moment I was about to destroy your work. 
 I felt I was wrong to wish to make my life deviate from the 
 course you had marked out for it. Certes, it would have 
 been a misfortune to France and my family if a misunder- 
 standing had taken place between me and my minister. 
 This, however, would certainly have happened if I had 
 made your niece my wife. I am perfectly aware of this, 
 and will henceforth oppose nothing to the accomplishment 
 
98 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 of my destiny. I am prepared, then, to marry the infanta, 
 Maria Theresa, You may at once open the conference. 
 
 "Your affectionate 
 
 "Louis." 
 
 The king, after reperusing the letter, sealed it himself. 
 ' : This letter for Monsieur le Cardinal," said he. 
 
 The gentleman took it. At Mazarin's door he found 
 Bernouin waiting with anxiety. 
 
 "Well?" asked the minister's valet de chambre. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the gentleman, "here is a letter for his 
 eminence." 
 
 "A letter! Ah! we expected one after the little journey 
 of the morning." 
 
 "Oh! you know, then, that his majesty " 
 
 "In quality of first minister, it belongs to the duties of 
 our charge to know everything. And his majesty prays 
 and implores, I presume." 
 
 "I don't know, but he sighed frequently while he was 
 writing." 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes; we understand all that; people sigh some- 
 times from happiness as well as from grief, monsieur." 
 
 "And yet the king did not look very happy when he re- 
 turned, monsieur." 
 
 "You did not see clearly. Besides, you only saw his 
 majesty on his return, for he was only accompanied by the 
 lieutenant of the guards. But I had his eminence's tele- 
 scope; 1 looked through it when he was tired, and I am sure 
 they both wept." 
 
 "Well, was it for happiness they wept?" 
 
 "No, but for love, and they vowed to each other a thou- 
 sand tendernesses, which the king asks no better than to 
 keep. Now, this letter is a commencement of the execu- 
 tion." 
 
 "And what does his eminence think of this love, which 
 is, by the bye, no secret to anybody." 
 
 Bernouin took the gentleman by the arm, and while as- 
 cending the staircase: "In confidence," said he, in a low 
 voice, "his eminence looks for success in the affair. I 
 know very well we shall have war with Spain; but, bah! 
 war will please the nobles. Monsieur le Cardinal, besides, 
 can endow his niece royally, nay, more than royally. There 
 will be money, festivities, and fireworks — evervbodv wiii be 
 delighted." 
 
 "Well, for my part," replied 'the gentleman, shaking his 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOJOTE. 99 
 
 head, "it appears to me that this letter is very light to con- 
 tain all that." 
 
 "My friend," replied Bernouin, "I am certain of what I 
 tell you. Monsieur d'Artagnan related all that passed to 
 me." 
 
 "Ay, ay! and what did he tell you? Let us hear." 
 
 "I accosted him by asking him, on the part of the car- 
 dinal, if there were any news, without discovering my de- 
 signs, observe, for Monsieur d'Artagnan is a cunning hand. 
 'My dear Monsieur Bernouin,' he replied, 'the king is 
 madly in love with Mademoiselle de Mancini, that is all I 
 have to tell you.' And then I asked him: 'Do you think, 
 to such a degree that it will urge him to act contrary to the 
 designs of his eminence?' 'Ah! don't interrogate me,' said 
 he; 'I think the king capable of anything; he has a head of 
 iron, and what he wills he wills in earnest. If he takes it 
 into his head to marry Mademoiselle de Mancini, he will 
 marry her, depend upon it.' And thereupon he left me 
 and went straight to the stables, took a horse, saddled it 
 himself, jumped upon its back, and set off as if the devil 
 were at his heels." 
 
 "So that you believe, then " 
 
 "I believe that Monsieur the Lieutenant of the Guards 
 knew more than he was willing to say." 
 
 "In your opinion, then, Monsieur d'Artagnan " 
 
 "Is gone, according to all probability, after the exiles, to 
 carry out all that can facilitate the success of the king's 
 love." 
 
 Chatting thus, the two confidants arrived at the door of 
 his eminence's apartment. His eminence's gout had left 
 him; he was walking about his chamber in a state of great 
 anxiety, listening at the doors and looking out of the win- 
 dow. Bernouin entered, followed by the gentleman, who 
 had orders from the king to place the letter in the hands of 
 the cardinal himself. Mazarin took the letter, but before 
 opening it he got up a ready smile, a smile of circumstance, 
 able to throw a veil over emotions of whatever sort they 
 might be. So prepared, whatever was the impression re- 
 ceived from the letter, no reflection of that impression was 
 allowed to transpire upon his countenance. 
 
 "Well," said he, when he had read and reread the letter, 
 "exceedingly well, monsieur. Inform the king that I thank; 
 him for his obedience to the wishes of the queen-mother, 
 and that I will do everything for the accomplishment of his 
 will." 
 
100 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 The gentleman left the room. The door had scarcely 
 closed before the cardinal, who had no mask for Bernouin, 
 took off that which had so recently covered his face, and 
 with a most dismal expression, ''Call Monsieur de Brienne/* 
 said he. Five minutes afterward the secretary entered. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Mazarin, "I have just rendered a great 
 service to the monarchy, the greatest I have ever rendered 
 it. You will carry this letter, which proves it, to her 
 majesty the queen-mother, and when she shall have returned 
 it to you, you will lodge it in portfolio B, which is filled 
 with documents and papers relative to my ministry." 
 
 Brienne went as desired, and as the letter was unsealed, 
 did not fail to read it on his way. There is likewise no 
 doubt that Bernouin, who was on good terms with every- 
 body, approached so near to the secretary as to be able to 
 read the letter over his shoulder; so that the news spread 
 with such activity through the castle that Mazarin might 
 have feared it would reach the ears of the queen-mother 
 before M. de Brienne could convey Louis XI V.'s letter to 
 her. A moment after, orders were given for departure, and 
 M. de Conde having been to pay his respects to the king, 
 at his pretended rising, inscribed the city of Poitiers upon 
 his tablets, as the place of sojourn and repose of their 
 majesties. Thus in a few instants was unraveled an in- 
 trigue which had covertly occupied all the dijilomacies of 
 Europe. It had nothing, however, very clear as a result, 
 but to make a poor lieutenant of musketeers lose his com- 
 mission and his fortune. It is true, that in exchange he 
 gained his liberty. We shall soon know how M. d'Artag- 
 nan profited by this. For the moment, if the reader will 
 permit us, we will return to the hostelry of les Medici, of 
 which one of the windows opened at the very moment the 
 orders were given for the departure of the king. 
 
 The window that opened was that of one of the chambers 
 of Charles II. The unfortunate prince had passed the 
 night in bitter reflections, his head supported by his hands, 
 and his elbows on the table, while Parry, infirm and old, 
 fatigued in body and in mind, had fallen asleep in a corner. 
 A singular fortune was that of this faithful servant, who 
 saw recommencing for the second generation the fearful 
 series of misfortunes which had weighed so heavily on the 
 first. When Charles II. had well thought over the fresh 
 defeat he had experienced, when he perfectly comprehended 
 the complete isolation into which he had just fallen, on see- 
 ing his fresh hope le+'t behind him, he was seized as with a 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 101 
 
 vertigo, and sank back in the large fauteuil iu which he 
 was seated. Then God took pity on the unhappy prince, 
 and sent to console him sleep, the innocent brother of 
 death. He did not wake till half-past six, that is to say, till 
 the sun shone brightly into his chamber, and Parry, motion- 
 less with fear of waking him, was observing with profound 
 grief the eyes of the young man already red with wakeful- 
 ness, and his cheeks pale with suffering and privations. 
 
 At length the noise of some heavy carts descending 
 toward the Loire awakened Charles. He rose, looked 
 around him like a man who has forgotten everything, per 
 ceived Parry, shook him by the hand, and commanded him 
 to settle the reckoning with Master Cropole. Master Cro- 
 pole, being called upon to settle his account with Parry, 
 acquitted himself, it must be allowed, like an honest man; 
 he only made his customary remark, that the two travelers 
 had eaten nothing which had the double disadvantage of 
 being humiliating for his kitchen, and of forcing him to 
 ask payment for a repast not consumed, but not the less 
 lost. Parry had nothing to say to the contrary, and paid. 
 
 "I hope," said the king, "it has not been the same with 
 the horses. I don't see that they have eaten at your ex- 
 pense, and it would be a misfortune for travelers like us, 
 who have a long journey to make, to have our horses fail 
 us." 
 
 But Cropole, at this doubt, assumed his majestic air, and 
 replied that the manger of Us Medici was not less hospita- 
 ble than its refectory. 
 
 The king mounted his horse; his old servant did the 
 same, and both set out toward Paris, without meeting a 
 single person on their road, in the streets, or the faubourgs 
 of the city. For the prince the blow was more severe, 
 from being a fresh exile. The unfortunate cling to the 
 smallest hopes, as the happy do to the greatest good; and 
 when they are obliged to quit the place where that hope has 
 soothed their hearts, they experience the mortal regret 
 which the banished man feels when he places his foot upon 
 the vessel which is to bear him into exile. It appears that 
 the heart already wounded so many times suffers from the 
 least scratch; it appears that it considers as a good the 
 momentary absence of evil, which is nothing but the absence 
 of pain; and that God, into the most terrible misfortunes, 
 has thrown hope as the drop of water which the rich bad 
 man in hell entreated of Lazarus. 
 
 For one instant even the hope of Charles II. had been 
 
102 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 more than a fugitive joy — that was when he found himself so 
 kindly welcomed by his brother king; then it had taken a 
 form that had become a reality; then, all at once, the re- 
 fusal of Mazarin had reduced the factitious reality to the 
 state of a dream. This promise of Louis XIV., so soon 
 resumed, had been nothing but a mockery, a mockery like 
 his crown — like his scepter — like his friends — like all that 
 had surrounded his royal childhood, and which had aban- 
 doned his proscribed youth. Mockery! everything was a 
 mockery for Charles II., except the cold, black repose 
 promised by death. 
 
 Such were the ideas of the unfortunate prince while sit- 
 ting listlessly upon his horse, to which he abandoned tke 
 reius; he rode slowly along beneath the warm sun of May, 
 in which the somber misanthropy of the exile perceived a 
 last insult to his grief. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "remember!" 
 
 A horseman" who passed rapidly along the road leading 
 toward Blois, which he had left nearly half an hour before, 
 crossed the two travelers, and, though apparently in haste, 
 raised his hat as he passed them. The king scarcely ob- 
 served this young man, who was about twenty-five years of 
 age. Turning round several times, he made signals of kind- 
 ness to a man standing before the gate of a handsome white- 
 and-red house; that ^ to say, built of brick and stone, with 
 a slated roof, situated on the left hand of the road the 
 prince was traveling. 
 
 This man, old, tall, and thin, with white hair — we speak 
 ©f him standing by the gate — this man replied to the fare- 
 well signals of the young one by signs of parting as tender 
 as could have been made by a father. The young man dis- 
 appeared at the first turning of the road, bordered by fine 
 trees, and the old man was preparing to return to the 
 house, when the two travelers, arriving in front of the 
 gate, attracted his attention. 
 
 The king, we have said, was riding with his head cast 
 down, his arms inert, leaving his horse to go what pace he 
 liked, while Parry behind him, the better to imbibe the 
 genial influence of the sun, had taken off his hat, and was 
 looking about to the right and left. His eyes encountered 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 103 
 
 those of the old man leaning against the gate, and who, as 
 if struck by some strange spectacle, uttered an exclamation, 
 and made one step toward the two travelers. From Parry 
 his eyes immediately turned toward the king, upon whom 
 they stopped for an instant. This examination however 
 rapid, was reflected instantly in a visible manner upon the 
 features of the tall .old man. For scarcely had he recog- 
 nized the younger of the travelers — and we say recognized, 
 for nothing but a perfect recognition could have explained 
 such an act — scarcely, we say, had he recognized the 
 younger of the two travelers, than he clapped his hands to- 
 gether with respectful surprise, and, raising his hat from 
 his head, bowed so profoundly that it might have been said 
 he was kneeling. This demonstration, however absent, or, 
 rather, however absorbed was the king in his reflections, 
 attracted his attention instantly, and checking his horse, 
 and turning toward Parry, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Good God! Parry, who is that man who salutes me in 
 such a marked manner? Can he know me, think you?" 
 
 Parry, much agitated and very pale, had already turned 
 his horse toward the gate. 
 
 "Ah, sire," said he, stopping suddenly at five or six 
 paces' distance from the still bending old man, "sire, I am 
 seized with astonishment, for I think I recognize that brave 
 man. Yes, it must be he! Will your majesty permit me 
 to speak to him?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Can it be you, Monsieur Grimaud?" asked Parry. 
 
 "Yes, it is," replied the tall old man, looking up without 
 abating in his respectful attitude. 
 
 "Sire," then said Parry, "I was not deceived. This 
 good man is the servant of the Comte de la Fere, and the 
 Comte de la Fere, if you remember, is the worthy gentle- 
 man of whom I have so often spoken to your majesty that 
 the remembrance of him must remain, not only in your 
 mind, but in your heart." 
 
 "He who was present at the last moments of my father? 5- ' 
 asked Charles, evidently affected at the remembrance. 
 
 "The same, sire." 
 
 "Alas!" said Charles; and then addressing Grimaud, 
 whose penetrating and intelligent eyes seemed to search 
 and divine his thoughts: "My friend," said he, "does your 
 master, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, live in this neigh- 
 borhood?" 
 
 "There," replied Grimaud, pointing with his outstretched 
 arm "to the white-and-red house behind the gate* 
 
104 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 "And is Monsieur le Comte de la Fere at home at 
 present?" 
 
 "At the back, under the chestnut-trees." 
 
 "Parry," said the king, "I will not miss this opportunity, 
 so precious for me, to thank the gentleman to whom our 
 house is indebted for such a noble example of devotedness 
 and generosity. Hold my horse, my friend, if you please." 
 And, throwing the bridle to Grimaud, the king entered the 
 abode of Athos, quite alone, as one equal enters the dwell- 
 ing of another. Charles had been informed by the concise 
 explanation of Grimaud: "At the back, under the chestnut- 
 trees;" he left, therefore, the house on the left, and went 
 straight down the path indicated. The thing was easy; 
 the tops of those noble trees, already covered with leaves 
 and flowers, rose above all the rest. On arriving under the 
 lozenges, by turns luminous and dark, which checkered the 
 ground of this path according as the trees were more or less 
 in leaf, the young prince perceived a gentleman walking 
 with his arms behind him, apparently plunged in a pro- 
 found reverie. Without doubt he had often had this gen- 
 tleman described to him, for, without hesitating, Charles 
 II. walked straight up to him. At the sound of his foot- 
 steps, the Comte de la Fere raised his head, and seeing an 
 unknown of a noble and elegant carrriage coming toward 
 him, he raised his hat and waited. At some paces from 
 him, Charles II. likewise took off his hat. Then, as if in 
 reply to the comte's mute interrogation: 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte," said he, "I come to discharge a 
 duty toward you. I have, for a long time, had the expres- 
 sion of a profound gratitude to bring you. I am Charles 
 II., son of Charles Stuart, who reigned in England, and died 
 on the scaffold." 
 
 On hearing this illustrious name, Athos felt a kind of 
 shudder creep through his veins, but at the sight of the 
 young prince standing uncovered before him, and stretch- 
 ing out his hand toward him, two tears, for an instant, 
 dimmed his brilliant eyes. He bent respectfully, but the 
 prince took him by the hand. 
 
 "See how unfortunate I am, Monsieur le Comte; it is 
 only due to chance that I have met with you. Alas! I 
 ought to have people around me whom I love and honor, 
 whereas I am reduced to preserve their services in* my 
 heart, and their names in my memory; so that if your serv- 
 ant had not recognized mine, I should have passed by your 
 door as by that of a stranger." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 105 
 
 "It is but too true," said Athos, replying with his voice 
 to the first part of the king's speech, and with a bow to the 
 second; "it is but too true, indeed, that your majesty has 
 seen many evil days." 
 
 "And the worst, alas!" replied Charles, "are perhaps 
 still to come." 
 
 ''Sire, let us hope." 
 
 "Comte, comte," continued Charles, shaking nis head, 
 "I entertained hope till last night, and that of a good 
 Christian, I swear." 
 
 Athos looked at the king as if to interrogate him. 
 
 "Oh, .the history is soon related," said Charles. "Pro- 
 scribed, despoiled, disdained, I resolved, in spite of all .my 
 repugnance, to tempt fortune one last time. Is it not 
 written above, that, for our family, all good fortune and 
 all bad fortune shall eternally come from France? You 
 know something of that, monsieur — you, who are one of 
 the Frenchmen whom my unfortunate father found at the 
 foot of his scaffold, on the day of his death, after having 
 found them at his right hand on the day of battle.'' 
 
 "Sire," said Athos modestly, "I was not alone. I and 
 my companions did, under the circumstances, our duty as 
 gentlemen, and that was all. You majesty was about to do 
 me the honor to relate " 
 
 "That is true. I had the protection — pardon my hesita- 
 tion, comte, but, for a Stuart, you, who understand every- 
 thing, you will comprehend that the word is hard to pro- 
 nounce — I had, I say, the protection of my cousin, the 
 stadtholder of Holland; but without the intervention, or, 
 at least, without the authorization of France, the stadt- 
 holder would not take the initiative. I came, then, to ask 
 this authorization of the King of France, who has refused 
 me." 
 
 "The king has refused you, sire?" 
 
 "Oh, not he; all justice must be rendered to my younger 
 brother Louis; but Monsieur de Mazarin " 
 
 Athos bit his lips. 
 
 "You perhaps think I had a right to expect this refusal?" 
 said the king, who had remarked the movement. 
 
 "That was, in truth, my thought, sire," replied Athos 
 respectfully; "I know that Italian of old." 
 
 "Then I determined to come to the test, and know at 
 once the last word of my destiny. I told my brother Louis, 
 that, not to compromise either France or Holland, I would 
 tempt fortune myself in person, as I had already done, with 
 
106 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 two hundred gentlemen, if he would give them to me; and 
 a million, if he would lend it me." 
 
 "Well, sire?" 
 
 "Well, monsieur, I am suffering at this moment some- 
 thing strange, and that is, the satisfaction of despair. 
 Tli ere is in certain souls — and I have just discovered that 
 mine is of the number — a real satisfaction in that assurance 
 that all is lost, and the time is come to yield." 
 
 "Oh, I hope,"said Athos, "that your majesty is not come 
 to that extremity." 
 
 "To say so, Monsieur le Comte, to endeavor to revive 
 hope in my heart, you must have ill understood what I have 
 just told you. I came to Blois to ask of my brother Louis 
 the alms of a million, with which I had the hopes of re- 
 establishing my affairs; and my brother Louis has refused 
 me. You see, then, plainly, that all is lost." 
 
 "Will your majesty permit me to express a contrary 
 opinion?" 
 
 "How is that, comte? Do you take me for a mind vulgar 
 to such a degree as not to know how to confront my posi- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Sire, I have always seen that it was in desperate posi- 
 tions that suddenly the great turns of fortune have taken 
 place." 
 
 "Thank you, comte; it is some comfort to meet with a 
 heart like yours; that is to say, sufficiently trustful in God 
 and in monarchy never to despair of a royal fortune, how- 
 ever low it may be fallen. Unfortunately, my dear comte, 
 your words are like those remedies they call 'sovereign,' 
 and which, notwithstanding, being only able to cure cura- 
 ble wounds or diseases, fail against death. Thank you for 
 your perseverance in consoling me, comte, thanks for your 
 devoted remembrance, but I know what I have to trust to 
 — nothing will save me now. And see, my friend, I was so 
 convinced that I was taking the route of exile with my old 
 Parry; I was returning to devour my poignant griefs in the 
 little hermitage offered me by Holland. There, believe 
 me, comte, all will soon be over, and death will come 
 quickly; it is called for so often by this body, which the 
 soul gnaws, and by this soul, which aspires to heaven." 
 
 "Your majesty has a mother, a sister, and brothers; your 
 majesty is the head of the family; you ought, therefore, to 
 ask a long life of God, instead of imploring Him for a 
 prompt death. Your majesty is proscribed, a fugitive, but 
 you have right on your side, you ought to aspire to com- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 107 
 
 bats, dangers, business, and not to the repose of the 
 heavens." 
 
 "Comte," said Charles II., with a smile of indescribable 
 sadness, "have you ever heard of a king who reconquered his 
 kingdom with one servant of the age of Parry, and with 
 three hundred crowns which that servant carried in his 
 purse?" 
 
 "No, sire; but I have heard — and that more than once — 
 that a dethroned king has recovered his kingdom with a 
 firm will, perseverance, some friends, and a million skill- 
 fully employed." 
 
 "But you cannot have understood me. The million I 
 asked of my brother Louis, he has refused me." 
 
 "Sire," said Athos, "will your majesty grant me a few 
 minutes, and listen attentively to what remains for me to 
 say to you?" 
 
 Charles II. looked earnestly at Athos. 
 
 "Willingly, monsieur," said he. 
 
 "Then I will show your majesty the way," resumed the 
 comte, directing his steps toward the house. He then con- 
 ducted the king to his closet, and begged him to be seated. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "your majesty just now told me that, 
 in the present state of England, a million would suffice for 
 the recovery of your kingdom." 
 
 "To attempt" it at least, monsieur; and to die as a king 
 if I should not succeed." 
 
 "Well, then, sire, let your majesty, according to the 
 promise you have made me, have the goodness to listen to 
 what I have to say." Charles made an affirmative sign 
 with his head. Athos walked straight up to the door, the 
 bolts of which he drew, after having looked if anybody was 
 near, and then returned. "Sire," said he "your majesty 
 has kindly remembered that I lent assistance to the very 
 noble and very unfortunate Charles I. when his executioners 
 conducted him from St. James' to Whitehall." 
 
 "Yes, certainly, I do remember it, and always shall re- 
 member it." 
 
 "Sire, it is a dismal history for a son to listen to, and 
 who, no doubt, has had it related to him many times; and 
 yet I ought to repeat it to your majesty without omitting 
 one detail." 
 
 "Speak on, monsieur." 
 
 "When the king, your father, ascended the scaffold, or, 
 rather., when he passed from his chamber to the scaffold, 
 even with his window, everything was prepared for his 
 
108 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOSTNE. 
 
 escape. The executioner was got out of the way; a hole 
 contrived under the floor of his apartment; I myself waa 
 beneath the funeral vault, which I heard all at once creak 
 beneath his feet." 
 
 "Parry has related to me all these terrible details, mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 Athos bowed, and resumed: 
 
 "But here is something he has not related to you, sire, 
 for what follows passed between God, your father, and my- 
 self 3 and never has the revelation of it been made even to 
 my dearest friends. 'Go a little further off,' said the 
 august patient to the executioner; 'it is but for an instant, 
 and I know that I belong to you; but remember not to 
 strike till I give the signal. I wish to offer up my prayers 
 in freedom.' " 
 
 "Pardon me," said Charles II., turning very pale, "but 
 you, comte, who know so many details of this melancholy 
 event — details which, as you said just now, have never been 
 revealed to anyone — do you know the name of that infernal 
 executioner, of that base wretch who concealed his face that 
 he might assassinate a king with impunity?" 
 
 Athos became slightly pale. 
 
 "His name?" said he; "yes, I know it, but I cannot tell 
 it." 
 
 "And what is become of him, for nobody in England 
 knows his destiny?" 
 
 "He is dead." 
 
 "But he did not die in his bed; he did not die a calm and 
 peaceful death; he did not die the death of the good?" 
 
 "He died a violent death, in a terrible night, rendered so 
 by the passions of man and a tempest from God. His body,, 
 pierced by a poniard, sunk to the depths of the ocean. 
 God pardon his murderer!" 
 
 "Proceed, then," said Charles II., seeing that the comte 
 was unwilling to say more. 
 
 "The King of England, after having, as I have said, 
 spoken thus to the masked executioner, added: 'Observe, 
 you will not strike till I shall stretch out my arms, saying 
 — Remember!' " 
 
 "I was aware," said Charles, in an agitated voice, "that 
 that was the last word pronounced by my unfortunate 
 father. But with what aim — for whom?" 
 
 "For the French gentleman placed beneath his scaffold." 
 
 "For you, then, monsieur?" 
 
 "Yos, sire; and every one of the words which he spoke to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELOffKE. 109 
 
 me, through the planks of the scaffold covered with a black 
 cloth, still sounds in my ears. The king knelt down on 
 one knee: 'Comte de la Fere,' said he, 'are you there?' 
 'Yes, sire,' replied I. Then the king stooped toward the 
 boards." 
 
 Charles II., also palpitating with interest, burning with 
 grief, stooped toward Athos, to catch, one by one, every 
 word that escaped from him. His head touched that of the 
 comte. 
 
 "Then," continued Athos, "the king stooped. 'Comte 
 de la Fere,' said he, 'it is not possible to be saved by you, 
 it is not to be. Now, even though I commit a sacrilege, I 
 must speak to you. Yes, I have spoken to men — yes, I 
 have spoken to God, and I speak to you the last. By sup. 
 porting a cause which I thought sacred, I have lost the 
 throne of my father, and diverted the heritage of my 
 children.' " 
 
 Charles II. concealed his face in his hands, and a bitter 
 tear glided between his white and slender fingers. 
 
 " 'I have still a million left,' continued the king. 'I 
 buried it in the vaults of the Castle of Newcastle, a moment 
 before I quitted that city.' " Charles raised his head with 
 an expression of such painful joy as would have drawn tears 
 from any one acquainted with his misfortunes. 
 
 'A million!" murmured he. "Oh, comte!" 
 
 " 'You alone know that this money exists; employ it 
 when you think it can be of the greatest service to my 
 eldest son. And now, Comte de la Fere, bid me adieu!' " 
 
 " 'Adieu, adieu, sire!' cried 1." 
 
 Charles arose, and went and leaned his burning bi'ow 
 against the window. 
 
 "It was then," continued Athos, "the king pronounced 
 the word 'Remember!' addressed to me. You see, sire, 
 that I have remembered." 
 
 The king could not resist or conceal his emotion. Athos 
 beheld the movement of his shoulders, which undulated 
 convulsively; he heard the sobs which burst from his over- 
 charged breast. He was silent himself, suffocated by the 
 flood of bitter remembrances he had just poured upon that 
 royal head. Charles II., with a violent effort, left the win- 
 dow, devoured his tears, and came and reseated himself by 
 Athos. 
 
 "Sire," said the latter, "I thought till to-day that the 
 time was not yet arrived for the employment of that last 
 resource; but, with my eyes fixed upon England, I thought 
 
110 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 it was approaching. To-morrow I meant to go and inquire 
 in what part of the world your majesty was, and then I 
 purposed going to you. You come to me, sire; that is an 
 indication that God is with us." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Charles, in a voice choked by emotion, 
 "you are, for me, what an angel sent from heaven would be 
 — you are a preserver, sent to me from the tomb of my 
 father himself; but, believe me, since ten years of civil war 
 have passed over my country, striking down men, tearing 
 up the soil, it is no more probable thatNgold should remain 
 in the entrails of the earth than love in the hearts of my 
 subjects." 
 
 "Sire, the spot in which his majesty buried the million is 
 well known to me, and no one, I am sure, has been able to 
 discover it. Besides, is the Castle of Newcastle quite 
 destroyed? Have they demolished it stone by stone, and 
 uprooted the soil to the last tree?" 
 
 "No, it is still standing; but at this moment General 
 Monk occupies it, and is encamped there. The only spot 
 from which I could look for succor, where I possess a single 
 resource, you see, is invaded by my enemies." 
 
 "General Monk, sire, cannot have passed the treasure I 
 speak of." 
 
 "Yes, but can I go and deliver myself up to Monk, in 
 order to recover this treasure? Ah, comte, you see plainly 
 I must yield to destiny, since it strikes me to the earth 
 every time I rise. What can I do with Parry as my only 
 servant, with Parry, whom Monk has already driven from 
 his presence? No, no, no, comte, we must yield to this 
 last blow." 
 
 "But what your majesty cannot do, and what Parry can 
 no more attempt, do you not believe that I could succeed 
 in?" 
 
 "You — you, comte — you would go?" 
 
 "If it please your majesty," said Athos, bowing to the 
 king: "yes, I will go, sire." 
 
 "What, you are so happy here, comte?" 
 
 "I am never happy when I have a duty left to accom- 
 plish, and it is an imperative duty which the king, your 
 father, left me' to watch over your fortunes, and make a 
 royal use of his money. So, if your majesty honors me with 
 a sign 1 will go with you." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur!" said the king, forgetting all royal 
 etiquette, and throwing his arms round the neck of Athos, 
 ''you prove to me that there is a God in heaven, and that 
 
THE VICOMTE* DE BRAGELONNE. Ill 
 
 this God sometimes sends messengers to the unfortunate 
 who groan upon the earth." 
 
 Athos, exceedingly moved by this burst of feeling of the 
 young man, thanked him with profound respect, and ap- 
 proached the window. 
 
 "Grimaud!" cried he, "bring out my horses." 
 
 "What, now — immediately?" said the king. "Ah, mon- 
 sieur, yon are indeed a wonderful man." 
 
 "Sire," said Athos, "I know of nothing more pressing 
 than your majesty's service. Besides," added he, smiling, 
 "it is a habit contracted long since, in the service of the 
 queen, your aunt, and of the king, your father. How is it 
 possible for me to lose it at the moment your majesty's 
 service calls for it?" 
 
 "What a man!" murmured the king. 
 
 Then, after a moment's reflection: 
 
 "But no, comte, I cannot expose you to such privations. 
 I have no means of rewaidmg such services." 
 
 "Bah!" said Athos, laughing. "Your majesty is joking; 
 have you not a million? Ah! why am I not possessed of 
 the half of such a sum? I would already have raised a 
 regiment. But, thank God, I have still a few rouleaus of 
 gold and some family diamonds left. Your majesty will, I 
 hope, deign to share with a devoted servant." 
 
 "With a friend — yes, comte; but on condition that, in 
 his turn, that friend will share with me hereafter." 
 
 "Sire," said Athos, opening a casket, from which he 
 drew both gold and jewels, "you see, sire, we are too rich. 
 Fortunately, there are four of us, in the event of meeting 
 with thieves." 
 
 Joy made the blood rush to the pale cheeks of Charles II., 
 as he saw Athos' two horses, led by Grimaud, already booted 
 for the journey, advance toward the peristyle. 
 
 "Blaisois, this letter for the Vicomte de Bragelonne. 
 For everybody else I am gone to Paris. I confide the house 
 to you, Blaisois." 
 
 Blaisois bowed, shook hands with Grimaud, and shut the 
 gate 
 
112 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN WHICH ARAMIS IS SOUGHT FOR AND ONLY BAZIN FOUND. 
 
 Two hours had scarcely passed away after the departure 
 of the master of the house, who, in Blaisois' sight, had 
 taken the road to Paris, when a cavalier, mounted on a good 
 pied horse, stopped before the gate, and with a sonorous 
 "hola!" called the horse-boys, who, with the gardeners, 
 had formed a circle round Blaisois, the historian in ordinary 
 to the household of the chateau. This "hold,!" doubtless 
 well known to Master Blaisois, made him turn his head and 
 exclaim: 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnan! Run quickly, you chaps, and 
 open the gate." 
 
 A swarm of eight brisk lads flew to the gate, which was 
 opened as if it had been made of feathers; and every one 
 loaded him with attentions, for they knew the welcome this 
 friend was accustomed to receive from their master; and 
 for such remarks the eye of the valet may always be de- 
 pended upon. 
 
 "Ah!" said M. d'Artagnan, with an agreeable smile, 
 balancing himself upon his stirrup to jump to the ground, 
 "where is my dear comte?" 
 
 "Ah, how unfortunate you are, monsieur!" said Blaisois; 
 "and how unfortunate will Monsieur le Comte, our master, 
 think himself when he hears of your coming! By bad luck, 
 Monsieur le Comte left home two hours ago." 
 
 D'Artagnan did not trouble himself about such trifles. 
 
 "Very good," said he. "You always speak the best 
 French in the world; you shall give me a lesson in grammar 
 and correct language, while I await the return of your 
 master." 
 
 "That is impossible, monsieur," said Blaisois; "you 
 would have to wait too long." 
 
 "Will he not come back to-day, then?" 
 
 "No, nor to-morrow, nor the day after to-morrow. Mon- 
 sieur le Comte is gone a journey." 
 
 "A journey!'' said D'Artagnan, surprised; "that's a 
 fable, Master Blaisois." 
 
 "Monsieur, it is no more than the truth. Monsieur has 
 done me the honor to commit the house to my charge; and 
 he added, with his voice so full of authority and kindness- 
 that is all one to me. 'You will say I am gone to Paris.' ' 
 
 "Well!" cried D'Artagnan, "since he is gone toward 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGBLONNE. 113 
 
 Parish that is all I want to know. Yon should have told me 
 so at first, booby! He is then two hours in advance?' 5 
 
 "Yes, monsieur.." 
 
 "I shall soon overtake him. Is he alone?" 
 
 "No, monsieur." 
 
 "Who is with him then?" 
 
 "A gentleman whom I don't know,, an old man, and 
 Monsieur Grimaud." 
 
 "Such a party cannot travel as fast as I can — I will start." 
 
 "Will monsieur listen to me an instant?" said Blaisois, 
 laying his hand gently on the reins of the horse. 
 
 "Yes, if your don't favor me with fine speeches, and 
 make haste." 
 
 "Well, then, monsieur, that word Paris appears to me to 
 be only a lure." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" said D'Artagnan seriously, "a lure, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; and Monsieur le Comte is not going to 
 Paris, I will swear." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "This — Monsieur Grimaud always knows where our mas- 
 ter is going; and he had promised me that the first time he 
 went to Paris he would take a little money for me to my 
 wife.' r ' 
 
 "What, have you a wife, then?" 
 
 "I had one — she was of this country; but monsieur 
 thought her a noisy scold, and I sent her to Paris; it is 
 sometimes inconvenient, but very agreeable at others." 
 
 "I understand; but go on. You do not believe the comte 
 is gone to Paris?" 
 
 "No, monsieur; for then Monsieur Grimaud would have 
 broken his word, he would have been perjured — and that is 
 impossible." 
 
 "That is impossible," repeated D'Artagnan, quite in a 
 study, because he was quite convinced. "Well, my brave 
 Blaisois, many thanks to you," 
 
 Blaisois bowed. 
 
 "Come, you know I am not curious — I have serious busi- 
 ness with your master. Could you not, by a little end of a 
 word — you, who speak so well — give me to understand — 
 one syllable only — I will guess the rest." 
 
 "Upon my word, monsieur, I cannot. I am quite igno- 
 rant where Monsieur le Comte is gone to. As to listening at 
 doors, that is contrary to my nature; and, besides, it is for- 
 bidden here." 
 
 "My dear lad," said D'Artagnan, "this is a very bad be- 
 
J 14 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ginning for me. Never mind; you know when Monsieur le 
 Comte will return, at least?" 
 
 "As little, monsieur, as the place of his destination." 
 
 "Come, Blaisois, come, search." 
 
 "Monsieur doubts my sincerity? Ah, monsieur, that 
 grieves me sensibly." 
 
 "The devil take his gilded tongue!" grumbled D'Artag- 
 nan. "A clown with a word would be worth a dozen oi 
 him. Adieu!" 
 
 "Monsieur, I have the honor to present you my respectL '■ 
 
 "Cuistre!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "the fellow is 
 insupportable." He gave another look up to the house, 
 turned his horse's head, and set off like a man who has 
 nothing either annoying or embarrassing on his mind. 
 When he was at the end of the wall, and out of sight: 
 "Well, now, I wonder," said he, breathing quickly, 
 "whether Athos was at home. No; all those idlers, stand- 
 ing with their arms crossed, would have been at work if the 
 eye of the master was near. Athos gone a journey? — that 
 is incomprehensible. Bah! it is all devilish mysterious. 
 And then — no — he is not the man I want. I want one of a 
 cunning, patient mind. My business is at Melun, in a cer- 
 tain presbytery I am acquainted with. Forty-five leagues — ■ 
 four days and a half. Well, it is fine weather, and I am 
 free. Never mind distance." 
 
 And he put his horse into a trot, directing his course 
 toward Paris. On the fourth day he alighted at Melun, as 
 he had intended. 
 
 D'Artagnan was never accustomed to ask anybody the 
 road, or for any common information. For these sorts of 
 details, unless in very serious circumstances, he confided in 
 his perspicacity, which was so seldom at fault, in his ex- 
 perience of thirty years, and in a great habit of reading the 
 physiognomies of houses, as well as those of men. At 
 Melun, D'Artagnan directly found the presbytery — a charm- 
 ing house, plastered over red brick, with vines climbing 
 along the gutters, and a cross in sculptured stone, sur- 
 mounting the ridge of the roof. From the ground floor of 
 this house escaped a noise, or, rather, a confusion of voices, 
 like the chirping of young birds when the brood is just 
 hatched under the doAvn. One of these voices was spelling 
 the alphabet distinctly. A voice, thick, but yet pleasant, 
 at the same time scolded the talkers and corrected the 
 faults of the reader. D'Artagnan recognized that voice, 
 and as the window of the ground floor was open, he leaned 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 115 
 
 down from his horse under the branches and red fibers of 
 the vine, and cried: 
 
 "Bazin, my dear Bazin! good-day to you." 
 
 A short fat man, with a flat face, a cranium ornamented 
 with a crown of gray hairs, cut short, in imitation of a ton- 
 sure, and covered with an old black velvet cap, arose as soon 
 as he heard D'Artagnan — we ought not to say arose, but 
 bounded up. In fact, Bazin bounded up, drawing with him, 
 his little low chair, which the children tried to take away, 
 with battles more fierce than those of the Greeks endeavor- 
 ing to recover the body of Patroclus from the hands of the 
 Trojans. Bazin did more than bound; he let fall both his 
 alphabet, and his ferule. 
 
 "You!" said he; "you, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" 
 
 "Yes, myself. Where is Aramis — no, Monsieur le Cheva- 
 iier d'Herblay — no, I am still mistaken — Monsieur le 
 Vicaire-Gen eral ?" 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," said Bazin, with dignity, "monseigneur 
 is at his diocese." 
 
 "What did you say?" said D'Artagnan. 
 Bazin repeated the sentence. 
 
 "Ah! ah! but has Aramis a diocese?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur. Why not?" 
 
 "Is he a bishop, then?" 
 
 "Why, where can you come from," said Bazin, rather 
 irreverently, "that you don't know that?" 
 
 "My dear Bazin, we pagans, we men of the sword, know 
 very well when a man is made a colonel, or mestre-de-ca?np, 
 or mareclial, of France; but if he be made a bishop, arch- 
 bishop, or pope — devil take me, if the news reaches us be- 
 fore three-quarters of the earth have had the advantage of 
 it!" * 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said Bazin, opening his eyes; "do not 
 spoil these poor children, in whom I am endeavoring to 
 inculcate such good principles. In fact, the children had 
 surrounded D'Artagnan, whose horse, long sword, spurs, 
 and martial air they very much admired. But, above all, 
 they admired his strong voice; so that, when he uttered his 
 oath, the whole school cried out: "The devil take me!" 
 with fearful bursts of laughter, shouts, and stamping, as 
 delighted the musketeer, and bewildered the old pedagogue. 
 
 "There!" said he, "hold your tongues, you brats! You 
 are come, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and all my good principles 
 fly away. ' With you, as usual, comes disorder. Babel is 
 revived. Ah, good Lord! Ah, the wild little wretches!' 1 
 
116 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE. 
 
 And the worthy Bazin distributed right and left blows which 
 redoubled the cries of his scholars by making them change 
 the nature of them. 
 
 "At least/' said he, "you can no more debauch any one 
 here." 
 
 "Do you think so?" said D'Artagnan, with a smile which 
 made a shudder creep over the shoulders of Bazin. 
 
 "He is capable of it," murmured he. 
 
 "Where is your master's diocese ?" 
 i "Monseigneur Bene is Bishop of Vannes." 
 
 "Who caused him to be nominated?" 
 
 "Why, Monsieur le Surintendant, our neighbor." 
 
 "What, Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "To be sure he did." 
 
 "Is Aramis on good terms with him, then?" 
 
 "Monseigneur preached every Sunday at the house of 
 Monsieur le Surintendant at Vaux; then they hunted to- 
 gether." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "And monseigneur composed his homilies — no I mean 
 his sermons — with Monsieur le Surintendant." 
 
 "Bah! he preached in verse, then, this worthy bishop?" 
 
 "Monsieur, for the love of Heaven, do not jest with, 
 sacred things." 
 
 "There, Bazin, there! So, then, Aramis is at Vannes?" 
 
 "At Vannes, in Bretagne." 
 
 "You are a deceitful old hunks, Bazin; that is not true." 
 
 "See, monsieur, if you please; the apartments of the 
 presbytery are empty." 
 
 "He is right there," said D'Artagnan, looking attentively 
 at the house, the aspect of which announced solitude. 
 
 "But monseigneur must have written you an account of 
 his promotion." 
 
 "From when does it date?" 
 
 "A month back." 
 
 "Oh! then there is no time lost. Aramis cannot yet have 
 wanted me. But how is it, Bazin, you do not follow your 
 master?" 
 
 "Monsieur, I cannot; I have occupations." 
 
 "Your alphabet?" 
 
 "And my penitents." 
 
 "What, do you confess, then? Are you a priest?" 
 
 "The same as one. I have such a call." 
 
 "But the orders?" 
 
 "Oh," said Bazin, without hesitation, "now that mon- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 117 
 
 •eigneur is a bishop, I shall soon have my orders, or, at 
 least, my dispensations." And he rubbed his hands. 
 
 "Decidedly," said D'Artagnan to himself, "there will be 
 no means of uprooting these people. Get me some supper, 
 Bazin." 
 
 "With pleasure, monsieur." 
 
 "A fowl, a bouillon, and a bottle of wine." 
 
 "This is Saturday, monsieur — it is a, jour maigre." 
 
 "I have a dispensation," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 Bazin looked at him suspiciously. 
 
 "Ah, ah, master hypocrite!" said the musketeer, "for 
 whom do you take me? If you, who are the valet, hope for 
 dispensation for committing a crime, shall not I, the friend 
 of your bishop, have dispensation for eating meat at the 
 call of my stomach? Make yourself agreeable with me, 
 Bazin, or, by heavens! I will complain to the king, and you 
 shall never confess. Now, you know that the nomination 
 of bishops rests with the king — I have the king, I am the 
 stronger." 
 
 Bazin smiled hypocritically. 
 
 "Ah, but we have Monsieur le Surintendant," said he. 
 
 "And you laugh at the king, then?" 
 
 Bazin made no reply; his smile was sufficiently eloquent. 
 
 "My supper," said D'Artagnan, "it is getting toward 
 seven o'clock." 
 
 Bazin turned round and ordered the eldest of the pupils 
 to inform the cook. In the meantime, D'Artagnan sur- 
 veyed the presbytery. 
 
 "Pugh!" said he disdainfully, "monseigneur lodged his 
 grandeur but very meanly here." 
 
 "We have the Chateau de Vaux," said Bazin. 
 
 "Which is, perhaps, equal to the Louvre?" said D'Artag- 
 nan jeeringly. 
 
 "Which is better," replied Bazin, with the greatest cool- 
 ness imaginable. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 He would, perhaps, have prolonged the discussion, and 
 maintained the superiority of the Louvre, but the lieutenant 
 perceived that his horse remained fastened to the bars of a 
 gate. 
 
 "The devil!" said he. "Get my horse looked after; your 
 master the bishop has none like him in his stables." 
 
 Bazin cast a sidelong glance at the horse, and replied: 
 
 "Monsieur le Surintendant gave him four from his own 
 stables; and each of the four is worth four of yours,." 
 
118 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 The blood mounted to the face of D'Artagnan. His 
 hand itched, and his eye glanced over the head of Bazin, to 
 select the place upon which he should discharge his anger. 
 But it passed away; reflection came, and D'Artagnan con- 
 tented himself with saying: 
 
 "The devil! the devil! I have done well to quit the serv- 
 ice of the king. Tell mc, worthy Master Bazin," added 
 he, "how many musketeers does Monsieur le Surintendant 
 retain in his service?" 
 
 "He could have all there are in the kingdom with his 
 money," replied Bazin, closing his book, and dismissing 
 the boys with some kindly stripes of his cane. 
 
 "The devil! the devil!" repeated D'Artagnan, biting 
 with all his might at the tough fowl they had served up to 
 him, and which they had evidently forgotten to fatten; "it 
 appears to me that I have done wrong in not going to take 
 service in the suite of that master yonder. A powerful 
 noble, this intendant, seemingly. In good truth, we poor 
 fellows know nothing at the court, and the rays of the sun 
 prevent our seeing the large stars, which are suns also, at a 
 little greater distance from our earth — that is all." 
 
 As D'Artagnan delighted, both from pleasure and system, 
 in making people talk about things which interested him, 
 he fenced in his best style with Master Bazin, but it was 
 pure loss of time; beyond the fatiguing and hyperbolical 
 praises of M. le Surintendant of the Finances, Bazin, who, 
 on his side, was on his guard, afforded nothing but plati- 
 tudes to the curiosity of D'Artagnan, so that our mus- 
 keteer, in a tolerably bad humor, desired to go to bed as 
 soon as he had supped. D'Artagnan was introduced by 
 Bazin into a mean chamber, in which there was as poor a 
 bed; but D'Artagnan was not fastidious in that respect. 
 He had been told that Aramis had taken away the key of 
 his own private apartment, and as he knew Aramis was a 
 very particular man, and had generally many things to con- 
 ceal in his apartment, that had not at all astonished him. 
 He had, therefore, although it appeared comparatively even 
 harder, attacked the bed as bravely as he had done the 
 fowl; and, as he had as good an inclination to sleep as he 
 had had to eat, he u ook scarcely longer time to be snoring 
 harmoniously than he had employed in picking the last 
 bones of the bird. 
 
 Since he was no longer in the service of any one, D'Ar- 
 tagnan had promised himself to indulge in sleeping as 
 soundly as he had formerly slept lightly; but with whatever 
 
THE VIGOMTB DE BRACxELOlOrE. 119 
 
 good faith D'Artagnan had made himself this promise, and 
 whatever desire he might have to keep it religiously, he 
 was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud noise of 
 carriages and servants on horseback. A sudden illumina- 
 tion flashed over the walls of his chamber: he jumped out 
 of bed and ran to the window in his shirt. 
 
 "Can the king be coming this way?" he thought, rub- 
 bing his eyes; "in truth, such a suite can only be attached 
 to royalty." 
 
 "Vive Monsieur le Surintendant!" cried, or, rather, 
 vociferated, from a window on the ground floor, a voice 
 which he recognized as Bazin's, who, while so crying, waved 
 a handkerchief with one hand and held a large candle in 
 the other. D'Artagnan then saw something like a brilliant 
 human form leaning out at the window of the principal 
 carriage; at the same time loud bursts of laughter, pro- 
 voked, no doubt, by the strange figure of Bazin, and which 
 issued from the same carriage, left, as it were, a train of joy 
 upon the passage of the rapid cortege. 
 
 "I might easily see it was not the king," said D'Artag- 
 nan; "people don't laugh so heartily when the king passes. 
 Hold, Bazin!" cried he to his neighbor, who was still lean- 
 ing three parts out of the window, to follow the carriage 
 with his eyes as long as he could. "What is all that 
 about?" 
 
 "It is Monsieur Fouquet," said Bazin, in a patronizing 
 tone. 
 
 "And all his people?" 
 
 "That is the court of Monsieur Fouquet." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" said D'Artagnan; "what would Monsieur de 
 Mazarin say to that if he heard it?" And he returned to 
 his truckle-bed, asking himself how Aramis always con- 
 trived to be protected by the most powerful persons in the 
 kingdom. "Is it that he has more luck than I, or that I 
 am a greater fool than he? Bah!" That was the conclud- 
 ing word by the aid of which D'Artagnan, become wise : 
 now terminated every thought and every period of his style. 
 Formerly he said, ' Mordioux!" which was a prick of the 
 spur, but now he had become older, and he murmured that 
 philosophical "Bah!" which served as a bridle to all the 
 p»RKionf 
 
120 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 IK WHICH D'ARTGNAN SEEKS FOR PORTHOS, AND ONLS 
 FINDS MOUSQUETON. 
 
 When D'Artagnan had perfectly convinced himself that 
 the absence of the Vicaire-General d'Herblay was real, and 
 that his friend was not to be found at Melun, or in its 
 environs, he left Bazin without regret, gave an ill-natured 
 glance at the magnificant Chateau de Vaux, which was be- 
 ginning to shine with that splendor which brought on its 
 ruin, and, compressing his lips like a man full of mistrust 
 and suspicion, he put spurs to his pied horse, saying: 
 
 "Well, well! I have still Pierrefonds left, and there I 
 shall find the best man and the best-filled coffer. And that 
 is all I want, for I have an idea of my own." 
 
 We will spare our readers the prosaic incidents of D'Ar- 
 tagnan's journey, which terminated on the morning of the 
 third day within sight of Pierrefonds. D'Artagnan came by 
 the way of Nanteuil-le-Hardouin and Crepy. At a distance 
 he perceived the Castle d'Orleans, which, having become 
 part of the crown domain, was kept by an old concierge. 
 This was one of those marvelous manors of the Middle 
 Ages, with walls twenty feet in thickness, and a hundred in 
 height. D'Artagnan rode slowly past its walls, measured 
 its towers with his eyes, and descended into the valley. 
 From a distance he looked down upon the chateau of Por- 
 thos, situated on the shores of a small lake, and contiguous 
 to a magnificent forest. It was the same place we have 
 already had the 'lonor of describing to our readers; we 
 shall, therefore, satisfy ourselves with naming it. The 
 first thing D'Artagnan perceived after the fine trees, the 
 sun of May gilding the sides of the green hills, long rows of 
 feather-topped wood which stretched out toward Com- 
 piegne, was a large rolling box pushed forward by two serv- 
 ants and dragged by two others. In this box there was an 
 enormous green-and-gold thing, which stole along the smil- 
 ing glades of the park, thus dragged and pushed. This 
 thing, at a -distance, was not to be made out, and signified 
 absolutely nothing; nearer, it was a tun muffled in gold- 
 bound green cloth; when close, it was a man, or, rather, a 
 ponssa, the inferior extremity of which, spreading over the 
 interior of the box, entirely filled it; when still closer, the 
 man was Mousqueton — Mousqueton, with gray hair and a 
 'ace as red as Punchinello's, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 121 
 
 "Pardieu!" cried D'Artagnan; "why, that's my dear 
 Monsieur Mousqueton!" 
 
 "Ah!" cried the fat man — "ah! what happiness! what 
 joy! There's Monsieur d'Artagnan. Stop, you rascals!" 
 
 These last words were addressed to the lackeys who 
 pushed and dragged him. The box stopped, and the four 
 lackeys, with a precision quite military, took off their laced 
 hats and ranged themselves behind it. 
 
 "Oh, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Mousqueton, "why 
 can I not embrace your knees? But I am become impotent, 
 as you see." 
 
 h 'Dame! my dear Mousqueton, it is age." 
 
 "No, monsieur, it is not age; it is infirmities — troubles." 
 
 "Troubles — you, Mousqueton?" said D'Artagnan, mak- 
 ing the tour of the box. "Are you out of your mind, my 
 dear friend? Thank God! you are as hearty as a three- 
 hundred-year-old oak." 
 
 "Ah! but my legs, monsieur, my legs!" groaned the 
 faithful servant. 
 • "What's the matter with your legs?" 
 
 "Oh, they will no longer bear me!" 
 
 "Ah, the ingrates! And yet you feed them well, Mous- 
 queton, apparently." 
 
 "Alas! yes. They have nothing to reproach me with in 
 that respect," said Mousqueton, with a sigh; "I have al- 
 ways done what I could for my poor body; I am not selfish." 
 And Mousqueton sighed afresh. 
 
 "I wonder whether Mousqueton wants to be a baron, too, 
 as he sighs after that fashion?" thought D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Mo?i Dieu ! monsieur," said Mousqueton, as if rousing 
 himself from a painful reverie, "how happy monseigneur 
 will be that you have thought of him!" 
 
 "Kind Porthos!" cried D'Artagnan, "I am anxious to 
 embrace him." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mousqueton, much affected, "I will certainly 
 write to him." 
 
 "How!" cried D'Artagnan, "you will write to him?" 
 
 "This very day; I will not delay it an hour." 
 
 "Is he not here, then?" 
 
 "No, monsieur." 
 
 "But is he near at hand? — is he far off?" 
 
 "Oh, can I tell, monsieur, can I tell?" 
 
 "Mordioux!" cried the musketeer, stamping with his 
 foot. "lam unfortunate. Porthos is such a stay-at-home!" 
 
 "Monsieur, there is not a more sedentary man than mon- 
 leigneur; but " 
 
123 TH? YICOMTE DE BRAGELOITirE. 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "When a friend presses you " 
 
 "A friend?" 
 
 "Doubtless — the worthy Monsieur d'Herblay." 
 
 "What, has Aramis pressed Porthos?" 
 
 "This is how the thing happened, Monsieur d'Artagnan* 
 Monsieur d'Herblay wrote to monseigneur " 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "A letter, monsieur, such a pressing letter that it threw 
 us all into a bustle." 
 
 "Tell me all about it, my dear friend," said D'Artagnan; 
 ; 'but remove these people a little further off first." 
 
 Mousqueton shouted: "Fall back, you sirs!" with such 
 powerful lungs that the breath, without the words, would 
 have been sufficient to disperse the four lackeys. D'Artag- 
 nan seated himself on the shaft of the box and opened his 
 ears. "Monsieur," said Mousqueton, "monseigneur, then, 
 received a letter from Monsieur le Vicaire-General d'Her- 
 blay eight or nine days ago; it was the day of champetre 
 pleasures — yes, it must have been Wednesday." 
 
 "What means that?" said D'Artagnan. "The day of 
 champetre pleasures?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; we have so many pleasures to take in 
 this delightful country, that we were encumbered by them; 
 so much so, that we have been forced to regulate the dis- 
 tribution of them." 
 
 "How easily do I recognize Porthos' love of order in that! 
 Now, that idea would never have occurred to me; but then 
 I am not encumbered with pleasures." 
 
 "We were, though," said Mousqueton. 
 
 "And how did you regulate the matter, let me know?" 
 said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "It is rather long, monsieur." 
 
 "Never mind, we have plenty of time; and you speak so 
 well, my dear Mousqueton, that it is really a pleasure to 
 hear you." 
 
 "It is true," said Mousqueton, with a sign of satisfac- 
 tion, which emanated evidently from the justice which had 
 been rendered him, "it is true I have made great progress 
 in the company of monseigneur." 
 
 "I am waiting for the distribution of the pleasures, Mous- 
 queton, and with impatience. I want to know if I have 
 arrived on a lucky day." 
 
 "Oh, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Mousqueton, in a mel- 
 ancholy tone, "since monseigneur's departure all the 
 pleasures are gone, too." 
 
THE VICOMTE BE BRAGELUXNE. 123 
 
 "Well, my dear Mousqueton, refresh your memory." 
 
 "With what day shall I begin?" 
 
 "Eh, pardieu I begin with Sunday; that is the Lord's 
 day." 
 
 "Sunday, monsieur!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Sunday pleasures are religious; monseigneur goes to 
 mass, makes the bread-offering, and has discourses and in- 
 structions made to him by his almoner in ordinary. That 
 is not very amusing, but we expect a Carmelite from Pari? 
 who will do the duty of our almoner, and who, we are as 
 sured, speaks very well, which will keep us awake, whereas 
 our present almoner always sends us to sleep. These are 
 Sunday religious pleasures. On Monday, worldly pleasures. " 
 
 "Ah, ah!" said D'Artagnan, "what do you mean by that? 
 Let us have a glimpse at your worldly pleasures.'-' 
 
 "Monsieur, on Monday we go into the world; we pay and 
 receive visits, we play on the lute, we dance, we make 
 verses, and burn a little incense in honor of the ladies." 
 
 "Peste! that is the height of gallantry," said the mus- 
 keteer, who was obliged to call to his aid all the strength of 
 his mastoid muscles to suppress an enormous inclination to 
 laugh. 
 
 "Tuesday, learned pleasures." 
 
 "Good!" cried D'Artagnan. "What are they? Detail 
 them, my dear Mousqueton." 
 
 "Monseigneur has bought a sphere or globe, which I will 
 show you; it fills all the perimeter of the great tower, ex- 
 cept a gallery which he has had built over the sphere; there 
 are little strings and brass wires to which the sun and moon 
 are hooked. It all turns; and that is very beautiful. Mon- 
 seigneur points out to me seas and distant countries. We 
 don't intend to visit them, but it is very interesting." 
 
 "Interesting! yes, that's the word," repeated D'Artag 
 nan. "And Wednesday?" 
 
 "Champetre pleasures, as I have had the honor to tell 
 you, Monsieur le Chevalier. We look over monseigneur's 
 sheep and goats; we make the shepherds dance to pipes 
 and reeds, as is written in a book monseigneur has in his 
 library, which is called 'Bergeries.' The author died about 
 a month ago." 
 
 "Monsieur Racan, perhaps?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes, that was his name — Monsieur Racan. But that is 
 not all; we angle in the little canal, after which we dine, 
 crowned with lowers. That is Wednesday." 
 
124 THE flCOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 '■Teste!" said D'Artagnan; "you don't divide youf 
 pleasures badly. And Thursday? — what can be left for 
 poor Thursday?" 
 
 "It is not very unfortunate, monsieur," said Mousque* 
 ton, smiling. "Thursday, Olympian pleasures. Ah, mon- 
 sieur, that is superb! We get together all monseigneur's 
 young vassals, and we make them throw the disk, wrestle, 
 and run races. Monseigneur can't run now, no more can I; 
 but monseigneur throws the disk as nobody else can throw 
 it. And when he does deal a blow, oh, that proves a mis- 
 fortune!" 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; we were obliged to renounce the cestus. 
 He cracked heads, he broke jaws, beat in ribs. It was 
 charming sport; but nobody was willing to play with him." 
 
 "Then his wrist " 
 
 "Oh, monsieur, more firm than ever. Monseigneur gets 
 a trifle weaker in his legs — he confesses that himself; but 
 his strength has all taken refuge in his arms, so that " 
 
 "So that he can knock down bullocks, as he used for- 
 merly." 
 
 "Monsieur, better than that — he beats in walls. Lately, 
 after having supped with one of our farmers — you know 
 how popular and kind monseigneur is — after supper, as a 
 joke, he struck the wall a blow. The wall crumbled away 
 beneath his hand, the roof fell in, and three men and an 
 old woman were stifled." 
 
 "Good God, Mousqueton! And your master?" 
 
 "Oil, monseigneur, his head had a little skin rubbed off. 
 We bathed the wounds with some water which the monks 
 gave us. But there was nothing the matter with his hand." 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 "No, nothing, monsieur." 
 
 "Deuce take the Olympic pleasures! They must cost 
 your master too dear; for widows and orphans " 
 
 "They all had pensions, monsieur; a tenth of monsei- 
 gneur's revenue is spent in that way." 
 
 "Then pass on to Friday," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Friday, noble and warlike pleasures. We hunt, we 
 fence, we dress falcon, s and break horses. Then, Saturday 
 is the day for intellectual pleasures; we furnish our minds; 
 we look at monseigneur's pictures and statues; we write, 
 even, and trace plans; and then we fire monseigneur's 
 cannon." 
 
 "You draw plans and fire cannon?" 
 
1H1 VtCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 125 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Why, my friend," said D'Artagnan. "Monsieur du 
 Vallon, in truth, possesses the most subtle and amiable 
 mind that I know. But there is one kind of pleasure you 
 have forgotten, it appears to me." 
 
 "What is that, monsieur?" asked Mousqueton, with 
 anxiety. 
 
 "The material pleasures." 
 
 Mousqueton colored. "What do you mean by that, 
 monsieur?" said he, casting down his eyes. 
 
 "I mean the table — good wine — evenings occupied in the 
 circulation of the bottle." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur, we don't reckon those pleasures — we 
 practice them every day." 
 
 "My brave Mousqueton," resumed D'Artagnan, "pardon 
 me, but I was so absorbed in your charming recital that I 
 have forgotten the principal object of our conversation, 
 which was to learn what Monsieur le Vicaire-General d'Her- 
 blay could have to write to your master about?" 
 
 "That is true, monsieur," said Mousqueton; "the pleas- 
 ures have misled us. Well, monsieur, this is the whole 
 affair." 
 
 "I am all attention, Mousqueton." 
 
 "On Wednesday " 
 
 "The day of the champMre pleasures?" 
 
 "Yes — a letter arrived; he received it from my hands, 
 I had recognized the writing." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Monsieur read it, and cried out, 'Quick! my horses, my 
 arms!' " 
 
 "Oh, good Lord! then it was for some duel?" said 
 D'Artagnan. 
 
 "No, monsieur; there were only these words: 'Dear Por- 
 thos, set out, if you would wish to arrive before the Equinox. 
 I expect you.' " 
 
 "Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan thoughtfully, "that is 
 pressing, apparently." 
 
 "I think so; therefore," continued Mousqueton, "mon- 
 seigneur set out the very same day with his secretary, in 
 order to endeavor to arrive in time." 
 
 "And did he arrive in time?" 
 
 "1 hope so. Monseigneur, who is hasty, as. you know, 
 monsieur, repeated unceasingly, 'Tonne Dieu ! What can 
 this mean? The Equinox? Never mind, the fallow muai 
 be well mounted if he arrives before 1 do.' ' 
 
136 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 "And you think Porthoswill have arrived first, do you? - 
 asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I am sure of it. This Equinox, however rich he mny 
 be, has certainly no horses so good as monseigneur's." 
 
 D'Artagnan repressed his inclination to laugh, because 
 the brevity of Aramis' letter gave rise to reflection. He 
 followed Mousqueton, or, rather, Mousqueton's chariot, to 
 the castle. He sat down to a sumptuous table, of which 
 they did him the honors as to a king. But he could draw 
 nothing from Mousqueton — the faithful servant seemed to 
 ahed tears at will, but that was II. 
 
 D'Artagnan, after a night passed in an excellent bed, 
 reflected much upon the meaning of Aramis' letter; puz< 
 zled himself as to the relation of the Equinox with the 
 affairs of Porthos; and being unable to make anything out, 
 unless it concerned some amour of the bishop's, for which 
 it was necessary that the days and nights should be equal, 
 D'Artagnan left Pierrefonds as he had left Melun, as he 
 had left the chateau of the Comte de la Fere. It was not, 
 however, without a melancholy, which might by good right 
 pass for one of the dullest of D'Artagnan's humors. His 
 head cast down, his eyes fixed, he suffered his legs to hang 
 on each side of his horse, and said to himself, in that vague 
 sort of reverie which ascends sometimes to the sublimest 
 eloquence: 
 
 "No more friends! no more future! no more anything! 
 My energies are broken like the bonds of our ancient 
 friendship. Oh, old age arrives, cold and inexorable; it 
 envelopes in its funereal crape aP that was brillant, all that 
 was embalming in my youth; + hen it throws that sweet 
 burden on its shoulders and carries it away with the rest 
 into the fathomless gulf of deat\." 
 
 A shudder crept through the heart of the Gascon, so 
 brave and so strong against all the misfortunes of life; and 
 during some moments the clouds appeared black to him, 
 the earth slippery and full of pits as that of cemeteries. 
 
 "Whither am I going?" said he to himself. "What am 
 I going to do? Alone, quite alone — without family, with- 
 out friends! Bah!" cried he all at once. And he clapped 
 spurs to his horse, who, having found nothing melancholy 
 in the heavy oats of Pierrefonds, profited by this permis- 
 sion to show his gayety in a gallop which absorbed two 
 leagues. "To Paris!" said D'Artagnan to himself. And 
 on the morrow he alighted in Paris. He had devoted six 
 days to this journey. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BIUGELONNE. 12? 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 i 
 
 WHAT D'AKTAGNAN WENT TO DO IN PARIS. 
 
 The lieutenant dismounted before a shop in the Rue de c 
 [Lombards, at the sign of the Pilon d'Or. A man of good 
 appearance, wearing a white apron, and stroking his grfjy 
 ■Eustache with a large hand, uttered a cry of joy on per- 
 ceiving the pied horse. "Monsieur le Chevalier/' said he > 
 "ah, is that you?" 
 
 " Bon jour, Planchet," replied D'Artagnan, stooping to 
 enter the shop. 
 
 "Quick, somebody," cried Planchet, "to look after Mon- 
 sieur d'Artagnan's horse — somebody to get ready his charm 
 )ber — somebody to prepare his supper." 
 
 "Thanks, Planchet. Good-day, my children," said 
 D'Artagnan to the eager boys. 
 
 "Allow me to send off this coffee, this treacle, and these 
 raisins," said Planchet; "they are for the office of Monsieur 
 le Surintendant." 
 
 "Send them off, send them off!" 
 
 "That is only the affair of a moment, then we will sup." 
 
 "Order so that we may sup alone; I want to speak to 
 :ycu." 
 
 Planchet looked at his old master in a significant manner. 
 
 "Oh, be at ease, it is nothing unpleasant," said D'Ar- 
 tagnan. 
 
 "So much the better — so much the better!" And Plan- 
 ohet breathed freely again, while D'Artagnan seated him- 
 self quietly down in the shop, upon a bale of corks, and 
 took connaissance of the localities. The shop was well 
 stocked; there was a mingled perfume of ginger, cinnamon, 
 and ground pepper, which made D'Artagnan sneeze. The 
 shop-boys, proud of being in company with so'renowned a 
 man of war, of a lieutenant of musketeers, who approached 
 the person of the D king, began ^to work with an enthusiasm 
 which was something like delirium, and to serve the cus- 
 tomers with a disdainful precipitation that was remarked 
 by several. 
 
 Planchet put away his money and made up his accounts 
 imid civilities addressed to his old master. Planchet had 
 with his equals the short speech and the haughty familiar- 
 ity of the rich shopkeeper who serves everybody and waits 
 for nobody. D'Artagnan observed this shade with a pleas- 
 ure w hich we will analyze presently. He saw night come 
 
if% THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE. 
 
 on by degrees, and at length Plr.nchet conducted him to a 
 chamber on the first story, where, amid bales and chests, a 
 table very nicely set out awaited the two guests. 
 
 D'Artagnan took advantage of a moment's pause to ex- 
 amine the countenance of Planchet, whom he had not seen 
 for a year past. The shrewd Planchet had acquired a slight 
 protuberance in front, but his countenance was not puffed. 
 His keen eyes still played with facility in its deep-sunk 
 orbit; and fat, which levels all the characteristic saliences 
 of the human face, had not yet touched either his high 
 cheek-bones, the index of cunning and cupidity, or his 
 pointed chin, the index of acuteness and perseverance. 
 Planchet reigned with as much majesty in his dining-room 
 as in his shop. He set before his master a frugal, but a 
 perfectly Parisian repast; roast meat, cooked at the baker's, 
 with vegetables, salad, and a dessert borrowed from the 
 shop itself. D'Artagnan was pleased that the grocer had 
 drawn from behind the fagots a bottle of that Anjou wine 
 which, during all his life, had been D'Artagnan's wine by 
 predilection. 
 
 ''Formerly, monsieur," said Planchet, with a smile full 
 of bonhomie, "it was I who drank your wine; now you do 
 me the honor to drink mine." 
 
 "And, thank God, friend Planchet, I shall drink it for a 
 long time to come, I hope; for at present I am free." 
 
 "Free? You have leave of absence, monsieur?" 
 
 "Unlimited." 
 
 "You are leaving the service?" said Planchet, stupefied. 
 
 "Yes, I am resting." 
 
 "And the king?" cried Planchet, who could not suppose 
 it possible that the king oould do without the services of 
 such a man as D'Artagnan. 
 
 "The king will try his fortune elsewhere. But we have 
 supped well, you are disposed to enjoy yourself; you pro- 
 voke me to repose confidence in you. Open your ears, 
 then." 
 
 "They are open." And Planchet, with a laugh more 
 frank than cunning, opened a bottle of white wine. 
 
 "Leave me my reason, though." 
 
 "Oh, as to losing your head — you, monsieur!" 
 
 "Now my head is my own, and I mean to take better 
 care of it than ever. In the first place, we will talk of 
 finance. How fares your money-box?" 
 
 "Wonderfully well, monsieur. The twenty thousand 
 livres I had of you are still employed in my trade, in which 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BR AGELONG E. 129 
 
 I they bring me nine per cent. I give you seven, so I gain 
 ' two by you." 
 
 ''And you are still satisfied?" 
 
 "Delighted. Have you brought me any more?" 
 
 ''Better than that. But do you want any?" 
 
 "Oh! not at all. Every one is willing to trust me now. 
 I am extending my business." 
 
 "That was your project." 
 
 "I play the banker a little. I buy goods of my necessitous 
 brethren; I lend money to those who are not ready for their 
 payments." 
 
 "Without usury?" 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! in the course of the last week I have had 
 t two meetings on the boulevards, on account of the word 
 'you have just pronounced." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "You shall see; it concerned a loan. The borrower gives 
 me in pledge some raw sugars, upon condition that I should 
 sell if repayment were not made at a fixed period. I lent 
 a thousand livres. He does not pay me, and I sell the 
 sugars for thirteen hundred livres. He learns this and 
 claims a hundred crowns. Ma foi ! I refused, pretending 
 ■that I could not sell them for more than nine hundred 
 livres. He accused me of usury. I begged him to repeat 
 that word to me behind the boulevards. He was an old 
 guard, and he came; and I passed your sword through his 
 i left thigh." 
 
 lt Tu dieul what a pretty sort of banker you make!" said 
 iD'Artagnan. 
 
 "For above thirteen per cent. I fight," replied Planchet; 
 '"that is my character." 
 
 "Take only twelve," said D'Artagnan, "and call the rest 
 [premium and brokerage." 
 
 "You are right, monsieur; but to your business." 
 
 "Ah! Planchet, it is very long and very hard to speak. 3 ' 
 
 "Do speak it, nevertheless." 
 
 D'Artagnan twisted his mustache like a man embarrassed 
 with the confidence he is about to repose, and mistrustful 
 of his confidant. 
 
 "Is it an investment?" asked Planchet. 
 
 "Why, yes." 
 
 "At good profit?" 
 
 "A capital profit, four hundred per cent., Planchet." 
 
 Planchet gave such a blow with his fist upon the table 
 that the bottles bounded as if they had been frightened. 
 
ISO THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Good heavens! is that possible?" 
 
 "I think it will be more," replied D'Artagnan coolly; 
 "but I like to lay it at the lowest." 
 
 "The devil!" said Planchet, drawing nearer. "Why, 
 monsieur, that is magnificent! Can one place much men ay 
 in it?" 
 
 "Twenty thousand livres each, Planchet. " 
 
 "Why, that is all you have, monsieur. For how long a 
 time?" 
 
 "For a month." 
 
 "And that will give us " 
 
 ' "Fifty thousand livres each, profit." 
 
 "It is monstrous! It is worth while to fight for such 
 interest as that!" 
 
 "In fact, I believe it will be necessary to fight not 
 little," said D'Artagnan, with the same tranquillity; "but 
 this time there are two of us, Planchet, and I will take all 
 the blows to myself." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! I will not allow that." 
 
 "Planchet, you cannot be concerned in it; you would be 
 obliged to leave your business and your family." 
 
 "The affair is not in Paris, then?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Abroad?" 
 
 "In England." 
 
 "A speculative country, that is true," said Planchet; "a 
 country I am well acquainted with. What sort of an affair, 
 monsieur, without too much curiosity?" 
 
 "Planchet, it is a restoration." 
 
 "Of monuments?" 
 
 "Yes, of monuments; we will restore Whitehall." 
 
 "That is important. And in a month, you think?" 
 
 "I will undertake it." 
 
 "That concerns you, monsieur, and when once you are 
 engaged • 
 
 "Yes, that concerns me. I know that I am about; never- 
 theless, I will freely consult with you." 
 
 "You do me great honor; but I know very little about 
 architecture." 
 
 "Planchet, you are wrong; you are an excellent architect, 
 quite as good as I am, for the case in question." 
 
 "Thanks, monsieur. But 3 T our old friends of the mus- 
 keteers?" , 
 
 "I have been, I confess, tempted to name the thing to 
 those gentlemen, but they are ail absent from their houses. 
 It is vexatious, for I kuow uone more bold or more able." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 131 
 
 "Ah! then it appears there will be an opposition, and the 
 enterprise will be disputed?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Planchet, yes." 
 
 "I burn to know the details, monsieur." 
 
 "They are these, Planchet — close all the doors firmly." 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." And Planchet double^.ocked them. 
 
 "That is well; now draw near." 
 
 Planchet obeyed. 
 
 "And open the window, because the noise of the passers-by 
 vnd the carts will deafen all who might hear us. Planchet 
 jpened the window as desired, and the puff of tumult 
 vbich filled the chamber with cries, wheels, barkings, and 
 [steps deafened D'Artagnan himself, as he had wished. He 
 Lhen swallowed a glass of white wine, and commenced in 
 
 ese terms: "Planchet, I have an idea." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur! I recognize you so well in that!" replied 
 ?lanchet, panting with emotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 )F THE SOCIETY "WHICH WAS FORMED IN" THE RUE DES 
 LOMBARDS, AT THE SIGN OF THE PILON D'OR, TO 
 CARRY OUT THE IDEA OF M. D'ARTAGNAN. 
 
 After an instant of silence, in which D'Artagnan ap- 
 oeared to be collecting, not one idea, but all his ideas: "It 
 ':annot be, my dear Planchet," said he, "that you have not 
 leard speak of His Majesty Charles I. of England?" 
 
 "Alas! yes, monsieur, since you left France in order to 
 :arry him assistance, and that, in spite of that assistance, 
 ie fell, and was near dragging you down in his fall." 
 
 "Exactly so; I see you have a good memory, Planchet." 
 
 "Peste! the astonishing thing would be if I could have 
 ost that memory, however bad it might have been. When 
 »ne has heard Grimaud, who, you know, is not given to 
 .alking, relate how the head of King Charles fell, how you 
 ;ailed the half of a night in a scuttled vessel, and saw rise 
 ip upon the water that Monsieur Mordaunt with a certain 
 ;old-hafted poniard sticking in his breast, one is not very 
 ikely to forget such things." 
 
 "And yet there are people who forget them, Planchet." 
 
 "Yes, such as have not seen them, or have not heard 
 jrrimaud relate them." 
 
 "Well, it is all the better that you recollect all that; I 
 
132 THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE. 
 
 shall only have to remind you of one thing, and that is \,hai 
 Charles I. had a son." 
 
 "Without contradicting you, monsieur, he had two," said 
 Planchet; "for I saw the second in Paris, Monsieur le Duke 
 of York, one day, as he was going to the Palais Royal, and 
 I was told that he was not the eldest son of Charles I. As 
 to the eldest, I have the honor of knowing him by name, 
 but not personally." 
 
 "That is exactly the point, Planchet, we must come to,, 
 it is to this eldest son, formerly called the Prince of Wales s 
 and who is now styled Charles II., King of England." 
 
 "A king without a kingdom, monsieur," replied Plan* 
 chet sententiously. 
 
 "Yes, Planchet, and, you may add, an unfortunate 
 prince, more unfortunate than a man of the dregs of the 
 people in the worst quarter of Paris." 
 
 Planchet made a gesture full of that sort of compassion 
 which we grant to strangers with whom we think we can 
 never possibly find ourselves in contact. Besides, he did 
 not see in this politico-sentimental operation any sign of the 
 commercial idea of M. d'Artagnan, and it was in this idea 
 that D'Artagnan, who was, by habit, pretty well acquainted 
 with men and things, had principally interested Planchet. 
 
 "I am coming to our business. This young Prince of 
 Wales, a king without a kingdom, as you have so well said, 
 Planchet, has interested me. I, D'Artagnan, have seen 
 him begging assistance of Mazarin, who is a cuistre, and 
 the aid of Louis, who is a child, and it appeared to me, who 
 am acquainted with such things, that in the intelligent eye 
 of the fallen king, in the nobleness of his whole person, a 
 nobleness apparent above all his miseries, I could discern 
 the stuff of a man and the heart of a king." 
 
 Planchet tacitly approved of all this; but it did not at 
 all, in his eyes at least, throw any light upon D'Artagnan 's 
 idea. The latter continued: "This, then, is the reasoning 
 which I made with myself. Listen attentively, Planchet, 
 for we are coming to the conclusion." 
 
 "I am listening." 
 
 "Kings are not so thickly sown upon the earth that 
 people can find them whenever they want them. Now, this 
 king without a kingdom is, in my opinion, a grain of seed 
 which will blossom in some season or other, provided a skill- 
 ful, discreet, and vigorous hand sow it duly and truly, 
 selecting soil, sky, and time.'* 
 
 Planchst still apnroved by a nod of his head, which 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. i33 
 
 ehowed that he did not perfectly comprehend all that was 
 said . 
 
 " 'Poor little seed of a king,' said I to myself; and really 
 I was affected, Planchet, which lead me to think that I am 
 entering upon a foolish business. And that is why I wished 
 to consult you, my friend." 
 
 Planchet colored with pleasure and pride. 
 
 " 'Poor little seed of a king! I will pick you up and caai. 
 you into good ground.' " 
 
 "Good God!" said Planchet, looking earnestly at his old 
 master, as if in doubt of the state of his reason. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" said D'Artagnan; "who hurts you? 1 '* 
 
 "Me! nothing, monsieur." 
 
 "You said, 'Good God!'" 
 
 "Did I?" 
 
 "I am sure you did. Can you already understand?' 5 
 
 "I confess, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that I am afraid •** 
 
 "To understand?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "To understand that I wished to replace upon his throne 
 this King Charles II., who has no throne? Is that it?" 
 
 Planchet made a prodigious bound in his chair. "Ah, 
 ah!" said he, in evident terror, "that is what you call a 
 restoration!" 
 
 "Yes, Planchet; is not that the proper term for it?" 
 
 "Oh, no doubt, no doubt! But have you reflected 
 seriously?" 
 
 "Upon what?" 
 
 "Upon what is goirlg'inr yonder." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "In England." 
 
 "And what is that? Let us see, Planchet." 
 
 "In the first place, monsieur, I ask your pardon for med 
 dling in these things, which have nothing to do with mj 
 trade; but since it is an affair that you propose to me — io\ 
 you propose an affair to me, do you not?" 
 
 "A superb one, Planchet." 
 
 "But as it is business you propose to me, I have the righl 
 to discuss it." 
 
 "Discuss it, Planchet; out of discussion is born light*" 
 
 "Well, then, since I have monsieur's permission, I will 
 tell him that there is yonder, in the first place, the parlia- 
 ment." 
 
 "Well, next?" 
 
 "And then the army.** 
 
1M THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''Good! Do you see anything else?'* 
 
 "Why, then the nation." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "The nation which consented to the overthrow and death 
 of the late king, the father of this, and which will not be 
 willing to belie its acts," 
 
 "Planchet," said D'Artagnan, "you reason like a cheese! 
 The nation — the nation is tired of these gentlemen who 
 give themselves such barbarous names, and who sing songa 
 to it. Chant for chant, my dear Planchet; I have remarked 
 that nations prefer singing a merry chant to the plain 
 chant. Kemember the Fronde; what did they sing in those 
 times? Well, those were good times." 
 
 "Not too good, not too good! I was near being hung in 
 those times." 
 
 "Well, but you were nofc." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And you laid the foundation of your fortune in the 
 midst of all those songs?" 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "You have nothing to say against them, then." 
 
 "Well, I return, then, to the army and parliament." 
 
 "I say that I borrow twenty thousand livres of Monsieur 
 Planchet, and that I put twenty thousand livres of my own 
 to it; and with these forty thousand livres I raise an army." 
 
 Planchet clasped his hands; he saw D'Artagnan was in 
 earnest, and, in good truth, he believed his master had lost 
 his senses. 
 
 "An army! ah, monsieur," said he, with his most agreea- 
 ble smile, for fear of irritating the madman, and rendering 
 him furious, "an army! How many?" 
 
 "Of forty men," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Forty against forty thousand! that is not enough. 1 
 know very well that you, Monsieur D'Artagnan, alone, are 
 equal to a thousand men; but where are we to find thirty- 
 nine men equal to you? Or, if we could find them, who 
 would furnish you with money to pay them?" 
 
 "Not bad, Planchet. Ah, the devil! you play the 
 courtier." 
 
 "No, monsieur, I speak what I think, and that is exactly 
 why I say that, in the first pitched battle you fight with 
 your forty men, I am very much afraid " 
 
 "Therefore, I will fight no pitched battles, my dear Plan- 
 chet," said the Gascon, laughing. "We have very fine ex- 
 amples in antiquity of skillful retreats and marches, which 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 135 
 
 consisted in avoiding the enemy instead of attacking them. 
 You should know that, Planchet, who commanded the 
 Parisians the day on which they ought to have fought 
 against the musketeers, and who so well calculated marches 
 and counter-marches, that you never left the Palais Eoyal." 
 
 Planchet could not forbear laughing. "It is plain," 
 replied he, "that if your forty men conceal themselves, and. 
 are not unskillful, they may hope not to be beaten; but you 
 propose to yourself some result, do you not?" 
 
 "No doubt. This, then, in my opinion, is the plan to be 
 proceeded, upon in order to replace quickly His Majesty 
 Charles II. on his throne." 
 
 "Good!" said Planchet, redoubling his attention; "let us 
 see your plan. But in the first place, it appears to me we 
 are forgetting something." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "We have set aside the nation which prefers singing 
 merry songs to psalms, and the army which we will not fight; 
 but the parliament remains, and that seldom sings." 
 
 "And which does not fight, either. How is it, Planchet, 
 that an intelligent man like you should take any heed of a 
 set of brawlers who call themselves Eumps and Barebones. 
 The parliament does not trouble me at all, Planchet." 
 
 "As soon as it ceases to trouble you, monsieur, let us 
 pass on." 
 
 "Yes, and arrive at the result. You remember Crom- 
 well, Planchet?" 
 
 "I have heard a great deal of talk about him." 
 
 "He was a rough soldier." 
 
 "And a terrible eater, moreover." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Why, at one gulp he swallowed all England." 
 
 "Well, Planchet, the evening before the day on which he 
 swallowed England, if any one had swallowed Monsieur 
 Cromwell?" 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! that is one of the axioms of mathematics 
 that the container must be greater than the contained." 
 
 "Very well! That is our affair, Planchet." 
 
 "But Monsieur Cromwell is dead, and his container is 
 now the tomb." 
 
 "My dear Planchet, I see with pleasure that you have 
 not only become a mathematician, but a philosopher." 
 
 "Monsieur, in my grocery business I use much printed 
 paper, and that instructs me." 
 
 "Bravo! You know then^ in that case — for you have not 
 
138 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELO^XE. 
 
 learned mathematics and philosophy without a little history 
 — that after this Cromwell so great, there came one who 
 was very little." 
 
 "Yes; he was named Richard, and he has done as you 
 have, Monsieur d'Artagnan — he has given in his resigna- 
 tion." 
 
 "Very well said — very well! After the great man who is 
 dead, after the little one who gave in his resignation, there 
 is come a third. This one is named Monk; he is an able 
 general, considering he has never fought a battle; he is a 
 skillful diplomatist, considering that he never speaks in 
 public, and that having to say 'good-day' to a man, he 
 meditates twelve hours, and ends by saying 'good-night;' 
 which make people exclaim 'miracle!' seeing that it falls 
 out correctly." 
 
 "That is rather strong," said Planchet; "but I know 
 another polite man who resembles him very much." 
 
 "Monsieur Mazarin, don't you mean?" 
 
 "Himself." 
 
 "You are right, Planchet; only Monsieur Mazarin does 
 not aspire to the throne of France; and that changes every- 
 thing. Do you see? Well, this Monsieur Monk, who has 
 England ready-roasted in his plate, and who is already 
 opening his mouth to swallow it — this Monsieur Monk, who 
 says to the people of Charles II., and to Charles II. himself, 
 'Nescio vos' — " 
 
 "I don't understand English," said Planchet. 
 
 "Yes, but I understand it," said D'Artagnan. " 'Nescio 
 vos' means, 'I do not know you.' This Monsieur Monk, 
 the most important man in England, when he shall have 
 swallowed it " 
 
 "Well?" asked Planchet. 
 
 "Well, my friend, I will go over yonder, and with my 
 forty men I will carry him off, pack him up, and bring him 
 into France, where two modes of proceeding present them- 
 selves to my dazzled eyes." 
 
 "Oh, and to mine too!" cried Planchet, transported with 
 enthusiasm. "We will put him in a cage and show him for 
 money." 
 
 "Well, Planchet, that is a third plan, of which I had not 
 thought." 
 
 "Do you think it a good one?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly; but I think mine better." 
 
 "Let us see yours, then." 
 
 "In the first place. I will set a ransom on him," 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 131 
 
 "Of how much?" 
 
 "Peste ! a fellow like that must be well worth a hundred 
 thousand crowns." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" 
 
 '- You see, then — in the first place, a ransom of a hundred 
 thousand crowns." 
 
 "Or else " 
 
 "Or else, which is much better, I deliver him up to King 
 "Jharles, who, having no longer either a general or an army 
 f,o fear, nor a diplomatist to trick him, will restore himself, 
 and when once restored, will pay down to me the hundred 
 thousand crowns in question. -That is the idea I have 
 formed; what do you say to it, Planchet?" 
 
 "Magnificent, monsieur!" cried Planchet, trembling with 
 emotion. "How did you conceive that idea?" 
 
 "it came to me one morning on the banks of the Loire, 
 while our beloved king, Louis XIV., was pretending to 
 snivel upon the hand of Mademoiselle de MancinL" 
 
 "Monsieur, 1 declare, the idea is sublime. But " 
 
 "Ah! is there a lutf\ 
 
 "Permit me! But this is a little like the skin of that fine 
 bear — you know — that they were about to sell, but which it 
 was necessary to take from the back of the living bear. 
 Now, to take Monsieur Monk, there will be a bit of a scuffle, 
 I should think." 
 
 "No doubt; but as I shall raise an army to " 
 
 "Yes, yes; 1 understand, parbleu ! — a coupe de main. 
 Yes, then, monsieur, you will triumph, for no one equals 
 you in such sorts of encounters." 
 
 "I certainly am lucky in them," said D'Artagnan, with a 
 proud simplicity. "You know that if for this affair I had 
 my dear Athos, my brave Porthos, and my cunning Aramis, 
 the business would be settled; but they are all lost, as it 
 appears, and nohody knows where to find them. I will do 
 it, then, alone. Now, do you find the business good, anc? 
 the investment advantageous?" 
 
 "Too much so — too much so." 
 
 "How can that be? 51 ' 
 
 "Because fine things never reach the point expected." 
 
 "This is infallible, Planchec, and the proof is that I un- 
 dertake it. It will be for you a tolerably pretty gain, and 
 for me a very interesting stroke. It will be said, 'Such was 
 the old age of Monsieur d'Artagnan;' and 1 shall hold a 
 place in stories, and even in history itself, Planchet. I am 
 greedy of honor " 
 
138 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 '"Monsieur," cried Planchet, "when I think that it is 
 here in my home, in the midst of my sugar, my prunes, and 
 my cinnamon, that this gigantic project is ripened, my shop 
 seems a palace to me." 
 
 "Beware, beware, Planchet! If the least report of this 
 escapes, there is the Bastile for both of us. Beware, my 
 friend; for this is a plot we are hatching. Monsieur Monk 
 is the ally of Monsieur Mazarin — beware!" 
 
 "Monsieur, when a man has had the honor to belong tc 
 you, he knows nothing of fear; and when he has the advan ' 
 tage of being bound up in interests with you, he holds his 
 tongue." 
 
 "Very well; that is more your affair than mine, seeing 
 that in a week I shall be in England." 
 
 "Be gone, be gone, monsieur — the sooner the better." 
 
 "Is the money then ready?" 
 
 "It will be to-morrow; to-morrow you shall receive it 
 from my own hands. Will you have gold or silver?" 
 
 "Gold; that is most convenient. But how are we going 
 to arrange this? Let us see." 
 
 "Oh, good Lord! in the simplest way possible. You shall 
 give me a receipt, that is all." 
 
 "No, no," said D'Artagnan warmly; "we must preserve 
 order in all things." 
 
 "This is likewise my opinion; but with you, Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan " 
 
 "And if I should die yonder — if I am killed by a musket 
 ball — if I should burst with drinking beer?" 
 
 "Monsieur, I beg you to believe that in that case I should 
 be so much afflicted at your death, that I should think 
 nothing about the money." 
 
 "Thank you, Planchet; but that will do. We will, like 
 two lawyers' clerks, draw up together an agreement, a sort 
 of act, which may be called a deed of company." 
 
 "Willingly, monsieur." 
 
 "I know it is difficult to draw such a thing up, but will 
 try." 
 
 "Let us try, then." And Planchet went in search of 
 pen, ink, and paper. D'Artagnan took the pen and wrote: 
 
 "Between Messire d'Artagnan, ex-lieutenant of the king's 
 musketeers, at present residing in the Rue Tiquetonne, 
 Hotel de la Chevrette; and the Sieur Planchet, grocer, re- 
 siding in the Rue des Lombards, at the sign of the Pilon 
 d'Or, it has been agreed as follows: A company, with & 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 139 
 
 capital of forty thousand livres, and formed for the purpose 
 of carrying out an idea conceived by Monsieur d'Artagnan, 
 and who approves of it in all points, will place twenty thou- 
 sand livres in the hands of Monsieur d'Artagnan. He will 
 require neither payment nor interest before the return of 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan from a voyage he is about to make 
 into England. On his part, Monsieur d'Artagnan under- 
 takes to find twenty thousand livres, which he will join to 
 the twenty thousand already laid down by the Sieur Plan- 
 chet. He will employ the said sum of forty thousand livrea 
 as good to him shall seem, but still in an undertaking which 
 is described below. On the day in which Monsieur d'Ar-. 
 tagnan shall have re-established, by whatever means, His 
 Majesty King Charles II. upon the throne of England, ho 
 will pay into the hands of Monsieur Planchet the sum 
 of " 
 
 "The sum of a hundred and fifty thousand livres,'' said 
 Planchet innocently, perceiving that D'Artagnan hesitated. 
 
 "Oh, the devil, no!" said D'Artagnan, "the division 
 cannot be made by half; that would not be just." 
 
 "And yet, monsieur, we each lay down half," objected 
 Planchet timidly. 
 
 "Yes; but listen to this clause, my dear Planchet, and if 
 you do not find it equitable in every respect when it is 
 written, well, we can scratch it out again: 
 
 " 'Nevertheless, as Monsieur d'Artagnan brings to the 
 association, besides his capital of twenty thousand livres, 
 his time, his idea, his industry, and his skin — things which 
 he appreciates strongly, particularly the last — Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan will keep, of the three hundred thousand livres, 
 two hundred thousand livres for himself, which will make 
 his share two thirds.' " 
 
 "Very well," said Planchet. 
 
 "Is it just?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Perfectly just, monsieur." 
 
 "And you will be contented with a hundred thousand 
 Uvres?" 
 
 "Peste! I think so. A hundred thousand for twenty 
 thousand!" 
 
 "And in a month, understand." 
 
 "How, in a month?" 
 
 "Yes, I only ask one month." 
 
!40 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 f ' Monsieur/' said Planchet generously, "I will g?ve you 
 six weeks." 
 
 "Thank you,' 5 replied the musketeer civilly Aftef 
 which the two partners reperused their deed. 
 
 "That is perfect, monsieur," said Planchet; "and the 
 late Monsieur Coquenard, the first husband of Madame Is 
 Baronne du Vallon, could net have done it better." 
 
 "Do you find it so? Let us sign it, then." And both 
 affixed their signatures. 
 
 "In this fashion," said D'Artagnan, "I shall have no 
 obligations to any one." 
 
 "But I shall be under obligations to you," said Planchet. 
 
 "No; for whatever store I set by it, Planchet, I may lose 
 my skin yonder, and you will lose all. Apropos — peste ! — 
 that makes me think of the principal, an indispensable 
 clause. I will write it: 
 
 " 'In the case of Monsieur d'Artagnan succumbing in 
 this enterprise, liquidation will be considered made, and 
 the Sieur Planchet will give quittance from that moment to 
 the shade of Messire d'Artagnan for the twenty thousand 
 livres paid by him into the caisse of the said company.' " 
 
 This last clause made Planchet knit his brows a little; 
 but when he saw the brilliant eye, the muscular hand, the 
 back so supple and so strong, of his associate, he regained 
 his courage, and, without regret, he at once added another 
 stroke to his signature. D'Artagnan did the same. Thus 
 was drawn the first act of a company known*: perhaps such 
 things have been abused a little since, both ir form and 
 principle. 
 
 "Now," said Planchet, pouring out the last glass of 
 Anjou wine for D'Artagnan, "now go to sleep, my deal 
 master." 
 
 "No," replied D'Artagnan; "for the most difficult part 
 now remains to be done, and I will think over that difficult 
 part." 
 
 "Bah!" said Planchet; "I have such a great confidence 
 in you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that 1 would not give my 
 hundred thousand livres for ninety thousand livres down." 
 
 "And devil take me if I don't think you are right!" 
 Upon which D'Artagnan took a candle and went up to hi? 
 bedroom. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 IN WHICH D'ARTAGNAN PREPARES TO TRAVEL FOR TI1B 
 HOUSE OF PLANCHET & COMPANY. 
 
 D'Artagnan reflected to such good purpose during the 
 Alight that his plan was settled by morning. "This is it," 
 said he, sitting up in bed, supporting his elbow on his knee, 
 and his chin in his hand — "this is it. I will seek out forty 
 steady, firm men, recruited among people a little compro 
 mised, but having habits of discipline. I will promise them 
 five hundred livres for a month if they return; nothing if 
 they do not return, or half for their kindred. As to food 
 and lodging, that concerns the English, who have beasts in 
 their pastures, bacon in their bacon-racks, fowls in their 
 poultry-yards, and corn in their barns. I will present my- 
 self to General Monk with my little body of troops. He 
 will receive me. I shall gain his confidence, and will abuse 
 it as soon as possible." 
 
 But without going further, D'Artagnan shook his head 
 and interrupted himself. "No," said he; "I should not 
 dare to relate this to Athos; the means is not then honor- 
 able. I must use violence," continued he, "very certainly, 
 I must, but without compromising my loyalty. With forty 
 men I will traverse the country as a partisan. But if I fall 
 in with, not forty thousand English, as Planchet said, but 
 purely and simply with four hundred, I shall be beaten. 
 Supposing that among my forty warriors there should be 
 found at least ten stupid ones — ten who will allow them- 
 selves to be killed one after the other, from mere folly? 
 No; it is, in fact, impossible to find forty men to be de- 
 pended upon — they do not exist. I must learn how to be 
 contented with thirty. With ten men less I should have 
 the right of avoiding any armed rencounter, on account of 
 the small number of my people; and if the rencounter should 
 take place, my chance is much more certain with thirty 
 men than forty. Besides, I should save five thousand 
 francs; that is to say, the eighth of my capital; that is 
 worth the trial. This being so, I should have thirty men. 
 I will divide them into three bands, we will spread ourselves 
 about over the country, with an injunction to reunite at a 
 given moment; in this fashion, ten by ten, we should excite 
 no suspicion — we should pass unperceived. Yes, yes, thirty 
 — that is a magic number. There are three tens — thr.ee, 
 tnat divine number! And then, truly, a company of thirty 
 
142 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONSTE. 
 
 men, when all together, will look rather imposing. Ah, 
 stupid wretch that I am!" continued D'Artagnan, "I want 
 thirty horses. That is ruinous. Where the devil was my 
 head when I forgot the horses? We cannot, however, think 
 of striking such a blow without horses. Well, so be it, that 
 sacrifice must be made; we can get the horses in the country 
 — they are not bad, besides. But I forgot — peste! Three 
 bands — that necessitates three leaders; there is the diffi- 
 culty. Of the three commanders I have already one — that 
 is myself; yes, but the two others will of themselves cost, 
 almost as much money as all the rest of the troop. No; 
 decidedly I must have but one lieutenant. In that case, 
 then, I should reduce my troop to twenty men. I know 
 very well that twenty men is but very little; but since with 
 thirty I was determined not to seek to come to blows, I 
 should do so more carefully still with twenty. Twenty — 
 that is a round number; that, besides, reduces the number - 
 of horses by ten, which is a consideration; and then, with a 
 good lieutenant — Mordioux ! what things patience and 
 calculation are! Was I not going to embark with forty 
 men, and I have now reduced them to twenty for an equal 
 success? Ten thousand livres saved at one stroke, and 
 more safety; that is well! Now, then, let us see; we have 
 nothing to do but to find this lieutenant— let him be found, 
 then; and after — ? That is not so easy; he must be brave 
 and good, a second myself. Yes; but a lieutenant must 
 have my secret, and as that secret is worth a million, and I 
 shall only pay my man a thousand livres, fifteen hundred 
 at the most, my man will sell the secret to Monk. Mor- 
 dioux I no lieutenant. Besides, this man, were he as mute 
 as a disciple of Pythagoras, this man would be sure to have 
 in the troop some favorite soldier, whom he would make his 
 sergeant; the sergeant would penetrate, the secret of the 
 lieutenant, in case the latter should be honest and unwill- 
 ing to sell it. Then the sergeant, less honest and less ambi- 
 tious, will give up the whole for fifty thousand livres 
 Come, come! that is impossible. Decidedly the lieutenant 
 is impossible. But then I must have no fractions; I can- 
 not divide my troop into two, and act upon two points at 
 once, without another self, who — But what is the use of 
 acting upon two points, as we have only one man to take? 
 What can be the good to weaken the corps by placing the 
 right here, and the left there? A single corps, Mordioux ' 
 a single one, and that commanded by D'Artagnan. Very 
 well. But twenty men marching in one band are suspected 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE? 143 
 
 by everybody; twenty horsemen must not be seen march- 
 ing together, or a company will be detached against them, 
 and the orderly word will be required; and which company, 
 upon seeing the embarrassment of the troop in giving it, 
 would shoot Monsieur d'Artagnan and his men like so 
 many rabbits. I reduce myself then to ten men; in this 
 fashion I shall act simply and with unity; I shall be forced 
 to be prudent, which is half success in an affair of the kind 
 I am undertaking; a greater number^might, perhaps, have 
 drawn me into some folly. Ten horses are not many either 
 to buy or take. A capital idea; what tranquillity it infuses 
 into my mind! No more suspicions — no orderly words — no 
 more dangers! Ten men, they are valets or clerks. Ten 
 men, leading ten horses laden with merchandise of what- 
 ever kind, are tolerated, well received everywhere. Ten 
 men travel on account of the house of Planchet & Co., of 
 France; nothing can be said against that. These ten men, 
 clothed like manufacturers, have a good cutlass or a good 
 musketoon at their saddle-bow, and a good pistol in the 
 holster. They never allow themselves to be uneasy, because 
 they have no evil designs. They are perhaps, at bottom, a 
 little disposed to be smugglers; but what harm is in that? 
 Smuggling is not, like polygamy, a hanging offense. The 
 worst that can happen to us is the confiscation of our mer- 
 chandise. Our merchandise confiscated — a fine affair that. 
 Come, come! it is a superb plan. Ten men only — ten men, 
 whom I will engage for my service; ten men, who shall be 
 i as resolute as forty who would cost me four times as much, 
 i and to whom, for greater security, I will never open my 
 mouth as to my designs, and to whom I shall only say, 'My 
 friends, there is a blow to be struck.' Things being after 
 l this fashion, Satan will be very malicious if he plays me one 
 i of his tricks. Fifteen thousand livres saved — that's superb 
 —out of twenty!" 
 
 Thus fortified by his laborious calculations, D'Artagnan 
 : stopped at this plan, and determined to change nothing in 
 ; it. He had already, on a list furnished by his inexhausti- 
 ble memory, ten men illustrious among the seekers of ad- 
 ventures, ill-treated by fortune, and not on good terms with 
 justice. Upon this D'Artagnan rose, and instantly set off 
 on the search, telling Planchet not to expect; him at break- 
 fast, and perhaps not at dinner. A day and a half spent in 
 rummaging among certain cabins in Paris sufficed for his 
 recruiting; and, without allowing his adventurers to com- 
 imunicate with one another, he had picked up and got to- 
 
144 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB, 
 
 gether, in less than thirty hours, a charming collection of 
 ill-looking faces, speaking a French less pure than the Eng- 
 lish they were about to attempt. These men were, for the 
 most part, guards, whose merit D'Artagnan had had an 
 opportunity of appreciating in various rencounters, andwhom 
 drunkenness, unlucky sword-thrusts, unexpected winnings 
 at play, or the economical reforms of Mazarin, had forced 
 to seek shade and solitude, those two great consolers of 
 irritated and chafed spirits. They bore upon their coun- 
 tenances and in their vestments the traces of the heartaches 
 they had undergone. Some had their visages scarred, all 
 had their clothes in rags. D'Artagnan comforted the most 
 needy of these fraternal miserables by a prudent distribu- 
 tion of the crowns of the society; then having taken care 
 that these crowns should be employed in the physical im- 
 provement of the troop, he appointed a rendezvous with 
 them in the north of France, between Berghes and St. 
 Omer. Six days were allowed as the utmost term, and 
 D'Artagnan was sufficiently acquainted with the good-will, 
 the good-humor, and the relative probity of these illustrious 
 recruits, to be certain that not one of them would fail in 
 his appointment. These orders given, this rendezvous 
 fixed, he went to bid farewell to Planchet, who asked news 
 of his army. D'Artagnan did not think proper to inform 
 him of the reduction he had made in his personnel. He 
 feared he should make an abatement in the confidence of 
 his associate by such an avowal. Planchet was delighted to 
 learn that the army was levied, and that he, Planchet, 
 found himself a kind of half-king, who, from his throne- 
 counter, kept in pay a body of troops destined to make war 
 against perfidious Albion, that enemy of all true French 
 hearts. Planchet paid down, in double-louis, twenty thou- 
 sand livres to D'Artagnan, on the part of himself, Plan- 
 chet, and twenty thousand livres, still in double-louis, on 
 account of D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan placed each of the 
 twenty thousand francs in a bag, and weighing a bag in each 
 hand, "This money is very embarrassing, my dear Plan- 
 chet," said he. "Do you know this weighs thirty pounds?" 
 "Bah! your horse will carry that like a feather." 
 D'Artagnan shook his head. "Don't tell such things to 
 me, Planchet; a horse overloaded with thirty pounds, in 
 addition to the rider and his portmanteau, cannot cross a 
 river so easily — cannot leap over a wall or ditch so lightly; 
 and the horse failing, the horseman fails. It is true that 
 you. Planchet, who have served in the infantry, may not be 
 uv> .ue ol all that." 
 

 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. £.45 
 
 ''Then what is to be done, monsieur?" said Planchet, 
 greatly embarrassed. 
 
 "Listen to me," said D'Artagnan. "I will pay my army 
 on its return home. Keep my half of twenty thousand 
 livres, which you can make use of during that time." 
 
 "And my half?" said Planchet. ^ 
 
 "I will take that with me." 
 
 "Your confidence does me honor," said Planchet; "but 
 suppose you should not return?" 
 
 "That is possible, though not very probable. Then, 
 Planchet, in case I should not return — give me a pen; I will 
 make my will." D'Artagnan took a pen and some paper, 
 and wrote upon a plain sheet: 
 
 "I, D'Artagnan, possess twenty thousand livres, laid up, 
 sou by sou, during thirty years that I have been in the 
 service of his majesty the King of France. I leave five 
 thousand to Athos, five thousand to Porthos, and five thou- 
 sand to Aramis, that they may give the said sums in my 
 name and their own to my young friend, Eaoul, Vicomte de 
 Bragelonne. I give the remaining five thousand to Plan- 
 chet, that he may distribute the fifteen thousand with less 
 regret among my friends. With which purpose I sign these 
 presents. 
 
 "D'Artagnan." 
 
 Planchet appeared very curious to know what D'Artag- 
 nan had written. 
 
 "Here," said the musketeer, "read it." 
 
 On reading the last lines the tears came into Planchet's 
 eyes. "You think, then, that I would not have given the 
 money without that? Then I will have none of your five 
 thousand francs." 
 
 D'Artagnan smiled. "Accept it, accept it Planchet; and 
 in that way you will only lose fifteen thousand francs in- 
 stead of twenty thousand, and you will not be tempted to 
 disregard the signature of your master and friend by losing 
 nothing at all." 
 
 How well that dear M. d'Artagnan was acquainted with 
 the hearts of men and grocers! They who have pronounced 
 Don Quixote mad because he rode out to the conquest of an 
 empire with nobody but Sancho his squire, and they who 
 have pronounced Sancho mad because he accompanied his 
 master in his attempt to conquer the said empire, they cer- 
 tainly will have no hesitation its extending the same judg- 
 
146 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ment to D'Artagnan and Planchet. And yet the first passed 
 for one of the most subtle spirits among the astute spirits 
 of the court of France. As to the second, he had acquired 
 by good right the reputation of one of the longest heads 
 among the grocers of the Rue des Lombards; consequently 
 of Paris, and consequently of France. Now, to consider 
 these two men from the point of view in which you would 
 consider other men, and the means by the aid of which the}' 
 contemplated to restore a monarch to his throne, compara- 
 tively with other means, the shallowest brains of the coun- 
 try where brains are most shallow must have revolted against 
 the presumptuous madness of the lieutenant and the stupid- 
 ity of his associate. Fortunately, D'Artagnan was not a 
 man to listen to the idle talk of those around him, or to the 
 comments that were made on himself. He had adopted the 
 motto, "Act well, and let people talk." Planchet, on his 
 part, had adopted this, "Act, and say nothing." It re- 
 sulted from this, that, according to the custom of all 
 superior geniuses, these two men flattered themselves, intra 
 pectus, with being in the right against all who found fault 
 with them. 
 
 As a commencement, D'Artagnan set out in the finest of 
 possible weather, without a cloud in the heavens — without 
 a cloud on his mind, joyous and strong, calm and decided, 
 great in his resolution, and consequently carrying with him 
 a tenfold dose of that potent fluid which the shock of mind 
 caused to spring from the nerves, and which procure for the 
 human machine a force and an influence of which future 
 ages will render, according to all probability, an account 
 more arithmetically than we ean possibly do at present. 
 He was again, as in times past, in that same road of adven- 
 tures which had led him to Boulogne, and which he was 
 now traveling for the fourth time. It appeared to him that 
 he could almost recognize the trace of his own steps upon 
 , the road, and that of his fist upon the doors of the hostel- 
 ries; his memory, always active and present, brought back 
 that youth which had not, thirty years before, belied either 
 his great heart or his wrist of steel. What a rich nature 
 was that of this man! He had all passions, all defects, all 
 weaknesses, and the spirit of contradiction familiar to his 
 understanding, changed all these imperfections into corre- 
 sponding qualities. D'Artagnan, thanks to his ever-active 
 imagination, was afraid of a shadow, and ashamed of being 
 afraid, he marched straight up to that shadow, and then 
 became extravagant in his bravery, if the danger proved to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 14? 
 
 be real. Thus everything in him was emotion, and there- 
 fore enjoyment. He loved the society of others, but never 
 became tired of his own; and more than once, if he could 
 have been heard when he was alone, he might have been 
 seen laughing at the jokes he related to himself, or the 
 tricks his imagination created just live minutes before 
 ennui might have been looked for. D'Artagnan was not 
 perhaps so gay this time as he had been with the perspec- 
 tive of finding some good friends at Calais, instead of that 
 oi joining the ten scamps there; melancholy, however, did 
 not visit him above once a day, and it was about five visits 
 that he received from that somber deity before he got sight 
 of the sea at Boulogne, and then these visits were indeed 
 but short. But when once D'Artagnan found himself near 
 the field of action, all other feelings but that of confidence 
 disappeared never to return. From Boulogne he followed 
 the coast to Calais. Calais was the place of general ren- 
 dezvous, and at Calais he had named to each of his recruits 
 the hostelry of Le Grand Monarque, where living was not 
 extravagant, where sailors messed, and where men of the 
 sword, with sheath of leather, be it understood, found lodg- 
 ing, table, food, and all the comforts of life, for thirty sous 
 per diem. D'Artagnan proposed to himself to take them by 
 surprise in flagrante delicto of wandering life, and to judge 
 by the first appearance if he could reckon upon them as 
 trusty companions. 
 He arrived at Calais at half-past four in the afternoon. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 D'ARTAGNAN TRAVELS FOR THE HOUSE OP PLANCHET k 
 COMPANY. 
 
 The hostelry of Le Grand Monarque was situated in a 
 little street parallel to the port, without looking out upon 
 the port itself. Some lanes cut — as steps cut the two 
 parallels of the ladder — the two great straight lines of the 
 port and the street. By these lanes, passengers debouched 
 suddenly from the port into the street, from the street on 
 to the port. D'Artagnan, arrived at the port, took one of 
 these lanes, and came out in front of the hostelry of Le 
 Grand Monarque. The moment was well chosen, and might 
 remind D'Artagnan of his start in life at the hostelry of 
 the Franc-Meunier at Meune. Some sailors who had been 
 
148 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 
 
 playing at dice had knocked up a quarrel, and were threat- 
 ening each other furiously. The host, hostess, and two 
 lads were watching with anxiety the circle of these angry 
 gamblers, from the midst of which war seemed ready to 
 break forth, bristling with knives and hatchets. The play, 
 nevertheless, was continued. A stone bench was occupied 
 by two men, who appeared thence to watch the door; four 
 tables, placed at the back of the common chamber, were 
 occupied by eight other individuals. Neither the men at 
 the door nor those at the tables took any part in the play or 
 the quarrel. D'Artagnan recognized his ten men in these 
 cold, indifferent spectators. The quarrel went on increas- 
 ing. Every passion has, like the sea, its tide, which ascends 
 and descends. Arrived at the climax of passion, one sailor 
 overturned the table and the money which was upon it. 
 The table fell, and the money rolled about. In an instant 
 all belonging to the hostelry threw themselves upon the 
 stakes, and many a piece of silver was picked up by people 
 who stole away while the sailors were scuffling with one 
 another. 
 
 The two men on the bench and the eight at the tables, 
 although they seemed perfect strangers to one another, 
 these ten men alone, we say, appeared to have agreed to 
 remain impassible amid the cries of fury and chinking of 
 money. Two only contented themselves with repulsing 
 with their feet combatants who came under their table. 
 Two others, rather than take part in this disturbance^, 
 buried their hands in their pockets; and another two 
 jumped upon the table they occupied, as people do to avoid 
 being submerged by overflowing water. 
 
 "Come, come," said D'Artagnan to himself, not having 
 lost one of the details we have related, "this is a very fair 
 gathering — circumspect, calm, accustomed to disturbance, 
 acquainted with blows. Peste! I have been lucky." 
 
 All at once his attention was called to a particular part 
 of the room. The two men who had repulsed the strugglers 
 with their feet were assailed with abuse by the sailors, who 
 had become reconciled. One of them, half-drunk with 
 passion, and quite drunk with beer, came, in a menacing 
 manner, to demand of the shorter of these two sages by 
 what right he had touched with his foot creatures of the 
 good God who were not dogs. And while putting this 
 question, in order to make it more direct, he applied his 
 great fist to the nose of D'Artagnan's recruit. This man 
 became pale, without ita being discerned whether his pale- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELON*N>E. 149 
 
 mess arose from anger or from fear; seeing which, the sailor 
 concluded it was from fear, and raised his fist with the 
 manifest intention of letting it fall upon the head of the 
 stranger. But, without the threatened man having ap- 
 peared to move, he dealt the sailor such a severe blow in 
 the stomach as sent him rolling and howling to the other 
 side of the room. At the same instant, rallied by the esprit 
 de corps, all the comrades of the conquered man fell upon 
 the conqueror. The latter, with the same coolness of which 
 he had given proof, without committing the imprudence of 
 touching his arms, took up a beer-pot with a pewter lid, 
 and knocked down two or three of his assailants; then, as 
 he was about to yield to numbers, the seven other silent 
 men at the tables, who had not stirred, perceived that their 
 cause was at stake, and came to the rescue. At the same 
 time, the two indifferent spectators at the door turned 
 round with frowning brows, indicating their evident inten- 
 tion of taking the enemy in the rear, if the enemy did not 
 cease their aggressions. The host, his helpers, and two 
 watchmen who were passing, and who, from curiosity, had 
 penetrated too far into the room, were confounded in the 
 tumult and loaded with blows. The Parisians hit like 
 Cyclops, with an ensemble and a tactic delight to behold. 
 At length, obliged to beat a retreat before numbers, they 
 formed an intrenchment behind the great table, which they 
 raised by main force; while the two others, arming them- 
 selves each with a trestle, so that, using it like a great 
 sledgehammer, they knocked down at a blow eight sailors 
 upon whose heads they had brought their monstrous cata- 
 pult in play. The floor was already strewn with wounded, 
 and the room filled with cries and dust, when D'Artagnan, 
 satisfied with the test, advanced, sword in hand, and strik- 
 ing with the pommel every head that came in his way, he 
 uttered a vigorous hold! which put an instantaneous end to 
 the conflict. A great back-flood directly took place from 
 the center to the sides of the room, so that D'Artagnan 
 found himself isolated and dominator. 
 
 "What is ali this about?" then demanded he of the as- 
 sembly, with the majestic tone of Neptune pronouncing the 
 Quos ego. 
 
 At the very instant, at the first sound of his voice, to 
 carry on the Virgilian metaphor, D'Artagnan 's recruits, 
 recognizing each his sovereign lord, discontinued, at the 
 same time, his anger, his plank-fighting, and trestle blows. 
 On their side, the sailors, seeing that long naked sword, 
 
150 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONSTE. 
 
 that martial air, and the agile arm which came to the rescue 
 of their enemies, in the person of a man Avho seemed accus- 
 tomed to command, on their part, the sailors picked up 
 their wounded and their pitchers. The Parisians wiped 
 their brows, and viewed their leader with respect. D'Ar- 
 tagnan was loaded with thanks by the host of Le Grand 
 Monarque. He received them like a man who knows that 
 nothing is being offered that does not belong to him, and 
 then said till supper was ready he would go and walk upon 
 the port. Immediately each of the recruits, who under- 
 stood the summons, took his hat, brushed the dust off his 
 clothes, and followed D'Artagnan. But D'Artagnan, while 
 observing, examined everything, took care not to stop; he 
 directed his course toward the dune, and the ten men — sur- 
 prised at finding themselves going in the track of one an- 
 other, uneasy at seeing, on their right, on their left, and 
 behind them, companions upon whom they had not reck- 
 oned — followed him, casting furtive glances at one another. 
 It was not till he had arrived at the hollow part of the 
 deepest dune that D'Artagnan, smiling at seeing their shy- 
 ness, turned toward them, making a friendly sign with his 
 hand. 
 
 "Eh! come, come, messieurs," said he; "let us not de- 
 vour one another; you are made to live together, to under- 
 stand one another in all respects; and not one to devour 
 the other." 
 
 Instantly all hesitation ceased; the men breathed as if 
 they had been taken out of a coffin, and examined one 
 another complacently. After this examination they turned 
 their eyes toward their leader, who had long been ac- 
 quainted with the art of speaking to men of that class, and 
 improvised the following little speech, pronounced with an 
 energy truly Gascon: 
 
 "Messieurs, you all know who I am. I have engaged you 
 from knowing you are brave, and from being willing to 
 associate you with me in a glorious enterprise. Figure to 
 yourselves that in laboring for me you labor for the king. 
 I only warn you that if you allow anything of this supposi- 
 tion to appear, I shall be forced to crack your skulls imme- 
 diately, in the manner most convenient to me. You are 
 not ignorant, messieurs, that state secrets are like a mortal 
 poison; as long as that poison is in its box and the box 
 is closed, it is not injurious; out of the box, it kills. Now 
 draw near, and you shall know as much of this secret as I 
 am able to tell you." All drew close to kirn with an ex' 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOTOTE. 151 
 
 pression of curiosity. "Approach/' continued D'Artag- 
 nan, "and let not the bird which passes over our heads, the 
 rabbit which sports in the dunes, ^he fish which bounds 
 from the waters, heav us. Our business is to learn and to 
 report to Monsieur le Surintendant of the Finances to what 
 extent English smuggling is injurious to French merchants. 
 I will enter every place, and will see everything. We are poor 
 Picard fishermen, thrown upon the coast by a storm. It is 
 certain that we must sell fish, neither more nor less, like 
 true fishermen. Only people might guess who we are, and 
 might molest us; it is therefore necessary that we should be 
 in a condition to defend ourselves. And this is why I have 
 selected men of spirit and courage. We will lead a steady 
 life, and we shall not incur much danger, seeing that we 
 have behind us a powerful protector, thanks to whom no 
 embarrassment is possible. One thing alone puzzles me; 
 but I hope, after a short explanation, you will relieve me 
 from that ditficulty. The thing which puzzles me is taking 
 with me a crew of stupid fishermen, which crew will annoy 
 me immensely, while if, by chance, there are among you 
 any who have seen the sea " 
 
 "Oh! let not that trouble you," said one of the recruits; 
 "I was a prisoner among the pirates of Tunis three years, 
 and can maneuver a boat like an admiral." 
 
 "See," said D'Artagnan, "what an admirable thing 
 chance is!" D'Artagnan pronounced these words with an 
 indefinable tone of feigned bonhomie, for D'Artagnan knew 
 very well that the victim of pirates was an old corsair, and 
 he had engaged him in cpnsequence of that knowledge. 
 But D'Artagnan never said more than there was occasion 
 for saying, in order to leave people in doubt. He paid 
 himself with the explanation, and welcomed the effect, 
 without appearing to be preoccupied with the cause. 
 
 "And I," said a second, "I, by chance, had an uncle 
 who directed the works of the port of La Rochelle. When 
 quite a child, I played about the boats, and I know how to 
 handle an oar or a sail as well as the best Ponantais sailor." 
 
 The last did not lie much more than the first, for he had 
 rowed on board his majesty's galleys six years, at Ciotat. 
 Two others were more frank; they confessed honestly that 
 they had served on board a vessel as soldiers on punishment, 
 and did not blush at it. D'Artagnan found himself, then, 
 the leader of ten men-of-war and four sailors, having at 
 once a land army and a sea force, which would have carried 
 the pride of Plaochet to its height, if Planchet had knowa 
 the details. 
 
152 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE, 
 
 Nothing was now left but the general orders, and D'Ar- 
 tagnan gave them with precision. He enjoined his men to 
 be ready to set out for the Hague, some following the coast 
 which leads to Breskens, others the road to Antwerp. The 
 rendezvous was given by calculating each day's march at 
 fifteen days from that time, upon the chief place at the 
 Hague. D'Artagnan recommended his men to go in 
 couples, as they liked best, from sympathy. He himself 
 selected from among those with the least hanging look two 
 guards who he had formerly known, and whose only faults 
 were being drunkards and gamblers. These men had not 
 entirely lost all ideas of civilization, and under proper 
 habiliments their hearts would have renewed, their beatings. 
 D'Artagnan, not to create any jealousy to the others, made 
 the rest go forward. He kept his two selected ones, 
 clothed them from his own kit, and set out with them. It 
 was to these two, whom he seemed to honor with an abso- 
 lute confidence, that D'Artagnan imparted a false confi- 
 dence, destined to secure the success of the expedition. He 
 confessed to them that the object was not to learn to what 
 extent the French merchants were injured by English 
 smuggling, but to learn how far French smuggling con Id 
 annoy English trade. These men appeared convinced; 
 they were effectively so. D'Artagnan was quite sure that 
 at the first debauch, when thoroughly drunk, one of the 
 two would divulge the secret to the whole band. His plav 
 appeared infallible. 
 
 A fortnight after all we have said had taken place at 
 Calais, the whole troop assembled at the Hague. Then 
 D'Artagnan perceived that all his men, with remarkable 
 intelligence, had already travestied themselves into sailors, 
 more or less ill-treated by the sea. D'Artagnan left them 
 to sleep in a cabin in Newkerke street, while he lodged 
 comfortably upon the Grand Canal. He learned that the 
 King of England had come back to his old ally, William II. 
 of Nassau, stadtholder of Holland. He learned also that 
 the refusal of Louis XIV. had a little cooled the protection 
 afforded him up to that time, and in consequence he had 
 gone to reside in a little village house at Scheveningen, 
 situated in the dunes, on the seashore, about a league from 
 the Hague. There, it was said, the unfortunate banished 
 king consoled himself in his exile, by looking, with the 
 melancholy peculiar to the princes of his race, at that im- 
 mense North Sea which separated him from his England. 
 as it had formerly separated Mary Stuart from France. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 153 
 
 There, behind the trees of the beautiful wood of Scheven* 
 ingen, on the fine sand upon which gi'ows the golden broom 
 of the dune, Charles II. vegetated as it did, more unfor- 
 tunate than it, for he had life and thought, and he hoped 
 and despaired by turns. 
 
 D'Artagnan went once as far as Scheveningen, in order 
 to be certain that all was true that was said of the king. 
 He beheld Charles II., pensive and alone, coming out of a 
 little door opening into the wood, and walking on the beach 
 in the setting sun, without even attracting the attention of 
 the fishermen, who, on their return in the evening, drew, 
 like the ancient m iriners of the Archipelago, their barks up 
 upon the sand of the shore. D'Artagnan recognized tho 
 king; he saw him fix his melancholy look upon the im- 
 mense extent of the waters, and absorb upon his pale 
 countenance the red rays of the sun already sloped by the 
 black line of the horizon. Then Charles returned to his 
 isolated abode, still alone, still slow and sad, amusing him- 
 self with making the friable and moving sand creak beneath 
 his feet. That very evening D'Artagnan hired for a thou- 
 sand livres a fishing-boat worth four thousand. He paid a 
 thousand livres down, and deposited the three thousand 
 with a burgomaster, after which he embarked without their 
 being seen, and in a dark night, the ten men who formed 
 his land army; and with the rising tide, at three o'clock in 
 the morning, he got into the open sea, maneuvering ostensi- 
 bly with the four others, and depending upon the science 
 of his galley-slave as upon that of the first pilot of the port. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE AUTHOR, VERY UNWILLINGLY, IS FORCED 
 TO DO A LITTLE HISTORY. 
 
 While kings and men were thus occupied with England, 
 which governed itself quite alone, and which, it must be 
 said to its praise, had never been so badly governed, a man 
 upon whom God had fixed His eye aud placed His finger, 
 a man predestined to write his name in brilliant letters in 
 the book of history, was pursuing in the face of the world 
 a work full of mystery and audacity. He went on, and no 
 one knew whither he meant to go, although not only Eng- 
 land, but France, but Europe, watched him marching with 
 a firm step and a lofty head. All that was known of thia 
 
154 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGlLOffNE. 
 
 man we are about to tell. Monk had just declared for tht 
 liberty of the Rump Parliament, a parliament which Gen- 
 eral Lambert, imitating Cromwell, whose lieutenant he had 
 been, had just blocked up so closely, in order to bring.it to 
 his will, that no member, during all the blockade, was able 
 to go out, and only one, Peter Wentworth, had been able 
 to get in. Lambert and Monk — everything was resumed 
 under these two men; the first representing military despot- 
 ism, the second representing pure republicanism. These 
 men were the two sole political representatives of that revo- 
 lution in which Charles I. had at first lost his crown and 
 afterward his head. As regarded Lambert, he did not dis- 
 semble his views; he sought to establish a military govern- 
 ment, and to be himself the head of that government. 
 
 Monk, a rigid republican, some said, wished to maintain 
 the Rump Parliament, that visible representation, although 
 degenerated, of the republic. Monk, artful and ambitious, 
 said others, wished simply to make of this parliament, 
 which he affected to protect, a solid step by which to mount 
 the throne which Cromwell had made empty, but upon 
 which he had never dared to take his seat. Thus Lambert, 
 by persecuting the parliament, and Monk, by declaring for 
 it, had mutually proclaimed themselves enemies of each 
 other. Monk and Lambert, therefore, had at first thought 
 of creating an army each for himself; Monk in Scotland, 
 where were the Presbyterians and the royalists, that is to 
 say, the malcontents; Lambert in London, where was 
 found, as is always the case, the strongest opposition against 
 the power which it had beneath its eyes. Monk had paci- 
 fied Scotland; he had there formed for himself an army, 
 and found an aslyum. The one watched the other. Monk 
 knew that the day was not yet come, the day marked by 
 the Lord for a great change; his sword, therefore, appeared 
 glued to the sheath. Inexpugnable in his wild and moun- 
 tainous Scotland, an absolute general, king of an army of 
 eleven thousand old soldiers, whom he had more than once 
 led on to victory; as well informed, nay, even better, of 
 the affairs of London than Lambert, who held garrison in 
 the city — such was the position of Monk, when, at a hun- 
 dred leagues from London, he declared himself for the 
 parliament. Lambert, on the contrary, as we have said, 
 lived in the capital. That was the center of all his opera- 
 tions, and he there collected around him all his friends, 
 and all the lower class of the people, eternally inclined to 
 cherish the enemies of constituted power. It was then in 
 
THE TICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 155 
 
 London that Lambert learned the support that, from the 
 frontiers of Scotland, Monk lent to the parliament. He 
 judged there was no time to be lost, and that the Tweed 
 was not so far distant from the Thames that an army could 
 not march from one river to the other, particularly when it 
 was well commanded. He knew, besides, that as fast as 
 the soldiers of Monk penetrated into England they would 
 form on their route that ball of snow, the emblem of the 
 globe of fortune, which is for the ambitious nothing but a 
 step growing unceasingly higher to conduct him to his 
 object. He got together, then, his army, formidable at 
 the same time for its composition and its numbers, and 
 hastened to meet Monk, who, on his part, like a prudent 
 navigator sailing amid rocks, advanced by very short 
 marches, his nose to the wind, listening to the reports and 
 scenting the air which came from London. 
 
 The two armies came in sight of each other near New- 
 castle; Lambert, arriving first, encamped in the city itself. 
 Monk, -always circumspect, stopped where he was, and 
 placed his general quarters at Coldstream, on the Tweed. 
 The sight of Lambert spread joy through the army of 
 Monk, while, on the contrary, the sight of Monk threw 
 disorder into the army of Lambert. It might have been 
 believed that these intrepid warriors, who had made such 
 a noise in the streets of London, had set out with the hope 
 of meeting no one, and that now, seeing that they had met 
 an army, and that army hoisted before them not only a 
 standard, but still further, a cause and a principle — it 
 might have been believed, we say, that these intrepid 
 warriors had begun to reflect that they were less good re- 
 publicans than the soldiers of Monk, since the latter sup- 
 ported the parliament, while Lambert supported nothing, 
 not even himself. As to Monk, if he had had to reflect, or 
 if he did reflect, it must have been after a sad fashion, for 
 history relates — and that modest dame, it is well known> 
 never lies — for history relates that the day of his arrival at 
 Coldstream search was made in vain throughout the place 
 for a single sheep. 
 
 If Monk had commanded an English army, that was 
 enough to have brought about a general desertion. But it 
 is not with the Scotch as it is with the English, to whom 
 that fluid flesh which is called blood is a paramount neces- 
 sity. The Scotch, a poor and sober race, live upon a little 
 barley crushed between two stones, diluted with the water 
 of ihe fountain, and cooked upon another stone, heated* 
 
156 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 The Scotch, their distribution of barley being made, cared 
 very little whether there was or was not any meat in Cold- 
 stream. Monk, little accustomed to barley-cakes, was 
 hungry, and his staff, at least as hungry as himself, looked 
 with anxiety to the right and left to know what was being 
 got ready for supper. Monk ordered search to be made; 
 his scouts had, on arriving in the place, found it deserted 
 and the cupboards empty; upon butchers and bakers it was 
 of no use depending in Coldstream. The smallest morsel 
 of bread, then, could not be found for the general's table. 
 
 As accounts succeeded one another, all equally unsatis 
 factory, Monk, seeing terror and discouragement upon 
 every face, declared that he was not hungry; besides, they 
 should eat on the morrow, since Lambert was there, prob- 
 ably with the intention of giving battle, and, consequently, 
 to give up his provisions, if he were forced in Newcastle, or 
 to deliver the soldiers of Monk from hunger forever if he 
 were conquered. This consolation was not efficacious but 
 upon a very small number; but of what importance was it 
 to Monk, for Monk was very absolute, under the appear- 
 ance of the most perfect mildness? Every one, therefore, 
 was obliged to be satisfied, or, at least, to appear so. Monk, 
 quite as hungry as his people, but affecting perfect indiffer- 
 ence for the absent mutton, cut a fragment of tobacco, half 
 an inch long, from the carotte of a sergeant who formed 
 part of his suite, and began to masticate the said fragment, 
 assuring his lieutenants that hunger was a chimera, and 
 that, besides, people were never hungry when they had 
 anything to chew. This pleasantry satisfied some of those 
 who had resisted Monk's first deduction from the neighbor- 
 hood of Lambert's army; the number of thp. dissentients 
 diminished then greatly; the guard took their posts, the 
 patrols began, and the general continued his frugal repast 
 beneath his open tent. 
 
 Between his camp and that of the enemy stood an old 
 abbey, of which, at the present day, there only remain some 
 ruins, but which then was in existence, and was called New- 
 castle Abbey. It was built upon a vast site, independent 
 at once of the plain and of the river, because it was almost 
 a marsh fed by springs and kept up by rains. Neverthe- 
 less, in the midst of these strips of water, covered with long 
 grass, rushes, and reeds, were seen elevated solid spots of 
 ground, consecrated formerly to the kitchen-parden, the 
 park, the pleasure gardens, and other dependencies of the 
 abhey. lik« i»hr of (.hose great sfsi-KpuWs whyse hony i| 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONME. 157 
 
 ound while the claws go diverging round from this circum- 
 ference. The kitchen-garden, one of the longest claws of 
 the abbey, extended to the camp of Monk. Unfortunately 
 it was, as we have said, early in June, and the kitchen- 
 garden, being abandoned, offered no resources. Monk had 
 ordered this spot to be guarded, as most subject to sur- 
 prises. The fires of the enemy's general were plainly to be 
 perceived on the other side of the abbey. But between 
 these fires and the abbey extended the Tweed, unfolding its 
 luminous scales beneath the thick shade of tall green oaks. 
 Monk was perfectly well acquainted with this position, 
 Newcastle and its environs having already more than once 
 been his headquarters. He knew that by day his enemy 
 might, without doubt, throw a few eclaireurs into these 
 ruins and promote a skirmish, but that by night he would 
 take care to abstain from such a risk. He felt himself, 
 therefore, in security. Thus his soldiers saw him, after 
 what he boastingly called his supper — that is to say, after the 
 exercise of mastication reported by us at the commence- 
 _ment of this chapter — like Napoleon on the eve of Auster- 
 litz, sleeping seated in his rush chair, half beneath the light 
 of his lamp, half beneath the reflection of the moon, com- 
 mencing its ascent into the heavens, which denoted that it 
 was nearly half-past nine in the evening. All at once Monk 
 was roused from his half-sleep, factitious, perhaps, by a 
 troop of soldiers, who came with joyous cries, and kicked 
 the poles of his tent with a humming noise as if on purpose 
 ! to wake him. There was no need of so much noise; the 
 general opened his eyes quickly. 
 
 "Well, my children, what is going on now?" asked the 
 general. 
 
 "General," replied several voices at once, "general, you 
 shall have some supper." 
 
 "I have had my supper, gentlemen," replied he quietly, 
 "and was comfortably digesting it, as you see. But come 
 in, and tell me what brings you hither." 
 
 "Good news, general." 
 
 "Bah! Has Lambert sent us word that he will fight to- 
 morrow?" 
 
 "No; but we have just captured a fishing-boat conveying 
 fish to Newcastle." 
 
 "And you have done very wrong, my friends. These 
 gentlemen from London are delicate; they smack of their 
 first service; you will put them sadly out of humor this 
 evening, and to-morrow they will be pitiless. It would 
 
158 THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELOtfNE. 
 
 really be in good taste to send back to Lambert both un 
 fish and his fishermen, unless" — and the general reflected an 
 instant. 
 
 "Tell me," continued he, "what are these fishermen, if 
 you please?" 
 
 "Some Picard seamen who were fishing on the coast oi 
 France or Holland, and who have been thrown upon ours 
 by a gale of wind." 
 
 "Do any among them speak our language?" 
 
 "The leader spoke some few words of English." 
 
 The mistrust of the general was awakened in proportion 
 as fresh information reached him. "That is well," said he. 
 "I wish to see these men; bring them to me." 
 
 An officer immediately went to fetch them. 
 
 "How many are there of them?" continued Monk; "and 
 what is their vessel?" 
 
 "There are ten or twelve of them, general, and they were 
 aboard of a kind of chasse-maree, as it is called — Dutch- 
 built, apparently." 
 
 "And you say they were carrying fish to Lambert's 
 camp?" 
 
 "Yes, general; and they seem to have had good luck in 
 their fishing." 
 
 "Humph! We shall see that," said Monk. 
 
 At this moment the officer returned, bringing the leader 
 of the fishermen with him. He was a man from fifty to 
 fifty-five years old, but good-looking for his age. He was 
 of middle height, and wore a justau-corps of coarse wool; a 
 cap pulled down over his eyes; a cutlass hung from his belt, 
 and he walked with the hesitation peculiar to sailors, who, 
 never knowing, thanks to the movement of the vessel, 
 whether their foot will be placed upon the plank or upon 
 nothing, give to every one of their steps a fall as firm as if 
 they were driving a pile. Monk, with an acute and pene- 
 trating look, examined the fisherman for some time, while 
 the latter smiled, with that smile, half-cunning, half-silly, 
 peculiar to French peasants. 
 
 "Do you speak English?" asked Monk, in excellent 
 French. 
 
 "Ah! but badly, my lord," replied the fisherman. 
 
 This reply was made much more with the lively and 
 sharp accentuation of the people beyond the Loire, than 
 with the slightly drawling accent of the countries on the 
 west and north of France- 
 
 "But you do speak it?" persisted Monk, in order to ex- 
 amine his accent once more 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 159 
 
 "Eh! we men of the sea," replied the fisherman, '"speak 
 a little of all languages. " 
 
 "Then you are a sea fisherman?" 
 
 "I am at present, my lord — a fisherman, and a famous 
 fisherman, too. I have taken a barbel that weighs at least 
 thirty pounds, and more than fifty mullets; I have also 
 some little whitings that will fry beautifully." 
 
 "You appear to me to have fished more frequently in the 
 Gulf of Gascony than in the Channel," said Monk smiling. 
 
 "Well, I am from the south; but does that prevent me 
 from being a good fisherman, my lord?" 
 
 "Oh! not at all; I will buy your fish. And now speak 
 frankly, for whom did you destine them?" 
 
 "My lord, I will conceal nothing from you. I was going 
 to Newcastle, following the coast, when a party of horse- 
 men who were passing along in an opposite direction made 
 a sign to my bark to turn back to your honor's camp, 
 under penalty of a discharge of musketry. As I was not 
 armed for fighting," added the fisherman smiling, "I was 
 forced to submit." 
 
 "And why did you go to Lambert's camp in preference 
 to mine?" 
 
 "My lord, I will be frank; will your lordship permit me?" 
 
 "Yes, and even if there be occasion, shall command you 
 to be so.' ; 
 
 "Well, my lord, I was going to Monsieur Lambert's camp 
 because those gentlemen from the city pay well — while your 
 Scotchmen, Puritans, Presbyterians, Covenanters, or what- 
 ever you choose to call them, eat but little, and pay for 
 nothing." 
 
 Monk shrugged his shoulders, without, however, being 
 able to refrain from smiling at the same time. "How is it 
 chat, being from the south, you come to fish on our coast?" 
 
 "Because I have been fool enough to marry in Picardy." 
 
 "Yes; but even Picardy is not England." 
 
 "My lord, man shoves his boat into the sea, but God and 
 the wind do the rest, and drive the boat where they please." 
 
 "You had, then, no intention of landing on our coast?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "And what route were you steering?" 
 
 "We were returning from Ostend, where some mackerel 
 have been seen already, when a sharp wind from the south 
 drove us from our course; then, seeing that it was useless 
 to struggle against it, we let it drive us. It then became 
 accessary, not to loss our fish, which were good, to go and 
 
160 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 sell them at the nearest English port, and that was New* 
 castle. We were told the opportunity was good, as there 
 was an increase of population in the camp, an increase of 
 population in the city; both, we were told, were full of gen- 
 tlemen, very rich and very hungry. So we steered our 
 course toward Newcastle." 
 
 "And your companions, where are they?" 
 
 "Oh! my companions have remained on board; they are 
 'sailors without the least instruction." 
 
 "While you—" said Monk. 
 
 "Who, I?" said the patron, laughing; "I have sailed 
 about with my father, and I know what is called a sou, a 
 crown, a pistole, a louis, and a double-louis, in all th& 
 languages of Europe; my crew, therefore, listen to me as 
 they would to an oracle and obey me as if I were an 
 admiral." 
 
 "Then it was you who preferred Monsieur Lambert as 
 the best customer?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly. And, to be frank, my lord, was I 
 wrong?" 
 
 "You will see that by and by." 
 
 "At all events, my lord, if there is a fault, the fault is 
 mine; and my comrades should not be dealt hardly with on 
 that account." 
 
 "This is decidedly an intelligent, sharp fellow," thought 
 Monk. Then, after a few minutes* silence employed in 
 scrutinizing the fisherman: "You come from Ostend, did 
 you not say?" asked the general. 
 
 "Yes, my lord, straight as a line." 
 
 "You have, then, heard speak of the affairs of the day: 
 for I have no doubt that both in France and Holland thsj 
 excite interest. What is he doing who calls himself Kinc 
 of England?" 
 
 "Oh, my lord!" cried the fisherman, with loud and ex- 
 pansive frankness, "that is a lucky question, and you could 
 not put it to anybody better than to me, for in truth I can 
 make you a famous reply,, , Imagine, my lord, that when 
 putting into Ostend to sell the few mackerel we had caught, 
 I saw the ex-king walking on the dunes, waiting for his 
 horces which were to take him to the Hague. He is a 
 rather tali, pale man, with black hair, and somewhat hard- 
 featured. He looks ill, and I don't think the air of Holland 
 agrees with him." 
 
 Monk followed with the greatest attention the rapid, 
 heightened, and diffusive conversation of the fisherman* ia 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 161 
 
 a language which was not his own, but which, as we have 
 said, he spoke with great facility. The fisherman, on his 
 part, employed sometimes a French word, sometimes an 
 English word, and sometimes a word which appeared not to 
 belong to any language, but was, in truth, pure Gascon. 
 Fortunately, his eyes spoke for him, and that so eloquently 
 that it was possible to lose a word from his mouth, but not 
 a single intention from his eyes. The general appeared 
 more and more satisfied with his examination. 
 
 "You must have heard that this ex-king, as you call him, 
 was going to the Hague for some purpose?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the fisherman, "I heard that." 
 
 "And what was his purpose?" 
 
 "Always the same," said the fisherman. "Must he not 
 always entertain the fixed idea of returning to England?" 
 
 "That is true," said Monk pensively. 
 
 "Without reckoning," added the fisherman, "that the 
 stadtholder — you know, my lord, William II. " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "He will assist him with all his power." 
 
 "Ah! did you hear that said?" 
 
 "No, but I think so." 
 
 "You are quite a politician, apparently," said Monk. 
 
 "Why, we sailors, my lord, who are accustomed to study 
 the water and the air — that is to say, the two most mobile 
 things in the world — are seldom deceived as to the rest." 
 
 "Now, then," said Monk, changing the conversation, "I 
 am told you are going to provision us." 
 
 "I will do my best, my lord." 
 
 "How much do you ask for your fish, in the first place 9 " 
 
 "Not such a fool as to name a price, my lord." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because my fish is yours." 
 
 "By what right?" 
 
 "By that of the strongest." 
 
 "But my intention is to pay you for it." 
 
 "That is very generous of you, my lord." 
 
 "Is it worth " 
 
 "My lord, I fix no price." 
 
 "What do you ask, then?" 
 
 "I only ask to be permitted to go away." 
 
 "Where? — to General Lambert's camp?" 
 
 "I!" cried the fisherman; "what should I go to New- 
 castle for, now I have no longer any fish?" 
 
 "At all events, listen to me." 
 
162 THE VTCOMTE DE BRAfiELONNE. 
 
 "I do, my lord." 
 
 "I will give you counsel." 
 
 "How, my lord? — pay me and give me good counsel like- 
 wise? You overwhelm me, my lord." 
 
 Monk looked more earnestly than ever at the fisherman, 
 of whom he still appeared to entertain some suspicion. 
 
 "Yes, I will pay you, and give you a piece of advice; for 
 the two things are connected. If you return, then, to 
 General Lambert " 
 
 The fisherman made a movement of his head and shoul- 
 ders, which signified, "If he persist in it, I won't contradict 
 him." 
 
 "Do not cross the marsh," continued Monk; "you will 
 have money in your pocket, and there are in the marsh some 
 Scotch ambuscaders I have placed there. Those people are 
 very intractable; they understand but very little of the 
 language which you speak, although it appears to me to be 
 composed of three languages. They might take from you 
 what I had given you, and on your return to your country 
 you would. not fail to say that General Monk has two hands, 
 the one Scotch, and the other English; and that he takes 
 back with the Scotch hand what he had given with the 
 English hand." 
 
 "Oh, general, I will go where you like, be sure of that," 
 said the fisherman, with a fear too expressive not to be ex- 
 aggerated. "I only wish to remain here, if you will allow 
 me to remain." 
 
 "I readily believe you," said Monk, with an impercepti- 
 ble smile, "but I cannot, nevertheless, keep you in my 
 tent." 
 
 "I have no such wish, my lord, and desire only that your 
 lordship should point out where you will have me posted. 
 Do not trouble yourself about us — with us a night soon 
 passes away." 
 
 "You shall be conducted to your bark." 
 
 "As your lordship pleases. Only, if your lordship would 
 allow me to be taken back by a carpenter, I should be ex- 
 treme! v grateful." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Because the gentlemen of your army, in dragging my 
 boat up the river with a cable pulled by their horses, have 
 battered it a little upon the rocks of the shore, so that I 
 have as least two feet of water in my hold, my lord.'-" 
 
 "The greater reason why you should watch )'our bout, I 
 think." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 103 
 
 "My lord, I am quite at your orders," said the fisher- 
 man. "I will empty my baskets where you wish; then you 
 will pay me, if you please to do so; and you will send me 
 away, if it appears right to you. You see, I am very easily 
 managed and pleased, my lord." 
 
 "Come, come, you are a very good sort of a fellow," said 
 Monk, whose scrutinizing glance had not been able to find 
 a single shade in the limpid eye of the fisherman. "Halloo, 
 Digby!" An aid-de-camp appeared. "You will conduct 
 this good fellow and his companions to the little tents of 
 the canteens, in front of the marshes, so that they will be 
 near their bark, and yet will not sleep on board to-night. 
 "What is the matter, Spithead?" 
 
 Spithead was the sergeant from whom Monk had bor- 
 rowed a piece of tobacco for his supper. Spithead, having 
 entered the general's tent without being sent for, had 
 drawn this question from Monk. 
 
 "My lord," said he, "a French gentleman has just pre- 
 sented himself at the outposts, and asks to speak to your 
 honor." 
 
 All this was said, be it understood, in English; but, not- 
 withstanding, it produced a slight emotion on the fisher- 
 man, which Monk, occupied with his sergeant, did not 
 remark. 
 
 "Who is the gentleman?" asked Monk. 
 
 "My lord," replied Spithead, "he told it me; but those 
 devils of French names are so difficult to be pronounced by 
 a Scotch throat, that I could not retain it. I believe, how- 
 ever, from what the guards say, that it is the same gentle- 
 man who presented himself yesterday at the halt, and whom 
 your honor would not receive." 
 
 "That is true; I was holding a council of officers." 
 
 "Will your honor give any orders respecting this gentle- 
 man?" 
 
 "Yes; let him be brought here." 
 
 "Must we take any precautions?" 
 
 "Such as what?" 
 
 "Binding his eyes, for instance?" 
 
 "To what purpose? He can only see what I desire 
 should be seen; that is to say, that I have around me eleven 
 thousand brave men, who ask no better than to have their 
 throats cut in honor of the Parliament of Scotland and 
 England." 
 
 "And this man, my lord?" said Spithead, pointing to 
 the fisherman, who, during; this conversation, had remained 
 
164 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 standing and motionless, like a man who sees but does not 
 understand. 
 
 "Ah, that is true," said Monk. Then turning toward 
 the fisherman; "I shall see you again, my brave fellow," 
 said he; "I have chosen you a lodging. Digby, take him 
 to it. Fear nothing; your money shall be sent to you 
 presently." 
 
 "Thank you, my lord," said the fisherman; and after 
 having bowed, he left the tent, accompanied by Digby. 
 Before he had gone a hundred paces he found his compan- 
 ions, who were whispering with a volubility which did not 
 appear exempt from inquietude; but he made them a sign 
 which seemed to reassure them. "Hola! you fellows!" said 
 the patron, "come this way. His lordship, General Monk, 
 has the generosity to pay us for our fish, and the goodness 
 to give us hospitality for to-night." 
 
 The fishermen gathered round their leader, and, con- 
 ducted by Digby, the little troop proceeded toward the 
 canteen, the post, as may be remembered, which had been 
 assigned them. As they went along in the dark, the fisher- 
 men passed close to the guards who were conducting the 
 French gentleman to General Monk. This gentleman was 
 on horseback and enveloped in a large cloak, wlrch pre- 
 vented the patron from seeing him, however great his curios- 
 ity might be. As to the gentleman, ignorant that he was 
 elbowing compatriots, he did not pay any attention to the 
 little troop. 
 
 The aid-de-camp installed his guests in a tolerably com- 
 fortable tent, from which was dislodged an Irish canteen 
 woman, who went, with her six children, to sleep where she 
 could. A large fire was burning in front of this tent, and 
 threw its purple light over the grassy pools of the marsh, 
 rippled by a fresh breeze. The installation made, the aid- 
 de-camp wished the fishermen good-night, calling to their 
 notice that they might see from the door of the tent the 
 masts of their bark, which was tossing gently on the Tweed, 
 a proof that it had not yet sunk. The sight of this ap- 
 peared to delight the leader of the fishermen infinitely. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOiNHSTE. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE . TREASURE. 
 
 The French gentleman whom Spithead had announced 
 to Monk, and who had passed, so closely wrapped in his 
 cloak, by the fisherman who left the general's tent five 
 minutes before he entered it — the French gentleman passed 
 through the various posts without even casting his eyes 
 around him, for fear of appearing indiscreet. As the order 
 had been given, he was conducted to the tent of the gen- 
 eral. The gentleman was left alone in the sort of ante- 
 chamber in front of the principal body of the tent, where 
 he awaited Monk, who only delayed till he had heard the 
 report of his people, and observed through the opening of 
 the canvas the countenance of the person who solicited an 
 audience. Without doubt, the report of those who had 
 accompanied the French gentleman established the discre- 
 tion with which he was conducted; for the first impression 
 the stranger received of the welcome made him by the gen- 
 eral was more favorable than he could have expected at such 
 a moment, and on the part of so suspicious a man. Never- 
 theless, according to his custom, when Monk found himself 
 in the presence of a stranger, he fixed upon him his pene- 
 trating eyes, which scrutiny the stranger, on his part, sus- 
 tained without embarrassment or notice. At the end of a 
 few seconds, the general made a gesture with his hand and 
 head in sign of attention. 
 
 "My lord," said the gentleman, in excellent English, "I 
 have requested an interview with your honor, for an affair 
 of importance." 
 
 "Monsieur," replied Monk, in French, "you speak our 
 language well for a son of the Continent. I ask your par- 
 don — for doubtless the question is indiscreet — do you speak 
 French with the same purity?" 
 
 "There is nothing surprising, my lord, in my speaking 
 English tolerably; I resided for some time in England in 
 my youth, and since that I have made two voyages to this 
 country." These words were spoken in French, and with 
 a purity of accent that bespoke not only a Frenchman, but 
 a Frenchman from the environs of Tours. 
 
 "And what part of England have you resided in, mon- 
 sieur?" 
 
 "In my youth;, London, my lord; then, about 1635, I 
 
166 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONISTE. 
 
 made a pleasure trip to Scotland; and lastly, in 1648, I 
 lived for some time at Newcastle, particularly in the con- 
 vent, the gardens of which are now occupied by your army." 
 
 "Excuse me, monsieur; but you must comprehend that 
 these questions are necessary on my part, do you not!-'" 
 
 "It would astonish me, my lord, if they were not made.'' 
 
 "Now, then, monsieur, what can I do to serve you? 
 What do you wish?" 
 
 "This, my lord — but, in the first place, are we alone?" 
 
 "Perfectly so, monsieur, except, of course, the post 
 which guards us." So saying, Monk pulled open the can- 
 vas with his hand, and pointed to the soldier placed at ten 
 paces at most from the tent, and who, at the first call, could 
 have rendered assistance in a second. 
 
 "In that case, my lord," said the gentleman, in as calm a 
 tone as if he had been for a length of time in habits of in- 
 timacy with his interlocutor, "I have made up my mind to 
 address myself to you, because I believe you to be an honest 
 man. Indeed, the communication I am about to make to 
 you will prove to you the esteem in which I hold you." 
 
 Monk, astonished at this language, which established be- 
 tween him and the French gentleman equality at least, 
 raised his piercing eye to the stranger's face, and with a 
 sensible irony conveyed by the inflection of his voice alone, 
 for not a muscle of his face moved — "I thank you, mon- 
 sieur," said he; "but, in the first place, whom have I the 
 honor of speaking to?" 
 
 "I sent you my name by your sergeant, my lord." 
 
 "Excuse him, monsieur, he is a Scotchman, he could not 
 retain it." 
 
 "I am called the Comte de la Fere, monsieur," said 
 Athos, bowing. 
 
 "The Comte de la Fere?" said Monk, endeavoring to 
 recollect the name. "Pardon me, monsieur, but this ap- 
 pears to be the first time I have ever heard that name. Do 
 you fill any post at the court of France?" 
 
 "None; I am a simple gentleman." 
 
 "What dignity?" 
 
 "King Charles I. made me a Knight of the Garter, and 
 Queen Anne of Austria has given me the cordon of the 
 Holy Ghost. These are my only dignities." 
 
 "The Garter! the Holy Ghost! Are you a knight of 
 those two orders, monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And on what occasions have such favors been bestowed 
 upon you?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 16? 
 
 "For services rendered to their majesties." 
 
 Monk looked with, astonishment at this man, who ap- 
 peared to him so simple and so .great at the same time. 
 Then, as if he had renounced endeavoring to penetrate 
 this mystery of a simplicity and grandeur upon which the 
 stranger did not seem disposed to give him any other infor- 
 mation than that which he had already received, "Did you 
 present yourself yesterday at our advanced posts?" 
 
 "And was sent back? Yes, my lord." 
 
 "Many officers, monsieur, would not permit anybody to 
 enter their camp, particularly on the eve of a probable bat- 
 tle. But I differ from my colleagues, and like to leave 
 nothing behind me. Every advice is good tome; all danger 
 is sent to me by God, and I weigh it in my hand with the 
 energy He has given me. So, yesterday, you were only sent 
 back on account of the council I was holding. To-day I 
 am at liberty — speak." 
 
 "My lord, you have done so much the better in receiving 
 me, from that which I have to say having nothing to do 
 with the battle you are about to fight with General Lam- 
 bert, or with your camp; and the proof is, that I turned 
 away my head that I might not see your men, and closed 
 my eyes that I might not count your tents. No, I come to 
 speak to you, my lord, on my own account." 
 
 "Speak then,. monsieur," said Monk. 
 
 "Just now," continued Athos, "I had the honor of tell- 
 ing your lordship that I for a long time lived in Newcastle; 
 it was in the time of Charles I., when the king was given 
 up to Cromwell by the Scots." 
 
 "I know," said Monk coldly. 
 
 "I had at that time a large sum in gold, and on the eve 
 of the battle, from a presentiment, perhaps, of the turn 
 which things would take on the morrow, I concealed it in 
 the principal vault of the convent at Newcastle, in the 
 tower of which you may see from hence the summit silvered 
 by the moon. My treasure has then remained interred 
 there, and I am come to entreat your honor to permit me 
 to withdraw it before, perhaps, the battle turning that way, 
 a mine or some other war engine may destroy the building 
 and scatter my gold, or render it so apparent that the 
 soldiers will take possession of it." 
 
 Monk was well acquainted with mankind; he saw in the 
 physiognomy of this gentleman all the energy, all the 
 reason, all the circumspection possible; he could therefore 
 only attribute to a magnanimous confidence the revelation 
 
168 THE VICOMTE DE ERAGELONNE. 
 
 the Frenchman had made him, and he showed himself pro- 
 foundly touched by it. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "you have augured justly by me. 
 But is the sum worth the trouble to which you expose your- 
 self? Do you even believe that it can be in the place where 
 you left it?" 
 
 "It is there, monsieur, I do not doubt." 
 
 "That is a reply to one question; but to the other. I 
 dsked you if the sum were so large as to lead you to expose 
 yourself thus." 
 
 "It is really large; yes, my lord, for it is a million I in- 
 closed in two barrels." 
 
 "A million!" cried Monk, whom this time, in his turn, 
 Athos looked at earnestly and long. Monk perceived this, 
 and his mistrust returned. 
 
 "Here is a man," said he, "who is laying a snare for me. 
 So you wish to withdraw this money, monsieur," replied 
 he, "as I understand?" 
 
 "If you please, my lord." 
 
 "To-day?" 
 
 "This very evening, and that on account of the circum- 
 stances I have named." 
 
 "But, monsieur," objected Monk, "General Lambert is 
 as near the abbey where you have to act as I am. Why, 
 then, have you not addressed yourself to him?" 
 
 "Because, my lord, when one acts in important matters, 
 it is best to consult one's instinct before everything. Well, 
 General Lambert does not inspire me with so much confi- 
 dence as you do." 
 
 "Be it so, monsieur. I will assist you in recovering your 
 money, if, however, it can still be there; for that is far 
 from likely. Since 1648 twelve years have rolled away, 
 and many events have taken place." Monk dwelt upon 
 this point, to see if the French gentleman would seize the 
 evasions that were open to him, but Athos did not lift his 
 brow once. 
 
 "I assure you, my lord," he said firmly, "that my con- 
 viction is, that the two barrels have neither changed place 
 nor master." This reply had removed one suspicion from 
 the mind of Monk, but it had suggested another. Without 
 doubt this Frenchman was some emissary sent to entice into 
 error the protector of the parliament; the gold was nothing 
 but a lure; and by the help of this lure they thought to 
 excite the cupidity of the general. This gold might not 
 exist. It was Monk's business, then, to seize in the act of 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONHE. 1G9 
 
 falsehood and trick, the French gentleman, and to draw 
 from the false step itself in which his enemies wished to 
 entrap him a triumph for his renown. AVhen Monk was 
 determined how to act — 
 
 "Monsieur," said he to Athos, "without doubt you will 
 do me the houor to share my supper this evening?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord," replied Athos, bowing; "for you do me 
 an honor of which I feel myself worthy, by the inclination 
 which drew me toward you." 
 
 It is so much the more gracious on your part to accept 
 my invitation which such frankness, from my cooks being 
 but few and inexpert, and from my providers having re- 
 turned this evening empty-handed; so that if it had not 
 been for a fisherman of your nation who strayed into our 
 camp, General Monk would have gone to bed without his 
 supper to-day. I have then some fresh fish to offer you, as 
 the vender assures me." 
 
 "My lord, it is principally for the sake of having the 
 honor to pass an hour more with you." 
 
 After this exchange of civilities, during which Monk had 
 lost nothing of his circumspection, the supper, or that 
 which was to serve for one, had been laid upon a deal table. 
 Monk made a sign to the Comte de la Fere to be seated at 
 this table, and took his place opposite to him. A single 
 dish filled with boiled fish, set before the two illustrious 
 guests, promised more to hungry stomachs than to delicate 
 palates. While supping, that is, while eating the fish, 
 washed down with bad ale, Monk got Athos to recount to 
 him the last events of the Fronde, the reconciliation of M. 
 de Conde Avith the king, and the probable marriage of the 
 king with the infanta of Spain; thus he avoided, as Athos 
 himself avoided it, all allusion to the political interests 
 which united, or rather which disunited at this time, Eng- 
 land, France, and Holland. Monk, in this conversation, 
 convinced himself of one thing, which he must have re- 
 marked at the first words exchanged: that was, that he had 
 to do with a man of high distinction. He could not be an 
 assassin, and it was repugnant to Monk to believe him to 
 be a spy; but there were sufficient finesse, and at the same 
 time firmness, in Athos to lead Monk to fancy he was a con- 
 spirator. When they had quitted table, "You still believe 
 in your treasure, then, monsieur?" asked Monk. 
 
 "Yes, my lord." 
 
 "Seriously?" 
 
 "Quite seriously." 
 
170 THE VIPOMTE DE BFAGELONKE. 
 
 "And you think you can find the place again where it 
 was buried?" 
 
 "At the first inspection." 
 
 "Well, monsieur, from curiosity I will accompany you. 
 And it is so much the more necessary that I should accom- 
 pany you,' that you would rind great difficulties in passing 
 through the camp without me or one of my lieutenants.^' 
 
 "General, I would not suffer you to inconvenience your- 
 self if I did not, in fact, stand in need of your company; 
 but, as I recognize that this company is not only honorable, 
 but necessary, I accept it." 
 
 "Do you desire we should take any people with us?" 
 asked Monk. 
 
 "General, I believe that would be useless, if you yourself 
 do not see the necessity for it. Two men and a horse will 
 suffice to transport the two casks onboard the felucca which 
 brought me hither." 
 
 "But it will be necessary to pick, dig, and remove the 
 earth, and split stones; you don't reckon upon doing this 
 work yourself, monsieur, do you?" 
 
 "General, there is no picking or digging required. The 
 treasure is buried in the sepulchral vault of the convent, 
 under a stone in which is fixed a large iron ring, and under 
 that a little stair of four steps opens. The two casks are 
 there, placed end to end, covered with a coat of plaster in 
 the form of a bier. There is besides an inscription, which 
 will enable me to recognize the stone; and as I am not will- 
 ing, in an affair of delicacy and confidence, to keep the 
 secret from your honor, here is the inscription: 'Hie jacet 
 venerabilis, Petrus Gulielmus Scott, Canon Honorab. Con* 
 ventiis Novi Castelli. Obiit quarta et decima Feb. ana- 
 Dom. mccviii. Requiescat in pace.' " 
 
 Monk did not lose a single word. He was astonished 
 either at the marvelous duplicity of this man, and the 
 superior style in which he played his part, or at the good 
 loyal faith with which he presented his request, in a situa- 
 tion in which was concerned a million of money, risked 
 against the stab of a poniard, amid an army that would 
 have considered the theft as a restitution. "That is well." 
 said he; "I will accompany you; and the adventure appeals 
 to me so wonderful, that I will carry the flambeau myself." 
 And saying these words, he girded on a short sword, placed a 
 pistol in his belt, disclosing in this movement, which opened 
 his pourpoint a little, the fine rings of a coat of mail, 
 destined to screen him from the first poniard stroke of an 
 
* THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 171 
 
 assassin. After which he took a Scotch dirk in his left 
 hand, and then turning to Athos, "Are you ready, mon- 
 sieur?" said he. 
 
 "lam." 
 
 Athos, as if in opposition to what Monk had done, un- 
 fastened his poniard, which he placed upon the table; un- 
 hooked his sword-belt, which he laid close to his poniard; 
 and without affectation opening his pourpoint, as if to seek 
 nis handkerchief, showed beneath his fine cambric shirt his 
 naked breast, without arms, either offensive or defensive. 
 
 "This is truly a singular man," said Monk; "he is with- 
 out any arms; he has an ambuscade placed somewhere 
 yonder." 
 
 "General," said he, as if he had divined Monk's thought, 
 "you wish we should be alone; that is very right; but a 
 great captain ought never to expose himself with temerity. 
 It is night, the passage of the marsh may present dangers; 
 be accompanied." 
 
 "You are right," replied he, calling Digby. The aid-de- 
 camp appeared. "Fifty men, with swords and muskets," 
 said he, looking at- Athos. 
 
 "That is too few if there is danger, too many if there is 
 not." 
 
 "I will go alone," said Monk; "I want nobody. Come 
 monsieur." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE MARCH. 
 
 Athos and Monk traversed, in going from the camp 
 toward the Tweed, that part of the ground which Digby 
 had traversed with the fishermen coming from Tweed to 
 the camp. The aspect of this place, the aspect of the 
 changes man had wrought in it, was of a nature to produce 
 a great effect upon a lively and delicate imagination like 
 that of Athos. Athos looked at nothing but these desolate 
 spots; Monk looked at^iothing but Athos — at Athos, who, 
 with his eyes sometimes directed toward heaven, and some- 
 times toward the earth, sought, thought, and sighed. 
 Digby*'' whom the last orders of the general, and particularly 
 the accent with which he had given them, had at first a 
 little excited, Digby followed the night-walkers about 
 twenty paces, but the general having turned round as il as* 
 
172 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 tonished to find his orders had not been obeyed, the aid-de- 
 camp perceived his indiscretion, and returned to his tent. 
 He supposed that the general wished to make, incognito, 
 one of those reviews of vigilance which every experienced 
 captain never fails to make on the eve of a decisive engage- 
 ment; he explained to himself the presence of Athos in this 
 case as an inferior explains all that is mysterious on the 
 part of his leader. Athos might be, and, indeed, in the 
 eyes of Digby, must be, a spy, whose information was to 
 enlighten the general. 
 
 At the end of a walk of about ten minutes among the 
 tents and posts, which were closer together near the head- 
 quarters, Monk entered upon a little causeway which 
 diverged into three branches. That on the left led to the 
 river, that in the middle to Newcastle Abbey on the marsh, 
 that on the right crossed the first lines of Monk's camp; that 
 is to say, the lines nearest to Lambert's army. Beyond the 
 river was an advanced post, belonging to Monk's army, 
 which watched the enemy; it was composed of one hundred 
 and fifty Scots. They had swum across the Tweed, and, in 
 case of attack, were to recross it in the same manner, giv- 
 ing the alarm; but as there was no post at that spot, and as 
 Lambert's soldiers were not so prompt at taking to the 
 water as Monk's were, the latter appeared not to have much 
 uneasiness on that side. On this side of the river, at about 
 five hundred paces from the old abbey, the fishermen had 
 taken up their abode amid a crowd of small tents raised by 
 the sohiiers of the neighboring clans, who had with them 
 their wives and children. All this confusion, seen by the 
 moon's light, presented a striking coup d'ceil; the half 
 shade enlarged every detail, and the light, that flatterer 
 which only attaches itself to the polished side of things, 
 courted upon each rusty musket the point still left intact, 
 and upon every rag of canvas the whitest and least sullied 
 part. Monk arrived then with Athos, crossing this spot, 
 illumined with a double light, the silver splendor of the 
 moon, and the red blaze of the fires at the meeting of the 
 three causeways; there he stopped, and addressing his com- 
 panion: "Monsieur," said he, "do you know your road?" 
 
 "General, if 1 am not mistaken, the middle causeway 
 leads straight to the abbey." 
 
 "That is right; but we shall want lights to guide us in 
 the vaults." Monk turned round. 
 
 "Ah! I thought Digby was following us!" said he. ''So 
 much the better; he will procure us what we want." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 173 
 
 "Yes, general, that is a man yonder who has for some 
 time been walking behind us." 
 
 "Digby!" cried Monk. "Digby! come here, if you 
 ;, please." 
 
 But, instead of obeying, the shadow made a motion of 
 ] surprise, and, retreating instead of advancing, it bent down 
 and disappeared along the jetty on the left, directing its 
 course toward the lodging of the fishermen. 
 "It appears not to be Digby," said Monk. 
 Both had followed the shadow which had vanished. But 
 it was not so rare a thing for a man to be wandering about 
 ;at eleven o'clock at night, in a camp in which are reposing 
 t ten or eleven thousand men, as to give Monk and Athos 
 ; any alarm at his disappearance. 
 
 "As it is so," said Monk, "and we must have a light, a 
 lantern, a torch, or something by which we may see where 
 to set our feet, let us seek this light." 
 
 "General, the first soldier 'we meet will light us." 
 "No," said Monk, in order to discover if there were not 
 any connivance between the Comte de la Fere and the 
 fishermen. "No, I should prefer one of these French 
 soldiers who came this evening to sell me their fish. They 
 will leave to-morrow, and the secret will be better kept by 
 them; whereas if a report should be spread in the Scotch 
 . army that treasures are to be found in the abbey of New- 
 castle, my Highlanders will believe there is a million con- 
 | cealed beneath every slab and they will not leave a stone 
 upon a stone in the building." 
 
 "Do as you think best, general," replied Athos, in so 
 i natural a tone of voice as made it evident that soldier or 
 ! fisherman was the same to him, and that he had no prefer- 
 i ence. 
 
 Monk approached the causeway behind which had disap- 
 peared the person he had taken for Digby, and met r, patrol 
 who, making the tour of the tents, was going toward head- 
 quarters; he was stopped with his companion, gave the 
 password, and went on. A soldier, roused by the noise, 
 unrolled his plaid, and looked up to see what was going 
 forward. "Ask him," said Monk to Athos, "where the 
 fishermen are; if I were to speak to him, he would know 
 me." 
 
 Athos went up to the soldier, who pointed out the tent 
 to him; immediately Monk and Athos turned toward it. It 
 appeared to the general that at the moment they came up, 
 a shadow, like to that they had already seen, glided into 
 
174 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 
 
 this tent; but, on drawing nearer, he perceived he must 
 have been mistaken, for all of them were asleep pele mele, 
 and nothing was seen but arms and legs joined, crossed, 
 and mixed. Athos, fearing he should be suspected of con- 
 nivance with some of his compatriots, remained outside the 
 tent. 
 
 "Hola!" said Monk, in French, "wake up here." Two 
 or three of the sleepers got up. "I want a man to light 
 me," continued Monk. 
 
 "Your honor may depend upon us," said a voice which 
 made Athos start. "Where do you wish us to go?" 
 
 "You shall see. Alight! come quickly!" 
 
 "Yes, your honor. Does it please your honor that I 
 should accompany you?" 
 
 "You or another, it is of very little consequence, pro- 
 vided I have a light." 
 
 "It is strange!" thought Athos; "what a singular voice 
 that man has!" 
 
 "Some fire, you sirs!" cried the fisherman; "come, make 
 haste!" 
 
 Then addressing in a low voice his companion nearest 
 him: "Get a light, Menneville," said he, "and hold your- 
 self ready for anything." 
 
 One of the fishermen struck light from a stone, set fire 
 to some tinder, and by the aid of a match lighted a lantern. 
 The light immediately spread all over the tent. 
 
 "Are you ready, monsieur?" said Monk to Athos, who 
 had turned away, not to expose his face to the light. 
 
 "Y T es, general," replied he. 
 
 "Ah' the French gentleman!" said the leader of the 
 fishermen to himself. "Peste! I have a great mind to 
 charge you with the commission, Menneville; he may know 
 me. Light! light!" This dialogue was pronounced at the 
 back of the tent, and in so low a voice that Monk could not 
 hear a syllable of it; he was, besides, talking with Athos. 
 Menneville got himself ready in the meantime, or, rather, 
 received the orders of his leader. 
 
 "Well?" said Monk. 
 
 "I am ready, general," said the fisherman. 
 
 Monk, Athos, and the fisherman left the tent. 
 
 "It is impossible!" thought Athos. "What dream could 
 put that into my head?" 
 
 "Go forward; follow the middle causeway, and stretch 
 out your legs," said Monk to the fisherman. 
 
 They were not twenty paces on their way, when the same 
 
?HE VICOMTE BE BRAGELOtfKE. 175 
 
 shadow that had appeared to enter the tent came out of it 
 again, crawled along as far as the piles, and, protected by 
 that sort of parapet placed along the causeway, carefully 
 observed the march of the general. All three disappeared 
 in the night haze. They were walking toward Newcastle, 
 the white stones of which appeared to them like sepulchers. 
 After standing for a few seconds under the porch, they 
 penetrated into the interior. The door had been broken 
 open by hatchets. A post of four men slept in safety in a 
 corner; so certain were they that the attack would not take 
 place on that side. 
 
 "Will not these men be in your way?" said Monk to 
 Athos. 
 
 "On the contrary, monsieur, they will assist in rolling 
 out the barrels, if your honor will permit them." 
 
 "You are right." 
 
 The post, however fast asleep, roused up at the first steps 
 of the three visitors among the briers and grass that in- 
 vaded the porch. Monk gave the password, and penetrated 
 into the interior of the convent, preceded by the light. He 
 walked last, watching even the least movement of Athos, 
 his naked dirk in his sleeve, and ready to plunge it into 
 the veins of the gentleman at the first suspicious gesture he 
 should see him make. But Athos, with a firm and sure 
 step, traversed the chambers and courts. Not a door, not 
 a window was left in this building. The doors had been 
 burned, some upon the spot, and the charcoal of them was 
 still jagged with the action of the fire, which had gone out 
 of itself, powerless, no doubt, to get to the heart of those 
 massive joints of oak fastened together by iron nails. As 
 to the windows, all the panes having been broken, birds of 
 darkness, alarmed by the torch, flew away through the 
 holes of them. At the same time, gigantic bats began to 
 trace their vast, silent circles around the intruders, while 
 their shadows appeared trembling upon the lofty stone 
 walls in the light projected by the torch. Monk concluded 
 there could be no man in the convent, since wild beasts and 
 birds were there still, and fled away at his approach. After 
 having passed the rubbish, and torn away more than one 
 branch of ivy that had made itself a guardian for the soli- 
 tude, Athos arrived at the vaults situated beneath the great 
 hall, but the entrance of which was from the chapel 
 There he stopped. "Here we are, general," said he. 
 
 "This, then, is the slab?" 
 
 -''res." 
 
176 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Ay, and here is the ring — but the ring is sealed into the 
 stone." 
 
 "We must have a lever." 
 
 "That's a thing very easy to find." 
 
 While looking round them, Athos and Monk perceived a 
 little ash of about three inches in diameter, which had shot 
 up in an angle of the wall, reaching to a window, which its 
 branches darkened. 
 
 "Have you a knife?" said Monk to the fisherman. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Cut down this tree, then." 
 
 The fisherman obeyed, but not without notching his cut- 
 lass. When the ash was cut and fashioned into the shape 
 of a lever the three men penetrated into the vault. 
 
 "Stop where you are," said Monk to the fisherman. 
 "We are going to dig up some powder; your light may be 
 dangerous." 
 
 The man drew back in a sort of terror, and faithfully 
 kept to the post assigned him, while Monk and Athos turned 
 behind a column at the foot of which, through a spiracle, 
 penetrated a moonbeam, reflected exactly by the stone of 
 which, the Comte de la Fere had come so far in search. 
 
 "This is it," said Athos, pointing out to the general the 
 Latin inscription. 
 
 "Yes," said Monk. 
 
 Then, as if still willing to leave the Frenchman one 
 means of evasion: 
 
 "Do you not observe that this vault has already been 
 broken into," continued he, "and that several statues have 
 been knocked down?" 
 
 "My lord, you have, without doubt, heard say that the 
 religious respect of your Scots loves to confide to the statues 
 of the dead the valuable objects they have possessed during 
 their lives. Therefore the soldiers had reason to think 
 that under the pedestals of the statues which ornament 
 most of these tombs, a treasure was hidden. They have 
 consequently broken down pedestal and statue; but the 
 tomb of the venerable canon, with which we have to do, is 
 not distinguished by any monument. I f . is simple, there- 
 fore it has been protected by the superstitious fear which 
 your puritans have always had of sacrilege. Not a morsel 
 of the masonry of this tomb has been chipped off," 
 
 "That is true," said Monk. 
 
 Athos seized the lever. 
 
 "Shall I help you?" said Monk. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 177 
 
 "Thank you, my lord; but I am not willing your honor 
 should put your hand to a work of which, perhaps, you 
 would not take the responsibility if you knew the probable 
 consequences of it." 
 
 Monk raised his head. 
 
 "What do you mean by that, monsieur?" 
 
 "I mean — but that man " 
 
 "Stop," said Monk; "I perceive what you are afraid of. 
 I will make a trial." Monk turned toward the fisherman, 
 the whole of whose profile was thrown upon the wall. 
 
 "Come here, friend," said he in English, and in a tone 
 of command. 
 
 The fisherman did not stir. 
 
 "That is well," continued he; "he does not know Eng- 
 lish. Speak to me, then, in English, if you please, mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 "My lord," replied Athos, "I have frequently seen men in 
 certain circumstances have the command over themselves 
 not to reply to a question put to them in a language they 
 understood. The fisherman is perhaps more learned than 
 we believe him to be. Send him away, my lord, I beg of 
 you." f 
 
 "Decidedly," said Monk, "he wishes to have me alone in 
 this vault. Never mind, we will go through with it; one 
 man is as good as another man; and we are alone. My 
 friend," said Monk to the fisherman, "go back up the stairs 
 we have just descended, and watch that nobody comes to 
 disturb us." The fisherman made a sign of obedience. 
 "Leave your torch," said Monk; "it would betray your 
 presence, and might procure you a musket-ball." 
 
 The fisherman appeared to appreciate the counsel; he 
 laid down the light, and disappeared under the vault of the 
 stairs. Monk took up the torch, and brought it to the foot 
 of the column. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" said he; "the money, then, is concealed under 
 this tomb?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord; and in five minutes you will no longer 
 doubt it." 
 
 At the same time Athos struck a violent blow upon the 
 plaster, which split, presenting a chink for the point of the 
 iever. Athos introduced the bar into this crack, and soon 
 large pieces of plaster yielded, rising up like rounded slabs. 
 Then the Comte de la Fere seized the stones and threw 
 them away with a force that hands so delicate as his might 
 nut have been, supposed capable of. 
 
178 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "My lord," said Athos, "this is plainly the masonry of 
 which I told your honor." 
 
 "Yes; but I do not yet see the casks," said Monk. 
 
 "If I had a poniard," 6aid Athos, looking round him, 
 "you should soon see them, monsieur. Unfortunately, I 
 left mine in your tent." 
 
 "I would willingly offer you mine," said Monk, "but the 
 blade is too thin for such work." 
 
 Athos appeared to look around him for a thing of some 
 kind that might serve as a substitute for the arm he desired. 
 Monk did not lose one of the movements of his hands, or 
 one of the expressions of his eyes. "Why do you not ask 
 the fisherman for his cutlass?" said Monk; "he has a cut- 
 lass." 
 
 "Ah! that is true," said Athos; "for he cut the tree 
 down with it." And he advanced toward the stairs. 
 
 "Friend," said he to the fisherman, "throw me down 
 your cutlass if you please; I want it." 
 
 The noise of the falling arm resounded over the marshes. 
 
 "Take it," said Monk; "it is a solid instrument, as I 
 have seen, and of which a strong hand might make good 
 use." 
 
 Athos only appeared to give to the words of Monk the 
 natural and simple sense under which they were to be heard 
 and understood. Nor did he remark, or at least appear to 
 remark, that when he returned with the weapon, Monk 
 drew back, placing his left hand on the stock of his pistol; 
 in the right he already held his dirk. He went to work 
 then, turning his back to Monk, placing his life in his 
 hands, without possible defense. He then struck, during 
 several seconds, so skillfully and sharply upon the inter- 
 mediary plaster, that it separated in two parts, and Monk 
 was able to discern two barrels, placed end to end, and 
 which their weight maintained motionless in their chalky 
 envelope. 
 
 "My lord," said Athos. "you see that my presentiments 
 have not been disappointed." 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," said Monk, "and I have good reason 
 to believe you are satisfied, are you not?" 
 
 "Doubtless I am; the loss of this money would have been 
 inexpressibly great to me; but I was certain that God, who 
 protects the good cause, would not have permitted this 
 gold, which should procure its triumph, to be diverted to 
 baser purposes." 
 
 "You are, upon my honor, as mysterious in your words 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 179 
 
 as in your actions, monsieur," said Monk. "Just now I 
 did not perfectly understand you when you said that you 
 were not willing to throw upon me the responsibility of the 
 work we were accomplishing." 
 
 "I had reason to say so, my lord." 
 
 "And now you speak to me of the good cause. What do 
 you mean by the words 'the good cause.' We are defend- 
 ing at this moment, in England, five or six causes, which 
 does not prevent every one from considering his own not 
 only as the good cause, but as the best. What is yours, 
 monsieur? Speak boldly, that we may see if, upon this 
 point, to which you appear to attach a great importance, 
 we are of the same opinion." 
 i Athos fixed upon Monk one of those penetrating looks 
 which seem to convey to him they are directed to a chal- 
 lenge to conceal a single one of his thoughts; then, taking 
 off his hat, he uegan in a solemn voice, while his inter- 
 locutor, with one hand upon his visage, allowed that long 
 and nervous nand to compress his mustache and beard, at 
 the same time that his vague and melancholy eye wandered 
 about the recesses of the vaults. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVI. 
 
 HEART AND MIND. 
 
 "My lord," said the Comte de la Fere, "you are a noble 
 Englishman, you are a loyal man; you are speaking to a 
 noble Frenchman, to a man of heart. This gold contained 
 in these two casks before us, I have told you was mine. I 
 was wrong — it is the first lie I have pronounced in my life, 
 a temporary lie, it is true. This gold is the property of 
 King Charles II., exiled from his country, driven from his 
 palaces, the orphan at once of his father and his throne, 
 and deprived of everything, even of the melancholy happi- 
 ness of kissing on his knees the stone upon which the hands 
 of his murderers have written that simple epitaph which 
 will eternally cry out for vengeance upon them: 'Here lies 
 Charles I.' " 
 
 Monk grew slightly pale, and an imperceptible shudder 
 crept over his skin and raised his gray mustache. 
 
 "I," continued Athos, "I, Comte de la Fere, the last, 
 the only faithful friend the poor abandoned prince has left, 
 I have offered him to come hither to find the man upon 
 
180 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONHE. 
 
 whom now depends the fate of royalty and of England: and 
 I am come, and have placed myself under the eye of this 
 man, and have placed myself naked and unarmed in his 
 hands, saying: 'My lord, here is the last resource of a 
 prince whom God made your master, whom his birth made 
 your king; upon you, and you alone, depend his life and his 
 future. Will you employ this money in consoling England 
 for the evils it must have suffered from anarchy; that is to 
 say, will you aid, and if not aid, will you allow to act, King 
 Charles II.? You are master, you are king, all-powerful 
 master and king, for chance sometimes defeats the work of 
 time and God. I am here alone with you, my lord; if the 
 success being divided alarms you, if my complicity annoys 
 you, you are armed, my lord, and here is a grave ready dug; 
 if, on the contrary, the enthusiasm of your cause carries 
 you away, if you are what you appear to be, if your hand in 
 what it undertakes obeys your mind, and your mind your 
 heart, here are the means of ruining forever the cause of 
 your enemy, Charles Stuart. Kill, then, the man you have 
 before you, for that man will never return to him who has 
 sent him without bearing with him the deposit Avhich 
 Charles I., his father, confided to him, and keep the gold 
 which may assist in carrying on the civil war. Alas! my 
 lord, it is the fate of this unfortunate prince. He must 
 either corrupt or kill, for everything resists him, every- 
 thing repulses him, everything is hostile to him; and yet 
 he is marked with the divine seal, and he must, not to 
 belie his blood, reascend the throne, or die upon the sacred 
 soil of his country. 
 
 "My lord, you have heard me. To any other but the 
 illustrious man who listens to me, I would have said: 'My 
 lord, you are poor; my lord, the king offers you this million 
 as an earnest of an immense bargain; take it, and serve 
 Charles II. as I served Charles I., and I feel assured that 
 God, who listens to us, who sees us, who alone reads in 
 your heart, shut up from all human eyes — I am assured 
 God will give you a happy eternal life after a happy death.' 
 But to General Monk, to the illustrious man of whose 
 standard I believe I have taken measure, I say: 'My lord, 
 there is for you in the history of peoples and kings a bril- 
 liant place, an immortal, imperishable glory, if alone, with- 
 out any other interest but the good of your country and the 
 interests of justice, you become the supporter of your king. 
 Many others have been conquerors and glorious usurpers; 
 you, my lord, you will be content with being the most vir- 
 
THE VICO^TE DE BRAGELOXNE. 181 
 
 tuous, the most honest, and the most incorrupt of men; 
 you will have held a crown in your hand, and instead of 
 placing it upon your own brow, you will have deposited it 
 upon the head of him for whom it was made. Oh, my 
 lord, act thus, and you will leave to posterity the most en- 
 viable of names, in which no human creature can rival 
 you.' " 
 
 Athos stopped. During the whole time that the noble 
 gentleman was speaking, Monk had not given one sign of 
 either approbation or disapprobation; scarcely even, during 
 this vehement appeal, had his eyes been animated with that 
 fire which bespeaks intelligence. The Comte de la Fere 
 looked at him sorrowfully, and on seeing that melancholy 
 countenance, felt discouragement penetrate to his very 
 heart. At length Monk appeared to recover, and broke the 
 silence. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, in a mild, calm tone, "in reply to 
 you, I will make use of your own words. To any other but 
 yourself I would reply by expulsion, imprisonment, or still 
 worse, for, in fact, you tempt me and you force me at the 
 same time. But you are one of those men, monsieur, to 
 whom it is impossible to refuse the attention and respect 
 they merit; you are a brave gentleman, monsieur — I say so, 
 and I am a judge. You just now spoke of a deposit which 
 the late king transmitted through you to his son — are you, 
 then, one of those Frenchmen who, as I have heard, en- 
 deavored to carry off Charles I. from Whitehall?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord; it was I who was beneath the scaffold 
 during the execution; I, who had not been able to redeem 
 it, received upon my brow the blood of the martyred king. 
 I received at the same time the last word of Charles I.; it 
 was to me he said, 'Remember!' and in saying, 'Remember!' 
 he made allusion to the money at your feet, my lord." 
 
 "I have heard much of you, monsieur," said Monk, "but 
 I am happy to have, in the first place, appreciated you by 
 my own observations, and not by my remembrances. I will 
 give you, then, explanations that I have given to no other, 
 and you will appreciate what a distinction I make between 
 you and the persons who have hitherto been sent to me." 
 
 Athos bowed and prepared to absorb greedily the words 
 which fell, one by one, from the mouth of Monk — those 
 words rare and precious as the dew in the desert. 
 
 "You spoke to me," said Monk, "of Charles II.; but 
 pray, monsieur, of what consequence to me is rhat pnantom 
 of a king? I have grown old in a war and in a policy which 
 
182 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 are nowadays so closely linked together that every man of 
 tue sword must fight in virtue of his rights or his ambition 
 with a personal interest, and not blindly behind an officer, 
 as in ordinary wars. For myself, I perhaps desire nothing, 
 but I fear much. In the war of to-day resides the liberty 
 of England, and, perhaps, that of every Englishman. How 
 can you expect that I, free in the position I have made for 
 myself, should go willingly and hold out my hands to the 
 shackles of a stranger? That is all Charles is to me. He 
 has fought battles here which he has lost, he is therefore a 
 bad captain; he has succeeded in no negotiation, he is 
 therefore a bad diplomatist; he has paraded his wants and 
 his miseries in all the courts of Europe, he has therefore a 
 weak and pusillanimous heart. Nothing noble, nothing 
 great, nothing strong, has hitherto emanated from that 
 genius which aspires to govern one of the greatest kingdoms 
 of the earth. I know this Charles, then, under none but 
 bad aspects, and you would wish me, a man of good sense, 
 to go and make myself gratuitously the slave of a creature 
 who is inferior to me in military capacity, in politics, and 
 in dignity! No, monsieur. When some great and noble 
 action shall have taught me to value Charles, I will perhaps 
 recognize his rights to a throne from which we have cast 
 the father because he wanted the virtues which his son has 
 to this time wanted; but hitherto, in fact of rights, I only 
 recognize my own; the revolution made me a general, my 
 sword will make me protector, if I wish it. Let Charles 
 show himself, let him present himself, let him pass through 
 the concurrence open to genius, and, above all, let him re- 
 member that he is of a race from whom more will be looked 
 for than from any other. Therefore, monsieur, say no 
 more about him. I neither refuse nor accept; I reserve 
 myself — I wait." 
 
 Athos knew Monk to be too well informed of all concern- 
 ing Charles to venture to urge the discussion further; it 
 was neither the time nor the place. "My lord," then said 
 he, "I have nothing to do but to thank you." 
 
 "And for what, monsieur? For your having formed a 
 correct opinion of me, and for my having acted according 
 to your judgment? Is that, in truth, worthy of thanks? 
 This gold which you are about to carry to Charles, will 
 serve me as a test for him, by seeing the use he will make 
 of it. I shall have an opinion which now I have not." 
 
 "And yet does not your honor fear to compromise your- 
 self by allowing such a sum to be carried away for the service 
 of your enemy?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELO^NE. 183 
 
 "My enemy, say you? Eh, monsieur, I have no enemies. 
 1 am in the service of the parliament, which orders me to 
 combat General Lambert and Charles Stuart — its enemies, 
 and not mine. I combat them. If the parliament, on the 
 contrary, ordered me to unfurl my standards on the port of 
 London, to assemble my soldiers on the banks to receive 
 Charles II. " 
 
 "You would obey?" cried Athos joyfully. 
 
 "Pardon me," said Monk, smiling, "I was going — I, a 
 gray-headed man — in truth, how did I forget myself? I 
 was going to speak like a foolish young man." 
 
 "Then you would not obey?" said Athos. 
 
 "I do not say that either, monsieur. The welfare of my 
 country before everything. God, who has given me the 
 power, has, no doubt, willed that I should have that power 
 for the good of all; and He has given me, at the same time, 
 discernment. If the parliament were to order such a thing, 
 I should reflect." 
 
 The brow of Athos became clouded. "Then I may de- 
 cidedly say that your honor is not inclined to favor King 
 Charles II.?" 
 
 "You continue to question me, Monsieur le Comte; allow 
 me, in my turn, if you please." 
 
 "Do, monsieur; and may God inspire you with the idea 
 of replying to me as frankly as I will reply to you." 
 
 "When you shall have taken this money back to your 
 prince, what advice will you give him?" 
 
 Athos fixed upon Monk a proud and resolute look. "My 
 lord," said he, "with this million, which others would per- 
 haps employ in negotiating, I would advise the king to 
 raise two regiments, to enter by Scotland, which you have 
 just pacified; to give to the people the franchises which the 
 revolution promised them, and in which it has not, in all 
 cases, kept its word. I should advise him to command in 
 person this little army, which would, believe me, increase, 
 and to die, standard in hand, and sword in sheath, saying: 
 'Englishmen! I am the third king of my race you have 
 killed; beware of the justice of God!' " 
 
 Monk hung down his head, and mused for an instant. 
 "If he succeeded," said he, "which is very improbable, but 
 not impossible — for everything is possible in this world — 
 what would you advise him to do?" 
 
 "To think that by the Avill of God he lost his crown, but 
 by the good will of men he has recovered it." 
 
 An ironical smile passed over the lips of Monk. "Unfor- 
 
184 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 tunately, monsieur/"' said he, "kings do not know how to 
 follow good advice.'' 
 
 "Ah, my lord, Charles II. is not a king," replied Athos, 
 smiling in his turn, but with a very different expression 
 than Monk had done. 
 
 "Let us terminate this, Monsieur le Comte — that is your 
 desire, is it not?" 
 
 Athos bowed. 
 
 "I will give orders that these two casks shall be trans- 
 ported whither you please. Where are you lodging, mon- 
 sieur?"' 
 
 "In a little bourg, at the mouth of the river, your honor." 
 
 "Oh, I know the bourg; it consists of five or six houses, 
 does it not?" 
 
 "Exactly. Well, I inhabit the first — two net-makers oc- 
 cupy it with me; it is their bark which placed me on shore." 
 
 "But your own vessel, monsieur?" 
 
 "My vessel is at anchor, a quarter of a mile at sea, and 
 waits for me." 
 
 "You do not think, however, of setting out immediately?" 
 
 "My lord, I will try once more to convince your honor." 
 
 "You will not succeed," replied Monk; "but it is of con- 
 sequence that you should quit Newcastle without leaving 
 on your passage the least suspicion that might prove injuri- 
 ous to me or you. To-morrow my officers think Lambert 
 will attack me. I, on the contrary, will be bound he will 
 not stir; it is, in my opinion, impossible. Lambert leads 
 an army devoid of homogeneous principles, and there is no 
 possible army with such elements. I have taught my sol- 
 diers to consider my authority subordinate to another, 
 which causes that after me, around me and beneath me. 
 they still look for something. It would result, that if I 
 were dead, whatever might happen, my army would not be 
 demoralized all at once; it results, that if I chose to absent 
 myself, for instance, as it does please me to do sometimes, 
 there would not be in my camp the shadow of uneasiness or 
 disorder. I am the magnet — the sympathetic and natural 
 strength of the English. All those scattered arms that will 
 be sent against me I shall attract to myself. Lambert, at 
 this moment, commands eighteen thousand deserters; but 
 I have never mentioned that to my officers, you may easily 
 suppose. Nothing is more useful to an army than the ex- 
 pectation of a coming battle; everybody is awake — everybody 
 is on his guard. I tell you this that you may live in perfect 
 security. Do not be in a hurry, then, to cross the seas; 
 
THE VIOOMTE DE BRAGELCWNE. 185 
 
 within a week there will be something fresh, either a battle 
 or an accommodation. Then, as you have judged me to be 
 an honorable man, and confided your secret to me, I have 
 to thank you for this confidence, and I will come and pay 
 you a visit or send for you. Do not go before I send you 
 word. I repeat the request." 
 
 "I promise you, general," cried Athos, with a joy so 
 great, that, in spite of all his circumspection, he could not 
 nrevent its sparkling in his eyes. 
 
 Monk surprised this flash, and immediately extinguished 
 it by one of those mute smiles which always broke, between 
 these two interlocutors, the way which Athos believed he 
 had made in his mind. 
 
 "Then, my lord, it is a week that you desire me to wait?" 
 
 "A week; yes, monsieur." 
 
 "And during these days what shall I do?" 
 
 "If there should be a battle, keep at a distance from it, I 
 conjure you. I know the French delight in such amuse- 
 ments; you might take a fancy to see how we fight, and 
 you might meet with some chance shot. Our Scotchmen 
 are very bad marksmen, and I do not wish that a worthy 
 gentleman like you should return to France wounded. I 
 should not like either to be obliged, myself, to send to your 
 prince his million left here by you; for then it would be 
 said, and with reason, that I paid the Pretender to enable 
 him to make war against the parliament. Go, then, mon- 
 sieur, and let it be done as has been agreed upon." 
 
 "Ah, my lord," said Athos, "what joy it would give me 
 to be the first that penetrated to the noble heart which 
 beats beneath that cloak!" 
 
 "You decidedly think, then, that I have secrets," said 
 Monk, without changing the half-cheerful expression of 
 his countenance. "Why, monsieur, what secret can you 
 expect to find in the hollow head of a soldier? But it is 
 getting late, and our torch is almost out; let us call our 
 man." 
 
 "Hola!" cried Monk in French, approaching the stairs; 
 "hola! fisherman!" 
 
 The fisherman, benumbed by the cold night-air, replied 
 in a hoarse voice, asking what they wanted of him. 
 
 "Go to the post," said Monk, "and order a sergeant, in 
 the name of General Monk, to come here immediately." 
 
 This was a commission easily performed; for the sergeant, 
 uneasy at the general's being in that desolate abbey, had 
 drawn nearer by degrees, and was not much further off 
 
186 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 than the fisherman. The general's order was therefore 
 heard by him, and lie hastened to obey it. 
 
 "Get a horse and two men," said Monk. 
 
 "A horse and two men?" repeated the sergeant. 
 
 "Yes," replied Monk. "Have you any means of getting 
 a horse with a pack-saddle or two paniers?" 
 
 "No doubt, at a hundred paces off, in the Scotch camp." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "What shall I do with the horse, general?" 
 
 "Look here." 
 
 The sergeant descended the three steps which separated 
 him from Monk, and came into the vault. 
 
 "You see," said Monk, "that gentleman yonder?" 
 
 "Yes, general." 
 
 "And you see these two casks?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "There are two casks, one containing powder, and the 
 other balls; I wish these casks to be transported to the 
 little bourg at the mouth of the river, and which I reckon 
 upon occupying to-morrow with two hundred muskets. 
 Yon understand that the commission in a secret one, for it 
 is a movement that may decide the fate of the battle." 
 
 "Oh, general!" murmured the sergeant. 
 
 "Mind, then! Let these casks be fastened on to the 
 horse, and let them be escorted by two men and you to the 
 residence of this gentleman, who is my friend. But take 
 care that nobody knows it." 
 
 "I would go by the marsh if I knew the road," said the 
 sergeant. 
 
 "I know one myself," said Athos; "it is not wide, but 
 it is solid, having been made upon piles; and with precau- 
 tion we shall get there safely enough." 
 
 "Do everything this gentleman shall order you to do." 
 
 "Oh! oh! the casks are heavy," said the sergeant, trying 
 to lift one. 
 
 "They weigh four hundred pounds each, if they contain 
 what they ought to contain, do they not, monsieur?" 
 
 "Thereabouts," said Athos. 
 
 The sergeant went in search of the two men and the 
 horse. Monk, left alone with Athos, affected to speak to 
 him of nothing but indifferent things, while examining the 
 vault in a cursory manner. Then, hearing the horse's steps: 
 
 "I leave you with your men, monsieur," said he, "and 
 return to the camp. You are perfectly safe." 
 
 "I shall see you again, then, my lord?" asked Athos. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 187 
 
 ''That is agreed upon, monsieur, and with much pleasure. " 
 
 Monk held out his hand to Athos. 
 
 "Ah! my lord, if you would!" murmured Athos. 
 
 "Hush! monsieur, it is agreed that we shall speak no 
 more of that." And bowing to Athos, he went up the 
 stairs, passing, about the middle of them, his men who 
 were coming down. He had not gone twenty paces, when 
 a faint but prolonged whistle was heard at a distance. 
 Monk listened, but seeing nothing and hearing nothing, he 
 continued his route. Then he remembered the fisherman, 
 and looked about for him; but the fisherman had disap 
 peared. If he had, however, looked with more attention, 
 he might have seen that man, bent double, gliding like a 
 serpent along the stones and losing himself in the mist, 
 floating over the surface of the marsh. He might have 
 equally seen, attempting to pierce that mist, a spectacle 
 that might have attracted his attention; and that was the 
 rigging of the vessel, which had changed place, and was 
 now nearer the shore. But Monk saw nothing; and think- 
 ing he had nothing to fear, he entered the deserted cause- 
 way which led to his camp. It was then that the disappear- 
 ance of the fisherman appeared strange, and that a real 
 suspicion began to take possession of his mind. He had 
 just placed at the orders of Athos the only post that could 
 protect him. He had a mile of causeway to traverse before 
 he could regain his camp. The fog increased with such in- 
 tensity that he could scarcely distinguish objects at ten 
 paces' distance. Monk then thought he heard the sound 
 of an oar over the marsh on the right. "Who goes there?" 
 said he. 
 
 But nobody answered; then he cocked his pistol, took 
 his sword in his hand, and quickened his pace, without, 
 however, being willing to call anybody. Such a summons, 
 for which there was no absolute necessity, appeared un- 
 worthy of him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ' THE NEXT DAY. 
 
 It was seven o'clock in the morning, the first rays of day 
 lightened the pools of the marsh, in which the sun was re- 
 flected like a red ball, when Athos, awaking and opening 
 the window of his bedchamber, which looked out upon the 
 
188 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 banks of the river, perceived, at fifteen paces' distance 
 from him, the sergeant and the men who had accompanied 
 him the evening before, and who, after having deposited 
 his casks at his house, had returned to the camp by the 
 causeway on the right. 
 
 For what could these men, after having returned to the 
 camp, come back? That was the question which first pre- 
 sented itself to Athos. The sergeant, with his head raised, 
 appeared to be watching the moment when the gentleman 
 should appear, to address him. Athos, surprised to see 
 these men there, whom he had seen depart the night before, 
 could not prevent himself from expressing his astonishment 
 to them. 
 
 "There is nothing surprising in that, monsieur," said 
 the sergeant; "for yesterday the general commanded me to 
 watch over your safety, and I thought it right to obey that 
 order." 
 
 "Is the general at the camp?" asked Athos. 
 
 "No doubt he is, monsieur; as when he left you he was 
 going back." 
 
 "Well, wait for me a moment; I am going thither to ren- 
 der au account of the fidelity with which you fulfilled your 
 duty, and to get my sword, which I left upon the table in 
 the tent." 
 
 "That falls out very well," said the sergeant, "for we 
 were about to request you to do so." 
 
 Athos fancied he could detect an air of equivocal bonhomie 
 upon the countenance of the sergeant; but the adventure 
 of the vault might have excited the curiosity of the man, 
 and he was not surprised that he allowed some of the feel- 
 ings which agitated his mind to appear in his face. Athos 
 closed the doors carefully, confiding the keys to Grimaud,who 
 had chosen his domicile beneath the shed itself, which led 
 to the cellar where the casks had been deposited. The ser- 
 geant escorted the Comte de la Fere to the camp. There 
 a fresh guard awaited him, and relieved the four men who 
 had conducted Athos. This fresh guard was commanded 
 by the aid-de-camp Digby, who, on their way, fixed upon 
 Athos looks so little encouraging, that the Frenchman 
 asked himself, whence arose, with regard to him, this vigi- 
 lance and this severity, when the evening before he had 
 been left perfectly free. He continued his way not the less 
 to the headquarters, keeping to himself the observations 
 which men and things forced him to make. He found 
 under the general's tent, to which he had been introduced 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BEAGELONKE. 189 
 
 the evening before, three superior officers; these were 
 Monk's lieutenant and two colonels. Athos perceived his 
 sword: it was still on the table where he had left it. Neither 
 of the officers had seen Athos, consequently neither of them 
 knew him. Monk's lieutenant asked him, at the appear- 
 ance of Athos, if that were the same gentleman with whom 
 the general had left the tent. 
 
 "Yes, your honor," said the sergeant; "it is the same." 
 
 "But," said Athos haughtily, "I do not deny it, I think; 
 and now, gentlemen, in my turn, permit me to ask you to 
 what purpose are these questions asked, and particularly 
 some explanations upon the tone in which you ask them?" 
 
 "Monsieur," said the lieutenant, "if we address these 
 questions to you, it is because we have a right to do so, and 
 if we make them in a particular tone, it is because that 
 tone, believe me, agrees with the circumstances." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Athos, "you do not know who I am, 
 but I must tell you I acknowledge no one here but General 
 Monk as my equal. Where is he? Let me be conducted to 
 him, and if he has any questions to put to me, I will answer 
 him, and to his satisfaction, I hope. I repeat, gentlemen, 
 where is the general?" 
 
 "Eh! good God! you know better than we do, where he 
 is," said the lieutenant. 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yes, you." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Athos, "I do not understand you." 
 
 "You will understand me — and, on your part, in the first 
 place, do not speak so loud." 
 
 Athos smiled disdainfully. 
 
 "We don't ask you to smile," said one of the colonels 
 warmly; "we require you to answer." 
 
 "And I, gentlemen, declare to you that I will not reply 
 until I am in the presence of the general." 
 
 "But," replied the same colonel who had already spoken, 
 a you know very well that that is impossible." 
 
 "This is the second time I have received this strange re- 
 ply to the wish I express," said Athos. "Is the general 
 absent?" 
 
 This question was made with such apparent good faith, 
 and the gentleman wore an air of such natural surprise, 
 that the three officers exchanged a meaning look. The 
 lieutenant, by a tacit convention with the other two, was 
 spokesman. 
 
 "Monsieur, the general left you last night in the bounda- 
 ries of the monastery," 
 
190 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 °Yes, monsieur.'" 
 
 "And you went " 
 
 "It is not for me to answer you, but for those who nay© 
 accompanied me. They were your soldiers, ask them." 
 
 "But if we please to interrogate you?" 
 
 "Then it will please me to reply, monsieur, that I do not 
 appeal to any one here, that I know no one here but the 
 general, and that it is to him alone I will reply." 
 
 "So be it, monsieur; but as we are the masters, we con- 
 stitute ourselves a council of war, and when you are before 
 judges you must reply." 
 
 The countenance of Athos expressed nothing but aston- 
 ishment and disdain, instead of the terror the officers 
 expected to read in it at this threat. 
 
 "Scotch or English judges upon me, a subject of the king 
 of France; upon me, placed under the safeguard of British 
 honor! You are mad, gentlemen!" said Athos shrugging 
 his shoulders. 
 
 The officers looked at one another. "Then, monsieur," 
 said one of them, "do you pretend not to know where th« 
 general is?" 
 
 "To that, monsieur, I have already replied." 
 
 "Yes, but you have already replied an incredible thing." 
 
 "It is true, nevertheless, gentlemen. Men of my rank are 
 not generally liars. I am a gentleman, I have told you, and 
 when I have at my side the sword which, by an excess of 
 delicacy, I last night left upon the table whereon it still lies, 
 believe me, no man says that to me which I am unwilling 
 to hear. I am at this moment disarmed; if you pretend 
 to be my judges, try me; if you are but my executioners, 
 kill me." 
 
 "But, monsieur — " asked the lieutenant in a more cour- 
 teous voice, struck with the lofty coolness of Athos. 
 
 "Monsieur, I came to speak confidentially with your gen- 
 eral about affairs of importance. It was not an ordinary 
 welcome that he gave me. The accounts your soldiers can 
 give you may convince you of that. If, then, the general 
 received me in that manner, he knew what were my titles 
 to his esteem. Now, you do not suspect, I should think, 
 that I should reveal my secrets to you, and still less his." 
 
 "But these casks, what do they contain?" 
 
 "Have you not pat that question to your soldiers? What 
 was their reply?" 
 
 "That they contained powdev and ball.' 
 
 "From whom had tbey that information? They must 
 have told you chat . ^ 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOHNB. 191 
 
 s 'From the general; but we are not dupes." 
 
 "Beware, gentlemen; it is not to me you are now giving 
 the lie, it is to your leader." 
 
 The officers again looked at one another. Athos contin- 
 ued: "Before your soldiers the general told me to wait a 
 week, and at the expiration of that week he would give me 
 the answer he had to make me. Have I fled away? No; 1 
 wait." 
 
 "He told yoa to wait a week!" cried the lieutenant. 
 
 "He told me so, clearly so, monsieur, that I have a sloop 
 at the mouth of the river, which I could with ease have 
 joined yesterday, and embarked. Now, if I have remained, 
 it was only in compliance with the desire of your general; 
 his honor having requested me not to depart without a last 
 audience, which he fixed at a week hence. 1 repeat to you, 
 then, I am waiting." 
 
 The lieutenant turned toward the other officers, and said, 
 in a low voice: "If this gentleman speaks truth, there may 
 still be some hope. The general may be carrying out some 
 negotiations so secret that he thought it imprudent to in- 
 form even us. Then the time limited for his absence would 
 be a week." Then, turning toward Athos: "Monsieur," 
 said he, "your declaration is of the most serious importance; 
 are you willing to repeat it under the seal of an oath?" 
 
 "Monsieur," replied Athos, "I have always lived in a 
 world where my simple word was regarded as the most 
 .sacred of oaths." 
 
 "This time, howevej, monsieur, the circumstance is more 
 
 grave than any you may have been placed in. The safety 
 
 <of the whole army is at stake. Eeflect: the general has 
 
 I disappeared, and our search for him has been in vain. Is 
 
 i this disappearance natural? Has a crime been committed? 
 
 Are we not bound to carry our investigations to extremity? 
 
 Have we any right to wait with patience? At this moment, 
 
 everything, monsieur, depends upon the words you are 
 
 about to pronounce." 
 
 "Interrogated thus, monsieur, I no longer hesitate," 
 said Athos. "Yes, I came hither to converse confidentially 
 with General Monk, and to ask of him an answer regarding 
 certain interests; yes, the general being, doubtless, unable 
 to pronounce before the expected battle begged me to re- 
 main a week in the house I inhabit, promising me that in a 
 week I should see him again. Yes, all this is true, and I 
 swear it, by the God who is the absolute master of my life 
 and vours." Athos pronounced these words with so much 
 
192 THE VICOMTE i)E BRAGELONNE. 
 
 grandeur and solemnity, that the three officers were almost 
 convinced. Nevertheless, one of the colonels made a last 
 attempt. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "although we may be now persuaded 
 of the truth of what you say, there is yet a strange mystery 
 in all this. The general is too prudent a man to have thus 
 abandoned his army on the eve of a battle, without having 
 at least given to one of us a notice of it. As for myself, I 
 cannot believe but that some strange event has been the 
 cause of this disappearance. Yesterday some foreign fish- 
 ermen came to sell their fish here; they were lodged yonder 
 among the Scots; that is to say, on the road the general 
 took with this gentleman to go to the abbey, and to return 
 from it. It was one of those fishermen that accompanied 
 the general with a light. And this morning, bark and fish- 
 ermen have all disappeared, carried away by the night's 
 tide." 
 
 "For my part," said the lieutenant, "I see nothing in 
 that that is not quite natural, for these people were not 
 prisoners." 
 
 "No; but I repeat it was one of them who lighted the 
 general and this gentleman to the abbey, and Digby assures 
 us that the general had strong suspicions concerning those 
 people. Now, who can say whether these people were not 
 connected with this gentleman; and that, the blow being 
 struck, the gentleman, who is evidently brave, did not re- 
 main to reassure us by his presence, and to prevent our 
 researches being made in a right direction?" 
 
 This speech made an impression upon the other two 
 officers. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Athos, "permit me to tell you, that 
 your reasoning, though specious in appearance, nevertheless 
 wants consistency, as regards me. I have remained, yoi 
 say, to divert suspicion. Well! on the contrary, suspicion 
 arise in me as well as in you; and I say, it is impossible, 
 geptlemen, that the general, on the eve of a battle, should 
 leave his army without saying anything to, at least, one of 
 his officers. Yes, there is some strange event connected 
 with this; yet, instead of being idle and waiting, you must 
 display all the activity and all the vigilance possible. I am 
 your prisoner, gentlemen, upon parole or otherwise. My 
 honor is concerned in the ascertaining of what is become 01 
 General Monk, and to such a point, that if you were to say 
 to me, 'Departs I should reply: 'No, I will remain!' And 
 if you were to ask my opinion. I should add: "Yes, the 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 1 93 
 
 gener.il is the victim of some conspiracy, for, if he had in- 
 tended to leave the camp he would have told me so.' Seek, 
 then, search the land, search the sea; the general has not 
 gone with his own good will." 
 
 The lieutenant made a sign to the two other officers. 
 
 ''No, monsieur," said he, "no; in your turn you go too 
 far. The general has nothing to suffer from these events, 
 and, no doubt, has directed them. What Monk is now 
 doing he has often done before. We are wrong in alarming 
 ourselves; his absence will, doubtless, be of short duration; 
 therefore, let us beware, lest by a pusillanimity which the 
 general would consider a crime, of making his absence pub- 
 lic; and by that means demoralizing the army. The general 
 gives a striking proof of his confidence in us; let us show 
 ourselves worthy of it. Gentlemen, let the most profound 
 silence cover all this with an impenetrable veil; we will de- 
 tain this gentleman, not from mistrust of him with regard 
 to the crime, but to assure more effectively the secrecy of 
 the absence of the general, and the concentrating of it 
 among tfurselves; therefore, until fresh orders, the gentle- 
 man will remain at headquarters." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Athos, "you forget that last night 
 the general confided to me a deposit over which I am bound 
 to watch. Give me whatever guard you like, enchain me 
 if you like, but leave me the house I inhabit for my prison. 
 The general, on his return, would reproach you, I swear on 
 the honor of a gentleman, for having displeased him in 
 this." 
 
 "So be it, monsieur," said the lieutenant; "return to 
 your abode." 
 
 Then they placed over Athos a guard of fifty men, who 
 surrounded bis house, without losing sight of him for a 
 minute. 
 
 The secret remained secure, but hours, days, passed away 
 without the general's returning, or without anything being 
 heard of him. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVIII. 
 
 SMUGGLING. 
 
 Two days after the events we have just related, and 
 while every instant General Monk was looked for in the 
 camp to which he did not return, a little Dutch felucca, 
 
194 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 manned by eleven men, cast anchor upon the coast of 
 Scheveningen nearly within cannon-shot of the port. It 
 was night, the darkness was great, the sea rose in the dark- 
 ness; it was a capital time to land passengers and merchan- 
 dise. 
 
 The road of Scheveningen forms a vast crescent; it is not 
 very deep and not very safe; therefore, nothing is seen sta- 
 tioned there but large Flemish hoys, or some of those Dutch 
 barks which fishermen draw up upon the sand upon rollers, 
 as the ancients did, according to Virgil. When the tide is 
 rising, ascends and advances on the land, it is not prudent 
 to bring the vessels too close in shore, for, if the wind is 
 fresh, the prows are buried in the sand; and the sand of 
 that coast is spongy; it receives easy, but does not give up 
 so. It was on this account, no doubt, that a boat was de- 
 tached from the bark, as soon as the latter had cast anchor, 
 and came with eight sailors, amid whom was to be seen an 
 object of an oblong form, a sort of large panier or bale. 
 
 The shore was deserted; the few fishermen inhabiting the 
 rlune were gone to bed. The only sentinel that guarded 
 the coast (a coast very badly guarded, seeing that a landing 
 from large ships was impossible), without having been able 
 to follow the example of the fishermen, who were gone to 
 bed, imitated them so far that he slept at the back of his 
 watch-box as soundly as they slept in their beds. The only 
 noise to be heard, then, was the whistling of the night- 
 breeze among the bushes and the brambles of the dune. 
 But the people who were approaching were, doubtless, mis- 
 trustful people, for this real silence and apparent solitude 
 did not satisfy them. Their boat, therefore, scarcely visi- 
 ble as a dark speck upon the ocean, glided along noiselessly, 
 avoiding the use of their oars for fear of being heard, and 
 gained the nearest land. Scarcely had it touched the 
 ground when a single man jumped out of the boat, after 
 having given a brief order, in a manner which denoted the 
 habit of commanding. In consequence of this order, several 
 muskets immediately glittered in the feeble light reflected 
 from that mirror of the heavens, the sea; and the oblong 
 bale of which we spoke, containing, no doubt, some contra- 
 band object, was transported to land with infinite precau- 
 tions. Immediately after, the man who had landed first set 
 off at a hasty pace diagonally toward the village of Scheve- 
 ningen, directing his course to the nearest point of the 
 wood. When there, he sought for that house already de- 
 scribed as the temporary residence — and a very humble resi- 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE. 1§S 
 
 i dence — of him who was styled by courtesy King of England, 
 All were asleep there, as everywhere else, only a large dog, 
 i of the race of those which the fishermen of Scheveningen 
 harness to little carts to carry fish to the Hague, began to 
 bark formidably as soon as the stranger's steps were audible 
 beneath the windows But this watchfulness, instead of 
 alarming the newly landed man, appeared, on the contrary, 
 to give him great joy, for his voice might perhaps have 
 proved insufficient to rouse the people of the house, while, 
 with an auxiliary of that sort, his voice became almost use- 
 less. The stranger waited then, till these reiterated and 
 sonorous barkings should, according to all probability, havri 
 produced their effect, and then he ventured a summons. 
 On hearing his voice, the dog began to roar with such vio- 
 lence that soon another voice was heard from the interior, 
 appeasing that of the dog. With that the dog was quieted, 
 
 "What do you want?" asked that voice, at the same time 
 weak, broken, and civil. 
 
 "I want His Majesty King Charles II., King of England.," 
 said the stranger. 
 
 "What do you want with him?" 
 
 "I want to speak to him." 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "Ah, mordioux! you ask too much; I don't like tailing 
 through doors." 
 
 "Only tell me your name." 
 
 "I don't like to declare my name in the open air, neither ; 
 besides, you may be sure I shall not eat your dog, and I 
 hope to God he will be as reserved with respect to me " 
 
 "You brin^ news, perhaps, monsieur, do you not?'"' re- 
 plied the voice, patient and querulous as that of an old 
 man. 
 
 "I will answer for it, I bring you news you little expect. 
 Open the door, then, d you please, hein!" 
 
 "Monsieur," persisted the old man, "do you believe, 
 upon your soul and conscience, that your news is worth 
 waking the king for?" 
 
 "For Ood's sake, my dear monsieur, draw your bolts; 
 you will not be sorry, I will swear, for the trouble it will give 
 you. I am worth my weight in gold, parole d'Jionneur." 
 
 "Monsieur, I cannot, notwithstanding, open the door till 
 you have told me your name." 
 
 "Must I, then?" 
 
 "It is by the order of my master, monsieur-" 
 
 "Well, my name is — but, I ^arn you, my name will tell 
 you absolutely nothing. '• 
 
196 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Never mind; tell it, notwithstanding. " 
 
 "Well, I am the Chevalier d'Artagnan." 
 
 The voice uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "Oh! good heavens!" said the voice on the other side of 
 the door, "Monsieur d'Artagnan! What happiness! I 
 could not help thinking I knew that voice." 
 
 "Humph!" said D'Artagnan. "My voice is known here! 
 That's flattering." 
 
 "Oh, yes, we know it," said the old man, drawing the 
 bolts; "and here is the proof." And at these words he let 
 in D'Artagnan, who, by the light of the lantern he carried 
 in his hand, recognized his obstinate interlocutor. 
 
 "Ah, mordiouz!" cried he, "why, it is Parry! I ought 
 to have known that." 
 
 "Parry, yes, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan it is I. What 
 joy to see you once again!" 
 
 "You are right there — what joy!" said D'Artagnan, 
 pressing the old man's hand. "There, now, you'll go and 
 inform the king, will you not?" 
 
 "But the king is asleep, my dear monsieur." 
 
 "Mordiouz ! then wake him. He won't scold you for 
 having disturbed him, I will promise you." 
 
 "You come on the part of the comte, do you not?" 
 
 "The Comte de la Fere?" 
 
 "From Athos?" 
 
 "Ma foil no; I come on my own part. Come, Parry, 
 quick! The king — I want the king." 
 
 Parry did not think it his duty to resist any longer; he 
 knew D'Artagnan long before; he knew that, although a 
 Gascon, his words never promised more than they could 
 stand to. He crossed a court and a little garden, appeased 
 the dog, who seemed seriously to wish to taste the musket- 
 eer, and went howling to the shelter of a chamber forming 
 the ground floor of a little pavilion. Immediately a little 
 dog inhabiting that chamber replied to the great dog inhab- 
 iting the court. 
 
 "Poor king!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "these are his 
 bodyguards. It is true he is not the worst guarded on that 
 account." 
 
 "What is wanted with me?" asked the king from the 
 back of the chamber. 
 
 "Sire, it is Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan, who brings 
 you some news." 
 
 A noise was immediately heard in the chamber, a door 
 was opened, and a flood of light inundated the corridor and 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXSTE. 19? 
 
 the garden. The king was working by the light of a lamp. 
 Papers were lying about upon his desk, and he had com- 
 menced the foul copy of a letter which showed, by the 
 numerous erasures, the trouble he had had in writing it. 
 
 "Come in, Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, turning 
 round. Then, perceiving the fisherman, "What do you 
 mean, Parry? Where is Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artag- 
 nan?" asked Charles. 
 
 "He is before you, sire," said M. d'Artagnan. 
 
 "What, in that costume?" 
 
 "Yes; look at me, sire; do you not remember having 
 seen me at Blois, in the antechamber of King Louis XIV. ?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, and I remember I was much pleased 
 with you." 
 
 D'Artagnan bowed. "It was my duty to conduct myself 
 as I did, the moment I knew that I had the honor of being 
 near your majesty." 
 
 "You bring me news, do you say?" 
 
 "Yes, sire.' 
 
 "From the King of France?" 
 
 "Mafoi! no, sire," replied D'Artagnan. "Your majesty 
 must have seen yonder that the King of France is only oc- 
 cupied with his own majesty." 
 
 Charles raised his eyes toward heaven. 
 
 "No, sire, no," continued D'Artagnan. "I bring news 
 entirely composed of personal facts. Nevertheless, I hope 
 your majesty will listen to the facts and news with some 
 favor." 
 
 "Speak, monsieur." 
 
 "If I am not mistaken, sire, your majesty spoke a great 
 deal at Blois of the embarrassed state in which the affairs 
 of England are." 
 
 Charles colored. "Monsieur," said he, "it was to the 
 King of France I related " 
 
 "Oh! your majesty is mistaken," said the musketeer 
 coolly; "I know how to speak to kings in misfortune. It 
 is only when they are in misfortune that they speak to me; 
 once fortunate, they look upon me no more. I have, then, 
 for your majesty, not only the greatest respect, but, still 
 more, the most absolute devotion; and that, believe me, 
 with me, sire, means something. Now, hearing your maj- 
 esty complain of your destiny, I found that you were noble 
 and generous, and bore misfortune well." 
 
 "In truth," said Charles, much astonished, "I do not 
 know which I ought to prefer, your freedoms or your re- 
 spects.' 5 
 
198 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "You will choose presently, sire," said D'Artagnm. 
 "Then your majesty complained to your brother, Louis 
 XIV., of the difficulty you experienced in returning to 
 England and regaining your throne, for want of men and 
 money." 
 
 Charles allowed a movement of impatience to escape him. 
 
 "And the principal object your majesty found iu your 
 way," continued D'Artagnan, "was a certain general com- 
 manding the armies of the parliament, and who was playing 
 yonder the part of another Cromwell. Did not your maj- 
 esty say so?" 
 
 "Yes; but I repeat to you, monsieur, those words were 
 for the king's ears alone." 
 
 "And you will see, sire, that it is very fortunate that 
 they fell into those of his lieutenant of musketeers. That 
 man so troublesome to your majesty was one General Monk, 
 I believe; did I not hear his name, correctly, sire?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; but, once more, to what purpose are all 
 these questions?" 
 
 "Oh, I know very well, sire, that etiquette will not allow 
 kings to be interrogated. I hope, however, presently you 
 will pardon my want of etiquette. Your majesty added 
 that, notwithstanding, if you could see him, confer with 
 him, and meet him face to face, you would triumph, either 
 by force or persuasion, over that obstacle — the only serious 
 one, the only insurmountable one, the only real one you 
 met with on your road." 
 
 "All that is true, monsieur; my destiny, my future, my 
 obscurity, or my glory depend upon that man; but what do 
 you draw from that?" 
 
 "One thing alone, that if this General Monk is trouble- 
 some to the point you describe, it would be expedient to 
 get rid of him, your majesty, or to make an ally of him." 
 
 "Monsieur, a king who has neither army nor money, as 
 you have heard my conversation with my brother Louis, 
 has no means of acting against a man like Monk." 
 
 "Yes, sire, that was your opinion, I know very well; but, 
 fortunately for you, it was not mine." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "That, without an army and without a million, I have 
 done — I myself — what your majesty "thought could alone be 
 done with an army and a million." 
 
 "How! What do you say? What have you done?" 
 
 "What have I done? Eh! well, sire, I went yonder to 
 take this man who is so troublesome to your majesty." 
 
THE ViCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. ] 09 
 
 "In England?" 
 
 "Exactly, sire." 
 
 "You went to take Monk in England?" 
 
 "Should I by chance have done wrong, sire?" 
 
 "In truth, you are mad, monsieur." 
 
 "Not the least in the world, sire." 
 
 "You have taken Monk?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "In the midst of his camp." 
 
 The king trembled with impatience. 
 
 "And having taken him on the causeway of Newcastle, I 
 bring him to your majesty," said D'Artagnan simply. 
 
 "You bring him to me!" cried the king, almost indig- 
 nant at what he considered a mystification. 
 
 "Yes, sire," replied D'Artagnan, in the same tone, "I 
 bring him to you; he is down below yonder, in a large chest 
 pierced with holes, so as to allow him to breathe." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 "Oh! don't be uneasy, sire; we have taken the greatest 
 possible care of him. He comes in good state, and in per- 
 fect condition. Would your majesty please to see him, to 
 talk with him, or to have him thrown into the sea?" 
 
 "Oh, heavens!" repeated Charles, "oh, heavens! do you 
 speak the truth, monsieur? Are you not insulting me with 
 some unworthy pleasantry? You have accomplished this 
 unheard-of act of audacity and genius — impossible!" 
 
 "Will your majesty permit me to open the window?" 
 said D'Artagnan, opening it. 
 
 The king had not time to reply yes or no. D'Artagnan 
 gave a shrill and prolonged whistle, which he repeated three 
 times through the silence of the night. 
 
 "There!" said he, "he will be brought to your majesty." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH D'ARTAGNAN" BEGINS TO FEAR HE HAS PLACED 
 HIS MONET AND THAT OF PLANCHET IN THE SINKING 
 FUND. 
 
 The king could not overcome his surprise, and looked 
 sometimes at the smiling face of the musketeer-, and some- 
 times at the dark window which opened into the nigH. 
 But before he had fixed his ideas, eight of D'Artagnan's 
 
200 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 men, for two had remained to take care of the bark, 
 brought to the house, where Parry received him, that object 
 of an oblong form, which, for the moment, inclosed the 
 destinies of England. Before he left Calais, D'Artagnan 
 had had made in that city a sort of coffin, large and deep 
 enough for a man to turn in it at his ease. The bottom 
 and sides, properly mattressed, formed a bed sufficiently 
 soft to prevent the rolling of the ship turning this kind of 
 cage into a rat-trap. The little grating, of which D'Artag- 
 nan had spoken to the king, like the visor of a helmet, was 
 placed opposite to the man's face. It was so constructed 
 that, at the least cry, a sudden pressure would stifle that 
 cry, and, if necessary, him who had uttered that cry. 
 D'Artagnan was so well acquainted with his crew and his 
 prisoner, that during the whole voyage he had been in 
 dread of two things: either that the general would prefer 
 death to this sort of imprisonment, and would smother 
 himself by endeavoring to speak, or that his guards would 
 allow themselves to be tempted by the offers of the pris- 
 oner, and put him, D'Artagnan, into the box instead of 
 Monk. D'Artagnan, therefore, had passed the two days 
 and the two nights of the voyage close to the coffin, alone 
 with the general, offering him wine and food, which he had 
 refused, and constantly endeavoring to reassure him upon 
 the destiny which awaited him at the end of this singular 
 captivity. Two pistols on the table and his naked sword 
 made D'Artagnan easy with regard to indiscretions from 
 without. When once at Scheveningen, he had felt com. 
 pletely reassured. His men greatly dreaded any conflict 
 with the lords of the soil. He had, besides, interested in 
 his cause him who had morally served him as lieutenant, 
 and whom we have seen reply to the name of Menneville. 
 The latter, not being a vulgar spirit, had more to risk than 
 the others, because he had more conscience. He had faith 
 in a future in the service of D'Artagnan, and, consequently, 
 would have allowed himself to be cut to pieces, rather than 
 violate the order given by his leader. Thus it was that 
 once landed, it was to him D'Artagnan had confided the 
 care of the chest and the general's respiration. It was him, 
 too, he had ordered to have the chest brought by the seven 
 men as soon as he should hear the triple whistle. We have 
 seen that the lieutenant obeyed. The coffer once in the 
 house, D'Artagnan dismissed his men with a gracious smile, 
 saying: 
 
 "Messieurs, you have rendered a great service to King 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 201 
 
 Charles II., who in less than six weeks will be King of 
 England. Your gratification will then be doubled. Ee- 
 turn to the boat and wait for me." 
 
 Upon which they departed with such shouts of joy as ter- 
 rified even the dog himself. 
 
 D'Artagnan had caused the coffer to be brought as far as 
 into the king's antechamber. He then, with great care, 
 closed the door of this antechamber, after which he opened 
 ihe coffer, and said to the general: 
 
 "General, I have a thousand excuses to make to you; my 
 manner of acting has not been worthy of such a man as 
 you, I know very well, but I wished you to take me for the 
 captain of a bark. And then England is a very inconven- 
 » ient country for transports. I hope, therefore, you will 
 ' take all that into consideration. But now, general, you 
 are at liberty to get up and walk." This said, he cut the 
 bonds which fastened the arms and hands of the general. 
 The latter got up, and then sat down with the countenance 
 of a man who expects death. D'Artagnan opened the door 
 of Charles' cabinet, and said: "Sire, here is your enemy, 
 Monsieur Monk; I promised myself to perform this service 
 for your majesty. It is done; now order as you please. 
 Monsieur Monk," added he, turning toward the prisoner, 
 "you are in the presence of His Majesty Charles II., Sover- 
 eign Lord of Great Britain." 
 
 Monk raised toward the prince his coldly stoical look, 
 and replied: 
 
 "I know no king of Great Britain; I recognize even here 
 no one worthy of bearing the name of gentleman; for it is 
 in the name of King Charles II. that an emissary, whom I 
 took for an honest man, has come and laid an infamous 
 snare for me. I have fallen into that snare; so much the 
 worse for me. Now, you, the tempter," said he to the 
 king; "you, the executor," said he to D'Artagnan, "re- 
 taiember what I am about to say to you: you have my body, 
 you may kill it, and I persuade you to do so, for you shall 
 never have my mind or my will. And now, ask me not a 
 single word, for from this moment I will not open my 
 mouth, even to cry out. I have said." 
 
 And he pronounced these words with the savage invinci- 
 ble resolution of the most mortified Puritan. D'Artagnan 
 looked at his prisoner like a man who knows the value of 
 every word, and who fixes that value according to the ac- 
 cent with which it has been pronounced. 
 
 "The fact is," said he, in a whisper to the kimr. "the 
 
202 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 general is an obstinate man; he would not take a mouthful 
 of bread, nor swallow a drop of wine, during the two days 
 of our voyage. But as from this moment it is your majesty 
 who must decide his fate, I wash my hands of him." 
 
 Monk, erect, pale, and resigned, waited with his eyes 
 fixed and his arms folded. D'Artagnan turned toward him. 
 
 "You will please to understand perfectly," said he, "that 
 your speech, otherwise very fine, does not suit anybody, not 
 even yourself. His majesty wished to speak to you, you 
 refused him an interview; why now that you are face to 
 face, that you are here by a force independent of your will, 
 why do you confine yourself to rigors which I consider as 
 useless and absurd? Speak! what the devil! speak, if only 
 to say 'No.' " 
 
 Monk did not unclose his lips, Monk did not turn his 
 eyes; Monk stroked his mustache with a thoughtful air, 
 which announced that matters were going on badly. 
 
 During all this time Charles II. had fallen into a pro- 
 found reverie. For the first time he found himself face to 
 face with Monk; that is to say, of that man he had so much 
 desired to see; and with that peculiar glance which God has 
 given to eagles and king she had fathomed the abyss of his 
 heart. He beheld Monk, then, resolved positively to die 
 rather than speak, which was not to be wondered at in so 
 considerable a man, the wound in whose mind must at the 
 moment have been cruel. Charles II. formed, on the in- 
 stant, one of those resolutions upon which an ordinary man 
 rests his life, a general his fortune, and a king his kingdom. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he to Monk, "you are perfectly right 
 upon certain points; I do not, therefore, ask you to answer 
 me, but to listen to me." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, during which the king 
 looked at Monk, who remained impassible. 
 
 "You have made me just now a painful reproach, mon- 
 sieur," continued the king; "you said that one of my emis- 
 saries had been to Newcastle to lay a snare for you, and 
 that, parenthetically, cannot be understood by Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan here, and to whom, before everything, I owe 
 sincere thanks for his generous, his heroic devotion." 
 
 D'Artagnan bowed with respect; Monk took no notice. 
 
 "For Monsieur d'Artagnan — and observe, Monsieur Monk, 
 I do not say this to excuse myself — for Monsieur d'Artag- 
 nan," continued the king, "has gone into England on hia 
 own proper movement, without interest, without orders, 
 without hope, like a true gentleman as he is, to render * 
 
THE ViCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 203 
 
 service to an unfortunate king, and to add to the illustrious 
 actions of an existence already so well filled one fine action 
 more." 
 
 D'Artagnan colored a little, and coughed to keep his 
 countenance. Monk did not stir. 
 
 "You do not believe what I tell you, Monsieur Monk," 
 continued the king. "I can understand that — such proofs 
 of devotion are so rare that their reality may well be put in 
 doubt." 
 
 "Monsieur would do wrong not to believe you, sire," 
 cried D'Artagnan; "for that which your majesty has said 
 is the exact truth, and the truth so exact that it appears, in 
 going to fetch the general, I have done something which 
 sets everything wrong. In truth, if it be so, I am in de- 
 spair. " 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the king, pressing the hand 
 of the musketeer; "you have obliged me as much as if you 
 had promoted the success of my cause, for you have revealed 
 to me an unknown friend, to whom I shall ever be grateful, 
 and whom I shall always love." And the king pressed his 
 hand cordially. "And," continued he, bowing to Monk, 
 "an enemy whom I shall henceforth esteem at his proper 
 value." 
 
 The eyes of the Puritan flashed, but only once, and his 
 countenance, for an instant illuminated by that flash, re- 
 sumed its somber impassibility. 
 
 "Then, Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued Charles, "this 
 is what was about to happen: Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, 
 whom you know, I believe, has set out for Newcastle." 
 
 "What, Athos?" exclaimed D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes, that was his nom de guerre, I believe. The Comte 
 de la Fere had then set out for Newcastle, and was going, 
 perhaps, to bring the general to hold a conference with me 
 or with those of my party, when you violently, as it appears, 
 interfered with the negotiation." 
 
 " Mordioux!" replied D'Artagnan, "who entered the camp 
 the very evening in which I succeeded in getting into it 
 with my fishermen " 
 
 An almost imperceptible frown on the brow of Monktold 
 D'Artagnan that he had surmised rightly. 
 
 "Yes, yes," muttered he; "I thought I knew his person; 
 I even fancied I knew his voice. Unlucky wretch that I 
 am! Oh! sire, pardon me; I thought I had so successfully 
 steered my bark." 
 
 "There is nothing ill in it, monsieur." said the ki^o;, 
 
?04 THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELOKNTE. 
 
 "except that the general accuses me of having laid a snare 
 for him, which is not the case. No, general, those are not 
 the arms which I contemplated employing with you, as you 
 will soon see. In the meanwhile, when I give you my word 
 upon the honor of a gentleman, believe me, monsieur, be- 
 lieve me! Now, Monsieur d'Artagnan, a word with you, if 
 you please." 
 
 "I listen on my knees, sire." 
 
 "You are truly at my service, are you not?'* 
 
 "Your majesty has seen I am, too much so." 
 
 "That is well; from a man like you one word suffices. 
 In addition to that word you bring actions. General, have 
 the goodness to follow me. Come with us, Monsieur d'Ar- 
 tagnan." 
 
 D'Artagnan, considerably surprised, prepared to cbey. 
 Charles II. went out, Monk followed him, D'Artagnan fol- 
 lowed Monk. Charles took the path by which D'Artagnan 
 had come to his abode; the fresh sea-breezes soon saluted 
 the faces of the three nocturnal travelers, and, at fifty paces 
 from the little gate which Charles opened, they found 
 themselves upon the dune in the face of the ocean, which, 
 having ceased to rise, reposed upon the shore like a mon- 
 ster fatigued. Charles II. walked pensively along, his head 
 hanging down and his hand beneath his cloak. Monk fol- 
 lowed him, with crossed arms and an uneasy look. D'Ar- 
 tagnan came last, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. 
 
 "Where is the boat in which you came, gentlemen?" said 
 Charles, to the musketeer. 
 
 "Yonder, sire; I have seven men and an officer Waiting 
 me in that little bark, which is lighted by a fire." 
 
 "Yes, I see; the boat is drawn upon the sand, but you 
 certainly did not come from Newcastle in that frail bark?" 
 
 "No, sire; I freighted a felucca on my own account, 
 which is at anchor within cannon-shot of the dunes. It 
 was in that felucca we made the voyage." 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king to Monk, "you are free." 
 
 However firm of will, Monk could not suppress an excla- 
 mation. The king added an affirmative motion of his head, 
 and continued: 
 
 "We will waken a fisherman of the village, who will put 
 his boat to sea immediately, and will take you back to any 
 place you may command him. Monsieur d'Artagnan here 
 will escort your honor. I place Monsieur d'Artagnan under 
 the safeguard of your loyalty. Monsieur Monk." 
 
 Monk allowed u murmur, of surprise to escape, bin*, and 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOSTNE. 205 
 
 D'Artagnan a profound sigh. The king, without appear- 
 ing to notice either, knocked against the deal trellis which 
 inclosed the cabin of the principal fisherman inhabiting the 
 dune. 
 
 "Halloo, Keyser!" cried he, "awake! 
 
 "Who calls me? asked the fisherman. 
 
 "I, Charles, the king." 
 
 "Ay, my lord!" cried Keyser, rising ready uressed from 
 the sail in which he slept, as people sleep in a hammock. 
 "What can I do to serve you?" 
 
 "Captain Keyser," said Charles, "you must set sail im- 
 mediately. Here is a traveler who wishes to freight your 
 bark, and will pay you well; use him well." And the king 
 drew back a few steps to allow Monk to speak to the fisher- 
 man. 
 
 "I wish to cross over into England," said Monk, who 
 spoke Dutch enough to make himself understood. 
 
 "This minute," said the patron, "this very minute, if 
 you wish it." 
 
 "But will that be long?" said Monk. 
 
 "Not half an hour, your honor. My eldest son is at this 
 moment preparing the boat, as we were going out fishing at 
 three o'clock in the morning." 
 
 "Well, is all arranged?" asked the king, drawing near. 
 
 "All but the price," said the fisherman; "yes, sire." 
 
 "That is my affair," said Charles, "the gentleman is my 
 friend." 
 
 Monk started and looked at Charles, on hearing this 
 word. 
 
 "Very well, my lord," replied Keyser. And at that mo- 
 ment they heard Keyser's eldest son, signaling from the 
 shore with the blast of a bull's horn. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," said the king, "be gone!" 
 
 "Sire!" said D'Artagnan, "will it please your majesty to 
 grant me a few minutes? I have engaged men, and I am 
 going without them, I must give them notice." 
 
 "Whistle to them," said Charles, smiling. 
 
 D'Artagnan accordingly whistled, while the patron Key- 
 ser replied to his son; and four men, led by Menneville, 
 attended the first summons. 
 
 "Here is some money on account," said D'Antagnan, 
 putting into their hands a purse containing two thousand 
 five hundred livres in gold. "Go and wait for me at Calais; 
 yon know where." 
 
 And D'Artagnan heaved a profound sigh, as he let the 
 purse M' into the hands of Menneville. 
 
206 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "What, are you leaving us?" cried the men. 
 
 "For a short time," said D'Artagnan, "or for a long 
 time, who knows? But with two thousand five hundred 
 livres, and the two thousand five hundred you have already 
 received, you are paid according to our agreement. "We 
 are quits, then, my friends." 
 
 "But the boat?" 
 
 "Do not trouble yourself about that." 
 
 "Our things are on board the felucca." 
 
 "Go and seek them, and afterward set off immediately 
 
 "Yes, captain." 
 
 D'Artagnan returned to Monk, saying: "Monsieur, I 
 await your orders, for I understand we are to go together, 
 unless my company be disagreeable to you." 
 
 "On the contrary, monsieur," said Monk. 
 
 "Come, gentlemen, on board," cried Keyser's son. 
 
 Charles bowed to the general with grace and dignity, 
 saying: "You will pardon me this unfortunate accident, 
 and the violence to which you have been subjected, when 
 you are convinced that I was not the cause of them." 
 
 Monk bowed profoundly without replying. On his side, 
 Charles affected not to say a word to D'Artagnan in private, 
 but aloud: "Once more, thanks, Monsieur le Chevalier," 
 said he, "thanks for your services. They will be repaid 
 you by the Lord God, who, I hope, reserves for me alone 
 trials and troubles." 
 
 Monk followed Keyser, and his son embarked with them. 
 D'Artagnan came after, muttering to himself: "Poor Plan- 
 chet! poor Planchet! I am very much afraid we have made 
 but a bad speculation." 
 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 THE SHARES OF THE COMPANY OF PLANCHET & CO. RISE 
 AGAIN TO PAR. 
 
 During the passage Monk only spoke to D'Artagnan in 
 cases of urgent necessity. Thus, when the Frenchman hes- 
 itated to come and take his repast, a poor repast composed 
 of salt fish, biscuit, and Holland gin, Monk called him, 
 saying: "To table, monsieur, to table!" This was all. 
 D'Artagnan, from being himself, on all great occasions, 
 extremely concise, did not draw from the general's concise- 
 ness a favorable augury of the result of his mission. Now,, 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 207 
 
 as D'Artagnan had plenty of time for reflection, he battered 
 his brains during this time in endeavoring to find out how 
 Athos had seen King Charles, how he had conspired his 
 departure with him, and lastly, how he had entered Monk's 
 camp; and the poor lieutenant of musketeers plucked a 
 hair from his mustache every time he reflected that the 
 cavalier who accompanied Monk on the night of the famous 
 abduction must have been Athos. At length, after a pas 
 sage of two nights and two days, the patron Keyser touched 
 the point where Monk, who had given all orders during the 
 voyage, had commanded they should land. It was exactly 
 at the mouth of the little river near which Althos had 
 chosen his abode. Day was declining, a splendid sun, like 
 a red steel buckler, was plunging the lower extremity of his 
 disk under the blue line of the sea. The felucca was mak- 
 ing fair way up the river, tolerably wide in that part, but 
 Monk, in his impatience, desired to be landed, and Keyser's 
 boat placed him and D'Artagnan upon the muddy bank, 
 amid the reeds. D'Artagnan, resigned to obedience, fol- 
 lowed Monk exactly as a chained bear follows his master; 
 but the position humiliated him not a little, and he grum- 
 bled to himself that the service of kings was a bitter one, 
 and that the best of them was good for nothing. Monk 
 walked with long and hasty strides; it might be thought 
 that he did not yet feel certain of having regained English 
 land. They had already begun to perceive distinctly a few 
 of the cottages of the sailors and fishermen spread over the 
 little quay of this humble port, when, all at once, D'Artag- 
 nan cried out: 
 
 "God pardon me! there is a house on fire!" 
 
 Monk raised his eyes, and perceived there was, in fact, a 
 house which the flames were beginning to devour. It had 
 begun at a little shed belonging to the house, the roof of 
 which it had seized upon. The fresh evening breeze agi- 
 tated the fire. The two travelers quickened their steps, 
 hearing loud cries, and seeing, as they drew nearer, soldiers 
 with their glittering arms pointing toward the house on 
 fire. It was, doubtless, this menacing occupation which 
 had made them neglect to signalize the felucca. Monk 
 stopped short for an instant, and, for the first time, formu- 
 lated his thoughts with words. 
 
 "Eh! but," said he, "perhaps they are not my soldiers, 
 but Lambert's." 
 
 These words contained at once a pain, an apprehension, 
 and a reproach perfectly intelligible to D'Artagnan. In 
 
208 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 fact, during the general's absence, Lambert might hard 
 given battle, conquered, and dispersed the parliament's 
 army, and taken with his own the place of Monk's army, 
 deprived of its strongest support. At this doubt, which 
 passed from the mind of Monk to his own, D'Artagnan 
 made this reasoning: 
 
 '•'One of two things is going to happen; either Monk has 
 epoken correctly, and there are no longer any but Lambert- 
 ists in the country — that is to say, enemies who would 
 receive me wonderfully well, since it is to me they owe 
 their victory; or nothing is changed, and Monk, transported 
 with joy at finding his camp still in the same place, will 
 bot prove too severe in his settlement with me." 
 
 While thinking thus, the two travelers advanced, and 
 began to find themselves engaged in a little knot of sailors, 
 who looked on with sorrow at the burning house, but did 
 hot dare to say anything, on account of the menaces of the 
 toldiers. Monk addressed one of these sailors: 
 
 "What is going on here?" asked he. 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the man, not recognizing Monk as 
 an officer, under the thick cloak which enveloped him, 
 "that house was inhabited by a foreigner, and this foreigner 
 became suspected by the soldiers. Then they wanted to 
 get into his house under the pretense of taking him to the 
 camp; but he, without being frightened by their numbers, 
 threatened death to the first who should cross the threshold 
 of his door; and as there was one who did venture, the 
 Frenchman stretched him on the earth with a pistol-shot." 
 
 "Ah! he is a Frenchman, is he?" said D'Artagnan, rub- 
 bing his hands. "Good!" 
 
 "How, good?" replied the fisherman. 
 
 "No, I don't mean that. Next — my tongue tripped." 
 
 "Next, monsieur? why, the other men became as enraged 
 as so many lions; they fired more than a hundred shots at 
 the house; but the Frenchman was sheltered by the wall, 
 and every time they tried to enter by the door they met 
 with a shot from his lackey, whose aim is deadly, d'ye see? 
 Every time they threatened the window, they met with a 
 pistol-shot from the master. Look and count — there are 
 seven men down." 
 
 "Ah! my brave compatriot," cried D'Artagnan, "wait a 
 little, wait a little. I will be with you; and we will give an 
 account of this canaille." 
 
 "One instant, monsieur," said Monk — "wait." 
 
 "Long?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 209 
 
 ".No; only the time to ask a question." Then, turning 
 toward the sailor, "My friend," asked he, with an emotion 
 which, in spite of all his self-command, he could not con- 
 ceal, "whose soldiers are these, pray tell me?" 
 
 "Whose should they be but that madman, Monk's?" 
 
 "There has been no battle, then?" 
 
 "A battle, yes; but what good? Lambert's army is melt- 
 ing away like snow in April. All come to Monk, officers 
 and soldiers. In a week Lambert won't have fifty men 
 left." 
 
 The fisherman was interrupted by a fresh salvo of mus- 
 ketry discharged against the house, and by another pistol- 
 shot which replied to the salvo, and struck down the most 
 daring of the aggressors. The rage of the soldiers was at 
 its height. The fire still continued to increase, and a 
 crest of flame and smoke whirled and spread over the roof 
 of the house. D'Artagnan could no longer contain himself. 
 
 "Ilordioux!" said he to Monk, glancing at him sideways, 
 "are you a general, and allow your men to burn houses and 
 assassinate people, while you look on and warm your hands 
 at the blaze of the conflagration? Mordioux! you are not a 
 man." 
 
 "Patience, monsieur, patience!" said Monk, smiling. 
 
 "Patience! yes, until that brave gentleman is roasted — is 
 that what you mean?" And D'Artagnan rushed forward. 
 
 "Remain where you are, monsieur," said Monk in a tone 
 of command. And he advanced toward the house, just as 
 an officer had approached it, saying to the besieged: "The 
 house is burning, you will be grilled within an hour. There 
 is still time; come, tell us what you know of General Monk, 
 and we will spare your life. Reply, or by St. Patrick " 
 
 The besieged made no answer; he was no doubt reloading 
 his pistol. 
 
 "A reinforcement is gone for," continued the officer; 
 "in a quarter of an hour there will be a hundred men round 
 your house." 
 
 "I reply to you," said the Frenchman: "Let your men 
 be sent away; I will come out freely and repair to the camp 
 alone, or else I will be killed here." 
 
 "Mille tonnerres /" shouted D'Artagnan, "why, that's 
 the voice of Athos! Ah, canailles! and the sword of D'Ar- 
 tagnan flamed from its sheath. Monk stopped him, and 
 advanced himself, exclaiming, in a sonorous voice: "Halloo! 
 what is going on here? Dig by, whence is this fire? why 
 these cries?" 
 
210 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''The general!" cried Digby, letting the point of his 
 sword fall. 
 
 "The general!" repeated the soldiers. 
 
 "Well, what is there so astonishing in that?" said Monk, 
 in acalmtone. Then, silence being re-established: "Now," 
 said he, "who lighted this fire?" 
 
 The soldiers hung down their heads. 
 
 "What, do I ask a question, and nobody answers me?" 
 said Monk. "What, do I find a fault, and nobody repairs 
 it? The fire is still burning, I believe." 
 
 Immediately the twenty men rushed forward, seizing 
 pails, buckets, jars, barrels, and extinguishing the fire with 
 as much ardor as they had, an instant before, employed in 
 promoting it. But already, and before all the rest, D'Ar- 
 tagnan had applied a ladder to the house, crying: 
 
 "Athos! It is I, D'Artagnan! Do not kill me, my dear- 
 est friend!" 
 
 And in a moment the comte was clasped in his arms. 
 
 In the meantime, Grimaud, preserving his calm air, dis- 
 mantled the fortification of the ground floor, and after hav- 
 ing opened the door, stood, with his arms crossed, quietly 
 on the sill. Only, at hearing the voice of D'Artagnan, he 
 had uttered an exclamation of surprise. The fire being ex- 
 tinguished the soldiers presented themselves, Digby at their 
 head. 
 
 "General," said he, "excuse us; what we have done was 
 for the love of your honor, whom we thought lost." 
 
 "You are mad, gentlemen. Lost! Is a man like me to 
 be lost? Am I not, by chance, permitted to be absent, ac- 
 cording to my pleasure, without giving formal notice? Do 
 you, by chance, take me for a citizen from the city? Is a 
 gentleman, my friend, my guest, to be besieged, entrapped, 
 and threatened with death, because he is suspected? What 
 signifies that word, suspected? Curse me if I don't have 
 every one of you shot that the brave gentleman has left 
 alive!" 
 
 "General," said Digby piteously, "there were twenty- 
 eight of us, and see, there are eight on the ground." 
 
 "I authorize Monsieur le Comte de la Fere to send the 
 twenty to join the eight," said Monk stretching out his hand 
 to Athos. "Let them return to camp. Monsieur Digby, 
 you will consider yourself under arrest during a month." 
 
 "General " 
 
 "That is to teach you, monsieur, not to act, aiiother t'v.iie t 
 without orders." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 211 
 
 "I had those of the lieutenant, general." 
 
 "The lieutenant has no such orders to give you, and he 
 shall be placed under arrest, instead of you, if he has really 
 commanded you to burn this gentleman." 
 
 "He did not command that, general; he commanded us 
 to bring him to the camp; but the comte was not willing to 
 follow us." 
 
 "I was not willing that they should enter and plunder 
 Bay house," said Athos to Monk, with a significant look. 
 
 "And you were quite right. To the camp, I say!" The 
 soldiers departed with dejected looks. "Now we are 
 alone," said Monk to Athos, "have the goodness to tell me, 
 monsieur, why you persisted in remaining here, while you 
 had your felucca " 
 
 "I waited for you, general," said Athos. "Had not your 
 honor appointed me a meeting in a week?" 
 
 An eloquent look from D'Artagnan made it clear to Monk 
 that these two men, so brave and so loyal, had not acted in 
 concert for his abduction. He knew already it could not 
 be so. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he to D'Artagnan, "you were perfectly 
 right. Have the kindness to allow me a moment's conver- 
 sation with Monsieur le Comte de la Fere." 
 
 D'Artagnan took advantage of this to go and ask Gri- 
 maud how he did. Monk requested Athos to conduct him 
 to the chamber he lived in. 
 
 This chamber was still full of smoke and rubbish. More 
 than fifty balls had passed through the windows, and muti- 
 lated the walls. They found a table, inkstand, and mate- 
 rials for writing. Monk took up a pen, wrote a single line, 
 signed it, folded the paper, sealed the letter with the seal 
 of his ring, and passed over the missive to Athos, saying: 
 
 "Monsieur, carry, if you please, this letter to King 
 Charles II., and set out immediately, if nothing detains 
 you here any longer." 
 
 "And the casks?" said Athos. 
 
 "The fisherman who brought me hither will assist you in 
 transporting them on board. Be gone, if possible, within 
 an hour." 
 
 "Yes, general," said Athos. 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried Monk from the window. 
 D'Artagnan ran up precipitately. "Embrace your friend 
 and bid him adieu, monsieur; he is returning to Holland." 
 
 "To Holland!" cried D Artagnan; "and I?" 
 
 "You are at liberty to follow him, monsieur; but I re- 
 quest you to remain," said Monk. " w ill you refuse me?" 
 
SI 2 THE YTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Oh, no, general; I am at your orders." 
 
 D'Artagnan embraced Athos, and only had time to bid 
 him adieu. Monk watched them both. Then he took 
 upon himself the preparations for the departure, the carry- 
 ing of the casks on board, and the embarkation of Athos; 
 then, taking D'Artagnan by the arm, who was quite amazed 
 and agitated, he led him toward Newcastle. While going 
 along, the general leaning on his arm, D'Artagnan could 
 not help murmuring to himself: 
 
 "Come, come; it seems to me that the shares of the 
 house of Planchet & Co. are rising." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MONK REVEALS HIMSELF. 
 
 D'Artagnan, although he flattered himself with better 
 success, had, nevertheless, not too well comprehended his 
 situation. It was a strange and grave subject for him to 
 reflect upon — this voyage of Athos into England; this 
 league of the king with Athos, and that extraordinary com- 
 bination of his design with that of the Comte de la Fere. 
 The best way was to let things follow their own train. An 
 imprudence had been committed, and, while having suc- 
 ceeded as he had promised, D'Artagnan found that he had 
 gained no advantage by his success. Since everything was 
 lost, he could risk no more. D'Artagnan followed Monk 
 through his camp. The return of the general had produced 
 a marvelous effect, for his people had thought him lost. 
 But Monk, with his austere look and icy demeanor, appeared 
 to ask of his eager lieutenants and delighted soldiers the 
 cause of all this joy. Therefore, to the lieutenants who 
 had come to meet him, and who expressed the uneasiness 
 with which they had learned his departure: 
 
 "Why is all this?" said he. "Am I obliged to render an 
 account of myself to you?" 
 
 "But, your honor, the sheep may well trembie without 
 the shepherd." 
 
 "Tremble!" replied Monk, with his calm and powerful 
 voice. "Ah, monsieur, what a word! Curse me, if my 
 sheep have not both teeth and claws, I renounce being their 
 shepherd. Ah, you tremble, gentlemen, do you?" 
 
 "Yes, general, for you." 
 
 "Oh! pray meddle with your own concerns. If I have 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOffNE. 213 
 
 not the wit God gave to Oliver Cromwell, I have that which 
 He has sent to me; I am satisfied with it, however little it 
 may be." 
 
 The officer mads no reply; and Monk, having imposed 
 silence on his people, all remained persuaded that he had 
 accomplished some important work or made some important 
 trial. This was forming a very poor conception of his 
 patience and scrupulous genius. Monk, if he had the good 
 faith of the Puritans, his allies, must have returned thanks 
 with much fervor to the patron saint who had taken him 
 from the box of M. d'Artagnan. While these things were 
 going on, our musketeer could not help constantly repeat- 
 ing: "God grant that Monsieur Monk may not have as 
 much self-love as I have; for I declare if any one had put 
 me into a coffer with that grating over my mouth, and car- 
 ried me so packed up, like a calf, across the seas, 1 should 
 retain such an ill remembrance of my. pious looks in that 
 coffer, and such an ugly animosity against him who had 
 inclosed me in it, I should dread so greatly to see a sarcastic 
 smile blooming upon the face of the malicious wretch, or in 
 his attitude any. grotesque imitation of my position in the 
 box, that, mordioux! I should plunge a good poniard into 
 his throat in compensation of the grating, and would nail 
 him down in a veritable bier, in remembrance of the false 
 coffin in which I had been left to grow moldy for two days.'* 
 And D'Artagnan spoke honestly when he spoke thus; for 
 the skin of our Gascon was a very thin one. Monk, for- 
 tunately entertained other ideas. He never opened his mouth 
 concerning the past to his timid conqueror; but he admitted 
 him very near to his person in his labors, took him with 
 him to several reconnaissances, in such a way as to obtain 
 that which he evidently warmly desired — a rehabilitation in 
 the mind of D'Artagnan. The latter conducted himself 
 like a past-master in the art of flattery; he admired all 
 Monk's tactics, and the ordering of his camp; he joked 
 very pleasantly upon the circumvallations of the camp of 
 Lambert, who had, he said, very uselessly given himself the 
 trouble to inclose a camp for twenty thousand men, whil" 
 an acre of ground would have been quite sufficient for th fl 
 corporal and fifty guards who would, perhaps, remain faith 
 ful to him. Monk, immediately after his arrival, had 
 accepted the proposition made by Lambert the evening be- 
 fore, for an interview, and which Monk's lieutenants had 
 refused, under the pretext that the general was indisposed. 
 This interview was neither long nor interesting; Lambert 
 
214 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 
 
 demanded a profession of faith of his rival. The latter de- 
 clared he had no other opinion but that of the majority. 
 Lambert asked if it would not be more expedient to termi- 
 nate the quarrel by an alliance than by a battle. Monk 
 thereupon required a week for consideration. Now, Lam- 
 bert could not refuse this; and Lambert, nevertheless, had 
 come, saying that he should devour the army of Monk. 
 Therefore, at the end of the interview, which Lambert's 
 party watched with impatience, nothing was decided — 
 neither treaty nor battle — 'the rebel army, as M. a Artagnan 
 had foreseen, began to prefer the good cause to tiie bad 
 one, and the parliament, rumpish as it was, to the pompous 
 nothings of the designs of Lambert. They remembered, 
 likewise, the good repasts of London — the profusion of ale 
 and sherry with which the citizens of London paid their 
 friends, the soldiers; they looked with terror at the black 
 war bread, at the troubled waters of the Tweed — too salt 
 for the glass, not enough so for the pot; and they said to 
 themselves, "Are not the roast meats kept warm for Monk 
 in London ?" From that time nothing was heard of but 
 desertion in Lambert's army. The soldiers allowed them- 
 selves to be drawn away by the force of principles, which 
 are like discipline, the obligatory tie in everybody consti- 
 tuted for any purpose. Monk defended the parliament — 
 Lambert attacked it. Monk had no more inclination to 
 support the parliament than Lambert had, but '.ic had it 
 inscribed upon his standarus, so that all those of the con- 
 trary party were reduced to write upon theirs, "Eebellion," 
 which sounded ill in Puritan eais. They flocked then from 
 Lambert to Monk, as sinners flock from Baal to God. 
 
 Monk made his calculations, at a thousand ceseitions a day 
 Lambert had men enough to »as* twenty days; but there is in 
 things which sink such a growth of increase and swiftness, 
 which combine with each other, tnat a hundred left the 
 first day, five hundred the second, a thousand the third. 
 Monk thought he had obtained his rate. But from a thou- 
 sand the desertion passed quickly on to two thousand, 
 then to four thousand, and, a week after, Lambert, per- 
 ceiving that he had no longer the possibility of accepting 
 battle, if it were offered to him, took the wise resolution of 
 decamping during the night, to return to London, and be 
 beforehand with Monk in constructing a power with the 
 wreck of the military party. But Monk, free and without 
 inquietude, marched toward London as a conqueror, aug- 
 menting his army from all the floating parties on his pas- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 215 
 
 sage. He encamped at Barnet, that is to say, within four 
 leagues of the capital, cherished by the parliament, which 
 thought it beheld in him a protector, and looked for by the 
 people, who were anxious to see him reveal himself that 
 they might judge him. D'Artagnan himself had not been 
 able to fathom his tactics; he observed — he admired. 
 Monk could not enter London with a settled determination 
 without renouncing civil war. He temporized for a short 
 time. Suddenly, without anybody expecting it, Monk 
 drove the military party out of London, and installed him- 
 self in the city amid the citizens, by order of the parlia- 
 ment; then, at the moment when the citizens were crying 
 out against Monk — at the moment when the soldiers them- 
 selves were accusing their leader — Monk, finding himself 
 certain of a majority, doclared to the Eump that it must 
 abdicate — be dissolved — and yield its place to a government 
 which would not be a joke. Monk pronounced this declara- 
 tion, supported by fifty thousand swords, to which, that 
 same evening, were united, with hurrahs of delirious joy, 
 the five hundred thousand inhabitants of the good city of 
 London. At length, at the moment when the people, after 
 their triumphs and festive repasts in the open streets, were 
 looking about for a master, it was affirmed that a vessel had 
 left the Hague, bearing Charles II. and his fortunes. 
 
 ''Gentlemen," said Monk to his officers, "I am going to 
 meet the legitimate king. He who loves me will follow 
 me." A burst of acclamations welcomed these words, 
 which D'Artagnan did not hear without the greatest delight. 
 
 "Mordioux!" said he to Monk, "that is bold, monsieur." 
 
 "You will accompany me, will you not?" said Monk. 
 
 "Pardien ! general. But tell me, I beg, what you wrote 
 by Athos, that is to say, the Comte de la Fere — you know 
 — the day of our arrival?" 
 
 "I have no secrets from you now," replied Monk. "I 
 wrote these words: 'Sire, I expect your majesty in six 
 weeks at Dover.' " 
 
 "Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "I no longer say it is bold; I 
 say it is well played; it is a fine stroke." 
 
 "You are something of a judge in such matters," replied 
 Monk. 
 
 And this was the only time the general had ever made an 
 allusion to his voyage to Holland. 
 
216 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ATHOS AND D'ARTAGXAX MEET ONCE MORE AT THE HOSTELRY 
 OF THE CORXE DU CERE. 
 
 The King of England made his entree into Dover with 
 great pomp, as he afterward did into London. He had sent 
 for his brothers; he had brought over his mother and sister. 
 England had been for so long a time given up to herself — ■ 
 that is to say, to tyranny, mediocrity and nonsense, that this 
 return of Charles II., whom the English only knew as the 
 son of the man whose head they had cut off, was a festival 
 for the three kingdoms. Consequently, all the vows, all 
 the acclamations, which accompanied his return, struck 
 the young king so forcibly that he stooped toward the ear 
 of James of York, his younger brother, and said, "In truth, 
 James, it appears to have been our own fault that we were 
 so long absent from a country where we are so much be- 
 loved !" The cortege was magnificent. Beautiful weather 
 favored the solemnity. Charles had regained all his youth, 
 all his good-humor ; he appeared to be transfigured ; hearts 
 seemed to smile beneath him like the sun. Among this 
 obstreperous crowd of courtiers and worshippers, who did 
 not appear to remember they had conducted to the scaffold 
 at Whitehall the father of the new king, a man, in the garb 
 of a lieutenant of musketeers, looked, with a smile upon 
 his thin, intellectual lips, some times at the people vocif- 
 erating their benedictions, and sometimes at the prince 
 who pretended emotion, and who bowed most particularly 
 to the women whose bouquets were strewn before his 
 horse's feet. "What a fine trade is that of a king!" said 
 this man, drawn away by his contemplation, and so com- 
 pletely absorbed, that he stopped in the middle of his road, 
 leaving the cortege to file past. "Xow, there is, in good 
 truth, a prince all stitched over with gold and diamonds, 
 enameled with flowers like a spring meadow; he is about 
 to plunge his empty hands into the immense coffer in which 
 his now faithful — but so lately unfaithful — subjects have 
 amassed one or two cartload^, of ingots of gold. They cast 
 bouquets enough upon him to smother him ; and yet, if he 
 had presented himself to them two months ago, they would 
 have sent as many bullets and balls at him as they 
 now throw flowers. Decidedly it is worth something to 
 be born in a certain fashion; with submission to the 
 ilowly, who pretend that it is of very little advantage to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 21? 
 
 them to he horn lowly." The cortege continued to file on, 
 and, with the king, the acclamations began to die away in 
 the direction of the palace, which, however, did not prevent 
 our officer from being shoved about. 
 
 " Mordioux /" continued the reasouer, "these people 
 tread upon my toes and look upon me as of very little con- 
 sequence, or, rather, of none at all, seeing that they are 
 Englishmen and I am a Frenchman. If all these people 
 were asked, 'Who is Monsieur d'Artagnan?' they would 
 reply, 'Nescio vos.' But let any one say to them, 'There is 
 the king going by,' 'There is Monsieur Monk going by/ 
 ithey would run away shouting,' Vive le Roi! Vive Monsieur 
 MonhV till their lungs were exhausted. And yet," con- 
 tinued he, surveying, with that look sometimes so keen 
 and sometimes so proud, the diminishing crowd — "and yet, 
 reflect a little, my good people, on what your king has 
 done, on what Monsieur Monk has done, and then think 
 what has been done by this poor unknown who is called 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan. It is true, you do not know him, 
 since he is here unknown, which prevents your thinking 
 about the matter. But, bah! what matters it? All that 
 does not prevent Charles II. from being a great king, al- 
 I though he has been exiled twelve years, or Monsieur Monk 
 'from being a great captain, although he did make a voyage 
 !to Holland in a box. Well, then, since it is admitted that 
 i one is a great king and the other a great captain: 'Hurrah 
 for King Charles II.! Hurrah for General Monk!' " And 
 ihis voice mingled with the voices of the hundreds of specta- 
 tors, over which it dominated for a moment. Then, the 
 ! better to play the devoted man, he took off his hat and 
 >waved it in the air. Some one seized his arm in the very 
 i height of his expansive loyalism. (In 1660 that was so 
 I termed which we now call royalism.) 
 
 "Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, "you here!" And the two 
 I friends seized each other's hands. 
 
 "You here! — and, being here," continued the musketeer, 
 "you are not in the midst of all those courtiers, my dear 
 comte. What! you, the hero of the fete, you are not 
 prancing on the left hand of the king, as Monsieur Monk is 
 prancing on the right? In truth, I cannot comprehend 
 your character, nor that of the prince who owes you so 
 much!" 
 
 f 'Still a railer! my dear D'Artagnan," said Athos. "Will 
 you never correct yourself of that vile habit?" 
 "But you do not form part of the orteaef" 
 
218 THE riCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "I do not, because I was not willing to do so.*' 
 
 "And why were you not willing?" 
 
 "Because I am neither envoy, nor embassador, nor repre- 
 sentative of the King of France; and it does not become 
 me to exhibit myself thus near the person of another king 
 than the one God has given me for a master." 
 
 "Mordioux ! you came very near to the person of the 
 Jang, his father." 
 
 "That was another thing, my friend; he was about to 
 die." 
 
 "And yet that which you did for him " 
 
 "I did it because it was my duty to do it. But you 
 know I hate all ostentation. Let King Charles II., then, 
 who no longer stands in need of me, leave me to my repose, 
 and in the shade, that is all I claim of him." 
 
 D'Artagnan sighed. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" said Athos. "One 
 would say that this happy return of the king to London 
 saddens you, my friend; you who have done at least as 
 much for his majesty as I have." 
 
 "Have I not," replied D'Artagnan, with his Gascon 
 laugh, "have I not done much for his majesty, without any 
 one suspecting it?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; but the king it well aware of it, my friend," 
 cried Athos. 
 
 "He is aware of it!" said the musketeer bitterly. "By 
 my faith! I did not suspect so, and I was even, a moment 
 ago, trying to forget it myself." 
 
 "But he, my friend, will not forget it, I will answer for 
 him." 
 
 "You tell me that to console me a little, Athos." 
 
 "For what?'-' 
 
 "Mordioux! for the loss of all the expense I have been at. 
 I have ruined myself, my friend, ruined myself for the 
 restoration of this young prince who has just passed, 
 capering upon his isabelle-co\or&i horse." 
 
 "The king does not know yes have ruined yourself, my 
 friend; but he knows he owes you much." 
 
 "And say, Athos, does that advance me in any respect? 
 for to do you justice, you have labored nobly. But I — I, 
 who in appearance marred your combinations, it was I who 
 really macte them succeed. Follow my calculations closely; 
 you might not have, by persuasions or mildness, convinced 
 General Monk, while I have so roughly treated this dear 
 general that I furnished your prince with an opportunity 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 219 
 
 of showing himself generous; this generosity was inspired 
 in him by the fact of my fortunate mistake, and Charles is 
 paid by the restoration which Monk has brought about." 
 
 "All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true," replied 
 Athos. 
 
 "Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, my 
 friend, that I shall return, greatly noticed by Monsieur 
 Monk, who calls me 'dear captain' all day long, although I 
 am neither dear to him nor a captain, and strongly appre- 
 ciated by the king, who has already forgotten my name; it 
 is not less true, I say, that I shall return to my beautiful 
 country, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopes 
 of large pay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of whom I bor- 
 rowed a part of his fortune." 
 
 "How is that? What the devil had Planchet to do in all 
 this?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, my friend; but this king, so spruce, so smiling, so 
 adored, Monsieur Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancy 
 you have supported him, I fancy I have brought him back, the 
 people fancy they have reconquered him, he himself fancies 
 he has negotiated so as to be restored; and yet, nothing of 
 all this is true, for Charles II., King of England, Scotland, 
 and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French 
 grocer, who lives in the Kue des Lombards, and is named 
 Planchet. And such is grandeur! Vanity, says the Scrip- 
 ture, vanity, all is vanity!" 
 
 Athos could not. help laughing at this whimsical outbreak 
 of his friend. 
 
 "My dear D'Artagnan," said he, pressing his hand affec- 
 tionately, "should you not exercise a little more philosophy? 
 Is it not some further satisfaction to you to have saved my 
 life as you did by arriving so fortunately with Monk, when 
 those damned parliamentarians wanted to burn me alive?" 
 
 "Well, but you, in some degree, deserved burning a little, 
 my friend." 
 
 "How so? What, for having saved King Charles' 
 million?" 
 
 "What million?" 
 
 "Ah! that is true; you never knew that, my friend; but 
 you must not be angry, for it was not my secret. That 
 word 'Remember' which the king pronounced upon the 
 scaffold." 
 
 "And which means, souviens-toi /" 
 
 "Exactly. That was signified. "Remember, there is a 
 million buried in the vaults of Newcastle Abbey, and that 
 million belongs to my son,' " 
 
220 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Ah! very well, 1 understand. But what 1 understand 
 likewise, and what is very frightful, is, that every time II is 
 Majesty Charles II. will think of me, he will say to himself: 
 'There is the man who came very near making me lose my 
 crown. Fortunately, I was generous, g.eat, full of pres- 
 ence of mind.' This is what will say the young gentleman 
 in a shabby black pourpoint, who came to the chateau of 
 Blois, hat in hand, to ask me if I would grant him access to 
 the King of France." 
 
 "D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" said Athos, laying hi& 
 hand on the shoulder of the musketeer, "you are unjust." 
 
 "I have a right to be so." 
 
 "No — for you are ignorant of the future." 
 
 D'Artagnan looked his friend full in the face, and began 
 to laugh. "In truth, my dear Athos," said he, "you have 
 some words so superb that they only belong to you and 
 Monsieur le Cardinal Mazarin." 
 
 Athos frowned slightly. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," continued D'Artagnan, laughing. 
 "I beg your pardon, if I have offended you. The future. 
 Nein! what pretty words are words that promise, and how 
 well they fill the mouth in default of other things! Mor- 
 dioux! After having met with so many who promised, 
 when have I found one who performed ? But let that pass!" 
 continued D'Artagnan. "What are you doing here, my 
 dear Athos? Are you king's treasurer?" 
 
 "How — why the king's treasurer?" 
 
 "Well, since the king possesses a million, he must want a 
 treasurer. The King of France, although he is not worth 
 a sou, has still an intendant of finance, Monsieur Fouquet. 
 It is true, that, in exchange, Monsieur Fouquet, they say, 
 has a good number of millions of his own." 
 
 "Oh! our million is spent long ago," said Athos, laugh- 
 ing in his turn. 
 
 "I understand; it was frittered away in satin, precious 
 stones, velvet, and feathers of all sorts and colors. All 
 these princes and princesses stood in great need of tailors 
 and dressmakers. Eh! Athos, do you remember what we 
 fellows expended in equipping ourselves for the campaign 
 of La Kochelle, and to make our appearance on horseback? 
 Two or three thousand livres, by my faith. But a king's 
 robe is more ample; it would require a million to purchase 
 the stuff. At least, Athos, if you are not treasurer, you 
 are on a good footing at court." 
 
 "By the faith of a gentleman, I knpw nothing about it/' 
 said. Athos simply. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONXE. 221 
 
 "What! you know nothing about it?" 
 
 "No; I have not seen the king since we left Dover.'' 
 
 "Then he has forgotten you, too! Mordioux! that is 
 shameful!" 
 
 "His majesty has had so much business to transact." 
 
 "Oh!" cried D'Artagnan, with one of those intelligent 
 grimaces which he alone knew how to make, "that is 
 enough to make me recover my love for Monseigneur Giulio 
 Mazarini. What, Athos! the king has not seen you since?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And you are not furious?" 
 
 "I! why should I be? Do you imagine, my dear D'Ar- 
 tagnan, that it was on the king's account I acted as I have 
 done? I did not know the young man. I defended the 
 father, who represented a principle — sacred in my eyes — 
 and I allowed myself to be drawn toward the son by a sym- 
 pathy for this same principle. Besides, he was a worthy 
 knight, a noble mortal creature, that father. Do you 
 remember him?" 
 
 "Yes; that is true, he was a brave, an excellent man, 
 who led a sad life, but made a fine end." 
 
 "Well, my dear D'Artagnan, understand this: to that 
 king, to that man of heart, to that friend of my thoughts, 
 if I durst venture to say so, I swore, at the last hour, to 
 preserve faithfully the secret of a deposit which was to be 
 transmitted to his son, to assist him at his need. This 
 young man came to me; he described his destitution; he 
 was ignorant that he was anything for me but a lively re- 
 membrance of his father. I have accomplished toward 
 Charles II. what I promised Charles I.; that is all. Of 
 what consequence is it to me, then, whether he be grateful 
 or not? It is to myself I have rendered a service, by reliev- 
 ing myself of this responsibility, and not to him." 
 
 "Well, I have always said," replied D'Artagnan, with a 
 sigh, "that disinterestedness was the finest thing in the 
 world." 
 
 "Well, and you, my friend," resumed Athos, "are you 
 not in the same situation as myself? If I have properly un- 
 derstood your words, you have allowed yourself to be 
 affected by the misfortunes of this young man; that, on 
 your part, was much greater than it was upon mine, for I 
 had a duty to fulfill, while you were under no obligation to 
 the son of the martyr. You had not, on your part, to pay 
 him the price of that precious drop of blood which he let 
 fall upon my brow, through the floor of his scaffold. That 
 
222 THE VICOMfE DE BRAGELONSTE. 
 
 which made you act was heart alone— the noble and good 
 heart which you possess beneath your apparent skepticism 
 and sarcastic irony; you have engaged the fortune of a 
 servant, and your own, I suspect, my benevolent miser, and 
 your sacrifice is not acknowledged. Of what consequence 
 is it? You wish to repay Planchet his money. I can com- 
 prehend that, my friend; for it is not becoming in a gentle- 
 man to borrow of his inferior without returning him princi- 
 pal and interest. Well, I will sell La Fere, if necessary, 
 and if not, some little farm. You shall pay Planchet, and 
 there will be enough, believe me, of corn left in my grana- 
 ries for us two and Kaoul. In this way, my friend, you 
 will owe an obligation to nobody but yourself; and, if I 
 know you well, it will not be a small satisfaction to your 
 mind to be able to say, 'I have made a king!' Am I right?" 
 
 "Athos! Athos!" murmured D'Artagnan thoughtfully, 
 "I have told you more than once that the day on which you 
 shall preach I will attend the sermon; the day on which 
 you shall tell me there is a hell, mordiovx! I shall be afraid 
 of the gridiron and the forks. You are better than I, or, 
 rather, better than anybody, and I only acknowledge the 
 possession of one merit, and that is, of not being jealous. 
 Except that defect, damme, as the English say, if I have 
 not all the rest." 
 
 "I know nobody equal to D'Artagnan," replied Athos; 
 "but here we are, arrived gently at the house I inhabit. 
 Will you come in, my friend?" 
 
 "Eh! why this is the tavern of the Come du Cerf, I 
 think?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I confess I chose it on purpose. I like old acquaint- 
 ances; I like to sit down on that place whereon I sank, 
 overcome by fatigue, overwhelmed with despair, when you 
 returned on the 31st of January." 
 
 "After having discovered the abode of the masked execu- 
 tioner? Yes, that was a terrible day." 
 
 "Come in, then," said Athos, interrupting him. 
 
 They entered the large apartment, formerly the common 
 one. The tavern in general, and this room in particular, 
 had undergone great changes; the ancient host of the mus- 
 keteers having become tolerably rich for an innkeeper, had 
 closed his shop, and made of this room, of which we were 
 speaking, an entrepot for colonial provisions. As for the 
 rest of the house, he let it ready furnished to strangers. It 
 was with unspeakable emotion D'Artagnan recognized all 
 the furniture of the chamber of the first story; the wainscot- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 223 
 
 ing, the tapestries, and even that geographical chart which 
 Porthos had so fondly studied in his moments of leisure. 
 
 "It is eleven years ago," cried D'Artagnan. ll Mordioux! 
 it appears to me a century." 
 
 "And to me but a day," said Athos. "Imagine the joy 
 I experience, my friend, in seeing you there, in pressing 
 your hand, in casting from me sword and poniard, and 
 tasting without mistrust this glass of sherry. Ard, oh! 
 what still further joy it would be if our two friends were 
 there, at the two angles of the tables, and Kaoul, my be- 
 loved Raoul, in the threshold, looking at us with his large 
 eyes, at once so brilliant and so soft." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said D'Artagnan, much affected, "that is 
 true. I approve particularly of the first part of your thought; 
 it is very pleasant to smile there where we have so legit- 
 imately shuddered at thinking that from one moment or 
 another Mordaunt might appear upon the landing." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and D'Artagnan, brave 
 as he was, could not restrain a slight movement of fright. 
 Athos understood him, and smiling: 
 
 "It is our host," said he, "bringing me a letter." 
 
 "Yes, my lord," said the good man; "here is a letter for 
 your honor." 
 
 "Thank yon," said Athos, taking the letter without 
 looking at it. "Tell me, my dear host, if you do not re- 
 member this gentleman?" 
 
 The old man raised his head, and looked attentively at 
 E ' Artagnan. 
 
 "No," said he. 
 
 "It is," said Athos, "one of those friends of whom I have 
 spoken to you, and who lodged here with me eleven years 
 ;ago." 
 
 "Oh, but," said the old man, "so many strangers have 
 I lodged here." 
 
 "But we lodged here on the 30th of January, 1649,''" 
 , added Athos, believing he should stimulate the lazy memory 
 i of the host by this remark. 
 
 "That is very possible," replied he, smiling; "but it is so 
 long ago!" and he bowed, and went out. 
 
 "Thank you," said D'Artagnan; "perform exploits, 
 accomplish revolutions, endeavor to engrave your name in 
 stone or upon brass with strong swords! there is something 
 more rebellious, more hard, more forgetful than iron, brass, 
 or stone, and that is, the brain become old of the letter of 
 lodgings, enriched by his trade; he does not know me. 
 Well, I should have known him. though." 
 
524 THE VICOMTE DK BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Athos, smiling at his friend's philosophy, unsealed his 
 letter. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "a letter from Parry." 
 
 "Oh! oh! said D'Artagnan, "read it, my friend, read it; 
 it no doubt contains news. 
 
 Athos shook his head, and read: 
 
 Monsieur le Comte: The king has experienced much 
 regret at not seeing you to-day, near him, at his entrance. 
 His majesty commands me to say so, and £0 recall him to 
 your memory. His majesty will expect you this evening, 
 at the Palace of St. James, between nine and ten o'clock. 
 
 "I am, with respect, Monsieur le Comte, your honor's 
 very humble and very obedient servant, Parry." 
 
 "You see, my dear D'Artagnan," said Athos, "we must 
 not despair of the hearts of kings." 
 
 "Not despair! you have reason to say so!" replied 
 D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, very dear friend," resumed Athos, whom 
 the almost imperceptible bitterness of D'Artagnan had not 
 escaped. "Pardon me, can I have unintentionally wounded 
 my best comrade?" 
 
 "You are mad, Athos, and to prove it I will conduct you 
 to the palace, to the very gate, I mean; the walk will do me 
 good." 
 
 "You will go in with me, my friend; I will speak to his 
 majesty." 
 
 "No, no!" replied D'Artagnan, with a true pride, free 
 from all mixture; "if there is anything worse than begging 
 yourself, it is making others beg for you. Come, let us 
 go, my friend, the walk will be charming; I will, in pass- 
 ing, show you the house of Monsieur Monk, who has de- 
 tained me with him. A beautiful house, by my faith. 
 Being a general in England is better than being a marechal 
 in France, please to know." 
 
 Athos allowed himself to be led along, made quite sad 
 by D'Artagnan's forced attempts at gayety. The whole 
 city was in a state of joy; the two friends were jostled 
 at every moment by enthusiasts who required them, in 
 their intoxication, to cry out, "Long live good King 
 Charles!" D'Artagnan replied by a grunt, and Athos by a 
 smile. They arrived thus in front of Monk's house, before 
 which, as we have said, they had to pass on their way to St. 
 James'. Athos and D'Artagnan said but little on their 
 
THE VICOMTE BE BRAGELONNE. 225 
 
 route, for the simple reason that they would have had so 
 many things to talk about if they had spoken. Athos 
 thought that by speaking he should evince satisfaction, and 
 that might wound D'Artagnan. The latter feared that in 
 speaking he should allow some little acerbity to steal into 
 his words which would render his company unpleasant to 
 his friend. It was a singular emulation of silence between 
 contentment and ill-humor. D'Artagnan gave way first to 
 that itching at the tip of his tongue which he so habitually 
 experienced. 
 
 "Do you remember, Athos," said he, "the passage of the 
 'Memoires de d'Aubigny,' in which that devoted servant, a 
 Gascon like myself, poor as myself, and, I was going to add, 
 brave as myself, relates instances of the meanness of Henry 
 IV.? My father always told me, I remember, that D'Au- 
 bigny was a liar. But, nevertheless, examine how all the 
 princes* the issue of the great Henry, keep up the character 
 of the race." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Athos, "the kings of France misers? 
 You are mad, my friend." 
 
 "Oh! you are so perfect yourself, you never agree to the 
 faults of'others. But, in reality, Henry IV. was covetous, 
 Louis XIII., his son, was so likewise; we know something 
 of that, don't we? Gascon carried this vice to exaggeration, 
 and has made himself, in this respect, hated by all who sur- 
 round him. Henrietta, poor woman, might Avell be avari- 
 cious, she who did not eat every day, and could not warm 
 herself every winter; and that is an example she has given 
 to her son, Charles II., grandson of the great Henry IV., 
 who is as covetous as his mother and his grandfather. See 
 if I have well traced the genealogy of the misers?" 
 
 "D'Artagnan, my friend," cried Athos, "you are very 
 rude toward that eagle race called the Bourbons." 
 
 "Eh! and I have forgotten the best instance of all — the 
 other grandson of the Bearnais, Louis XIV., my ex-master. 
 Well, I hope he is miserly enough, who would not lend a 
 million to his brother Charles! Good! I see you are be- 
 ginning to be angry. Here we are, by good lack, close to 
 my house, or, rather, to that of my friend, Monsieur Monk." 
 
 "My dear D'Artagnan, you do not make me angry, you 
 make me sad; it is cruel to see a man of your merit out of 
 the position his services ought to have acquired; it appears 
 to me, my dear friend, that your name is as radiant as the 
 greatest names in war and diplomacy. Tell me if the 
 Luyues, the Bellegardes, and the Bassompierces have 
 
226 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKe! 
 
 merited, as we have, fortunes and honors? You are right, 
 my friend, a hundred times right." 
 
 D'Artagnan sighed, and preceding his friend under the 
 porch of the mansion Monk inhabited, at the extremity of 
 the city, "Permit me," said he, "to leave my purse at 
 home; for if in the crowd those clever pickpockets of Lon- 
 don, who are much boasted of, even in Paris, were to steal 
 from me the remainder of my poor crowns, I should not be 
 able to return to France. Now, content, I left France, and 
 wild with joy, I should return to it, seeing that all my 
 prejudices of former days against England are returned 
 accompanied by many others." 
 
 Athos made no reply. 
 
 "So, then, my dear friend, one second, and I will follow 
 you," said D'Artagnan. "I know you are in a hurry to go 
 yonder to receive your reward, but, believe me, I am not 
 less eager to partake of your joy, although at a distance. 
 Wait for me." And D'Artagnan was already passing 
 through the vestibule, when a man, half-servant, half- 
 soldier, who filled in Monk's establishment the double 
 functions of porter and guard, stopped our musketeer, say- 
 ing to him in English: 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my Lord d'Artagnan!" 
 
 "Well," replied the latter, "what is it? Is the general 
 going to dismiss me? I only wanted to be expelled by 
 him." 
 
 These words, spoken in French, made no impression upon 
 the person to whom they were addressed, and who himself 
 only spoke an English mixed with the rudest Scotch. But 
 Athos was grieved at them, for he began to think D'Artag- 
 nan was not wrong. 
 
 The Englishman showed D'Artagnan a letter. "From 
 the general," said he. 
 
 "Ay, that's it, my dismissal!" replied the Gascon. 
 "Must it be read, Athos?" 
 
 "You must be deceived," said Athos, "or I know no 
 more honest people in the world but you and myself." 
 
 D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and unsealed the let- 
 ter, while the impassible Englishman held for him a large 
 lantern, by the light of which he was enabled to read it. 
 
 "Well, what have you?" said Athos, seeing the count*?* 
 nance of the reader change. 
 
 "Read it yourself," said the musketeer. 
 
 Athos took the paper and read: 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 227 
 
 "Monsieur D'Artagnan: The king very much regrets 
 you did not come to St. Paul's with his cortege. You have 
 failed with him as you failed with me, my dear captain. 
 There is but one means of repairing all this. His majesty 
 expects me at nine o'clock at the Palace of St. James; will 
 you be there at the same time with me? His gracious 
 majesty appoints that hour for an audience he grants you." 
 
 This letter was from Monk. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE AUDIENCE. 
 
 "Well?" cried Athos, with a mild look of reproach, 
 when D'Artagnan had read the letter addressed to him by 
 Monk. 
 
 "Well?" said D'Artagnan, red with pleasure, and a little 
 with shame. "To be in such a hurry to accuse the king 
 and Monk was a politeness — which leads to nothing, it is 
 true, but yet it is a politeness." 
 
 "I had great difficulty in believing the young prince un- 
 grateful," said Athos. 
 
 "The fact is, that his present is still too near to his past," 
 replied D'Artagnan; "but, after all, everything to the 
 present moment proves me right." 
 
 "I acknowledge it, my dear friend, I acknowledge it. Ah! 
 there is your cheerful look returned. You cannot think 
 how delighted I am." 
 
 "Thus, you see," said D'Artagnan, "Charles II. receives 
 Monsieur Monk at nine o'clock; me he will receive at ten; 
 it is a grand audience, of the sort which at the Louvre are 
 called 'distributions of holy court water.' Come, let us go 
 and place ourselves under the spout, my dear friend. Come 
 along." 
 
 Athos replied nothing; and both directed their steps, at a 
 quick pace, toward the Palace of St. James, which the 
 crowd still surrounded* to catch, through the windows, the 
 shadows of the courtiers, and the reflection of the royal 
 person. Eight o'clock was striking when the two friends 
 took their places in the gallery filled with courtiers and 
 politicians. Every one gave a glance at these simply 
 dressed men in foreign habits, at these two noble heads so 
 full of character and meaning. On their side, Athos and 
 
228 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 D'Artagnan, having, with two looks, taken the measure of 
 the whole of the assembly, resumed their chat. A great 
 noise was suddenly heard at the extremity of the gallery — 
 it was General Monk who entered, followed by more than 
 twenty officers, all anxious for one of his smiles, for he had 
 been the evening before master of all England, and a 
 glorious morrow was looked for for the restorer of the family 
 of the Stuarts. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Monk, turning round, "henceforward 
 I beg you to remember that I am no longer anything. 
 Lately I commanded the principal army of the republic; 
 now that army is the king's, into whose hands I am about 
 to replace, at his command, my power of yesterday." 
 
 Great surprise was painted on the countenances of all, and 
 the circle of adulators and suppliants which surrounded 
 Monk an instant before, was enlarged by degrees, and 
 finished by being lost in the large undulations of the crowd. 
 Monk was going into the antechamber, as others did. 
 D'Artagnan could not help remarking this to the Comte de 
 la Fere, who frowned on beholding it. Suddenly the door 
 of the royal closet opened, and the young king appeared, 
 preceded by two officers of his household." 
 
 "Good-evening, gentlemen," said he. "Is General Monk 
 here?" 
 
 "I am here, sire," replied the old general. 
 
 Charles stepped hastily toward him, and seized his hand 
 with the warmest demonstration of friendship. "General," 
 said the king aloud, "I have just signed your patent — you 
 are Duke of Albemarle; and my intention is that no one 
 shall equal you in power and fortune in this kingdom, 
 where — the noble Montrose excepted — no one has equaled 
 you in loyalty, courage, and talent. Gentlemen, the duke 
 is commander of our armies, by land and by sea; pay him 
 your respects, if you please, in that character." 
 
 While every one was pressing round the general, who re- 
 ceived all this homage without losing his impassibility for 
 an instant, D'Artagnan said to Athos: 
 
 "When one thinks that this duchy, this command of the 
 land and sea forces, all these grandeurs, in a word, have 
 been shut up in a box six feet long and three feet wide " 
 
 "My friend," replied Athos, "much more imposing gran- 
 deurs are confined to boxes still smaller — and remain there 
 forever." 
 
 All at once Monk perceived the two gentlemen, who held 
 themselves apart until the crowd had diminished; he made 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 229 
 
 himself a passage toward them, so that he surprised them 
 in the midst of their philosophical reflections. 
 
 "Were you speaking of me?" said he, With a smile. 
 
 "My lord," replied Athos, "we were speaking likewise of 
 God." 
 
 Monk reflected for a moment, and then replied gayly: 
 "Gentlemen, let us speak a little of the king likewise, if you 
 please; for you have, I helieve, an audience of his majesty." 
 
 "At nine o'clock," said Athos. 
 
 "At ten o'clock," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Let us go into this closet at once," replied Monk, mak- 
 ing a sign to his two companions to precede him; but to 
 which neither would consent. 
 
 The king, during this so French debate, had returned to 
 the center of the gallery. 
 
 "Oh, my Frenchmen!" said he, in that tone of careless 
 gayety which, in spite of so much grief and so many crosses, 
 he had never lost. "My Frenchmen! my consolation!" 
 Athos and D'Artagnan bowed. 
 
 "Duke, conduct these gentlemen into my study. I am 
 at your service, messieurs," added he in French. And he 
 promptly expedited his court, to return to his Frenchmen, 
 as he called them. "Monsieur d'Artagnan," said he, as he 
 entered his closet, "I am glad to see you again." 
 
 "Sire, my joy is at its height, at having the honor to 
 salute your majesty in your own Palace of St. James." 
 
 "Monsieur, you have been willing to render me a great 
 service, and I owe you my gratitude for it. If I did not 
 fear to intrude upon the rights of our general commandant, 
 I would offer you some post worthy of you near our person." 
 
 "Sire," replied D'Artagnan, "I have quitted the service 
 of the King of France, making my prince a promise not to 
 serve any other king." 
 
 "Humph!" said Charles, "I am sorry to hear that; I 
 should like to do much for you; you please me greatly." 
 
 "Sire " 
 
 "But, let us see," said Charles with a smile, "if we can- 
 not make you break your word. Duke, assist me. If you 
 were offered, that is to say, if I offered you the chief com- 
 mand of my musketeers?" D'Artagnan bowed lower than 
 before. 
 
 "I should have the regret to refuse what your gracious 
 majesty would offer me," said he; "a gentleman has but his 
 word, and that word, a? I have had the honor to tell your 
 majesty, is engaged to the King of France." 
 
230 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOX"E. 
 
 "We will say no more about it, then," said the king turn* 
 ing toward Athos, and leaving D'Artagnan plunged in the 
 deepest pangs of disappointment. 
 
 "Ah ! I said so !" muttered the musketeer. "Words ! 
 words ! Court holy water ! Kings have always a marvelous 
 talent for offering us that which they know we will not 
 accept, and in appearing generous without risk. So be it — 
 triple fool that I was to have hoped for a moment !" 
 
 During this time, Charles took the hand of Athos 
 "Comte," said he, "you have been to me a second fathers 
 the services you have rendered me are above all price. 1 
 have thought of a recompense, notwithstanding. You were 
 created by my father a Knight of the Garter — that is an 
 order which all the kings of Europe cannot bear ; by the queen 
 regent, Knight of the Holy Ghost — which is an order not 
 less illustrious; I join to it that of the Go.den Fleece, which 
 the King of France has sent me, to whom the King of Spain, 
 his father-in-law, gave two on the occasion of his marriage. 
 But, in return, I have a service to ask of you." 
 
 "Sire," said Athos with confusion, "the Golden Fleece for 
 me ! when the King of France is the only person in my coun- 
 try who enjoys that distinction." 
 
 "I wish you to be in your country and elsewhere the equal 
 of all those whom sovereigns have honored with their favor," 
 said Charles, drawing the chain from his neck; "and I am 
 sure my father smiles on me from the depths of his tomb." 
 
 "It is unaccountably strange," said D'Artagnan to him- 
 self, while his friend, on his knees, received the eminent 
 order which the king conferred on him. "It is almost in- 
 credible that I have always seen showers of prosperity fall 
 upon all who surrounded me, and that not a drop ever reached 
 me ! If I were a jealous man, it would be enough to make 
 one tear one's hair, parole d'honneur" 
 
 Athos rose from his knees, and Charles embraced him 
 tenderly. "General !" said he to Monk — "Pardon me, duke, 
 I mean. No wonder if I mistake, the word duke is 
 too short for me; I always seek for some title to elongate 
 it. I should wish to see you so near my throne that I 
 might say to you, as to Louis XIV., 'my brother !' Oh ! 
 I have it; and you will be almost my brother, for I make 
 you Viceroy of Ireland and Scotland, my dear duke. So, 
 after that fashion, henceforward I shall not make a mistake." 
 
 The duke seized the hand of the king, but without 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 231 
 
 enthusiasm, without joy, as he did everything. His heart, 
 however, had been moved by this last favor. Charles, by 
 skillfully husbanding his generosity, had left the duke time 
 to wish, although he might not have wished for so much as 
 was given him. 
 
 "jMordiouz!" grumbled D'Artagnan, "there is the 
 shower beginning again! Oh! it is enough to turn one's 
 brain!" and he turned away with an air so sorrowful and 
 so comically piteous, that the king, who caught it could 
 not restrain a smile. Monk was preparing to leave the closet 
 to take leave of Charles. 
 
 "What! my trusty and well-beloved," said the king to 
 the duke, "are you going?" 
 
 "If it please your majesty, for in truth I am tired. The 
 emotions of the day have worn me out; I stand in need of 
 repose." 
 
 "But," said the king, "you are not going without Mon- 
 sieur d'Artagnan, I hope." 
 
 "Why not, sire?" said the old warrior. 
 
 "Well! you know very well why," said the king. 
 
 Monk looked at Charles with astonishment. 
 
 "Oh! it may be possible; but if you forget, you, Mon- 
 sieur d'Artagnan, do not." 
 
 Astonishment was painted on the face of the musketeer. 
 
 "Well, then, duke," said the king, "do you not lodge 
 with Monsieur d'Artagnan?" 
 
 "I have the honor to offer Monsieur d'Artagnan a lodg- 
 ing; yes, sire." 
 
 "That idea is your own, and yours solely?" 
 
 "Mine and mine only, yes, sire." 
 
 "Well! but it could not be otherwise — the prisoner is 
 always at the home of his conqueror." 
 
 Monk colored in his turn. "Ah! that is true," said he; 
 "I am Monsieur d'Artagnan'r prisoner." 
 
 "Without doubt, duke, since you are not yet ransomed; 
 but take no heed of that; it was I who took you out of 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan's hands, and it is I who will pay your 
 ransom." 
 
 The eyes of D'Artagnan regained their gayety and their 
 brilliancy. The Gascon began to comprehend. Charles 
 advanced toward him. 
 
 "The general," said he, "is not rich, and cannot pay you 
 what he is worth. I am richer, certainly; but now that he 
 is a d ke, and if not a king, almost a king, he is worth a 
 snm I could not perhaps pay. Come, Monsieur d'Artag- 
 pan, be moderate with me*. how mnoh d.p. I owe you?" 
 
C32 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGEI.ONNE. 
 
 D'Artagnan, delighted at the turn things were taking, 
 but not for a moment .osing his self-possession, replied: 
 "Sire, your majesty has no occasion to be alarmed. When 
 I had the good fortune tc take his grace, Monsieur Monk 
 was only a general; it Is therefore only a general's ransom 
 that is due to me. But if the general will have the kind- 
 ness to deliver me his rword, I shall consider myself paid; 
 for there is nothing in tl e world but the general's sword 
 whish is worth so muc 11 as himself." 
 
 "Odds fish! as my lather said,"' cri d Charles. "That is 
 a gallant proposal, and a gallant man, is he not, duke?" 
 
 "Upon my honor, yes, sire," and he drew his sword. 
 "Monsieur," said he to D'Artagnan, "here is what you 
 demand. Many may h ve ' andled a better blade; but how- 
 ever modest mine may be, I have never surrendered it to 
 any one." 
 
 D'Artagnan received with pride the sword which had just 
 made a king. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" cried Charles II.; "what! a sword that has 
 restored me to my throne — to go out of the kingdom — and 
 not, one day, to figure among the crown jewels! No, on 
 my soul! that shall not be! Captain d'Artagnan, I will 
 give you two hundred thousand livres for your sword! if 
 f ,hat is too little, say so." 
 
 "It is too little, sire," replied D'Artagnan, with inimita- 
 ble seriousness. "In the first place, I do not at all wish to 
 sell it; but your majesty desires me to do so, and that is an 
 order. I obey, then; but the respect I owe to the illustrious 
 warrior who hears me, commands me to estimate at a third 
 more the reward of my victory. I ask three hundred thou- 
 sand livres for the sword, or I will give it to your majesty 
 for nothing." And taking it by the point, he presented it 
 to the king. Charles broke into hilarious laughter. 
 
 "A gallant man, and a joyous companion! Odds fish! is 
 he not, duke? is he not, comte? He pleases me! I like 
 him! Here, Chevalier d'Artagnan, take this." And going 
 to the table he took a pen and wrote an order upon his 
 treasurer for three hundred thousand livres. 
 
 D'Artagnan took it, and turning gravely toward Monk: 
 "I have still asked too little, I know," said he; "but be- 
 lieve me, Monsieur le Due, I would rather have died than 
 allow myself to be governed by avarice." 
 
 The king began to laugh again, like the happiest cockney 
 of his kingdom. 
 
 "You will come and see me again before you go, cheva- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 233 
 
 iier?" said he; "I shall want to lay in a stock of gayety 
 now my Frenchmen are leaving me." 
 
 "Ah! sire, it shall not be with the gayety as with the 
 dnke's sword; I will give it to your majesty gratis," replied 
 D'Artagnan, whose feet scarcely seemed to touch the 
 ground. 
 
 "And you, comte," added Charles turning toward Athos, 
 "come again, also; I have an important message to confide 
 to you. Your hand, duke." Monk pressed the hand of 
 the king. 
 
 "Adieu! gentlemen," said Charles holding out each of 
 his hands to the two Frenchmen, who carried them to theii 
 lips. 
 
 "Well," said Athos, when they were out of the palace, 
 "are you satisfied?" 
 
 "Hush!" said D'Artagnan, wild with joy, "I am not yet 
 returned from the treasurer's — the spout may fall upon mj 
 head." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 OF THE EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES. 
 
 D'Artagnan lost no time, and as soon as the thing was 
 suitable and opportune he paid a visit to the lord-treasurer 
 of his majesty. He had then the satisfaction to exchange 
 a piece of paper, covered with very ugly writing, for a pro- 
 digious number of crowns, recently stamped with the 
 effigies of his very gracious majesty Charles II. D'Artag- 
 nan easily recovered his self-possession; and yet, upon this 
 occasion, he could not help evincing a joy which the reader 
 will perhaps comprehend, if he deigns to have some indul- 
 gence for a man who, since his birth, had never seen so 
 many pieces and rouleaus of pieces juxta-placed in an order 
 truly agreeable to the eye. The treasurer placed all the 
 rouleaus in bags, and closed each bag with a stamp of the 
 arms of England, a favor which treasurers do not accord to 
 everybody. Then, impassible, and just as polite as he 
 ought to be toward a man honored with the friendship of 
 the king, he said to D'Artagnan: 
 
 "Take away your money, sir." Your money] These 
 words made a thousand chords vibrate in the heart of D'Ar- 
 tagnan which he had never felt before. He had the bags 
 packed in a small cart, and returned home meditating pro- 
 
234 THE VICOMTB DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 foundly. A man who possesses three hundred thousand 
 livres can no longer expect to wear a smootli brow; a 
 wrinkle for every hundred thousand livres is not too much. 
 D'Artagnan shut himself up, eat no dinner, closed his door 
 against everybody, and, with a lighted lamp and a loaded, 
 pistol on the table, he watched all night, ruminating upon 
 the means of preventing these lovely crowns, which from 
 the coffers of the king had passed into his coffers, from 
 passing from his coffers into the pockets of any thief what- 
 ever. The best means discovered by the Gascon was t© 
 inclose his treasure, for the present, under locks so solid 
 that no wrist could break them, and so complicated that no 
 master-key could open them. D'Artagnan remembered 
 that the English are past-masters in mechanics and conserv- 
 ative industry; and he determined to go in the morning in 
 search of a mechanic who would sell him a strong box. He 
 did not go far. The Sieur Will Jobson, dwelling in Picca- 
 dilly, listened to his propositions, comprehended his wishes, 
 and promised to make him a safety lock that should relieve 
 him from all future fear. 
 
 "I will give you," said he, "a piece of mechanism entirely 
 new. At the first serious attempt upon your lock, an in- 
 visible plate will open of itself and vomit forth a pretty 
 copper bullet of the weight of a mark, which will knock 
 down the intruder, and not without a loud report. What 
 do you think of it?" 
 
 "I think it very ingenious," cried D'Artagnan; "the 
 little copper bullet pleases me mightily. So now, Monsieur 
 the Mechanic, the terms?" 
 
 "A fortnight for the execution, and fifteen hundred 
 il/*es, payable on delivery," replied the artisan. 
 
 D'Artagnairs brow darkened. A fortnight was delay 
 enough to allow the thieves of London time to remove all 
 occasion for the strong box. As to the fifteen hundred 
 livres — that would be paying too dear for what a little vigi- 
 lance would procure him for nothing. 
 
 "I will think of it," said he; "thank you, monsieur." 
 And he returned home at full speed. Nobody had yet 
 touched his treasure. That same day Athos paid his friend 
 a visit, and found him so thoughtful that he could not help 
 expressing his surprise. 
 
 "How is this?" said he, "you are rich and not gay — you, 
 who were so anxious for wealth!" 
 
 "My friend, the pleasures to which we are not accu? 
 tomed oppress us more than the grief we are familiar with 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 235 
 
 (rive me your opinion, if yon please. I can ask you, who 
 have always had money: when we have money, what do we 
 do with it?" 
 
 "That depends." 
 
 "What have you done with yours, seeing that it has not 
 made you a miser or a prodigal? For avarice dries up the 
 heart, and prodigality drowns it — is not that so?" 
 
 "Fabricius could not have spoken more justly. But, in 
 truth, my money has never been a burden to me," 
 
 "How so? Do you place it out at interest?" 
 
 "No; you know I have a tolerably handsome house, and 
 that house composes the better part of my property." 
 
 "I know it does." 
 
 "So that you can be as rich as I am, and, indeed, more* 
 rich, whenever you like, by the same means." 
 
 "But your rents, do you lay them by?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What do you think of a chest concealed in a wall?" 
 
 "I never made use of such a thing." 
 
 "Then you must have some confidant, some safe man of 
 business, who pays you interest at a fair rate." 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "Good heavens! what do you do with it, then?" 
 
 "I spend all I have, and I only have what I spend, my 
 dear D'Artagnan." 
 
 "Ah! that may be. But you are something of a prince; 
 fifteen or sixteen thousand livres melt away between your 
 fingers; and then you have expenses and appearances " 
 
 "Well, I don't see why you should be less of a noble than 
 I am, my friend; your money would be quite sufficient." 
 
 "Three hundred thousand livres! Two-thirds too much!" 
 
 "I beg your pardon — did you not tell me — I thought I 
 heard you say — I fancied you had a partner " 
 
 "Ah! mordioitx! that's true," cried D'Artagnan, color- 
 ing, "there is Planchet. I had forgotten Planchet, upon 
 my life! Well! there are my hundred thousand crowns 
 broken into. That's a pity! it was a round sum, and 
 sounded well. That is true, Athos; I am no longer rich. 
 What a memory you have!" 
 
 "Tolerably good; yes, thank God!" 
 
 ''Bravo, Planchet!" grumbled D'Artagnan; "he has not 
 nad a bad dream! What a speculation! Peste! Well, 
 what is said is said!" 
 
 "How much are you to give him?" 
 'Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "he is not a bad fellow; I shall 
 
236 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 arrange matters with him. I have had a great deal ot 
 trouble, you see, and expenses, all that must be taken into 
 account." 
 
 "My dear friend, I can depend upon you, and have no 
 fear for the worthy Planchet; his interests are better in 
 your hands than in his own. But now that you have noth- 
 ing more to do here, we will be gone, if you please. You 
 can go and thank his majesty, ask if he has any commands, 
 and in six days we may be able to get sight of the towers of 
 Notre Dame." 
 
 "My friend, I am most^anxious to be off, and will go ac 
 once and pay my respects to the king." 
 
 "I," said Athos, "am going to call upon some friends in 
 the city, and shall be then at your service." 
 
 "Will you lend me Grimaud?" 
 
 "With all my heart. What do you want to do with him?" 
 
 "Something very simple, and which will not fatigue him; 
 I will only beg him to take charge of my pistols, which lie 
 there on the table near that coffer." 
 
 "Very well!" replied Athos imperturbably. 
 
 "And he will not stir, will he?" 
 
 "Not more than the pistols themselves." 
 
 "Then I will go and take leave of his majesty. Au 
 re voir /" 
 
 D'Artagnan arrived at St. James', where Charles II., 
 who was busy writing, kept him in the antechamber a full 
 hour. While walking about in the gallery, from the door 
 to the window, from the window to the door, he thought 
 he saw a cloak like Athos' cross the vestibule; but at the 
 moment he was going to ascertain if it were he, the usher 
 summoned him to his majesty's presence. Charles II. 
 rubbed his hands at receiving the thanks of our friend. 
 
 "Chevalier," said he, "you are wrong in expressing grati- 
 tude to me; I have not paid you a quarter of the value of 
 the history of the box into which you put the brave general 
 — the excellent Duke of Albemarle, I mean." And the 
 king laughed heartily. 
 
 D'Artagnan did not think it proper to interrupt his 
 majesty, and bowed with much modesty. 
 
 "Apropos," continued Charles, "do you think my dear 
 Monk has really pardoned you?" 
 
 "Pardoned me! yes, I hope so, sire!" 
 
 "Eh! but it was a cruel trick! Odds fish! to pack up the 
 first personage of the English revolution like a herring. In 
 your place, I would not trust him, chevalier." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BTtAGELOHNE. 237 
 
 "But, sire " 
 
 "Yes, I know very well that Monk calls you his friend. 
 But he has too penetrating an eye not to have a memory, 
 and too lofty a brow not to be very proud, you know, 
 grande supercilium." 
 
 "I certainly will learn Latin," said D'Artagnan to him- 
 self. 
 
 "But stop," cried the merry monarch; "I must manage 
 your reconciliation; I know how to set about it; so " 
 
 D'Artagnan bit his mustache. "Will your majesty per- 
 mit me to tell you the truth?" 
 
 "Speak, chevalier, speak." 
 
 "Well, sire, you alarm me greatly. If your majesty un- 
 dertakes the affair, as you seem inclined to do, I am a lost 
 man; the duke will have me assassinated." 
 
 The king burst forth into a fresh roar of laughter, which 
 changed D'Artagnan's alarm into downright terror. 
 
 "Sire, I beg you to allow me to settle this matter myself, 
 and if your majesty has no further need of my services " 
 
 "No, chevalier. What, do you want to leave us?" re- 
 plied Charles, with a hilarity that grew more and more 
 alarming. 
 
 "If your majesty has no more commands for me." 
 
 Charles became more serious. 
 
 "One single thing. See my sister, the Lady Henrietta. 
 Do you know her?" 
 
 "No, sire, but — an old soldier like me is not an agreeable 
 spectacle for a young and gay princess." 
 
 "Ah! but my sister must know you; she must, at her 
 need, have you to depend upon." 
 
 "Sire, every one that is dear to your majesty will be 
 sacred to me." 
 
 "Very well! Parry! Come here, Parry!" 
 
 The lateral door opened, and Parry entered, his face 
 beaming with pleasure as soon as he saw D'Artagnan. 
 
 "What is Rochester doing?" said the king. 
 
 "He is upon the canal with the ladies," replied Parry. 
 
 "And Buckingham?" 
 
 "He is there also." 
 
 "Thatis well. You will conduct the chevalier to Villiers; 
 that is, the Duke of Buckingham, chevalier; and beg the 
 duke to introduce Monsieur d'Artagnan to the Princess 
 Henrietta." 
 
 Parry bowed, and smiled to D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Chevalier," continued the king, "this is your parting 
 audience: vou can afterward set out as soon as you please." 
 
238 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Sire, I thank you." 
 
 "But be sure you make your peace with Monk!" 
 
 "Oh, sire " 
 
 "You know there is one of my vessels at your disposal?" 
 
 "Sire, you overpower me. I cannot think of putting 
 your majesty's officers to inconvenience on my account." 
 
 The king slapped D'Artagnan upon the shoulder. 
 
 "Nobody will be inconvenienced on your account, cheva- 
 lier, but for that of an embassador I am about sending to 
 France, and to whom you will serve willingly as a coinpan 
 ion, I fancy, for you know him." 
 
 D'Artagnan appeared astonished. 
 
 "He is a certain Comte de la Fere — he you call Athos/ ; 
 added the king, terminating the conversation, as he had 
 begun it, by a joyous burst of laughter. "Adieu, chevalier, 
 adieu. Love me as I love you." And thereupon, making 
 a sign to Parry to ask if there were any one waiting for him 
 in the adjoining closet, the king disappeared into that 
 closet, leaving the place to the chevalier, perfectly aston- 
 ished with this singular audience. The old man took his 
 arm in a friendly way, and led him toward the garden. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 UPON THE CANAL. 
 
 Upon the canal of waters of an opaque green, bordered 
 with marble, upon which time had already scattered black 
 spots and tufts of mossy grass, there glided majestically 
 a long flat bark, pavoisee with the arms of England, sur- 
 mounted by a dais, and carpeted with long damasked stuffs, 
 which trailed their fringes in the water. Eight rowers, 
 leaning lazily to their oars, made it move upon the canal 
 with the graceful slowness of the swans, which, disturbed 
 in their ancient possessions by the approach of the bark, 
 looked from a distance at this splendid and noisy pageant. 
 We say noisy — for the bark contained four players upon the 
 guitar and the lute, two singers, and several courtiers, all 
 sparkling with gold and precious stones, and showing their 
 white teeth in emulation of each other, to please the lady 
 Henrietta Stuart, granddaughter of Henry IV., daughter 
 of Charles I., and sister of Charles II., who occupied the 
 seat of honor under the dais of the bark. We know this 
 young princess; we have <^en her at the Louvre with her 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 239 
 
 mother, wanting wood, wanting bread, and fed by the 
 coadjuteur and the parliament. She had, therefore, like 
 her brothers, passed through a troublous youth; then, all 
 at once, she had just awakened from a long and horrible 
 dream, seated on the steps of a throne, surrounded, by 
 courtiers and flatterers. Like Mary Stuart, on leaving 
 prison, she aspired not only for life and liberty, but for 
 power and wealth. 
 
 The Lady Henrietta, in growing, had attained remarka- 
 ble beauty, which the recent restoration had. rendered cele- 
 brated. Misfortune had taken from her the luster of pride, 
 but prosperity had restored it to her. She was resplendent, 
 then, in her joy and her happiness, like those hot-house 
 flowers which, forgotten during a night of .the first frosts of 
 autumn, have hung their heads, but which on the morrow, 
 warmed once more by the atmosphere in which they were 
 born, rise again with greater splendor than ever. Villiers, 
 Duke of Buckingham, son of him who played so conspicuous 
 a part in the early part of this history, Villiers of Bucking- 
 ham, a handsome cavalier, melancholy with women, a jester 
 with men, and Wilmot, Lord Rochester, a jester with both 
 ;sexes, were standing at this moment before the Lady Hen- 
 rietta, disputing the privilege of making her smile. As to 
 that young and beautiful princess, reclining upon a cushion 
 of velvet bordered with gold, her hands hanging listlessly 
 so as to dip in the water, she listened carelessly to the 
 i musicians without hearing them, and heard the two 
 courtiers without appearing to listen to them. This 
 ILady Henrietta — this charming creature — this woman who 
 joined the graces of France to the beauties of England, 
 not having yet loved, was cruel in her coquetry. The smile, 
 then, that innocent favor of young girls, did not even 
 enlighten her countenance; and if, at times, she did raise 
 iher eyes, it was to fasten them upon one or other of the 
 cavaliers with such a fixity that their gallantry, bold as it 
 generally was, took the alarm, and became timid. 
 
 In the meantime, the boat continued its course, the musi- 
 cians made a great noise, and the courtiers began, like them, 
 to be out of breath. Besides, the excursion became doubt- 
 less monotonous to the princess, for all at once, shaking her 
 head with an air of impatience: "Come, gentlemen, enough 
 of this; let us land." 
 
 "Ah, madame!" said Buckingham, "we are very unfor- 
 tunate! We have not succeeded in making the excursion 
 tgreeable to your royal highness." 
 
HO THE VICOMTE BE ERAGELONNE 
 
 "My mother expects me," replied the princess; "and • 
 must frankly admit, gentlemen, I am ennuyee." And 
 jvhile uttering this cruel word, Henrietta endeavored to 
 console by a look each of the young men, who appeared 
 ierrified at such frankness. The look produced its effect — 
 the two faces brightened; but immediately, as if the royal 
 coquette thought she had done too much for simple mortals, 
 she made a movement, turned her back to both her adorers. 
 and appeared plunged in a reverie in which it was evident 
 they had no part. 
 
 Buckingham bit his lips with anger, for he was truly in 
 love with the Lady Henrietta, and, in that case, took every- 
 thing in a serious light. Rochester bit his lips likewise; 
 but his wit always dominated over his heart; it was purely 
 and simply to repress a malicious smile. The princess was 
 then allowing the eyes she turned from the young nobles to 
 wander over the green and flowery turf of the park, when 
 she perceived Parry and D'Artagnan at a distance. 
 
 "Who is coming yonder?" said she. 
 
 The two young men turned round with the rapidity of 
 lightning. 
 
 "Parry," replied Buckingham; "nobody but Parry." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Rochester, "but I think he 
 has a companion." 
 
 "Yes," said the princess, at first with languor, but then: 
 
 "What mean those words, 'Nobody but Parry;' say, my 
 lord?" 
 
 "Because, madame," replied Buckingham, piqued, "be- 
 cause the faithful Parry, the wandering Parry, the eternal 
 Parry, is not, I believe, of much consequence." 
 
 "You are mistaken, duke. Parry — the wandering Parry, 
 as you call him — has always wandered for the service of my 
 family, and the sight of that old man always gives me satis- 
 faction." 
 
 The Lady Henrietta followed the usual progress of pretty 
 women, particularly coquettish women; she passed from 
 caprice to contradiction; the gallant had undergone the 
 caprice, the courtier must bend beneath the contradictory 
 humor. Buckingham bowed, but made no reply. 
 
 "It is true, madame," said Rochester, bowing in his turn, 
 "that Parry is the model of servants; but, madame, he is no 
 longer young, and we only laugh at seeing cheerful objects. 
 Is an old man a gay object?" 
 
 "Enough, my lord," said the princess coolly; "the sub 
 ject of conversation is unpleasant to me." 
 
THE VICOJITE DE BRAGELOSTNE. 241 
 
 Then, as if speaking to herself, "It is really unaccounta- 
 ble," said she, "how little regard my brother's friends have 
 for his servants." 
 
 "Ah, madame," cried Buckingham, "your royal highness 
 pierces my heart with a poniard forged by your own hands." 
 
 "What is the meaning of that speech, which is turned 
 so like a French madrigal, duke? I do not understand it." 
 
 "It means, madame, that you yourself, so good, so charm- 
 ing, so sensible, you have laughed sometimes — smiled, I 
 should say — at the idle prattle of that good Parry, for whom 
 your royal highness to-day entertains such a marvelous 
 susceptibility." 
 
 "Well, my lord, if I have forgotten myself so far," said 
 Henrietta, "you do wrong to remind me of it." And she 
 made a sign of impatience. "The good Parry wants to 
 speak to me, I believe; please order them to row to the 
 shore, my Lord Rochester." 
 
 Rochester hastened to repeat the princess' command; 
 and a moment after the boat touched the bank. 
 
 "Let us land, gentlemen," said Henrietta, taking the 
 arm which Rochester offered her, although Buckingham was 
 nearer to her and had presented his. Then Rochester, with 
 an ill-dissembled pride, which pierced the heart of the un- 
 happy Buckingham through and through, led the princess 
 across the little bridge which the rowers had cast from the 
 royal boat to the shore. 
 
 "Which way will your royal highness go?" asked 
 Rochester. 
 
 "You see, my lord, toward that good Parry, who is wan- 
 dering, as my Lord of Buckingham says, and seeking me with 
 eyes weakened by the tears he has shed over our misfor- 
 tunes." 
 
 "Good heavens!" said Rochester, "how sad your royal 
 ! highness is to-day; we have, in truth, the air of appearing 
 ridiculous fools to you, madame." 
 
 "Speak for yourself, my lord," interrupted Buckingham, 
 • with vexation; "for my part, I displease her royal highness 
 to such a degree that I appear absolutely nothing to her." 
 
 Neither Rochester nor the princess made any reply. Hen- 
 rietta only urged her cavalier to a quicker pace. Bucking- 
 ham remained behind, and took advantage of this isolation 
 to give himself up to such rage, in his handkerchief, that 
 1 the cambric was bitten in holes. 
 
 "Parry, my good Parry," said the princess, with her 
 
242 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 weak voice, "come hither. I see you are seeking for me 
 and I am waiting for you." 
 
 "Ah, madame," said Rochester, coming charitably to the 
 succor of his companion, remaining, as we have said, be 
 hind, "if Parry cannot see your royal highness, the man 
 who follows him is a sufficient guide, even for a blind man, 
 for he has eyes of flame. That man is a double-lamped 
 lantern." 
 
 "Lighting a very handsome martial countenance," said 
 the princess, determined to be as ill-natured as possible. 
 Rochester bowed. "One of those vigorous soldier's heads 
 seen nowhere but in France," added the princess, with ths 
 perseverance of a woman sure of impunity. 
 
 Rochester and Buckingham looked at each other, as 
 much as to say, "What can be the matter with her?" 
 
 "See, my Lord of Buckingham, what Parrv wants," said 
 Henrietta— "go!" 
 
 The young man, who considered this order as a favor, 
 resumed his courage, and hastened to meet Parry, who, 
 followed by D'Artagnan, advanced slowly on account of his 
 age. D'Artagnan walked slowly but nobly, as D'Artagnan, 
 doubled by the third of a million, ought to walk, that is to 
 say, without conceit or swagger, but without timidity. 
 When Buckingham, who had been very eager to comply 
 with the desire of the princess, had stopped at a marble 
 bench, as if fatigued with the few steps he had gone — when 
 Buckingham, we say, was at a distance of only a few paces 
 from Parry, the latter recognized him. 
 
 "Ah, my lord!" cried he, quite out of breath, "will your 
 grace obey the king?" 
 
 "In what, Monsieur Parry?" said the young man, with a 
 kind of coolness tempered by a desire of making himself 
 agreeable to the princess. 
 
 "Well, his majesty begs your grace to present this gentle- 
 man to her Royal Highness the Princess Henrietta." 
 
 "In the first place, what is the gentleman's name?" said 
 the duke haughtily. 
 
 D'Artagnan, as we know, was easily affronted; the tone 
 of the Duke of Buckingham displeased him. He surveyed 
 the courtier from head to foot, and two flashes beamed from 
 heneath his bent brows. But after a struggle, "Monsieur 
 lc Chevalier d'Artagnan, my lord," replied he quietly. 
 
 "Pardon me, monsieur; that name teaches me your name, 
 but nothing more." 
 
 "That is'to say " 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 243 
 
 "That is to say, I do not know you." 
 
 "I am more fortunate than you, monsieur," replied 
 D'Artagnan, "'for I have had the honor of knowing much 
 of your family, and particularly my Lord Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, your illustrious father." 
 
 "My father?" said Buckingham. "Well, I think now .'. 
 remember. Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan, do you, 
 say?" 
 
 D'Artagnan bowed. "In person," said he. 
 
 "Pardon me; but are you one of those Frenchmen who 
 had secret relations with my father?" 
 
 "Exactly, Monsieur the Duke, I am one of those French 
 men." 
 
 "Then, monsieur, permit me to say that it was strange 
 my father never heard of you during his lifetime." 
 
 "No, monsieur; but he heard of me at the moment of his 
 death. It was I who sent to him, by the hands of the valet 
 ■ de chambre of Anne of Austria, notice of the dangers which 
 threatened him; unfortunately, it came too late." 
 
 "Never mind, monsieur," said Buckingham. "I under- 
 stand now, that, having had the intention of rendering 
 i a service to the father, you are come to claim the protec- 
 tion of the son." 
 
 "In the first place, my lord," replied D'Artagnan phleg- 
 matically, "I claim the protection of no man. His Majesty 
 Charles II., to whom I have had the honor of rendering 
 some services — I may tell you, my lord, my life has been 
 passed in such occupations — King Charles II., then, who 
 wishes to honor me with some kindness, has desired I shall 
 be presented to her Eoyal Highness the Princess Henrietta 
 his sister, to whom I shall, perhaps, have the good fortuns 
 to be of service hereafter. Now, the king knew that you ; 
 at this moment, were with her royal highness, and has senj 
 me to you, by the intermission of Parry. There is no other 
 mystery. I ask absolutely nothing of you; and if you will 
 not present me to her royal highness, I shall be compelled 
 to do without you, and present myself." 
 
 "At least, monsieur," said Buckingham, determined to 
 have the last word, "you will not go back from an explana- 
 tion provoked by yourself." 
 
 "I never go back, monsieur," said D'Artagnan. "As 
 you have had relations with my father, you must be ac- 
 quainted with some private details?" 
 
 '"These relations are already far removed from us, my 
 iord — for you were not then born — and for some unfor- 
 
244 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 tunate diamond studs, which I received from his hands and 
 carried back to France, it is really not worth while awaken- 
 ing so many remembrances." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur!" said Buckingham warmly, going up to 
 D'Artagnau, and holding out his hand to him, "it is you, 
 then — you whom my father fought for so earnestly, and 
 who had a right to expect so much from us?" 
 
 "To expect, monsieur; in truth, that is my forte ; all my 
 /life I have expected." 
 
 ', At this moment, the princess, who was tired of not see- 
 ing the stranger approach her, arose and came toward them 
 
 "At least, monsieur," said Buckingham, "you shall not 
 wait for the presentation you claim of me." 
 
 Then turning toward the princess and bowing: "Ma- 
 dame," said the young man, "the king, your brother, de- 
 sires me to have the honor of presenting to your royal high- 
 ness, Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan." 
 
 "In order that your royal highness may have, at your 
 need, a firm support and a sure friend," added Parry. 
 D'Artagnan bowed. 
 
 "You have still something to say, Parry," replied Henri- 
 etta, smiling upon D'Artagnan, while addressing the old 
 servant. 
 
 "Yes, madame; the king desires you to preserve relig- 
 iously in your memory the name, and to remember the 
 merit of Monsieur d'Artagnan, to whom his majesty owes, 
 he says, the recovery of his kingdom." Buckingham, the 
 princess, and Rochester looked at one another. 
 
 "That," said D'Artagnan, "is another little secret, of 
 which, in all probability, I shall not boast to his majesty's 
 son, as I have done to you with respect to the diamond 
 studs." 
 
 "Madame," said Buckingham, "monsieur has just, for 
 the second time, recalled to my memory an event which 
 excites my curiosity to such a degree that I will venture 
 to ask your permission to take him on one side for a mo- 
 ment, to converse in private." 
 
 "Do, my lord," said the princess; "but restore to the 
 sister, as quickly as possible, this friend so devoted to the 
 brother." And she took the arm of Rochester, while 
 Buckingham took that of D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Oh! tell me, chevalier," said Buckingham, "all that affair 
 of the diamonds, which nobody knows in England, not 
 even the son of him who was the hero of it." 
 
 'My lord, one person alone had a right to relate all 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNB, 245 
 
 that affair, as yon call it, and that was your father; he 
 thought proper to be silent. I must beg you to allow me 
 to be so likewise." And D'Artagnan bowed like a man 
 upon whom it was evident no entreaties could prevail. 
 
 "Since it is so, monsieur," said Buckingham, "pardon 
 my indiscretion, I beg you; and if, at any time, I should 
 go into France — •" and he turned round to take a last look 
 at the princess, who took but little notice of him, totally 
 occupied as she was, or appeared to be, with Rochester. 
 Buckingham sighed. 
 
 "Well?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I was saying that if, any day, I were to go into 
 France " 
 
 "You will go, my lord," said D'Artagnan; "I will answer 
 for that." 
 
 "And how so?" 
 
 "Oh, I have strange powers of prediction; if I do predict 
 anything I am seldom mistaken. If, then, you do come to 
 France?" 
 
 "Well, then, monsieur, you, of whom kings ask that 
 valuable friendship which restores crowns to them, I will 
 venture to beg of you a little of that great interest you 
 avowed for my father." 
 
 "My lord,'' replied D'Artagnan, "believe me, I shall 
 deem myself highly honored if, in France, you remember 
 having seen me here. And now permit " 
 
 Then, turning toward the princess: "Madame," said he, 
 "your royal highness is a daughter of France; and in that 
 quality I hope to see you again in Paris. One of my happy 
 days will be that on which your royal highness shall give 
 me any command whatever which will assure me that you 
 have not forgotten the recommendations of your august 
 'brother." And he bowed respectfully to the young prin- 
 cess, who gave him her hand to kiss with a right royal 
 grace. 
 
 "Ah, madame!" said Buckingham, in a subdued voice, 
 "what can a man do to obtain a similar favor from your 
 royal highness?" 
 
 "Dame! my lord," replied Henrietta, "ask Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan; he will tell you." 
 
246 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 HOW d'artagnan drew, as a fairy would have donr 
 
 A COUNTRY SEAT FROM A DEAL BOX. 
 
 The king's words regarding the wounded pride of Monk 
 had not inspired D'Artagnan with a small portion of appre- 
 hension. The lieutenant had had, all his life the great art 
 of choosing his enemies; aud when he had found them im- 
 placable and invincible, it was when he had not been able, 
 under any pretense, to make them otherwise. But points 
 of view change greatly in the course of a life. It is a magic 
 lantern, of which the eye of man every year changes the 
 aspect. It results that from the last day of a year on which 
 wa saw white, to the first day of the year on which we shall 
 see black, there is but the interval of a single night. 
 
 Now, D'Artagnan, when he left Calais with his ten 
 scamps, would not have hesitated a little in attacking a 
 Goliath, a Nebuchadnezzar, or a Holofernes as he would in 
 crossing swords with a recruit or caviling with a landlady. 
 Then he resembled the sparrow-hawk, which, fasting, at- 
 tacks a ram. Hunger blinds. But D'Artagnan satisfied — 
 D'Artagnan rich — D'Artagnan a conqueror — D'Artagnan 
 proud of so difficult a triumph — D'Artagnan had too much 
 to lose not to reckon, figure by figure, with probable bad 
 fortune. His thoughts were employed, therefore, all the 
 way on the road from his presentation, with one thing, and 
 that was, how he should manage a man like Monk, a man 
 whom Charles himself, king as he was, managed with diffi- 
 culty; for. scarcely established, the protected might again 
 stand in need of the protector, and would, consequently, 
 not refuse him; such being the case, the petty satisfaction 
 of transporting M. d'Artagnan, or to confine him in one of 
 ihe Middlesex prisons, or to drown him a little on his pas- 
 sage from Dover to Boulogne. Such sorts of satisfaction 
 kings are accustomed to render to viceroys without disa- 
 greeable consequences. It would not be at all necessarj 
 for the king to be active in that contrepartie of the piece in 
 which Monk should take his revenge. The part of the 
 king would be confined to simply pardoning the Viceroy of 
 Ireland all he should undertake against D'Artagnan. 
 Nothing more was necessary to place the conscience of the 
 Duke of Albemarle at rest than a ie ahsolvo said with a 
 .augh, of the scrawl of "Charles the King," traced at the 
 foot of a parchment; and with these two words pronounced , 
 
THE VICOMTE t»E BRAGELONNE- 24? 
 
 and these two words written, poor D'Artagnan was forever 
 crushed under the ruins of his imagination. And then, a 
 thing sufficiently disquieting for a man with such foresight 
 as our musketeer, he found himself alone; and even the 
 friendship of Athos could not restore his confidence,, Certes, 
 if the affair had only concerned a free distribution of sword- 
 • thrusts, the musketeer would have reckoned upon his com- 
 panion; but in delicate matters with a king, when the 
 perhaps of an unlucky chance should arise in justification 
 of Monk or of Charles of England, D'Artagnan knew Athos 
 well enough to be sure he Avould give the best possible col- 
 oring to the loyalty of the survivor, and would content him- 
 self with shedding floods of tears on the tomb of the dead, 
 supposing the dead to be his friend, and afterward compos- 
 ing his epitaph in the most pompous superlatives. 
 
 "Decidedly," thought the Gascon; and this thought was 
 the result of the reflections which he had just whispered to 
 himself, and which we have repeated aloud — "decidedly, I 
 must be reconciled with Monsieur Monk, and acquire a 
 proof of his perfect indifference for the past. If, as God 
 forbid it should be so! he is still sulky and reserved in the 
 expression of this sentiment, I will give my money to Athos 
 to take away with him; I will remain in England just long 
 enough to unmask him, then, as I have a quick eye and a 
 light foot, I will seize the first hostile sign; I will decamp, 
 or conceal myself at the residence of my Lord of Bucking- 
 ham, who seems a good sort of devil at bottom, and to 
 whom, in return for his hospitality, I will then relate all 
 that history of the diamonds, which can now compromise 
 nobody but an old queen, who need not be ashamed, after 
 being the wife of a poor creature like Mazarin, of having 
 formerly been the mistress of a handsome nobleman like 
 Buckingham. Mordioux! that is the thing, and this Monk 
 shall not get the better of me. Eh! and, besides, I have an 
 idea!" 
 
 We know that, in general, D'Artagnan was not wanting 
 in ideas; and during his monologue, D'Artagnan buttoned 
 his vest up to the chin, and nothing excited his imagination 
 like this preparation for a combat of any kind, called 
 accinction by the Romans. Pie was quite heated when he 
 reached the mansion of the Duke of Albemarle. He was 
 introduced to the viceroy with a promptitude which proved 
 that he was considered as one of the household. Monk was 
 in his business closet. 
 
 "My lord," said D'Artagnan, with that expression of 
 
248 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 frankness which the Gascon knew so well how to assume, 
 "my lord, I am come to ask your grace's advice." 
 
 Monk, as closely buttoned up morally as his antagonist 
 was physically, replied: "Ask, my friend," and his counte- 
 nance presented an expression not less open than that of 
 D'Artagnan. 
 
 "My lord, in the first place, promise me secrecy and 
 indulgence." 
 
 "I promise you all you wish. What is the matter? 
 Speak." 
 
 "It is, my lord, that I am not quite pleased with the 
 king." 
 
 "Indeed! And on what account, my dear lieutenant?" 
 
 "Because his majesty gives way sometimes to pleasantries 
 very compromising for his servants; and pleasantry, my 
 lord, is a weapon that seriously Avounds men of the sword, 
 as we are." 
 
 Monk did all in his power not to betray his thought, but 
 D'Artagnan watched him with too close an attention not to 
 detect an almost imperceptible redness upon his face. 
 "Well, now, for my part," said he, with the most natural 
 air possible, "I am not an enemy to pleasantry, my dear 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan; my soldiers will tell you that even 
 many times in my camp, I listened, very indifferently, and 
 with a certain pleasure, to the satirical songs which the 
 army of Lambert passed into mine, and which, certainly, 
 would have made the ears of a general more susceptible 
 than I am tingle." 
 
 "Oh, my lord," said D'Artagnan, "I know you are a 
 complete man; I know you have been, for a long time, 
 placed above human miseries; but there are pleasantries, 
 and pleasantries of a certain kind, which, as to myself., have 
 the power of irritating me beyond expression." 
 
 "May I inquire what kind, my friend?" 
 
 "Such as are directed against my friends, or against peo- 
 ple I respect, my lord." 
 
 Monk made a slight movement, but which D'Artagnan 
 perceived. "Eh! and in what?" asked Monk, "in what 
 can the sjtroke of a pin which scratches another tickle your 
 skin? Answer me that." 
 
 "My lord, I can explain it to you in one single sentence; 
 it concerns you " 
 
 Monk advanced a single step toward D'Artagnan. "Con- 
 cerns me?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, and this is what I cannot explain: but that arises. 
 
THE VK.'OMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 249 
 
 perhaps, from my want of knowledge of his character. 
 How can the king have the heart to joke about a man who 
 has rendered him so many and such great services? How 
 can one understand that he should amuse himself in setting 
 by the ears a lion like you with a gnat like me?" 
 
 "I cannot conceive that in any way," said Monk. 
 
 "But so it is. The king, who owed me a reward, might 
 have rewarded me as a soldier, without contriving that his- 
 tory of the ransom, which affects you, my lord." 
 ' "No," said Monk, laughing; "it does not affect me in 
 !any way, I can assure you." 
 
 "Not as regards me, I can understand; you know me, my 
 lord; I am so discreet that the grave would appear a bab- 
 bler compared to me; but — do you understand, my lord?" 
 
 "No," replied Monk, with persistent obstinacy. 
 
 "If another knew the secret which I know " 
 
 "What secret?" 
 
 "Eh! my lord, why, that unfortunate secret of New- 
 castle." 
 
 "Oh! the million of Monsieur le Comte de la Fere?" 
 
 "No, my lord, no; the enterprise made upon your grace's 
 person." 
 
 "It was well played, chevalier, that is all, and no more is 
 to be said about it; you are a soldier, both brave and cun- 
 ning, which proves that you unite the qualities of Fabius 
 and Hannibal. You employed your means, force and cun- 
 ning; there is nothing to be said against that; I ought to 
 have been more guarded." 
 
 "Ah! yes; I know, my lord, and I expected nothing less 
 from your partiality; so that if it were only the abduction 
 in itself, mordioux ! that would be nothing; but there 
 are " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "The circumstances of that abduction." 
 
 "What circumstances?" 
 
 "Oh! you know very well what I mean, my lord.' 5 
 
 "No, curse me if I do." 
 
 "There is — in truth, it is difficult to speak it." 
 
 "There is?" 
 
 "Well, there is that devil of a box!" 
 
 Monk colored visibly. "Well, I have forgotten it." 
 
 "Deal box," continued D'Artagnan, "with holes for the 
 nose and mouth. In truth, my lord, all the rest was well; 
 but the box, the box! decidedly that was a coarse joke!" 
 Monk fidgeted about in his chair. "And, notwithstanding 
 
250 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 that I have done that," resumed D'Artagnan, "I, a soldie:* 
 of fortune, it was quite simple, because by the side of that 
 action, a little inconsiderate, I admit, which I committed, 
 but which the gravity of the case may excuse, I possess 
 circumspection and reserve." 
 
 "Oh!" said Monk, "believe me, I know you well, Mon- 
 seigneur d'Artagnan, and I appreciate you." 
 
 D'Artagnan never took his eyes off Monk, studying all 
 vhich passed in the mind of the general, as he prosecuted 
 hi? idea. "But it does not concern me," resumed he. 
 
 "Well, then, whom does it concern?" said Monk, who 
 began to grow a little impatient. 
 
 "It relates -o the king, who will never restrain his 
 tongue." 
 
 "Well! and suppose he should say all he knows?" said 
 Monk, with a degree of hesitation. 
 
 "My lord," replied D'Artagnan, "do not dissemble, I 
 implore you, with a man who speaks so frankly as I do. 
 You have a right to feel your susceptibility excited, how- 
 ever benignant it may be. What, the devil! it is not the 
 place for a man like you, a man who plays with crowns and 
 scepters as a Bohemian plays with his balls; it is not the 
 place of a serious man, I said, to be shut up in a box like a 
 curious object of natural history; for you must understand 
 it would make all your enemies ready to burst with laugh- 
 ter, and you are so great, so noble, so generous, that you 
 must have many enemies. This secret is enough to set half 
 the human race laughing, if you were represented in that 
 box. It is not decent to have the second personage in the 
 kingdom laughed at." 
 
 Monk was quite out of countenance at the idea of seeing 
 himself represented in his box. Ridicule, as D'Artagnan 
 had judiciously foreseen, acted upon him in a manner which 
 neither the chances of war, the aspirations of ambition, noi 
 the fear of death had been able to do. 
 
 "Good," thought the Gascon, "he is frightened; I am 
 safe." 
 
 "Oh! as to the king," said Monk, "fear nothing, my 
 dear Monsieur D'Artagnan, the king will not jest with 
 Monk, I assure you!" 
 
 The flash of his eye was intercepted in its passage by 
 D'Artagnan. Monk lowered his tone immediately: "The 
 king," continued he, "is of too noble a nature, the king's 
 heart is too high to allow him to wish ill to those who do 
 him good." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 251 
 
 ""Oh! certainly/' cried D'Artagnan. '"I am entirely of 
 your grace's opinion with regard to his heart, but not as to 
 his head — it is good, but it is trifling." 
 
 "The king will not trifle with Monk, be assured." 
 
 "Then you are quite at ease, my lord?" 
 
 "On that side, at least; yes, perfectly." 
 
 "Oh! I understand you; you are at ease as far as the 
 king is concerned?" 
 
 "I have told you I was." 
 
 "But you are not so much so on my account?" 
 
 "I thought I had told you that I had faith in your loyalty 
 and discretion." 
 
 "Without doubt, without doubt, but you must remember 
 one thing " 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That I was not alone, that I had companions; and what 
 companions!" 
 
 "Oh! yes, I know them." 
 
 "And, unfortunately, my lord, they know you too!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well; they are yonder, at Boulogne, waiting for me." 
 
 "And you fear." 
 
 "Yes, I fear that in my absence — Parbleu! if I were 
 near them, I could answer for their silence." 
 
 "Was I not right in saying that the danger, if there was 
 any danger, would not come from his majesty, however dis- 
 posed he may be to joke, but from your companions, as 
 you say — To be laughed at by a king may be tolerable, 
 but by the horse-ooys and scamps of the army! Damn it!" 
 
 "Yes, I comprehend, that would be insupportable; that 
 is why, my lord, I came to say, do you not think it would 
 be better that I should set out for France as soon as poss: 
 ble?" 
 
 "Certainly, if you think your presence " 
 
 "Would impose silence upon these scoundrels? Oh! i 
 am sure of that, my lord." 
 
 "Your presence will not prevent the report from spread 
 ing, if the tale has already transpired." 
 
 "Oh! it has not transpired, my lord, I will be bound. 
 At all events, be assured I am determined upon one thing." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "To blow out the brains of the first who shall have prop- 
 agated that report, and of the first who has heard it. After 
 which I will return to England to seek an asylum, and per- 
 haps employment with your grace." 
 
352 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 "Oh, come back! come back!" 
 
 ''Unfortunately, my lord, I am acquainted with nobody 
 here but your grace, and if I should no longer find you, or 
 if you should have forgotten me in your greatness?'' 
 
 "Listen to me, Monsieur d'Artagnan," replied Monk; 
 "you are a superior gentleman, full of intelligence and 
 courage; you merit all the good fortune this world can 
 bring you; come with me into Scotland, and I swear to you 
 I will create you a destiny which all may envy." 
 
 "Oh! my lord, that is impossible at present. At present 
 I have a sacred duty to perform; I have to watch over your 
 glory, 1 have to prevent a low joker from tarnishing in the 
 eyes of our contemporaries — who knows? in the eyes of 
 posterity — the splendor of your name." 
 
 "Of posterity, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" 
 
 "Doubtless. It is necessary, as regards posterity, that 
 all the details of that history should remain a mystery; for, 
 admit that this unfortunate history of the deal box should 
 spread, and it should be asserted that you had not re-estab- 
 lished the king loyally, and of your free will, but in conse- 
 quence of a compromise entered into at Scheveningen be- 
 tween you two. It would be in vain for me to declare how 
 the thing came about, for me who knew I should be be- 
 lieved, it would be said that I had received my part of the 
 cake, and was eating it." 
 
 Monk knitted his brow. "Glory, honor, probity!" said 
 he, "you are but words." 
 
 "Mist!" replied D'Artagnan; "nothing but mist, through 
 which nobody can see clearly." 
 
 "Well, then, go to France, my dear Monsieur d'Artag- 
 nan," said Monk; "go, and to render England more attrac- 
 tive and agreeable to you, accept a remembrance of me." 
 
 "What now?" thought D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I have on the banks of the Clyde," continued Monk, 
 ''a little house beneath trees, a cottage, as it is called here. 
 To this house are attached a hundred acres of land. Ac- 
 cept it as a memorial." ' 
 
 "Oh, my lord " 
 
 "Darnel you will be there in your own home, and that 
 will be the place of refuge you were talking of just now." 
 
 "For me to be obliged to your lordship to such an ex- 
 tent! Eeally, your grace, I am ashamed." 
 
 "Not at all, not at all, monsieur," replied Monk, with an 
 arch smile; "it is I who shall be obliged to you. And," 
 pressing the hand of the musketeer, "I will go and draw up 
 the deed of gift," and he room. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGEL02TNE. 253 
 
 D'Artagnan looked at him as he went out with something 
 :of a pensive and even an agitated air. 
 
 "After all," said he, ''he is a brave man. It is only a 
 
 : sad reflection that it is from fear of me, and nob affection that 
 
 he acts thus. Well, I will endeavor that affection may 
 
 follow." Then, after an instant's deeper reflection, "Bah!" 
 
 -Baid he, "to what purpose? He is an Englishman." And 
 
 he in his turn went out, a little confused with the combat. 
 
 "So," said he," I am a landowner! But how the devil am 
 
 IE to share the cottage with Planchet? Unless I give him 
 
 the land, and I take the chateau, or that he takes the house 
 
 and I — Nonsense! Monsieur Monk will never allow me to 
 
 share a house he has inhabited with a grocer. He is too 
 
 ! proud for that. Besides, why should I say anything about 
 
 ut to him? It was not with the money of the company I 
 
 (have acquired that property, it was with my mother-wit 
 
 i»lone; it is all mine, then. So, now I will go and find 
 
 Athos." And he directed his steps toward the dwelling of 
 
 the Comte de la Fere. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 HOW D'ARTAGNAN REGULATED THE "PASSIVE" OF THE 
 COMPANY BEFORE HE ESTABLISHED ITS "ACTIVE." 
 
 "Decidedly," said D'Artagnan to himself, "I am in 
 good vein. That star which shines once in the life of every 
 man, which shone for Job and Iris, the most unfortunate 
 of the Jews and the poorest of the Greeks, is come at last 
 to shine on me. I will commit no folly, I will take advan- 
 tage of it; it comes quite late enough to find me reasonable." 
 
 He supped that evening, in very good humor, with his 
 friend Athos; he said nothing to him about the expected 
 donation, but he could not forbear questioning his friend, 
 while he was eating, about country produce, sowing, and 
 planting. Athos replied^ complacently, as he always did. 
 His idea was that D'Artagnan wished to become a pro- 
 prietor; only he could not help regretting, more than once, 
 the absence of the lively humor and amusing sallies of the 
 cheerful companion of former days. In fact, D'Artagnan 
 was so absorbed, that, with his knife, he took advantage of 
 the grease left at the bottom of his plate to trace ciphers 
 and make additions of surprising rotundity. The order, or 
 rather iicensa, for their embarkation, arrived at x\thos' 
 
254 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 lodgings that evening. At the same time this paper Vf*s 
 remitted to the comte, another messenger brought to D'A*- 
 tagnan a little bundle of parchment adorned with all the 
 seals employed in setting off property deeds in England. 
 Athos surprised him turning over the leaves of these differ- 
 ent acts which establish the transmission of property. The 
 prudent Monk — others would say the generous Monk, had 
 commuted the donation into a sale, and acknowledged the 
 receipt of the sum of fifteen thousand livres as the price of 
 the property ceded. The messenger was gone. D'Artag- 
 nan still continued reading. Athos watched him with a 
 smile. D'Artagnan, surprising one of those smiles over 
 iais shoulder, put the bundle into its wrapper. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Athos. 
 
 ''Oh! not at all, my friend," replied the lieutenant, "I 
 will tell you " 
 
 "No, don't tell me anything, I beg you; orders are things 
 so sacred that to one's brother, one's father, the person 
 charged with such orders should never open his mouth. 
 Thus I, who speak to you, and love you more tenderly than 
 brother, father, or all the world " 
 
 "Except your Raoul?" 
 
 "I shall love Raoul still better when he shall be a man, 
 and I shall have seen him develop himself in all the phases 
 of his character and his actions, as I have seen you, my 
 friend." 
 
 "You said, then, that you had an order likewise, and 
 that you would not communicate it to me." 
 
 "Yes, my dear D'Artagnan." 
 
 The Gascon sighed. "There was a time," said he, "in 
 which you would have placed that order open upon the 
 table, saying, 'D'Artagnan, read this scrawl to Porthos, 
 Aramis, and me.' " 
 
 "That is true. Oh! that was the time of youth, confi- 
 dence, the generous season when the blood commands, 
 when it is warmed by feeling!" 
 
 "Well! Athos, will you allow me to tell you?" 
 
 "Speak, my friend." 
 
 "That delightful time, that generous season, that dom- 
 ination of the heated blood, were all very fine things, no 
 doubt; but I do not regret them at all. It is absolutely 
 like the period of studies. I have constantly met with fools 
 who would boast of the days of pensums, ferules, and crusts 
 of dry bread. It is singular, but I never loved all that; 
 for my part, however active and sober I might be (you 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 255 
 
 mow if I was so, Athos), so simple as I might appear in 
 iny clothes, I would not the less have preferred the braver- 
 ies and embroideries of Porthos to my little porous cassock, 
 yhich admitted the wind in winter and the sun in summer. 
 
 should always, my friend, mistrust him who would pre- 
 'end to prefer evil to good. Now, in times past, all was 
 vil with me, the times past in which every month found a 
 resh hole in my cassock and in my skin, a gold crown less in 
 jay poor purse; of that execrable time of small beer and 
 -eesaw, I regret absolutely nothing, nothing, nothing, but 
 lur friendship; for within me I have a heart, and it is a 
 liracle that heart has not been dried up by the wind of 
 overty which passed through the holes of my cloak, or 
 iierced by the swords of all shapes which passed through 
 he holes in my poor flesh." 
 
 "Do not regret our friendship," said Athos; "that will 
 nly di? with ourselves. Friendship is composed, above all 
 lings, of remembrances and habits, and if you have just 
 ow made a little satire upon mine, because I hesitate to 
 3II you the nature of my mission to France " 
 
 "Who! I? Oh, heavens! if you knew, my dear friend, 
 low indifferent all the missions of the world will hence- 
 orth become to me!" And he laid his hand upon the 
 larchment in his vast pocket. 
 
 Athos rose from the table and called the host in order to 
 lay the reckoning. 
 
 "Since I have known you, my friend," said D'Artagnan, 
 II have never discharged the reckoning. Porthos oftez 
 ad, Aramis sometimes, and you, you almost always drew 
 it your purse with the dessert. I am now rich, and 
 
 iould like to try if it is heroic to pay." 
 
 : 'Do so," said Athos, returning his purse to his pocket. 
 
 The two friends then directed their steps toward the 
 I irk, not, however, without D'Artagnan's frequently turn- 
 Lg round to watch the transport of his dear crowns. Night 
 
 id just spread her thick veil over the yellow waters of the 
 ihames; they heard those noises of casks and pulleys, the 
 
 • ecursors of preparing to sail which had so many times 
 
 ade the hearts of the musketeers beat when the dangers 
 the sea were the least of those they were going to face. 
 
 bis time they were to embark on board a large vessel, 
 
 lljich awaited them at Grayesend, and, Charles II., always 
 
 dicate in small matters, had sent one of his yachts, with 
 
 /ejve men of his Scotch guard, to do honor to the embas- 
 
 dor he was deputing to France. At midnight thf yacht 
 
256 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 had deposited its passengers on board the vessel, and at 
 eight o'clock in the morning the vessel landed the embas- 
 sador and his friend before the jettee at Boulogne. While 
 the comte, with Grimaud, was busy in procuring horses to 
 go straight to Paris, D'Artagnan hastened to the hostelry 
 where, according to his orders, his little army was to wait 
 for him. These gentlemen were at breakfast upon oysters, 
 fish, and aromatized brandy when D'Artagnan appeared. 
 They were all very gay, but not one of them had yet ex- 
 ceeded the bounds of reason. A hurrah of joy welcomed 
 the general. "Here I am," said D'Artagnan; "the cam- 
 paign is ended. I am come to bring each his complement 
 of pay, as agreed upon." Their eyes sparkled. "I will lay 
 a wager there are not, already, a hundred livres remaining 
 in the purse of the richest among you." 
 
 "That is true!" cried they in chorus. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "then this is the last 
 order. The treaty of commerce has been concluded, thanks 
 to our coup de main which made us masters of the most 
 skillful financier of England, for now I am at liberty to con- 
 fess to you that the man we had to carry off was the treas- 
 urer of General Monk." 
 
 This word treasurer produced a certain effect on hie 
 army. D'Artagnan observed that the eyes of Menneville 
 alone did not convince perfect faith. "This treasurer," 
 continued D'Artagnan, "I have conveyed to a neutral terri- 
 tory, Holland; I have forced him to sign the treaty; I have 
 even reconducted him to Newcastle, and as he was obliged 
 to be satisfied with our proceedings toward him — the deal 
 coffer being always carried without jolting, and being lined 
 softly, I asked for a gratification for you. Here it is." He 
 threw a respectable-looking purse upon the cloth; and all 
 involuntarily stretched out their hands. "One moment, my 
 lambs," said D'Artagnan; "if there are benefices, there are 
 also charges." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" murmured they. 
 
 "We are about to find ourselves, my friends, in a position 
 that would not be tenable for people without brains. I 
 speak plainly: we are between the gallows and the Bastile." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said the chorus. 
 
 "That is easy to be understood. It was necessary to ex- 
 plain to General Monk the disappearance of his treasurer. 
 I waited for that purpose till the very unhoped-for moment 
 of the restoration of King Charles II., who is one of mj 
 friends." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 257 
 
 The army exchanged a glance of satisfaction in reply to the 
 sufficiently proud look of D'Artagnan. "The king being re- 
 stored, I restored Monk his man of business, a little plucked, 
 it is true, but, in short, I restored him. Now, General 
 Monk, when he pardoned me, could not help repeating 
 these words to me, which I charge every one of you to 
 engrave deeply there, between the eyes, under the vault of 
 the cranium: 'Monsieur, the joke has been a good one, but 
 I don't naturally like jokes; if ever a word of what you 
 have done' (you understand me, Monsieur Menneville) 'es- 
 capes from your lips, or the lips of your companions, I 
 have, in my government of Scotland and Ireland, seven 
 hundred and forty-one wooden gibbets, of strong oak, 
 clamped with iron, and fresh greased every week. I will 
 make a present of one of these gibbets to each of you, and 
 observe well. Monsieur d'Artagnan,' added he (remark it 
 also, Monsieur Menneville), 'I shall still have seven hun- 
 dred and thirty left for my private pleasures. And still 
 further ' " " 
 
 "aIi! ah!" said the auxiliaries, "is there more still?" 
 
 "One trouble more. 'Monsieur d'Artagnan, I expedite 
 to the King of France the treaty in question, with a request 
 that he will cast into the Bastile provisionally, and then 
 send to me all who have taken part in this expedition; and 
 that is a prayer with which the king will certainly comply.' " 
 
 A cry of terror broke from all corners of the table. 
 
 "There! there! there!" said D'Artagnan, "this brave 
 Monsieur Monk has forgotten one thing, and that is that he 
 does not know the name of any one of you; I alone know you, 
 and it is not I, you may well believe, who will betray you. 
 Why should I? As for you, I cannot suppose you will be 
 silly enough to denounce yourselves, for then the king, to 
 spare himself the expense of feeding and lodging you, will 
 send you ofE to Scotland, where the seven hundred and 
 forty-one gibbets are to be found. That is all, messieurs 
 I have not another word to add to what I have had the 
 honor to tell you. I am sure you have understand me per- 
 fectly well, have you not, Monsieur Menneville?" 
 
 "Perfectly," replied the latter. 
 
 "Now the crowns," said D'Artagnan. "Shut the doors," 
 he cried, and opened \he bag upon the table, from which 
 rolled several line gold crowns. Every one made a move- 
 ment toward the floor. 
 
 •"Gently!" cried D'Artagnan. "I insist upon it nobody 
 stoops, and then I shall not be out in nay reckoning." He 
 
258 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 found it all right, gave fifty of those splendid crowns to 
 each man, and received as many benedictions as he be- 
 stowed pieces. "Now," said he "if it were possible for you 
 to reform a little, if you could become good and honest 
 citizens " 
 
 "That is rather difficult," said one of the troop. 
 
 "What then, captain?" said another. 
 
 "Because I might be able to find you again, and who 
 knows? refreshed from time to time by some windfall." 
 He made a sign to Menneville, who listened oO all he said 
 with a composed air. "Menneville," said he, "come with 
 me. Adieu, my brave fellows! I need not recommend 
 ;ou to be discreet." 
 
 Menneville followed him, while the salutations o^ the 
 auxiliaries were mingled with the sweet sound of the money 
 clinking in their pockets. 
 
 "Menneville," said D'Artagnan, when they were once in 
 the street, "you were not my dupe; beware of being so. 
 You did not appear to me to have any fear of the gibbets 
 of Monk, or the Bastile of His Majesty King Louis XIV., 
 but yon will do me the favor of being afraid of me. Then 
 listen: at the smallest word that shall escape you, I will 
 kill you as I would a fowl. I have absolution from our 
 holy father the pope in my pocket." 
 
 "I assure you I know absolutely nothing, my dear Mon- 
 sieur d'Artagnan, and that your words have all been to me 
 so many articles of faith." 
 
 "I was quite sure you were an intelligent fellow," sa : ci 
 the musketeer; "I have tried you for a length of time. 
 These fifty gold crowns which I give you more- than the 
 rest will prove the estimation I hold you in. Take them." 
 
 "Thanks, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Menneville. 
 
 "With that sum you can really become an honest man," 
 replied D'Artagnan, in the most serious tone possible. "It 
 would be disgraceful for a mind like yours, and a name you 
 no longer dare to bear, to sink forever under the rust of an 
 evil life. Become a gallant man, Menneville, and live for a 
 year upon thos^ hundred gold crowns; it is a good pro- 
 vision; twice that of a high officer. In a yea.'- come- to me, 
 and mordioux! I will make something of you." 
 
 Menneville swore, as his comrades had sworn, that he 
 would be as mute as a tomb. And yet some one must have 
 spok3n; and as, to a certainty, it was not one of the nine 
 companions, as equally certainly it was not Menneville, it 
 must have been D'Artagnan, who. in his quality of a. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 259 
 
 Gascon, had his tongue very near to his lips. For, in 
 short, if it was not he, who could it be? And bow can it 
 be explained that the secret of the deal coffer pierced with 
 holes should come to our knowledge, and in- so complete a 
 fashion that we have, as has been seen, related the history 
 of it in all its details the most intimate; details which, be- 
 sides, throw a light as new as unexpected upon all that 
 portion of the history of England which has been left, up 
 to the present day, completely in the shade by the histo- 
 rians of our neighbors? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 IK WHICH IT IS SEEN THAT THE FRENCH GROCER HAD 
 ALREADY BEEN ESTABLISHED IN THE SEVENTEENTH 
 CENTURY. 
 
 His accounts once settled, and his recommendations 
 made, D'Artagnan thought of nothing but regaining Paris 
 as soon as possible. Athos, on his part, was anxious to 
 reach home and to repose a little. However entire may 
 remain the character and the man after the fatigues of a 
 voyage, the traveler perceives with pleasure, at the close of 
 the day — even though the day has been a fine one, that 
 night is approaching, and will bring a little sleep with it. 
 So, from Boulogne to Paris, jogging on side by side, the two 
 friends, in some degree absorbed each in his individual 
 thoughts, conversed of nothing sufficiently interesting for 
 us to intrude upon our readers with. Each of them, given 
 up to his personal reflections, and constructing his future 
 after his own fashion, was above all anxious to abridge the 
 distance by speed. Athos and D'Artagnan arrived at the 
 barriers of Paris on the evening of the fourth day after 
 leaving Boulogne. 
 
 "Where are you going, my friend?" asked Athos. "I 
 shall direct my course straight to my hotel." 
 
 "And I straight to my partner's." 
 
 "To Planchet's?" 
 
 "Good Lord, yes; at the Pilon d'Or." 
 
 "Well, but shall we not meet again?" 
 
 "If you remain in Paris, yes; for I shall stay here." 
 
 "No; after having embraced Raoul, with whom I have 
 appointed a meeting at my hotel, I shall set out immediately 
 for La Fere." 
 
260 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 "Well, adieu, then, dear and true friend. " 
 
 "Au revoir! I would rather say, for why can you not 
 come and live with me at Blois? You are free, you are rich. 
 I will purchase for you, if you like, a handsome property in 
 the environs of Cheveray or of Bracieux. On the one side 
 you will have the finest woods in the world, which join those 
 of Chambord; on the other, admirable marshes. You who 
 love sporting, and who, whether you admit it or not, are a 
 poet, my dear friend, you will find pheasants, ravl, and 
 teal, without reckoning sunsets and excursions on the water P 
 to make you fancy yourself Kimrod and Apollo themselves. 
 Awaiting the acquisition, you can live at La Fere, and we 
 will go together to fly our hawks among the vines, as Louis 
 XIII. used to do. That is a quiet amusement for old fel- 
 lows like us." 
 
 D'Artagnan took the hands of Athos in his own. "Dear 
 comte," said he, "I will neither say 'Yes' nor 'No/ Let 
 me pass in Paris the time necessary for the regulations of 
 my affairs, and accustom myself, by degrees, to the heavy 
 and glittering idea which is beating in my brains and dazzles 
 them. I am rich, do you see, and from this moment till 
 the time I have acquired the habit of being rich, I know 
 myself, and 1 shall be an unsupportable animal. Now, I am 
 not enough of a fool to wish to appear to have lost my wits 
 before a friend like you, Athos. The habit is handsome, the 
 habit is richly gilded, but it is new, and does not seem to 
 fit me." 
 
 Athos smiled. "So be it," said he. "But apropos of 
 this habit, dear D'Artagnan, will you allow me to offer you 
 a little advice?" 
 
 "Yes, willingly." 
 
 "Y/ou will not be angry?" 
 
 ■'Proceed." 
 
 "When wealth falls to any one late or all at once, that 
 any one, in order not to change, will most likely become a 
 miser; that is to say, will not spend much more money than 
 he had done before; or else become a prodigal, and contract 
 so many debts as to become poor again." 
 
 "Oh! but what you say looks very much like a sophism, 
 my deal philosophic friend." 
 
 "I do not think so. Will you become a miser?" 
 
 "No, pardieu! I was one already, having nothing. Let 
 us change." 
 
 "Then be prodigal." 
 
 'Still less, mordiouz ' Debts terrify me. Creditors 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 261 
 
 appear to me by anticipation, those devils who turn the 
 damned upon the gridirons; and as patience is not my 
 dominant virtue, I am always tempted to thrash those 
 devils." 
 
 "You are the wisest man I know, and stand in no need 
 of counsel from any one. Great fools must they be who 
 think they have anything to teach you. But we are not at 
 the Rue St. Honore?" 
 
 "Yes, dear Athos." 
 
 "Look yonder, on the left, that small, long white hous«> 
 is the hotel at which I lodge. You may observe that it has 
 but two stages; I occupy the first; the other is let to an officer 
 whose duties oblige him to be absent eight or nine months 
 in the year, so 1 am in that house as at my own home, with- 
 out the expense." 
 
 "Oh! how well you manage, Athos. What order and 
 what liberality! They are what I wish to unite. But of 
 what use trying; that comes from birth, and cannot be 
 acquired." 
 
 "You are a flatterer! "Well! adieu, dear friend. Apropos, 
 remember me to Master Planchet, he was alway a lad of 
 spirit." 
 
 "And of heart, too, Athos. Adieu." 
 
 And they separated. During all this conversation, D'Ar- 
 tagnan had not for a moment lost sight of a certain pack- 
 horse, in whose panniers, under some hay, were spread the 
 sacoches (messengers' bags) with the portmanteau. Nine 
 o'clock was striking at St. Mine; Planchet's lads were shut- 
 ting up his shop. D'Artagnan stopped the postilion who 
 rode the pack-horse at the corner of the Rue des Lombards, 
 under a pent-house, and calling one of Planchet's boys, 
 he desired him not only to take care of the two horses, but 
 to watch the postilion; after which he entered the shop of 
 the grocer, who had just finished supper, and who, in his 
 little private room was, with a degree of anxiety, consulting 
 the calendar, from which, every evening, he scratched out 
 the day that was past. At the moment when Planchet, 
 according to his daily custom, with the back of his pen, 
 erased another day, D'Artagnan kicked with his feet at the 
 door, and the blow made his steel spur jingle. "Oh! good 
 Lord!" cried Planchet. The worthy grocer could say no 
 more; he perceived his partner, D'Artagnan entered with 
 a bent back and a dull eye; the Gascon had an idea with 
 regard to Planchet. 
 
 "Good God!" thought the grocer, looking earnestly at the 
 traveler,"he looks verv sad!" The musketeer sat down. 
 
262 THE VICOMTE DE BEAGELONNE. 
 
 "My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Planchet, with a 
 horrible palpitation of the heart. "Here you are! and 
 your health?" 
 
 "Tolerably good, Planchet! tolerably good!" said D'Av- 
 tagnan, with a profound sigh. 
 
 "You have not been wounded, I hope?" 
 
 "Pugh!" 
 
 "Ah! I see," continued Planchet, more and more alarmed, 
 "the expedition has been a trying one?" 
 
 "Yes," said D'Artagnan. A shudder ran through the 
 whole frame of Planchet. "I should like to have something 
 to drink," said the musketeer, raising his head piteously. 
 
 Planchet ran to the cupboard, and poured D'Artagnan 
 out some wine in a large glass. D'Artagnan examined the 
 bottle. 
 
 "What wine is that?" asked he. 
 
 "Alas! that which you prefer, monsieur," said Planchet; 
 "that good old Anjou wine, which was one day nearly cost- 
 ing us all so dear." 
 
 "Ah!" replied D'Artagnan, with a melancholy smile, 
 "Ah! my poor Planchet! ought I still to drink good wine?" 
 
 "Come, my dear master," said Planchet, making a super- 
 human effort, while all his contracted muscles, his paleness, 
 and his trembling betrayed the most acute anguish. "Come! 
 I have been a soldier, and consequently have some courage; 
 do not make me linger, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan; our 
 money is lost, is it not?" 
 
 Before he answered D'Artagnan took time which apjDeared 
 an age to the poor grocer. Nevertheless, he did nothing 
 but turn about upon his chair. 
 
 "And if that were the case," said he slowly, moving his 
 head up and down, "if that were the case, what would you 
 say, my dear friend?" 
 
 Planchet, from being pale, turned yellow. It might have 
 been thought he was going to swallow his tongue, so full 
 became his throat, so red were his eyes. 
 
 "Twenty thousand livres!" muttered he. "Twenty 
 thousand livres, though " 
 
 D'Artagnan, with his neck elongated, his legs stretched 
 out, and his hands hanging listlessly, looked like a statue 
 of discouragement. Planchet tore up a sigh from the deep- 
 est cavities of his breast. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I see how it is. Let us be men! It 
 is all over, is it not? The principal thing is, monsieur. 
 that you have saved your life." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 263 
 
 "Doubtless! doubtless — life is something — but I am 
 ruined!" 
 
 "Cordieu! monsieur!" said Planchet; "if it is so, we must 
 not despair for that; you shall become a grocer with me; 
 I will make you my partner, we will share the profits, and if 
 there should be no profits, well, why, then we will share 
 the almonds, raisins, and prunes, and we will nibble together 
 the last quarter of Dutch cheese." 
 
 D'Artagnan could hold out no longer. " Mordioux /" 
 cried he, with great emotion, "thou art a brave fellow, by 
 my honor, Planchet. You have not been playing comedy, 
 have you? You have not seen the pack-horse with ths 
 sacoches under the shed yonder?" 
 
 "What horse? What sacoches ?'■' said Planchet, whose 
 trembling heart began to suggest that D'Artagnan was 
 mad. 
 
 "Why, the English bags, mordioux J" said D'Artagnan, 
 all radiant, quite transfigured. 
 
 "Ah! good God!" articulated Planchet, drawing back 
 before the dazzling fire of his looks. 
 
 "Imbecile!" cried D'Artagnan, "you think me mad. 
 Mordioux ! on the contrary, never was my head more clear, 
 or my heart more joyous. To the sacoches, Planchet, to the 
 sacoches!" 
 
 "But to what sacoches, mon Dieu ?" 
 
 D'Artagnan pushed Planchet toward the window. "Un- 
 der the pent-house yonder, don't you see a horse?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Don't you see how his back is laden?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" 
 
 "Don't you see your lad chattering with the postilion?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes!" 
 
 "Well, you know the name of that lad, because he is your 
 ■)wn. Call him." 
 
 "Abdon! Abdon!" vociferated Planchet from the 
 window. 
 
 "Bring the horse!" shouted D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Bring the horse!" screamed Planchet. 
 
 "Now give ten livres to the postilion," said D'Artagnan, 
 m the tone he would have employed in commanding a 
 maneuver; "two lads to bring up the two first sacoches, two 
 to bring up the two last, and, move, mordioux! be alive !" 
 
 Planchet precipitated himself down the stairs as if the 
 devil had been at his heels. The moment after, the lads 
 ascended the staircase, bending beneath their burden. 
 
<>64 THE TICOMTE DE RRATtELOXXE. 
 
 D'Artagnan sent them off to their garrets, carefully closed 
 th<> door, and addressing Planchet, who, in his turn, looked 
 a little wild: 
 
 "Now, we are by ourselves," said he; and he spread upon 
 the floor a large cover, and emptied the first soroche into it. 
 Planchet did the same with the second; then D'Artagnan, 
 all in a tremble, let out the precious bowels of the third 
 with a knife. When Planchet heard the provoking sound 
 of the silver and gold — when he saw bubbling out of the 
 bags the shining crowns, which glittered like fish from the 
 sweep-net — when he felt himself plunging his hands up to 
 the elbow in that still rising tide of yellow and silver pieces, 
 a giddiness seized him, and he sank, like a man who is 
 thunder-struck, heavily down upon the enormous heap, 
 which his weight caused to roll away in all directions. 
 Planchet, suffocated with joy, had lost his senses. D'Ar- 
 tagnan threw a glass of white wine in his face, which, in- 
 continently, recalled him to life. 
 
 "Ah! good heavens! good heavens! good heavens!" said 
 Planchet, wiping his mustache and beard. 
 
 At that time, as they do now, grocers wore the cavalier 
 mustache and the lansquenet beard, only the bains cV argent, 
 already become rare in those days, have become almost 
 unknown now. 
 
 " Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan, "there are a hundred 
 thousand livres for you, partner. Draw your share, if you 
 please, and I will draw mine." 
 
 "Oh! the lovely sum! Monsieur d'Artagnan, the lovely 
 sum!" 
 
 "I confess that, half an hour ago, I regretted that I had 
 to give you so much; but I now no longer regret it; thou 
 art a brave grocer, Planchet. There, let us close our ac- 
 counts, for, as they say, short reckonings make long 
 friends." 
 
 "Oh! rather, in the first place, tell me the whole history," 
 said Planchet; "that must be better than the money." 
 
 "Ma foi /" said D'Artagnan, stroking his mustache, "I 
 can't say no; and if ever the historian turns to me for in 
 formation, he will be able to say he has not dipped his 
 bucket into a dry spring. Listen, then, Planchet, I will 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 "And I will build piles of crowns," said Planchet 
 "Commence, my dear master." 
 
 "Well, this is it," said D'Artagnan, drawing breath. 
 
 "And that is it," said Planchet, picking up his first 
 handful of crowos. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 mazarin's gaming party. 
 
 In a large chamber of the Palais Royal, covered with a 
 dark-colored velvet,, which threw into strong relief the 
 gilded frames of a great number of magnificent pictures, on 
 the evening of the arrival of the two Frenchmen, the whole 
 sourt was assembled before the alcove of M. le Cardinal de 
 Mazarin, who gave a party, for the purpose of play, to the 
 king and queen. A small screen separated three prepared 
 tables. At one of these tables the king and the two queens 
 were seated. Louis XIV., placed opposite to the young 
 aueen, his wife, smiled upon her with an expression of real 
 happiness. Anne of Austria held the cards against the 
 cardinal, and her daughter-in-law assisted her in the game, 
 when she was not engaged in smiling at her husband. As 
 for the cardinal, who was reclining on his bed, his cards 
 were held by the Comtesse de Soissons, and he watched 
 them with an incessant look of interest and cupidity. 
 
 The cardinal had been painted by Bernouin; but the rouge 
 which glowed only on his cheeks, threw into stronger con- 
 trast the sickly pallor of his countenance and the shining 
 yellow of his brow. His eyes alone acquired a more lively 
 expression from this auxiliary, and upon those sick man's 
 eyes were, from time to time, turned the uneasy looks of 
 the king, the queen, and the courtiers. The fact is, that 
 the two eyes of the Signor Mazarin were the stars more or 
 less brilliant in which the France of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury read its destiny every evening and every morning. 
 Monseigneur neither won nor lost; he was, therefore, 
 neither gay nor sad. It was a stagnation in which, full of 
 pity for him, Anne of Austria would not have willingly left 
 him; but in order to attract the attention of the sick man 
 by some brilliant stroke she must have either won or lost. 
 To win would hav3 been dangerous, because Mazarin would 
 have changed his indifference for an ugly grimace; to lose 
 would likewise have been dangerous, because she must have 
 cheated, and the infanta, who watched her game, would, 
 doubtless, have exclaimed against her partiality for Mazarin. 
 Profiting by this calm, the courtiers were chatting. When 
 not in a bad humor, M. de Mazarin was a very delonnaire 
 prince, and he, who prevented nobody from singing, pro- 
 vided they paid, was not tyrant enough to prevent people 
 from talking, provider 1 they made up their minds to lose. 
 
26G THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 They were chatting then. At the first table the king's 
 younger brother, Philip, Due d'Anjou, was admiring his 
 handsome face in the glass of a box. His favorite, the 
 Chevalier de Lorraine, leaning over the fauteuil of the 
 prince, was listening, with secret envy, to the Comte de 
 Guiche, another of Philip's favorites, who was relating in 
 choice terms the various vicissitudes of fortune of the royal 
 adventurer Charles II. He told, as so many fabulous events, 
 all the history of his peregrinations in Scotland, and his 
 terrors when the enemy's party was so closely on his track', 
 of nights passed in trees, and days passed in hunger and 
 combats. By degrees the fate of the unfortunate king 
 interested his auditors so greatly that the play languished, 
 even at the royal table, and the young king, with a pensive 
 look and downcast eye, followed, without appearing to give 
 any attention to it, the smallest details of this Odyssey, 
 very picturesquely related by the Comte de Guiche. 
 
 The Comtesse de Soissons interrupted the narrator, "Con- 
 fess, comte, you are inventing." 
 
 "Madame, I am repeating like a parrot all the histories 
 related to me by different Englishmen. I am compelled, 
 to my shame, to say I am as textual as a copy." 
 
 "Charles II. would have died before he could have en 
 dured all that." 
 
 Louis XIV. raised his intelligent and proud head. "Ma- 
 dame," said he, in a grave tone, still partaking something 
 of the timid child, "Monsieur le Cardinal will tell you that 
 in my minority, the affairs of France have been in jeopardy, 
 and that if I had been older, and obliged to take sword in 
 hand, it would sometimes have been for the evening meal." 
 
 "Thanks to God," said the cardinal, who spoke for the 
 first time, "your majesty exaggerates, and your supper has 
 always been ready with that of your servants." 
 
 The king colored. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Philip inconsiderately, from his place, and 
 without ceasing to admire himself, "I recollect once, at 
 Milan, the supper was laid for nobody, and that the king 
 eat two-thirds of a slice of bread, and abandoned to me the 
 other third." 
 
 The whole assembly, seeing Mazarin smile, began to 
 laugh. Courtiers flatter kings with the remembrance of 
 past distresses, as with the hopes of future good fortune. 
 
 "It is not to be denied that the crown of France has 
 always remained firm upon the heads of its kings," Anne of 
 Austria hastened to say, "and that it has fallen off from 
 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONSTE. 267 
 
 that of the King of England; and when, by chance, that 
 crown oscillated a little — for there are throne-quakes as 
 well as earth-quakes — every time, I say, that rebellion 
 threatened it, a good victory restored tranquillity." 
 
 "With a few gems added to the crown," said Mazarin. 
 
 The Comte de Guiche was silent; the king composed his 
 countenance, and Mazarin exchanged looks with Anne of 
 Austria, as if to thank her for her intervention. 
 
 "It is of no consequence," said Philip, smoothing his 
 hair; "my cousin Charles is not handsome, but he is very 
 brave, and has fought like a Eeister; and if he continues to 
 fight thus, no doubt he will finish by gaining a battle, like 
 Rocroy " 
 
 "He has no soldiers," interrupted the Chevalier de Lor- 
 raine. 
 
 "The King of Holland, his alley, will give him some. I 
 would willingly have given him some if I had been King of 
 France." 
 
 Louis XIV. blushed excessively. Mazarin affected to be 
 more attentive to his game than ever. 
 
 "By this time," resumed the Comte de Cuiche, "the for- 
 tune of this unhappy prince is decided. If he has been 
 deceived by Monk, he is ruined. Imprisonment, perhaps 
 death, will finish what exile, battles, and privations have 
 commenced." 
 
 Mazarin's brow became clouded. 
 
 "Is it certain," said Louis XIV., "that His Majesty 
 Charles II. has quitted the Hague?" 
 
 "Quite certain, your majesty," replied the young man; 
 "my father has received a letter containing all the details; 
 it is even known that the king has landed at Dover; some 
 fishermen saw him entering the port; the rest is still a 
 mystery." 
 
 "I should like to know the rest," said Philip im- 
 petuously. 
 
 "You know — you, my brother." 
 
 Louis XIV. colored again. That was the third time 
 within an hour. "Ask Monsieur le Cardinal," replied he, 
 in a tone which made Mazarin, Anne of Austria, and every- 
 body else open their eyes. 
 
 "Which means, my son," said Anne of Austria, laughing, 
 "that the king does not like affairs of state to be talked of 
 out of the council." 
 
 Philip received the reprimand with a good grace, and 
 bowed, first smiling at his brother, and then at his mother. 
 
268 THE VICOMTE DE BRACJELOXXE. 
 
 But Mazarin saw from the corner of his eye that a group 
 was about to be formed in the corner of the room, and that 
 the Due d'Anjou, with the Comte de Guiche and the Chev- 
 alier de Lorraine, prevented from talking aloud, might say, 
 in a whisper, what it was not convenient should be said, lie 
 was beginning then to dart at them glances full of mistrust 
 and uneasiness, inviting Anne of Austria to throw perturba- 
 tion amid the unlawful assembly, when, suddenly, Ber 
 nouin, entering under the tapestry of the bedroom, whis 
 pered in the ear of Mazarin, "Monseigneur, an envoy from 
 His Majesty the King of England." 
 
 Mazarin could not help exhibiting a slight emotion, which 
 was perceived by the king. To avoid being indiscreet, still 
 less than not to appear useless, Louis XIV. rose imme- 
 diately, and approaching his eminence wished him good- 
 night. All the assembly had risen with a great noise of 
 rolling of chairs and tables being pushed away. 
 
 "Let everybody depart by degrees," said Mazarin, in a 
 whisper to Louis XIV., "and be so good as to excuse me 
 a few minutes. I am going to expedite an affair about 
 which I wish to converse with your majesty this very 
 evening." 
 
 "And the queens?" asked Louis XIV. 
 
 "And Monsieur le Due d'Anjou," said his eminence. 
 
 At the same time he turned round in his rueUe, the cur- 
 tains of which, in falling, concealed the bed. The cardinal, 
 nevertheless, did not lose sight of the conspirators. 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte de Guiche," said he, in a fretful 
 voice, while putting on, behind the curtain, his robe de 
 chambre, with the assistance of Bernouin. 
 
 "I am here, monseigneur," said the young man, as he 
 approached. 
 
 "Take my cards, you are lucky. Win a little money for 
 me of these gentlemen." 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 The young man sat down at the table from which the 
 king withdrew to talk with the two queens. A serious 
 game was commenced between the comte and several rich 
 courtiers. In the meantime, Philip was discussing the 
 questions of dress with the Chevalier de Lorraine, and they 
 had ceased to hear the rustling of the cardinal's silk robe 
 from behind the curtain. His eminence had followed Ber 
 nouin into the closet adjoining the bedroom. 
 
THB VICOMTE DE BRAGELONHE. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 AN AFFAIR OF STATE. 
 
 The cardinal, on passing into his cabinet, found th« 
 Oomte de la Fere, who was waiting for him, engaged in ad- 
 miring a very fine Raphael placed over a sideboard covered 
 with plate. His eminence came in softly, lightly, and 
 silently, as a shadow, and surprised the countenance of the 
 comte, as he was accustomed to do, pretending to divine by 
 the simple expression of the face of his interlocutor what 
 would be the result of the conversation. But this time, 
 Mazarin was disappointed in his expectation; he read noth- 
 ing upon the face of Athos, not even the respect he was 
 accustomed to meet with on all faces. Athos was dressed 
 in black, with a simple lacing of silver. He wore the Holy 
 Ghost, the Garter, and the Golden Fleece, three orders of 
 such importance that a king alone, or else a player, could 
 wear them at once. 
 
 Mazarin rummaged a long time in his somewhat troubled 
 memory to recall the name he ought to give to this icy figure, 
 but he did not succeed. "I am told," said he, at length, 
 "you have a message from England for me." 
 
 And he sat down, dismissing Bernouin, who, in his qual- 
 ity of secretary, was getting his pen ready. 
 
 "On the part of His Majesty the King of England, yes, 
 your eminence." 
 
 "You speak very good French for an Englishman, mon- 
 sieur," said Mazarin graciously, looking through his fingers 
 at the Holy Ghost, Garter, and Golden Fleece, but more 
 particularly at the face of the messenger. 
 
 "I am not an Englishman, but a Frenchman, Monsieur le 
 Cardinal," replied Athos. 
 
 "It is remarkable that the King of England should choose 
 a Frenchman for his embassador; it is an excellent augury, 
 Your name, monsieur, if you please." 
 
 "Comte de la Fere," replied Athos, "bowing more 
 slightly than the ceremonial and pride of the all-powerful 
 minister required. 
 
 Mazarin bent his shoulders, as if to say: 
 
 "I do not know that name." 
 
 Athos did not alter his carriage. 
 
 "And you come, monsieur," continued Mazarin, ' to tell 
 me " 
 
 "J come on the part of His Majesty the King of Great 
 
270 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Britain to announce to the King of France" —Mazarin 
 frowned — "to announce to the King of France," continued 
 Athos imperturbably, "the happy restoration of Ilia 
 Majesty Charles II. to the throne of his ancestors." 
 
 This shade did not escape his cunning eminence. Mazarin 
 was too much accustomed to mankind not to see in the 
 cold and almost haughty politeness of Athos an index of 
 hostility, which was not of the temperature of that hot 
 house called a court. 
 
 "You have powers, I suppose?" asked Mazarin, in a short, 
 querulous tone. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." And the word "monseigneur" 
 came so painfully from the lips of Athos that it might be 
 said it skinned them. 
 
 "In that case show them." 
 
 Athos took from an embroidered velvet bag which he 
 carried under his pourpoint a dispatch. The cardinal held 
 out his hand for it. "Your pardon, monseigneur," said 
 Athos. "My dispatch is for the king." 
 
 "Since you are a Frenchman, monsieur, you ought to 
 know what the position of a prime minister is at the Court 
 of France." 
 
 "There was a time," replied Athos, "when I occupied 
 myself with the importance of prime ministers; but I have 
 formed long ago a resolution to treat no longer with any 
 but the king." 
 
 "Then, monsieur," said Mazarin, who began to be irri- 
 tated, "you will neither see the minister nor the king." 
 
 Mazarin rose. Athos replaced his dispatch in its bag 
 bowed gravely, and made several steps toward the door. 
 This coolness exasperated Mazarin. 
 
 "What strange diplomatic proceedings are these?" cried 
 he. "Are we again in the times in which Cromwell sent 
 us bullies in the guise of charges de affairs ? You want 
 nothing, monsieur, but the steel cap on your head, and a 
 Bible at your girdle." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Athos dryly, "I have never had ; as 
 you have, the advantage of treating with Cromwell; and J 
 have only seen his charges de affairs sword in hand; I am, 
 therefore, ignorant of how he treated with prime ministers. 
 As for the King of England, Charles II., I know that 
 when he writes to His Majesty King Louis XIV., he does 
 not write to His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin. I see no 
 diplomacy in that distinction." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Mazarin, raising his attenuated hand, ancf 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAOxELONN-Eo 271 
 
 striking his head, "I remember now!" Athos looked at 
 him in astonishment. "Yes, that is it!" said the cardinal, 
 continuing to look at his interlocutor; "yes, that is cer- 
 tainly it. I know you now, monsieur. Ah, diavolo! I am 
 no longer astonished." 
 
 "In fact, I was astonished that, with the excellent 
 memory your eminence has," replied Athos, smiling, "you 
 had not recognized me before." 
 
 "Always refractory and grumbling — monsieur — monsieur 
 — what do they call you? Stop — a name of a river — 
 Potamos; no — the name of an island — Naxos; no, perGiove! 
 the name of a mountain — Athos! Now I have it. De- 
 lighted to see you again, and to be no longer at Eueil, 
 where you and your damned companions made me pay ran- 
 som. Fronde! still Fronde! accursed Fronde! Oh, what 
 grudges! Why, monsieur, have your antipathies survived 
 mine? If any one had cause to complain, I think it could 
 not be you, who got out of the affair not only in a sound skin, 
 but with the cordon of the Holy Ghost around your neck." 
 
 "Monsieur le Cardinal," replied Athos, "permit me not 
 to enter into considerations of that kind. 1 have a mission, 
 to fulfill. Will you facilitate the means of my fulfilling 
 that mission, or will you not?" 
 
 "I am astonished," said Mazarin, "quite delighted at 
 having regained the remembrance;" and, bristling with 
 malicious points, "I am astonished, monsieur — Athos — 
 that a Frondeur like you should have accepted a mission to 
 Mazarin, as used to be said in the good old times — " And 
 Mazarin began to laugh, in spite of a painful cough, which 
 cut short his sentences, converting them into sobs. 
 
 "I have only accepted the mission to the King of France, 
 Monsieur le Cardinal," retorted the comte, though with 
 less asperity, for he thought he had sufficiently the advan- 
 tage to show himself modej-aie 
 
 "And yet, Monsieur le "Froudem-," said Mazarin gayly, 
 "the affair with which you charge yourself must, from the 
 king " 
 
 "With which I am charged, monseigneur. I do not run 
 after affairs." 
 
 "Be it so. I say that this negotiation must pass through 
 my hands. Let us lose no precious time, then. Tell me 
 the conditions." 
 
 "I have had the honor of assuring your eminence that the 
 '.etter alone of His Majesty King Charles II. contains the 
 revelation of his wishes." 
 
272 THE TICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE, 
 
 "Fooh! you are ridiculous with your obstinacy, Monsieur 
 Athos. It is plain you have kept company with the Puri- 
 tans yonder. As to your secret, I know it better than you 
 do; and you have done wrongly, perhaps, in not having 
 shown some respect for a very old and suffering man, who 
 has labored much during his life, and kept the field bravely 
 for his ideas as you have for yours. You will not communi- 
 cate your letter to me? You will say nothing to me? 
 Wonderfully well! Come with me into my chamber; you 
 shall speak to the king— and before the king. Now, then, 
 one last word: who gave you the Fleece? I remember you 
 passed for having the Garter; but as to the Fleece, I did 
 not know " 
 
 "Recently, monseigneur, Spain, on the occasion of the 
 marriage of His Majesty Louis XIV. sent King Charles 
 II. a brevet of the Fleece in blank; Charles II. immediately 
 transmitted it to me, filling up the blank with my name." 
 
 Mazarin arose, and leaning on the arm of Bernouin, he 
 returned to his ruelle at the moment the name of M. le 
 Prince was being announced. The Prince de Conde, the 
 first prince of the blood, the conqueror of Rocroy, Lens, 
 and Nordlingen, was, in fact, entering the apartment of 
 Monseigneur de Mazarin, followed by his gentlemen, and 
 had already saluted the king, when the prime minister 
 raised his curtain. Athos had time to see Eaoul pressing 
 the hand of the Comte de Guiche, and to return him a 
 smile for his respectful bow. He had time, likewise, to see 
 the radiant countenance of the cardinal, when he perceived 
 before him, upon the table, an enormous heap of gold, 
 ^bich the Comte de Guiche had won in a run of luck, after 
 his eminence had confided his cards tc him. So, forgefr 
 ting embassador, embassy, and prince, his first thought was 
 of the gold. 
 
 "What!" cried the old man— "all that— won?" 
 
 "Some fifty thousand crowns; yes, monseigneur," replied 
 the Comte de Guiche, rising. "Must I give my place to 
 your eminence, or shall I continue?" 
 
 "Give up! give up! you are mad. You would lose all 
 you have won. Peste!" 
 
 "Monseigneur!" said the Prince de Conde, bowing. 
 
 "Good-evening, Monsieur le Prince," said the minister, 
 in a careless tone; "it is very kind of you to visit an old 
 sick friend." 
 
 "A friend'" murmured the Comte de la Fere, at witness- 
 ing with stupor this monstrous alliance of words — "friends' 
 vyi en the parties are Conde and Mazarii>.! M 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 273 
 
 Mazarin seemed to divine the thought of the Frondeur, 
 for he smiled upon him with triumph, and immediately: 
 "Sire/' said he to the king, "I have the honor of present- 
 ing to your majesty Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, embas- 
 sador from his Britannic majesty. An affair of state, mes- 
 sieurs," added he, waving his hand to all who filled the 
 chamber, and who, the Prince de Conde at their head, ail 
 disappeared at the simple gesture. Raoul, after a last look 
 cast at the comte, followed M. de Conde. Philip of Anjoi 
 and the queen appeared to be consulting about departing. 
 
 "A family affair," said Mazarin suddenly, detaining 
 them in their seats. 
 
 "This gentleman is the bearer of a letter, in which King 
 Charles II., completely restored to his throne, demands an 
 alliance between Monsieur, the brother of the king, and 
 Mademoiselle Henrietta, granddaughter of Henry IV. Will 
 you remit your letter of credit to the king, Monsieur le 
 Comte?" 
 
 Athos remained for a minute stupefied. How could the 
 minister possibly know the contents of the letter, which 
 had never been out of his keeping for a single instant? 
 Nevertheless, always master of himself, he held out the 
 dispatch to the young king, Louis XIV., who took it with 
 a blush. A solemn silence reigned in the chamber of the 
 cardinal. It was only troubled by the dull sound of the 
 gold which Mazarin, with his yellow, dry hand, piled up 
 in a coffret while the king was reading. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLL 
 
 THE RECITAL. 
 
 The malice of the cardinal did not leave mucn for the 
 embassador to say; nevertheless, the word "restoration" 
 had struck the king, who, addressing the comte, upon 
 whom his eyes had been fixed since his entrance: 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "will you have the kindness to give 
 us some details of English affairs? You come iiom that 
 country, you are a Frenchman, and the orders which I see 
 glitter upon your person announce you to be a man of merit 
 as well as a man of quality." 
 
 "Monsieur," said the cardinal, turning toward the queen- 
 mother, "is an ancient ppwan*" ( ? your majesty, Monsieur 
 le Comte de la Fere." 
 
274 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Anne of Austria was as oblivious as a queen whose life 
 had been mingled with fine and stormy days. She looked 
 at Mazarin, whose malign smile promised her something 
 disagreeable; then she solicited from Athos, by another 
 look, an explanation. 
 
 "Monsieur/' continued the cardinal, "was a Treville 
 musketeer in the service of the late king. Monsieur is well 
 acquainted with England, whither he has made several 
 voyages at various periods; he is a subject of the highest 
 merit." 
 
 These words made allusion to all the remembrances which 
 Anne of Austria trembled to evoke. England, that was her 
 hatred of Richelieu and her love for Buckingham; a Tre- 
 ville musketeer, that was the whole Odyssey of the triumphs 
 which had made the heart of the young woman throb, and 
 of the dangers which had been so near overturning the 
 throne of the young queen. These words had much power, 
 for they rendered mute and attentive all the royal personages 
 who, with very various sentiments, set about recomposing 
 at the same time the mysterious, which the young had not 
 seen, and which the old had believed to be forever effaced. 
 
 "Speak, monsieur," said Louis XIV., the first to escape 
 from troubles, suspicions, and remembrances. 
 
 "Yes, speak," added Mazarin, to whom the little piece 
 of malice inflicted upon Anne of Austria had restored 
 energy and gayety. 
 
 "Sire," said the comte, "a sort of miracle has changed 
 the whole destiny of Charles II. That which men, till that 
 time, had been unable to do, God resolved to accomplish." 
 
 Mazarin coughed, while tossing about in his bed. 
 
 "King Charles II.," continued Athos, "left the Hague 
 neither as a fugitive nor a conqueror, but like an absolute 
 king, who, after a distant voyage from his kingdom, returns 
 amid universal benedictions." 
 
 "A great miracle, indeed," said Mazarin; "for, if the 
 news was true, King Charles II., who has just returned 
 amid benedictions, went away amid musket-shots." 
 
 The king remained impassible. Philip, younger and 
 more frivolous, could not repress a smile, which flattered 
 Mazarin as an applause of his pleasantry. 
 
 "It is plain," said the king, "there is a miracle; but God 
 who does so much for kings. Monsieur le Comte, neverthe- 
 less employs the hands of man to bring about the triumph 
 of His designs. To what men does Charles II. principally 
 owe his re-establishuieat;'" 
 
THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELOKJTE. S?5 
 
 "Why," interrupted Mazarin, "without any regard for 
 the self-love of the king, does not your majesty know that 
 it is to Monsieur Monk?" 
 
 "I ought to know it," replied Louis XIV. resolutely; 
 "and yet I ask Monsieur the Embassador the causes of the 
 change in this Monsieur Monk?" 
 
 "And your majesty touches precisely the question," re- 
 plied Athos; "for without the miracle I have had the honor 
 to speak of, Monsieur Monk would probably have remained 
 an implacable enemy to Charles II. God willed that a 
 strange, bold, and ingenious idea should enter into the 
 mind of a certain man, while a devoted and courageous idea 
 took possession of the mind of another man. The combina- 
 tion of these two ideas brought about such a change in the 
 fDosition of Monsieur Monk that from an inveterate enemy 
 le became a friend to the deposed king." 
 
 "These are exactly the details I asked for," said the king, 
 "Who and what are the two men of whom you speak?" 
 
 "Two Frenchmen, sire." 
 
 "Indeed! I am glad of that." 
 
 "And the two ideas," said Mazarin; "I am more curious 
 about ideas than about men, for my part." 
 
 "Yes," murmured the king. 
 
 "The second idea, the devoted, reasonable idea — the 
 least important, sir — was to go and dig up a million in gold, 
 buried by King Charles I. at Newcastle, and to purchase 
 with that gold the adherence of Monk." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" said Mazarin, reanimated by the word million. 
 "But Newcastle was at the time occupied by Monk." 
 
 "Yes, Wonsieur le Cardinal, and that is why I venture to 
 call the idea courageous as well as devote. It was neces- 
 sary, if Monk refused the offers of thp negotiator, to rein- 
 state King Charles II. in possession of this million, which 
 was to be torn, as it were, frotn the loyalty and not the 
 loyalism of General Monk. T^is was effected, in spite of 
 many difficulties; the general proved to be loyal, and 
 allowed the money to be taken away." 
 
 "It seems to me," said the timid, thoughtful king, 
 "that Charles II. could not have known of this million 
 while he was in Paris." 
 
 "It seems to me," rejoined the cardinal maliciously, 
 "that His Majesty the King of Great Britain knew perfectly 
 well of this million, but that he preferred having two millions 
 to having one." 
 
 "Sire," said Athos firmly, "the King of England, while 
 
276 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 in France, was so poor that he had not even money to take 
 the post; so destitute of hope that he frequently thought of 
 dying. He was so entirely ignorant of the existence of tha 
 million at Newcastle that but for a gentleman — one of your 
 majesty's subjects — the moral depositary of the million, and 
 who revealed the secret to King Charles II., that prince 
 would still be vegetating in the most cruel forgetfulness." 
 
 "Let us pass on to the strange, bold, and ingenious idea," 
 interrupted Mazarin, whose sagacity foresaw a check. 
 "What was that idea?" 
 
 » "This — Monsieur Monk formed the only obstacle to the 
 re-establishment of the fallen king. A Frenchman imag- 
 ined the idea of suppressing this obstacle." 
 
 "Oh! oh! but that is a scoundrel, that Frenchman," said 
 Mazarin; "and the idea is not so ingenious as to prevent its 
 author being tied up by the neck at the Place de Greve, by 
 decree of the parliament." 
 
 "Your eminence is mistaken," replied Athos dryly; "I 
 did not say that the Frenchman in question had resolved to 
 assassinate Monsieur Monk, but only to suppress him. The 
 words of the French language have a value which the gen- 
 tlemen of France know perfectly. Besides, this is an affair 
 of war; and when men serve kings against their enemies 
 they are not to be condemned by a parliament — God is their 
 judge. This French gentleman, then, formed the idea of 
 gaining possession of the person of Monk, and he executed 
 his plan." 
 
 The king became animated at the recital of great actions. 
 The king's younger brother struck the table with his hand 4 
 exclaiming: 
 
 "Ah! that is fine!" 
 
 "He carried off Monk?" said the king. "Why, Monk 
 was in his camp." 
 
 'And the gentleman was alone, sire.-" 
 
 'That is marvelous!" said Philip. 
 'Marvelous, indeed!" cried the king. 
 
 ''Good! There are two little lions unchained," mur- 
 mured the cardinal.' And with an air of spite, which he 
 did not dissemble: "I am unacquainted with these details; 
 wfll you guarantee the authenticity of them, monsieur?" 
 
 "All the more easily, Monsieur le Cardinal, from having 
 seen the events." 
 
 "You have?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 The king had involuntarily drawn close to the comte, tho 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 277 
 
 Due d'Anjou had turned sharply round, and pressed Athos 
 on the other side. 
 
 "Next, monsieur, next!" cried they hoth at the same time. 
 
 "Sire, Monsieur Monk, being taken by the Frenchman, 
 was brought to King Charles II. , at the Hague. The king 
 restored Monk his liberty, and the grateful general, in re- 
 turn, gave Charles II. the throne of Great Britain, for 
 which so many valiant people have died without result." 
 
 Philip clapped his hands with enthusiasm; Louis XIV. ; 
 more reflective, turned toward the Comte de la Fere. 
 
 "Is this true," said he, "in all its details?" 
 
 "Absolutely true, sire." 
 
 "That one of my gentlemen knew the secret of the mil- 
 lion, and kept it?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "The name of that gentleman?" 
 
 "It was your humble servant," said Athos simply, and 
 bowing. 
 
 A murmur of admiration made the heart of Athos swell 
 with pleasure. He had reason to be proud, at least. Maz- 
 arin himself had raised his arms toward heaven. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, "I will seek, I will find means 
 to reward you." Athos made a movement. "Oh, not for 
 your probity; to be paid for that would humiliate you: but 
 I owe you a reward for having participated in the restora- 
 tion of my brother, King Charles II." 
 
 "Certainly," said Mazarin. 
 
 "It is the triumph of a good cause which fills the whole 
 house of France with joy," said Anne of Austria. 
 
 "To continue," said Louis XIV.: "is it also true that a 
 single man penetrated to Monk, in his camp, and carried 
 him off?" 
 
 "That man had ten auxiliaries, taken from a very inferior 
 rank." 
 
 "And nothing but them?" 
 
 "Nothing more." 
 
 "And you call him?" 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnan, formerly lieutenant of the mus- 
 keteers of your majesty." 
 
 Anne of Austria colored; Mazarin became yellow with 
 shame; Louis XIV. was deeply thoughtful, and a drop of 
 sweat fell from his pale brow. 
 
 "What men!" murmured he. And involuntarily he 
 darted a glance at the minister which would have terrified 
 him, if Mazarin, at tne momejit had not concealed his head 
 under his pillow-. 
 
278 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the young Due d'Anjou, placing hu 
 hand, delicate and white as that of a woman, upon the arm 
 of Athos, "tell that brave man, I beg you, that Monsieur, 
 brother of the king, will to-morrow drink his health before 
 five hundred of the best gentlemen of France." 
 
 And on finishing these words the young man, perceiving 
 that his enthusiasm had deranged one of his ruffles, set to 
 work to put it to rights with the greatest care imaginable. 
 
 "Let us resume business, sire," interrupted Mazarin, 
 who never was enthusiastic, and who hud no ruffles on. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied Louis XIV. "Enter upon 
 your communications, Monsieur le Comte ; " added he, turn- 
 ing toward Athos. 
 
 Athos immediately commenced, and offered in due foim 
 the hand of the Princess Henrietta Stuart to the young 
 prince, the king's brother. The conference lasted an hour; 
 after which the doors of the chamber were thrown open to 
 the courtiers, who resumed their places, as if nothing had 
 been kept from them in the occupations of that evening. 
 Athos then found himself again with Raoul, and the father 
 and son were able to clasp hands once more. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 IN WHICH MAZARIN" BECOMES PRODIGAL. 
 
 While Mazarin was endeavoring to recover from the 
 serious alarm he had just experienced, Athos and Raoui 
 were exchanging a few words in a corner of the apartment. 
 
 "Well, here you are at Paris, then, Raoul?" said the 
 comte. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, since the return of Monsieur le Prince." 
 
 "I cannot converse freely with you here, because we are 
 observed; but I shall return home presently, and shall ex- 
 pect you as soon as your duty permits." 
 
 Raoul bowed, and at that moment M. le Prince came up 
 to them. The prince had that clear, keen look which dis- 
 tinguishes birds of prey of the noble species; his physiog- 
 nomy itself presented several distinct traits of this resem- 
 blance. It is known that in the Prince de Oonde the 
 aquiline nose rose out sharply and incisively from a brow 
 slightly retreating, rather low than high, which, according 
 to the railers of the court, a pitiless race even for genius, 
 constituted rather an eagle's beak than a human nose, in 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BB AGELONNE. 279 
 
 I. he heir of the illustrious princes of the house of Conde. 
 This penetrating look, this imperious expression of the 
 whole countenance, generally disturbed those to whom the 
 prince spoke more than either majesty or regular beauty 
 could have done in the conqueror of Eocroy. Besides this, 
 the fire mounted so suddenly to his projecting eyes that 
 with the prince every sort of animation resembled passion. 
 Now, on account of his rank, everybody at the court re- 
 spected M. le Prince, and many even, seeing only the man, 
 carried their respect as far as terror. Louis de Conde then 
 advanced toward the Comte de la Fere and Raoul, with the 
 marked intention of being saluted by the one and of speak- 
 ing to the other. No man bowed with more reserved grace 
 than the Comte de la Fere. He disdained to put into a 
 salutation all the shades which a courtier ordinarily borrows 
 from the same color — the desire to please. Athos knew his 
 own personal value, and bowed to the prince like a man, 
 correcting by something sympathetic and undefinable that 
 which might have appeared offensive to the pride of the 
 highest rank in the inflexibility of his attitude. The prince 
 was about to speak to Raoul. Athos prevented him. 
 
 "If Monsieur le Vicomte de Bragelonne," said he, "were 
 dot one of the humble servants of your royal highness, I 
 would beg him to pronounce my name before you, mon 
 prince." 
 
 "I have the honor to address Monsieur le Comte de la 
 Fere," said Conde instantly. 
 
 "My protector," added Raoul, blushing. 
 
 "One of the most honorable men in the kingdom," con- 
 tinued the prince; "one of the first gentlemen of France, 
 and of whom I have heard so much that I have frequently 
 desired to number him among my friends." 
 
 "An honor of which I should be unworthy," replied 
 Athos, "but for the respect and admiration I entertain for 
 your royal highness." 
 
 "Monsieur de Bragelonne," said the prince, "is a good 
 officer, who, it is plain, has been to a good school. Ah, 
 Monsieur le Comte, in your time generals had soldiers!" 
 
 "That is true, monseigneur; but noAvadays soldiers have 
 generals." 
 
 This compliment, which savored so little of flattery, made 
 to thrill with joy a man whom already Europe considered a 
 hero, and who might be thought to be satiated with praise. 
 "I very much regret," continued the prince, "that you 
 should have retired from the service, Monsieui le Comte; 
 
280 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 for it is more than probable that the king will soon have a 
 war with Holland or England, and opportunities for dis- 
 tinguishing himself would not be wanting for a man who, 
 like you, knows Great Britain as well as you do France." 
 
 "I bejieve I may say, monseigneur, that I have acted 
 wisely in retiring from the service," said Athos ; smiling. 
 "France and Great Britain will henceforward live like two 
 sisters, if I can trust my presentiments." 
 
 "Your presentiments?" 
 
 "Stop, monseigneur; listen to what is being said yonder., 
 at the table of Monsieur le Cardinal." 
 
 "Where they are playing?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 The cardinal had just raised himself upon one elbow, and 
 made a sign to the king's brother, who went to him. 
 "Monseigneur," said the cardinal, "pick up, if you please, 
 all those gold crowns." And he pointed to the enormous 
 pile of yellow and glittering pieces which the Comte de 
 Guiche had raised by degrees before him by a surprising 
 run of luck at play. 
 
 "For me?" cried the Due d'Anjou. 
 
 "Those fifty thousand crowns; yes, monseigneur, they are 
 yours." 
 
 "Do you give them to me?" 
 
 "I have been playing on your account, monseigneur," re- 
 plied the cardinal, getting weaker and weaker, as if this 
 effort of giving money had exhausted all his physical and 
 moral faculties. 
 
 "Oh, good heavens!" exclaimed Philip, wild with joy, 
 "what a fortunate 3ay!" And he himself, making a rake of 
 his fingers, drew a part of the sum into his pockets, which 
 he filled, and still full a third remained on the table. 
 
 "Chevalier," said Philip to his favorite, the Chevalier de 
 Lorraine, "come hither, chevalier." The favorite quickly 
 obeyed. "Pocket the rest," said the young prince. 
 
 This singular scene was only taken by the persons present 
 as a touching kind of family fete. The cardinal assumed 
 the airs of a father with the sons of France, and the two 
 young princes had grown up under his wing. No one then 
 imputed to pride, or even impertinence, as would be done 
 nowadays, this liberality on the part of the first minister. 
 The courtiers were satisfied with envying the prince. The 
 king turned away his head. 
 
 "I never had so much money before," said the young 
 prince joyously, as he crossed the chamber with his favorite 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 281 
 
 to go to his carriage. "No, never! What a weight these 
 crowns are!" 
 
 "But why has Monsieur le Cardinal given the money all 
 at once?" asked Monsieur le Prince of the Comte de la 
 Fere. "He must be very ill, the dear cardinal." 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur is very ill, without doubt; he looks 
 very ill, as your royal highness may perceive." 
 
 "Certes! but he will die of it. A hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand livres. Oh, it is incredible! But why, comte? Tell 
 me a reason for it?" 
 
 "Patience, monseigneur, I beg of you. Here comes Mon- 
 sieur le Due d'Anjou, talking with the Chevalier de Lor- 
 raine; I should not be surprised if they spared us the 
 trouble of being indiscreet. Listen to them." 
 
 In fact, the chevalier said to the prince in a low voice, 
 "Monseigneur, it is not natural for Monsieur Mazarin to 
 give you so much money. Take care; you will let some of 
 the pieces fall, monseigneur. What design has the cardinal 
 upon you, to make him so generous?" 
 
 "As I said," whispered Athos, in the prince's ear; "that, 
 perhaps, is the best reply to your question." 
 
 "Tell, me, monseigneur," reiterated the chevalier im- 
 patiently, as he was calculating, by weighing them in his 
 pocket, the quarter of the sum which had fallen to his 
 share by rebound. 
 
 "My dear chevalier, a nuptial present." 
 
 "How a nuptial present?" 
 
 "Eh! yes, I am going to be married," replied the Due 
 d'Anjou, without perceiving, at the moment he was pass- 
 ing, the prince and Athos, who both bowed respectfully. 
 
 The chevalier darted at the young duke a glance so 
 strange and so malicious that the Comte de la Fere quite 
 started at beholding it. 
 
 "You! you be married!" repeated he; "oh! that's impos- 
 sible. You would not comm.t such a folly!" 
 
 "Bah! I don't do it myself; I am made to do it," replied 
 the Due d'Anjou. "But come, quick! let us get rid of our 
 mor_9y." Thereupon he disappeared with his companions, 
 laughing and talking, while all heads were bowed on his 
 passage. 
 
 "Then," whispered the prince to Athos, "that is the 
 secret." 
 
 "It was not I that told you so, monseigneur. 3i 
 
 "He is to marry thft sister of Charles II, ?" 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
282 THE VICOMTE DE P.RAGELONNE. 
 
 The prince reflected for a moment, and his eye shot 
 forth one of its not unfreqnent flashes. "Humph!" said 
 he slowly, as if speaking to himself; "once more our swords 
 are to be hung on the wall — for a long time!" and he sighed. 
 
 All which that sigh contained of ambition silently stifled, 
 of illusions extinguished and hopes disappointed, Athos 
 alone divined, for he alone had heard that sigh. Imme- 
 diately after the prince took leave and the king left the 
 apartment. Athos, by a sign made to Bragelonne, renewed 
 the desire he had expressed at the commencement of the 
 scene. By degrees the chamber was deserted, and Mazarin 
 was left alone, a prey to suffering which he could no longer 
 dissemble. "Bernouin! Bernouin!" cried he, in a broken 
 voice. 
 
 "What does monseigneur want?" 
 
 "Guenaud — let Guenaud be sent for," said his eminence. 
 "I think I am dying." 
 
 Bernouin, in great terror, rushed into the cabinet to give 
 the order, and the piquer, who hastened to fetch the physi- 
 cian, passed the king's carriage in the Rue St. Honore. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 GUEtfAND. 
 
 The order of the cardinal was pressing; Guenaud quickly 
 obeyed it. He found his patient stretched upon his bed, 
 his legs swelled, livid, and his stomach collapsed. Mazarin 
 had just undergone a severe attack of gout. He suffered 
 cruelly, and with the impatience of a man who has not been 
 accustomed to resistance. On the arrival of Guenaud: 
 "Ah!" said he; "now I am saved!" 
 
 Guenaud was a very learned and circumspect man, who 
 stood in no need of the critics of Boileau to obtain a repu- 
 tation. When in face of a disease, if it were personified in 
 a king, he treated the patient as a Turk or Moor. He did 
 not therefore reply to Mazarin as the minister expected: 
 "Here is the doctor; good-by, disease!" On the contrary, 
 on examining his patient, with a very se r ious air: 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said he. 
 
 "Eh! what, Guenaud? How you look!" 
 
 "I look as I ought to do on seeing your complaint, mon- 
 seigneur; it is a very dangerous one," 
 
 "The gout. Oh! yes, the gout," 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 283 
 
 "With complications, monseigneur." 
 
 Mazarin raised himself upon his elbow, and questioning 
 by look and gesture-. "What do you mean by that? Am I 
 worse than I believe myself to be?" 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Guenaud, seating himself by the 
 bed, "your eminence has worked very hard during your 
 iife; your eminence has suffered much." 
 
 "But I am not old, I fancy. The late Monsieur de 
 Richelieu was but seventeen months younger than I am 
 when he died, and died of a mortal disease. I am young, 
 Guenaud; remember, I am scarcely fifty -two." 
 
 "Oh! monseigneur, you are much more than that. How 
 long did the Fronde last?" 
 
 "For what purpose do you put such a question to me?" 
 
 "For a medical calculation, monseigneur." 
 
 "Well, some ten years — off aud on." 
 
 "Very well; be kind enough to reckon every year of the 
 Fronde as three years — that makes thirty; now twenty and 
 fifty-two make seventy-two years. You are seventy-two, 
 monseigneur; and that is a great age." While saying this, 
 he felt the pulse of his patient. This pulse was filled with 
 such fatal prognostics that the physician continued, not- 
 withstanding the interruptions of the patient: "Put down 
 the years of the Fronde at four each, and you have lived 
 eighty-two years." 
 
 "Are you speaking seriously, Guenaud?" 
 
 "Alas! yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "You take a roundabout way, then, to announce to me 
 that I am very ill?" 
 
 "Ma foil yes, monseigneur, and with a man of the mind 
 and courage of your eminence, it ought not to be necessary 
 to do so." 
 
 The cardinal breathed with such difficulty that he in- 
 spired pity even in a pitiless physician. "There are diseases 
 and diseases," resumed Mazarin. "From some of them 
 people escape." 
 
 "That is true, monseigneur." 
 
 "Is it not?" cried Mazarin, almost joyously; "for, in 
 short, what else would be the use of power, of strength, of 
 will? Of what use would genius be— your genius, Guenaud? 
 Of what use would be science and art, if the patient, who 
 disposes of all that, cannot be saved from peril?" 
 
 Guenaud was about to open his moutn, but Mazarin con- 
 tinued: 
 
 ' .Remember/' said he, "I am the most confiding of your 
 
284 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 patients; remember, 1 obey you blindly, and that conse- 
 quently " 
 
 "I know all that," said Guenaud. 
 
 "I shall be cured, then?" 
 
 "Monseigneur, there is neither strength of wii!, nor 
 power, nor genius, nor science, that can resist a disease 
 which God doubtless sends, or which he cast upon the earth 
 at the creation, with full power to destroy and kill man- 
 kind. When the disease is mortal, it kills, and nothing 
 can " 
 
 "Is — my — disease — mortal?" asked Mazarin. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 His eminence sank down for a moment, like an unfor- 
 tunate wretch who is crushed by a falling column. But 
 the spirit of Mazarin was a strong one, or, rather, his mind 
 was a firm one. "Guenaud," said he, recovering from his 
 first shock, "you will permit me to appeal from your judg- 
 ment. I will call together the most learned men of Europe; 
 I will consult them. I will live, in short, by the virtue of 
 I care not what remedy." 
 
 "Monseigneur must not suppose," said Guenaud, "that 
 I have the presumption to pronounce alone upon an exist- 
 ence so valuable as yours. I have already assembled all the 
 good physicians and practitioners of France and Europe. 
 There were twelve of them." 
 
 "And they said " 
 
 "They said that your eminence was attacked with a mor- 
 tal disease; I have the consultation signed in my portfolio. 
 If your eminence will please to see it, you will find the 
 names of all the incurable diseases we have met with. 
 There is first " 
 
 "No, no!" cried Mazarin, pushing away the paper. "No, 
 no, Guenaud, I yield! I yield!" And a profound silenca. 
 during which the cardinal resumed his senses and recovered 
 hisstrength, succeeded to the agitation of this scene. "There 
 is another thing," murmured Mazarin; "there are empirics 
 and charlatans. In my country, those whom physicians 
 abandon run the chances of a vender of orvietan, which 
 ten times kills them, but a hundred times saves them." 
 
 "Has not your eminence observed that during the last 
 month I have altered my remedies ten times?" 
 
 "Yes. Well?" 
 
 "Well, I have spent fifty thousand livres in purchasing 
 the secrets of all these fellows; the list is exhausted, and so 
 18 my purse. You are not cured] and ; but for my art, you 
 would be dead,"" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 285 
 
 "That ends it!" murmured the cardinal: "that ends it!" 
 And he threw a melancholy look upon the riches which 
 surrounded him. "And must I quit all that?" sighed he* 
 "I am dying, Guenaud! I am dying!" 
 
 "Oh! not yet, monseigneur," said the physician. 
 
 Mazariu seized his hand. "In what time?" asked he, 
 fixing his two large eyes upon the impassible countenance 
 of the physician. 
 
 "Monseigneur, we never tell that." 
 
 "To ordinary men, perhaps not; but to me — to me, 
 whose every minute is worth a treasure. Tell me, Guen- 
 aud, tell me!" 
 
 "No, no, monseigneur." 
 
 "I insist upon it, I tell you. Oh! give me a month, and 
 for every one of those thirty days I will pay you a hundred 
 thousand livres." 
 
 "Monseigneur," replied Guenaud, in a firm voice, "it is 
 God who can give you days of grace, and not I. God only 
 allows you a fortnight." 
 
 The cardinal breathed a painful sigh, and sank back 
 upon his pillow, murmuring, "Thank you, Guenaud, thank 
 you!" 
 
 The physician was about to depart; the dying man raised 
 himself up: "Silence!" said he, with eyes of flame, "silence!" 
 
 "Monseigneur, I have known this secret" two montl s; you 
 see that I have kept it faithfully." 
 
 "Go, Guenaud; I will take care of your fortunes; go, 
 and tell Brienne to send me a clerk called Monsieur Col- 
 bert. Go!" 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 COLBERT. 
 
 Colbert was not far off. During the whole evening he 
 had remained in one of the corridors, chatting with Ber- 
 nouin and Brienne, and commenting, with the ordinary 
 skill of people of a court, upon the views which develop 
 themselves, like air-bubbles upon the water, on the surface 
 of each event. It is doubtless time to trace, in a few words, 
 one of the most interesting portraits of the age, and to 
 trace it with as much truth, perhaps, as contemporary 
 painters have been able to do. Colbert was a man in whom 
 the historian and the moralist have an equal right. He was 
 
286 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 thirteen years older than Louis XIV., his future master, 
 Of middle height, rather thin than otherwise, he had deejt- 
 set eyes, a mean appearance, coarse black and thin hair, 
 which, say the biographers of his time, made him take early 
 to the calotte. A look of severity, of harshness even, a sort 
 of stiffness, which, with inferiors, was pride, with superiors, 
 an affectation of superior virtue; a surly cast of countenance 
 upon all occasions, even when looking at himself in a glass 
 alone — such is the exterior of the personage. As to the 
 moral part of his character, the depth of his talent for 
 accounts, and his ingenuity in making sterility itself pro- 
 ductive, were much boasted of. Colbert had formed the 
 idea of forcing governors of frontier places to feed the gar- 
 risons without pay with what they drew from contributions. 
 Such a valuable quality made Mazarin think of replacing 
 Joubert, his intendant, who was recently dead, by M. Col- 
 bert, who had such skill in nibbling down allowances. Col- 
 bert by degrees crept into the court, notwithstanding the 
 meanness of his birth, for he was the son of a man who 
 sold wine, as his father had done, but who afterward sold 
 cloth, and then silk stuffs. Colbert, destined for trade, 
 had been a clerk to a merchant at Lyons, whom he had 
 quitted to come to Paris in the office of a Chatelet pro- 
 cureur named Biterne. It was here he learned the art of 
 drawing up an account, and the much more valuable one of 
 complicating it. This stiffness of Colbert's had been of 
 great benefit to him; so true is it that Fortune, when she 
 has a caprice, resembles those women of antiquity whose 
 fantasy nothing physical or moral, in either things or men, 
 disgusted. Colbert, placed with Michel Letellier, Secretary 
 of State, in 1648, by his cousin Colbert, Seigneur de St. 
 Penange, who favored him, received one day from the min- 
 ister a commission for Cardinal Mazarin. His eminence was 
 then in the enjoyment of flourishing health, and the bad 
 years of the Fronde had not yet counted triple and quad- 
 ruple for him. He was at Sedan, very much annoyed at a 
 court intrigue in which Anne of Austria appeared to wish 
 to desert his cause. Of this intrigue Letellier held the 
 thread. He had just received a letter from Anne of Austria, 
 a letter very valuable to him, and strongly compromising 
 Mazarin; but, as he already played the double part which 
 served him so well, and by which he always managed two 
 enemies so as to draw advantage from both, either by im- 
 broiling them more and more or by reconciling them, 
 Michel Letellier wished to send Anne of Austria's letter 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 287 
 
 go Mazarin, in order that be might be acquainted with it, 
 and consequently would be pleased with his having rendered 
 him a service so willingly. To send the letter was an easy 
 matter; to recover it again, after having communicated it, 
 that was the difficulty. Letellier cast his eyes around him, 
 and seeing the black and meager clerk scribbling away with 
 his scrowling brow in his office, he preferred him to the 
 best gendarme for the execution of this design. 
 
 Colbert was commanded to set out for Sedan, with posi- 
 tive orders to carry the letter to Mazarin, and bring it back 
 to Letellier. He listened to his orders with scrupulous 
 attention, required it to be repeated to him twice, and was 
 particular in learning whether the bringing back was as 
 necessary as the communicating, and Letellier replied, 
 sternly, "More necessary." Then he set out, traveled like 
 a courier, without any care for his body, and placed in the 
 hands of Mazarin, first a letter from Letellier, which an- 
 nounced to the cardinal the sending of the precious letter, 
 .and then that letter itself. Mazarin colored greatly while 
 reading Anne of Austria's letter, gave Colbert a gracious 
 smile, and dismissed him. 
 
 "When shall I have the answer, monseigneur?" 
 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow morning?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 The clerk turned upon his heel after sporting his very 
 best bow. The next day he was at his post at seven o'clock. 
 Mazarin made him wait till ten. He remained patiently in 
 the antechamber; his turn being come, he entered; Maz- 
 >arin gave him a sealed packet. Upon the envelope of this 
 i packet were these words: "A Monsieur Michel Letellier, 
 etc." Colbert looked at the packet with much attention; the 
 cardinal put on a pleasant countenance, and pushed him 
 (toward the door. 
 
 "And the letter of the queen-mother, monsieur?" asked 
 (Colbert. 
 
 "It is with the rest, in the packet," said Mazarin. 
 
 "Oh! very well," replied Colbert; and placing his hat 
 'between his knees, he began to unseal the packet. 
 
 Mazarin uttered a cry. "What are you doing?" said he 
 angrily. 
 
 "I am unsealing the packet, monseigneur." 
 
 "You mistrust me, then, Master Cuistre, do you? Did 
 j,ny one ever see such impertinence?" 
 
 "Oh! monseigneur, do not be angry with me! it is ce~ 
 
288 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 tainly not your eminence's word I place in doubt, God for- 
 bid!" 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "It is the carefulness of your chancery, monseigneur. 
 What is a letter? A rag. May not a rag be forgotten? 
 And, look, monseigneur, look if I was not right. Your 
 clerks have forgotten the rag; the letter is not in the 
 packet." 
 
 "You are an insolent fellow, and you have not looked," 
 cried Mazarin very angrily. "Be gone, and wait my 
 pleasure," 
 
 While saying these words, with subtlety perfectly Italian, 
 he snatched the packet from the hands of Colbert, and re- 
 entered his apartments. 
 
 But this anger could not last so long as not to be replaced 
 in time by reason. Mazarin, every morning, on opening 
 his closet door, found the figure of Colbert as a sentinel be- 
 hind the bench, and this disagreeable figure never failed to 
 ask him humbly, but with tenacity, for the queen-mother's 
 letter. Mazarin could hold out no longer, and was obliged 
 to give it up. He accompanied this restitution with a most 
 severe reprimand, during which Colbert contented himself 
 with examining, feeling, even smelling, as it were, the paper, 
 the characters, and the signature, neither more nor less 
 than if he had to do with the greatest forger in the king- 
 dom. Mazarin behaved more rudely still to him, but Col- 
 bert, still impassible, having obtained a certainty that the 
 letter was the true one, went off as if he had been deaf. 
 This conduct afterward was worth the post of Joubert to 
 him; for Mazarin, instead of bearing malice, admired him, 
 and was desirous of attaching so much fidelity to himself. 
 
 It may be judged by this single anecdote what the char- 
 acter of Colbert was. Events, developing themselves, by 
 degrees allowed all the powers of his friend to act freely. 
 Colbert was not long in insinuating himself into the good 
 graces of the cardinal; he became even indispensable to 
 him. The clerk was acquainted with all his accounts, with- 
 out the cardinal's ever having spoken to him about them. 
 This secret between them was a powerful tie, and this was 
 why, when about to appear before the Master of another 
 world, Mazarin was desirous of taking good counsel in dis- 
 posing of the wealth he was so unwillingly obliged to leave 
 in this world. After the visit to Guenaud, he therefore 
 sent for Colbert, desired him to sit down, and said to him 
 "Let us converse, Monsieur Colbert, and seriously, for I 
 am very sick, and I may chance tc die t " 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 280 
 
 "Man is mortal," replied Colbert. 
 
 "I have always remembered that, Monsieur Colbert, and 
 1 have worked in that prevision. You know that I have 
 amassed a little wealth." 
 
 "I know you have, monseigneur." 
 
 "At how much do you estimate, as near as you can, the 
 amount of this wealth, Monsieur Colbert?" 
 
 "At forty millions, five hundred and sixty thousand, two 
 hundred livres, nine sous, eight deniers," replied Colbert. 
 
 The cardinal fetched a deep sigh, and looked at Colbert 
 with wonder; but he allowed a smile to steal across his lips. 
 
 "Property known," added Colbert, in reply to that 
 smile. 
 
 The cardinal made quite a start in his bed. "What do 
 you mean by that?" said he. 
 
 "I mean," said Colbert, "that besides those forty mil- 
 lions, five hundred and sixty thousand, two hundred livres, 
 nine sous, eight deniers there are thirteen millions that 
 are not known of." 
 
 "Ouf !" sighed Mazarin, "what a man!" 
 
 At this moment the head of Bernouin appeared through 
 the embrasure of the door. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Mazarin, "and why do you disturb 
 me?" 
 
 "The Theatin father, your eminence's director, was sent 
 for this evening; and he cannot come again to monseigneur 
 till after to-morrow." 
 
 Mazarin looked at Colbert, who arose and took his hat, 
 saying: "I will come again, monseigneur." 
 
 Mazarin hesitated. "No, no," said he, "I have as much 
 business to transact with you as with him. Besides, you 
 are my other confessor — and what I have to say to one the 
 other may hear. Kemain where you are, Colbert." 
 
 "But, monseigneur, if there be a secret of penitence, will 
 the director consent to my being here?" 
 
 "Do not trouble yourself about that; come into the 
 ruelle." 
 
 "I can wait outside, monseigneur." 
 
 "No, no, it will do you good to hear the confession of a 
 rich man." 
 
 Colbert bowed, and went into the ruelle. 
 
 "Introduce the Theatin father," said Mazarin, closing 
 the curiains. 
 
390 THE VICOMTE DB BRAGELONNE 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 CONFESSION OF A MAN OF WEALTH. 
 
 The Theatin entered deliberately, without teing too 
 much astonished at the noise and agitation which anxiety 
 for the health of the cardinal had raised in his household. 
 "Come in, my reverend father," said Mazariu, after a last 
 look at the ruelle, "come in, and console me." 
 
 "That :s my duty, monseigneur," replied the Theatin. 
 
 "Commence by sitting down, and making yourself com- 
 fortable, for I am going to begin by a general confession; 
 you will afterward give me a good absolution, and I shall 
 oelieve myself more tranquil." 
 
 "Monseigneur," said the father, "you are not so ill as to 
 make a general confession urgent — and it will be very 
 fatiguing — take care." 
 
 "You suspect, then, that it may be long, father?" 
 
 "How can I think it otherwise, when a man has lived so 
 completely as your eminence has done?" 
 
 "Ah! that is true! — yes — the recital may be long." 
 
 "The mercy of God is great," snuffled the Theatin. 
 
 "Stop," said Mazarin; "there I begin to terrify myself 
 with having allowed so many things to pass which the Lord 
 might reprove." 
 
 "Is not that always so?" said the Theatin naively, remov- 
 ing further from the lamp his thin, pointed face, like that 
 of a mole. "Sinners are so; forgetful beforehand, and 
 scrupulous when it is too late." 
 
 "Sinners?" replied Mazarin. "Do you use that word 
 ironically, and to reproach me with all the genealogies I 
 have allowed to be made on my account — 1 — the son of a 
 fisherman, in fact." * 
 
 "Hum!" said the Theatin. 
 
 'That is a first sin, father; for I have allowed myself to 
 be made to be descended from two old Roman consuls, S. 
 Geganius Macerinns 1st, Macerinus 2d, and Proculus Mac- 
 erinus 3d, of whom the Chronicle of Haolander speaks. 
 From Macerinus to Mazarin the proximity was tempting. 
 Macerinus, a diminutive, means leanish. poorish. out of ease. 
 Oh! reverent father! Mazarini may now be carried to th6 
 
 *This is quite untranslatable, it being a play upon the words peeheu%. 
 
 ft Mfloer, aod pfchtur, & flsberaiap. H js. jc vt?ry bad teste,- TiiA«». 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELOTOTE. 291 
 
 (augmentative Maigre, thin as Lazarus. Look!" and he 
 showed his fleshless arm. 
 
 "In your having been born of a family of fishermen 
 [peclieurs), I see nothing injurious to you; for St. Peter was 
 a fisherman; and if you are a prince of the church, mon- 
 seigneur, he was the supreme head of it. Pass on, if you 
 please." 
 
 "So much the more for my having threatened with the 
 IBastile a certain Bounet, a priest of Avignon, who wanted to 
 publish a genealogy of the Casa Mazarini much too mar- 
 velous." 
 
 "To be probable?" replied the Theatin. 
 
 "Oh! if I had acted up to his idea, father, that would 
 have been the vice of pride — another sin." 
 
 "It was excess of wit, and a person is not to be re- 
 proached with such sorts of abuses. Pass on, pass on!" 
 
 "I was all pride. Look you, father, I will endeavor to 
 divide that from capital sins." 
 
 "I like divisions, when well made." 
 
 "I am glad of that. You must know that in 1630 — alas! 
 that is thirty-one years ago " 
 
 "You were then twenty-nine years old, monseigneur." 
 
 "A hot-headed age. I was then something of " soldier, 
 and I threw myself at Casal into the arquebusades, to show 
 that I rode on horseback as well as an officer. It is true, 
 II restored peace between the French and the Spaniards. 
 That redeems my sin a little." 
 
 "I see no sin in being able to ride well on horseback," 
 said the Theatin; "that is in perfect good taste, and does 
 honor to our gown. In my quality of a Christian, I ap- 
 prove of your having prevented the effusion of blood; in my 
 quality of a monk, I am proud of the bravery a monk has 
 exhibited." 
 
 Mazarin bowed his head humbly. "Yes," said he, "but 
 i the consequences?" 
 
 "What consequences?" 
 
 "Eh! that damned sin of pride has roots without end. 
 From the time that I threw myself in that manner between 
 two armies, that I had smelled powder and faced lines of 
 soldiers, I have held generals a little in contempt." 
 
 "Ah!" said the father. 
 
 "There is the evil; so that I have not thought one sup- 
 portable since that time." 
 
 "The fact is," said the Theatin, "that the generals we, 
 have had have not been remarkable." 
 
292 THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONKB. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Mazarin, "there was Monsieur le Prince. I 
 have tormented him thoroughly!" 
 
 "He is not much to be pitied; he has acquired sufficient 
 glory and sufficient wealth." 
 
 "That may be, for Monsieur le Prince; but Monsieur 
 Beaufort, for example — whom I made suffer so long in the 
 dungeon of Vincennes?" 
 
 "Ah! but he was a rebel, and the safety of the state re- 
 quired that you should make a sacrifice. Pass on!" 
 
 "I believe I have exhausted pride. There is another sin 
 which I am afraid to qualify." 
 
 "I will qualify it myself. Tell it." 
 
 "A great sin, reverend father." 
 'We shall judge, monseigneur." 
 
 "You cannot fail to have heard of certain relations 
 which I have had — with her majesty the queen-mother — 
 the malevolent " 
 
 "The malevolent, monseigneur, are fools. Was it not 
 necessary, for the good of the state and the interests of the 
 young king, that you should live in good intelligence with 
 the queen? Pass on, pass on." 
 
 "I assure you," said Mazarin, "you remove a terrible 
 weight from my breast." 
 
 "These are all trifles — look for something serious." 
 
 "I have had much ambition, father." 
 
 "That is the march of great minds and things, mon- 
 seigneur." 
 
 "Even that trifle of the tiara?" 
 
 "To be pope is to be the first of Christians. Why should 
 you not desire that?" 
 
 "It has been printed that, to gain that object, I have 
 sold Cambrai to the Spaniards." 
 
 "You have, perhaps, yourself written pamphlets without 
 too much persecuting pamphleteers." 
 
 "Then, reverend father, I have truly a clean breast. I 
 feel nothing remaining but slight peccadilloes." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 "Play." 
 
 "That is rather mundane; but you were obliged by the 
 duties of greatness to keep a good house." 
 
 "I like to win." 
 
 "No player plays to lose." 
 
 "i cheated a little." 
 
 "You took your advantage. Pass on." 
 
 "Well, reverend father, I feel nothing else upon my con- 
 
THE V1C0MTE DE BRAGELON"NE. 293 
 
 science. Give me absolution, and my soul will be able s 
 when God shah please to call it, to mount without obstacle 
 to the throne " 
 
 The Theatin moved neither his arms nor his lips* "What 
 are you waiting for, father?" said Mazarin. 
 
 "I am waiting for the end." 
 
 "The end of what?" 
 
 "Of the confession, monsieur.'' 
 
 "But I have ended." 
 
 "Oh, no; your eminence is mistaken." 
 
 "Not that I know of." 
 
 '"'Search diligently." 
 
 "I have searched as well as possible." 
 
 "Then I will assist your memory." 
 
 "Do." 
 
 The Theatin coughed several times. "You have said 
 nothing of avarice, another capital sin, nor of those mil- 
 lions," said he. 
 
 "Of what millions, father?" 
 
 "Why, of those you possess, monseigneur." 
 
 "Father, that money is mine. Why should I speak to 
 you about that?" 
 
 "Because, you see, our opinions differ. You say that 
 money is yours, while I, I believe it is rather the property 
 of others." 
 
 Mazarin lifted his cold hand to his brow, which was 
 dewed with sweat. "How so?" stammered he. 
 
 "This way. Your excellency has gained much wealth — 
 in the service of the king." 
 
 "Hum! much — that is, not too much." 
 
 "Whatever it may be, whence came that wealth?" 
 
 "From the state." 
 
 "The state; that is the king." 
 
 "But what do you conclude from that father?" said 
 Mazarin, who began to tremble. 
 
 "I cannot conclude without seeing a list of the riches 
 you possess. Let us reckon a little, if you please. You 
 have the bishopric of Metz?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The abbeys of St. Clement, St. Arnould, and St. Vin- 
 cent, all at Metz?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You have the abbey of St. Denis, in France — a magnify 
 cent property?" 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
294 THE TICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "You have the abbey ol Ciuny, which is rich?" 
 
 "I have." 
 
 "That of St. MidarS, at Soisson, with a revenua of on3 
 hundred thousand livres?" 
 
 "I cannot deny it." 
 
 "That of St. Victor, at Marseilles, one of the best in the 
 south?" 
 
 "Yes, father.'; 
 
 "A good million a year. With the emoluments of th# 
 eardinalship and the ministry, I say too little when I say 
 two millions a year." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "In ten years that is twenty millions, and twenty millions 
 placed out at fifty per cent, give, by progression, twenty- 
 three millions in ten years." 
 
 "How well you reckon for a Theatin." 
 
 "Since your eminence placed our order in the convent we 
 occupy, near St. Germain des Pres, in 1641, I have kept the 
 accounts of the society." 
 
 "And mine likewise, apparently, father." 
 
 "One ought to know a little of everything, monseigneur." 
 
 "Very well. Conclude, at present " 
 
 "I conclude that your baggage is too heavy to allow you 
 to pass through the gates of Paradise." 
 
 "Shall I be damned?" 
 
 "If you do not make restitution, yes." 
 
 Mazarin uttered a piteous cry. "Restitution! but to 
 whom, good God?" 
 
 "To the owner of that money, to the king." 
 
 "But the king did not give it me all.'' 
 
 "A moment: does not the king sign the ordinances?" 
 
 Mazarin passed from sighs to groans. "Absolution! abso- 
 /ution!" cried he. 
 
 "Impossible, monseigneur. Restitution! restitution!" 
 replied the Theatin. 
 
 "'But you absolve me from all other sins, why not from 
 that?" 
 
 "Because," replied the father, "to absolve you for tha^ 
 motive would be a sin from which the king would never 
 absolve me, monseigneur." 
 
 Thereupon the confessor quitted his penitent with an air 
 full of compunction. He then went out in the same man- 
 ner as he had entered. 
 
 "Oh, good God!" groaned the cardinal. "Come here, 
 Colbert; I am very, very ill indeed, my friend." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRA.GELONNE. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE DONATION, 
 
 Colbert reappeared beneath the curtains. 
 
 "Have you heard?" said Mazarin. 
 
 "Alas! yes, monseigneur." 
 
 "Can he be right? Can all this money be badly ac- 
 quired?" 
 
 "A Theatin, monseigneur, is a bad judge of matters of 
 finance," repled Colbert coolly. "And yet it is very possi- 
 ble that, according to his theological ideas, your eminence 
 has been, in a certain degree, wrong. People generally 
 find they have been so when they die." 
 
 "In the first place, they commit the wrong of dying, 
 Colbert." 
 
 "That is true, monseigneur. Against whom, however, 
 did the Theatin make out that you had committed these 
 wrongs? Against the king?" 
 
 Mazarin shrugged his shoulders. "As if I had not snved 
 both his state and his finances." 
 
 "That admits of no contradiction, monseigneur." 
 
 "Does it? Then I have received a merely legitimate 
 salary, in spite of the opinion of my confessor?" 
 
 "That is beyond doubt." 
 
 •'And I might fairly keep for my own family, which is 
 so needy, a good fortune, the whole even of what I have 
 gained?" 
 
 "I see no impediment to that, monseigneur." 
 
 "I felt assured that in consulting you, Colbert, I should 
 have sage advice," replied Mazarin, greatly delighted. 
 
 Colbert resumed his pedantic lo^k. "Monseigneur," 
 interrupted he, "I think it would be quite as well to ex- 
 amine whether what the Theatin said is not a snare." 
 
 "Oh, no; a snare? What for? The Theatin is an honest 
 man." 
 
 "He believed your eminence to be at the gates of the 
 tomb because your eminence consulted him. Did I not 
 hear him say: 'Distinguish that which the king has given 
 jou from that which you have given yourself.' Recollect, 
 monseigneur, if he did not say something like that to you? 
 That is quite a theatrical speech," 
 
 "That is possible." 
 
 "In which case, monseigneur, I should consider you as 
 required by the Theatin to " 
 
 "To make restitution!" cried Mazarin, with, great warmth. 
 
 "Ehl I do not say do 
 
296 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 "What! of all? You do not dream of such a thing! 
 You speak just as the confessor did." 
 
 ''To make restitution of a part, that is to say, his 
 majesty's part; and that, monseigneur, may have its dan- 
 gers. Your eminenceis too skillful a politician not to know 
 that, at this moment, the king does not possess a hundred 
 and fifty thousand livres clear in his coffers." 
 
 "That is not my affair," said Mazarin triumphantly; 
 "that belongs to Monsieur le Surintendant Fouquet, whose 
 accounts I have given you to verify for months past." 
 
 Colbert bit his lips at the name only c>f Fouquet. "His 
 majesty," said he, between his teeth, "has no money but 
 that which Monsieur Fouquet collects; your money, mon- 
 seigneur, would afford him a delicious banquet." 
 
 "Well, but I am not the surintendant of his majesty's 
 6nances — I have my purse — certes, I would do much for 
 his majesty's welfare — some legacy — but I cannot disappoint 
 my family." 
 
 "The legacy of a part would dishonor you and offend the 
 king. Leaving a part to his majesty is to avow that that 
 part has inspired you with doubts as not being acquired 
 legitimately." 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert!" 
 
 "I thought your eminence did me the honor to ask my 
 advice?" 
 
 "Yes; but you are ignorant of the principal details of the 
 question." 
 
 "I am ignorant of nothing, monseigneur; during ten 
 vears, all the columns of figures which are found in France 
 have passed in review before me; and if I have painfully 
 nailed them into my brain; they are there now so well 
 riveted, that, from the office of Monsieur Letellier, which is 
 sober, to the little secret largesses of Monsieur Fouquet, who 
 is prodigal, I could recite, figure by figure, all the money that 
 is spent in France, from Marseilles to Cherbourg." 
 
 "Then you would have me throw all my money into the 
 coffers of the king!" cried Mazarin ironically, and from 
 whom, at the same time, the gout forced painful moans. 
 "Certes, the king would reproach me with nothing, but he 
 would laugh at me, while squandering my millions, and 
 with reason." 
 
 ' Y yci eminence has misunderstood me. I did not, the 
 least in the world, pretend that his majesty ought to spend 
 your money." 
 
 "You said so clearly, it seems to me, when you advised 
 Hie to give it to him." 
 
THE VICOMTE t>E BRAGELONNE. 29* 
 
 ''Ah," replied Colbert, "tnat is because your eminence, 
 absorbed as you are by your disease, entirely loses sight of 
 the character of Louis XIV." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "That character, if I may venture to express myself thus, 
 resembles that which monseigneur confessed just now to 
 the Theatin." 
 
 "Go on— that is?" 
 
 "Pride! Pardon me, monseigneur, haughtiness, noble. 
 Hess; kings have no pride, that is a human passion." 
 
 "Pride, yes, you are right. Next?" 
 
 "Well, monseigneur, if I have divined rightly, your em 
 inence has but to give all your money to the king, and that 
 ; mmediately." 
 
 "But for what?" said Mazarin, quite bewildered. 
 
 "Because the king will not accept of the whole." 
 
 "What, and he a young man, and devoured by ambition?*' 
 
 "Just so." 
 
 "A young man who is anxious for my death!" 
 
 ''Monseigneur!" 
 
 "To inherit, yes, Colbert, yes; he is anxious for my death, 
 in order to inherit. Triple fool that I am! I would pre- 
 vent him!" 
 
 "Exactly; if the donation were made in a certain form, 
 he would refuse it." 
 
 "Well; but how?" 
 
 "That is plain enough. A young man who has yet done 
 nothing — who burns to distinguish himself — who burns to 
 reign alone, will never take anything ready built, he will 
 construct for himself. This prince, monseigneur, will 
 never be content with the Palais Boyal, which Monsieur de 
 Kichelieu left him; nor with the Palais Mazarin, which you 
 have caused to be so superbly constructed; nor with the 
 Louvre, which his ancestors inhabited; nor with St. 
 Germains, where he was born. All that does not proceed 
 from himself, I predict he will disdain." 
 
 "And you will guarantee that if I give my forty millions 
 to the king " 
 
 "Saying certain things to him at the same time, I guaran 
 tee he will refuse them." 
 
 "But those things — what are they?" 
 
 "I will write them, if monseigneur will have the good' 
 ness to dictate them." 
 
 "Well, but, after all, what advantage will that be to me?" 
 
 "An enormous one. Nobody will afterward be able to 
 accuse your eminence oL that uniust avarice with whi^' 
 
298 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 pamphleteers have reproached the most brilliant mind of 
 the present age." 
 
 "You are right, Colbert, you are right; go, and seek the 
 king, on my part, and carry him my will." 
 
 "Your donation, monseigneur." 
 
 "But if he should accept it? If he should even think of 
 accepting it?" 
 
 "Then there would remain thirteen millions for your 
 family, and that is a good round sum." 
 
 "But then you would be either a fool or a traitor." 
 
 "And I am neither the one nor the other, monseigneur. 
 You appear to be much afraid the king will accept; you 
 have a deal more reason to fear that he will not accept. 
 
 "But, see you, if he does not accept, I should like to 
 guarantee my thirteen reserved millions to him — yes, I will 
 do so — yes. But my pains are returning! I shall faint! I 
 am very, very ill, Colbert; I am very near my end!" 
 
 Colbert started. The cardinal was indeed very ill; large 
 drops of sweat flowed down upon his bed of agony, and the 
 frightful paleness of a face streaming with water was a 
 spectacle which the most hardened practitioner could not 
 have beheld without compassion. Colbert was, without 
 doubt, very much affected, for he quitted the chamber, 
 calling Bernouin to attend the dying man, and went into 
 the corridor. There, walking about with a meditative ex- 
 pression, which almost gave nobleness to his vulgar head, 
 his shoulders thrown up, his neck stretched out, his lips 
 half open, to give vent to unconnected fragments of in- 
 coherent thoughts, he lashed up his courage to the pitch 
 of the undertaking contemplated, while within ten paces of 
 him, separated only by a Avail, his master was being stifled 
 by anguish which drew from him lamentable cries, think- 
 ing no more of the treasures of the earth, or of the joys of 
 Paradise, but much of all the horrors of hell. "While burn- 
 ing-hot napkins, topicals, revulsives, and Guenaud, who 
 was recalled, were performing their functions with increased 
 activity, Colbert, holding his great head in both his hands, 
 to compress within it the fever of the projects engendered 
 by the brain, was meditating the tenor of the donation he 
 would make Mazarin write at the first hour of respite his 
 disease should afford him. It would appear as if all the 
 cries of the cardinal, and all the attacks of death upon this 
 representative of the past, were stimulants for the genius of 
 this thinker with the bushy eyebrows, who was turning 
 already toward the rising of the new sun of a regenerated 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 209 
 
 society. Colbert resumed his place at Mazarin's pillow tit 
 the first interval of pain, and persuaded him to dictate a 
 donation thus conceived. 
 
 "About to appear before God, the Master of mankind, I 
 beg the king, who was my master on earth, to resume the 
 wealth which his bounty has bestowed upon me, and which 
 my family would be happy to see pass into such illustrious 
 hands. The particulars of my property will be found — they 
 are drawn up — at the first requisition of his majesty, or at 
 the last sight of his most devoted servant. 
 
 "Jules, Cardinal de Mazarin." 
 
 The cardinal sighed heavily as he signed this; Colbert 
 sealed the packet, and carried it immediately to the Louvre, 
 whither the king had returned. 
 
 He then went back to his own home, rubbing his hands 
 with the confidence of a workman who has done a good 
 day's work. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 HOW ANNE OF AUSTRIA GAVE ONE PIECE OF ADVICE TO 
 LOUIS XIV., AND HOW M. FOUQUET GAVE HIM ANOTHER. 
 
 The news of the extremity into which the cardinal had 
 fallen had already spread, and attracted at least as much 
 attention among the people of the Louvre as the news of 
 the marriage of Monsieur, the king's brother, which had 
 already been announced as an official fact. Scarcely had 
 Louis XIV. returned home, with his thoughts fully occu- 
 pied with the various things he had seen and heard in the 
 course of the evening, when an usher announced that the 
 same crowd of courtiers who, in the morning, had thronged 
 his lever, presented themselves again at his couclier, a re- 
 markable piece of respect which, during the reign of the 
 cardinal, the court, not very discreet in its preferences, 
 had accorded to the minister, without caring about dis- 
 pleasing the king. 
 
 But the minister had had. as we have said, an alarming 
 attack of gout, and the tide of flattery was mounting toward 
 the throne. Courtiers have a marvelous instinct in scent- 
 ing events beforehand; courtiers possess a supreme kind of 
 science; they are diplomatists to throw a light upon tho 
 
300 THE VICOMTE DE BltAGELOHTKft. 
 
 unraveling of difficult circumstances, captains to divine the 
 issue of battles, and physicians to cure the sick. Louis 
 XIV., to whom his mother had taught this axiom, among 
 many others, understood at once that M. le Cardinal must 
 be very ill. Scarcely had Anne of Austria conducted the 
 young queen to her apartments and relieved her brows of 
 the headdress of ceremony, when she went to see her son 
 in his cabinet, where, alone, melancholy and depressed, hs 
 was indulging, as if to exercise his will, in one of those ter- 
 rible inward passions — king's passions — which create events 
 when they break out, and which, with Louis XIV,, thanks 
 to his astonishing command over himself, became such 
 benign tempests that his most violent, his only passion, 
 that which F. Simon mentions with astonishment, was that 
 famous passion of anger which he exhibited fifty years later, 
 on the occasion of a little concealment of the Due de 
 Maine, and which had for result a shower of blows inflicted 
 with a cane upon the back of a poor valet who had stolen a 
 biscuit. The young king then was, as we have seen, prey 
 to a double excitement; and he said to himself as he looked 
 in a glass, "Oh, king! king by name, and not in fact; phan- 
 tom, vain phantom as thou art! inert statue, which has no 
 other power than that of provoking salutations from cour- 
 tiers, when wilt thou be able to raise thy velvet arm, or 
 clinch thy silken hand? when wilt thou be able to open for 
 any purpose, but to sigh or smile, lips condemned to the 
 motionless stupidity of the marbles of thy gallery?" 
 
 Then, passing his hand over his brow, and feeling the 
 want of air, he approached a window, whence he saw below 
 some cavaliers talking together, and groups of the timidly 
 curious. These cavaliers were a fraction of the watch; the 
 groups were busy portions of the people, to whom a king is 
 always a curious thing, as a rhinoceros, a crocodile, or a 
 serpent is. He struck his brow with his open hand, crying: 
 "King of France! what a title! People of France! what a 
 heap of creatures! I have just returned to my Louvre; my 
 horses, just unharnessed, are still smoking, and I have 
 created interest enough to induce scarcely twenty persons 
 to look at me as I passed. Twenty! what do I say? no; there 
 were not twenty anxious to see the King of France. There 
 are not even ten archers to guard my place of residence; 
 archers, people, guards, all are at the Palais Royal. 
 Why, my good God! have not I, the king, the right to ask 
 of you all that?" 
 
 "Because," said a voice, replying to his, and which 
 
THE VICOMTE DE JIRAGELONN'E. 301 
 
 sounded from the other side of the door of the cabinet, 
 "because at the Palais Royal there is all the gold — that is 
 to say, all the power of him who desires to reign. " 
 
 Louis turned sharply round. The voice which had pro- 
 nounced these words was that of Anne of Austria. The 
 king started, and advanced toward her. "I hope," said 
 he, "your majesty has paid no attention to the vain dec- 
 lamations with which the solitude and disgust familiar to 
 kings give the idea to the happiest characters?" 
 
 "I only paid attention to one thing, my son, and that 
 was, that you were complaining." 
 
 "Who, I? Not at all," said Louis XIV.; "no, in truth, 
 you mistake, madame." 
 
 "What were you doing, then?" 
 
 "I thought I was under the ferule of my professor, and 
 was developing a subject of amplification." 
 
 "My son," replied Anne of Austria, shaking her head, 
 "you are wrong not to trust to my word; you are wrong not 
 to grant me your confidence. A day will come, perhaps 
 quickly, wherein you will have occasion to remember that 
 axiom: God is universal power; and they alone are kings 
 who are all-powerful." 
 
 "Your intention," continued the king, "was not, how- 
 ever, to cast blame upon the rich of this age, was it?" 
 
 "No," said the queen warmly; "no, sire; they who are 
 rich in this age, under your reign, are rich because you have 
 been willing they should be so; and I entertain for them 
 neither malice nor envy. They have, without doubt, 
 served your majesty sufficiently well for your majesty to 
 have permitted them to reward themselves. That is what I 
 mean to say by the words for which you reproach me." 
 
 "God forbid, madame, that I should ever reproach my 
 mother with anything." 
 
 "Besides," continued Anne of Austria, "the Lord never 
 gives the goods of this world but for a season; the Lord — as 
 correctives to honor and riches — the Lord has placed suffer- 
 ings, sickness, and death; and no one," added she, with a 
 melancholy smile, which proved she made the application 
 of the funeral precept to herself, "no one can take their 
 wealth or their greatness with them into the tomb. It 
 thence results that the young gather the abundant harvest 
 prepared for them by the old." 
 
 Louis listened with increased attention to the words 
 which Anne of Austria, no doubt, pronounced with a view 
 of consoling him. 
 
302 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''Madame," said ie, looking earnestly at his mothef, 
 "one would almost^ In truth, say you had something else to 
 announce to me." 
 
 "I have absolutely nothing, my son; only you cannot have 
 failed to remark that Monsieur le Cardinal is very ill." 
 
 Louis looked at his mother, expecting some emotion in 
 her voice, some sorrow in her countenance. The face of 
 Anne of Austria was apparently little changed, but that 
 was from a suffering of quite a personal character. Perhaps 
 the alteration was caused by the cancer which had begun 
 to consume her breast. 
 
 "Yes, madame," said the king, "yes, Monsieur de Maz- 
 arin is very ill." 
 
 "And it would be a great loss to the kingdom if his em- 
 inence were to be called away by God. Is not that yoir 
 opinion as well as mine, my son?" said the queen 
 
 "Yes, madame; yes, certainly, it would be a great loss 
 for the kingdom," said Louis, coloring; "but the peril does 
 not seem to me to be so great; besides, Monsieur le Car- 
 dinal is young yet." 
 
 The king had scarcely ceased speaking when an usher 
 lifted the tapestry, and stood with a paper in his hand, 
 waiting for the king to interrogate him. 
 
 "What have you there?" asked the king. 
 
 "A message from Monsieur de Mazarirf," replied the 
 usher. 
 
 "Give it to me," said the king; and he took the paper. 
 But at the moment he was about to open it there was a 
 great noise in the gallery, the antechamber, and the court. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" said Louis XIV., who, without doubt, knew 
 what the triple noise meant. "What did I say, there was 
 but one king in France? I was mistaken; there are two." 
 
 As he spoke or thought thus, the door opened, and the 
 surintendant of the finances, Fouquet, appeared before his 
 nominal master. It was he who made the noise in the ante- 
 chamber, it was his horses that made the noise in the court. 
 In addition to all this, a loud murmur was heard along his 
 passage, which did not die away till some time after he had 
 passed. It was this murmur which Louis XIV. so much 
 regretted not hearing as he passed, and dying away behind 
 him. 
 
 "He is not precisely a king, as you fancy," said Anne of 
 Austria to her son; "he is only a man that is much too rich 
 -that is all." 
 
 While saying these words » bitter feeling gave to the 
 
THE VtCOMTE T>E ERAGELOtftfE.' 303 
 
 words of the queen a most malicious expression; whereas 
 the brow of the king, calm and self-possessed, on the con- 
 trary, was without the slightest wrinkle. He nodded, 
 therefore, familiarly to Fouquet, while he continued to un- 
 fold the paper given to him by the usher. Fouquet per- 
 ceived this movement, and with a politeness at once easy 
 and respectful, advanced toward the queen, so as not to 
 disturb the king. Louis had opened the paper, and yet he 
 die! not read it. He listened to Fouquet making the most 
 charming compliments to the queen upon her hand and 
 arm. The frown of Anne of Austria relaxed a little; she 
 even almost smiled. Fouquet perceived that the king, in- 
 stead of reading, was attending to him; he turned half 
 round, therefore, and thus, while continuing to be engaged 
 with the queen, faced the king. 
 
 "You know, Monsieur Fouquet," said Louis, "how ill 
 Monsieur Mazarin is?" 
 
 "Yes, sire, I know that," said Fouquet; "in fact, he is 
 very ill. I was at my country-house of Vaux when the news 
 reached me; and the affair seemed so pressing that I left at 
 once." 
 
 "You left Vaux this- evening, monsieur?" 
 
 "An hour and a half ago, yes, your majesty," said Fou- 
 quet, consulting a watch richly ornamented with diamonds. 
 
 "An hour and a half!" said the king, still able to restrain 
 his anger, but not to conceal his astonishment. 
 
 "I understand you, sire. Your majesty doubts my word, 
 and you have reason to do so; but I have really come so 
 quickly, though it is wonderful. I have received from 
 England three pairs of very fast horses, as I had been 
 assured. They were placed at distances of four leagues 
 apart, and I have tried them this evening. They really 
 brought me from Vaux to the Louvre in an hour and a 
 half, so your majesty sees I have not been cheated." 
 
 The queen -mother smiled with something like secret 
 snvy. But Fouquet caught her thought. 
 
 "Thus, madame," he promptly said, "such horses are 
 made for kings, not for subjects; for kings ought never to 
 yield to any one in anything." 
 
 The king looked up. 
 
 "And yet," interrupted Anne of Austria, "you are not a 
 king, that I know of, Monsieur Fouquet." 
 
 "Truly not, madame; therefore the horses only wait the 
 orders of his majesty to enter the royal stables; and if I 
 illowed myself to try them, it was only out of the fear oi 
 
304 THE VICOMTE BE BKAGELOKNE. 
 
 offering to the king anything that was not positively won- 
 derful. " 
 
 The king became quite red. 
 
 "You know, Monsieur Fouquet," said the queen, "that 
 at the court of France it is not the custom for a subject to 
 offer anything to his king." 
 
 Louis started. 
 
 'I hoped, madame," said Fouquet, much agitated, "that 
 my love for his majesty, my incessant desire to please him, 
 would serve as a counterpoise to that reason of etiquette. 
 It was not, besides, so much a present that I permitted my- 
 self to offer, as the tribute I paid." 
 
 "Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet," said the king politely, 
 "and I am gratified by your intention, for I love good 
 horses; but you know I am not very rich; you, who are my 
 surintendant of finances, know it better than any one else. 
 I am not able, then, however willing I may be, to purchase 
 such a valuable set of horses." 
 
 Fouquet darted a look of haughtiness at the queen- 
 mother, who appeared to triumph at the false position the 
 minister had got into, and replied: 
 
 "Luxury is the virtue of kings, sire; it is luxury which 
 makes them resemble God; it is by luxury they are more 
 than other men. With luxury a king nourishes his sub- 
 jects, and honors them. Under the mild beat of this 
 luxury of kings springs the luxury of individuals, a source 
 of riches for the people. His majesty, by accepting the 
 gift of these six incomparable horses, would have piqued 
 the self-love of the breeders of our country, of Limousin, 
 Perche, and Normandy; and this emulation would have been 
 beneficial to all. But the king is silent, and consequently, 
 I am condemned." 
 
 During this speech, Louis was unconsciously folding 
 and unfolding Mazarin's paper, upon which he had not cast 
 his eyes. At length he glanced upon it, and uttered a faint 
 cry at reading the first line. 
 
 "What is the matter, my son?" asked the queen anx- 
 iously, and going toward the king. 
 
 "From the cardinal," replied the king, continuing to 
 read; "yes, yes, it is really from him." 
 
 "Is he worse, then?" 
 
 "Read!" said the king, passing the parchment to his 
 mother, as if he thought that nothing less than reading 
 would convince Anne of Austria of a thing so astonishing as 
 was conveyed in that paper- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 305 
 
 Anne of Austria read in her turn, and as she read, her 
 eyes sparkled with a joy the more lively for her uselessly 
 endeavoring to hide it, which attracted the attention of 
 Fouquet. 
 
 "Oh! a regularly drawn-up deed of donation/' said she. 
 
 "A donation?" repeated Fouquet. 
 
 "Yes," said the king, replying pointedly to the surin- 
 tendant of finances, "yes, at the point of death, Monsieur 
 le Cardinal makes me a donation of all his wealth." 
 
 "Forty millions!" cried the queen. "Oh, my son! this 
 is very noble on the part of Monsieur le Cardinal, and will 
 silence all malicious rumors; forty millions scraped together 
 slowly, coming back all in one heap to the treasury! It is 
 the act of a faithful subject and a good Christian." And 
 having once more cast her eyes over the act, she restored it 
 to Louis XIV., whom the announcement of the sum quite 
 agitated. Fouquet had made some steps backward, and 
 remained silent. The king looked at him, and held the 
 paper out to him, in his turn. The surintendant only be- 
 stowed a haughty look of a second upon it; then, bowing: 
 
 "Yes, sire," said he, "a donation, I see." 
 
 "You must reply to it, my son," said Anne of Austria; 
 "you must reply to it, and that immediately." 
 
 "But how, madame?" 
 
 "By a visit to the cardinal." 
 
 "Why, it is but an hour since I left his eminence," said 
 the king. 
 
 "Write, then, sire." 
 
 "Write!" said the young king, with evident repugnance. 
 
 "Well," replied Anne of Austria, "it seems to me, my 
 son, that a man who has just made such a present has a 
 good right to expect to be thanked for it with some degree 
 of promptitude." 
 
 Then turning toward Fouquet: "Is not that likewise 
 your opinon, monsieur?" 
 
 "That the present is worth the trouble? Yes, madame," 
 said Fouquet, with a lofty air that did not escape the king. 
 
 "Accept, then, and thank him," insisted Anne of Austria. 
 
 "What says Monsieur Fouquet?" asked Louis XIV. 
 
 "Does your majesty wish to know my opinion?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Thank him, sire " 
 
 "Ah!" said the queen. 
 
 "But do not accept," continued Fouquet. 
 
 "And why not?" asked the queen. 
 
306 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "You have yourself said why, madame," replied Fou- 
 quet; "because kings ought not and cannot receive presents 
 from their subjects." 
 
 The king remained mute between these two so opposita 
 opinions. 
 
 "But forty millions!" said Anne of Austria, in the same 
 tone as that in which, at a later period, poor Marie Antoi- 
 nette replied: "You will tell me as much!" 
 
 "I know," said Fouquet, laughing, "forty millions are a 
 good round sum — such a sum as could almost tempt a royal 
 conscience." 
 
 "But, monsieur," said Anne of Austria, "instead of per- 
 suading the king not to receive this present, recall to his 
 majesty's mind, you, whose duty it is, that these forty 
 millions are a fortune to him." 
 
 "It is precisely, madame, because these forty millions 
 would be a fortune that I will say to the king, 'Sire, if it be 
 not decent for a king to accept from a subject six horses, 
 worth twenty thousand livres, it would be disgraceful for 
 him to owe a fortune to another subject, more or less 
 scrupulous in the choice of the materials which contributed 
 to the building up of that fortune.' " 
 
 "It ill becomes you, monsieur, to give your king a lesson," 
 said Anne of Austria; "rather procure him forty millions to 
 replace those you make him lose." 
 
 "The king shall have them whenever he wishes," said 
 the surintendant of the finances, bowing. 
 
 "Yes, by oppressing the people," said the queen. 
 
 "And were they not oppressed, madame," replied Fou- 
 quet, "when they were made to sweat the forty millions 
 given by this deed? Furthermore, his majesty has asked 
 my opinion. I have given it; if his majesty asks my con- 
 currence, it will be the same." 
 
 "Nonsense! accept, my son, accept," said Anne of 
 Austria. "You are above reports and interpretations." 
 
 "Eefuse, sire," said Fouquet. "As long as a king lives, 
 he has no other measure but his conscience — no other judge 
 but his own desires; but when dead, he has posterity, which 
 applauds or accuses." 
 
 "Thank you, mother," replied Louis, bowing respectfully 
 to the queen. "Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet," said he, 
 dismissing the surintendant civilly. 
 
 "Do you accept?" asked Anne of Austria, once more. 
 
 "I will consider of it," replied he, looking at Fouquet. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 AGONY. 
 
 The day after the deed of donation had been sent to the 
 king, the cardinal caused himself to be transported to Vin- 
 cennes. The king and the court followed him thither. 
 The last flashes of this torch still cast splendor enough , 
 around to absorb in its radiations all other lights. Besides, 
 as it has been seen, the faithful satellite of his minister, 
 young Louis XIV., marched to the last minute in accord- 
 ance with his gravitation. The disease, as Guenaud had 
 predicted, had become worse; it was no longer an attack of 
 gout, it was an attack of death; then there was another thing 
 which made that agony more agonizing still — and that was 
 the agitation introduced into his mind by the donation he 
 had sent to the king, and which, according to Colbert, the 
 king ought to send back, not accepted, to the cardinal. 
 The cardinal had, as we have said, great faith in the pre- 
 dictions of his secretary; but the sum was a large one, and 
 whatever might be the genius of Colbert, from time to time, 
 the cardinal thought to himself that the Theatin also might 
 possibly have been mistaken, and that there was at least as 
 much chance of his not being damned as there was that 
 Louis XIV. would send him back his millions. Besides, 
 the longer the donation was in coming back, the more 
 Mazarin thought that forty millions were worth a little risk, 
 particularly of so hypothetic a thing as the soul. Mazarin, 
 in his character of cardinal and prime minister, was almost 
 an atheist, and quite a materialist. Every time that the 
 • door opened he turned sharply round toward that door, ex- 
 pecting to see the return of his unfortunate donation; then, 
 deceived in his hope, he threw himself down again in his 
 bed with a sigh, and found his pains so much the greater 
 for having forgotten them for an instant. Anne of Austria 
 had also followed the cardinal; her heart, though age had 
 made it selfish, could not help evincing toward the dying 
 man a sorrow which he owed him as a wife, according to 
 some; and as a sovereign, according to others. She had, 
 in some sort, put on mourning in her countenance before- 
 hand, and all the court wore it as she did. Louis, in order 
 not to show on his face what was passing at the bottom of 
 his heart, persisted in remaining in his own apartments, 
 where his nurse alone kept him company; the more he 
 reckoned upon the approach of the time when all constraint 
 
308 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 would be at an end, the more humble and patient he was, 
 falling back upon himself, as all strong men do when they 
 form great designs, in order to gain more spring at the 
 decisive moment. Extreme unction had been administered 
 to the cardinal, who, faithful to his habits of dissimulation, 
 struggled against appearances, and even against reality, 
 receiving company in his bed, as if only afflicted with a 
 temporary complaint. Guenaud, on his part, preserved 
 profound secrecy; fatigued with visits and questions, he 
 unswered nothing but "his eminence is still full of youth 
 and strength, but God wills that which He wills, and when 
 He has decided that man is to be laid low, he will be laid 
 low." These words, which he scattered with a sort of dis- 
 cretion, reserve, and preference, were commented upon 
 earnestly by two persons — the king and the cardinal. Maz- 
 arin, notAvithstanding the prophecy of Guenaud, still lured 
 himself, or, rather, so well played his part, that the most 
 cunning, when saying he lured himself, proved that they 
 were his dupes. Louis, absent from the cardinal two days; 
 Louis, with his eyes fixed upon that same donation which' so 
 constantly preoccupied the cardinal; Louis did not exactly 
 know how to make out Mazarin's conduct. The son of 
 Louis XIII., following the paternal traditions, had, to that 
 time, been so little of a king that, while ardently desiring 
 royalty, he desired it with that terror which always accom- 
 panies the unknown. Thus, having formed his resolution, 
 which, besides, he communicated to nobody, he determined 
 to have an interview with Mazarin. It was Anne of Aus- 
 tria, who, constant in her attendance upon the cardinal, 
 first heard this proposition of the king's, and who trans- 
 mitted it to the dying man, whom it greatly agitated. Foi 
 what purpose could Louis wish for an interview? Was it 
 50 return the deed, as Colbert had said he would? Was it 
 to keep it, after thanking him, as Mazarin thought he 
 would? Nevertheless, as the dying man felt that the un- 
 certainty increased his torments, he did not hesitate an 
 instant. 
 
 "His majesty will be welcome — yes, very welcome," cried 
 he, making Colbert, who was seated at the foot of the bed, 
 u sign which the latter comprehended perfectly. "Ma- 
 dame," continued Mazarin, "will your majesty be good 
 enough to assure the king yourself of the truth of what I 
 have just said?" 
 
 Anne of Austria rose; she herself was anxious to have the 
 question of the forty millions settled — the question which 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 309 
 
 seemed to lie heavy on the mind of everybody. Anne of 
 Austria went out; Mazarin made a great effort, and, raising 
 himself up toward Colbert, "Well, Colbert," said he, "two 
 days have passed away — two mortal days — and, you see, 
 nothing is come back from yonder." 
 
 "Patience, monseigneur," said Colbert. 
 
 "Art thou mad, thou wretch? Thou advisest me tc 
 have patience! Oh, in sad truth, Colbert, thou art laugh- 
 ing at me. I am dying, and thou callest out to me t(> 
 wait!" 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Colbert, with his habitual coolness, 
 "it is impossible that things should not fall out as I have 
 said. His majesty is coming to see you, and, no doubt, he 
 brings back the deed himself." 
 
 "Do you think so? Well, I, on the contrary, am sure 
 that his majesty is coming to thank me." > 
 
 At this moment Anne of Austria returned. On her way 
 to the apartments of her son she had met with a new em- 
 piric. This concerned a powder which, it was said, had 
 power to save the cardinal; and she brought a portion of 
 this powder with her. But this was not what Mazarin ex- 
 pected; therefore he would not even look at it, declaring 
 that life was not worth the pains that were taken to pre- 
 serve it. But, while professing this philosophical axiom, 
 his long-confined secret escaped him at last. 
 
 "That, madame," said he, "that is not the interesting 
 part of my situation. I made the king, now two days ago, 
 a little donation; up to this time, from delicacy, no doubt, 
 his majesty has not condescended to say anything about it; 
 but the time for explanation is come; and I implore your 
 majesty to tell me if the king has made up his mind on that 
 matter." 
 
 Anne of Austria was about to reply, when Mazarin 
 stopped her. 
 
 "The truth, madame," said he — "in the name of Heaven, 
 the truth! Do not flatter a dying man with a hope that 
 may prove vain." There he stopped, a look from Colbert 
 telling him that he was on a wrong tack. 
 
 "I know," said Anne of Austria, taking the cardinal's 
 hand, "I know that you have generously made, not a little 
 donation, as you with so much modesty call it, but a mag- 
 nificent gift. I know how painful it would be to you if the 
 king " 
 
 Mazarin listened, dying as he was, as ten living men coul<$ 
 not have listened. 
 
310 THE riCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "That the king — " replied he. 
 
 "That the king," continued Anne of Austria, 5 shoulc 
 not freely accept what you offer so nobly." 
 
 Mazarin allowed himself to sink back upon his pillow like 
 Pantaloon; that is to say, with all the despair of a man who 
 yields to the tempest; but he still preserved sufficient 
 strength and presence of mind to cast upon Colbert one of 
 those looks which are well worth a hundred sonnets, which 
 is to say, ten long poems. 
 
 "Should you not," added the queen, "have considered 
 the refusal of the king as a sort of insult?" Mazarin rolled 
 his head about upon his pillow, without articulating a sylla- 
 ble. The queen was deceived, or feigned to be deceived, 
 by this demonstration. 
 
 "Therefors," resumed she, "I have circumvented him 
 with good counsels; and ascertain minds, jealous, no doubt, 
 of the glory you are about to acquire by this generosity, 
 have endeavored to prove to the king that he ought not to 
 accept of this donation, I have struggled in your favor, and 
 so well have I struggled that you will not have, I hope, 
 that disagreeable to undergo. 
 
 "Ah!" murmured Mazarin, with languishing eyes, "ah, 
 that is a service I shall never forget for a single minute 
 during the few hours I have to live." 
 
 "I must admit," continued the queen, "that it was not 
 without trouble I rendered it to your eminence." 
 
 "Ah, peste! I believe that. Oh! oh!" 
 
 "Good God! what is the matter?" 
 
 : 'I am burning." 
 
 "Do you suffer much?" 
 
 "As much as one of the damned." 
 
 Colbert would have wished to have sunk through the 
 flooring. 
 
 "So, then," resumed Mazarin, "your majesty thinks that 
 the king" — he stopped several seconds — "that the king is 
 coming here to offer me some small thanks?" 
 
 "I think so," said the queen. Mazarin annihilated Col- 
 bert with his last look. 
 
 At that moment the ushers announced that the king was 
 in the antechambers, which were filled with people. This 
 announcement produced a stir of which Colbert took advan- 
 tage to escape by the door of the nielle. Anne of Austria 
 arose, and awaited her son, standing. Louis XIV. ap- 
 peared at the threshold of the door, with his eyes fixed upon 
 the dying man, who did not even think it worth while to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 311 
 
 jotice that majesty from which he thought he had nothing 
 more to expect. An usher placed a fauteuil close to the 
 bed. Louis bowed to his mother, then to the cardinal, and 
 eat down. The queen took a seat in her turn. Then, as 
 the king had looked behind him, the usher understood that 
 look, and made a sign to the courtiers who filled up the 
 doorway to be gone, which they instantly complied with. 
 Silence fell upon the chamber with the velvet curtains. 
 The king, still very young, and very timid in the presence 
 of him who had been his master from his birth, still re- 
 spected him much, particularly now, surrounded with the 
 supreme majesty of death. He did not dare, therefore, to 
 commence the conversation, feeling that every word must 
 have its bearing, not only upon things of this world, but of 
 the next. As to the cardinal, at that moment he had but 
 one thought — his donation. It was not physical pain which 
 gave him that air of despondency and that lugubrious look; 
 it was the expectation of the thanks that were about to 
 issue from the king's mouth, and cut off all hope of resti- 
 tution. Mazarin was the first to break the silence. 
 
 "Is your majesty come to make any stay at Vincennes?' , 
 said he. 
 
 Louis made an affirmative sign with his head. 
 
 "That is a gracious favor," continued Mazarin, "granted 
 to a dying man, and which will render death more mild to 
 him." 
 
 "I hope," replied the king, "I am come to visit, not a 
 dying man, but a sick man, susceptible of cure." Mazarin 
 replied by a movement of the head. 
 
 "Your majesty is very kind; but I know more than you 
 on that subject. The last visit, sire," said he, "the last 
 visit." 
 
 "If it were so, Monsieur le Cardinal," said Louis, "I 
 would come a last time to ask the counsels of a guide to 
 whom I owe everything." 
 
 Anne of Austria was a woman; she could not restrain her 
 tears. Louis showed himself much affected, and Mazarin 
 still more than his two guests, but from very different 
 motives. Here the silence returned. The queen wiped 
 her eyes, and the king resumed his firmness. 
 
 "I was saying," continued the king, "that I owed much 
 to your eminence." The eyes of the cardinal devoured the 
 king, for he felt the great moment was come. "And." 
 continued Louis, "the principal object of my visit was to 
 offer you very sincere thanks for the last evidence of friend- 
 ship you have kindly sent me." 
 
312 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELOKN'E. 
 
 The cheeks of the cardinal sank in, his lips partially 
 opened, and the most lamentable sigh he had ever uttered*, 
 was about to issue from his chest. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "I may have despoiled my poor family; 
 I may have ruined all that belong to me, which may be r 
 imputed to me as an error; but, at least, it shall not be said , 
 of me that I have refused to sacrifice everything to my L 
 king." 
 
 Anne of Austria's tears flowed afresh. 
 
 "My dear Monsieur Mazarin," said the king, in a more 
 serious tone than might have been expected from his youth, 
 "you have misunderstood me apparently." 
 
 Mazarin raised himself upon his elbow. 
 
 "I have no purpose to despoil your dear family, nor to 
 ruin your servants. Oh, no, that shall never be!" 
 
 "Humph!" thought Mazarin, "he is going to restore me 
 some bribe; let us get the largest piece out of the trap we 
 can." 
 
 "The king is going to be foolishly affected, and play the 
 generous," thought the queen; "he must not be allowed to 
 impoverish himself; such an opportunity for gaining a for-i 
 tune will never occur again." 
 
 "Sire," said the cardinal aloud, "my family is very 
 numerous, and my nieces will be destitute when I am gone." j 
 
 "Oh," interrupted the queen eagerly, "have no uneasi- 
 ness with respect to your family, dear Monsieur Mazarin; ' 
 we have no friends dearer than your friends; your nieces 
 shall be my children, the sisters of his majesty; and if a 
 favor be distributed in France it shall be to those you love." 
 
 "Smoke!" thought Mazarin, who knew better than any 
 one the faith that can be put in the promises of kings, j 
 Louis read the dying man's thought in his face. 
 
 "Be comforted, my dear Monsieur Mazarin," said he, 
 with a half-smile, sad beneath its irony; "the Mesdemoi- 
 selles de Mancini will lose, when losing you, their most 
 precious good; but they shall none the less be the richest 
 heiresses of France; and since you have been kind enough 
 to give me their dowry" — the cardinal was panting — "I 
 restore it to them," continued Louis, drawing from his 
 breast and holding toward the cardinal's bed the parchment 
 which contained the donation that, during two days, had 
 kept alive such tempests in the mind of Mazarin. 
 
 "What did I tell you, monseigneur?" murmured in the 
 rtielle a voice which passed away like a breath. 
 
 "Your majesty returns me my donation!" cried Mazarin, 
 so disturbed by joy as to forget his character of a benefactor. 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 313 
 
 "Your majesty rejects the forty millions!" cried Anne of 
 Austria, so stupefied as to forget her character of an afflicted 
 afe or queen. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Cardinal; yes, madame," replied Louis 
 |[IV., tearing the parchment which Mazarin had not yet 
 entured to clutch; "yes, I annihilate this deed which 
 ''espoiled a whole family. The wealth acquired by his em 
 lence in my service is his own wealth, and not mine." 
 
 "But, sire, does your majesty reflect," said Anne of 
 aistria, "that you have not ten thousand crowns in your 
 offers?" 
 
 "Madame, I have just performed my first royal action, 
 nd I hope it will worthily inaugurate my reign?" 
 ( "Ah! sire, you are right!" cried Mazarin; "that is truly 
 reat — that is truly generous which you have just done." 
 Vnd he looked, one after the other, at the pieces of the act 
 'oread over his bed, to assure himself that it was the orig- 
 lal and not a copy that had been torn. At length his 
 yes fell upon the fragment which bore his signature, and, 
 ^cognizing it, he sank back swooning on his bolster. 
 Inne of Austria, without strength to conceal her regret, 
 lised her hands and eyes toward heaven. 
 , "Oh, sire!" cried Mazarin, "be you blessed! My God! 
 (ay you be beloved by all my family. Per Bacclw ! if ever 
 \ij discontent comes to you on the part of those belonging 
 > me, sire, only frown, and I will rise from my tomb!" 
 \ This pantalonnade did not produce all the effect Mazarin 
 !ad reckoned upon. Louis had already passed to considera- 
 ons of a more elevated nature, and as to Anne of Austria, 
 hable to support, without abandoning herself to the anger 
 le felt burning within her, the magnanimity of her son 
 id the hypocrisy of the cardinal, she arose and left the 
 lamber, heedless of thus betraying the extent of her grief, 
 .azarin saw all this, and fearing that Louis XIV. might 
 ppent of his decision, he began, in order to draw attention 
 lother way, to cry out, as, at a later period, Scapin was to 
 ry out, in that sublime piece of pleasantry which the 
 orose and grumbling Boileau dared to reproach Moliere 
 ith. His cries, however, by degrees, became fainter; and 
 hen Anne of Austria left the apartment they ceased alto- 
 ither. 
 
 "Monsieur le Cardinal," said the king, "have you any 
 icommendations to make to me?" 
 
 "Sire," replied Mazarin, "you are already wisdom itself, 
 cudence personified; of your generosity I will not venture 
 
314 THE VICOMTB DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 to speak; that which you have just done exceeds all that 
 the most generous men of antiquity or of modern times 
 have ever done." 
 
 The king received this praise coldly. 
 
 "So you confine yourself, monsieur," said he, "to your 
 thanks — and your experience, much more extensive than 
 my wisdom, my prudence, or my generosity, does not 
 furnish me with a single piece of friendly advice to guide 
 my future." 
 
 Mazarin reflected for a moment. "You have just done 
 much for me, sire," said he; "that is, for mine." 
 
 "Say no more about that," said the king "Weil," con- 
 tinued Mazarin, "I will return you something in exchange 
 for these forty millions you have given up so royally." 
 Louis XIV., by a movement, indicated that these flatteries 
 were unpleasing to him. "I will give you a piece of ad- 
 vice," continued Mazarin; "yes, a piece of advice — adviee 
 more precious than the forty millions." 
 
 "Monsieur le Cardinal!" interrupted Louis. 
 
 "Sire, listen to this advice." 
 
 "I am listening." 
 
 "Come nearer, sire, for I am weak — nearer, sire, nearer." 
 
 The king bent over the dying man. "Sire," said Maz- 
 arin, in so low a tone that the breath qi his words arrived 
 only like a recommendation from the tomb in the attentive 
 ears of the king, "sire, never have a prime minister." 
 
 Louis drew back, astonished. The advice was a confes- 
 sion — a treasure, in fact, was that sincere confession of 
 Mazarin. The legacy of the cardinal to the young king 
 was composed of six words only, but those six words, as 
 Mazarin had said, were worth forty millions. Louis re- 
 mained for an instant confounded. As for Mazarin, he 
 appeared only to have said something quite natural. A 
 little scratching was heard along the curtains of the ruelle. 
 Mazarin understood. 
 
 "Yes, yes!" cried he warmly, "yes, sire, I recommend 
 you a wise man, an honest man, and a clever man." 
 
 "Tell me his name, Monsieur le Cardinal." 
 
 "His name is yet almost unknown, sire; it is Monsieur 
 Colbert, my intendant. Oh, try him," added Mazarin, in 
 an earnest voice; "all that he has predicted has come to 
 pass; he has a safe glance, he is never mistaken either in 
 things or in men — which is more surprising still. Sire, I 
 owe you much, but I think I acquit myself of all toward 
 you in giving you Monsieur Colbert." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 31o 
 
 "So be it." said Louis faintly, for, as Mazarin had said, 
 the name of Colbert was quite unknown to him, and lie 
 thought the enthusiasm of the cardinal partook of the 
 delirium of a dying man. The cardinal sank back on his 
 pillow. 
 
 ''For the present, adieu, sire — adieu," murmured Maz- 
 arin. "I am tired, and I have yet a rough journey to per- 
 form before I present myself to my new Master. Adieu, 
 sire." 
 
 The young king felt the tears rise to his eyes; he bent 
 over the dying man, already half a corpse, and then pre- 
 cipitately retired. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF COLBERT. 
 
 The whole night was passed in anguish, common to the 
 dying man and the king; the dying man expected his de- 
 liverance, the king expected his liberty. Louis did not go 
 to bed. An hour after leaving the chamber of the cardinal 
 he learned that the dying man, recovering a little strength, 
 had insisted upon being dressed, farded, and painted, and 
 seeing the embassadors. Like Augustus, he no doubt con- 
 sidered the world to be a great theater, and was desirous of 
 playing out the last act of the comedy. Anne of Austria 
 reappeared no more in the cardinal's apartments; she had 
 nothing more to do there. Propriety was the pretext for 
 her absence. On his part, the cardinal did not ask for her; 
 the advice the queen had given her son rankled in his 
 heart. Toward midnight, still painted, Mazarin's mortal 
 agony came on. He had revised his testament, and as this 
 testament was the exact expression of his will, and as he 
 feared that some interested influence might take advantage 
 of his weakness to make him change something in that tes- 
 tament, he had given orders to Colbert, who walked up and 
 down the corridor which led to the cardinal's bedchamber, 
 like the most vigilant of sentinels. The king, shut up in his 
 ownapartment,dispatched his nurse every hour to Mazarin's 
 chamber, with orders to bring him back the exact bulletin of 
 the cardinal's state. After having heard that Mazarin was 
 dressed, painted, and had seen the embassadors, Louis 
 heard that prayers for the dying were commenced for the 
 cardinal. At one o'clock in the morning, Uuenaud had 
 
316 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 administered the last remedy. This was a relic of the old 
 customs of that fencing time, which was abonl to disap] 
 to give place to another time, to believe that death could 
 be kept off by some good secret thrust. Mazarin, after 
 having taken the remedy, respired freely for nearly ten 
 minutes. He immediately gave orders that the news should 
 
 pread everywhere of a fortunate crisis. The king, 
 learning this, felt as if a cold sweat were passing over his 
 . _iimpse of the light of liberty; slavery 
 1 to him more dark and I ptable than ever 
 
 Bn the bulletin which followed entirely changed the 
 of things. Mazarin could no longer breathe at all, and 
 could scarcely follow the prayers which the cure of St. 
 Nicholas des Champs recited near him. The king resui 
 his agitated walk about his chamber, and consulted, as he 
 wall i from a casket of which he 
 
 alone had the key. A third time the nurse returned. M. de 
 Mazarin had just uttered a joke, and had ordered his 
 "Flora," by Titian, to be revarnished. At length, towi i 
 two o'clock in the morning, the king could no longer i 
 his weariness; he had not slept for twenty-four hours. 
 p, so powerful at his age. overcame him for about an 
 hour. But he did not go to bed for that hour; he slept iu 
 titeuil. About four o'clock his nurse awoke him by 
 entering the room. 
 
 "Well?" asked the king. 
 
 "Well, my dear sire," said the nurse, clasping her hands 
 with an air of commiseration. "Well, he is dead!" 
 
 The king arose at a bound, as if a steel spring had been 
 applied to his legs. 
 
 "Dead!" cried he. 
 
 "Alas! yes." 
 
 "Is it quite certain?" 
 
 'Yes." 
 
 "Official?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Has the news of it been made public?" 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 "Who told you, then, that the cardinal was dead?''" 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And was he sure of what he said?" 
 
 "He came out of the chamber, and had held a glass for 1 
 sornp minutes be-fore the rt:trd; rial's li', 1 ^" 
 
THE VICO.MTR Hi: i; ICAGELONNE. '>]'/ 
 
 <s Ah!''' said the king. "And what is become of Monsieur 
 Colbert?" 
 
 "He has just left the chamber of his eminence. " 
 
 "To go whither?" 
 
 "To follow me."' 
 
 "So that he is " 
 
 "There, my dear sire, waiting at your door, till it shall 
 be your good pleasure to receive him." 
 
 Louis ran to the door, opened it himself, and perceived 
 in the passage Colbert standing waiting. The king startec 
 at the sight of this statue, all lotl ' bla '. Colbert 
 bowing with profound respect, advanced two steps toward 
 his majesty. Louis re-entered his chamber, making Col- 
 bert a sign to follow him. Colbert entered; Louis dismissed 
 the nurse, who closed the door as she went out. Colbert 
 remained modestly standing near that door. 
 
 "What do you come to announce to me, monsieur?'' said 
 Louis, very much troubled at being thus surprised in his 
 private thoughts, which he could not completely conceal, 
 
 "That Monsieur le Cardinal has just expired, sir, and 
 that I bring your majesty his last adieu." 
 
 The king remained pensive for a minute; and during that 
 minute he looked attentively at Colbert; it was evident 
 that the cardinal's last words were in his mind. 
 
 "Are you, then, Monsieur Colbert?" asked he. 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "The faithful servant of his eminence, as his eminence 
 himself told me?" 
 
 "Yes. sire." 
 
 "The depositary of part of his secrets?" 
 
 "Of all of them." 
 
 "The friends and servants of his defunct eminence will 
 be dear to me, monsieur, and I shall take care that you are 
 placed in my offices," 
 
 Colbert bowed. 
 
 "You are a financier, monsieur I believe?" 
 
 "Yes. sire." 
 
 "And did Monsieur le Cardinal employ you in his steward- 
 ship?" 
 
 "I had that honor, sire." 
 
 "You never did anything personally foi my household, J 
 believe?" 
 
 "Pardon me, sire, it was I who "had the honor of ^'pp 
 Monsieu! !e Cardinal the idea oi an oonomy which puts 
 three h ii n die a thousand francs a vear into jO'ur majesty's 
 coffer*." 
 
318 THE VICOMTE BE SRAGELONN*. 
 
 "What economy was that, monsieur?" asked Louis XIV. 
 
 "Your majesty knows that the hundred Swiss have silver 
 lace on each side of their ribbons?" 
 
 "Doubtless." 
 
 "Well, sire, it was I who proposed that false silver lace 
 should be placed upon these ribbons; it could not be seen^ 
 and a hundred thousand crowns serve to feed a regiment 
 during six months; or is the price of ten thousand good 
 muskets; or is the value of a vessel of ten guns, ready for 
 sea." 
 
 "That is true," said Louis XIV., considering the per- 
 sonage more attentively; "and, mafoi ! there is an economy 
 well placed; besides it was ridiculous for soldiers to wear 
 the same lace as noblemen wear." 
 
 "I am happy to be approved of by your majesty." 
 
 "Is that the only appointment you held with the car- 
 dinal?" asked the king. 
 
 "It was I who was appointed to examine the accounts of 
 the surintendant, sire." 
 
 "Ah!" said Louis, who was about to dismiss Coibert, but 
 whom that word stopped. "Ah! it was you whom his em- 
 inence had charged to control Monsieur Fouquet, was it? 
 And the result of the examination?" 
 
 "Is that there is a deficit, sire; but if your majesty will 
 permit me " 
 
 "Speak, Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "I ought to give your majesty some explanations." 
 
 "Not at all, monsieur; it is you who have controlled 
 these accounts; give me the results." 
 
 "That is very easily done, sire; empty everywhere, money 
 nowhere." 
 
 "Beware, monsieur, you are roughly attacking the ad- 
 ministration of Monsieur Fouquet, who, nevertheless, I 
 have heard say is an able man." 
 
 Colbert colored, and then became pale, for he felt that 
 from that minute he entered a struggle with a man whose 
 power almost equaled the power of him who had just died. 
 
 "Yes, sire, a very able man," repeated Colbert, bowing. 
 
 "But if Monsieur Fouquet is an able man, and, in spite 
 of that ability, if money be wanting, whose fault is it?" 
 
 "I do not accuse, sire, I verify." 
 
 "That is well; make out your accounts, and present them 
 vO me. There is a deficit, do you say? A deficit may be 
 temporary; credit returns and funds are restored." 
 
 "No, sire.' ' 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOHHE. 319 
 
 "Upon this year, perhaps, I understand that; "but upon 
 next year?" 
 
 "Next year is eaten as bare as the current year/' 
 
 "But, the year after, then?" 
 
 "Like next year." 
 
 "What do you tell me, Monsieur Colbert?" 
 
 *'I say there are four years engaged beforehand.* 1 
 
 "They must have a loan, then." 
 
 ''They must have three, sire." 
 
 "I will create offices to make them resign, and the money 
 of the posts shall be paid into the treasury." 
 
 "Impossible, sire, for there have already been creations 
 upon creations of offices, the provisions of which are given 
 in blank, so that the purchasers enjoy them without filling 
 them. That is why your majesty cannot make them re- 
 sign. Further, upon each agreement Monsieur Fouquet 
 has made an abatement of a third, so that the people have 
 been plundered, without your majesty profiting by it. Let 
 your majesty set down clearly your thought, and tell me 
 what you wish me to explain." 
 
 "You are right; clearness is what you wish, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes, sire, clearness. God is God, above all things, be- 
 cause He made light." 
 
 "Well, for example," resumed Louis XIV., "if to-day, 
 the cardinal being dead, and I being king, I wanted money?" 
 
 "Your majesty would not have any." 
 
 "Oh! that is strange, monsieur! How, my surintendant 
 would not find me any money?" 
 
 Colbert shook his large head. 
 
 "How is that?" said the king; "are the revenues of the 
 state so much in debt that there is no longer any revenues?" 
 
 '"Yes, sire, to that extent." 
 
 The king started. "Explain me that, Monsieur Colbert," 
 added he, with a frown. "If it be so, I will get together 
 the ordonnunces to obtain from the holders a discharge, 
 liquidation at a cheap rate," 
 
 "Impossible; for the ordonnances have been convert: 3 
 into bills, which bills, for the convenience of return an^- 
 facility of transaction, are divided into so many parts tht. 
 the originals can no longer be recognized." 
 
 Louis, very much agitated, walked about still frowning. 
 "But, if this were as you say, Monsieur Colbert," said he. 
 stopping all at once, "I should be ruined before I begin to 
 reign." 
 
 "You are, in fact, sire," said the impassible caster-up of 
 figures. 
 
320 THE VICOMTB PE BRAOELONNE. 
 
 "Well, but yet, monsieur, the money is somewhere." 
 
 "Yes, sire, and even as a beginning. I bring your majesty 
 a note of funds which Monsieur le Cardinal Mazarin was 
 not willing to set down in his testament, neither in any act 
 whatever, but which he contided to me." 
 
 "To you?" 
 
 "Yes, sire, with an injunction to remit it to your 
 majesty." 
 
 "What! besides the forty millions of the testament?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "Monsieur de Mazarin had still other funds?" 
 
 Colbert bowed. 
 
 "Why, that man was a gulf!" murmured the king. 
 "Monsieur de Mazarin on one side, Monsieur Fouquet on 
 the other — more than a hundred millions, perhaps, between 
 them! No wonder my coffers should be empty!" 
 
 Colbert waited without stirring. 
 
 "And is the sum you bring me worth the trouble?" asked 
 ■ Jie king. 
 
 "Yes, sire, it is a round sum." 
 
 "Amounting to how much?'* 
 
 "To thirteen millions of livres, sire." 
 
 "Thirteen millions!" cried Louis, trembling with joy, 
 'do you say thirteen millions, Monsieur Colbert?" 
 
 "I said thirteen millions, yes, your majesty. 1 ' 
 
 "Of which everybody is ignorant?" 
 
 "Of which everybody is ignorant." 
 
 "Which are in your hands?" 
 
 "In my hands, yes, sire." 
 
 "And which I can have?" 
 
 "Within two hours, sire." 
 
 "But where are they, then?" 
 
 "In the cellar of a house which the cardinal possessed in 
 the city, and which he was so kind as to leave me by a par- 
 ticular clause of his will." 
 
 "You are acquainted with the cardinal's will, then?" 
 
 "I have a duplicate of it, signed by his hand." 
 
 "A duplicate?" 
 
 "Yes, sire, and here it is." Colbert drew the deed 
 quietly from his pocket, and showed it to the king. The 
 king read the article relative to the donation of the house. 
 
 "But," said he, "there is no question here but of the 
 house; there is nothing said of the money." 
 
 "Your pardon, she, it is in my conscience." 
 
 "And Monsieur Mazarin has intrusted ; t to vou?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BllAGELONNE. 321 
 
 "Why not, sire?" 
 
 "He! a man mistrustful of everybody?" 
 
 "He was not so of me, sire, as your majesty may perceive." 
 
 Louis fixed his eyes with admiration upon that vulgar but 
 expressive face. 
 
 "You are an honest man, Monsieur Colbert," said the 
 king. 
 
 "That is not a virtue, it is a duty," replied Colbert 
 coolly. 
 
 "But," added Louis, "does not the money belong to the 
 family?" 
 
 "If this money belonged to the family, it would be dis- 
 posed of in the testament, as the rest of his fortune is. If 
 this money belonged to the family, I, who drew up the 
 deed of donation in favor of your majesty, should have 
 added the sum of thirteen millions to that of forty millions 
 which was offered to you." 
 
 "How!" exclaimed Louis XIV., "was it you who drew 
 up the deed of donation?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "And yet the cardinal loved you?" added the king 
 ingenuously. 
 
 "I had assured his eminence you would by no means 
 accept the gift," said Colbert, in that same quiet manner 
 we have described, and which, even in the common habits 
 of life, had something solemn in it. Louis passed his hand 
 over his brow. 
 
 "Oh! how young I am," murmured he, "to have the 
 command of men." 
 
 Colbert waited the end of this interior monologue. He 
 saw Louis raise his head. 
 
 "A*, what hour shall I, send the money to your majesty?" 
 asked he. 
 
 "To-night, at eleven o'clock; I desire that nc one may 
 know that I possess this money." 
 
 Colbert made no more reply than if the tiling had not 
 Deen said to him. 
 
 "Is the amount in ingots or coined gold?" 
 
 "In coined gold, sire." 
 
 "That is well." 
 
 "Where shall I send it to?" 
 
 "To the Louvre. Thank you, Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 Colbert bowed and retired. 
 
 "Thirteen millions!" exclaimed Louis, as soon as he was 
 alone. "This must be a dream!''' 
 
322 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Then he allowed his head to sink between his hands, as 
 if he were really asleep. But at the end of a moment he 
 arose, and opening the window violently, he bathed his 
 burning brow in the keen morning air, which brought to 
 his senses the scent of the trees and the perfume of flowers. 
 A splendid dawn was rising in the horizon, and the first 
 rays of the sun inundated with flame the brow of the young 
 
 kin s- 
 
 ''This dawn is that of my reign!" murmured Louis XIV. 
 ''Is it a presage that you send me, all-powerful God?" 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF THE ROYALTY OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 In the morning the news of the death of the cardinal 
 was spread through the castle, and thence speedily reached 
 the city. The ministers, Fouquet, Lyonne, and Letellier 
 entered la salle des seances to hold a council. The king 
 sent for them immediately. 
 
 "Messieurs," said he, "as long as Monsieur le Cardinal 
 lived I allowed him to govern my affairs; but now, I mean 
 to govern them myself. You will give me your advice 
 when I shall ask it. You may go." 
 
 The ministers looked at one another with surprise. If 
 they concealed a smile, it was with a great effort, for they 
 knew that the prince, brought up in absolute ignorance of 
 business, by this took upon himself a burden much too 
 heavy for his strength. Fouquet took leave of his colleagues 
 upon the stairs, saying: 
 
 "Messieurs, there will be so much the less labor for us." 
 
 And he got gayly into his carriage. The others, a little 
 uneasy at the turn things had taken, went back to Paris 
 together. Toward ten o'clock, the king repaired to the 
 apartment of his mother, with whom he had a long and per- 
 fectly private conversation. After dinner he got into his 
 carriage, and went straight to the Louvre. There he re- 
 ceived much company, and took a degree of pleasure in 
 remarking the hesitation of all and the curiosity of each. 
 Toward evening he ordered the doors of the Louvre to be 
 closed, with the exception of one only, which opened to 
 the quay. He placed on duty at this point two hundred^ 
 Swiss, who did not speak a word of French, with orders to 
 admit all who carried packages, but no others; and by n« 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONffE. 323 
 
 means to allow any one to go out. At eleven o clock pre- 
 cisely he heard the rolling of a heavy carriage under the 
 arch, then of another, then of a third; after which the gate 
 grated upon its hinges to he closed. Soon after, somebody 
 scratched with their nail at the door of the cabinet. The 
 king opened it himself, and beheld Colbert, whose first 
 word was this: 
 
 "The money is in your majesty's cellar." 
 
 The king then descended and went himself to see the 
 barrels of specie, in gold and silver, which, under the direc- 
 tion of Colbert, four men had just rolled into a cellar of 
 which the king had given Colbert the key in the morning. 
 This review completed, Lonis returnd to his apartments, 
 followed by Colbert, who had not warmed his immovable 
 coldness with one ray of personal satisfaction. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, "what do you wish that I 
 should give you as a recompense for this devotedness and 
 probity?" 
 
 "Absolutely nothing, sire." 
 
 "How, nothing? Not even an opportunity of serving 
 me?" 
 
 "If your majesty were not to furnish me with that oppor- 
 tunity, I should not the less serve you. It is impossible for 
 me not to be the best servant of the king." 
 
 "You shall be intendant of the finances, Monsieur Col- 
 bert." 
 
 "But there is already a surintendant, sire." 
 
 "I know that." 
 
 "Sire, the surintendant of the finances is the most power- 
 ful man in the kingdom." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Louis, coloring, "do you think so?" 
 
 "He will crush me in a week, sire. "Your majesty gives 
 me a controle for which strength is indispensable. And 
 intendant under a surintendant — that is inferiority." 
 
 "You want support — you do not reckon upon me?" 
 
 "I had the honor of telling your majesty that during the 
 lifetime of Monsieur de Mazarin, Monsieur Fouquet was 
 the second man in the kingdom; now Monsieur de Mazarin 
 is dead, Monsieur Fouquet is become the first." 
 
 "Monsieur, I agree to what you told me of all things up 
 to to-day; but to-morrow, please to remember, I shall no 
 longer suffer it." 
 
 "Then I shall be of no use to your majesty?" 
 
 "'You are already, since you fea. to compromise yourself 
 in seiving me." 
 
324 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 "I only fear to be placed so that I cannot serve your 
 majesty." 
 
 "What do you wish, then?" 
 
 "I wish your majesty to allow me assistance in the labors 
 of the office of intendant." 
 
 "The post would lose its value." 
 
 "It would gain in security." 
 
 "Choose your colleagues." 
 
 "Messrs. Breteuil, Marin, Harvard." 
 
 "To-morrow the ordonnance shall appear." 
 
 "Sir, I thank you." 
 
 "Is that all you ask: 
 
 "No, sire; one thing more." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Allow me to compose a chamber of justice." 
 
 "What would this chamber of justice do?" 
 
 "Try the farmers-general and contractors who during ten 
 years have speculated." 
 
 "Well, but what would you do with them?" 
 
 "Hang two or three, and that would make the rest 
 disgorge." 
 
 "I cannot commence my reign with executions, Mon- 
 sieur Colbert." 
 
 "On the contrary, sire, in order not to end with them." 
 
 The king made no reply. 
 
 "Does your majesty consent?" said Colbert. 
 
 "I will reflect upon it, monsieur." 
 
 "It will be too late when reflection may be made." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because you have to deal with people stronger than our- 
 selves, if they are warned." 
 
 "Compose that chamber of justice, monsieur." 
 
 "I will, sire." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "No, sire; there is still an important affair. "What rights 
 does your majesty attach to this office of intendant?" 
 
 "Well, I do not know — the customary ones." 
 
 "Sire, I require that to this office be devolved the right 
 of reading the correspondence with England." 
 
 "Impossible, monsieur, for that correspondence is kept 
 from the council; Monsieur le Cardinal himself carried it 
 on." 
 
 "I thought your majesty had this morning declared that 
 there should no longer be a council?" 
 
 "Yes, T said so." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRIGELONNE. 325 
 
 "Let your majesty, then, have the goodness to read all 
 the letters yourself, particularly those from England; I 
 hold strongly to this article." 
 
 'Monsieur, you shall have that correspondence, and 
 render me an account of it." 
 
 "Now, sire, what shall I do with respect to the finances?" 
 "All which Monsieur Fouquet has not done." 
 "That is all I ask of your majesty. Thanks, sire; I de- 
 part at ease;" and at these words he did depart. Louis 
 watched that departure. Colbert was not yet a hundred 
 paces from the Louvre when the king received a courier 
 from England. After having looked at and examined the 
 envelope, the king broke the seal precipitately, and found 
 only a letter from Charles II. The following is what the 
 English prince wrote to his royal brother: 
 
 "Your majesty must be rendered very uneasy by the ill- 
 ness of Monsieur le Cardinal Mazarin; but the excess of 
 danger can only prove of service to you. The cardinal is 
 given over by his physician. I thank you for the gracious 
 reply you have made to my communication touching the 
 Princess Henrietta, my sister, and in a week the princess 
 and her court will set out for Paris. It is gratifying to me 
 to acknowledge the fraternal frendship you have evinced 
 toward me, and to call you, more justly than ever, my 
 brother. It is gratifying to me, above everything, to prove 
 to your majesty how much I am interested in all that may 
 please you. You are having Belle-Isle-en-Mer secretly 
 fortified. That is wrong. We shall never be at war against 
 each other. That measure does not make me uneasy, it 
 makes me sad. You are spending useless millions there; 
 tell your ministers so, and be assured that I am well in- 
 formed; render me the same service, my brother, if occa- 
 sion offers." 
 
 The king rang his bell violently, and his valet de chamire 
 appeared. 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert is just gone; he cannot be far off. 
 Let him be called back!" exclaimed he. 
 
 The valet was about to execute the order, when the king 
 stopped him. 
 
 "No," said he, "no; I see the whole scheme of that man. 
 Belle-Isle belongs to Monsieur Fouquet; Belle-Isle is being 
 fortified; that is a conspiracy on the part of Monsieur Fou- 
 quet. The discovery of that conspiracy is the ruin of the 
 
326 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 surintendant; and that discovery is the result of the corre- 
 spondence with England; this is why Colbert wished to 
 have that correspondence. Oh! but I cannot place all my 
 dependence upon that man; he is but the head, I must 
 have an arm!" 
 
 Louis all at once uttered a joyful cry. 
 
 "I had," said he, "a lieutenant of musketeers?" 
 
 ''Yes, sire — Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "He quitted the service for a time." 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "Let him be found, and be here to-morrow, at my levee." 
 
 The valet de chambre bowed, and went out. 
 
 "Thirteen millions in my cellar," said the king; "Col- 
 bert bearing my purse, and D'Artagnan carrying my sword 
 — I am king!" 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 A PASSION. 
 
 The 6!ay of his arrival, on returning from the Palais 
 Royal, Athos, as we have seen, went straight to his hotel in 
 the Rue St. Honore. He there found the Vicomte de 
 Bragelonne waiting for him in his chamber, chatting with 
 Grimaud. It was not an easy thing to talk with this old 
 servant. Two men only possessed the secret, Athos and 
 D'Artagnan. The first succeeded, because Grimaud sought 
 to make him speak for himself; D'Artagnan, on the con- 
 trary, because he knew how to make Grimaud talk. Raoul 
 was occupied in making him describe the voyage to Eng- 
 land, and Grimaud had related it in all its details, with a 
 certain number of gestures and eight words, neither more 
 nor less. He had, at first, indicated by an undulating 
 movement of his hand that his master and he had crossed 
 the sea. 
 
 "Upon some expedition?" Raoul had asked. 
 
 Grimaud, by bending down his head had answered: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "When Monsieur le Comte incurred much danger?" 
 asked Raoul. 
 
 "Neither too much nor too little," was replied by a shrug 
 of the shoulders. 
 
 "But, still, what sort of danger?" insisted Raoul. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 327 
 
 Grimaud pointed to the sword; he pointed to the fire and 
 to a musket hung up on the wall. 
 
 "Monsieur le Oomte had an enemy there, then?" cried 
 Kaoul. 
 
 "Monk," replied Grimaud. 
 
 "It is strange," continued Eaoul, "that Monsieur le 
 Comte persists in considering me a novice, and not allow-, 
 ing me to partake the honor and danger of his rencounters." 
 
 Grimaud smiled. It was at this moment Athos came in. 
 The host was lighting him up the stairs, and Grimaud, 
 recognizing the step of his master, hastened to meet him, 
 which cut short the conversation. But Raoul was launched 
 into the sea of interrogatories, and did not stop. Taking 
 both hands of the comte, with warm but respectful tender- 
 ness: 
 
 "How is it, monsieur," said he, "that you have set out 
 upon a dangerous voyage without bidding me adieu, with- 
 out commanding the aid of my sword, of myself, who ought 
 to be your support, now I have the strength; of me, whom 
 you have brought up like a man? Ah! monsieur, why 
 would you expose me to the cruel trial of never seeing you 
 again?" 
 
 "Who told you, Eaoul," said the comte, placing his cloak 
 and hat in the hands of Grimaud, who had unbuckled his 
 sword, "who told you that my voyage was a dangerous one?" 
 
 "I," said Grimaud. 
 
 "And why did you do so?" said Athos sternly. 
 
 Grimaud was embarrassed; Eaoul came to his assistance 
 by answering for him. 
 
 "It is natural, monsieur, that our good Grimaud should 
 tell me the truth in what concerns you. By whom should 
 you be loved and supported, if not by me?" 
 
 Athos did not reply. He made a friendly motion to 
 Grimaud, which sent him out of the room; he then seated 
 himself in a fauteuil, while Eaoul remained standing before 
 him. 
 
 "But is :t true," continued Eaoul, "that your voyage 
 was an expedition, and that steel and fire threatened you?" 
 
 "Say no more about that, vicomte," said Athos mildly. 
 "I set out hastily, it is true; but the service of King 
 Charles II. required a prompt departure. As to your 
 anxiety, I thank you for it, and I know that I can depend 
 upon yon. You have not wanted for anything, vicomte, in 
 my absence, have you?" 
 
 "No, monsieur, thank you." 
 
328 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELON-NE. 
 
 "I left orders with Blaisois to pay you a hundred pistoles, 
 if you should stand in need of money." 
 
 "Monsieur, I have not seen Blaisois." 
 
 "You have been without money, then?" 
 
 "Monsieur, I had thirty pistoles left from the sale of the 
 horses I took in my last campaign, and Monsieur le Prince 
 had the kindness to make me win two hundred pistoles at 
 his play-table three months ago." 
 
 "Do you play? I don't like that, Raoul." 
 
 "I never play, monsieur; it was Monsieur le Prince who 
 ordered me to hold his cards at Chantilly — one night when 
 a courier came to him from the king. I won, and Monsieur 
 le Prince commanded me to take the stakes." 
 
 "Is that a practice of the household, Raoul?" asked 
 Athos, with a frown. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; every week Monsieur le Prince affords, 
 upon one occasion or another, a similar advantage to one of 
 his gentlemen. There are fifty gentlemen in his highness' 
 household; it was my turn that time." 
 
 "Very well. You went into Spain, then?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; I made a very delightful and interesting 
 journey." 
 
 "You have been back a month, have you not?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "And in the course of that month?" 
 
 "In that month " 
 
 "What have you done?" 
 
 "My duties, monsieur." 
 
 "Have you not been home, to La Fere?" 
 
 Raoul colored. Athos looked at him with a fixed but 
 tranquil expression. 
 
 "You would be wrong not to believe me," said Raoul. 
 "I feel that I colored, and in spite of myself. The ques- 
 tion you did me the honor to ask me is of a nature to raise 
 in me much emotion. I color, then, because I am agitated, 
 not because I meditate a falsehood." 
 
 "I know, Raoul, that you never lie." 
 
 "No, monsieur." 
 
 "Besides, my young friend, you would be wrong; what I 
 wanted to say " 
 
 "I know quite well, monsieur. You would ask me if 1 
 have not been to Blois?" 
 
 "Exactly so." 
 
 "J iiave not been there; I have not even seen the person 
 < i whom you would speak to me," 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 329 
 
 The voice of Raoul trembled as he pronounced these 
 words. Athos, a sovereign judge in all matters of delicacy, 
 immediately added: 
 
 "Raoul, you answer with a painful feeling; you are un- 
 happy." 
 
 "Very, monsieur; you have forbidden me to go to Blois 
 or to see Mademoiselle de la Valliere again." 
 
 Here the young man stopped. That dear name, so de- 
 lightful to pronounce, made his heart bleed, although so 
 sweet upon his lips. 
 
 "And I have acted correctly, Raoul," Athos hastened to 
 reply. "I am neither an unjust nor a barbarous father; I 
 respect true love; but I look forward for you for a future — ■ 
 an immense future. A new reign is about to break upon 
 us like a fresh dawn. War calls upon a young king full of 
 chivalric spirit. What is wanting to assist this heroic ardor 
 is a battalion of young and free lieutenants who would rush 
 to the fight with enthusiasm, and fall, crying: ' Vive U 
 Roi,' instead of 'Adieu, my dear wife!' You understand 
 that, Raoul. However brutal my reasoning may appear to 
 be, I conjure you, then, to believe me, and to turn away 
 your thoughts from those early days of youth in which you 
 took up this habit of love — days of effeminate carelessness, 
 which soften the heart and render it incapable of contain- 
 ing those strong, bitter draughts called glory and adversity. 
 Therefore, Raoul, I repeat to you, you should see in my 
 counsel only the desire of being useful to you, only the 
 ambition of seeing you prosper. I believe you capable of 
 becoming a remarkable man. March alone, and you will 
 march better, and more quickly." 
 
 "You have commanded, monsieur," replied Raoul, "and 
 I obey." 
 
 "Commanded!" cried Athos. "Is it thus you reply to 
 me? I have commanded you! Oh! you distort my words 
 as you misconceive my intentions. I did not command 
 you; I requested you." 
 
 "No, monsieur, you have commanded," said Raoul per- 
 sistently; "had you only requested me, your request is still 
 more effective than your order. I have not seen Made- 
 moiselle de la Valliere again." 
 
 "But you are unhappy; you are unhappy!" insisted Athos. 
 
 Raoul made no reply. 
 
 "I find you pale; I find you dull. The sentiment is 
 strong, then?" 
 
 '"It is a passion," replied Raoul. 
 
330 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONHE. 
 
 "No— a habit." 
 
 "Monsieur, you know I have traveled much, that I have 
 passed two years far from her. A habit would yield to an 
 absence of two years, I believe; whereas, on my return, I 
 loved, not more, that was impossible, but as much. Made- 
 moiselle de la Valliere is for me the mate above all others; 
 but you are for me a god upon earth — to you I sacrifice 
 everything." 
 
 "You are wrong," said Athos; "I have no longer any 
 right over you. Age has emancipated you; you no longer 
 even stand in need of my consent. Besides, I will not re- 
 fuse my consent after what you have told me. Marry 
 Mademoiselle de la Valliere, if you like." 
 
 Raoul was startled, but suddenly: 
 
 "You are very kind, monsieur," said he, "and your 
 concession excites my warmest gratitude, but I will not 
 accept it." 
 
 "Then you now refuse?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "I will not oppose you in anything, Raoul." 
 
 "But you have at the bottom of your heart an idea 
 against this marriage; you have not chosen it." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "That is sufficient to make me not persist; I will wait." 
 
 "Beware, Raoul! What you are now saying is serious." 
 
 "I know it is, monsieur; as I said, I will wait." 
 
 "Until I die?" said Athos, much agitated. 
 
 "Oh! monsieur," cried Raoul, with tears in his eyes, "is 
 it possible that you should wound my heart thus? I have 
 never given you cause of complaint!" 
 
 "Dear boy, that is true," murmured Athos, pressing his 
 lips violently together to suppress the emotion of which he 
 was no longer master. "No, I will no longer afflict you; 
 only I do not comprehend what you mean by waiting. 
 Will you wait till you love no longer?" 
 
 "Ah! for that! — no, monsieur. I will wait till you 
 change your opinion." 
 
 "I should wish to put the matter to a test, Raoul; I 
 should like to see if Mademoiselle de la Valliere will wait as 
 you do." 
 
 "I hope so, monsieur." 
 
 "But, take care, Raoul. If she did not wait? Ah! you 
 are so young, so confiding, so loyal! AVomen are change- 
 able." 
 
 "You have never spoken ill to me of women, monsieur; 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 331 
 
 you have never had to complain of them; why should you 
 doubt of Mademoiselle de la Valliere?" 
 
 "That is true," said Athos, casting down his eyes; ''I 
 have never spoken ill to you of women; I have never had to 
 complain of them; Mademoiselle de la Valliere never gave 
 birth to a suspicion; but when we are looking forward, we 
 must go even to exceptions, even to improbabilities. If, I 
 say, Mademoiselle de la Valliere should not wait for you?" 
 
 "How, monsieur?" 
 
 "If she turned her eyes another way." 
 
 "If she looked favorably upon another man, do you mean 
 that, monsieur?" said Eaoul, pale with agony. 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "Well, monsieur, I would kill that man," said Eaoul 
 simply, "and all the men whom Mademoiselle de la Vallere 
 should choose, until one of them had killed me, or Made- 
 moiselle de la Valliere had restored me her heart." 
 
 Athos started. "I thought," resumed he, in an agitated 
 voice, "that you called me just now your god, your law in 
 this world." 
 
 "Oh!" said Kaoul, trembling, "you would forbid me the 
 duel?" 
 
 "If I forbid it, Eaoul?" 
 
 "You would forbid me to hope, monsieur; consequently 
 you would not forbid me to die." 
 
 Athos raised his eyes toward the vicomte. He had pro- 
 nounced these words with the most melancholy inflection, 
 accompanied by the most melancholy look. "Enough," 
 said Athos, after a long silence, "enough of this subject, 
 upon which we both go too far. Live as well as you are 
 able, Eaoul, perform your duties, love Mademoiselle de la 
 Valliere; in a word, act like a man, since you have attained 
 the age of a man; only do not forget that I love you ten- 
 derly, and that you profess to love me." 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur le Comte," cried Eaoul, pressing the 
 hand of Athos to his heart. 
 
 "Enough, dear boy; leave me; I want rest. Apropos, 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan has returned from England with me; 
 you owe him a visit." 
 
 "I will go and pay it him, monsieur, with great pleasure. 
 I love Monsieur d'Artagnan exceedingly." 
 
 "You are right in doing so; he is a worthy man and a 
 brave cavalier." 
 
 "Who loves you dearly." 
 
 "I am sure of that. Do you know his address?" 
 
33:2 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "At the Louvre, I suppose, or wherever the king is. 
 Does he not command the musketeers?" 
 
 ''No; at present Monsieur d'Artagnan is absent on leave; 
 he is resting a little. Do not, therefore, seek him at the 
 posts of his service. You will hear of him at the house of 
 a certain Planchet." 
 
 "His former lackey?" 
 
 "Exactly; turned grocer." 
 
 "I know; Rue des Lombards?" 
 
 "Somewhere thereabouts, or Rue des Arcis." 
 
 "I will find it, monsieur — I will find it." 
 
 "You will say a thousand kind things to him, on my 
 oart, and ask him to come and dine with me before I set 
 out for La Fere." 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Good-night, Raoul." 
 
 "Monsieur, I see you wear an order I never saw you wear 
 before; accept my compliments." 
 
 "The Fleece! that is true. A coral, my boy, which no 
 longer amuses even an old child like myself. Good-night. 
 Raoul!" 
 
 CHAPTER ML 
 
 d'artagnan's lesson. 
 
 Raoul did not meet with D'Artagnan the next day, as he 
 had hoped. He only met with Planchet, whose joy was 
 great at seeing the young man again, and who contrived to 
 pay him two or three little soldierly compliments savoring 
 very little of the grocer's shop. But as Raoul was return- 
 ing the next day from Vincennes, at the head of fifty 
 dragoons confided to him by M. le Prince, he perceived, in 
 La Place Baudcyer, a man with his nose in the air, examin- 
 ing a house as we examine a horse we have a fancy to buy. 
 This man, dressed in citizen costume, buttoned up like a 
 military pourpoint, a very small hat on his head, but a long 
 shagreen-mounted sword by his side, turned his* head as 
 soon as he heard the steps of the horses, and left off look- 
 ing at the house to look at the dragoons. This was simply 
 M. d'Artagnan; D'Artagnan on foot; D'Artagnan with his 
 hands behind him, passing a little review upon the dragoons, 
 after having reviewed the buildings. Not a man, not a tag, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 333 
 
 not a horse's hoof escaped his inspection. Eaoul rode at 
 the side of his troop; D'Artagnan perceived him the last. 
 
 "Eh!" said he, "eh, mordioux ! 
 
 "I was not mistaken!" cried Kaoul, turning his horse 
 toward him. 
 
 "Mistaken — no! Good-day to you," replied the ex-mus~ 
 keteer; while Eaoul eagerly pressed the hand of his old 
 friend. "Take care, Eaoul," said D'Artagnan, "the second 
 horse of the fifth rank will lose a shoe before he gets to 
 Pont Marie; he has only two nails left in his off forefoot." 
 
 "Wait a minute, I will come back," said Eaoul. 
 
 "Can you quit your detachment?" 
 
 "The cornet is there to take my place." 
 
 "Then you Avill come and dine with me?" 
 
 "Most willingly, Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Be quick, then; leave your horse, and make them give 
 me one." 
 
 "I prefer coming back on foot with you." 
 
 Eaoul hastened to give notice to the cornet, who took his 
 post; he then dismounted, gave his horse to one of the 
 dragoons, and with great delight seized the arm of M. d'Ar- 
 tagnan, who had watched him during all these little evolu- 
 tions with the satisfaction of a connoisseur. 
 
 "What, do you come from Vincennes?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier." 
 
 "And the cardinal?" 
 
 "Is very ill; it is even reported he is dead." 
 
 "Are you on good terms with Monsieur Fouquet?" asked 
 D'Artagnan, with a disdainful movement of the shoulders, 
 proving that the death of Mazarin did not affect him beyond 
 measure. 
 
 "With Monsieur Fouquet?" said Eaoul; "I do not know 
 him." 
 
 "So much the worse! so much the worse! for a new king 
 always seeks to get creatures." 
 
 "Oh! the king means no harm," replied the young man. 
 
 "I say nothing about the crown," cried D'Artagnan; "I 
 am speaking of the king, the king, that is Monsieur Fou- 
 quet, if the cardinal is dead. You must contrive to be well 
 with Monsieur Fouquet, if you do not wish to molder away 
 all your life as I have moldered. It is true you have, for- 
 tunately, other protectors." 
 
 "Monsieur le Prince, for instance." 
 
 "Worn out! worn out!" 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte de la Fere?" 
 
334 THE VICOMTE DE BS A OELONNE. 
 
 "Athos! oh, that's different; yes, Athos — and if you have 
 any wish to make your way in England, you cannot apply 
 to a better person. I can even say, without too much 
 vanity, that I myself have some credit at the court of 
 Charles II. There is a king — God speed him!" 
 
 "Ah!" cried Kaoul, with the natural curiosity of well- 
 born young people while listening to experience and courage. 
 
 "Yes, a king who amuses himself, it is true, but who has 
 had a sword in his hand and can appreciate useful men. 
 Athos is on good terms with Charles II. Take service 
 there, and leave these scoundrels of contractors and farmers- 
 general, who steal as well with French hands as others have 
 done with Italian hands; leave the little sniveling king, 
 who is going to give us another reign of Francis II. Do 
 you know anything of history, Raoul?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier." 
 
 "Do you know, then, that Francis II. had always the 
 
 "No, I did not know that." 
 
 "That Charles IV. had always the headache?" 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "And Henry III., always the stomachache?" 
 
 Raoul began to laugh. 
 
 "Well, my dear friend, Louis XIV. always has the heart 
 ache; it is deplorable to see a king sighing from morning 
 till night, without saying once in the course of the day, 
 ventre-saint-gris ! corbceiif! or anything to rouse one." 
 
 "Was that the reason why you quitted the service, Mon- 
 sieur le Chevalier?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But you yourself, Monsieur d'Artagnan, are throwing 
 the handle after the axe; you will not make a fortune." 
 
 "Who! I?" replied D'Artagnan, in a careless tone; c '\ 
 am settled — I have some family property." 
 
 Raoul looked at him. The poverty of D'Artagnan was 
 proverbial. A Gascon, he exceeded in ill-luck all the Gas- 
 connades of France and Navarre; Raoul had a hundred 
 times heard Job and D'Artagnan named together, as the 
 twins Romulus and Remus are named, D'Artagnan caught 
 Raoul's look of astonishment. 
 
 "And has not your father told you I have been in Eng 
 land?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier." 
 
 "And that 1 had there met with a very lucky chance?' 
 
 "No, monsieur, 1 did not know that." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 33- r > 
 
 "Yes, a very worthy friend of mine, a great nobleman, 
 the Viceroy of Scotland and Ireland- has endowed me with 
 an inheritance." 
 
 "An inheritance?" 
 
 "And a good one, too." 
 
 "Then you are rich?" 
 
 "Pugh!" 
 
 "Receive my sincere congratulation.'* 
 
 "Thank you! Look, that is my house.'* 
 
 "Place de Greve?" 
 
 "Yes; you don't like this quarter?" 
 
 "On the contrary, the lookout on the water is pleasant. 
 Oh, what a pretty old house!" 
 
 "The sign Notre Dame; it is an old cabaret, which I 
 have transformed into a private house in two days." 
 
 "But the cabaret is still open?" 
 
 "Pardieu !" 
 
 "And where do you lodge, then?" 
 
 "I? I lodge with Planchet." 
 
 "You said, just now, 'This is my house.' " 
 
 "I said so, because, in fact, it is my house. I have 
 bought it." 
 
 "Ah!" said Eaoul. 
 
 "At ten years' purchase, my dear Raoul; a superb affair. 
 I bought the house for thirty thousand livres; it has a 
 garden that opens to the Rue de la Matillerie; the cabaret 
 lets for a thousand livres, with the first story; the garret, 
 or second floor, for five hundred livres." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 "Five hundred livres for a garret? Why, that is not 
 habitable." 
 
 "Therefore no one does inhabit it; only, you see, this 
 garret has two windows which look out upon the Place." 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Well, then, every time anybody is broken on the wheel, 
 or hung, quartered, or burned, these two windows are let 
 for twenty pistoles." 
 
 "Oh!" said Raoul, with horror. 
 
 "It is disgusting; is it not?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Oh!" repeated Raoul. 
 
 "It is disgusting, but so it is. These Parisian cockneys 
 are sometimes real anthropophagi. I cannot conceive how 
 Kuen, Christians, can make such speculation." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
336 THE VICOMTE DB BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "As for myself/' continued D'Artagnan, "if I inhabited 
 that house, on days of execution I would shut it up to the 
 very keyholes; but I do not inhabit it." 
 
 "And you let the garret for five hundred livres?" 
 
 "To the ferocious cabaretier, who sublets it. I said then 
 fifteen hundred livres." 
 
 "The natural interest of money," said Raoul, "five per 
 cent." 
 
 "Exactly so. I then have left the side of the house at 
 the hack, magazines, lodgings, and cellars, inundated every 
 winter, two hundred livres; and the garden, which is very 
 fine, well planted, well shaded under the walls and portal 
 of St. Gervais and St. Protais, thirteen hundred livres." 
 
 ''Thirteen hundred livres! why, that is royal!" 
 
 "This is the history ©f it. I strongly suspect some canon 
 of the parish (these canons are all as rich as Croesus) — I 
 suspect some canon of having hired the garden to take his 
 pleasure in. The tenant has given the name of Monsieur 
 Godard. That is either a false name or a real name; \i 
 true, he is a canon; if false, he is some unknown; but of 
 what consequence is it to me? he always pays in advance 
 I had also an idea just now, when I met you, of buying a 
 house in the Place Baudoyer, the back premises of which 
 join my garden, and would make a magnificent property. 
 Your dragoons interrupted my calculations. But come, 
 let us take the Bue de la Yannerie, that will lead us straight 
 to Monsieur Planchet's." D'Artagnan mended his pace, 
 and conducted Baoul to Planchet's dwelling, a chamber of 
 which the grocer had given up to his old master. Planchet 
 was out, but the dinner was ready. There was a remains 
 of military regularity and punctuality preserved in the 
 grocer's household. D'Artagnan returned to the chapter 
 of Raoul's future. 
 
 "Your father keeps you rather strictly?" said he. 
 
 "Justly, Monsieur le Chevalier." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know Athos is just; but close, perhaps?" 
 
 "A royal hand, Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Well, never want, my boy. 12 ever you stand in need 
 of a few pistoles, the old musketeer is at hand." 
 
 "My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan!" 
 
 "Do you play a little?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 'Successful with the ladies, then? Oh, my little AramisJ 
 That my dear friend, costs still more than play. It is true 
 v. -j fight when we lose; that is a compensation. Bah! the 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 337 
 
 little sniveler of a king makes men who draw pay for it. 
 What a reign! my poor Raoul, what a reign! When we 
 think that, in my time, the musketeers were besieged in 
 their houses, like Hector and Priam in the city of Troy; 
 and then the women wept, and then the walls laughed, and 
 then five hundred beggarly fellows clapped their hands, and 
 cried, 'Kill, kill!' when not one musketeer was hurt. Mor- 
 dioux! you will never see anything like that." 
 
 "You are very hard upon the king, my dear Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan;,and yet you scarcely know him." 
 
 "I! Listen, Raoul. Day by day, hour by hour — take 
 note of my words — I will predict what he will do. The 
 cardinal being dead, he will weep; very well, that is the 
 thing the least silly he will do, particularly if he does not 
 shed a tear." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Why then he will get Monsieur Fouquet to allow him a 
 pension, and will go and compose verses at Fontainebleau, 
 upon some Mancini or other, whose eyes the queen will 
 scratch out. She is a Spaniard, see you, this queen of ours; 
 and she has, as a mother-in-law, Madame Anne of Austria. 
 I know something of the Spaniards of the house of Austria." 
 
 "And next?" 
 
 "Well, after having torn off the silver lace from the uni- 
 forms of his Swiss, because lace is too expensive, he will 
 dismount the musketeers, because the oats and hay of a 
 horse cost five sols a day." 
 
 "Oh! do not say that." 
 
 "Of what consequence is it to ma, I am no longer a mus- 
 keteer, am I? Let them be on horseback, let them be on 
 foot, let them carry a larding-pin, a sj)it, a sword, or noth- 
 ing — what is it to me?" 
 
 "My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, I beseech you, say no 
 more ill to me of the king. I am almost in his service, 
 and my father would be very angry with me for having 
 heard even from your mouth words that were offensive to 
 his majesty." 
 
 "Your father, eh! He is a knight in every bad cause. 
 Pardieu ! yes, your father is a brave, is a Ca?sar, it is true, 
 but a man without perception." 
 
 "Now, my dear chevalier," exclaimed Raoul, laughing, 
 "what, are you going to speak ill of my father, of him yon 
 call the great Athos? Truly, you are in a bad vein to-day; 
 riches render you as sour as poverty renders other people." 
 
 "Pardieu! you are right. I am a rascal and in my dotage; 
 
338 THE YICOMTE DE BRAOELCCNTNE. 
 
 I am an anhappy wretch grown old, a forage-cord untwisted, 
 a pierced cuirass, a boot without a sole, a spur without a 
 rowel; but do me the pleasure to say one thing for me?" 
 
 "What is that, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan?" 
 
 "Say this to me: 'Mazarin was a pitiful wretch.' ; ' 
 
 "Perhaps he is dead." 
 
 "More the reason — I say was ; if I did not hope that he 
 was dead I would entreat you to say: 'Mazarin is a pitiful 
 wretch.' Come say so, say so, for the love of me." 
 
 "Well, I will." 
 
 "Say it!" 
 
 "Mazarin was a pitiful wretch," said Raoul, smiling at 
 the musketeer, who roared with laughter, as in his best 
 days. 
 
 "A moment," said the latter; "you have spoken my 
 first proposition, here is the conclusion of it; repeat, Raoul, 
 repeat: 'But I regret Mazarin.' " 
 
 "Chevalier!" 
 
 "You will not say it? Well, then, I will say it twice for 
 you." 
 
 "But you would regret Mazarin?" 
 
 And they were still laughing and discussing this digest- 
 ing of a profession of principles when one of the shop-boys 
 entered. "A letter, monsieur," said he, "for Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Thank you; give it me," cried the musketeer. 
 
 "The handwriting cf Monsieur le Comte," said Raoul. 
 
 "Yes, yes." And D'Artagnan broke the seal. 
 
 "Dear friend," wrote Athos, "a person has just been 
 here to beg me to seek for you, on the part of the king." 
 
 "Seek me!" said D'Artagnan, letting the paper fall upon 
 the table. Raoul picked it up, and continued to read 
 aloud: 
 
 "Make haste. His majesty is very anxious to speak to 
 you, and expects you at the Louvre." 
 
 "Expects me!" again repeated the musketeer. 
 
 "He! he! he!" laughed Raoul. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" replied D'Artagnan. "What the devil cau 
 this mean?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 339 
 
 CHAPTEE LIII. 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 The first movement of surprise overj D'Artagnan re- 
 perused Athos' note. "It is strange," said he, "that the 
 king should send for me." 
 
 "Why so?" said Eaoul; "do you not think, monsieur, 
 that the king must regret such a servant as you?" 
 
 "Oh, oh!" cried the officer, laughing with all his might; 
 'you are jeering at me, Master Raoul. If the king had 
 regretted me, he would not have let me leave him. No, 
 no; I see in it something better, or worse, if you like." 
 
 "Worse! What can that be, Monsieur le Chevalier?" 
 
 "You are young, you are a boy, you are admirable. Oh, 
 how I should like to be as you are! To be but twenty-four, 
 with an unfurrowed brow, under which the brain is void of 
 everything but woman, love, and good intentions. Oh, 
 Raoul, as long as you have not received the smiles of kings, 
 the confidence of queens; as long as you have not had two 
 cardinals killed under you, the one a tiger the other a fox; 
 as long as you have not — But what is the good of all this 
 trifling? We must part, Raoul." 
 
 "How you speak that! What a serious face!" 
 
 "Eh! but the occasion i= worthy of it. Listen to me; I 
 have a very good recommendation to make you." 
 
 "T am all attention, Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "You will go and inform your tather of my departure." 
 
 "Your departure?" 
 
 "Pardieu ! You will tell him that I am gone into Eng- 
 land; and that I am living in my little country house." 
 
 "In England, you! And the king's orders?" 
 
 "You get more and more silly; do you imagine that 1 
 am going in that way to the Louvre, to place myself at the 
 disposal of that little crowned wolf-cub?" 
 
 "The king a wolf-cub? why, Monsieur le Chevalier, you 
 are mad!" 
 
 "On the contrary, I was never so much otherwise. Yon 
 do not know what he wants to do with me, this worthy son 
 of Louis le Juste! But, mordioux ! that is policy. He 
 wishes to ensconce me snugly in the Bastile — purely and 
 simply, see you!" 
 
 "What for?" cried Raoul, terrified at what he heard. 
 
 "On account of what I told him one day at Blois. I was 
 warm; he remembers it." 
 
340 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''You told him what?" 
 
 "That he was mean, cowardly, and silly." 
 
 "Good God!" cried Raoul, "is it possible that such 
 words should have issued from your mouth?" 
 
 "Perhaps, I don't give the letter of my speech, but I give 
 the sense of it." 
 
 "But did not the king have you arrested immediately?" 
 
 "By whom? It was I who commanded the musketeers; he 
 must have commanded me to convey myself to prison; I 
 would never have consented; I would have resisted myself. 
 And then I went into England — no more D'Artagnan. 
 Now, the cardinal is dead, or nearly so, they learn that I 
 am in Paris, and they lay their hands on me." 
 
 "The cardinal was, then, your protector?" 
 
 "The cardinal knew me; he knew certain particularities 
 of me; I also knew certain of him; we appreciated each 
 other mutually. And then, on rendering his soul to the devil, 
 he would recommend Anne of Austria to make me the in- 
 habitant of a safe place. Go then and find your father, 
 relate the fact to him — and, adieu!" 
 
 "My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Raoul, very much 
 agitated, after having looked out at the window, "you can 
 not even fly!" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because there is below an officer of the Swiss guards 
 waiting for you." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 "Well, he will arrest you." 
 
 D'Artagnan broke into a Homeric laugh. 
 
 "Oh! I know very well that you will resist, that you will 
 fight even; I know very well that you will prove conqueror; 
 but that amounts to rebellion, and you are an officer your- 
 self, knowing what discipline is." 
 
 "Devil of a boy, how noble, how logical that is!" grum- 
 bled D'Artagnan. 
 
 "You approve of it, do you not?" 
 
 "Yes, instead of passing into the street, where the oaf is 
 waiting for me, I will slip quietly out at the back. I have 
 a horse in the stable, and a good one. I will burst him, 
 my means permit me to do so, and by killing one horse after 
 another, I shall arrive at Boulogne in eleven hours; I know 
 the road. Only tell your father one thing." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That is: that that which he knows about is placed at 
 Planchet's house, except a fifth, and that " 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 341 
 
 "But, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, be assured that if 
 you fly, two things will be said of you." 
 
 "What are they, my dear friend?" 
 
 "The first, that you have been afraid/' 
 
 "Ah! and who will dare to say that?" 
 
 "The king, the first." 
 
 "Well! but he will tell the truth— I am afraid," 
 
 "The second, that you felt yourself guilty," 
 
 "Guilty of what?" 
 
 "Why, of the crimes they wish to impute to you." 
 
 "That is true again. So then, you advise me to go and 
 get myself made a prisoner in the Bastile?" 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte de la Fere would advise you just as 
 I do." 
 
 ''Pardieu ! I know he would," said D'Artagnan thought- 
 fully. "You are right, I shall not escape. But if they 
 cast me into the Bastile?" 
 
 "We will get you out again," said Raoul, with a quiet, 
 calm air. 
 
 " 'Mordioux ! You said that after a brave fashion, Raoul," 
 said D'Artagnan, seizing his hand; "that savors of Athos, 
 quite pure. Well, I will go, then. Do not forget my last 
 word." 
 
 "Except a fifth," said Eaoul. 
 
 "Yes, you are a fine boy; and I wish you to add one 
 thing to that last word." 
 
 "Speak, chevalier." 
 
 "It is that if you cannot get me out of the Bastile, and 
 that I remain there — Oh! that will be so, and I shall be a 
 detestable prisoner; I, who have been a passable man — in 
 that case, I give three-fifths to you, and the fourth to your 
 father." 
 
 "Chevalier!" 
 
 "Mordioux! If you will have some masses said forme, 
 you are welcome." 
 
 That being said, D'Artagnan took his belt from the hook ; 
 girded on his sword, took a hat, the feather of which was 
 fresh, and held his hand out to Raoul, who threw himself 
 into his arms. When in the shop he cast a quick glance at 
 the shop-lads, who looked upon the scene with a pricl^ 
 mingled with some inquietude; then, plunging his hanas 
 into a chest of currants, he went straight to the officer who 
 was waiting for him at the door. 
 
 "Those features! Can it be you, Monsieur Je Friedisch?" 
 cried D'Artagnan gaylv- "Eh! eh ! what, dp we arrest oui 
 friends?" 
 
342 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Arrest!" whispered the lads among ;nemselves. 
 
 "Yes, it is I, Monsieur d'Artagnan! Good-day Id jouP* 
 said the Swiss, in his mountain patois. 
 
 "Must I give you up my sword? I warn you, that it is 
 long and heavy; you had better let me wear it to the 
 Louvre; I feel quite lost in the streets without a sword, 
 and you would be more at a loss than I should with two." 
 
 "The king has given no orders about it," replied the 
 Swiss; "so keep your sword." 
 
 "Well, that is very polite on the part of the king. Let 
 us go at once." 
 
 M. Friedisch was not a talker, and D'Artagnan had too 
 much to think about to be one. From Planchet's shop to 
 the Louvre was not far; they arrived in ten minutes. It 
 was a dark night. M. de Friedisch wanted to enter by the 
 ticket. "No," said D'Artagnan, "you would lose time by 
 that; take the little staircase." 
 
 The Swiss did as D'Artagnan advised, and conducted him 
 to the vestibule of the king's cabinet. When arrived there 
 he bowed to his prisoner, and, without saying anything, 
 returned to his post. D'Artagnan had not had time to ask 
 why his sword was not taken from him when the door of 
 the cabinet opened, and a valet de chambre called, "Mon- 
 sieur d'Artagnan!" The musketeer assumed his parade 
 carriage, and entered, with his large eyes wide open, his 
 brow calm, his mustache stiff. The king was seated at a 
 table writing. He did not disturb himself when the step 
 of the musketeer resounded on the floor; he did not even 
 turn his head. D'Artagnan advanced as far as the middle 
 of the room, and seeing that the king paid no attention to 
 him, and suspecting, besides, that that was nothing but 
 affectation, a sort of tormenting preamble to the explana- 
 tion which was preparing, he turned his back on the prince, 
 and began to examine the frescoas on the cornices and the 
 cracks in the ceiling. This maneuver was accompanied 
 by this little tacit monologue: "Ah! you want to humble 
 me, do you? — you, whom I have seen so young — you, whom 
 I have saved as I would my own child — you, whom I have 
 served, as I would a God — that is to say, fof nothing. 
 Wait awhile! wait awhile! you shall see what a man can do 
 who has snuffed the air of the fire of the Huguenots, unde* 
 the beard of Monsieur le Cardinal — the true cardinal.'" At 
 this moment Louis turned round. 
 
 "Ah, are you there, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" said he 
 
 D'Artagnan saw the and imitated it. "Ye% 
 
 sire." said he> 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 343 
 
 "Very wall; have the goodness to wait till I have cast 
 thi: up.'' 
 
 D'Artagnan made no reply; he only bowed. ''That is 
 polite enough/'' thought he; "I have nothing to say." 
 
 Louis made a violent dash wiuh his pen, and threw it 
 angrily away. 
 
 "Ah! go on, work yourself up!" thought the musketeer? 
 "you will put me at my ease, you shall find I did not empty 
 the bag, the other day, at Blois." 
 
 Louis rose from his seat, passed his hand over his brow; 
 then, stopping opposite to D'Artagnan, he looked at him 
 with an air at once imperious and kind. "What the devil 
 does he want with me? I wish he would begin!" thought 
 the musketeer. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the king, "you know, without doubt, 
 that Monsieur le Cardinal is dead?" 
 
 "I suspected so, sire." 
 
 "You know that, consequently, I am master in my own 
 kingdom?" 
 
 "That is not a thing that dates from the death of Mon- 
 sieur le Cardinal, sire; a man is always master in his own 
 house, when he wishes to be so." 
 
 "Yes; but do you remember all you said to me at Biois?" 
 
 "Now we come to it," thought D'Artagnan; "I was not 
 deceived. Well, so much the better; it is a sign that my 
 scent is tolerably keen yet." 
 
 "You do not answer me," said Louis* 
 
 "Sire, I think I recollect." 
 
 "You only think?" 
 
 "It is so long ago." 
 
 "If you do not remember, I do. You said to me — listen 
 with attention." 
 
 "Ah! I shall listen with all my ears, sire; for it is very 
 likely the conversation will turn in a fashion very interest 
 ing to me." 
 
 Louis once more looked at the musketeer. The latter 
 smoothed the feather of his hat, then his mustache, and 
 waited intrepidly. Louis XIV. continued: "You quitted 
 my service, monsieur, after have told me the whole truth?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "That is, after having declared to me all yon thought to 
 be true with regard to my mode of thinking and acting. 
 That is always a merit. You began by telling me that you 
 iiad served my family thirty years, and were tired." 
 
 "X said so; yes, sire." 
 
344 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "And you afterward admitted that mat fatigue was a pre 
 text, and that discontent was the real cause." 
 
 "I was discontented, in fact; but that discontent hafc 
 never betrayed itself, that I know of, and if, like a man of 
 heart, I have spoken out before your majesty, I have not 
 even thought of the matter in face of anybody else." 
 
 "Do not excuse yourself, D'Artagnan, but continue to 
 listen to me. When making me the reproach that you weie 
 discontented, you received in reply a promise; wait, is not 
 that true?" 
 
 "Yes, sire, as true as what I told you." 
 
 "You answered me, 'Hereafter? No, now, immediately. ' 
 Do not excuse yourself, I tell you. It was natural, but you 
 had no charity for your poor prince, Monsieur d'Artagnan.'' 
 
 "Sire, charity for a king, on the part of a poor soldier!" 
 
 "You understand me very well; you knew that I stood 
 in need of it; you knew very well that I was not master; 
 you knew very well that my hope was in the future. Now, 
 you replied to me when I spoke of that future, 'My dis- 
 charge — and that directly.'" 
 
 "That is true," murmured D'Artagnan, bating his 
 mustache. 
 
 "You did not flatter me when I was in distress," added 
 Louis. 
 
 "But," said D'Artagnan, raising his head nobly, "if I 
 did not flatter your majesty when poor, neither did I betray 
 
 f r ou. I have shed my blood for nothing; I have watched 
 ike a dog at a door, knowing full well that neither bread 
 nor bone would be thrown to me. I, although poor like- 
 wise, asked nothing of your majesty but the discharge you 
 sr)eak of." 
 
 " ''I know you are a brave man, but I was a young man, 
 and you ought to have had some indulgence for me. What 
 had you to reproach the king with? that he left King 
 Charles II. without assistance? let us say further — that he 
 did not marry Mademoiselle de Mancini?" When saying 
 these words the king fixed upon the musketeer a searching 
 look. 
 
 "Ah! ah!" thought the latter, "he is doing more than 
 remembering, he is guessing. The devil!" 
 
 "Your sentence," continued Louis, "fell upon the king 
 and fell upon the man. 'But Monsieur d'Artagnan, that 
 weakness, for you considered it a weakness?" — D'Artagnan 
 made no reply — "you reproached me also with regard to 
 monsieur, the defunct cardinal. Now, Monsieur le Car- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXHE. 345 
 
 dinal, did he not bring me up, did he not support me — 
 elevating himself and supporting himself at the same time, 
 I admit; but the benefit was discharged. As an ingrate or 
 an egotist, would you, then, have better loved me or served 
 me?" 
 
 "Sire!" 
 
 "We will say no more about it, monsieur; it would only 
 create you too many regrets and me too much pain." 
 
 D'Artagnan was not convinced. The young king, in 
 adopting a tone of hauteur with him, did not forward his 
 purpose. 
 
 "You have since reflected?" resumed Louis. 
 'Upon what, sire?" asked D'Artagnan politely. 
 
 "Why, upon all that I have said to you, monsieur." 
 
 "'Yes, sire, no doubt " 
 
 "And you have only waited for an opportunity of retract- 
 ing your words?" 
 
 "Sire!" 
 
 "You hesitate, it seems." 
 
 "I do not understand what your majesty did me the 
 honor to say to me." 
 
 Louis' brow became cloudy. 
 
 "Have the goodness to excuse me, sire; my understand- 
 ing is particularly thick; things do not penetrate it without 
 difficulty; but it is true, when once they get in they remain 
 there." 
 
 "Yes, yes; you appear to have a memory." 
 
 "Almost as good a one as your majesty's." 
 
 "Then give me quickly one solution. My time is valua- 
 ble. What have you been doing since your discharge?" 
 
 "Making my fortune, sire." 
 
 "The expression is rude, Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Your majesty takes it in bad part, certainly. I enter- 
 tain nothing but the profoundest respect for the king; and 
 if I have been impolite, which might be excused by my long 
 sojourn in camps and barracks, your majesty is too much 
 above me to be offended at a word innocently escaped from 
 a soldier." 
 
 "In fact, I know that you have performed a brilliant 
 action in England, monsieur. I only regret that you have 
 broken your promise." 
 
 "I!" cried D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Doubtless. You engaged your word not to serve any 
 other prince on quitting my service. Now, it was for King 
 Charles II. that you undertook the marvelous carrying off 
 of Monsieur Monk." 
 
346 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Pardon me, sire; it was for myself." 
 
 "And did you succeed?" 
 
 "Like the captains of the fifteenth century, coups dt 
 main and adventures." 
 
 "What do you call succeeding — a fortune?" 
 
 "A hundred thousand crowns, sire, which I possess — that 
 is, in one week the triple of all I ever had in money in fifty 
 years." 
 
 "It is a handsome sum. But you are ambitious, I believe?" 
 
 "I! sire? The quarter of it would be a treasure; and I 
 swear to you I have no thought of augmenting it." 
 
 "What! do you contemplate remaining idle?" 
 Yes sire " 
 
 "To quit the sword?" 
 
 "That is done." 
 
 "Impossible, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Louis firmly. 
 
 "But, sire " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Because I will that you shall not!" said the young 
 prince, in a voice so stern and imperious that D'Artagnan 
 evinced surprise and even uneasiness. 
 
 "Will your majesty allow me one word of reply?" said he. 
 
 "Speak." 
 
 "I formed that resolution when I was poor and destitute." 
 
 "So be it. Go on." 
 
 "Now, when by my industry I have acquired a comforta- 
 ble means of subsistence, would your majesty despoil me 
 of my liberty? Your majesty would condemn me to the 
 least, when I have gained the most." 
 
 "Who gave you permission, monsieur, to fathom my de- 
 signs, or to reckon Avith me?" replied Louis, in a voice 
 almost angry; "who told you what I shall do or what you 
 will yourself do?" 
 
 "Sire," said the musketeer quietly, "as far as I see, 
 freedom is not the order of the conversation, as it was on 
 the day we came to an explanation at Blois." 
 
 "No, monsieur; everything is changed." 
 
 "I make your majesty my sincere compliments upon 
 that, but " 
 
 "But you don't believe it?" 
 
 "I am not a great statesman, and yet I have my eye upon 
 affairs; it seldom fails; now. I do not see exactly as your 
 majesty does, sire. The reign of Mazarin is over, but that 
 of the financiers is begun. They have the money; your 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE. 34? 
 
 majesty will not often see much of it. To live under the 
 paw of these hungry wolves is hard for a man who reck- 
 oned upon independence." 
 
 At this moment some one scratched at the door of the 
 cabinet; the king raised his head proudly. "Your pardon, 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan," said he; "it is Monsieur Colbert, 
 who comes to make me a report. Come in, Monsieur 
 Colbert." 
 
 D'Artagnan drew back. Colbert entered with papers in 
 his hand, and went up to the king. There can be little 
 doubt that the Gascon did not lose the opportunity of 
 applying his keen, quick glance to the new figure which 
 presented itself. 
 
 "Is the inquiry then made?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "And the opinion of the inquisitors?" 
 
 "Is that the accused merit confiscation and death." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said the king, without changing countenance, 
 and casting an oblique look at D'Artagnan. "And your 
 own opinion, Monsieur Colbert?" said he. 
 
 Colbert looked at D'Artagnan in his turn. That impos- 
 ing countenance checked the words upon his lips. Louis 
 perceived this. "Do not disturb yourself," said he; "it is 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan; do you not know Monsieur d'Artag- 
 nan again?" 
 
 These two men looked at each other — D'Artagnan, with 
 his eye open and bright; Colbert, with his eye half-closed 
 and dim. The frank intrepidity of the one displeased the 
 other; the cautious circumspection of the financier dis- 
 pleased the soldier. "Ah! ah! this is the gentleman who 
 made that brilliant stroke in England," said Colbert. And 
 he bowed slightly to D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said the Gascon, "this is the gentleman who 
 clipped off the lace from the uniform of the Swiss! A 
 praiseworthy piece of economy." 
 
 The financier thought to embarrass the musketeer; but 
 the musketeer ran the financier right through. 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnan," resumed the king, who had not 
 remarked all the shades of which Mazarin would not have 
 missed one, "this concerns the farmers of the revenue who 
 have robbed me, whom I am hanging, and whose death- 
 warrants I am about to sign." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said D'Artagnan, starting. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing, sire. This is no business of mine." 
 
348 THE VICOMTE I)E BRAGELONNE. 
 
 The king had already taken up the pen, and was apply- 
 ing it to the paper. "Sire," said Colbert, in a subdued 
 voice, "I beg to warn your majesty that if an example be 
 necessary that example may find some difficulty in the 
 execution." 
 
 "What do you say?" said Louis. 
 
 "You must not conceal from yourself," continued Col- 
 bert quietly, "that attacking the farmers-general ia attack- 
 ing the surintendance. The two unfortunate guilty men 
 in question aro the particular friends of a powerful person- 
 age, and the day of punishment, which otherwise might be 
 stifled in the Chatelet, disturbances will arise Avithout 
 doubt." 
 
 Louis colored and turned toAvard D'Artagnan, who took 
 a slight bite at his mustache, not without a smile of pity 
 for the financier, as likeAvise for the king AA r ho had to listen 
 to him so long. But Louis seized the pen, and with a 
 movement so rapid that his hand shook, he affixed his sig- 
 nature at the bottom of the tAvo papers presented by Colbert, 
 then looking the latter in the face, "Monsieur Colbert," 
 said he, "when you speak to me of affairs, exclude more 
 frequently the Avord difficulty from your reasonings and 
 opinions; as to the Avord impossibility, neA r er pronounce it." 
 
 Colbert bowed, much humiliated at having undergone 
 such a lesson before the musketeer. He Avas about to go 
 out, but, jealous to repair his check, "I forgot to announce 
 to your majesty," said he, "that the confiscations amount 
 to the sum of five millions of livres." 
 
 "That's pretty!" thought D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Which makes in my coffers?" said the king. 
 
 "Eighteen millions of livres, sire," replied Colbert, 
 bowing. 
 
 "Mordioux!" grumbled D'Artagnan, "that's glorious!" 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert," added the king, "you will, if you 
 please, go through the gallery Avhere Monsieur Lyonne is 
 Avaiting, and tell him to bring hither what he has drawn up 
 — by my order." 
 
 "Directly, sire; if your majesty wants me no more this 
 evening." 
 
 "No, monsieur; adieu!" And Colbert went out. 
 
 "Now, let us return to our affair, Monsieur dWrtagnan." 
 said the king, as if nothing had happened. "You see that, 
 with respect to money, there is already a notable change?" 
 
 "Something like from zero to eighteen millions," replied 
 the musketeer gayly. "Ah! that was what your majesty 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONNE. 349 
 
 wanted the day King Charles II. came to Blois\. The two 
 states would not have been imbroiled to-day; for I must 
 say, that there also I see another stumbling-block." 
 
 "Well, in the first place," replied Louis, "you are un- 
 just, monsieur; for if Providence had made me able to give 
 my brother the million that day, you would not have quitted 
 my service, and, consequently, you would not have made 
 your fortune, as you told me just now you have done. But, 
 in addition to this, I have had another piece of good for- 
 tune; and my difference with Great Britain need not alarm 
 you." 
 
 A valet de chambre interrupted the king by announcing 
 M. Lyonne. "Come in, monsieur," said the king; "you 
 are punctual; that is like a good servant. Let us see your 
 letter to my brother Charles II." 
 
 D'Artagnan pricked up his ears. "A moment, mon- 
 sieur," said Louis, carelessly, to the Gascon; "I must ex- 
 pedite to London my consent to the marriage of my brother, 
 Monsieur le Due d'Anjou, with the Princess Henrietta 
 Stuart." 
 
 "He is knocking me about, it seems," murmured D'Ar- 
 tagnan, while the king signed the letter, and dismissed M. 
 de Lyonne; "but, ma foi ! the more he knocks me about in 
 this manner, the better I shall be pleased." 
 
 The king followed M. de Lyonne with his eye, till the 
 door was closed behind him; he even made three steps as if 
 he would follow the minister; but, after these three steps, 
 stopping, pausing, and coming back to the musketeer, 
 "Now, monsieur," said he, "let us hasten to terminate our 
 affair. You told me the other day, at Blois, that you were 
 not rich?" 
 
 "But I am now, sire." 
 
 "Yes; but that does not concern me; you have your own 
 money, not mine; that does not enter into my account." 
 
 "1 do not well understand what your majesty means." 
 
 "Then, instead of leaving you to draw out our words, 
 speak spontaneously. Should you be satisfied with twenty 
 thousand livres a year as a fixed income?" 
 
 "But, sire," said D'Artagnan, opening his eyes to the 
 utmost. 
 
 "Would you be satisfied with four horses furnished and 
 kept, and with a supplement of funds such as you should 
 require, according to ocoasions and needs, or would you 
 prefer a fixed sum which would be, for example, forty thou- 
 sand livres? Answer." 
 
350 THE VICOMTfc DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 "Sire, your majesty " 
 
 "Yes, you are surprised; that is natural, and I expected 
 it. Answer me, come! or 1 shall think you have no longer 
 that rapidity of judgment I have so much admired in you." 
 
 "It is certain, sire, that twenty thousand livres a year 
 make a handsome sum; but " 
 
 "No buts! Yes or no; is it an honorable indemnity?" 
 
 "Oh! certes " 
 
 "You will be satisfied with it? Well, that is well. It 
 will be better to reckon the extra expenses separately; you 
 can arrange that with Colbert. Now, let us pass to some- 
 thing more important." 
 
 "But, sire, I told your majesty " 
 
 "That you wanted rest, I know you did; only I replied 
 that I would not allow it — I am master, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "That is well. You were formerly in the way of becom- 
 ing captain of the musketeers?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "Well, here is your commission signed. I placed it in 
 this drawer. The day on which you shall return from a 
 certain expedition which I have to confide to you, on that 
 day you may yourself take the commission from the drawer. " 
 D'Artagnan still hesitated, and hung down his head. 
 "Come, monsieur," said the king, "one would believe, to 
 look at you, that you did not know that at the court of the 
 most Christian king, the captain-general of the musketeers 
 takes precedence of the marecbals of France." 
 
 "Sire, I know he does." 
 
 "Then I must fancy you do not put faith in my word?" 
 
 "Oh! sire, never — never dream of such a thing." 
 
 "I have wished to prove to you that you, so good a serv 
 ant, had lost a good master; am 1 anything like the master 
 that will suit you?" 
 
 "I begin to think you are, sire." 
 
 "Then, monsieur, you will resume your functions. Your 
 company is quite disorganized since your departure, and 
 the men go about drinking and rioting in the cabarets, 
 where they fight, in spite of my edicts, or those of my 
 father. You will reorganize the service as soon as possible." 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "You will not again quit my person." 
 
 "Very well, sire." 
 
 "You will march with me to the army, you will encamp 
 round my tent." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 35. 
 
 ''Then, sire," said D'Artagnan, "if it is only to iirpose 
 upon me a service like that, your majesty need not give me 
 twenty thousand livres a year. I shall not earn them." 
 
 "I desire that you shall keep open house; I desire that 
 you shall keep an open table; I desire that my captain of 
 musketeers shall be a personage." 
 
 "And I," said D'Artagnan bluntly, "I do not like easily 
 found money; I like money won. Your majesty gives me 
 an idle trade, which the first-comer would perform for four 
 thousand livres." 
 
 Louis XIV. began to laugh. "You are a true Gascon, 
 Monsieur d'Artagnan; you will draw my heart's secret from 
 me." 
 
 "Bah! has your majesty a secret, then?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Well, then, I accept the twenty thousand livres, for I 
 will keep that secret, and discretion is above all price, in 
 these times. Will your majesty speak now?" 
 
 "You will get booted, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and mount 
 on horseback." 
 
 "Directly, sire?" 
 
 "Within two days." 
 
 "That is well, sire; for I have my affairs to settle before 
 I set out; particularly if it is likely there should be any 
 blows stirring." 
 
 "That may happen." 
 
 "We can receive them. But, sire, you have addressed 
 yourself to the avarice, to the ambition; you have addressed 
 yourself to the heart of Monsieur d'Artagnan, but you have 
 forgotten one thing." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "You have said nothing to his vanity; when shall I be a 
 knight of the king's orders?" 
 
 "Does that interest you?" 
 
 "Why, yes, sire. My friend Athos is quite covered with 
 orders, and that dazzles me." 
 
 "You shall be a knight of my order a month after you 
 have taken your commission of captain." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said the officer thoughtfully, "after the 
 expedition." 
 Precisely." 
 
 "Where is your majesty going to send meP'° 
 
 "Are you acquainted with Bretagne?'' 
 
 "No, sire." 
 
 "Have you any friends there?" 
 
359 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "In Bretagne? No, ma foil" 
 
 "So much the better. Do you know anything about 
 fortifications?" 
 
 "I believe I do, sire," said D'Artagnan, smiling. 
 
 "That is to say, you can readily distinguish a fortress 
 from a simple fortification, such as is allowed to chatelaines 
 or vassals?" 
 
 "I distinguish a fort from a rampart as I distinguish a 
 cuirass from a raised pie-crust, sire. Is that sufficient?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur. You will set out, then," 
 
 "For Bretagne?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Alone?' 
 
 "Absolutely alone. That is to say, you must not even 
 take a lackey with you." 
 
 "May I ask your majesty for what reason?" 
 
 "Because, monsieur, it will be necessary to disguise your- 
 self sometimes as the servant of a good family. Your face 
 is very well known in France, Monsieur d'Artagnan." 
 
 "And then, sire?" 
 
 "And then you will travel slowly through Bretagne, and 
 will examine carefully the fortifications of that country." 
 
 "The coasts?" _ 
 
 "Yes, and the isles; commencing by Belle-Isle-en-Mer." 
 
 "Ah! which belongs to Monsieur Fouquet?" said D'Ar- 
 tagnan, in a serious tone, raising his intelligent eve to Louis 
 XIV. 
 
 "I fancy you are right, monsieur, and that Belle-Isle does 
 belong to Monsieur Fouquet, in fact." 
 
 "Then your majesty wishes me to ascertain if Belle-Isle is 
 a good place?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "If the fortifications of it are new or old?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "And if the vassals of Monsieur Fouquet are sufficiently 
 numerous to form a garrison?" 
 
 "That is what I want to know; you have placed your 
 finger on the question." 
 
 ''And if they are not fortifying, sire?" 
 
 "You will travel about Bretagne, listening and judging.' 1 
 
 "Then I am a king's spy?" said D'Artagnan bluntly ; 
 twisting his mustache. 
 
 "No, monsieur." 
 
 "Your pardon, sire; I spy on your majesty's account." 
 
 "You go on a discovery, monsieur. Would you march ai 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 353 
 
 the head of your musketeers, with your sword in your hand, 
 to ohserve any spot whatever, or an enemy's position?" 
 
 At this word D'Artagnan started. 
 
 "Do you," continued the king, "imagine yourself to be 
 a spy?" 
 
 "No, no," said D'Artagnan, but pensively; "the thing 
 changes its face when one observes an enemy; one is but a 
 soldier. And if they are fortifying Belle-Isle?" added he 
 quickly. 
 
 "You will take an exact plan of the fortifications," 
 
 "Will they permit me to enter?" 
 
 "That does not concern me; that is your affair. Did you 
 not understand that I reserved for you a supplement of 
 twenty thousand livres per annum, if you wished for it?" 
 
 "Yes, sire; but if they are not fortifying?" 
 
 "You will return quietly, without fatiguing your horse." 
 
 "Sire, I am ready." 
 
 "You will begin to-morrow by going to Monsieur le Sur- 
 intendant to take the first quarter of the pension I give 
 you. Do you know Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "Very little, sire; but I beg your majesty to observe that 
 I don't think it very urgent that I should know him. 
 
 "I ask your pardon, monsieur; for he will refuse you the 
 money I wish you to take; and it is that refusal I look for." 
 
 "Ah!" said D'Artagnan. "Next, sire?" 
 
 "The money being refused, you will go and seek it at 
 Monsieur Colbert's. Apropos, have you a good horse?" 
 
 "An excellent one, sire." 
 
 "How much did it cost you?" 
 
 "A hundred and fifty pistoles." 
 
 "I will buy it of you. Here is a note for two hundred 
 pistoles." 
 
 "But I want my horse for my journey, sire." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, and you take mine from me." 
 
 "Not at all. On the contrary, I give it you. Only, as it is 
 now mine, and not yours, I am sure you will not spare it." 
 
 "Your majesty is in a hurry, then!" 
 
 "A great hurry." 
 
 "Then, what compels me to wait two days?" 
 
 "Reasons known to myself." 
 
 "That's a different affair. The horse may make up the 
 two days in the eight he has to do; and then there is the 
 post." 
 
 "No, no; the post compromises, Monsieur d'Artagnan. 
 Be gone, and do not forget you are mine." 
 
354 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Sire, it was not I who ever forgot it. At what nour to 
 morrow shall I take my leave of your majesty?" 
 
 "Where do you lodge?" 
 I must henceforward lodge at the Louvre. 
 That must not be now; keep your lodgings in the city ; 
 i will pay for them. As to your departure, it must take 
 pla^e at night; you must set out without being seen by any 
 one, or, if you are seen, it must not be known that yor 
 belong to me. A close mouth, monsieur." 
 
 ''Your majesty spoils all you have said by that single 
 word." 
 
 "I asked you where you lodged, for I cannot always send 
 to Monsieur le Comte de la Fere to seek you." 
 
 "I lodge with Monsieur Planchet, a grocer, Rue des 
 Lombards, at the sign of the Pilon d'Or." 
 
 "Go out but little, show yourself still less, and await my 
 orders." 
 
 "And yet, sire, I must go for the money." 
 
 "That is true; but, when going to the surintendance, 
 where so many people are constantly going, you must 
 mingle with the crowd." 
 
 "I want the notes, sire, for the money." 
 
 "Here they are." 
 
 The king signed them, and D'Artagnan looked on, to 
 assure himself of the regularity. 
 
 "That is money," said he, "and money is either read or 
 counted. 
 
 "Adieu, Monsieur d'Artagnan," added the king. "I 
 think you have perfectly understood me." 
 
 "I! I understood that your majesty sends me to Belle 
 Isle-en-Mer, that is all." 
 
 "To learn?" 
 
 : 'To learn how Monsieur Fouquet's works are going on: 
 that is all." 
 
 "Very well; I admit you may be taken." 
 
 "And I do not admit it," replied the Gascon boldly. 
 
 "I admit that you may be killed," continued the king. 
 
 "That is not probable, sire." 
 
 "In the first case, you must not speak; in the second, 
 Jiere must be no paper found upon you to speak." 
 
 D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders without ceremony, 
 and took leave of the king, saying to himself: 
 
 "The English shower continues — let us remain under th» 
 spout. " 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE. 355 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. . 
 
 THE HOUSES OF M. FOITQUET. 
 
 While D'Artagnan was returning to Planchet's house, 
 his head aching and bewildered with all that had happened 
 to him, there was passing a scene of quite a different char- 
 acter, and which, nevertheless, is not foreign to the conver- 
 sation our musketeer had just had with the king; only this 
 scene took place out of Paris, in a house possessed by the 
 surintendant Fouquet in the village of St. Mande. The 
 minister had just arrived at this country-house, followed by 
 his principal clerk, who carried an enormous portfolio full 
 of papers to be examined, and others waiting for signature. 
 As it might be about five o'clock in the afternoon, the mas- 
 ters had dined; supper was being prepared for twenty 
 subaltern guests. The surintendant did not stop; on 
 alighting from his carriage, he, at the same bound, sprang 
 through the doorway, traversed the apartments and gained 
 his cabinet, where he declared he would shut himself up to 
 work, commanding that he should not be disturbed for any- 
 thing but an order from the king. As soon as this order 
 was given, Fouquet shut himself up, and two footmen were 
 placed as sentinels at his door. Then Fouquet pushed a 
 bolt which displaced a panel that walled up the entrance, 
 and prevented everything that passed in this apartment 
 from being either seen or heard. But, against all probabil- 
 ity, it was only for the sake of shutting himself up that 
 Fouquet shut himself up thus, for he went straight to a 
 bureau, seated himself at it, opened the portfolio, and began 
 to make a choice in the enormous mass of papers it con- 
 tained. It was not more than ten minutes after he had 
 entered, and taken all the precautions we have described, 
 when the repeated noise of several slight equal strokes 
 struck his ear, and appeared to fix all his attention. Fou- 
 quet raised his head, turned his ear, and listened. 
 
 The little strokes continued. Then the worker arose 
 with a slight movement of impatience and walked straight 
 up to a glass behind which the blows were struck by a hand 
 or by some invisible mechanism. It was a large glass let 
 into a panel. Three other glasses, exactly similar to it, 
 completed the symmetry of the apartment. Nothing dis- 
 tinguished that from the others. Without doubt, these 
 reiterated little strokes were a signal, for at the moment 
 
35G THE VICOMTE DE BEAOELONNE. 
 
 Fouquet approached the glass, listening, the same noise 
 was renewed, and in the same measure. 
 
 ''Oh! oh!" murmured the intendant, with surprise, "who 
 is yonder? I did not expect anybody to-day." And, with- 
 out doubt, to respond to that signal, he pulled a gilded 
 nail in that same glass, and shook it thrice. Then, return- 
 ing to his place, and seating himself again, "Ma foil let 
 them wait." said he. And, plunging again into the ocean 
 of papers unrolled before him, he appeared to think of 
 nothing any longer but work. 
 
 In fact, with incredible rapidity and marvelous lucidity, 
 Fouquet deciphered the largest papers and most compli- 
 cated writings, correcting them, annotating them with a 
 pen moved as if by a fever, and the work melting under his 
 hands, signatures, figures, references, became multiplied as 
 if ten clerks — that is to say, a hundred fingers and ten 
 brains — had performed the duties, instead of the five fingers 
 and single brain of this man. From time to time only, 
 Fouquet, absorbed by his work, raised his head to cast a 
 furtive glance upon a clock placed before him. The reason 
 of this was, Fouquet set himself a task, and when this task 
 was once set, in one hour's work, he, by himself, did what 
 another would not have accomplished in a day; always cer- 
 tain, consequently, provided he was not disturbed, to arrive 
 at the end in the time his devouring activity had fixed. 
 But in the midst of his ardent labor, the dry strokes upon 
 the little bell placed behind the glass sounded again once 
 more, hasty, and, consequently, more urgent. 
 
 "The lady appears to begin to be impatient," said Fou- 
 quet. "Humph! a calm! That must be the comtesse; 
 but, no, the comtesse is gone to Rambouillet for three days. 
 The presidente, then? Oh! no, the presidente would not 
 assume such grand airs; she would ring very humbly, then 
 she would wait my good pleasure. The clearest of all is, 
 that I may not know who it can be, but that I know who 
 it cannot be. And since it is not you, marquise, since it 
 cannot be you, deuce take the rest!" And he went on with 
 his work, in spite of the reiterated appeals of the bell. At 
 the end of a quarter of an hour, however, impatience pre- 
 vailed over Fouquet in his turn; he might be said to burn, 
 rather than to complete the rest of his work; he thrust his 
 papers into his portfolio, and giving a glance at the mirror, 
 while the taps continued to be faster than ever, "Oh! oh!" 
 said he, "whence comes all this racket? What has hap- 
 pened, and who can the Ariadne be who expects me so im- 
 patiently? Letu&|ef 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 357 
 
 He then applied the tip of his finger to the nail parallel 
 to the one he had drawn. Immediately the glass moved 
 like the fold of a door and discovered a secret closet, rather 
 deep, in which the surintendant disappeared as if going 
 into a vast box. When there, he touched another spring, 
 which opened, not a board, but a block of the wall, and he 
 went out by that opening, leaving the door to shut of itself. 
 Then Fouquet descended about a score of steps which sank, 
 winding, underground, and came to a long, subterranean 
 passage lighted by imperceptible loopholes. The walls of 
 this vault were covered with slabs or tiles, and the floor 
 with carpeting. This passage was under" the street itself, 
 which separated Fouquet's house from the Park of Vincen- 
 nes. At the end of the passage ascended a winding stair- 
 case parallel with that by which Fouquet had entered. He 
 mounted these other stairs, entered by means of a spring 
 placed in a eloset similar to that in his cabinet, and from 
 this closet into a chamber perfectly empty, although fur- 
 nished with the utmost elegance. As soon as he entered 
 he examined carefully whether the glass closed without 
 leaving any trace; and doubtless, satisfied with his observa- 
 tion, he opened by means of a small gold key the triple 
 fastenings of a door in front of him. This time the door 
 opened upon a handsome cabinet, sumptuously furnished, 
 in which was seated upon cushions a lady of surpassing 
 beauty, who at the sound of the lock sprang toward 
 Fouquet. 
 
 "Ah, good heavens!" cried the latter, starting back with 
 astonishment. "Madame la Marquise de Belliere, you 
 here?" 
 "Yes," murmured la marquise. "Yes; it is I, monsieur." 
 "Marquise, dear marquise!" added Fouquet, ready to 
 prostrate himself. "Ah, my God! how did you come here? 
 And I to keep you waiting!" 
 
 "A long time, monsieur; yes, a very long time." 
 'I am happy in thinking this waiting has appeared long 
 to you, marquise!" 
 
 "Oh! an eternity, monsieur; oh! I rang more than twenty 
 times. Did you not hear me?" 
 
 "Marquise, you are pale, you tremble." 
 
 "Did you not hear, then, that you were summoned?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I heard plainly enough, madame; but I could 
 
 not come. After your rigor and your refusal, how could I 
 
 dream it was you? If I could have had any suspicion of 
 
 the happiness that awaited me, believe me, madame., J 
 
358 THE YICOMTE DE BRARELOXXE. 
 
 would have quitted everything to fall at your feet, as 1 da 
 at this moment." 
 
 "Are we quite alone, monsieur?" asked the marquise, 
 looking round the room, 
 
 "Oh, yes, madame, I can assure you of that." 
 
 "'Really?" said the marquise, in a melancholy tone. 
 
 "You sigh," said Fouquet. 
 
 "What mysteries! what precautions!" said the marquise, 
 with a slight bitterness of expression; "and how evident it 
 is that you fear the least suspicion of your amours to 
 escape." 
 
 "Would you prefer their being made public?" 
 
 "Oh, no; you act like a delicate man," said the marquise, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Come, dear marquise, punish me not with reproaches, 
 I implore you." 
 
 "Keproaches! Have I a right to make you any?" 
 
 "No, unfortunately, no; but tell me, you, who during i 
 year I have loved without return or hope " 
 
 "You are mistaken — without hope, it is true, but not 
 without return." 
 
 "What! for me, to my love? there is but one proof, and 
 that proof I still want." 
 
 "I am come to bring it to you, monsieur." 
 
 Fouquet wished to clasp her in his arms, but she disen- 
 gaged herself with a gesture. 
 
 "You persist in deceiving yourself, monsieur, and never 
 will accept of me the only thing I am willing to give you — 
 devotion." 
 
 "Ah, then, you do not love me? Devotion is but a vir- 
 tue, love is a passion." 
 
 "Listen to me, I implore you; I should not have come 
 hither without a serious motive; you are well assured of 
 that, are you not?" 
 
 "The motive is of very little consequence, so that yo . 
 are but here — so that I see you — so that I speak to you!" 
 
 "You are right; the principal thing is that I am here 
 without any one having seen me, and that I can speak to 
 you." 
 
 Fouquet sank on his knees before her. "Speak, speak, 
 madame!" said he. "I listen to you." 
 
 The marquise looked at Fouquet on his knees at her feet, 
 and there was in the looks of the woman a strange mixture 
 of love and melancholy. 
 
 "Oh!" at length murmured she, "would tliat J were she 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 3^3 
 
 who has the right of seeing you every minute, of speaking 
 to you every instant! would A ,hat I were she who might 
 watch over you, she who would have no need of mysterious 
 springs to summon and cause to appear, like a sylph, the 
 man she loves, to look at him for an hour, and then see 
 him disappear in the darkness of a mystery, still more 
 strange at his going out than it had heen at his coming in. 
 Oh! that would be to be a happy woman!" 
 
 "Do you happen, marquise/' said Fouquet, smiling, "to 
 fee speaking of my wife?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly, of her I spoke." 
 
 "Well, you need not envy her lot, marquise; of all the 
 women with whom I am in relation, Madame Fouquet is 
 the one I see the least of, and who has the least intercourse 
 with me." 
 
 "At least, monsieur, she is not reduced to place, as I 
 have done, her hand upon the ornament of a glass to call 
 you to her; at least you do not reply to her by the mys- 
 terious, frightful sound of a bell, the spring of which comes 
 from I don't know where; at least you have not forbidden 
 her to endeavor to discover the secret of these communica- 
 tions under pain of breaking off forever your connections 
 with her, as you have forbidden all who have come here 
 before me, and all who shall come after me." 
 
 "Dear marquise, how unjust you are, and how little do 
 you know what you are doing in thus exclaiming against 
 mystery; it is with mystery alone we can love without 
 trouble; it is with love without trouble alone that we can 
 be happy. But let us return to ourselves, to that devotion 
 of which you were speaking, or, rather, let me labor under 
 a pleasing delusion, and believe that this devotion is love." 
 
 "Just now," repeated the marquise, passing over her 
 eyes a hand that might have been a model for the graceful 
 contours of antiquity — "just now I was prepared to speak, 
 my ideas were clear, bold, now I am quite confused, quite 
 troubled; I fear I bring you bad news." 
 
 "If it is to that bad news I owe your presence, marquise, 
 welcome be that bad news; or, rather, marquise, since you 
 allow that I am not quite indifferent to you, let me heal 
 nothing of the bad news, but speak of yourself." 
 
 "No, no; on the contrary, demand it of me; require ma 
 to tell it to you instantly, and not to allow myself to be 
 turned aside by any feeling whatever. Fouquet, my friend, 
 it is of immense importance." 
 
 "You astonish me, marquise; I will even say you almost 
 
360 THE VICOMTE DE BEAOELOXNE. 
 
 frighten me. You, so serious, so collected; you who know 
 the world we live in so well. Is it, then, important?" 
 
 "Oh, very important!" 
 
 "In the first place, how did you come here?"- 
 
 "You shall know that presently; but, first, to something 
 of more consequence." 
 
 "Speak, marquise, speak! I implore you, have pity on 
 my impatience." 
 
 "Do you know that Colbert is made intendant of the 
 finances?" 
 
 "Bah! Colbert, little Colbert?" 
 
 "Yes, Colbert, little Colbert." 
 
 "Mazarin's factotum?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "Well, what do you see so terrific in that, dear marquise? 
 Little Colbert is intendant; that is astonishing, I confess, 
 but is not terrific." 
 
 "Do you think the king has given, without a pressing 
 motive, such a place to one you call a little cuistre?" 
 
 "In the first place, is it positively true that the king has 
 given it to him?" 
 
 "It is so said." 
 
 "Ay, but who says so?" 
 
 "Everybody." 
 
 "Everybody? that is nobody; mention some one likely to 
 be well informed who says so." 
 
 "Madame Vanel." 
 
 "Ah! now you begin to frighten me in earnest," said 
 Fouquet, laughing; "if any one is well informed, or ought 
 to be well informed, it is the person you name." 
 
 "Do not speak ill of poor Marguerite, Monsieur Fouquet, 
 for she still loves you." 
 
 "Bah! indeed? That is scarcely credible. I thought 
 little Colbert, as you said just now, had passed over that 
 love, and left the impression upon it of a spot of ink or a 
 stain of grease." 
 
 "Fouquet! Fouquet! Is this the way you always are 
 for the poor women you desert?" 
 
 "Why, you surely are not going to undertake the defense 
 of Madame Vanel?" 
 
 ''Yes, I will undertake it; for, I repeat, she loves you 
 still, and the proof is she saves you." 
 
 "But your interposition, marquise; that is very cunning 
 on her part. No angel could be more agreeable to me. or 
 could lead me more certainly to salvation. But, let me 
 ask you, do you know Marguerite?" 
 
THE Y100MTE DE BRAGELONNE. 361 
 
 "She was my convent friend." 
 
 "And you say that she has informed you that Monsieur 
 vJolbert was named intendant?" 
 
 "Yes, she did." 
 
 "Well, enlighten me, marquise; granted Monsieur Col- 
 bert is intendant — so be it — in what can an intendant, that 
 is to say, my subordinate, my clerk, give me umbrage or 
 injure me, even were he Monsieur Colbert?" 
 
 "You do not reflect, monsieur, apparently," replied the 
 marquise. 
 
 "Upon what?" 
 
 "This: that Monsieur Colbert hates you." 
 
 "Hates me!" cried Fouquet. "Good heavens! marquise, 
 whence do you come? where can you live? Hates me 
 why, all the world hates me, he as others do." 
 
 "He more than others." 
 
 "More than others? Let him." 
 
 "He is ambitious." 
 
 "Who is not, marquise?" 
 
 "Yes, but with him ambition has no bounds." 
 
 "I am quite aware of that, since he made it a point to 
 succeed me with Madame Vanel." 
 
 "And obtained his end; look to that." 
 
 "Do you mean to say he has the presumption to hope to 
 pass from intendant to surintendant?" 
 
 "Have you not yourself already had the same fear?" 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said Fouquet; "to succeed with Madame 
 Vanel is one thing, to succeed me with the king is another. 
 France is not to be purchased so easily as the wife of a 
 tnaitre des comtes." 
 
 "Eh, monsieur, everything is to be bought; if not by 
 gold, by intrigue." 
 
 "Nobody knows to the contrary better than you, ma- 
 dame, you to whom I have offered millions." 
 
 "Instead of millions, Fouquet, you should have offered 
 me a true, only, and boundless love; I might have accepted 
 that. So, you see, still, everything is to be bought, if not 
 in one way, by another." 
 
 "So Colbert, in your opinion, is in a fair way of bargain- 
 ing for my place of surintendant. Make yourself easy on 
 that head, my dear marquise, he is not yet rich enough to 
 purchase it." 
 
 "But if he should rob you of it?" 
 
 "Ah! that is another thing. Unfortunately, before he 
 can reach me, that is to say, the body of the place, he must 
 
302 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 destroy, must make a breach in the advanced works, and 1 
 am devilishly well fortified, marquise." 
 
 "What you call your advanced works are your creatures, 
 are they not — \our friends?" 
 
 "Exactly so." 
 
 "And is Monsieur d'Eymeris one of your creatures?" 
 
 "Yes, he is." 
 
 "Is Monsieur Lyodot one of your friends?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Monsieur de Vanin?" 
 
 "Monsieur de Vanin! Ah! they may do what tney uko 
 with him, but " 
 
 "But " 
 
 "But the^ must not touch the others?" 
 
 "Well, if you are anxious they should not touch Mes- 
 sieurs d'Evmeris and Lyodot, it is time to look about you." 
 
 "Who threatens them?" 
 
 "Will you listen to me now?" 
 
 "Attentively, marquise." 
 
 "Without interrupting me?" 
 
 "Speak."_ 
 
 "Well, this morning Marguerite sent for me." 
 
 "And what did she want with you?" 
 
 " '1 dare not see Monsieur Fouquet myself,' said she." 
 
 "Bah! why should she think I would reproach her? Poor 
 woman, she vastly deceives herself." 
 
 " 'See him yourself/ said she, 'and tell him to beware of 
 Monsieur Colbert.' " 
 
 "What! she warned me to beware of her lover?" 
 
 "I have told you she still loves you." 
 
 "Go on, marquise." 
 
 " 'Monsieur Colbert,' she added, 'came to me two hours 
 ago, to inform me he was appointed intendant.' " 
 
 "I ha\e already told you, marquise, that Monsieur Col- 
 bert would only be the more in my power for that." 
 
 "Yes, but that is not all; Marguerite is intimate, as you 
 know, with Madame d'Eymeris and Madame Lyodot." 
 
 "I know she is." 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Colbert put many questions to her rela« 
 tive to the fortunes of those two gentlemen, and as to the 
 devotion they had for you." 
 
 "Oh, as to those two, I can answer for them*, they must 
 be killed before they can cease to be mine." 
 
 "Then, as Madame Vanel was obliged to quit Monsieur 
 Colbert for an instant to receive a visitor, and as Monsieur 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 363 
 
 Colbert is industrious, scarcely was the new intendant left 
 alone before he took a pencil from his pocket, and, as thee 
 was paper on the table, began to make pencil notes." 
 
 "Notes concerning D'Eymeris and Lyodot?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "I should like to know what those notes were about ' 
 
 "And that is just what I have brought you." 
 
 "Madame Vanel has taken Colbert's notes and sent trftm 
 to me?" 
 
 "No; but by a chance which resembles a miracle she has 
 a duplicate of those notes." 
 
 "How could she get that?" 
 
 "Listen; I told you that Colbert found some paper on 
 the table." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That he had taken a pencil from his pocket." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And had written upon that paper." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, this pencil was a lead-pencil, consequently hard; 
 so it marked in black upon the first sheet, and in white 
 upon the second." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "Colbert, when tearing off the first sheet, took no notice 
 of the second." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, on the second was to be read what had been writ- 
 ten on the first; Madame Vanel read it, and sent for me." 
 
 "Ay, ay." 
 
 "Then, when she was assured I was your devoted friend, 
 she gave me the paper, and told me the secret of that 
 house." 
 
 "And this paper?" said Fouquet, in some degree of 
 agitation. 
 
 "Here it is, monsieur — read it/' said the marquise. 
 
 Fouquet read: 
 
 "Names of the farmers of the revenue to be condemned 
 by the Chamber of Justice: D'Eymeris, friend of M. F.; 
 Lyodot, friend of M. F.; De Vanin, indif." 
 
 "D'Eymeris and Lyodot!" cried Fouquet, reading the 
 paper eagerly again. 
 
 "Friends of M. F./' pointed the marquise with hei 
 finger. 
 
364 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 "But what is the meaning of these words: "To be con- 
 demned by the Chamber of Justice?' " 
 
 "Dame!" said the marquise, "that is clear enough, 1 
 think. Besides, that is not all. Read on, read on;" and 
 Fouquet continued: 
 
 "The first two to death, the third to be dismissed; with 
 Messieurs d 5 Hautemont and De la Valette, who will only 
 have their property confiscated." 
 
 "Great God!" cried Fouquet, "to death, to death! 
 Lyodot and D'Eymeris. But even if the Chamber of. Jus- 
 tice should condemn them to death, the king will never 
 ratify their condemnation, and they cannot be executed 
 without the king's signature." 
 
 "The king has made Monsieur ^Colbert intendant." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Fouquet, as if he caught a glimpse of a 
 yawning abyss beneath his feet, "impossible! impossible! 
 But who passed a pencil over the marks made by Colbert?" 
 
 "I did. 1 was afraid the first would be effaced," 
 
 "Oh! I will know all." 
 
 "You will know nothing, monsieur; you despise your 
 enemy too much for that." 
 
 "Pardon me. my diar marquise; excuse me; yes, Mon- 
 sieur Colbert is my enemy, 1 believe him to be so; yes, Mon- 
 sieur Colbert is a man to be dreaded, 1 admit. But I — I 
 have time, and as you are here, as you have assured me of 
 your devotion, as you have allowed me to hope for your 
 love, as we are alone " 
 
 "I came here to save you, Monsieur Fouquet, and not to 
 ruin myself," said the marquise, rising; "therefore beware!'' 
 
 "Marquise, in truth you terrify yourself too much, at 
 least, unless this terror is but a pretext " 
 
 "He has a deep heart, that Monsieur Colbert; bewared 
 
 Fouquet, in his turn, drew himself up. 
 
 "And I?" asked he. 
 
 "And you, you have only a noble heart. Beware^ be- 
 
 ware 
 
 r» 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "I have done what 1 ought, my friend, at the risk of my 
 reputation. Adieu." 
 
 "Not adieu, au revoir." 
 
 "Perhaps," said the marquise, giving her hand to bouquet 
 to kiss, and walking toward the door wi^h so firm a step 
 that he did not dare to bar her passage. As to Fouquet, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 365 
 
 i he retook, with his head hanging down and a cloud over 
 ibis brow, the path of the subterranean passage along which 
 "ran the metal wires that communicated from one house to 
 
 the other, transmitting, through two glasses, the wishes 
 
 and signals of two correspondents. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE ABBE FOUQUET. 
 
 Fouquet hastened back to his apartment by the subter- 
 ranean passage, and immediately closed the mirror with the 
 spring. He was scarcely in his closet when he heard some 
 one knocking violently at the door, and a well-known voice 
 crying: 
 
 "Open the door, monseigneur, I entreat you, open the 
 door!" 
 
 Fouquet quickly restored a little order to everything 
 which might reveal either his absence or his agitation; he 
 spread his papers over the desk, took up a pen, and, to gain 
 time, said, through the closed door: 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "What, monseigneur, do you not know me?" replied the 
 Voice. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Fouquet to himself, "yes, my friend, I 
 know you well enough." And then, aloud: "Is it not 
 Gourville?" 
 
 "Why, yes, monseigneur." 
 
 Fouquet arose, cast a last look at one of his glasses, went 
 to the door, pushed the bolt, and Gourville entered. 
 
 "Ah, monseigneur! monseigneur!" cried he, "what 
 cruelty!" 
 
 "In what?" 
 
 "I have been a quarter of an hour imploring you to open 
 the door, and you would not even answer me." 
 
 "Once for all, you know that I will not be disturbed when 
 I am busy. Now, although I might make you an excep- 
 tion, Gourville, I insist upon my orders being respected by 
 others." 
 
 "Monseigneur, at this moment, orders, doors, bolts, locks, 
 and walls, I could have broken, overthrown, and split them 
 all!" 
 
 "Ah! ah! it relates to some great event, then?" asked 
 Fouquet. 
 
366 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Oh! I assure you it does, monseigneur," replied Gour- 
 ville. 
 
 "And what is this event?" said Fouquet, a little troubled 
 by the evident agitation of his most intimate confidant. 
 
 "There is a secret chamber of justice instituted, mon- 
 seigneur." 
 
 "I know there is; but do the members meet, Gourville?" 
 
 "They not only meet, but they have passed a sentence, 
 monseigneur." 
 
 "A sentence?" said the surintendant, with a shudder and 
 pallor he could not conceal. "A sentence! and against 
 whom?" 
 
 "Against two of your friends." 
 
 "Lyodot and D'Eymeris, do you mean? But what sort 
 cf a sentence?" 
 
 "Sentence of death." 
 
 "Passed? Oh! you must be mistaken, Gourville; that is 
 impossible." 
 
 "Here is a copy of the sentence which the king is to sign 
 to-day, if he has not already signed it." 
 
 Fouquet seized the paper eagerly, read it, and returned 
 it to Gourville. "The king will never sign that," said he. 
 
 Gourville shook his head. 
 
 "Monseigneur, Monsieur Colbert is a bold councilor; do- 
 not trust to that." 
 
 "Monsieur Colbert again!" cried Fouquet. "How is it 
 that that name rises upon all occasions to torment my fears 
 during the last two or three days? You make so trifling a 
 subject of too much importance, Gourville. Let Monsieur 
 Colbert appear, I will face him; let him raise his head, and 
 I will crush him; but, you understand, there must be an 
 asperity upon which my look may fall, there must be a sur- 
 face upon which my feet may be placed." 
 
 "Patience, monseigneur; for you do not know what Col» 
 bert is — study him quickly; it is with this dark financier ai 
 it is with meteors, which the eye never sees completely be- 
 fore their disastrous invasion; when we feel them we are 
 dead." 
 
 "Oh! Gourville, that is going too far," replied Fouquet, 
 smiling; "allow me, my friend, not to be so easily frightened ; 
 Monsieur Colbert a meteor! Corbleu ! we confront the 
 meteor. Let us see acts, and not words. What has he 
 done?" 
 
 ''He has ordered two gibbets of the executioner of Paris/ 
 answered Gourville. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONtfE." 367 
 
 Fouquet raised his head, aud a flash seemed to. strike his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Are you sure of what you say?" cried he. 
 
 "Here is the proof, monseigneur." 
 
 And Gourville held out to the surintendant a note com- 
 municated by one of the secretaries of the Hotel de Ville, 
 who was one of Fouquet's creatures. 
 
 "Yes, that is true," murmured the minister; "the scaf- 
 fold may be prepared, but the king has not signed; Gour- 
 ville, the king will not sign." 
 
 "I will soon know," said Gourville. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "If the king has signed, the gibbets will be sent this 
 evening to the Hotel de Ville, in order to be got up and 
 ready by to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" cried the surintendant, once again; "you 
 are all deceived, and deceive me in my turn. Lyodot came 
 to see me only the day before yesterday; only three days 
 ago I received a present of some Syracuse wine from poor 
 D'Eymeris." 
 
 "What does that prove?" replied Gourville, "except that 
 the chamber of justice has been secretly assembled, has 
 deliberated in the absence of the accused, and that the 
 whole proceeding was complete when they were arrested." 
 
 "What! are they, then, arrested?" 
 
 "No doubt they are." 
 
 "But where, when, how have they been arrested?" 
 
 "Lyodot, yesterday at daybreak; D'Eymeris, the day be- 
 fore yesterday, in the evening, as he was returning from 
 the house of his mistress; their disappearance had disturbed 
 nobody; but at length Monsieur Colbert all at once raised 
 the mask, and caused the affair to be published; it is being 
 cried by sound of trumpet, at this moment, in Paris, and, 
 in truth, monseigneur, there is scarcely anybody but your- 
 self ignorant of the event." 
 
 Fouquet began to walk about his chamber with an uneasi- 
 ness that became more and more serious. 
 
 "What do you decide upon, monseigneur?" said Gour- 
 ville. 
 
 "If it really were as you say, I would go to the king," 
 cried Fouquet. "But as I go to the Louvre, I will pass by 
 the Hotel de Ville. We shall see if the sentence is signed." 
 
 "Incredulity, thou art the pest of all great minds!" said 
 Gourville, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "Gourville!" 
 
t 
 
 368 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGET.ONNE. 
 
 "Yes," continued he, "and, incredulity, thou ruineft 
 them, as contagion destroys the most robust health; that is 
 to say, in an instant." 
 
 "Let us go," cried Fouquet; "desire the door to be 
 opened, Gourville." 
 
 "Be cautious," said the latter, the "Abbe de Fouquet is 
 there." 
 
 "Ah! my brother," replied Fouquet, in a tone of annoy 
 ance; "he is there, is he? he knows all the ill news, then, 
 and is rejoiced to bring it to me, as usual. The devil! it 
 my brother is there, my affairs are bad, Gourville. Why 
 did you not tell me that sooner; I should have been the 
 more readily convinced." 
 
 "Monseigneur calumniates him," said Gourville, laugh- 
 ing, "if he is come, it is not with a bad intention." 
 
 "What! do you excuse him?" cried Fouquet; "a fellow 
 without a heart, without ideas — a devourer of wealth?" 
 
 "He knows you are rich." 
 
 "And would ruin me." 
 
 "No; but he would like to have your purse. That is all. " 
 
 "Enough! enough! A hundred thousand crowns per 
 month, during two years. Corhleu I it is that I pay, Gour- 
 ville, and I know my figures." Gourville laughed in a 
 silent, sly manner. "Yes, yes, you mean to say it is the 
 king pays," says the surintendant. "Ah, Gourville, that 
 is a vile joke; this is not the place." 
 
 "Monseigneur, do not be angry." 
 
 "Well, then, send away the Abbe Fouquet; I have not a 
 sou." Gourville made a step toward the door. "He has 
 been a month without seeing me," continued Fouquet,* 
 "why could he not be two months?" 
 
 "Because he repents of living in bad company," said 
 Gourville, "and prefers you to all his bandits." 
 
 "Thanks for the preference. You make a strange advo- 
 cate, Gourville, to-day — the advocat3 of the Abbe Fouquet."' 
 
 "Eh! but everything and every man has a good side — the 
 useful side, monseigneur." 
 
 "The bandits whom the abbe keeps in pay and drink have 
 their useful side, have they? Prove that, if you please." 
 
 "Let the circumstances arise, monseigneur, and you will 
 be very glad to have these bandits under your hand." 
 
 "You advise me, then, to be reconciled to the abbe?' : 
 said Fouquet ironically. 
 
 "I advise you, monseigneur, not to quarrel with a hun 
 dred or a hundred and twenty loose fellows, who, by put- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 369 
 
 ting their rapiers end to end, would form a cordon of steel 
 capable of surrounding three thousand men." 
 
 Fouquet darted a searching glance at Gourville, and pass- 
 ing before him: 
 
 "That is all very well; let Monsieur l'Abbe Fouquet be 
 introduced," said he to the footman. "You are right, 
 Gourville." 
 
 Two minutes after, the Abbe Fouquet appeared in the 
 doorway, with profound reverences. He was a man of 
 from forty to forty-five years of age, half-churchman, half- 
 soldier — kspadassin grafted upon an abbe; upon seeing that 
 he had not a sword by his side, you might be sure he had 
 pistols. Fouquet saluted him more as an elder brother 
 than as a minister. 
 
 "What can I (xb to serve you, Monsieur l'Abbe?" said he. 
 
 "Oh! oh! how you speak that to me, brother !" 
 
 "I speak it like a man who is in a hurry, monsieur." 
 
 The abbe looked maliciously at Gourrille, and anxiously 
 wt Fouquet, and said: 
 
 "I have three hundred pistoles to pay to Monsieur de 
 E/egi this evening. A play debt, a sacred debt." 
 
 "Next," said Fouquet bravely; for he comprehended 
 that the Abbe Fouquet would not have disturbed him for 
 su ;h a want. 
 
 "'A thousand to my butcher, who will supply no more." 
 
 L 'Next?" 
 
 ''Twelve hundred to my tailor," continued the abbe; 
 "the fellow has made me take back seven suits of my peo- 
 ple's, which compromises my liveries, and my mistress talks 
 of replacing me by a farmer of the revenue, which would 
 be a humiliation for the church." 
 
 "What else is there?" said Fouquet. 
 
 "You will please to remark," said the abbe humbly, 
 "that I have asked nothing for myself." 
 
 "That is delicate, monsieur," replied Fouquet; "so as 
 you see, I wait." 
 
 "And I ask nothing, oh, no; it is not for want of need, 
 though, I assure you." 
 
 The minister reflected a minute. 
 
 "Twelve hundred pistoles to the tailor; that seems a 
 great deal for clothes," said he. 
 
 "1 maintain a hundred men," said the abbe proudly; 
 "that is a charge, I believe." 
 
 "Why a hundred men?" said Fouquet. "Are you & 
 Kichelieu, or a Mazarin, to require a hundred men as a 
 
370 THE VICOMTE DE BRAC4ELONNE. 
 
 guard? What use do you make of these men? — speak— 
 say." 
 
 "And do you ask me that?" cried the Abbe Fouquet. 
 "An! how can you put such a question — why I maintain a 
 hundred men? Ah!" 
 
 "Why, yes, I do put that question to you. What have 
 you to do with a hundred men? Answer." 
 
 "Ingrate!" continued the abbe, more and more affected. 
 
 "Explain yourself." 
 
 "Why, Monsieur le Surintendant, I only want one valet 
 de chambre, for my part, and even if I were alone could 
 help myself very well; but you, you who have so many 
 enemies — a hundred men are not enough for me to defend 
 you with. A hundred men! you ought to have ten thou- 
 sand. I maintain, then, these men in order that in public 
 places, in assemblies, no voice may be raised against you; 
 and without them, monsieur, you would be loaded with im- 
 precations, you would be torn to pieces, you would not last 
 a week, no, not a week; do you understand?" 
 
 "Ah! I did not know you were my champion to such an 
 extent, Monsieur l'Abbe." 
 
 "You doubt it!" cried the abbe. "Listen, then, to what 
 happened, not longer ago than yesterday, in the Rue de la 
 Hochette. A man was cheapening a fowl." 
 
 "Well, how could that injure me, abbe?" 
 
 "This way: The fowl was not fat. The purchaser re- 
 fused to give eighteen sous for it, saying that he could not 
 afford eighteen sous for the skin of a fowl of which Mon- 
 sieur Fouquet had had all the fat." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "The joke caused a deal of laughter," continued the 
 abbe; "laughter at your expense — death to all the devils! 
 — and the canaille were delighted. The joker added, 'Give 
 me a fowl fed by Monsieur Colbert, if you like, and I will 
 pay all you ask.' And immediately there was a clapping 
 of hands. A frightful scandal! you understand; a scandal 
 which forces a brother to hide his face." 
 
 Fouquet colored. 
 
 "And you veiled it?" said the surintendant. 
 
 "No; for it so happened I had one of my men in the 
 crowd; a new recruit from the provinces, one Monsieur de 
 Menneville, whom I like very much. He made his way 
 through the press, saying to the joker: ' Mille barbes ! 
 Monsieur the False Joker, here's a thrust for Colbert!' 
 'And one for Fouquet/ replied the joker. Upon which 
 
, THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 371 
 
 they drew, in front of the cook's shop, with a hedge of the 
 curious round them, and five hundred as curious at the 
 windows." 
 
 "Well?" said Fouquet. 
 
 "Well, monsieur, my Menneville spitted the joker, to the 
 great astonishment of the spectators, and said to the cook, 
 'Take this goose, my friend, it is fatter than your fowl.' 
 That is the way, monsieur," ended the abbe triumphantly,, 
 ''in which I spend my revenues; I maintain the honor of 
 the family, monsieur." 
 
 Fouquet hung his head. 
 
 "And I have a hundred as good as he," continued the 
 abbe. 
 
 "Very well," said Fouquet, "give the account to Gour- 
 ville, and remain here this evening." 
 
 "Shall we have supper?" 
 
 "Yes, there will be supper." 
 
 "But the chest is closed." 
 
 "Gourville will open it for you. Leave us, Monsieur 
 l'Abbe, leave us." 
 
 'Then we are friends?" said the abbe, with a bow. 
 
 "Oh, yes, friends. Come, Gourville." 
 
 "Are you going out? You will not sup, then?" 
 
 "I shall be back in an hour; be contented, abbe." 
 Then, aside to Gourville: "Let them put to my English 
 horses," said he, "and direct the coachman to stop at the 
 Hotel de Ville de Paris." 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THE WINE OF M. DE LA FONTAINE. 
 
 Carriages were already bringing the guests of Fouquet 
 to St. Maude; already the whole house was getting warm 
 with the preparations for supper, when the surintendant 
 launched his fleet horses upon the road to Paris, and going 
 by the quays, in order to meet with fewer people on his 
 route, reached the Hotel de Ville. It wanted a quarter to 
 eight. Fouquet alighted at the corner of the Euede Long- 
 pont, and, on foot, directed his course toward the Place de 
 Greve, accompanied by Gourville. At the turning of the 
 Place, they saw a man dressed in black and violet, of good 
 mien, who was preparing to get into a hired carriage, and 
 told the coachman to stop at Vino^nnes. He had before 
 
372 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 him a large hamper filled with bottles, which he had just 
 purchased at the cabaret with the sign of "L'Image de 
 Notre Dame." 
 
 "Eh, but that is Vatel! my maltre d'hotel!" said Fou- 
 quet to Gourville. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur," replied the latter. 
 
 "What can he have been doing at the sign of L'Image de 
 Notre Dame?" 
 ( "Buying wine, no doubt." 
 
 "What! buy wine for me at a cabaret!" said Fouquet. 
 "My cellar, then, must be in a miserable condition!" and 
 he advanced toward the maltre d'hotel, who was arranging 
 his bottles in the carriage with the most minute care. 
 
 "Hola! Vatel," said he, in the voice of a master. 
 
 "Take care, monseigneur!" said Gourville, "you will b© 
 recognized." 
 
 "Very well. Of what consequence? Vatel!" 
 
 The man dressed in black and violet turned round. He 
 had a good and mild countenance, without expression — a 
 mathematician, less the pride. A certain fire sparkled in 
 the eyes of this personage, a smile rather sly played round 
 his lips; but the observer might soon have remarked that 
 this lire and this smile applied to nothing, enlightened 
 nothing. Vatel laughed like an absent man, and amused 
 himself like a child. At the sound of his master's voice he 
 turned round, exclaiming: 
 
 "Oh! monseigneur!" 
 
 "Yes, it is I. What the devil are you doing here, Vatel? 
 Wine! You are buying wine at a cabaret in the Place de 
 Greve?" 
 
 "But, monseigneur," said Vatel quietly, after having 
 darted a hostile glance at Gourville, "why am I interfered 
 with here? Is my cellar kept in bad order?" 
 
 "No, certes, Vatel, no; but " 
 
 "But what?" replied Vatel. 
 
 Gourville touched the elbow of Fouquet. 
 
 "Don't be angry, Vatel. I thought my cellar — your 
 cellar — sufficiently well stocked for us to be able to dispense 
 with having recourse to the cellar of L'Image de Notre 
 Dame." 
 
 "Eh, monsieur," said Vatel, sinking from monseigneur 
 to monsieur with a degree of disdain, "your cellar is so well 
 stocked that when certain of your guests dine with you they 
 have nothing to drink." 
 
 Fouquet, in great surprise, looked at Gourville. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 373 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "1 mean that your butler had not wine for all tastes 
 monsieur; and that Monsieur de la Fontaine, Monsieur Pel- 
 lisson, and Monsieur Conrad do not drink when they come 
 to the house — those messieurs do not like strong wine. 
 What is to be done, then?" 
 
 "Well, and so?" 
 
 "Well, then, I have found here a vin de Joigny which 
 they like. I know they come once a week to drink at the 
 Image de Notre Dame. That is the reason why I make 
 this provision." 
 
 Fouquet had no more to say, he was almost affected. 
 Vatel, on his part, had much more to say, without doubt, 
 and it was plain he was getting warm. 
 
 "It is just as if you would reproach me, monseigneur, 
 for going to the Eue Planchet Milbray to fetch, myself, the 
 cider Monsieur Loret drinks when he comes to dine at your 
 house." 
 
 "Loret drinks cider at my house!" cried Fouquet, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 "Certainly he does, monsieur, and that is the reason why 
 he dines there with pleasure." 
 
 "Vatel," cried Fouquet, pressing the hand of his maitre 
 d' hotel "you are a man! I thank you, Vatel, for having 
 understood that at my house Monsieur de la Fontaine, 
 Monsieur Conrad, and Monsieur Loret are as great as dukes 
 and peers, as great as princes, greater than myself. Vatel, 
 you are a good servant, and I double your salary." 
 
 Vatel did not even thank his master; he merely shrugged 
 his shoulders a little, murmuring this superb sentiment: 
 
 "To be thanked for having done one's duty is humiliat- 
 ing." 
 
 "He is right," said Gourville, as he drew Fouquet's at- 
 tention, by a gesture, to another point. He showed him a 
 low-built carriage, drawn by two horses, upon which rocked 
 two strong gibbets, bound together, back to back, by chains, 
 while an archer, seated upon the thickness of the post, un- 
 derwent, as well as he could, with his head cast down, the 
 comments of a hundred vagabonds, who guessed the desti- 
 nation of the gibbets, and escorted them to the Hotel do 
 Ville. Fouquet started. 
 
 "It is decided, you see," said Gourville. 
 
 "But it is not done," replied Fouquet 
 
 ''Oh, do not flatter yourself, monseigneur; if they have 
 
374 THE VICOMTE DE BBAGELOKXE. 
 
 thus lulled your friendship and suspicions — if things hava 
 gone so far, you will undo nothing." 
 
 "But I have not ratified." 
 
 "Monsieur de Lyonne has ratified for you." 
 
 "I will go to the Louvre." 
 
 "Oh, no, you will not!" 
 
 "Would you advise such baseness?" cried Fouquet 5 
 "would you advise me to abandon my friends? would you 
 advise me, while able to fight, to throw the arms I have in 
 my hand to the ground?" 
 
 "I do not advise you to do anything of the kind, mon 
 seigneur. Are you in a position to quit the post of surin 
 tendant at this moment?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, if the king wishes to displace you " 
 
 "He will displace me absent as well as present." 
 
 "Yes, but you will never have insulted him." 
 
 "Yes, but I shall have been base; now I am not willing 
 that my friends should die; and they shall not die!" 
 
 "For that it is necessary you should go to the Louvre." 
 
 "Gourville!" 
 
 "Beware! Once at the Louvre, you will be forced to 
 defend your friends openly, that is to say, to make a profes- 
 sion of faith, or you will be forced to abandon them 
 irrevocably." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "Pardon me; the king will propose the alternative to you, 
 rigorously, or else you will propose it to him yourself." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "That is the reason why conflict must be avoided. Let 
 us return to St. Mande, monseigneur." 
 
 "Gourville, I will not stir from this place, where the 
 crime is to be carried out, where my disgrace is to be 
 accomplished; I will not stir, I say, till I have found some 
 means of combating my enemies." 
 
 "Monseigneur," replied Gourville, "you would excite my 
 pity if I did not know you for one of the great spirits ol 
 this world. You possess a hundred and fifty millions, you 
 are equal to the king in position, and a hundred and fifty 
 millions his superior in money. Monsieur Colbert has not 
 even had the wit to have the testament of Mazarin accepted. 
 Now, when a man is the richest person in a kingdom, and 
 will take the trouble to spend the money, if that be done 
 which he does not like, it is because he is a poor man. Let 
 us return to St. Mande, I say " 
 
THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 375 
 
 "To consult with Pellisson? We will. 5 ' 
 
 "So be it," said Fouquet, with hie syes inflamed; <; yes, 
 yes, to St. Mande!" 
 
 He got into his carriage again, and Gourville with him. 
 Upon their road, at the end of the Faubourg St. Antoine, 
 they overtook tne humble equipage of Vatel, who was 
 quietly conveying along his vin de Joigny. The black 
 horses, going at a swift pace, alarmed, as they passed, the 
 timid hack of the maitre d'hotel, who, putting his head out 
 at the wiudow, cried, in a fright: 
 
 "Take care of my bottles." 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 THE GALLERY OF ST. MANDE. 
 
 Fifty persons were waiting for the surintendant. He 
 did not even take the time to place himself in the hands of 
 his valet de chambre for a minute, but from the perron 
 went straight into the premier salon. There his friends 
 were assembled in full chat. The intendant was about to 
 order supper to be served, but, above all, the Abbe Fouquet 
 watched the return of his brother, and was endeavoring to 
 do the honors of the house in his absence. Upon the 
 arrival of the surintendant a murmur of joy and affection 
 was heard. Fouquet, full of affability, good-humor, and 
 munificence, was beloved by his poets, his artists, and his 
 men of business. His brow, upon which his little court 
 read, as upon that of a god, all the movements of his soul, 
 and thence drew rules of conduct — his brow, upon which 
 affairs of state never impressed a wrinkle, was this evening 
 paler than usual, and more than one friendly eye remarked 
 that paleness. Fouquet placed himself at the head of the 
 table, and presided gayly during supper. He recounted 
 Vatel's expedition to La Fontaine, he related the history of 
 Menneville and the thin fowl to Pellisson, in such a man- 
 ner that all the table heard it. A tempest of laughter and 
 jokes ensued, which was only checked by a serious and even 
 sad gesture from Pellisson. The Abbe Fouquet, not being 
 able to comprehend why his brother should have led the 
 conversation in that direction, listened with all his ears, 
 and sought in the countenance of Gourville, or in that of 
 his brother, an explanation which nothing afforded him. 
 Pellisson took up the matter: 
 
376 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Did they mention Monsieur Colbert, then?" said he. 
 
 "Why not?" replied Fouquct; "if true, as it is said to be, 
 that the king has made him his intendant." 
 
 Scarcely had Fouquet uttered these words, with a marked 
 intention, than an explosion broke forth among the guests. 
 
 "The miser!" said one. 
 
 "The mean, pitiful fellow!" said another. 
 
 "The hypocrite!" said a third. 
 
 Pellisson exchanged a meaning look with Fouquet. 
 
 "Messieurs," said he, "in truth we are abusing a man 
 whom no one knows; it is neither charitable nor reasonable; 
 and here is Monsieur le Surintendant, who, I am sure, 
 agrees with me." 
 
 "Entirely," replied Fouquet. "Let the fat fowls of 
 Monsieur Colbert alone; our business to-day is with the 
 faisans truffes of Monsieur Vatel." 
 
 This speech stopped the dark cloud which was beginning 
 to throw its shade over the guests. Gourville succeeded so 
 well in animating the poets with the vin de Joigny ; the 
 abbe, intelligent as a man who stands in need of the crowns 
 of another, so enlivened the financiers and the men of the 
 sword, that, amid the vapors of this joy and the noise of 
 conversation, the object of inquietude disappeared com- 
 pletely. The testament of Cardinal Mazarin was the text 
 of the conversation at the second course and dessert; then 
 Fouquet ordered basins of confitures and fountains of 
 liqueurs to be carried into the salon adjoining the gallery. 
 He led the way thither, conducting by the hand a lady, the 
 queen, by his preference, of the evening. The musicians 
 then supped, and the promenades in the gallery and the 
 gardens commenced, beneath a spring sky, mild and per- 
 fumed. Pellisson then approached the surintendant and 
 said: 
 
 "Something troubles monseigneur?" 
 
 "Greatly," replied the minister; "ask Gourville to tell 
 you what it is." 
 
 Pellisson, in turning round, found La Fontaine treading 
 upon his heels. He was obliged to listen to a Latin verse, 
 which the poet had composed upon Vatel. La Fontaine 
 had, for an hour, been scanning this verse in all corners, 
 seeking some one to pour it out upon advantageously. He 
 thought he had caught Pellisson, but the latter escaped 
 him; he turned toward Sorel, who had, himself, just com- 
 posed a quatrain in honor of the supper and the Amphy- 
 trion. La Fontaine in vain endeavored to gain atteutiou to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 377 
 
 his verses; Sorel wanted to obtain a hearing for his quatrain* 
 He was obliged to retrograde before M. le Comte de 
 Chanost, whose arm Fouquet had just taken. L'Abbe 
 Fouquet perceived that the poet, as absent as usual, was 
 about to follow the two talkers, and he interposed. La 
 Fontaine seized upon him, and recited his verses. The 
 abb£, who was quite innocent of Latin, nodded his head, in 
 icadence, at every roll which La Fontaine impressed upon 
 his body, according to the undulations of the dactyls and 
 spondees. While this was going on, behind the confiture- 
 basins, Fouquet related the event of the day to his son-in- 
 law, M. de Chanost. 
 
 ''We must send the idle and useless to look at the fire- 
 works," said Pellisson to Gourville, "while we converse 
 here." 
 
 "So be it," said Gourville, addressing four words to 
 Vatel. 
 
 The latter then led toward the gardens the major part of 
 the beaus, the ladies, and the chatterers, while the men 
 walked in the gallery, lighted by three hundred wax-lights, 
 in the sight of all; the admirers of fireworks all ran away 
 toward the garden. Gourville approached Fouquet and 
 said: 
 
 "Monsieur, we are all here." 
 
 "All?" said Fouquet. 
 
 "Yes. — count." 
 
 The surintendant counted; there were eight persons. 
 Pellisson and Gourville walked arm in arm, as if convers- 
 ing upon vague and light subjects. Sorel and two officers 
 imitated them, in an opposite direction. The Abbe Fou- 
 i quet walked alone. Fouquet, with M. de Chanost, walked 
 ; as if entirely absorbed by the conversation of his son-in-law. 
 
 "Messieurs," said he, "let no one of you raise his head as 
 he walks, or appear to pay attention to me; continue walk- 
 ing; we are alone; listen to me." 
 
 A perfect silence ensued, disturbed only by the distant 
 cries of the joyous guests from the groves whence they be- 
 held the fireworks. It was a whimsical spectacle this, of 
 these men walking in groups, as if each one was occupied 
 about something, while lending attention really to only one 
 among them, who, himself, seemed to be speaking only to 
 his companion. 
 
 "Messieurs," said Fouquet, "you have, without doubt, 
 remarked the absence of two of my friends this evening, 
 who were with us on Wednesday. For God's sake, abbe, da 
 
378 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 not stop; it is not necessary to enable you to listen; walk 
 on, carrying your head in a natural way, and as you have 
 an excellent sight, place yourself at the window, and if any 
 one returns toward the gallery, give us notice by coughing." 
 
 The abbe obeyed. 
 
 "I have not observed the absent," said Pellisson, who, 
 at this moment, was turning his back to Fouquet, and walk-, 
 ing the other way. 
 
 "I do not see Monsieur Lyodot," said Sorel, "who pays 
 me my pension." 
 
 "And I," said the abbe, at the window, "do not see Mon- 
 sieur d'Eymeris, who owes me eleven hundred livres from 
 our last game at Brelan." 
 
 "Sorel," continued Fouquet, walking bent and gloomily, 
 "you will never receive your pension any more from Mon- 
 sieur Lyodot; and you, abbe, will never be paid your eleven 
 hundred livres by Monsieur d'Eymeris, for both are about 
 to die." 
 
 "To die!" exclaimed the whole assembly, stopped, in 
 spite of themselves, in the scene they were playing, by that 
 terrible word. 
 
 "Recover yourselves, messieurs," said Fouquet, "for per- 
 haps we are watched. I said: 'to die!' " 
 
 "To die!" repeated Pellisson. "What! the men I saw 
 six days ago, full of health, gayety, and a future? What, 
 then, is man, good God! that disease should thus bring him 
 down all at once." 
 
 "It is not a disease," said Fouquet. 
 
 "Then there is a remedy," said Soreh 
 
 "No remedy. Messieurs de Lyodot and D'Eymeris are 
 on the eve of their last day." 
 
 "Of what are these gentlemen dying, then?" asked an 
 officer. 
 
 "Ask of him who kills them," replied Fouquet. 
 
 "Who kills them? Are they being killed, then?" criec 
 the terrified chorus. 
 
 "They do better still; they are hanging them," mur- 
 mured Fouquet, in a sinister voice which sounded like a 
 funeral knell in -that rich gallery, splendid with pictures, 
 flowers, velvet, and gold. Involuntarily every one stopped; 
 the abbe quitted his window; the first fusees of the fire- 
 works began to mount above the trees. A prolonged cry 
 from the gardens attracted the surintendant to enjoy the 
 spectacle. He drew near to a window, and his friends 
 placed themselves behind him, attentive to his least wish. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 379 
 
 ''Messieurs," said he, "Monsieur Colbert has caused to 
 be arrested, tried, and will execute to death my two friends. 
 What does it become me to do?" 
 
 "Mordieux!" exclaimed the abbe, the first 'run Monsieur 
 Colbert through the body." 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Pellisson, "you must speak to his 
 majesty." 
 
 ''The king, my dear Pellisson, has signed the order for the 
 execution." 
 
 "Well," said the Comte de Chanost, "the execution mus' 
 not take place, then; that is all." 
 
 "Impossible!" said Gourville, "unless we could corrupt 
 the jailers." 
 
 "Or the governor," said Fouquet. 
 
 "This night the prisoners might be allowed to escape." 
 
 "Which of you will take charge of the transaction?" 
 
 "I," said the abbe, "will carry the money." 
 
 "And I," said Pellisson, "will be bearer of the words." 
 
 "Words and money," said Fouquet; "five hundred thou- 
 sand livres to the governor of the conciergerie, that is 
 sufficient; nevertheless, it shall be a million, if necessary." 
 
 "A million!" cried the abbe. "Why, for less than half 
 I would cause the half of Paris to be sacked." 
 
 "There must be no disorder," said Pellisson. "The gov- 
 ernor being won, the two prisoners escape; once clear of 
 the fangs of the law, they will call together the enemies of 
 Colbert, and prove to the king that his young justice, like 
 all other exaggerations, is not infallible." 
 
 "Go to Paris, then, Pellisson," said Fouquet, "and bring 
 hither the two victims; to-morrow we shall see." 
 
 Gourville gave Pellisson the five hundred thousand livres. 
 
 "Take care the wind does not carry you away," said the 
 abbe. "What a responsibility! Peste! Let me help you 
 a little." 
 
 "Silence!" said Fouquet; "somebody is coming. Ah! 
 the fireworks are producing a magical effect." 
 
 At this moment a shower of sparks fell rustling among 
 the branches of the neighboring trees. Pellisson and Gour- 
 ville went out together by the door of the gallery; Fouquet 
 descended to the garden with the five last plotters. 
 
380 THE YlCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 IHE EPICUREANS. 
 
 As Fouquet was giving, or appearing to give, all his 
 attention to the brilliant illuminations, the languishing 
 music of the violins and hautboys, the sparkling sheaves of 
 the artificial fires, which, inflaming the heavens with glow- 
 ing reflections, marked behind the trees the dark profile of 
 the donjon of Vincennes; as we say, the surintendant was 
 smiling on the ladies and the poets, the/ete was not less 
 gay than ordinary; and Vatcl, whose restless, even jealous 
 look, earnestly consulted the look of Fouquet, did not ap- 
 pear dissatisfied with the welcome given to the ordering of 
 the evening's entertainment. The fireworks over, the 
 company dispersed about the gardens, and beneath the 
 marble porticoes with the delightful liberty which reveals 
 in the master of the house so much forgetfulness of great- 
 ness, so much courteous hospitality, so much magnificent 
 carelessness. The poets wandered about, arm in arm, 
 through the groves; some reclined upon beds of moss, to 
 the great damage of velvet clothes and curled heads, into 
 which little dried leaves and blades of grass insinuated 
 themselves. The ladies, in small numbers, listened to the 
 songs of the singers and the verses of the poets; others 
 listened to the prose, spoken with much art, by men who 
 were neither actors nor poets, but to whom youth and soli- 
 tude gave an unaccustomed eloquence, which appeared to 
 them preferable to all. 
 
 "Why," said La Fontaine, "does not our master, Epi- 
 curus, descend into the garden? Epicurus never abandoned 
 his pupils; the master is wrong." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Conrad, "you are very wrong in per- 
 sisting to decorate yourself with the name of an Epicurean; 
 indeed, nothing here reminds me of the doctrine of the 
 philosopher of Gargetta. " 
 
 "Bah!" said La Fontaine, "is it not written that Epi- 
 curus purchased a large garden and lived in it tranquilly 
 with his friends?" 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "Well, has not Monsieur Fouquet purchased a large gar- 
 den at St. Maude, and do we not live here very tranquilly 
 with him and his friends?" 
 
 "Yes, without doubt; unfortunately, it is neither the 
 gaiden nor the friends which can make the resemblance, 
 
THE VICOMTE DR BRAGELOHNE. 381 
 
 Now, what likeness is there between the doctrine of Epi- 
 curus and that of Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "This — pleasure gives happiness. " 
 
 "Next?" 
 
 "Well, I do not think we ought to consider ourselves un- 
 fortunate; for my part, at least. A good repast — vin de 
 Joigny, which they have the delicacy to go and fetch for 
 me' from my favorite cabaret — not one impertinence heard 
 during a supper of an hour long, in spite of the presence 
 of ten millionaires and twenty poets." 
 
 "I stop you there. You mentioned vin de Joigny, and 
 % good repast; do you persist in that?" 
 
 "I persist, anteco, as they say at Port Eoyal." 
 
 "Then please to recollect that the great Epicurus lived, 
 and made his pupils live, upon bread, vegetables, and clear 
 water." 
 
 "That is not certain," said La Fontaine; "and you ap- 
 pear to me to be confounding Epicurus with Pythagoras, 
 my dear Conrad." 
 
 "Kemember, likewise, that the ancient philosopher was 
 rather a bad friend of the gods and the magistrates." 
 
 "Oh! that is what I cannot suffer," replied La Fontaine. 
 "Epicurus was like Monsieur Fouquet." 
 
 "Do not compare him to Monsieur le Surintendant," said 
 Conrad, in an agitated voice, "or you would accredit the 
 reports which are circulated concerning him and us." 
 
 "What reports?" 
 
 "That we are bad Frenchmen, lukewarm with regard to 
 the monarch, deaf to the law." 
 
 "I return, then, to my text," said La Fontaine. "Lis- 
 ten, Conrad, this is the morality of Epicurus, whom, besides, 
 I consider, if I must tell you so, as a myth. All which 
 touches the least upon antiquity is a myth. Jupiter, if we 
 give a little attention to it, is life. Alcides is strength. 
 The words are there to bear me out; Zeus, that is zen, to 
 live. Alcides, that is alii, vigor. Well, Epicurus, that 
 is mild watchfulness, that is protection; now, who watches 
 better over the state, or who protects individuals better 
 than Monsieur Fouquet does?" 
 
 "You talk etymology and not morality; I say that we 
 modern Epicureans are troublesome citizens." 
 
 "Oh!" cried La Fontaine, "if we become troublesome 
 citizens, it will not be in following the maxims of our mas- 
 ter. Listen to one of his principal aphorisms." 
 
 "I listen." 
 
382 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 
 
 ''Wish for good leaders.'* 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, what does Monsieur Fouquet say to us every day? 
 'W T hen shall we be governed?' Does he say so? Come, 
 Conrad, be frank." 
 
 "He says so, that is true." 
 
 "Well, that is a doctrine of Epicurus. 
 
 "Yes; but that is a little seditious, observe." 
 
 "How! seditious to wish to be governed by good heads 
 or leaders?" 
 
 "Certainly, when those who govern are bad." 
 
 "Patience! I have a reply for all." 
 
 "Even for that I have just said to you?" 
 
 "Listen; would you submit to those who govern ill? Oh, 
 it is written: ' Cacos politeuousi.' You grant me the text?" 
 
 "Pardieu /" I think so. Do you know you speak Greek 
 as well as iEsop did, my dear La Fontaine?'' 
 
 "Is there any wickedness in that, my dear Conrad?" 
 
 "God forbid I should say so!" 
 
 "Then, let us return to Monsieur Fouquet. What did 
 he repeat to us all the day? Was it not this? 'What a 
 cuistre is that Mazarin! what an ass! what a leech! We 
 must, however, submit to the fellow.' Now, Conrad, did 
 he say so, or did he not?" 
 
 "I confess that he said it, and even perhaps too often." 
 
 "Like Epicurus, my friend, still like Epicurus; I repeat, 
 we are Epicureans, and that is very amusing." 
 
 "Yes; but I am afraid there will rise up, by the side of 
 us, a sect like that of Epictetus; you know him well; the 
 philosopher of Hieropolis, he who called bread luxury, 
 vegetables prodigality, and clear water drunkenness; he 
 who, being beaten by his master, said to him, grumbling a 
 little, it is true, but without being angry: 'I will lay a 
 wager you have broken my leg,' and who won his wager." 
 
 "He was a gosling, that Epictetus." 
 
 "Granted; but he might easily become the fashion by 
 only changing his name into that of Colbert." 
 
 "Bah!" replied La Fontaine, "that is impossible. Never 
 will you find Colbert in Epictetus." 
 
 "You are right; I shall find — Coluber there, at the most." 
 
 "Ah! you are beaten, Conrad; you are reduced to a play 
 upon words. Monsieur Arnaud pretends that I have no 
 logic; I have more than Monsieur Nicolle." 
 
 "Yes," replied Conrad: "you have logic, but you are a 
 Jansenist.' 
 
THE VICOMTE I)£ BRAGELONNE. 383 
 
 This peroration was hailed by an immense shout of 
 'aughter; by degrees the promenaders had been attracted 
 by the exclamations of the two disputants around the arbor 
 under which they argued. All the discussion had been 
 religiously listened to, and Fouquet himself, scarcely able 
 to suppress his laughter, had given an example of modera- 
 tion. But the denouement of the scene threw off all re- 
 staint; he laughed aloud. Everybody laughed as he did, 
 and the two philosophers were saluted by unanimous 
 felicitations, La Fontaine, however, was declared con- 
 queror, on account of his profound erudition and his irre- 
 fragable logic. Conrad obtained the compensation due to * 
 an unsuccessful combatant; he was praised for his loyalty 
 and the purity of his conscience. 
 
 At the moment when this joy was manifesting itself by 
 the most lively demonstrations, at the moment when the 
 ladies were reproaching the two adversaries with not hav- 
 ing admitted women into the system of Epicurean happi- 
 ness, Gourville was seen hastening from the other end of 
 ^he garden, approaching Fouquet, who surveyed him anx- 
 iously, and detaching him, by his presence alone, from the 
 group. The surintendant preserved upon his face the 
 fjmile and the character of carelessness; but scarcely was he 
 aut of sight than he threw off the mask. 
 
 "Well," said he eagerly, "where is Pellisson? What is 
 he doing?" 
 
 "Pellisson is returned from Paris." 
 
 "Has he brought back the prisoners?" 
 
 "He has not even seen the concierge of the prison.'* 
 
 "What! did he not tell him he came from me?" 
 
 "He told him so, but the concierge sent him this reply: 
 *If any one came to me from Monsieur Fouquet ha would 
 have a letter from Monsieur Fouquet.' " 
 
 "Oh!" cried the latter, "if a letter is all he wants — — *' 
 
 "Never, monsieur!" said Pellisson, showing himself a: 
 the corner of the little wood, "never! Go yourself, and 
 speak in your own name." 
 
 "You are right. I will go in, as if to work; let ths 
 horses remain harnessed, Pellisson. Entertain my friends, 
 Gourville." 
 
 "One last word of advice, monseigneur," replied the 
 latter. 
 
 "Speak, Gourville." 
 
 "Do not go to the concierge but at the last minute; it i 
 brave, but it is not wise. Excuse me, Monsieur Peiiissoi 
 
384 THE VICOMTE BE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 if I am not of the same opinion as you; but believe me, 
 mouseigneur, send again a message to this concierge — he is 
 a worthy man, but do not carry it yourself." 
 
 "I will think of it, ;/ said Fouquet; "besides., we have 
 all the night before us." 
 
 "Do not reckon too much upon time; were the time we 
 have double what it is, it would not be too much," replied 
 Pellisson; "it is never a fault to arrive too soon. 
 
 "Adieu!" said the surintendant; "come with me, Pellis- 
 son. Gourville, I commend my guests to your care." 
 
 And he set off. The Epicureans did not perceive that 
 the head of the school had left them; the violins continued 
 playing all night. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 A QUARTER OF AN HOUR'S DELAY. 
 
 Fouquet, on leaving his house for the second time that 
 day, felt himself less heavy and less disturbed than might 
 have been expected. He turned toward Pellisson, who was 
 meditating in the corner of- the carriage some good argu- 
 ments against the violent proceedings of Colbert. 
 
 "My dear Pellisson," said Fouquet, then, "it is a great 
 pity you are not a woman." 
 
 "I think, on the contrary, it is very fortunate," replied 
 Pellisson, "for, monseigneur, I am excessively ugly." 
 
 "Pellisson! Pellisson!" said the surintendant, laughing. 
 "You repeat too often, you are 'ugly,' not to leave people 
 to believe that it gives you much pain." 
 
 "In fact, it does, monseigneur, much; there is no man 
 more unfortunate than I. I was handsome, the smallpox 
 rendered me hideous; I am deprived of a great means of 
 seduction; now, I am your principal clerk, or something of 
 that sort; I take great interest in your affairs, and if, at 
 this moment, I were a pretty woman, I could render you an 
 important service." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I would go and find the concierge of the Palais; I would 
 seduce him, for he is a gallant man, extravagantly partial 
 to women; then I would get away our two prisoners." 
 
 "I hope to be able to do so myself, although I am not a 
 pretty woman," replied Fouquet. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 385 
 
 44 Granted, monseigneur; but you are compromising your- 
 self very much." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Fouquet suddenly, with one of those secret 
 transports which the generous blood of youth, or the re- 
 membrance of some sweet emotion, infuses into the heart. 
 "Oh! I know a woman who will enact the personage we 
 stand in need of with the lieutenant-governor of the con- 
 ciergerie." 
 
 "And, on my part, I know fifty, monseigneur; fifty 
 trumpets, which will inform the universe of your generos- 
 ity, of your devotion to your friends, and, consequently, 
 will ruin you sooner or later in ruining themselves." 
 
 "I do not speak of such women, Pellisson; I speak of a 
 noble and beautiful creature who joins to the intelligence 
 and wit of her sex the valor and coolness of ours; I speak 
 of a woman handsome enough to make the walls of a prison 
 bow down to salute her, of a woman discreet enough to let 
 no one suspect by whom she has been sent." 
 
 "A treasure!" said Pellisson; "you would make a famous 
 present to monsieur the governor of the conciergerie ! 
 Peste ! monseigneur, he might have his head cut off; that 
 might happen; but he would, before dying, have had such 
 happiness as no man had enjoyed before him." 
 
 "And I add," said Fouquet, "that the concierge of the 
 Palais would not have his head cut off, for he would receive of 
 me my horses to effect his escape, and five hundred thousand 
 livres wherewith to live comfortably in England; I add, 
 that this woman, my friend, would give him nothing but 
 the horses and the money. Let us go and seek this woman, 
 Pellisson." 
 
 The surintendant reached forth his hand toward the gold 
 and silken cord placed in the interior of his carriage; but 
 Pellisson stopped him. "Monseigneur," said he, "you are 
 going to los'e as much time in seeking this woman as Col- 
 umbus took to discover the new world. Now, we have but 
 two hours in which we can possibly succeed; the concierge 
 once gone to bed, how shall we get at him without making 
 a disturbance? When daylight dawns, how can we conceal 
 our proceedings? Go, go yourself, monseigneur, and dc 
 not seek either woman or an angel to-night." 
 
 "But, my dear Pellisson, here we are before her door." 
 
 "What! before the angel's door." 
 
 "Why, yes." 
 
 "This is the hotel of Madame de Belliere?" 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
386 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONXE, 
 
 "'Ah! Good Lord!" exclaimed Pellisson. 
 
 "What have you to say against her!'''' 
 
 "Nothing, alas! and it is that which creates my despair. 
 Nothing, absolutely nothing. Why can I not, on the con- 
 trary, say ill enough of her to prevent your going to her?" 
 
 But Fouquet had already given orders to stop, and the 
 carriage was motionless. 
 
 "Prevent me!" cried Fouquet; "why, no power on earth 
 should prevent my going to pay my compliments to Ma 
 dame de Plessis-Belliere; besides, who knows that we shall 
 not stand in need of her?" 
 
 "No, monseigneur, no!" 
 
 "But [ do not wish you to wait for me, Pellisson," re- 
 plied Fouquet, with sincere courtesy. 
 
 "The greater reason why I should, monseigneur; know- 
 ing that you are keeping me waiting, you will, perhaps, 
 stay a shorter time. Take care! You see there is a car- 
 riage in the courtyard; she has some one with her." 
 
 Fouquet leaned toward the steps of the carriage. 
 
 "One word more," cried Pellisson; "do not go to this 
 lady till you have been to the concierge, for heaven's sake!" 
 
 "Eh! five minutes, Pellisson," replied Fouquet, alight- 
 ing at the steps of the hotel, leaving Pellisson in the car- 
 riage, in a very ill-humor. 
 
 Fouquet ran upstairs, told his name to the footman, 
 which excited an eagerness and a respect that showed the 
 habit the mistress of the house had of honoring that name 
 in her family. 
 
 "Monsieur le Surintendant," cried the marquise, advanc- 
 ing, very pale, to meet him; "what an honor! what an un- 
 expected pleasure!" said she. Then, in a low voice, "Take 
 care!" added the marquise, "Marguerite Vanel is here." 
 
 "Madame," replied Fouquet, rather agitated, "I came 
 upon business. One single word, in haste, if you please." 
 
 And he entered the salon. Mine. Vanel had risen, more 
 pale, more livid than Envy herself. Fouquet in vain ad- 
 dressed her with the most agreeable, most pacific salutation; 
 she only replied by a terrible glance darted at the marquise 
 and Fouquet. This keen glance of a jealous woman is a 
 stiletto which pierces every cuirass; Marguerite Vanel 
 plunged it straight into the hearts of the two confidants. 
 She made a courtesy to her friend, a more profound one to 
 Fouquet, and took leave, under pretense of having a great 
 number of visits to make, without the marquise trying to 
 prevont her, or Fouquet, a prey to anxiety, thinking any- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 387 
 
 thing about her. She was scarcely out of the room, and 
 Fouquet left alone with the marquise, before he threw him- 
 self on his knees without saying a word. 
 
 "I expected you," said the marquise, with a tender sigh. 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried he, "or you would have sent away that 
 woman." 
 
 "She has been here little more than half an hour, and I 
 had no suspicion she would come this evening." 
 
 "You do love me a little, then, marquise?" 
 
 "That is not the question now; it is of your dangers. 
 How are your affairs going on?" 
 
 "I am going this evening to get my friends out of the 
 prisons of the Palais." 
 
 "How will you do that?" 
 
 "By buying and seducing the governor." 
 
 "He is a friend of mine; can I assist you, without injur- 
 ing you?" 
 
 "Oh, marquise, it would be a sigual service; but how can 
 you be employed without your being compromised? Now, 
 never shall my life, my power, or even my liberty, be pur- 
 chased at the expense of a single tear from your eyes, or of 
 a single pain upon your brow." 
 
 "Monseigneur, speak no more such words, they bewilder 
 me; I have been culpable in trying to serve you, without 
 calculating the extent of what I was doing. I love you in 
 reality, as a tender friend, and as a friend I am grateful 
 for your delicate attentions; but, alas! alas! you will never 
 find a mistress in me." 
 
 "Marquise!" cried Fouquet, in a tone of despair, "why 
 not?" 
 
 "Because you are too much beloved," said the young 
 woman in a low vo^ce; "because you are too much beloved 
 by too many people — because the splendor of glory and 
 fortune wound my eyes, while the darkness of sorrow at- 
 tracts them; because, in short, I, who have repulsed you in 
 your proud magnificence, I, who scarcely looked at you in 
 your splendor, I came, like a mad woman, to throw myself, 
 as it were, into your arms when I saw a misfortune hovering 
 over your head. You understand me now, monseigneur? 
 Become happy again, that I may again become chaste in 
 heart and in thought; your misfortune would ruin me!" 
 
 "Oh, madame," said Fouquet, with an emotion he had 
 never before felt, "were I to fall to the last degree of 
 human misery, and should hear from your mouth that word 
 which you now refuse me, that day, madame, you will be 
 
388 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOJOTE. 
 
 mistaken in your noble egotism; that day you will fancy /ou 
 are consoling the most unfortunate of men, and you will 
 have said, 'I love you' to the most illustrious, the most de- 
 lighted, the most triumphant of the happy beings of this 
 world." 
 
 He was still at her feet, kissing her hand, when Pellisson 
 entered precipitately, crying, in very ill-humor: 
 
 "Monseigneur! madame! for heaven's sake, excuse me. 
 Monseigneur, you have been here half an hour. Oh, do 
 not both look at me so reproachfully. Madame, pray who 
 is that lady who left your house soon after monseigneur 
 came in?" 
 
 "Madame Vanel," said Fouquet. 
 
 "There!" cried Pellisson, "I was sure of that!" 
 
 ''Well, what then?" 
 
 "Why, she got into her carriage looking deathly pale." 
 
 "What consequence is that to me?" 
 
 "Yes, but what she said to her coachman is of conse- 
 quence to you." 
 
 "What, good God!" cried the marquise, "was that?" 
 
 "To Monsieur Colbert's!" said Pellisson, in a hoarse 
 voice. 
 
 "Good heavens! be gone, be gone, monseigneur!" replied 
 the marquise, pushing Fouquet out of the salon, while Pel- 
 lisson dragged him by the hand. 
 
 "Am I, then, indeed," said the surintendant, "become a 
 child, to be frightened by a shadow?" 
 
 "You are a giant," said the marquise, "whom a viper is 
 endeavoring to bite at the heel." 
 
 Pellisson continued to drag Fouquet quite to the carriage. 
 
 "To the Palais at full speed!" cried Pellisson to the 
 coachman. The horses set off like lightning; no obstacle 
 relaxed their pace for an instant. Only, at the Arcade St. 
 Jean, as they were coming out upon the Place de Greve, a 
 long file of horsemen, barring the narrow passage, stopped 
 the carriage of the surintendant. There was no means of 
 forcing this barrier; it was necessary to wait till the 
 mounted archers of the watch, for it was they who stopped 
 the way, had passed with the heavy carriage they were 
 escorting, and which ascended rapidly toward the Place 
 Baudoyer. Fouquet and Pellisson took no further account 
 of this circumstance beyond deploring the minute's delay 
 they had to submit to. They entered the habitation of the 
 concierge du palais five minutes after. 
 
 That officer was still walking about in the front court 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 3S& 
 
 At the name of Fouquet, whispered in his ear by Pellisson 
 the governor eagerly approached the carriage, and, hat in 
 hand, was profuse in his reverences. 
 
 "What an honor for me, monseigneur!" said he. 
 "One word, Monsieur le Gouverneur, will you take the 
 trouble to get into my carriage?" 
 
 The officer placed himself opposite Fouquet in the coach. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Fouquet, "I have a service to ask of 
 you." 
 
 "Speak, monseigneur." 
 ' "A service that will be compromising for you, monsieur, 
 but which will assure to you forever my protection and my 
 friendship." 
 
 "Were it to cast myself into the fire for you, monseigneur, 
 I would do it." 
 
 "Thai, is well," said Fouquet. "What I require is much 
 more simple." 
 
 "That being so, monseigneur, what is it?" 
 
 "To conduct me to the chamber of Messieurs Lyodot and 
 D'Eymeris." 
 
 "Will monseigneur have the kindness to say for what 
 purpose?" 
 
 "I will tell you in their presence, monsieur; at the same 
 time that I will give you ample means of palliating this 
 escape." 
 
 "Escape! Why, then, monseigneur does not know?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "That Messrs. Lyodot and D'Eymeris are no longer here." 
 
 "Since when?" cried Fouquet, in great agitation. 
 
 "About a quarter of an hour." 
 
 "Whither have they gone, then?" 
 
 "To Vincennes — to the donjon." 
 
 "Who took them from here?" 
 
 "An order from the king." 
 
 "Oh, woe! woe!" exclaimed Fouquet, striking his fore- 
 head. "W r oe!" and without saying a single word more to 
 the governor, he threw himself back in his carriage, despair 
 in his heart and death on his countenance. 
 
 "Well!" said Pellisson, with great anxiety. 
 
 "Our friends are lost. Colbert is conveying them to the 
 donjon. It was they who crossed our passage under the 
 Arcade St. Jean." 
 
 Pellisson, struck as with a thunderbolt, made no reply. 
 With a single reproach he would have killed his master. 
 
 "Where is monseigneur going?" said the footman. 
 
390 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 "Home — to Paris. You, Pellisson, return to St. Mande, 
 and bring the Abbe Fouquet to me within an hour. Be 
 
 gone 
 
 f>- 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 PLA N OF B ATTLE. 
 
 The night was already far advanced when the Abb6 Fou- 
 quet joined his brethren. Gourville had accompanied him. 
 These three men, pale with future events, resembled less 
 three powers of the day than three conspirators, united by 
 one same thought of violence. Fouquet walked for a long 
 time, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, striking his hand 
 one against the other. At length, taking courage, in the 
 midst of a deep, long sigh: 
 
 "Abbe," said he, "you were speaking to me only to-day 
 of certain people you maintain?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied the abbe. 
 
 "Tell me precisely who are these people?" 
 
 The abbe hesitated. 
 
 "Come, no fear; I am not threatening; no romancing, 
 for I am not joking." 
 
 "Since you demand the truth, monseigneur, here it is: I 
 have a hundred and twenty friends or companions of 
 pleasure, who are sworn to me as the thief is to the gallows. " 
 
 "And you think you can depend upon them?" 
 
 "Entirely." 
 
 "And you will not compromise yourself?" 
 
 "I will not even make my appearance." 
 
 "And are they men of resolution?" 
 
 "They would burn Paris, if I promised them they should 
 not be burned in turn." 
 
 "The thing I ask of you, abbe," said Fouquet, wiping 
 the sweat which fell from his brow, "is to throw your hun- 
 dred and twenty men upon the people I will point out to 
 you, at a certain moment given — is it possible?" 
 
 "It will not be the first time such a thing has happened 
 to them, monseigneur." 
 
 "That is well; but would these bandits attack an armed 
 force?" 
 
 "They are used to that." 
 
 "Then get your hundred and twenty men together, abbe." 
 
 "Directly. But where?" 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 391 
 
 "On the road to Vincennes, to-morrow, at two o'clock 
 precisely." 
 
 "To carry off Lyodot and D'Eymeris? There will be 
 blows to be got." 
 
 "A number, no doubt; are you afraid?" 
 
 "Not for myself, but for you." 
 
 "Your men will know, then, what they have to do?" 
 
 "They are too intelligent not to guess it. Now, a minis- 
 ter who gets up a riot against his king, exposes himself " 
 
 "Of what importance is that to you, I pray? Besides, if 
 I fall, you fall with me." 
 
 "It would then be more prudent, monsieur, not to stir in 
 the affair, and leave the king to take this little satisfaction." 
 
 "Think well of this, abbe: Lyodot and D'Eymeris at 
 Vincennes are a prelude of ruin for my house. 1 repeat it 
 --I arrested, you will be imprisoned; I imprisoned, you will 
 be exiled." 
 
 "Monsieur, I am at your orders; have you any to give 
 me?" 
 
 "What I told you: I wish that, to-morrow, the two finan- 
 ciers of whom they mean to make victims, while there 
 remain so many criminals unpunished, should be snatched 
 from the fury of my enemies. Take your measures accord- 
 ingly. Is it possible?" 
 
 "It is possible." 
 
 "Describe your plan." 
 
 "It is of rich simplicity. The ordinary guard at execu- 
 tions consists of twelve archers." 
 
 "There will be a hundred to-morrow." 
 
 "I reckon so. I even say more — there will be two 
 hundred." 
 
 "Then, your hundred and twenty men will not be 
 enough." 
 
 "Pardon me. In every crowd composed of a hundred 
 thousand spectators, there are ten thousand bandits or cut- 
 purses, only they dare not take the initiative." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "There will, then, be to-morrow, on the Place de Greve, 
 which I choose as my battlefield, ten thousand auxiliaries 
 to my hundred and twenty men. The attack commenced 
 by the latter, the others will finish it." 
 
 "That all appears feasible. But what will be done with 
 regard to the prisoners upon the Place de Greve?" 
 
 "This: they must be thrust into some house — that will 
 make a siege necessary to get them out again. And — stop; 
 
392 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 here is another idea-, more sublime still: certain houses have 
 two issues — one upon the Place, and the other into theRue de 
 la Mortelleire, or La Yannerie, or La Texeranderie. The 
 prisoners entering by one door, will go out at another." 
 
 "Yes; but fix upon something positive." 
 
 "I am seeking to do so. ; ' 
 
 "And I," cried Fouquet, "I have found it. Listen to 
 what has occurred to me at this moment." 
 
 "I am listening." 
 
 Fouquet made a sign to Gourville, who appeared to un- 
 derstand. 
 
 "One of my friends lends me sometimes the keys of a 
 house which he rents, in the Place Baudoyer, the spacious 
 gardens of which extend behind a certain house of the 
 Place de Gr£ve." 
 
 "That is the place for us," said the abbe. "What 
 house?" 
 
 "A cabaret pretty well frequented, whose sign represents 
 the image of Notre Dame." 
 
 "I know it," said the abbe. 
 
 "This cabaret has windows opening upon the Place, a 
 place of exit into the court, which must abut upon the 
 gardens of my friend by a door of communication." 
 
 "Good!" said the abbe. 
 
 "Enter by the cabaret, take the prisoners in; defend the 
 door while you enable them to fly by the garden and the 
 Place Baudoyer." 
 
 "That is all plain. Monsieur, you would make an excel- 
 lent general, like Monsieur le Prince." 
 
 "Have you understood me?" 
 
 "Perfectly well." 
 
 "How much will it amount to, to make your bandits all 
 drunk with wine, and to satisfy them with gold?" 
 
 "Oh, monsieur, what an expression! Oh, monsieur, if 
 they heard you! some of them are very susceptible." 
 
 "I mean to say they must be brought no longer to know 
 the heavens from the earth; for I shall to-morrow contend 
 with the king; and when I fight I mean to conquer — please 
 to understand." 
 
 "It shall be done, monsieur. Give me your other ideas." 
 
 "That is your business." 
 
 "Then give me your purse." 
 
 "Gourville, count a hundred thousand livres for the 
 abbe." 
 
 "Good! and spare nothing, did you not say?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BEAGELONKE. 395 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "That is well." 
 
 "Monseigneur," objected Gourville, "if this should be 
 known we should lose our heads." 
 
 "Eh! Gourville," replied Fouquet, purple with anger, 
 "you excite my pity. Speak for yourself, if you please. 
 My head does not shake in that manner upon my shoulders. 
 Now, abbe, is everything arranged?" 
 
 "Everything." 
 
 "At two o'clock to-morrow." 
 
 "At twelve, because it will be necessary to prepare our 
 auxiliaries in a secret manner." 
 
 "That is true; do not spare the wine of the calaretier." 
 
 "I will spare neither his wine nor his house," replied the 
 abbe with a sneering laugh. "I have my plan, I tell you; 
 leave me to set it in operation, and you shall see." 
 
 "Where shall you be yourself?" 
 
 "Everywhere; nowhere." 
 
 "And how shall I receive information?" 
 
 "By a courier, whose horse shall be kept in the very gar- 
 den of your friend. Apropos, the name of your friend?" 
 
 Fouquet looked again at Gourville. The latter came to 
 the succor of his master, saying: 
 
 "Accompany Monsieur l'Abbe for several reasons, only 
 the house is easily to be known, the 'Image de Notre Dame' 
 in the front, a garden, the only one in the quarter, behind." 
 
 "Good, good! I will go and give notice to my soldiers." 
 
 "Accompany him, Gourville," said Fouquet, "and count 
 him down the money. One moment, abbe — one moment, 
 Gourville; what name will be given to this carrying off?" 
 
 "A very natural one, monsieur — the Eiot." 
 
 "The riot on account of what? For, if ever the people 
 of Paris are disposed to pay their court to the king, it is 
 when he hangs financiers." 
 
 "I will manage that," said the abbe. 
 
 "Yes; but you may manage it badly, and people will 
 guess." 
 
 "Not at all — not at all. I have another idea." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "My men shall cry out, 'Colbert, vive Colbert!' and shall 
 throw themselves upon the prisoners as if they would tear 
 them in pieces, and shall force them from the gibbets, as too 
 mild a punishment." 
 
 "Ah! that is an idea," said Gourville. "Pestel Mon- 
 sieur l'Abbe, what an imagination you have!" 
 
394: THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Monsieur, we are worthy of our family," replied the 
 abbe proudly. 
 
 "Strange fellow!" murmured Fouquet. Then lie added: 
 "That is ingenious. Carry it out, but shed no blood." 
 
 Gourville and the abbe set off together, with their heads 
 full of the meditated riot. The surintendant laid himself 
 down upon some cushions, half-valiant with respect to the 
 sinister projects of the morrow, half-dreaming of love. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 THE CABARET OF THE IMAGE DE NOTRE DAME. 
 
 At two o'clock the next day fifty thousand spectators 
 had taken their position upon the Place, around the two 
 gibbets which had been elevated between the Quai de la 
 Greve and the Quai Pelletier, one close to the other, with 
 their banks to the parapet of the river. In the morning 
 also all the sworn criers of the good city of Paris had trav- 
 ersed the quarters of the city, particularly the halles and 
 the faubourgs, announcing, with their hoarse and indefa- 
 tigable voices, the great justice done by the king upon two 
 peculators, two thieves, devourers of the people. And 
 these people, whose interests were so warmly looked after, 
 in order not to fail in respect for their king, quitted shops, 
 stalls, and ateliers, to go and evince a little gratitude to 
 Louis XIV., absolutely like invited guests, who feared to 
 commit an impoliteness in not repairing to the house of him 
 who had invited them. According to the tenor of the sen- 
 tence, which the criers read loudly and badly, two farmers 
 of the revenues, monopolists of money, dilapidators of the 
 royal provisions, extortioners, and forgers, were about to 
 undergo capital punishment on the Place de Greve, with 
 their names affixed over their heads, according to their 
 sentence. As to those names, the sentence made no men- 
 tion of them. The curiosity of the Parisians was at its 
 height, and, as we have said, an immense crowd waited 
 with feverish impatience the hour fixed for the execution. 
 The news had already spread that the prisoners, transferred 
 to the Chateau of Vincennes, would be conducted from 
 that prison to the Place de Greve. Consequently, the 
 faubourg and the Rue St. Antoine were crowded; for the 
 population* of Paris in those days of great executions was 
 divided into two categories : those who came to see the con- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONSTB. 395 
 
 demned pass — these were timid and mild hearts, but curious 
 in philosophy; and those who wished to see the condemned 
 die — these were of hearts desirous of emotions. On this 
 day M. d'Artagnan received his last instructions from the 
 king, and made his adieus to his friends, the number of 
 whom was, at the moment, reduced to Pianchet, traced the 
 plan of his day, as every busy man whose moments are 
 counted ought to do, because he appreciates their impor- 
 tance. 
 
 "My departure is to be," said he, "at break of day, three 
 o'clock in the morning; I have, then, fifteen hours before 
 me. Take from them the six hours of sleep which are in- 
 dispensable for me — six; one hour for repasts — seven; one 
 hour for a farewell visit to Athos — eight; two hours for 
 chance circumstances — total, ten. There are, then, five 
 hours left. One hour to get my money — that is, to have 
 payment refused by Monsieur Fouquet; another hour to go 
 and receive my money of Monsieur Colbert, together with 
 his questions and grimaces; one hour to look over my clothes 
 and my arms, and get my boots cleaned. I have still two 
 hours left. Mordioux! how rich I am!" And so saying, 
 D'Artagnan felt a strange joy, a joy of youth, a perfume of 
 those great and happy years of former times mount into 
 his brain and intoxicate him. "During these two hours I 
 will go," said the musketeer, "and take my quarter's rent 
 of the Image de Notre Dame. That will be pleasant. 
 Three hundred and seventy-five livres. Mordioux ! but 
 that is astonishing. If the poor man who has but one livre 
 in his pocket found a livre and twelve deniers, that would 
 be justice, that would be excellent; but never does such a 
 godsend fall to the lot of the poor man. The rich man, on 
 the contrary, makes himself revenues with his money, 
 which he does not touch. Here are three hundred and 
 seventy-five livres which fall to me from heaven. I will go, 
 then, to the Image de Notre Dame, and drink a glass of 
 Spanish wine with my tenant, which he cannot fail to offer 
 me. But order must be observed, Monsieur d'Artagnan, 
 order must be observed. Let us organize our time then, 
 and distribute the employment of it. Art. 1st, Athos; Art. 
 2d, the Image de Notre Dame; Art. 3d, Monsieur Fouquet; 
 Art. 4th, Monsieur Colbert; Art. 5th, supper; Art. 6th, 
 clothes, boots/ horse, portmanteau; Art. 7th and last, 
 sleep." 
 
 In consequence of this arrangement, D'Artagnan then 
 went straight to the Comte de la Fere, to whom, modestly 
 
396 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 and ingenuously, he related a part of his fortunate adven- 
 tures. Athos had not been without uneasiness on the sub- 
 ject of D'Artagnan's visit to the king; but few words 
 sufficed as an explanation of that. Athos divined that 
 Louis had charged D'Artagnan with some important mis- 
 sion, and did not even make an effort to draw the secret from 
 him. He only recommended him to take care of himself, 
 and offered discreetly to accompany him, if that were 
 desirable. 
 
 "But, my dear friend," said D'Artagnan, "I am going 
 nowhere." 
 
 "What! you come and bid me adieu, and are going 
 nowhere?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, yes," replied D'Artagnan, coloring a little; "I 
 am going to make an acquisition." 
 
 "That is quite another thing. Then, I change my for- 
 mula. Instead of, 'Do not get yourself killed,' I will say, 
 'Do not get yourself robbed.' " 
 
 "My friend, I will inform you if I cast my eye upon any 
 property that pleases me, and shall expect you will favor 
 me with your opinion." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Athos, too delicate to commit himself 
 even the consolation of a smile. 
 
 Eaoul imitated the paternal reserve. But D'Artagnan 
 thought it would appear too mysterious to leave his friends 
 under a pretense, without even telling them the route he 
 was about to take. 
 
 "I have chosen Le Mans," said he to Athos. "Is it a 
 good country?" 
 
 "Excellent, my friend," replied the comte, without mak- 
 ing him observe that Le Mans was in the same direction as 
 La Touraine, and that by waiting two days, at mos':, he 
 might travel with a friend. But D'Artagnan, more embar- 
 rassed than the comte, dug, at every explanation, deeper 
 into the mud, into which he sank by degrees. "I shall set 
 out to-morrow at daybreak," said he, at last. "Till that 
 time, will you come with me, Eaoul?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier," said the young man, "if 
 Monsieur le Comte does not want me." 
 
 "No, Eaoul; I am to have an audience to-day ' l Mon- 
 sieur, the king's brother; that is all I have to do." 
 
 Eaoul asked Grimaud for his sword, which thp >ld man 
 brought him immediately. 
 
 "Now, then," added D'Artagnan, opening hh arms to 
 Athos, "adieu, my dear friend." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE ERAGELONtfE. 3$7 
 
 Athos held him in a long embrace, and the musketeer, 
 who knew his discretion so well, murmured in his ear, "An 
 affair of state," to which Athos only replied by a pressure 
 of the hand still more significant. They then separated. 
 Raoul took the arm of his old friend, who led him along 
 the Rue St. Honore. 
 
 "I am conducting you to the abode of the god Plutus," 
 said D'Artagnan to the young man; "prepare yourself. 
 The whole day you will witness the piling up of crowns. 
 Good God! how I am changed!" 
 
 "Oh, oh! what numbers of people there are in the street!" 
 said Eaoul. 
 
 "Is there a procession to-day?" asked D'Artagnan of a 
 passer-by. 
 
 "Monsieur, it is a hanging," replied the man. 
 
 "What! a hanging at the Greve?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I 
 want to go and take my rent!" cried D'Artagnan. "Raoul, 
 did you ever see anybody hung?" 
 
 "Never, monsieur — thank God!" 
 
 "Oh, how young that sounds! If you were on guard in 
 the trenches, as I was, and a spy — But, look you, pardon 
 me, Raoul, I am doting — you are quite right, it is a hideous 
 sight to see a person hung. At what hour do they hang, 
 monsieur, if you please?" 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the stranger respectfully, delighted 
 at joining conversation with two men of the sword, "it will 
 take place about three o'clock." 
 
 "Oh! oh! it is now only half-past one; let us step out; 
 we shall be there in time to touch my three hundred and 
 seventy-five livres, and get away before the arrival of the 
 malefactor." 
 
 "Malefactors, monsieur," continued the bou geois; 
 'there are two of them." 
 
 "Monsieur, I return you many thanks," said D'Artag- 
 nan, who, as he grew older, had become polite to a degree. 
 Drawing Raoul along, he directed his course rapidly in the 
 direction of La Greve. Without that great experience 
 musketeers have of a crowd, to which were joined an irre- 
 sistible strength of wrist and an uncommon suppleness of 
 shoulders, our two travelers would not have arrived at their 
 place of destination. They followed the line of the Quai, 
 which they had gained on quitting the Rue St. Honore, 
 where they left Athos. D'Artagnan went first; his elbow, 
 
398 THE VICOMTE V>V. BBAGELOBTNE. 
 
 his wrist, his shoulder formed three wedges which he knew 
 how to insinuate with skill into the groups, to make them 
 split and separate like pieces of wood. He often made use 
 of the hilt of his sword as an additional help; introducing 
 it between ribs that were too rebellious, making it take the 
 part of a lever or crowbar, to separate husband from wife, 
 uncle from nephew, and brother from brother. And all 
 this was done so naturally, and with such gracious smiles, 
 that people must have had ribs of bronze not to cry "Thank 
 you'' when the wrist made its play, or hearts of diamonds 
 not to be enchanted when the bland smile enlivened the lips 
 of the musketeer. Raoul, following his friend, cajoled the 
 women who admired his beauty, pushed back the men, who 
 felt the rigidity of his muscles, and both opened, thanks to 
 these maneuvers, the rather compact and rather muddy 
 tide of the populace. They arrived in sight of the two 
 gibbets, from which Raoul turned away his eyes in disgust. 
 As for D'Artagnan, he did not even see them: his house, 
 with its gabled roof, its windows crowded with the curious, 
 attracted and even absorbed all the attention he was capa- 
 ble of. He distinguished in the Place and around the 
 houses a good number of musketeers on leave, who, some 
 with women, others with friends, awaited the moment of 
 the ceremony. What rejoiced him above all was to see that 
 his tenant, the cabaretier, was so busy he did not know 
 which way to turn himself. Three lads could not supply 
 the drinkers. They filled the shop, the chambers, and the 
 court even. D'Artagnan called Raoul's attention to this 
 concourse, adding: 
 
 "The fellow will have no excuse for not paying his rent. 
 Look at those drinkers, Raoul, one would say they were 
 jolly companions! Mordioux ! why, there is no room any- 
 where!" 
 
 D'Artagnan, however, contrived to catch hold of the 
 master by the corner of his apron, and to make himself 
 known to him. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur le Chevalier," said the cabaretier, half 
 muzzy, "one minute, if you please. I have here a hundred 
 mad devils turning my cellar upside down." 
 
 "The cellar, if you like, but not the money-box." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur, your thirty-seven and a half pistoles are 
 all counted out ready for you upstairs in my chamber; but 
 there are in that chamber thirty customers, who are suck- 
 ing the staves of a little barrel of Oporto which I tapped 
 for them this morning. Give me a minute — only a minute. : ' 
 
THE VICOMTE DE RKAOELONNE. 399 
 
 "So be it, so be it!'' 
 
 "I will go," said Eaoul, in a low voice, to D'Artagnan; 
 "this hilarity is vile." 
 
 "Monsieur," replied D'Artagnan sternly, "you will 
 please to remain where you are. The soldier ought to 
 familiarize himself with all kinds of spectacles. There are 
 in the eye, when it is young, fibers which we must learn 
 how to harden; and we are not truly generous and good 
 but from the moment when the eye has become hardened 
 and the heart remains tender. Besides, my little Eaoul, 
 would you leave me alone here? That would be very ill of 
 you. Look! there is yonder in the lower court a tree, and 
 under the shade of that tree we shall breathe more freely 
 than in this hot atmosphere of spilled wine." 
 
 From the spot on which they had placed themselves the 
 two new guests of the Image de Notre Dame heard the 
 ever-increasing murmurs of the tide of people, and lost 
 neither a cry nor a gesture of the drinkers, at tables, in the 
 cabaret, or disseminated in the chambers. If D'Artagnan 
 had wished to place himself as a vidette for an expedition, 
 he could not have succeeded better. The tree under which 
 he and Eaoul were seated covered them with its already 
 thick foliage; it was a low, thick chestnut-tree, with in- 
 clined branches, which cast their shade over a table so 
 broken that the drinkers had abandoned it. We said that 
 from this post D'Artagnan saw everything. He observed 
 the goings and comings of the waiters; the arrival of fresh 
 drinkers; the welcome, sometimes friendly, sometimes 
 hostile, given to certain newcomers by certain others that 
 were installed. He observed all this to amuse himself, for 
 the thirty-seven and a half pistoles were a long time com- 
 ing. Eaoul recalled his attention to it. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "you do not hurry your tenant, 
 and the condemned will soon be here. There will then be 
 such a press we shall not be able to get out." 
 
 "You are right," said the musketeer. "Bola! oh, some- 
 body there! Mordioux!" 
 
 But it was in vain he cried and knocked upon the wreck 
 of the old table, which fell to pieces beneath his fist; no- 
 body came. D'Artagnan was preparing to go and seek the 
 cabaretier himself, to force him to a definite explanation, 
 when the door of the court in which he was with Eaoul, a 
 door which communicated with the garden situated at the 
 back, opened, and a man dressed as a cavalier, with his 
 sword in the sheath, but not at his belt, crossed the court 
 
400 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB. 
 
 without closing the door; and having cast an oblique glance 
 at D : Artagnan and his companion, directed his course 
 toward the cabaret itself, looking about in all directions 
 with his eyes capable of piercing walls of consciences. 
 
 "Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "my tenants are communi- 
 cating. That, no doubt, now, is some amateur in hanging 
 matters." 
 
 At the same moment the cries and disturbance in the 
 upper chambers ceased. Silence, under such circumstances, 
 surprises more than a twofold increase of noise. D'Artag- 
 nan wished to see what was the cause of this sudden silence. 
 He then perceived that this man, dressed as a cavalier, had 
 just entered the principal chamber, and was haranguing 
 the tiplers, who all listened to him with the greatest atten- 
 tion. D'Artagnan would, perhaps, have heard his speech 
 but for the dominant noise of tne popular clamors, which 
 made a formidable accompaniment to the harangue of the 
 orator. But it was soon finished, and all the people the 
 cabaret contained came out, one after the other, in little 
 groups, so that there only remained six in the chamber; 
 one of these six, the man with the sword, took the cabaretier 
 aside, engaging him in discourse more or less serious, while 
 the others lighted a great fire in the chimney-place — a cir- 
 cumstance rendered strange by the fine weather and the 
 heat. 
 
 "It is very singular," said D'Artagnan to Raoul, "but I 
 think I know those faces yonder." 
 
 "Don't you think you can smell the smoke here?" said 
 Raoul. 
 
 "I rather think I can smell a conspiracy?" replied D'Ar- 
 tagnan. 
 
 He had not finished speaking, when four of these men 
 came down into the court, and without the appearance of 
 any bad design, mounted guard at the door of communica- 
 tion, casting, at intervals, glances at D'Artagnan, which 
 signified many things. 
 
 " Mordioux /" said D'Artagnan in alow voice, "there is 
 something going on. Are you curious, Raoul?" 
 
 "According to the subject, chevalier." 
 
 "Well, I am as curious as an old woman. Come a little 
 more in front; Ave shall get a better view of the place. I 
 would lay a wager that view will be something curious." 
 
 "But you know, Monsieur le Chevalier, that I am not 
 willing to become a passive and indifferent spectator of the 
 ivHth of the two poor devile ' 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKaGELONKE. 401 
 
 "And I, then — do you think I am a savage? We will go 
 in again, when it is time to do so. Come along!" 
 
 And they made their way toward the front of the house, 
 and placed themselves near the window which, still more 
 strangely than the rest, remained unoccupied. The two 
 last drinkers, instead of looking out at this window, kept 
 up the fire. On seeing D'Artagnan and his friend enter: 
 
 "Ah! ah! a reinforcement!" murmured they. 
 
 D'Artagnan jogged Raoul's elbow. 
 
 "Yes, my braves, a reinforcement," said he. "Cordieu ! 
 there is a famous fire. Whom are you going to cook?" 
 
 The two men uttered a shout of jovial laughter, and in- 
 stead of answering threw on more wood. D'Artagnan 
 could not take his eyes off them. 
 
 "I suppose," said one of the fire-makers, "they sent you 
 to tell us the time — have they not?" 
 
 "Without doubt they have," said D'Artagnan, anxious 
 to know what was going on; "why should I be here else, if 
 it were not for that?" 
 
 "Then place yourself at the window, if you please, and 
 observe." 
 
 D'Artagnan smiled in his mustache, made a sign to 
 Raoul, and placed himself at the window. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 vive Colbert! 
 
 The spectacle which the Greve now presented was a tright- 
 ful one. The heads, leveled by the perspective, extended 
 afar, thick and agitated as the ears of corn in a vast plain. 
 From time to time a fresh report, or a distant rumor, made 
 the heads oscillate and thousand of eyes flash. Now and 
 then there were great movements. All those ears of corn 
 bent, and became waves more agitated than those of the 
 ocean, which rolled from the extremities to the center, and 
 beat, like the tides, against the hedge of archers who sur- 
 rounded the gibbets. Then the handles of the halberds 
 were let fall upon the heads and shoulders of the rash in' 
 vaders; at times, also, it was the steel as well as the wood, 
 and, in that case, a large empty circle was formed around 
 the guard; a space conquered upon the extremities, which 
 underwent, in their turn, the oppression of the sudden 
 movement, which drove them against the parapets of th» 
 
402 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Seine. From the window that commanded a view of the 
 whole Place, D'Artagnan saw, with interior satisfaction, 
 that such of the musketeers and guards as found themselves 
 involved in the crowd were able, with blows of their lists 
 and the hilts of their swords, to keep room. He even re- 
 marked that they had succeeded, by that esprit de corps 
 which doubles the strength of the soldier, in getting to- 
 gether in one group to the amount of about fifty men; and 
 that, with the exception of a dozen stragglers whom he still 
 saw rolling here and there, the nucleus was complete, and 
 within reach of his voice. But it was not the musketeers 
 and guards only that drew the attention of D'Artagnan. 
 Around the gibbets, and particularly at the entrances to 
 the Arcade of St. Jean, moved a noisy mass, a busy mass; 
 daring faces, resolute demeanors were to be seen here and 
 there, mingled with silly faces and indifferent demeanors; 
 signals were exchanged, hands given and taken. D'Artag- 
 nan remarked among the groups, and those groups the most 
 animated, the face of the cavalier whom he had seen enter 
 by the door of communication from his garden, and who 
 had gone upstairs to harangue the drinkers. That man 
 was organizing troops and giving orders. 
 
 "Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "I was not 
 deceived; I know that man — it is Menneville. What the 
 devil is he doing here?" 
 
 A distant murmur, which became more distinct by de- 
 grees, stopped this reflection, and drew his attention an- 
 other way. This murmur was occasioned by the arrival of 
 the culprits; a strong picket of archers preceded them, and 
 appeared at the angle of the arcade. The whole entire 
 crowd now joined as if in one cry; all the cries united 
 formed one immense how!. D'Artagnan saw Raoul was be- 
 coming pale, and he slapped him roughly on the shoulder. 
 The fire-keepers turned round on hearing the great cry, 
 and asked what was going on. 
 
 "The condemned are arrived," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "That's well," replied they, again replenishing the fire. 
 
 D'Artagnan looked at them with much uneasiness; it was 
 evident that these men, who were making such a fire, for no 
 apparent purpose, had some strange intentions. The con- 
 demned appeared upon the Place. They were walking, the 
 executioner before them, while fifty archers formed a hedge 
 on their right and their left. Both were dressed in black; 
 they appeared pale, but firm. They looked impatiently 
 over the people's heads, standing on tiptoe at every step. 
 D'Artagnan remarked this. 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOJO'E. 403 
 
 "Mordioux !" cried he, "they are in a great hurry to get 
 a sight of the gibbet!" 
 
 Kaoul drew back, without, however, having the power to 
 leave the window. Terror even has its attractions. 
 
 "To the death! to the death!" cried fifty thousand voices. 
 
 "Yes; to the death!" howled a hundred frantic others 
 as if the gneat mass had given them the reply. 
 
 "To the halter! to the halter!" cried the great whole. 
 " Vive le Roi /" 
 
 "Well," said D'Artagnan, "this is droll; I should have 
 thought it was Monsieur Colbert who had caused them to 
 be hung." 
 
 There was, at this moment, a great rolling movement in 
 the crowd, which stopped for a moment the march of the 
 condemned. The people of a bold and resolute mien, whom 
 D'Artagnan had observed, by dint of pressing, pushing, and 
 lifting themselves up, had succeeded in almost touching 
 the hedge of archers. The cortege resumed its march. All 
 at once, to cries of " Vive Colbert!" those men of whom 
 D'Artagnan never lost sight, fell upon the escort, which in 
 vain endeavored to stand against them. Behind these men 
 was the crowd. Then commenced, amid a frightful tumult, 
 as frightful a confusion. This time there was something 
 more than cries of expectation or cries of joy, there were 
 cries of pain. Halberds struck men down, swords ran them 
 through, muskets were discharged at them. The confusion 
 became then so great that D'Artagnan could no longer dis- 
 tinguish anything. Then, from this chaos, suddenly surged 
 something like a visible intention, like a will pronounced. 
 The condemned had been torn from the hands of the 
 guards, and were being dragged toward the house of 
 l'lmage de Notre Dame. Those who dragged them shouted. 
 " Vive Colbert!" The people hesitated, not knowing whic': 
 they ought to fall upon, the archers or the aggressors 
 What stopped the people was, that those who cried " Vive 
 Colbert!" began to cry, at the same time, "No halter! no 
 halter! To the fire! to the fire! Burn the thieves! burn 
 the extortioners!" This cry, shouted with an ensemble, 
 obtained enthusiastic success. The populace had come to 
 witness an execution, and here was an opportunity offered 
 them of performing one themselves. It was this that must 
 be most agreeable to the populace; therefore, they ranged 
 themselves immediately on the party of the aggressors 
 against the archers, crying with the minority, which had 
 become, thanks to them, the most compact majority. 
 "Yes, yes; to the fire witli the tiiieves! Vive Colbert!" 
 
404 THE VI'JOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 " Mordioux /" exclaimed D'Artagnan, "this begins to look 
 serious." 
 
 One of the men who remained near the chimney ap- 
 proached the window, a firebrand in his hand. ''Ah, ah!" 
 said he, "it gets warm." Then, turning to his companion, 
 "There is the signal," added he; and he immediately ap- 
 plied the burning brand to the wainscoting. Now, this 
 cabaret of the Image de Notre Dame was not a very newly 
 .built house; and, therefore, did not require much entreat- 
 ing to take fire. In a second the boards began to crackle, 
 and the flames arose, sparkling, to the ceiling. A howling 
 from without replied to the shouts of the incendiaries. 
 D'Artagnan, who had not seen what passed, from being 
 engaged at the window, felt, at the same time, the smoke 
 which choked him and the fire that scorched him. 
 
 "Hola!" cried he, turning round, "is the fire here? Are 
 you drunk or mad, my masters?" 
 
 The two men looked at each other with an air of astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "In what?" asked the-y of D'Artagnan. "Was it not a 
 thing agreed upon?" 
 
 "A thing agreed upon that you should burn my house!" 
 vociferated D'Artagnan, snatching the brand from the hand 
 of the incendiary, and striking him with it across the face. 
 The second wanted to assist his comrade, but Eaoul, seiz- 
 ing him by the middle, threw him out of the w f indow, while 
 D'Artagnan pushed his man down the stairs. Raoul, first 
 disengaged, tore the burning wainscoting down, and threw 
 it flaming into the chamber. At a glance, D'Artagnan saw 
 there was nothing to be feared from the fire, and sprang to 
 the window. The disorder was at its height. The air was 
 filled with simultaneous cries of "To the fire!" "To the 
 death!" "To the halter!" "To the stake!" "Vive Col- 
 bert!" " Vive le Rot !" The group which had forced the 
 culprits from the hands of the archers had drawn close to 
 the house, which appeared to be the goal toward which they 
 dragged them. Menneville was at the head of this group, 
 shouting louder than all the others, "To the fire! to the 
 fire! Vive Colbert!" D'Artagnan began to comprehend 
 what was meant. They wanted to burn the condemned, 
 and his house was to serve as a funeral pile. 
 
 "Halt, there!" cried he, sword in hand, and one foot 
 upon the window. "Menneville, what do you want to do?'* 
 
 "Monsieur d'Artagnau," cried the latter, "give way, give 
 way!" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 405 
 
 "To the fire! to the fire with the thieves! Vive Colbert!" 
 
 These cries exasperated D'Artagnan. " Mordioux!' said 
 he. "What! burn the poor devils who are only condemned 
 to be hung? That is infamous!" 
 
 Before the door, however, the mass of anxious spectators, 
 rolled back against the walls, had become more thick, and 
 closed up the way. Menneville and his men, who were 
 dragging along the culprits, were within ten paces of the 
 door. 
 
 Menneville made a last effort. "Passage! passage!" cried 
 he, pistol in hand. 
 
 "Burn them! burn them!" repeated the crowd. "The 
 Image de Notre Dame is on fire! Burn the thieves! burn 
 the monopolists in the Image de Notre Dame!" 
 
 There now remained no doubt; it was plainly D'Artag- 
 nan's house that was their object. D'Artagnan remem- 
 bered the old cry, always so effective from his mouth: "A 
 mot, rnousquetaires !" shouted he, with a voice of a giant, 
 with one of those voices which dominate over cannon, the 
 sea, the tempest. "A moi, rnousquetaires!" And suspend- 
 ing himself by the arm from the balcony, he allowed him- 
 self to drop amid the crowd, which began to draw back 
 from a house that rained men. Raoul was on the ground 
 as soon as he, both sword in hand. All the musketeers on 
 the Place heard that challenging cry — all turned round at 
 that cry, and recognized D'Artagnan. 
 
 "To the captain! to the captain!" cried they, in their 
 turn. And the crowd opened before them as if before the 
 prow of a vessel. At that moment D'Artagnan and Men- 
 neville found themselves face to face. 
 
 "Passage! passage!" cried Menneville, seeing that he was 
 within an arm's-length of the door. 
 
 "No one passes here!" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Take that, then!" said Menneville, firing his pistol, 
 almost within touch. But before the cock had dropped, 
 D'Artagnan had struck up Menneville's arm with the hilt 
 of his sword, and passed the blade through his body. 
 
 "I told you plainly to keep yourself quiet," said D'Ar- 
 tagnan to Menneville, who rolled at his feet. 
 
 "Passage! passage!" cried the companions of Menneville, 
 at first terrified, but soon recovering, when they found they 
 had only to do with two men. But those two men were 
 hundred-armed giants; the sword flies about in their hands 
 like the burning glaive of the archangel. It pierces with 
 its point, strikes with its back, cuts with its e« , < ,t> : everv 
 stroke brings dew-* its 
 
406 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 " For the king ! " cried D'Artagnan, to every man he strnck 
 at, that is to .say, to every man that fell. This cry became 
 the charging word for the musketeers, who, guided hy it, 
 joined D'Artagnan. During this time the archers, recover- 
 ing from the panic they hud undergone, charged the aggres- 
 sors in the rear, and regular as mill-strokes, overturn or 
 knock down all that oppose them. The crowd, which sees 
 swords gleaming, and drops of blood flying in the air — the 
 crowd falls back and crushes itself. At length cries for 
 mercy and of despair resound; that is, the farewell of th< 
 vanquished. 
 
 The two condemned are again in tho hands of the archers. 
 D'Artagnan approaches them, and seeing them pale and 
 sinking : 
 
 " Console yourselves, poor men," said he, "you will not 
 >tindergo the frightful torture with which these wretches 
 threaten you. The king has condemned you to be hung ; 
 you shall only be hung. Go on ; hang them, and it will be 
 over." 
 
 There is no longer anything going on at the Image do 
 Notre Dame. The fire has been extinguished with two tuns 
 of wine in default of water. The conspirators have fled by 
 the garden. The archers were dragging the culprits to the 
 gibbets. From this moment the affair did not occupy much 
 time. The executioner, heedless about operating accord- 
 ing to the rules of art, made such haste that he dispatched 
 the condemned in a minute In the meantime the people 
 gathered around D'Artagnan — they felicitated, they cheered 
 him. He wiped his brow, streaming with sweat, and his 
 sword, streaming with blood. He shrugged his shoulders 
 tit seeing Menneville writhing at his feet in the last convul- 
 sions. And, while Eaoul turned away his eyes in compas , 
 sion, he pointed up to the musketeers the gibbets laden ' 
 with their melancholy fruit. 
 
 ''Poor devils !" said he, "I hope they died blessing rre 
 for I saved them narrowly." 
 
 These words caught the ear of Menneville at the moment 
 when he himself was breathing his last sigh. A dark, iron- 
 ical smile flitted across his lips ; he wished to reply, but the 
 effort hastened the snapping of the chord of life — he 
 expired. 
 
 " Oh ! all this is very frightful ! " murmured Eaoul ; " let 
 us be gone, Monsieur le Chevalier." 
 
 " You are not wounded ?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 " Not at all, thank you." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 40? 
 
 "That's well! Thou art a, brave fellow, mordioux! The 
 head of the father, and the arm of Porthos. Ah! if he had 
 been here, that Porthos, you would have seen something 
 worth looking at." Then, as if by way of remembrance: 
 
 "But where the devil can that brave Porthos be?"' mur- 
 mured D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Come, chevalier, pray come!" urged Raoul. 
 
 "One minute, my friend; let me take my thirty-seven 
 and a half pistoles, and I shall be at your service. The 
 house is a good property," added D'Artagnan, as he entered 
 the Image de Notre Dame, "but decidedly, even if it were 
 less profitable, I should prefer its being in another quarter." 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 HOW THE DIAMOND OF M. D'EYMERIS PASSED INTO THE 
 HANDS OF M. D'ARTAGNAN. 
 
 "While this violent, noisy, and bloody scene was passing 
 on the Greve, several men, barricaded behind the gate of 
 communication with the garden, replaced their swords in 
 their sheaths, assisted one among them to mount a ready 
 saddled horse which was waiting in the garden, and, like a 
 flock of terrified birds, fled away in all directions, some 
 climbing the walls, others rushing out at the gates with all 
 the fury of a panic. He who mounted the horse, and who 
 gave him the spur so sharply that the animal was near leap- 
 ing the wall, this cavalier, we say, crossed the Place Bau- 
 doyer, passed like lightning before the crowd in the streets, 
 riding against, running over, and knocking down all that 
 came in his way, and, ten minutes after, arrived at the 
 gates of the surintendant, more out of breath than his 
 horse. The Abbe Fouquet, at the clatter of the hoofs on 
 the pavement, appeared at a window of the court, and be- 
 fore even the cavalier had set foot to the ground, "Well, 
 Danecamp?" cried he, leaning half out of the window. 
 "Well, it is all over," replied the cavalier. 
 "All over!" cried the abbe. "Then they are saved?" 
 "No, monsieur," replied the cavalier, "they are hung." 
 "Hung!" repeated the abbe, turning pale. A lateral 
 door suddenly opened, and Fouquet appeared in the cham- 
 ber, pale, distracted, with lips half open, breathing a cry of 
 grief and anger. He stopped upon the threshold to listen 
 to what was addressed from the court to the window. 
 
408 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Miserable wretches!" said the abbe, "you did not fight 
 then?" 
 
 "Like lions.' ; 
 
 "Say like cowards." 
 
 "Monsieur!" 
 
 "A hundred men accustomed to war, sword in hand, are 
 worth ten thousand archers in a surprise. AVhere is Men- 
 neville, that boaster, that braggart, who Avas to come back 
 either dead or a conqueror." 
 
 "Well, monsieur, he has kept his word; he is dead!" 
 
 "Dead! Who killed him?" 
 
 "A demon disguised as a man, a giant armed with ten 
 flaming swords — a madman, who at one blow extinguished 
 the fire, extinguished the riot, and caused a hundred mus- 
 keteers to rise up out of the pavement of the Place de 
 Greve." 
 
 Fouquet raised his brow, streaming with sweat, mur- 
 muring, "Oh! Lyodot and D'Eymeris! dead! dead! dead! 
 and I dishonored." 
 
 The abbe turned round, and perceiving his brother de- 
 spairing and livid, "Come, come," said he, "it is a blow of 
 fate, monsieur; we must not lament thus. As it is not 
 effected, it is because God " 
 
 "Be silent, abbe, be silent!" cried Fouquet, "your ex- 
 cuses are blasphemies. Order that man up here, and let 
 him relate the details of this horrible event." 
 
 "But, brother " 
 
 "Obey, monsieur!" 
 
 The abbe made a sign, and in half a minute the step of 
 the man was hea "d upon the stairs. At the same time 
 Gourville appeared behind Fouquet, like the guardian angel 
 of the surintendant, pressing one finger upon his lips to 
 enjoin observation even amid the bursts of his grief. The 
 minister resumed all the serenity that human strength could 
 leave at the disposal of a heart half-broken with sorrow. 
 Danecamp appeared. "Make your report," said Gourville. 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the messenger, "we received orders 
 to carry off the prisoners, and to cry ' Vive Colbert!' while 
 carrying them off." 
 
 "To burn them alive, was it not, abbe?" interrupted 
 Gourville. 
 
 "Yes, yes, the order was given to Menneville. Menne- 
 ville knew what was to be done, and Menneville is dead." 
 This news appeared rather to reassure Gourville than to 
 sadden him, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 409 
 
 "Yes, certainly, to burn them alive/' said the abbe 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Granted, monsieur, granted," said the man, looking 
 into the eyes and the faces of the two interlocutors, to 
 ascertain what there was profitable or disadvantageous to 
 himself in telling the truth. 
 
 "Now, proceed," said Gourville. 
 The prisoners," cried Danecamp, "were brought to the 
 Greve, and the people, in a fury, insisted upon their being 
 burned instead of being hung." 
 
 "And the people were right," said the abbe. "Go on." 
 
 "But," resumed the man, "at the moment the archers 
 were broken, at the moment the fire was set to one of the 
 houses of the Place destined to serve as a funeral pile for 
 the guilty, the fury, the demon, the giant of whom I told 
 you, and who, we had been informed, was the proprietor of 
 the house in question, aided by a young man who accom- 
 panied him, threw out of the window those who kept up 
 the fire, called to his assistance the musketeers who were in 
 the crowd, leaped himself from the window of the first story 
 into the Place, and plied his sword so desperately that the 
 victory was restored to the archers, the prisoners were 
 retaken, and Menneville killed. When once recaptured, 
 the condemned were executed in three minutes." Fou- 
 quet, in spite of his self-command, could not prevent a deep 
 groan from escaping him. 
 
 "And this man, the proprietor of the house, what is his 
 name?" said the abbe. 
 
 "I cannot tell you, never having been able to get sight of 
 him; my post had been appointed in the garden, and I re- 
 mained at my post; only the affair was related to me as I 
 repeat it. I was ordered, when once the thing was ended, 
 to come at best speed and announce to you the manner in 
 which it finished. According to this order, I set out, full 
 gallop, and here I am." 
 
 "Very well, monsieur, we have nothing else to ask of 
 you,!' said the abbe, more and more dejected, in proportion 
 as the moment approached for finding himself alone with 
 his brother. 
 
 "Have yor been paid?" asked Gourville. 
 
 "Partly, monsieur," replied Danecamp. 
 
 "Here are twenty pistoles. Be gone, monsieur, and 
 never forget to defend, as this time has been done, the true 
 interests of the king." 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," said the man, bowing and pocketing 
 
410 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 the money. After which he went out. Scarcely had the 
 door closed after him, when Fouquet, who had remained 
 motionless, advanced with a rapid step, and stood between 
 the abbe and Gourville. Both of them at the same time 
 opened their mouths to speak to him. "No excuses," said 
 he, "no recriminations against anybody. If I had not been 
 a false friend I should not have confided to any one the 
 care of delivering Lyodot and D'Eymeris. I alone am 
 guilty ; to me alone are reproaches and remorse due. Leave 
 me, abbe.'' 
 
 "And yet, monsieur, you will not prevent me," replied 
 the latter, "from endeavoring to find out the miserable 
 fellow who has intervened for the advantage of Monsieur 
 Colbert in this so well-arranged affair; for, if it is good 
 policy to love our friends dearly, I do not believe that is 
 bad which consistsin pursuing our enemies with inveteracy." 
 
 "A truce to policy, abbe ; be gone, I beg of you, and do 
 not let me hear any more of you till I send for you ; what 
 we most need is circumspection and silence. You have a 
 terrible example before you, gentlemen; no reprisals, I for- 
 bid them." — " There are no orders," grumbled the abbe, 
 "which will prevent me from avenging a family affront 
 upon the guilty person." 
 
 "And I," cried Fouquet, in that imperative tone to which 
 one feels there is nothing to reply, "if you entertain one 
 thought, one single thought, which is not the absolute ex- 
 pression of my will, I will have you cast into the Bastile 
 two hours after that thought has manifested itself. Regu- 
 late your conduct accordingly, abbe." 
 
 The abbe colored and bowed. Fouquet made a sign to 
 Gourville to follow him, and was already directing his steps 
 toward his cabinet, when the usher announced with a loud 
 voice: "Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Who is he ?" said Fouquet, negligently, to Gourville. 
 
 "An ex-lieutenant of his majesty's musketeers," replied 
 Gourville, in the same tone. Fouquet did not even take 
 the trouble to reflect, and resumed his walk. "I beg your 
 pardon, monseigneur !" said Gourville, "but I have remem- 
 bered ; this brave man has quitted the king's service, and 
 probably comes to receive a quarter of some pension or 
 other/" — " Devil take him! " said Fouquet, " why does he 
 choose his time so ill? n 
 
 '"Permit me, then, monseigneur, to announce your re- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 411 
 
 fusal to him; for he is one of my acquaintances, and is a 
 man whom, in our present circumstances, it would be better 
 to have as a friend than an enemy." 
 
 "Answer him as you please," said Fouquet. 
 
 "Eh! good Lord!" said the abbe, still full of malice, like 
 an egotistical man; "tell him there is no money, particu- 
 larly for musketeers." ' 
 
 But scarcely had the abbe uttered this imprudent speech, 
 when the partly open door was thrown back, and D'Artag- 
 nan appeared. 
 
 "Eh! Monsieur Fouquet," said he, "I was well aware 
 there was no money for musketeers here. Therefore I did 
 not come to obtain any, but to have it refused. That being 
 done, receive my thanks. I give you a good-day, and will 
 go and seek it at Monsieur Colbert's." And he went out, 
 after making an easy bow. 
 
 "Gourville," said Fouquet, "run after that man and 
 bring him back." Gourville obeyed, and overtook D'Ar- 
 tagnan on the stairs. D'Artagnan, hearing steps behind 
 him, turned round and perceived Gourville. "Mordioua! 
 my dear monsieur," said he, "these are sad lessons which 
 you gentlemen of finance teach us; i come to Monsieur 
 Fouquet to receive a sum accorded by his majesty, and I 
 am received like a mendicant who comes to ask charity, or 
 like a thief who comes to steal a piece of plate." 
 
 "But you pronounced the name of Monsieur Colbert, my 
 dear Monsieur d'Artagnan; you said you were going to 
 Monsieur Colbert's?" 
 
 "I certainly am going there, were it only to ask satisfac- 
 tion of the people who try to burn houses, crying ' Vive 
 Colbert!'" 
 
 Gourville pricked up his ears. "Oh, oh!" said he, "you 
 allude to what has just happened at the Greve?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly." 
 
 "And in what did that which has taken place concern 
 you?" 
 
 "What! do you ask me whether it concerns me, or does 
 not concern me, if Monsieur Colbert pleases to make a 
 funeral pile of my house?" 
 
 "So, your house! — was it your house they wanted to 
 burn?" 
 
 "Pardieul was it!" 
 
 "Is the cabaret of the Image de Notre Dame vours, 
 then?" 
 
 "It has been this week." 
 
112 THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONNE. 
 
 "'Weil, then, are you the brave captain who dispersed those 
 who wished to burn the condemned?" 
 
 "My dear Monsieur Gourville, put yourself in my place; 
 { am an agent of the public force and a proprietor. As a 
 ;aptain, it is my duty to have the orders of the king accom- 
 plished. As a proprietor, it is my interest my house should 
 jot be burned. I have, then, at the same time attended to 
 the laws of interest and duty in replacing Messrs. Lyodot 
 md D'Eymeris in the hands of the archers." 
 
 "Then it was you who threw the man out of the window? 7 ' 
 
 "It was I, myself," replied D'Artagnan modestly. 
 
 "And you who killed Menneville?" 
 
 "I had that misfortune," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "It was you, then, in short, who caused the two condemned 
 nersons to be hung?" 
 
 "Instead of being burned, yes, monsieur, and I am prouc 
 jf it. I saved the poor devils from horrible tortures. Um 
 derstand, my dear Monsieur de Gourville, that they wanted 
 to burn them alive ! It exceeds imagination." 
 
 "Go, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, go," said Gourville, 
 anxious to spare Fouquet the sight of a man who had just 
 2auscd him such profound grief. 
 
 "No," said Fouquet, who had heard all from the door of 
 the antechamber; "not so; on the contrary, Monsieur d'Artag- 
 nan, come in." 
 
 D'Artagnan wiped from the hilt of his sw^ord a last bloody 
 trace, which had escaped his notice, and returned. He then 
 found himself face to face with these three men, whose coun- 
 tenances wore very different expressions; with the abbe it was 
 anger, with Gourville it was stupor, with Fouquet it was de- 
 jection. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Ministre," said D'Artag- 
 nan, "but my time is short ; I have to go to the office of the 
 intendant, to have an explanation w r ith Monsieur Colbert* and 
 tc take my quarter's pension." 
 
 "But, monsieur," said Fouquet, "there is money here/* 
 D'Artagnan looked at the surintendant with astonishment. 
 "You have been answered inconsiderately, monsieur, I know, 
 because I heard it," said the minister; "a man of your merit 
 ought to be known by everybody." D'Artagnan bowed. 
 "Have you an order ?" added Fouquet. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Givr? it me, I will pay you myself; come with ae. ; ' 
 
THE VICOMTE HE BRAOELONNE. 413 
 
 He made a sign to Gourville and the abbe, who remained in 
 the chamber where they were. He led D'Artagnan into his 
 cabinet. As soon as the door was shut,, "How much is due 
 to you, monsieur?" 
 
 "Why, something like five thousand livres, monseigneur." 
 
 "For your arrears of pay?" 
 
 "For a quarter's pay." 
 
 "A quarter consisting of five thousand livres!" :aid Fou- 
 quet, fixing upon the musketeer a searching look. "Does 
 the king, then, give you twenty thousand livres a year?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur, twenty thousand livres a year; do 
 you think it is too much?" 
 
 "I?" cried Fouquet, and he smiled bitterly. "If I had 
 any knowledge of mankind, if I were — instead of being a 
 frivolous, inconsistent, nd vain spirit — of a prudent and 
 reflective spirit; if, in a word, I had, as certain persons 
 have known how, regulated my life, you would not receive 
 twenty thousand livres a year, but a r-imlred thousand, 
 and you would not b.long to the king but to me." 
 
 D'Artagnan colored slightly. There is in the manner in 
 which an eulogium is given, in the voice of the eulogizer, 
 in his affectionate tone, a poison so sweet that the strongest 
 mind is sometimes intoxicated by it. The surintendant 
 terminated his speech by opening a drawer, and taking 
 from it four rouleaus, which he placed before D'Artagnan. 
 The Gascon opened one. "Gold!" said he. 
 
 "It will be less burdensome, monsieur. 1 " 
 
 "But then, monsieur, these make twenty thousand livres." 
 
 "No doubt they do." 
 
 "But only five are due to me." 
 
 "I wish to spare you the trouble of coming four times to 
 my office." 
 
 "You overwhelm me, monsieur." 
 
 "I do only what I ought to d% Monsieur le Chevalier; 
 and I hope you will not ber.r me any malice on account of 
 the rude reception my brother gave you. He is of a sour, 
 capricious disposition." 
 
 "Monsieur," said D'Artagnan, "believe me, nothing 
 would grieve me more than an excuse from you." 
 
 "Therefore I will make no more, and will content myself 
 with asking you a fovor." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! 
 
 Fonquet drew from his finger a ring worth about a thou- 
 sand pistoles. "Monsieur," s::,id he, "this stone was given 
 me by a friend of my ehilJhood, by a man to whom you 
 have rendered a great service." 
 
414 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "A service — I?" said the musketeer; "I have rendered 
 a service to one of your friends?" 
 
 ''You cannot have forgotten it, monsieur, for it dates 
 this very day." 
 
 "And that friend's name was " 
 
 "Monsieur d'Eymeris." 
 
 "One of the condemned?" 
 
 "Yes, one of the victims. Well, Monsieur d'Artagnan, 
 in return for the service you have rendered him, I beg you 
 to accept this diamond. Do so for my sake." 
 
 "Monsieur, you " 
 
 "Accept it, I say. To-day is with me a day of mourning; 
 hereafter you will, perhaps, learn why; to-day I have lost 
 one friend; well, I will try to get another." 
 
 "But, Monsieur Fouquet " 
 
 "Adieu! Monsieur d'Artagnan, adieu!" cried Fouquet, 
 with much emotion*, "or, rather, au revoir." And the 
 minister quitted the cabinet, leaving in the hands of the 
 musketeer the ring and the twenty thousand livres. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said D'Artagnan, after a moment's dark re- 
 flection. "Do I understand what this means? Mordioux! 
 I can understand so far; he is a gallant man! I will go and 
 explain matters with Monsieur Colbert." And he went 
 out. 
 
 ■ 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 OF THE NOTABLE DIFFERENCE D'ARTAGNAN FINDS BETWEEN 
 MONSIEUR THE INTENDANT AND MONSIEUR THE SURIN- 
 TENDANT. 
 
 M. Colbert resided in Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, in 
 a house which had belonged to Beautru. The legs of 
 D'Artagnan cleared the distance in a short quarter of an 
 hour. When he arrived at the residence of the new favor- 
 ite, the court was full of archers and police people, who 
 came to congratulate him, or to excuse themselves, accord- 
 ing to whether he should choose to praise or blame. The 
 sentiment >f flattery is instinctive among people of adjacent 
 condition; they have the sense of it, as the wild animal has 
 that of hearing and smell. These people, or their leader, 
 had then understood that there was a pleasure to offer M. 
 Colbert in rendering him an account of the fashion in which 
 his name had been pronounced during the rash enterprise 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BR AOELONNE. 415 
 
 of the morning. D'Artagnan made his appearance just as 
 the chief of the watch was giving his report. D'Artagnan 
 stood close to the door, behind the archers. That officer 
 took Colbert on one side, in spite of his resistance and the 
 contraction of his great eyebrows. "In case," said he, 
 "you really desired, monsieur, that the people should do 
 justice on the two traitors, it would have been wise to warn 
 us of it; for, indeed, monsieur, in spite of our regret at 
 displeasing you, or thwarting your views, we had our orders 
 to execute." 
 
 ''Triple fool!" replied Colbert, furiously shaking his hair, 
 thick and black as a mane; "what are you telling me, 
 Chere? What! that I could have had an idea of a riot! 
 Are you mad or drunk?'" 
 
 "But, monsieur, they cried ' Vive Colbert!' " replied the 
 trembling watch. 
 
 "A handful of conspirators " 
 
 "No, no; a mass of people." 
 
 "Ah, indeed," said Colbert, expanding. "A mass of 
 people cried, ' Vive Colbert!' Are you certain of what you 
 say, monsieur?" 
 
 "We had nothing to do but to open our ears, or rather to 
 close them, so terrible were the cries." 
 
 "And this was from the people, real people?" 
 
 "Certainly, monsieur; only these real people beat us." 
 
 "Oh! very well," continued Colbert thoughtfully. 
 "Then you suppose it was the people alone who wished to 
 barn the condemned?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, monsieur." 
 
 "That is quite another thing. You strongly resisted, 
 then?" 
 
 "We had three men stifled, monsieur." 
 
 "But you killed nobody yourselves?" 
 
 "Monsieur, a few of the rioters were left upon the square, 
 and one among them was not a common man." 
 
 "Who was he?" 
 
 ''A certain Menneville, upon whom the police have a 
 long time had an eye." 
 
 "Menneville!" cried Colbert, "what, he who killed in 
 the Rue de la Hochette a worthy man who wanted a fat 
 fowl?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; the same." 
 
 "And did this Menneville aleo cry, ' Viae Colbert?' " 
 
 "Louder than all the rest; '.ike a madman." 
 
 The brow of Colbert became cloudy and wrinkled. A 
 
416 THE VICOMTE DK BRAGELONNE. 
 
 kind of ambitious glory which had lighted his face was ex- 
 tinguished, like the light of those glowworms which we 
 crush beneath the grass. "What then do you say, resumed 
 the deceived intendant, "that the initiative came from the 
 people? Menneville was my enemy; I would have had him 
 hung, and he knew it well. Menneville belonged to the 
 Abbe Fouquet — all the affair originated with Fouquet; does 
 not everybody know that the condemned were his friends 
 from childhood?" 
 
 "That is true," thought D'Artagnan, "and there are all 
 my doubts cleared up. I repeat it, Monsieur Fouquet may 
 be what they please, but he is a gentlemanly man." 
 
 "And," continued Colbert, "are you quite sure Menne- 
 ville is dead?" 
 
 D'Artagnan thought the time was come for him to make 
 his appearance. "Perfectly, monsieur," replied he, ad- 
 vancing suddenly. 
 
 "Oh! is that you, monsieur?" said Colbert. 
 
 "In person," replied the musketeer, with his deliberate 
 tone; "it appears that you had in Menneville a pretty little 
 enemy." 
 
 "It was not I, monsieur, who had an enemy," replied 
 Colbert; "it was the king." 
 
 "Double brute!" thought D'Artagnan, "to think to play 
 the great man and the hypocrite with me. Well," con- 
 tinued he to Colbert, "I am very happy to have rendered so 
 good a service to the king; will you take upon you to tell 
 his majesty, Monsieur l'lntendant?" 
 
 "What commission do you give me, and what do you 
 charge me to tell his majesty, monsieur? Be precise, if 
 you please," said Colbert, in a sharp voice, tuned before- 
 hand to hostility. 
 
 "I give you no commission," replied D'Artagnan, with 
 that calmness which never abandons the banterer; "I 
 thought it would be easy for you to announce to his majesty 
 that it was I who, being there by chance, did justice upon 
 Menneville, and restored things to order." 
 
 Colbert opened his eyes, and interrogated the chief of 
 the watch with a look: "Ah! it is very true," said the 
 latter, "that this gentleman saved us." 
 
 "What did you tell me, monsieur, that you are come to 
 relate me this?" said Colbert, with envy; "everything is 
 explained, and better for you than for any other." 
 
 "You are in error, Monsieur l'lntendant; I did not at all 
 come for the purpose of relating that to you- " 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELCNNE 417 
 
 "It »s an exploit, neverthe^sSo" 
 
 "Oh!" said the musketeer carelessly, "constant habit 
 Diu^ts the mind." 
 
 "To what do I owe the honor of your visit, then?" 
 
 ''Simply to this: the king ordered me to come to you." 
 
 "Ah!" said Colbert, recovering himself, because he saw 
 D'Artagnan draw a paper from his pocket; "it is to demand 
 some money of me?" 
 
 "Precisely, monsieur." 
 
 "Have the goodness to wait, if you please, monsieur, till 
 I have dispatched the report of the watch." 
 
 D'Artagnan turned round upon his heel insolently enough, 
 and finding himself face to face with Colbert, after his first 
 turn, he bowed to him as a harlequin would have done; 
 then, after a second evolution, he directed his steps toward 
 the door in quick time. Colbert was struck with this 
 pointed rudeness, to which he was not accustomed. In 
 general, men of the sword, when they came to his office, 
 had such a want of money, that though their feet had 
 taken root in the marble, they would not have lost their 
 patience. Was D'Artagnan going straight to the king? 
 Would he go and describe his bad reception, or recount his 
 exploit? This was a grave matter of consideration. At all 
 events, the moment was badly chosen to send D'Artagnan 
 away, whether he came from the king, or on his own 
 account. The musketeer had rendered too great a service, 
 and that too recently, for it to be already forgotten. 
 Therefore Colbert thought it would be better to shake off 
 his arrogance and call D'Artagnan back. "Ho! Monsieur 
 d'Artagnan," cried Colbert, "what! are you leaving me 
 thus?" 
 
 D'Artagnan turned round: "Why not?" said he quietly, 
 "we have no more to say to each other, have we?" 
 
 "You have at least money to take, as you have an order?" 
 
 "Who, I? Oh! not at all, my dear Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "But, monsieur, you have an order. And, in the same 
 manner as you give a sword-thrust, when you are required, 
 I, on my part, pay when an order is presented to me. 
 Present yours." 
 
 "It is useless, my dear Monsieur Colbert," said D'Artag- 
 nan, who inwardly enjoyed the confusion introduced int« 
 the ideas of Colbert; "this order is paid." 
 
 "Paid, by whom?" 
 
 "By Monsieur le Surintendant." 
 
 Colbert became pale. 
 
418 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''Explain yourself, then," said he, in a stifled voce; "i' 
 you are paid why do you show me that paper?" 
 
 ''In consequence of the word of order of which you spoke 
 to me so ingeniously just now, dear Monsieur Colbert; the 
 king told me to take a quarter of the pension he is pleased 
 to make me." 
 
 "Of me?" said Colbert. 
 
 "Not exactly. The king said to me: 'Go to Monsieur 
 Fouquet', the surintendant will, perhaps, have no money; 
 then you will go and draw it of Monsieur Colbert.' " 
 
 The countenance of M. Colbert brightened for a moment; 
 but it was with his unfortunate physiognomy as with a 
 stormy sky, sometimes radiant, sometimes dark as night, 
 according as the lightning gleams or the cloud passes 
 by. 
 
 "Eh! and was there any money in the surintendant's 
 coffers?" asked he. 
 
 "Why, yes; he could not be badly off for money," replied 
 D'Artagnan, "it may be believed since Monsieur Fouquet 
 instead of paying me a quarter of five thousand livres " 
 
 "A quarter of five thousand livres!" cried Colbert, struck 
 as Fouquet had been, with the largeness of the sum des- 
 tined to pay a soldier; "why, that would be a pensiou of 
 twenty thousand livres!" 
 
 "Exactly, Monsieur Colbert. Peste! you reckon like old 
 Pythagoras; yes, twenty thousand livres." 
 
 "Ten times the appointment of an intendant of the 
 finances. I beg to offer you my compliments." said Col- 
 bert, with a venomous smile. 
 
 "Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "the king apologized for giving 
 me so little; but he promised to make it more hereafter, 
 when he should be rich; but I must be gone, having much 
 to do " 
 
 "So, then, notwithstanding the expectation of the king ; 
 the surintendant paid you, did he?" 
 
 "In the same manner as, in opposition to the king's ex- 
 pectation, you refused to pay me." 
 
 "I did not refuse, monsieur, I only begged you to wait. 
 And you say that Monsieur Fouquet paid you your five 
 thousand livres?" 
 
 "Yes, as you might have done; but he did still bettei 
 than that, Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "And what did he do?" 
 
 "He politely counted me down the totality of the sum, 
 saying, that for the king, his coilors were always lull." 
 
THE VICOMTE DP! BRA.GELONNE. 419 
 
 "The totality of the sum! Monsieur Fouquet has given 
 you twenty thousand livres instead of five thousand ?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," 
 
 ''And what for?" 
 
 "In order to spare me three visits to the money chest of 
 the surintendant, so that I have the twenty thousand livres 
 in my pocket in good new coin. You see, then, that I am 
 able to go away without standing in need of you, having 
 come here only for form's sake." And D'Artagnan slapped 
 his hand upon his pocket, with a laugh which disclosed to 
 Colbert thirty-two magnificent teeth, as white as teeth of 
 twenty-five years old, and which seemed to say in their 
 language: "Serve up to us thirty-two little Colberts, and we 
 will grind them willingly." The serpent is as brave as 
 the lion, the hawk as courageous as the eagle, that cannot 
 be contested. It can only be said of animals that are de- 
 cidedly cowardly, and are so called, that they will not be 
 brave when they have to defend themselves. Colbert was 
 not frightened at the thirty-two teeth of D'Artagnan. He 
 recovered, and suddenly, "Monsieur," said he, "Monsieur 
 le Surintendant has done what he had no right to do." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" replied D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I mean that your note — will you let me see your note, 
 if you please?" 
 
 "Very willingly; here it is." 
 
 Colbert seized the paper with an eagerness which the 
 musketeer did not remark without uneasiness, and particu- 
 larly without a certain degree of regret at having trusted 
 him with it. "Well, monsieur, the royal order says this'. 
 'At sight, I command that there be paid to Monsieur d'Ar- 
 tagnan the sum of five thousand livres, forming a quarter 
 of the pension I have made him.' " 
 
 "So, in fact, it is written," said D'Artagnan, affecting 
 salmness. 
 
 "Very well; the king only owed you five thousand livres; 
 why has more been given to you?" 
 
 "Because there was more; and Monsieur Fouquet was 
 willing to give me more; that does not concern anybody." 
 
 "It is natural," said Colbert, with a proud ease, "that 
 you should be ignorant of the usages of comptabilite; but, 
 monsieur, when you have a thousand livres to pay, what do 
 you do." 
 
 "I never have a thousand livres to pay," replied D'Ar- 
 tagnan. 
 
 "Once more," said Colbert, irritated; "once more, if you 
 had any sum to pay, would you uotjpay what you ought?" 
 
420 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. * 
 
 "That only proves one thing," said D'Artagnan; "and 
 that is, that you have your particular customs in compta- 
 lilite and Monsieur Fouquet has his own." 
 
 "Mine, monsieur, are the correct ones." 
 
 "I do not say they are not." 
 
 "And you have received what was not due to you." 
 
 The eye of D'Artagnan flashed. "What is not due to me 
 yet, you meant to say, Monsieur Colbert; for if I had re- 
 ceived what was not due to me at all, I should have com- 
 mitted a theft." 
 
 Colbert made no reply to this subtlety. "You then owe 
 fifteen thousand livres to the public chest," cried he, car- 
 ried away by his jealous ardor. 
 
 "Then, you must give me credit for them," replied 
 D'Artagnan, with his imperceptible irony. 
 
 "Not at all, monsieur." 
 
 "Well! what will you do, then? You will not take my 
 rouleaus from me, will you?" 
 
 "You must return them to my chest." 
 
 "I! Oh! Monsieur Colbert, don't reckon upon that." 
 
 "The king wants his money, monsieur." 
 
 "And I, monsieur, I want the king's money." 
 
 "That may be; but you must return this." 
 
 "Not a sou. I have always understood, that in matters 
 of comptabilite, as you call it, a good cashier never gives 
 back or takes back." 
 
 "Then, monsieur, we shall see what the king will say 
 about it. I will show him this note, which proves that 
 Monsieur Fouquet not only pays what he does not owe, but 
 that he does not even take care of the receipts for what he 
 has paid." 
 
 "Ah! now I understand why you have taken that paper, 
 Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 Colbert did not perceive all that there was of a threaten- 
 ing character in his name pronounced in a certain manner. 
 "You shall see hereafter what use I will make of it," said 
 he, holding up the paper in his fingers. 
 
 "Oh!" said D'Artagnan, snatching the paper from him 
 with a rapid movement; "I understand it perfectly well. 
 Monsieur Colbert; I have no occasion to wait for that." 
 And he crumpled up in his pocket the paper he had so 
 cleverly seized. 
 
 "Monsieur, monsieur!" cried Colbert, "that is violence!" 
 
 "Nonsense! you must not be particular about the man* 
 ners of a soldier!" replied D'Artagnan. "I kiss your 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONSTE. 421 
 
 hands, my dear Monsieur Colbert.' 5 And he went out, 
 laughing in the face of the future minister. 
 
 "That man, now," muttered he, "was about to adore 
 me; it is a great pity I was obliged to cut company so soon." 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF THE HEART AND MIND. 
 
 ' For a man who has seen so many much more dangerous 
 ones, the position of D'Artagnan with respect to M. Col- 
 bert was only comic. D'Artagnan, therefore, did not deny 
 himself the satisfaction of laughing at the expense of M. 
 PIntendant from the Rue des Petits Champs to the Rue des 
 Lombards. It was a great while since D'Artagnan had 
 laughed so long together. He was still laughing when 
 Planchet appeared, laughing likewise, at the door of his 
 house; for Planchet, since the return of his patron, since 
 the entrance of the English guineas, passed the greater part 
 of his life in doing what D'Artagnan had only done from 
 Rue Neuve des Petits Champs to the Rue des Lombards. 
 
 "You are come, then, my dear master?" said Planchet. 
 
 "No, my friend," replied the musketeer; "I am going, 
 and that quickly. I will sup with you, go to bed, sleep five 
 hours, and at break of day leap into my saddle. Has my 
 horse had an extra feed?" 
 
 "Eh! my dear master," replied Planchet, "you know 
 very well that your horse is the jewel of the family; that 
 my lads are caressing it all day, and cramming it with 
 sugar, nuts, and biscuits. You ask me if he has had an 
 extra feed of oats; but you should ask if he has not had 
 enough to burst him." 
 
 "Very well, Planchet, that is all right. Now, then, I 
 pass to what concerns me — my supper?" 
 
 "Ready. A smoking roast joint, white wine, crayfish, 
 and fresh -gathered cherries. All ready, my master." 
 
 "You are a capital fellow, Planchet; come on, then, let 
 us sup, and I will go to bed." 
 
 During supper D'Artagnan observed that Planchet kept 
 rubbing his forehead, as if to facilitate the issue of some 
 idea closely pent within his brain. He looked with an air 
 of kindness at this worthy companion of his former crosses, 
 and, clinking glass against glass, "Come, Planchet," said 
 
422 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 he, "let us see what it is that gives you so much trouble tc 
 bring it forth, Mordiouz! speak freely and quickly." 
 
 "Well, this is it," replied Planchet; "you appear to be 
 going on some expedition or other." 
 
 "I don't say that I am not." 
 
 "Then you have some new idea?" 
 
 "That is possible, too, Planchet." 
 
 "Then there will be a fresh capital to be ventured? 1 
 will lay down fifty thousand livres upon the idea you are 
 about to carry out.'* And so saying, Planchet rubbed his 
 hands one against the other with a rapidity evincing great 
 delight. 
 
 "Planchet," said D'Artagnan, "there is but one misfor- 
 tune in it." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "That the idea is not mine. I can risk nothing upon it." 
 
 These words drew a deep sigh from the heart of Planchet. 
 That Avarice is an ardent counselor; she carries away her 
 man, as Satan did Jesus, to the mountain, and when once 
 she has shown to an unfortunate all the kingdoms of the 
 earth, she is able to repose herself, knowing full well that 
 she has left her companion, Envy, to gnaw his heart. 
 Planchet had tasted of riches easily acquired, and was 
 never afterward likely to stop in his desires; but as he had 
 a good heart in spite of his covetousness, as he adored 
 D'Artagnan, he could not refrain from making him a thou- 
 sand recommendations, each more affectionate than the 
 others. He would not have been sorry, nevertheless, to 
 have caught a little hint of the secret his master concealed 
 so well. Tricks, turns, counsels, and traps were all useless, 
 D'Artagnan let nothing confidential escape him. The 
 evening passed thus. After supper the portmanteau occu- 
 pied D'Artagnan, he took a turn to the stable, patted his 
 horse, and examined his shoes and legs; then, having 
 counted over his money, he went to bed, sleeping as if only 
 twenty, because he had neither inquietude nor remorse; he 
 closed his eyes five minutes after he had blown out his 
 lamp. Many events might, however, have kept him awake. 
 Thought boiled in his brain, conjectures abounded, and 
 D'Artagnan was a great drawer of horoscopes; but, with 
 that imperturbable phlegm which does more than genius 
 for the fortune and happiness of men of action, he put off 
 reflection till the next day, for fear, he said, not to be fresh 
 when he wanted to be so. 
 
 The day came. The Kiie des Lombards had its share of 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BEAGELONNE. 423 
 
 (^he caresses of Aurora with the rosy fingers, and D'Artag- 
 oan arose like Aurora. He did not awaken anybody; he 
 placed his portmanteau under his arm, descended the stairs 
 without making one of them creak, and without disturb- 
 ing one of the sonorous snorings storied from the garret to 
 the cellar, then, having saddled his horse, shut the stable 
 and house doors, he set off, at a foot pace, on his expedi- 
 tion to Bretagne. He had done quite right not to trouble 
 himself with all the political and diplomatic affairs which 
 solicited his attention; for in the morning, in freshness and 
 mild twilight, his ideas developed themselves in purity and 
 abundance. In the first place, he passed before the house 
 cf Fouquet, and threw into a large gaping box the fortunate 
 order which, the evening before, he had so much trouble to 
 recover from the hooked fingers of the intendant. Placed 
 in an envelope, and addressed to Fouquet, it had not even 
 been divined by Planchet, who in divination was equal to 
 Calchas or the Pythian Apollo. D'Artagnan thus sent back 
 the order to Fouquet without compromising himself, and 
 without having thenceforward any reproaches to make him- 
 self. When he had effected this proper restitution, "Now," 
 said he to himself, "let us inhale much maternal air, much 
 freedom from cares, much health: let us allow the horse 
 Zephyr, whose flanks puff as if he had to respire an atmos- 
 phere, breathe, and let us be very ingenious in our little 
 calculations. It is time/' said D'Artagnan, "to form a 
 plan of the campaign, and, according to the method of 
 Monsieur Turenne, who has a large head full of all sorts of 
 good counsels, before the plan of the campaign, it is advis- 
 able to draw a striking portrait of the generals to whom we 
 are opposed. In the first place, Monsieur Fouquet presents 
 himself. What is Monsieur Fouquet? Monsieur Fouquet," 
 replied D'Artagnan to himself, "is a handsome man very 
 winch beloved by the women, a generous man very much 
 beloved by the poets; a man of wit, much execrated by 
 pretenders. Well, now I am neither woman, poet, nor pre- 
 tender; I neither love nor hate Monsieur le Surintendant. 
 I find myself, therefore, in the same position in which 
 Monsieur de Turenne found himself when opposed to the 
 Prince de Conde at Jargeau, Gien, and the Faubourg St. 
 Antoine. He did not execrate Monsieur le Prince^ it is 
 true, but he obeyed the king. Monsieur le Prince is an 
 agreeable man, but the king is king. Turenne heaved a 
 deep sigh, called Condu 'My cousin,' and swept away his 
 army. Now, what does the king wish? That does not 
 
424 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOSTKE. 
 
 concern me. Now, what does Monsieur Colbert wish? 
 Oh, that's another thing. Monsieur Colbert wishes all that 
 Monsieur Fouquet does not wish. Then, what does Mon- 
 sieur Fouquet wish? Oh, that is serious; Monsieur Fou- 
 quet wishes precisely for all which the king wishes." 
 
 This monologue ended, D'Artagnan began to laugh, while 
 making his whip whistle in the air. He was already on the 
 highroad, frightening the birds in the hedges, listening to 
 the livres chinking and dancing in his leather pocket at 
 every step; and, let us confess it, every time that D'Artag- 
 nan found himself in such conditions, tenderness was not 
 his dominant vice. "Come," said he, "I cannot think the 
 expedition a very dangerous one; and it will fall out with 
 my voyage as with that piece Monsieur Monk took me to 
 see in London, which was called I think, 'Much Ado About 
 Nothing.' " 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 It was, perhaps, the fiftieth time since the day on which 
 we opened this history, that this man, with a heart of bronze 
 and muscles of steel, had left house and friends, every- 
 thing, in short, to go in search of fortune and death. The 
 one — that is to say, death — had constantly retreated before 
 him, as if afraid of him; the other — that is to say, fortune 
 — for a month past only had really made an alliance with 
 him. Although he was not a great philosopher, after the 
 fashion of either Epicurus or Socrates, he was a powerful 
 spirit, having knowledge of life, and endowed with thought. 
 No one is as brave, as adventurous, or as skillful as D'Ar- 
 tagnan, without being at the same time inclined to be a 
 dreamer. He had picked up, here and there, some scraps 
 of M. de la Rochefoucauld, worthy of being translated into 
 Latin by M. de Port Royal, and he had made a collection, 
 en passant, in the society of Athos and Aramis, of many 
 morsels of Seneca and Cicero, translated by them, and 
 applied to the uses of common life. That contempt of 
 riches which our Gascon had observed as an article of faith 
 during the thirty-rive first years of his life, had for a long 
 time been considered by him as the first article of the code 
 of bravery. "Article first," said he, "A man is brave be- 
 cause he has nothing. A man has nothing because he 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 425 
 
 despises riches." Therefore, with these principles, which, 
 as we have said, had regulated the thirty-five first years of 
 his life, D'Artagnan was no sooner possessed of riches than 
 he felt it necessary to ask himself, if, in spite of his riches, 
 he were still brave. To this, for any other but D'Artag- 
 nan, the events of the Place de Greve might have served as 
 a reply. Many consciences would have been satisfied with 
 them, but D'Artagnan was brave enough to ask himself 
 sincerely and conscientiously if he were brave. Therefore 
 to this: 
 
 "But it appears to me that I drew promptly enough, and 
 cut and thrust pretty freely on the Place de Greve, to be 
 satisfied of my bravery," D'Artagnan had himself replied. 
 "Gently, captain, that is not an answer. I was brave that 
 day, because they were burning my house, and there are a 
 hundred, and even a thousand, to speak against one, that if 
 those gentlemen of the riots had not formed that unlucky 
 idea, their plan of attack would have succeeded, or, at 
 least, it would not have been I who would have opposed 
 myself to it. Now, what will be brought against me? I 
 have no house to be burned in Bretagne; I have no treasure 
 there that can be taken from me. No; but I have my skin; 
 that precious skin of Monsieur d'Artagnan, which to him is 
 worth more than all the houses and all the treasures of the 
 world. That skin to which I cling above everything, be- 
 cause it is, everything considered, the binding of a body 
 which incloses a heart very warm and ready to fight, and, 
 consequently, to live. Then, I do desire to live; and, in 
 reality, I live much better, more completely, since I have 
 become richo Who the devil ever said that money spoiled 
 life! Upon my soul, it is no such thing; on the contrary, it 
 seems as if I absorbed a double quantity of air and sun. 
 Mordioux! what will it be then if I double that fortune; 
 and if, instead of the switch I now hold in my hand, I 
 should ever carry the baton of a marechal? Then, I really 
 don't know if there will be, from that moment, enough of 
 air and sun for me. In fact, this is not a dream. Who 
 the devil would oppose it, if the king made me a marechal, 
 as his father, King Louis XIII., made a duke and constable 
 of Albert de Luynes? Am I not as brave, and much more 
 intelligent, than that imbecile De Vitry? Ah! that's 
 exactly what will prevent my advancement; I have too 
 much wit. Luckily, if there is any justice in this world, 
 fortune owes me many compensations. She owes me, cer- 
 tainly, a recompense fer all I did for Anne of Austria, and 
 
426 THE YTf'OMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 an indemnification for all she has not done for me. Then, 
 at the present, I am very well with a king, and with a king 
 who has the appearance of determining to reign. May God 
 keep him in that illustrious road! For, if he is resolved to 
 reign, lie will want me, and if he wants me, he will give me 
 what he has promised me — warmth and light; so that I 
 march, comparatively, now, as I marched formerly — from 
 nothing to everything. Only the nothing of to-day is the 
 all of former days; there has only this little change taken 
 place in my life. And now let us see, let us take the part 
 of the heart, as I just now was speaking of it. But, in 
 truth, I only spoke of it from memory." And the Gascon 
 applied his hand to his breast, as if he were actually seek- 
 ing the place where his heart was. 
 
 "Ah! wretch!" murmured he, smiling with bitterness. 
 "Ah! poor mortal species! You hoped, for an instant, 
 that you had not a heart, and now you find you have one — 
 bad courtier as thou art — and even one of the most sedi- 
 tious. You have a heart which speaks to you in favor of 
 Monsieur Fouquet. 
 
 "And what is Monsieur Fouquet when the king is in 
 question? A conspirator, a real conspirator, who did not 
 even give himself the trouble to conceal his being a con- 
 spirator; therefore,what a weapon would you not have against 
 him, if his good grace and his intelligence had not made a 
 scabbard for that weapon. An armed revolt — for, in fact, 
 Monsieur Fouquet has been guilty of an armed revolt. 
 Thus, while the king vaguely suspects Monsieur Fouquet 
 of rebellion, I know it — I could prove that Monsieur Fou- 
 quet has caused the shedding of the blood of his majesty's 
 subjects. Xow, then, let us see. Knowing all that, and 
 holding my tongue, what further would this heart wish in 
 return for a kind action of Monsieur Fouquet, for an ad- 
 vance of fifteen thousand livres, for a diamond worth a 
 thousand pistoles, for a smile in which there was as much 
 bitterness as kindness? I save his life. 
 
 "Now, then, I hope," continued the musketeer, "that 
 this imbecile of a heart is going to preserve silence, and so 
 be fairly quits with Monsieur Fouquet. Now, then, the 
 king becomes my sun, and as my heart is quits with M. 
 Fouquet, let him beware who places himself between me 
 and my sun! Forward, for His Majesty Louis XIV.! For- 
 ward!" 
 
 These reflections were the only impediments which were 
 able to retard the progress of U'Artagnan. These reflec- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 42? 
 
 fcions onca made, he increased the speed of his horse. But, 
 however perfect his horse Zephyr might be, it could not 
 hold out at such a pace forever. The day after his depar- 
 ture from Paris, he was left at Chartres, at the house of an 
 old friend D'Artagnan had met with in a hotelier of that 
 city. From that moment the musketeer traveled on post- 
 horsas. Thanks to this mode of locomotion, he traversed 
 the space which separates Chartres from Chateaubriand. 
 In the last of these two cities, far enough from the coast to 
 prevent any one guessing that D'Artagnan wished to reach 
 the sea — far enough from Paris to prevent all suspicion of 
 his being a messenger from Louis XIV., whom D'Artagnan 
 had called his sun, without suspecting that he was only at 
 present a rather poor star in the heaven of royalty, would, 
 jne day, make that star his emblem, the messenger of 
 Louis XIV., we say, quitted the post and purchased a bidet 
 of the meanest appearance, one of those animals which an 
 officer of cavalry would never choose, for fear of being dis- 
 graced. Excepting the color, this new acquisition recalled 
 to the mind of D'Artagnan the famous orange-colored 
 horse with which, or rather, upon which, he had made his 
 first appearance in the world. Truth to say, from the 
 moment he crossed this new steed, it was no longer D'Ar- 
 tagnan who was traveling, it was a good man clothed in an 
 iron-gray justau-corps, brown haut-de-chausses, holding the 
 medium between a priest and a layman; that which brought 
 him nearest to the churchman was that D'Artagnan had 
 placed on his head a calotte of threadbare velvet, and over 
 the calotte, a large black hat; no more sword; a stick, hung 
 by a cord to his wrist, but to which, he promised himself, 
 as an unexpected auxiliary, to join, upon occasion, a good 
 dagger, ten inches long, concealed under his cloak. The 
 bidet purchased at Chateaubriand completed the metamor- 
 phosis; it was called, or, rather, D'Artagnan called it, 
 Furet (ferret). 
 
 "If I have changed Zephyr into Furet," said D^Artag- 
 nan, "I must make some diminutive or other of my own 
 name. So, instead of D'Artagnan, I will be Agnan, short; 
 that is a concession which I naturally owe to my gray coat, 
 my round hat, and my rusty calotte." 
 
 M. d'Artagnan traveled, then, pretty easily upon Furet, 
 who ambled like a true butter-woman's pad, and who, with 
 his amble, managed cheerfully about twelve leagues a day 
 upon four spiudle-shanks of which the practiced eye of 
 jD'Artagnan had appreciated the strength and safety be- 
 
428 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 neath the thick mass of huir which covered them. Jogging 
 along, the traveler took notes, studied the country, which 
 he travered reserved and silent, ever seeking the pretext 
 the most plausible to go to Belle-Isle-eu-Mer, and to see 
 everything without arousing suspicion. In this manner 
 he was enabled to convince himself of the importance the 
 event assumed in proportion as he drew near to it. In this 
 remote country, in this ancient Duchy of Bretagne, which 
 was not France at that period, and is not even so now, the 
 people knew nothing of the King of France. They not 
 only did not know him, but were unwilling to know him 
 One fact — a single one — floated visibly for them upon the 
 political current. Their ancient dukes no longer governed 
 them; but it was void — nothing more. In the place of the 
 sovereign duke, the seigneurs of parishes reigned without 
 control; and, above these seigneurs, God, who has never been 
 forgotten in Bretagne. Among these suzerains of chateaus 
 and belfries, the most powerful, the most rich and the most 
 popular, was M. Fouquet, seigneur of Belle-Isle. Even in 
 the country, even within sight of that mysterious isle, 
 legends and traditions consecrate its wonders. Every one 
 did not penetrate into it; the isle, of an extent of six 
 leagues in length, and six in breadth, was a seignorial prop- 
 erty, which the people had for a long time respected, cov- 
 ered as it was with the name of Eetz, so much redoubted in 
 the country. Shortly after the erection of this seigneurie 
 into a marquisate, Belle-Isle passed to M. Fouquet. The 
 celebrity of the isle did not date from yesterday; its name, 
 or, rather, its qualifications, is traced back to the remotest 
 antiquity; the ancients called it Kalonese, from two Greek 
 words signifying beautiful isle. Thus, at a distance of 
 eighteen hundred years, it had borne, in another idiom the 
 same name it still bears. There was, then, something in 
 itself in this property of M. Fouquet's, besides its position 
 of six leagues off the coast of France; a position which 
 makes it a sovereign in its maritime solitude, like a majestic 
 ship which should disdain roads, and would proudly cast 
 its anchors in mid-ocean. 
 
 D'Artagnan learned all this without appearing the least 
 in the world astonished. He also learned that the best way 
 to get intelligence was to go to La Roche Bernard, a tolera- 
 bly important city at the mouth of the Vilaine. Perhaps 
 there he could embark; if not, c.ossing the salt marshes, 
 he would repair to Guerande en Croisic, to wait for an op- 
 portunity to cross over to Belle-Isle. He had discovered, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 42$ 
 
 besides, since his departure from Chateau briaud, that noth- 
 ing would be impossible for Furet under the impulsion of 
 M. Agnan, and nothing to M. Agnan upon the initiative of 
 Furet. He prepared, then, to sup off a teal and a tourteau 
 in a hotel of La Roche Bernard, and ordered to be brought 
 from the cellar, to wash down these two Breton dishes, 
 some cider, which, the moment it touched his lips, he per- 
 ceived to be more Breton still. 
 
 CHAPTER. LXVI1 
 
 HOW D'ARTAGNAN BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH A POET WHC 
 HAD TURNED PRINTER FOR THE SAKE OF PRINTING 
 HIS OWN VERSES. 
 
 Before taking his place at table, D'Artagnan acquired, 
 as was his custom, all the information he could; but it is an 
 axiom of curiosity that every man who wishes to question 
 well and fruitfully ought in the first place to lay himself 
 open to questions. D'Artagnan sought, then, with his 
 usual skill, a useful questioner in the hostelry of La Roche 
 Bernard. At the moment, there were in the house, in the 
 first story, two travelers occupied also in preparations for 
 supper, or with their supper itself. D'Artagnan had seen 
 their nags in the stable and their equipages in the salle. 
 One traveled with a lackey, as a sort of personage; two 
 Perche mares, sleek, sound beasts, were their means of loco- 
 motion. The other, rather a little fellow, a traveler of 
 meager appearance, wearing a dusty surtout, dirty linen, 
 boots more worn by the pavement thau the stirrup, had 
 come from Nantes with a cart drawn by a horse so like 
 Furet in color that D'Artagnan might have gone a hundred 
 miles without finding a better match. This cart contained 
 divers large packets wrapped up in pieces of old stuff. 
 
 ''That traveler there," said D'Artagnan to himself, "is 
 the man for my money. He will do, he suits me; I ought 
 to do for and suit him. Monsieur Agnan, with the gray 
 doublet and the rusty calotte is not unworthy of supping 
 with the gentleman of the old boots and the old horse." 
 This being said, D'Artagnan called the host and desired 
 him to send his teal, tourteau, and cider up to the chamber 
 of the gentleman of modest exterior. He himself climbed, 
 a plate in his hand, the wooden staircase which led tc the 
 chamber^ and began to knock at the door. 
 
430 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Come in!" said the unknown. D'Artagnan entered, 
 with a simper on his lips, his plate under his arm. his hat 
 in one hand, his candle in the other. 
 
 "Excuse me, monsieur," said he, "I am, as you are, a 
 traveler; I know no one in the hotel, and I have the bad 
 habit of losing my spirits when I eat alone, so that my re- 
 past appears a bad one to me, and does not nourish me. 
 Your face, which I saw just now, when you came down to 
 have some oysters opened, your face pleased me much. Be- 
 sides, I have observed you have a horse just like mine, and 
 that the host, no doubt on account of that resemblance, has 
 placed them side by side in the stable, Avhere they appear 
 to agree amazingly well together. I therefore, monsieur, 
 cannot see why the masters should be separated when the 
 horses are united. In consequence, I am come to request 
 the pleasure of being admitted to your table. My name is 
 Agnan, at your service, monsieur, the unworthy steward of 
 a rich seigneur, who wishes to purchase some salt mines in 
 this country, and sends me to examine his future acquisi- 
 tions. In truth, monsieur, I should be well pleased if my 
 countenance were as agreeable to you as yours is to me; for, 
 upon my honor, I am quite yours." 
 
 The stranger, whom D'Artagnan saw for the first time — 
 for before he had only caught a glimpse of him — the 
 stranger had black and brilliant eyes, a yellow complexion, 
 a brow a little wrinkled by the weight of fifty years, bon- 
 homie in his features collectively, but a little cunning in 
 his look. 
 
 "One would say," thought D'Artagnan, "that this merry 
 fellow has never exercised more than the upper part of his 
 head, his eyes, and his brain. He must be a man of science; 
 his mouth, nose, and chin signify absolutely nothing." 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the latter, with whose mind and 
 person we have been making so free, "you do me much 
 honor; not that I am ever ennuye, for I have," added he, 
 smiling, "a company which amuses me always; but never 
 mind that, I am very happy to receive you." But when 
 saying this, the man with the worn boots cast an uneasy 
 look at his table, from which the oysters had disappeared, 
 and upon which there was nothing left but a morsel of salt 
 bacon. 
 
 "Monsieur," D'Artagnan hastened to say, "the host is 
 bringing me up a pretty piece of roasted poultry and a 
 superb tourteau." D'Artagnan had read in the look of his 
 companion, however rapid it had been, the fear of an attack 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE, 43? 
 
 by a parasite; he divined justly. At this opening, the 
 features of the man of modest exterior relaxed; and, as if 
 he had watched the moment for his entrance, as D'Artagnan 
 spoke, the host appeared, bearing the announced dishes. 
 The tourteau and the teal were added to the morsel of 
 broiled bacon; D'Artagnan and his guest bowed, sat down 
 opposite to each other, and, like two brothers, shared the 
 Dacon and the other dishes. 
 
 "Monsieur," said D'Artagnan, "you must confess that 
 association is a wonderful thing." 
 
 "How so?" replied the stranger, with his mouth full, 
 
 "Well, I will tell you," replied D'Artagnan. 
 
 The stranger gave a short truce to the movement of his 
 'aws, in order to hear the better. 
 
 "In the first place," continued D'Artagnan, "instead of 
 one candle, which each of us had, we have two." 
 
 "That is true!" said the stranger, struck with the ex- 
 treme justness of the observation. 
 
 "Then I see that you eat my tourteau in preference, 
 while I, in preference, eat your bacon." 
 
 "That is true again." 
 
 "And then, in addition to being better lighted and eat- 
 ing what we prefer, I place the pleasure of your company." 
 
 "Truly, monsieur, you are very jovial," said the un- 
 known cheerfully. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur; jovial, as all people are who carry noth- 
 ing in their heads. Oh! I can see it is quite another sort of 
 thing with you," continued D'Artagnan; "I can read in 
 your eyes all sorts of genius." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur!" 
 
 "Come, confess one thing." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 'That you are a learned man." 
 
 "Ma foi ! monsieur-" 
 
 "Hevn?" 
 
 "Almost." 
 
 "Come, then!" 
 
 "I am an author." 
 
 "There!" cried D'Artagnan, clapping his hands, "I knew 
 1 could not be deceived! It is a miracle!" 
 
 "Monsieur " 
 
 "What! shall I have the honor of passing the evening in 
 the society of an author, of a celebrated author, perhaps?" 
 
 "Oh!" said the unknown, blushing, "celebrated, mon- 
 sieur, celebrated is not the word." 
 
432 THE YICOMTE frE BKA (VELO-N^ E. 
 
 "Modest!" cried DArtagnan, transported, "he if 
 modest!" Then, turning toward the stranger, with a 
 character of blunt bonhomie: "But tell me at least the 
 name of your works, monsieur; for you will please observe 
 you have not told me yours, and I have been iorcad to 
 divine your genius." 
 
 "My name is Jupenet, monsieur," said the author. 
 
 "A fine name! a fine name! upon my honor; and I do 
 not know why — pardon me the mistake, if it be one— but 
 surely I have heard that name somewhere." 
 
 "I have made verses," said the poet modestly. 
 
 "Ah! that is it, then; I have heard them read." 
 
 "A tragedy." 
 
 "I must have seen it played." 
 
 The poet blushed again, and said: "I do not think that 
 can be the case, for my verses have not been printed." 
 
 "Well, then, it must have been the tragedy which in- 
 formed me of your name." 
 
 "You are again mistaken, for MM. the comedians of the 
 Hotel de Bourgogne would have nothing to do with it," 
 said the poet, with the smile of which certain sorts of pride 
 alone know the secret. D'Artagnan bit his lips. "Thus, 
 then, you see, monsieur," continued the poet, "you are in 
 error on my account, and that not being at all known to 
 you, you have never heard speak of me." 
 
 "And that confounds me. That name, Jupenet, appears 
 to" me, nevertheless, a fine name, and quite as worthy of 
 being known as those of MM. Corneille, or Rotrou, or 
 Gamier. I hope, monsieur, you will have the goodness to 
 repeat to me a part of your tragedy presently, by way of 
 dessert, for instance. That will be sugared roast meat, 
 mordioiix! Ah! pardon me, monsieur, that was a little 
 oath which escaped me, because it is a habit with my lord 
 and master. I sometimes allow myself to usurp that little 
 oath, as it seems in good taste. I take this liberty only in 
 his absence, please to observe, for you may understand that 
 in his presence — but, in truth " 
 
 "Monsieur, this cider is abominable; do you not think 
 so? And, besides, the pot is of such an irregular shape it 
 will not stand on the table." 
 
 "Suppose we were to make it level?" 
 
 "To be sure; but with what?" 
 
 "With this knife." 
 
 "And the teal, with what shall we cut that up? Do you 
 not, by chance, mean to touch the teal?" 
 
THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 433 
 
 •'Certainly," 
 
 "Well, then " 
 
 "Wait." 
 
 And the poet rummaged in his pocket, and drew out a 
 piece of brass, oblong, quadrangular, about a line in thick- 
 ness, and an inch and a half in length. But scarcely had 
 this little piece of brass seen the light, than the poet ap- 
 peared to have committed an imprudence, and made a move- 
 ment to put it back again in his pocket. D'Artagnan per- 
 ceived this, for he was a man nothing escaped. He 
 stretched forth his hand toward the piece of brass: 
 "Humph! that which you hold in your hand is pretty; will 
 you allow me to look at it?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the poet, who appeared to have yielded 
 too soon to a first impulse. "Certainly, you may look at it; 
 but it will be in vain for you to look at it," added he, with 
 a satisfied air; "if I were not to tell you the use of that, 
 you would never guess it." 
 
 D'Artagnan had seized as an avowal the hesitation of the 
 poet, and his eagerness to conceal the piece of brass which 
 a first movement had induced him to take out of his pocket. 
 His attention, therefore, once awakened on this point, he 
 surrounded himself with a circumspection which gave him 
 a superiority upon all occasions. Besides, whatever M. 
 Jupenet might say about it, by the simple inspection of the 
 object, he had perfectly known what it was. It was a 
 character in printing. 
 
 "Can you guess now what this is?" continued the poet. 
 
 "No," said D'Artagnan, "no, ma foi !" 
 
 "Well, monsieur," said M. Jupenet, "this little piece of 
 brass is- a printing letter." 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 "A capital." 
 
 "Stop, stop, stop," said D'Artagnan, opening his eyes 
 very innocently. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, a capital; the first letter of my name." 
 
 "And this is a letter, is it?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Well, I will confess one thing to you." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "No, I will not. I was going to say something verj 
 stupid." 
 
 "No, no," said Master Jupenet, with a patronizing air. 
 
 "Well, then, I cannot comprehend, if that is a letter, 
 how you cau make a word." 
 
434 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "A word?" 
 
 "Yes, a printed word." 
 
 "Oh, that's very easy." 
 
 "Let me see." 
 
 "Does it interest you?" 
 
 "Enormously." 
 
 "Well, I will explain the thing to you. Attend." 
 
 "I am attending." 
 
 "That is it." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 "Look attentively." 
 
 "I am looking." D'Artagnan, in fact, appeared absorbed 
 in his observations. Jupenet drew from his pocket seven or 
 eight other pieces of brass, but smaller than the first. 
 
 "Ah, ah," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "You have, then, a whole printing office in your pocket. 
 Peste! that is curious indeed." 
 
 "Is it not?" 
 
 "Good God, what a number of things we learn by 
 traveling!" 
 
 "To your health " said Jupenet, quite enchanted. 
 
 "To yours, mordioux! to yours. But — an instant — not 
 in this cider. It is an abominable drink, unworthy of a 
 man who quenches his thirst at the Hippocrene fountain — 
 is not it so you call your fountains, you poets?" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, our fountain is so called. That comes 
 from two Greek words — hippos, which means a horse, 
 and " 
 
 "Monsieur," interrupted D'Artagnan, "you shall drink 
 of a liquor which comes from one single French word, and 
 is none the worse for that — from the word grape; this cider 
 gives me the heartburn. Allow me to inquire of your host 
 if there is not a good bottle of Beangency, or of the Ceran 
 growth, at the back of the large bins of his cellar." 
 
 The host, being called, immediately attended. 
 
 "Monsieur," interrupted the poet, "take care; we shall 
 not have time to drink the wine, unless we make great 
 haste, for I must take advantage of the tide to secure the 
 boat." 
 
 "What boat?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Why, the boat which sets out for Belle-Isle." 
 
 "Ah! for Belle-Isle," said the musketeer, "that is good." 
 
 "Bah: you will have plenty of time, monsieur," replied 
 the hotelier', uncorking the bottle, "the boat will not leave 
 this hour." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtftfE. 435 
 
 "But who will give me notice?" said the poet. 
 
 "Your neighbor," replied the host. 
 
 "But I scarcely know him." 
 
 "When you hear him going, it will be time for you to go." 
 
 "Is he going to Belle-Isle, likewise, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The monsieur who has a lackey?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 "He is some gentleman, no doubt?" 
 
 "I know nothing of him." 
 
 "How! know nothing of him?" 
 
 "No; all I know is, that he is drinking the same wine as 
 you." 
 
 "Peste f that is a great honor for us," said D'Artagnan, 
 filling his companion's glass, while the host went out. 
 
 "So," resumed the poet, returning to his dominant ideas, 
 "you never saw any printing done?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Well, then, take the letters thus, which compose the 
 word, you see; A B; ma foil here is an R, two EE, then a 
 G." And he assembled the letters with a swiftness and 
 skill which did not escape the eye of D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Abrege,*' said he, as he ended. 
 
 "Good!" said D'Artagnan; "here are plenty of letters 
 got together; but how are they kept so?" And he poured 
 out a second glass for the poet. M. Jupenet smiled like a 
 man who has an answer for everything; then he pulled out 
 — still from his pocket — a little metal ruler, composed of 
 two parts, like a carpenter's rule, against which he put to- 
 gether, and in a line, the characters, holding them under 
 his left thumb. 
 
 "And what do you call that little metal ruler?" said 
 D'Artagnan, "for, I suppose, all these things have names.' 
 
 "This is called a composing-stick," said Jupenet; "it is 
 by the aid of this stick that the lines are formed. ' r 
 
 "Come, then, I was not mistaken in what I said; you 
 have a press in your pocket," said D'Artagnan, laughing 
 with an air of simplicity so stupid that the poet was com- 
 pletely his dupe. 
 
 "No," replied he; "but I am too lazy to write, and when 
 I have a verse in my head I print it immediately. That is 
 a labor spared." 
 
 "Mordiouxl" thought D'Artagnan to himself, "this must 
 be cleared up." And under a pretext, which did not em- 
 barrass the musketeer, who was fertile in expedients, he left 
 the table, went downstairs, ran to the shed under which 
 
436 THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONNE. 
 
 stood the poet's little cart, poked the point of his poniard 
 into the stuff which enveloped one of the packages, which 
 he found full of types, like those which the poet had in his 
 pocket. 
 
 "Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "I do not yet know whether 
 Monsieur Fouquet wishes to fortify Belle-Isle; but, at all 
 events, here are some spiritual munitions for the castle." 
 Then, rich in his discovery, he ran upstairs again and re- 
 sumed his place at the table. 
 
 D'Artagnan had learned what he wished to know. He, 
 however, remained, none the less, face to face with his 
 partner, to the moment when they heard from the next 
 room symptoms of a person's being about to go out. The 
 printer was immediately on foot; he had given orders for 
 his horse to be got ready. His carriage was waiting at the 
 door. The second traveler got into his saddle, in the court- 
 yard, with his lackey. D'Artagnan followed Jupenet to 
 the door; he embarked his cart and horse on board the 
 boat. As to the opulent traveler, he did the same with his 
 two horses and his servant. But all the wit D'Artagnan 
 employed in endeavoring to find out his name was lost — he 
 could learn nothing. Only he took such notice of his coun- 
 tenance that that countenance was impressed upon his mind 
 forever. D'Artagnan had a great inclination to embark 
 with the two travelers, but an interest, more powerful than 
 curiosity — that of success — repelled him from the shore, 
 and brought him back again to the hotellerie. He entered 
 with a sigh, and went to bed directly, in order to be ready 
 early in the morning with fresh ideas and the counsel of 
 the night. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 D'ARTAGNAN CONTINUES HIS INVESTIGATIONS. 
 
 At daybreak D'Artagnan saddled Furet, who had fared 
 sumptuously all the night, and devoured the remainder of 
 the corn left by her companions. The musketeer sifted 
 all he could out of the host, whom he found cunning, mis- 
 trustful, and devoted, body and soul to M. Fouquet. In 
 order then not to awaken the suspicions of this man, he 
 carried on his fable of being a probable purchaser of some 
 salt mines. To have embarked for Belle-Isle at Eoche 
 Bernard would have been to' expose himself to comments 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 437 
 
 which had, perhaps, been already made, and would be car- 
 ried to the castle. Moreover, it was singular that this 
 traveler and his lackey should have remained a secret for 
 D'Artagnan, in spite of all the questions addressed by him 
 to the host, who appeared to know him perfectly well. The 
 musketeer then made some inquiries concerning the salt 
 mines, and took the road to the marshes, leaving the sea to 
 his right, and penetrating into that vast and desolate plain 
 which resembles a sea of mud, of which, here and there, a 
 few crests of salt silver the undulations. Furet walked 
 admirably, with his little nervous legs, along the foot-wide 
 causeways which separate the salt mines. D'Artagnan, 
 aware of the consequences of a fall, which would result in a 
 cold bath, allowed him to go as he liked, contenting him- 
 self with looking at, in the horizon, the three rocks, which 
 rose up like lance-blades from the bosom of the plain, desti- 
 tute of verdure. Pirial, the bourgs of Batz and Le Croisic, 
 exactly resembling each other, attracted and suspended his 
 attention. If the traveler turned round, the better to make 
 his observations, he saw on the other side a horizon of three 
 other steeples, Guerande, Le Poulighen, and St. Joachim, 
 which, in their circumference, represented a set of skittles, 
 of which he and Furet were but the wandering ball. Pirial 
 was the first little port on his right. He went thither, with 
 the names of the principle salters in his mouth. At the 
 moment he visited the littL port of Pirial, five large barges, 
 laden with stone, were leaving it. It apppeared strange to 
 D'Artagnan that stones should be leaving a country where 
 none are found. He had recourse to all the amenity of M. 
 Agnan to learn from the people of the port the cause of 
 this singularity. An old fisherman replied to M. Agnan, 
 that the stones, very certainly, did not come from Pirial or 
 the marshes. 
 
 "Where do they come from, then?" asked the musketeer. 
 
 ^'Monsieur, they come from Nantes and Paimbceuf." 
 
 "Where are they going, then?" 
 
 "Monsieur, to Belle Isle." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said D'Artagnan, in the same tone he had 
 assumed to tell the printer that his character interested him; 
 "are they building at Belle Isle, then?" 
 
 "Why, yes, monsieur, Monsieur Fouquet has the walls of 
 the castle repaired every year." 
 
 "Is it in ruins, then?" 
 
 "It is old." 
 
 "Thank you. The fact is/' said D'Artagnan to himself, 
 
438 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 "nothing is more natural; every proprietor has a right to 
 repair his property. It would be like telling me I was for- 
 tifying the Image de Notre Dame, when I should he purely 
 and simply obliged to make repairs. In good truth, I be- 
 lieve false reports have been made to his majesty, and he is 
 very likely to be in the wrong." 
 
 "You must confess," continued he then, aloud, and ad- 
 dressing the fisherman — for his part of a suspicious man was 
 imposed upon him by the object even of his mission — "you 
 must confess, my dear monsieur, that these stones travel in 
 a very curious fashion." 
 
 "How so?" said the fisherman. 
 
 "They come from Nantes or Paimboeuf by the Loire, do 
 they not?" 
 
 "That descends." 
 
 "That is convenient, I don't say it is not; but why do 
 they not go straight from St. Nazaire to Belle-Isle?" 
 
 "Eh! because the chalands (barges) are bad boats, and 
 keep the sea badly," replied the fisherman. 
 
 "That is not a reason." 
 
 "Pardon me, monsieur, one may see that you have never 
 been a sailor," added the fisherman, not without a sort of 
 disdain. 
 
 "Explain that to me, if you please, my good man. It 
 appears to me that to come from Paimboeuf to Pirial, and 
 go from Pirial to Belle-Isle, is as if we went from Roche 
 Bernard to Nantes, and from Nantes to Pirial." 
 
 "By water that would be the nearest way," replied the 
 fisherman imperturbably. 
 
 "But there is an elbow." The fisherman shook his head. 
 "The shortest road from one place to another is a straight 
 line," continued D'Artagnan. 
 
 "You forget the tide, monsieur." 
 
 "Well, take the tide." 
 
 "And the wind." 
 
 "Well, and the wind." 
 
 "Without doubt, the current of the Loire carries barks 
 almost as far as Croisic. If they want to lie by a little, or 
 to refresh the crew, they come to Pirial along the coast; 
 from Pirial they find another inverse current, which car- 
 ries them to the Isle Dumal, two leagues and a half." 
 
 "Granted." 
 
 "There the current of the Vilaine throws them upon an- 
 other isle, the isle of Hoedic." 
 
 "I agree to that." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 4B9 
 
 "Well, monsieur, from that isle to Belle-Isle the way is 
 quite straight. The sea, broken both above and below, 
 passes like a canal — like a mirror between the two isles; the 
 chalands glide along upon it like ducks upon the Loire; 
 that is it." 
 
 "It does not signify," said the obstinate M. Agnan; "it 
 is very far about." 
 
 "Ah! yes; but Monsieur Fouquet will have it so," re- 
 plied, as conclusive, the fisherman, taking off his woolen 
 cap at the enunciation of that respected name. 
 
 A look from D'Artagnan, a look as keen and piercing as 
 a sword-blade, found nothing in the heart of the old man 
 but simple confidence on his features, nothing but satisfac- 
 tion and indifference. He said "Monsieur Fouquet will 
 have it so," as he would have said "God has willed it." 
 
 D'Artagnan had already advanced too far in this direction; 
 besides, the chalands being gone, there remained nothing 
 at Pirial but a single bark — that of the old man, and it did 
 not look fit for sea without great preparation. D'Artagnan 
 therefore aroused Furet, who, as a new proof of his charm- 
 ing character, resumed his march with his feet in the salt 
 mines, and his nose to the dry wind, which bends the furze 
 and the broom of this country. He reached Croisic about 
 five o'clock. 
 
 If D'Artagnan had been a poet, it was a beautiful spec- 
 tacle that of the immense strand of a league or more, which 
 the sea covers at high tides, and which, at the reflux, ap- 
 pears gray, desolate, spread over with polypuses and sea- 
 weed, with its pebbles dispersed and white, like the bones 
 in some vast old cemetery. But the soldier, the politician, 
 and the ambitious man had no longer the sweet consolation 
 of looking toward heaven, to read there a hope or a warn- 
 ing. A red sky signifies nothing to such people but wind 
 and disturbance. White and fleecy clouds upon the azu: 3 
 only say that the sea will be smooth and peaceful. D'Ar- 
 tagnan found the sky blue, the breeze embalmed with salim 
 perfumes, and he said: "I will embark with the first tide, 
 if it be but in a nutshell." 
 
 At Croisic as at Pirial he had remarked enormous heaps 
 of stone lying along the shore. These gigantic walls, de- 
 molished every tide by the transport operated upon them 
 for Belle-Isle, were, in the eyes of the musketeer the 
 consequence and the proof of what he had well divined at 
 Pirial. Was it a wall that M. Fouquet was constructing? 
 was it a fortification that he was erecting? To ascertain 
 
440 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 • 
 
 that, he must see it. D'Artagnan put Furet into a stable, 
 supped, went to bed, and on the morrow took a walk upon 
 the port, or, rather, upon the shingle. Le Croisic has a 
 port of fifty feet; it has a lookout which resembles an 
 enormous brioche (a kind of cake) elevated on a dish. The 
 flat strand is the dish. Hundreds of barrowsful of earth, 
 solidified with the pebbles, and rounded into cones, with 
 sinuous passages between, are lookouts and brioches at the 
 same time. It is so now, and it was so two hundred years 
 ago, only the brioche was less large, and probably there 
 were not to be seen trellises of lath around the brioche, 
 which constitute the ornament of it, and which the edility 
 of that poor and pious bourgade has planted like gardes- 
 fou8 along the passages, winding toward the little terrace. 
 Upon the shingle were three or four fishermen talking 
 about sardines and shrimps. D'Artagnan, with his eye 
 animated by rough gayety, and a smile upon his lips, ap- 
 proached these fishermen. 
 
 ''Any fishing going on to-day?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied one of them, "we are only 
 waiting for the tide." 
 
 "Where do you fish, my friends?" 
 
 "Upon the coasts, monsieur." 
 
 "Which are the best coasts?" 
 
 "Ah, that is according. The tour of the isles, for ex- 
 ample." 
 
 "Yes, but they are a long way off, those isles, are they 
 not?" 
 
 "Not very; four leagues." 
 
 "Four leagues! That is a voyage." 
 
 The fishermen laughed out in M. Agnan's face. 
 
 "Hear me, then," said the latter, with an air of simple 
 stupidity; "four leagues off you lose sight of land, do you 
 not?" 
 
 "Why, not always." 
 
 "Ah, it is a long way — too long, or else I would have 
 asked you to take me aboard, and to show me what I have 
 never seen." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "A live sea-fish." 
 
 "Monsieur comes from the province?" said a fisherman. 
 
 "Yes, I come from Paris." 
 
 The Breton shrugged his shoulders; then, "Have you 
 ttver seen Monsieur Fouquet in Paris?" asked he, 
 
 "Often," replied D'Artagnan, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 441 
 
 "Often!" repeated the fishermen, closing their circle 
 round the Parisian. "Do you know him?" 
 
 "A little; he is the intimate friend of my master.'* 
 
 "Ah!" said the fishermen, in astonishment. 
 
 "And," said D'Artagnan, "I have seen all his chateaus of 
 St. Mande, of Vaux, and his hotel in Paris." 
 
 "Is that a fine place?" 
 
 "Superb." 
 
 "It is not so fine a place as Belle-Isle/' said the fisher- 
 man. 
 
 "Bah!" cried M. d'Artagnan, breaking into a laugh so 
 loud that he angered all his auditors. 
 
 "It is very plain you have never seen Belle-Isle," said 
 the most curious of the fishermen. "Do you know that 
 there are six leagues of it; and that there are such trees on 
 it as cannot be equaled even at Nantes sur le Fosse?" 
 
 "Trees in the sea!" cried D'Artagnan; "well, I should 
 like to see them." 
 
 "That can be easily done; we are fishing at the Isle de 
 Hoedic — come with us. From that place you will see, as a 
 paradise, the black trees of Belle-Isle against the sky; you 
 will see the white line of the castle, which cuts the horizon 
 of the sea like a blade." 
 
 "Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "that must be very beautiful. 
 But do you know there are a hundred belfries at Monsieur 
 Fouquet's chateau of Vaux?" 
 
 The Breton raised his head in profound admiration, but 
 he was not convinced. "A hundred belfries! Ah, that 
 may be; but Belle-Isle is finer than that. Should you like 
 to see Belle-Isle?" 
 
 "Is that possible?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes, with permission of the governor." 
 
 "But I do not know the governor." 
 
 "As you know Monsieur Fouquet, you can tell your 
 name." 
 
 "Oh, my friends, I am not a gentleman." 
 
 "Everybody enters Belle Isle," continued the fisherman, 
 in his strong, pure language, "provided he means no harm 
 to Belle Isle or its master." 
 
 A slight shudder crept over the body of the musketeer, 
 "That is true," thought he. Then, recovering himself, 
 *'If I were sure," said he, "not to be seasick." 
 
 "What, upon her?" said the fisherman, pointing with 
 pride to his pretty, round-bottomed bark. 
 
H% TIIE VIOOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Well, you almost persuade me," cried M. Agnan; "I 
 will go and see Belle-Isle, but they will not admit me." 
 
 "We shall enter, safe enough." 
 
 "You! What for?" 
 
 "Why, dame! to sell fish to the corsairs." 
 
 "He! Corsairs — what do you mean?" 
 
 "Well, I mean that Monsieur Fouquet is having two 
 corsairs built to chase the Dutch and the English, and we 
 sell our fish to the crews of those little vessels." 
 
 "Come, come!" said D'Artagnan to himself; "better and 
 better. A printing-press, bastions, and corsairs! Well, 
 Monsieur Fouquet is not an enemy to be despised, as I pre- 
 sumed to fancy. He is worth the trouble of traveling to 
 see him nearer." 
 
 "We set out at half-past five," said the fisherman gravely. 
 
 "I am quite ready, and I will not leave yon now." So 
 D'Artagnan saw the fishermen haul their barks to meet the 
 tide with a windlass. The sea rose; M. Agnan allowed 
 himself to be hoisted on board, not without sporting a little 
 fear and awkwardness, to the amusement of the young sea 
 urchins who watched him with their large, intelligent eyes. 
 He laid himself down upon a folded sail, did not interfere 
 with anything while the bark prepared for sea; and, with 
 its large square sail, it was fairly out within two hours. 
 The fishermen, who prosecuted their occupation as they 
 proceeded, did not perceive that their passenger had not 
 become pale, had neither groaned, nor suffered; that, in 
 spite of the horrible tossing and rolling of the bark, to 
 which no hand imparted direction, the novice passenger 
 had preserved his presence of mind and his appetite. They 
 fished, and their fishing was sufficiently fortunate. To 
 lines baited with prawn, soles came, with numerous gam- 
 bols, to bite. Two nets had already been broken by the 
 immense weight of congers and haddocks; three sea eels 
 plowed the hold with their slimy folds and their dying 
 contortions. D'Artagnan brought them good luck; they 
 told him so. The soldier found the occupation so pleasant 
 that he put his hand to the work — that is to say, to the 
 lines — and uttered roars of joy, and mordioux enough to 
 have astonished musketeers themselves, every time that a 
 shock given to his line by a captured prey required the 
 play of the muscles of his arm and the employment of his 
 skill and strength. The party of pleasure had made him 
 forget his diplomatic mission. He was struggling with an 
 awfully large conger, and holding fast with one hand to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 443 
 
 the side of the vessel, in order to seize with the other the 
 gaping jowl of his antagonist, when the patron said to him: 
 "Take care they don't see you from Belle-Isle." 
 
 These words produced the same effect upon D'Artagnan 
 as the hissing of the first bullet on a day of battle; he let 
 go of both line and conger, which, one dragging the other, 
 returned again to the water. D'Artagnan perceived, within 
 half a league at most, the blue and marked profile of the 
 rocks of Belle-Isle dominated by the white majestic line of 
 the castle. In the distance the land with its forests and 
 verdant plains; cattle on the grass. This was what first 
 attracted the attention of the musketeer. The sun darted 
 its rays of gold upon the sea, raising a shining mist or dust 
 around this enchanted isle. Nothing could be seen of it, 
 owing to this dazzling light, but the flattened points; every 
 shadow was strongly marked, and cut with a band of dark- 
 ness the luminous sheet of the fields and the walls. "Eh! 
 eh!" said D'Artagnan, at the aspect of those masses of 
 black rocks, "these are fortifications which do not stand in 
 need of any engineer to render a landing difficult. What 
 the devil way could a landing be effected on that isle, which 
 God has defended so completely?" 
 
 "This way," replied the patron of the bark, changing the 
 sail, and impressing upon the rudder a twist which turned 
 the boat in the direction of a pretty little port, quite coquet- 
 tish, quite round, and quite newly battlemented. 
 
 "What the devil do I see yonder?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "You see Leomaria," replied the fisherman. 
 
 "Well, but there?" 
 
 "That is Bragos." 
 
 "And further on?" 
 
 "Sanger, and then the palace." 
 
 "Mordioux ! It is a world. Ah ! there are some soldiers/ 5 
 
 "There are seventeen hundred men in Belle-Isle, mon- 
 sieur," replied the fisherman proudly. "Do you know 
 that the least garrison is of twenty companies of infantry?" 
 
 "Mordioux !" cried D'Artagnan stamping with his foot. 
 "His majesty was right enough." They landed. 
 
444 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELONNB- 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH THE READER, NO DOUBT, WILL BE AS ASTONISHED 
 AS D'ARTAGNAN WAS TO MEET WITH AN OLD ACQUAINT- 
 ANCE. 
 
 There is always something in a landing, if it be only 
 from the smallest sea-boat — a trouble and a confusion which 
 do not leave the mind the liberty of which it stands in need 
 in order to study at the first glance the new place that is 
 represented to it. The movable bridges, the agitated 
 sailors, the noise of the water upon the pebbles, the cries 
 and the importunities of those who wait upon the shores 
 are multiplied details of that sensation which is summed up 
 in one single result — hesitation. It was not, then, till after 
 standing several minutes on the shore that D'Artagnan saw 
 upon the port, but more particularly in the interior of the 
 isle, an immense number of workmen in motion. At his 
 feet D'Artagnan recognized the five chalands laden with 
 rough stone which he had seen leave the port of Pirial. 
 The stones were transported to the shore by means of a 
 chain formed by twenty-five or thirty peasants. The large 
 stones were loaded upon carriages which conveyed them in 
 the same direction as the shards, that is to say, toward the 
 works, of which D'Artagnan could as yet apppreciate 
 neither the strength nor the extent. Everywhere was to 
 be seen an activity equal to that which Telemachus observed 
 on his landing at Sarentum. D'Artagnan felt a strong 
 inclination to penetrate into the interior; but he could not, 
 under the penalty of exciting mistrust, exhibit too much 
 curiosity. He advanced then only little by little, scarcely 
 going beyond the line formed by the fishermen on the 
 beach, observing everything, saying nothing, and meeting 
 all suspicions that might have been excited with a half-silly 
 question or a polite bow. And yet, while his companions 
 carried on their trade, giving or selling their fish to the 
 workmen or the inhabitants of the city, D'Artagnan had 
 gained ground by degrees, and, reassured by the little at- 
 tention paid to him, he began to cast an intelligent and 
 confident look upon the men and things that appeared be- 
 fore his eyes. And his very first glance fell upon move- 
 ments of earth in which the eye of a soldier could not be 
 mistaken. At the two extremities of the port, in order 
 that the fires should cross upon the great axis of the ellipsis 
 
THE VtCOMTE DE BRAGELOtftfE. 44?> 
 
 formed by the basin, in the first place, two batteries had 
 been raised, evidently destined to receive flank pieces, for 
 D'Artagnan saw the workmen finishing the platforms anc. 
 making ready the demi-circumference in wood upon which 
 the wheel of the pieces might turn to embrace every direc- 
 tion over the epanlment. By the side of each of these bat- 
 teries other workmen were strengthening gabions filled with 
 earth, the lining of another battery. The latter had em- 
 brasures, and a conductor of the works called successively 
 men who, with cord:, tied the saucissons, and those Avho 
 cut the lozenges and right angles of turfs destined to retain 
 tdie matting of the embrasures. By the activity displayed 
 in these works, already so far advanced they might be con- 
 sidered as terminated, they were not yet furnished with 
 their cannons, but the platforms had their gltes and their 
 madriers all prepared; the earth, beaten carefully, had con- 
 solidated them; and, supposing the artillery to be on the 
 island, in less than two or three days the port might be 
 completely armed. That which astonished D'Artagnan, 
 when he turned his eyes from the coasb batteries to the for- 
 tifications of the city, was to see that Belle-Isle was de- 
 fended by an entirely new system, of which he had often 
 heard the Comte de la Fere speak as a great advancement, 
 but of which he had never yet seen the application. These 
 fortifications belonged neither to the Dutch method of 
 Marollais, nor to the French method of the Chevalier An- 
 toine de Ville, but to the system of Manesson Mallet, a 
 skillful engineer, who, for about six or eight years, had 
 quitted the service of Portugal to enter that of France. 
 These works had the peculiarity that, instead of rising 
 above the earth, as did the ancient ramparts destined to 
 defend a city from escalades, they, on the contrary, sank 
 into it; and what created the height of the walls was the 
 depth of the ditches. It did not take long to make D'Ar- 
 tagnan perceive the superiority of such a system, which 
 gives no advantage to cannon. Besides, as the fosses were 
 lower than, or on a level with, the sea, these fosses might 
 be inundated by subterranean sluices. Otherwise, the 
 works were almost complete, and a group of workmen, re- 
 ceiving orders from a man who appeared to be conductor of 
 the works, were occupied in placing the last stones. A 
 bridge of planks, thrown over the fosses for the greater 
 convenience of the maneuvers connected with the barrows, 
 joined the interior to the exterior. With an air of simple 
 curiosity, D'Artagnan asked if he might be permitted to 
 
446 THE VICOMTE BE BRAOELONNI. 
 
 cross the bridge, and he was told that no order prevented 
 it. Consequently, he crossed the bridge, and advanced 
 toward the group. 
 
 This group was superintended by the man whom D'Ar- 
 tagnan had already remarked, and who appeared to be the 
 engineer-in-chief. A plan was lying open before him upon 
 a large stone forming a table, and at some paces from him a 
 crane was in action. This engineer, who, by his evident 
 importance, first attracted the attention of D'Artagnan, 
 who wore a justau-corps, which, from its sumptuousness, 
 was scarcely in harmony with the work he was employed in, 
 which would rather have necessitated the costume of a 
 master mason than of a noble. He was, besides, a man of 
 high stature and large square shoulder's, wearing a hat 
 covered with feathers. He gesticulated in the most majes- 
 tic manner, and appeared, for D'Artagnan only saw his 
 back, to be scolding the workmen for their idleness and 
 want of strength. 
 
 D'Artagnan continued to draw nearer. At that moment 
 the man with the feathers had ceased to gesticulate, and, 
 with his hands placed upon his knees, was following, half 
 bent, the effort of six workmen to raise a block of hewn 
 stone to the top of a piece of timber destined to support 
 that stone so that the cord of the crane might be passed under 
 it. The six men, all on one side of the stone, united their 
 efforts to raise it to eight or ten inches from the ground, 
 sweating and blowing, while a seventh, got ready when 
 there should be daylight enough beneath it, to slide in the 
 roller that was to support it. But the stone had already 
 twice escaped from their hands before gaining a sufficient 
 height for the roller to be introduced. There can be no 
 doubt that every time the stone escaped them they bounded 
 quickly backward, to keep their feet from being crushed by 
 the retailing stone. Every time the stone, abandoned by 
 them, sank deeper into the damp earth, which lendered 
 the operation more and more difficult. A third effort was 
 lollowed by no better success, but with progressive dis- 
 couragement. And yet, when the six men were bent to- 
 ward the stone, the man with the feathers had himself, 
 with a powerful voice, given the word of command, "Firm!" 
 which presides over all maneuvers of strength. Then he 
 drew himself up. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said he, "what is all this about? Have I to 
 do with men of straw? Come de bcenf! stand on one side, 
 and you shall see how this is to be done." 
 
THE VTCOMTE DE SRAGELONNE. 447 
 
 "Pesfe!" said D'Artagnau, "will he pretend to raise that 
 rock? That would bo a sight worth looking at." 
 
 The workmen, as oommanded by the engineer, drew back 
 with their ears down, and, shaking their heads, with the 
 exception of the one who held the plank, who prepared k» 
 perform the office. The man with the feathers went up to 
 the stone, stooped, slipped his hands under the face lying 
 upon the ground, stiffened his Herculean muscles, and, 
 without a strain, with a slow motion, like that of a machine, 
 be lifted the end of the rock a foot from the ground. The 
 workman who held the plank profited by the space thus 
 given him, and slipped the roller under the stone. 
 
 "That's the way," said the giant, not letting the rock 
 fall again, but placing it upon its support. 
 
 "Mordioux I cried D'Artagnan, "I know but one man 
 capable of such a feat of strength." 
 
 "Ilein!" cried the colossus, turning round. 
 
 "Porthos!" murmured D'Artagnan, seized with stupor, 
 "Porthos at Belle-Isle?" 
 
 On his part, the man with the feathers fixed his eyes 
 upon the disguised lieutenant, and, in spite of his met- 
 amorphosis, recognized him. 
 
 "D'Artagnan!" cried he; and the color mounted to his 
 face. "Hush!" said he to D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Hush!" in his turn said the musketeer. In fact, if 
 Porthos had just been discovered by D'Artagnan, D'Ar- 
 tagnan had just been discovered by Porthos. The interest 
 <of the particular secret of each struck them both at the 
 'ame time. Nevertheless, the first movement of the two 
 men was to throw their arms round each other. What they 
 wished to conceal from the bystanders was, not their 
 friendship, but their names. But after the embrace came 
 the reflection. 
 
 "What the devil brings Porthos to Belle-Isle, lifting 
 stones?" said D'Artagnan; only D'Artagnan uttered that 
 [question in a low voice. Less strong in diplomacy than his 
 friend, Porthos thought aloud. 
 
 "How the devil did you come to Belle-Isle?" asked he 
 of D'Artagnan; "and what do you come to do here?" 
 
 It was necessary to reply without hesitation. To hesitate 
 in his answer to Porthos would have been a check, for which 
 the self-love of D'Artagnan would never have consoled 
 itself. 
 
 "Pardieu ! my friend, I am at Belle-Isle because you are 
 here. " 
 
448 THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Ah, bah!" said Porthos, visibly stupefied with the argu- 
 ment, and seeking to account for it to himself with that 
 lucidity of deduction which we know to be peculiar to him. 
 
 "Without doubt," continued D'Artagnan, unwilling to 
 give his friend time to recollect himself, "I have been to 
 see you at Pierrefonds." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you did not find me there?" 
 
 "No, but I found Mouston." 
 
 "Is he well?" 
 
 "Pester 
 
 "Well, but Mouston did not tell you I was here/' 
 
 "Why should he not? Have I, perchance, deserved to 
 lose his confidence?" 
 
 "No; but he did not know it." 
 
 "Well, that is a reason at least not offensive to my self- 
 love." 
 
 "Then, how did you manage to find me?" 
 
 "My dear friend, a great noble, like you, always leaves 
 traces behind him on his passage* and I should think but 
 poorly of myself if I were not sharp enough to follow the 
 traces of my friends." 
 
 This explanation, flattering as it was, did not entirely 
 satisfy Porthos. 
 
 "But I left no traces behind me, as I came here dis- 
 guised," said Porthos. 
 
 "Ah! You came disguised, did you?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And how?" 
 
 "As a miller." 
 
 "And do you think a great noble like you, Porthos, can 
 affect common manners so as to deceive people?" 
 
 "Well, I swear to you, my friend, that I played my part 
 so well that everybody was deceived." 
 
 "Indeed! so well that I have not discovered and joined 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes; but how have you discovered and joined me?" 
 
 "Stop a bit. I was going to tell } r ou how. Do you 
 imagine Mouston " 
 
 "Ah! it was that fellow, Mouston," said Porthos, gather- 
 ing together those two triumphant arches which served hira 
 for eyebrows. 
 
 "But stop, I tell you — it was no fault of Mouston's, be- 
 cause he was ignorant of where you were." 
 
THE VICOMTE IDE BRAGELONNE. 449 
 
 "I know he was; and that is why 1 am in such haste to 
 ' understand — ■ — ■" 
 
 "Oh! how impatient yon are, Porthos." 
 
 "When I do not comprehend, I am terrible. 5 ' 
 
 "Well, you will understand. Aramis wrote to you at 
 Pierrefonds, did he not?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And he told you to come before the equinox." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "Well, that is it," said D'Artagnan, hoping that this 
 reason would satisfy Porthos. Porthos appeared to give 
 himself up to a violent mental labor. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said he, "I understand. As Aramis told me 
 1 to come before the equinox, you have understood that that 
 was to join him. You then inquired where Aramis was, 
 saying to yourself, 'Where Aramis is, there Porthos will 
 be.' You have learned that Aramis was in Bretagne, and 
 you said to yourself, 'Porthos is in Bretagne.' " 
 
 "Exactly. In good truth, Porthos, I cannot tell why 
 
 you have not turned conjurer. So you understand that, 
 
 arriving at Eoche Bernard, I heard of the spl ndid fortifi- 
 
 i cations going on at Belle-Isle. The account raised my 
 
 curiosity. I embarked in a fishing-boat, without dreaming 
 
 i that you were here; I came, and I saw a fine fellow lifting 
 
 .a stone which Ajax could not have stirred. I cried out, 
 
 'Nobody but the Baron de Bracieux could have performed 
 
 . such a feat of strength.' You heard me, you turned round, 
 
 >you recognized me, we embraced; and ma foil if you like, 
 
 imy dear friend, we will embrace again." 
 
 "Ah! now it is all explained," said Porthos; and he em- 
 braced D'Artagnan with so much friendship as to deprive 
 tthe musketeer of his breath for five minutes. 
 
 "Why, you are stronger than ever," said D'Artagnan^ 
 "and still in your arms." 
 
 Porthos saluted D'Artagnan with a gracious smile. Dur- 
 ing the five minutes D'Artagnan was recovering his breath, 
 he reflected that he had a very difficult part to play. It 
 was necessary that he should question without ever reply- 
 ing. By the time his respiration returned > he had fixed his 
 plan of the campaign. 
 
450 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONITE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 WHEREIN THE IDEAS OF D'ARTAGNAN, AT EIRST VERI 
 TROUBLED, BEGIN TO CLEAR UP A XITTLE. 
 
 D'Artagnan immediately took the offensive. 
 
 "Now that I have told you all, my dear friend, or, rather, 
 now you have guessed all, tell me what you are doing here, 
 covered with dust and mud?" 
 
 Porthos wiped his brow, and looked around him with 
 pride. 
 
 "Why, it appears," said he, "that you may see what I 
 am doing here." 
 
 "No doubt, no doubt, you lift great stones." 
 
 "Oh! to show these idle fellows what a man is," said 
 Porthos, with contempt. "But you understand " 
 
 "Yes, that it is not your place to lift stones, although 
 there are many whose place it is who cannot lift them as 
 you do. It was that which made me ask you just now, 
 'What are you doing here, baron?' " 
 
 "I am studying topography, chevalier." 
 
 "You are studying topography?" 
 
 "Yes; but you — what are you doing in that common 
 dress?" 
 
 D' Artagnan perceived he had committed a fault in giving 
 expression to his astonishment. Porthos had taken advan- 
 tage of it to retort with a question. 
 
 "Why," said he, "you know I am a bourgeois, in fact; 
 my dress, then, has nothing astonishing in it, since it con- 
 forms with my condition." 
 
 "Nonsense! you are a musketeer." 
 
 "You are wrong, my friend; I have given in my resigna- 
 tion." 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 "Oh, mon Dieu ! yes." 
 
 "And have you abandoned the service ?" 
 
 "I have quitted it." 
 
 "You have abandoned the king?" 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 Porthos raised his arms toward heaven, like a man who 
 laas heard extraordinary news. 
 
 "Well, that does confound me!" said he. 
 
 &< It is, nevertheless, true." 
 
 "And what led you to form such a resolution?" 
 
 "The king displeased me. Mazarin had disgusted me 
 
THE VICOMTE t>E BRAGELONNE. 451 
 
 for a long time, as you know; so I threw my cassock to the 
 nettles." 
 
 "But Mazarin is dead." 
 
 "I know that well enough, parbleu ! Only, at the period 
 of his death, my resignation had been given in and accepted 
 two months. Then, feeling myself free, I set off for Pierre- 
 fonds, to see my friend Porthos. I had heard talk of the 
 happy division you had made of your time, and I wished, 
 for a fortnight, to divide mine after your fashion." 
 
 "My friend, you know that it is not for a fortnight the 
 house is open to you ; it is for a year — for ten years — for life." 
 
 "Thank you, Portlios." 
 
 "Ah! but perhaps you want money — do you?" said Por- 
 thos, making something like fifty louis chink in his pocket. 
 "In that case, you know " 
 
 "No, thank you; lam not in want of anything. I placed 
 my savings with Planchet, who pays me the interest of 
 them." 
 
 "Your savings?" 
 
 "Y s, to be sure," said D'Artagnan. "Why should I 
 mot put by savings, as well as another, Porthos?" 
 
 "Oh, there is no reason why; on the contrary, I always 
 1 suspect d you — that is to say, Aram is always suspected you 
 ito have savings. For my own part, d'ye see, I take no con- 
 icern about the management of my household; but I pre- 
 rgurae the savings of a musketeer must be small." 
 
 "No doubt, relative to yourself, Porthos, who are a mil- 
 lionaire; but i ou shall judge. I had laid by twenty-live 
 ! thousand litres " 
 
 "That's pretty well," said Porthos, with an affable air. 
 
 "And,' continued D'Artagnan, "on the 28th of last 
 month I added to it two hundred thousand livres more." 
 
 Porthos opened his large eyes, which eloquently de- 
 manded of the musketeer, 'Where the devil did you steal 
 such a sum as that, my dear friend?" 
 
 "Two hundred thousand livres!" cried he, at length. 
 
 "Yes; which, with the twenty-five I had, and twenty 
 thousand I have about me, complete the sum of two hun- 
 ; dred and forty-five thousand livres." 
 
 "But tell me, whence comes this fortune?" 
 
 "I will tell you all about it presently, dear friend; but as 
 you have, in the first place, many things to tell me your- 
 self, let us place my recital in its proper rank." 
 
 "Bravo!" said Porthos; "then we are both rich. But 
 what can I have to relate to you?" 
 
452 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 
 
 "You have to relate to me how Aramis came to be 
 named " 
 
 "Ah! Bishop of Vannes." 
 
 "That \r it," said D'Artagnan, "Bishop of Vannes. 
 Dear Aramis! do you know how he succeeded so well?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; without reckoning that he does not mean to 
 stop there." 
 
 "What! do you mean he will not be contented with 
 violet stockings, and that he wants a red hat?" 
 
 "Hush! that is promised him." 
 
 "Bah! by the king." 
 
 "By somebody more powerful than the king." 
 
 "Ah! the devil! Porthos, what incredible things you 
 tell me, my friend!" 
 
 "Why incredible? Is there not always somebody in 
 France more po erful than the king?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; in the time of King Louis XIII. it was Car- 
 dinal .Richelieu; in the time of the regency it was Cardinal 
 Mazarin. In the time of Louis XIV. it is Monsieur " 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "It is Monsieur Fouquet." 
 
 "Jove! you have hit it the first time." 
 
 "So, then, I suppose it is Monsieur Fouquet who has 
 promised Aramis the red hat?" 
 
 Porthos assumed an air of reserve. 
 
 "Dear friend," said he, "God preserve me from med- 
 dling with the affairs of others, above all, from revealing 
 secrets it may be to th"ir interest to be kept. When you 
 see Aramis, he will tell you all he thinks he ought to tell 
 you." 
 
 "You are right, Porthos; and you are quite a padlock 
 for safety. But, to revert to yourself." 
 
 "Yes," said Porthos. 
 
 "You said just now you came hither to study topography?" 
 
 "I did so." 
 
 "Tu Dieu! my friend, what fine things you will do!" 
 
 "Hew do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, these fortifications are admirable." 
 
 "Is that your opinion?" 
 
 "Doubtless it is. In truth, to anything but a regular 
 siege, Belle-Isle is impregnable." 
 
 Porthos rubbed his hands. 
 
 "That is my opinon," said he. 
 
 "But who the devil has fortified this paltry little place ir 
 this manner?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 453 
 
 Porthos drew himself up proudly: 
 
 "Did not I tell you who?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Do you not suspect?" 
 
 "No; all that I can say is that he is a man who has 
 studied all the systems and who appears to me to have 
 stopped at the best." 
 
 "Hush!" said Porthos; "consider my modesty, my dear 
 D'Artagnan." 
 
 "In truth," replied the musketeer, "can it be you — who 
 _oh— !" 
 
 "Pray — my dear friend " 
 
 "You, who have imagined, traced, and combined, between 
 these bastions, these redans, these curtains, these half- 
 moons, and are preparing that covered way?" 
 
 "I beg you " 
 
 "You who have built that lunette with its retiring angles 
 and its salient angles." 
 
 "My friend " 
 
 "You who have given that inclination to the openings of 
 your embrasures, by the means of which you so effectively 
 protect the men who serve the guns." 
 
 "Eh! mon Dieu ! yes." 
 
 "Oh! Porthos, Porthos! I must bow down before you — 
 I must admire you! But you have always concealed from 
 us this superior genius. I hope, my dear friend, you will 
 show me all this in detail?" 
 
 "Nothing more easy. There is my plan." 
 
 "Show it me." 
 
 Porthos led D'Artagnan toward the stone which served 
 him for a table, and upon which the plan was spread. At 
 the foot of the plan was written, in the formidable writing 
 of Porthos, writing of which we have already had occasion 
 to speak: 
 
 "Instead of making use of the square or rectangle, as 
 has been done to this time, you will suppose your place in- 
 closed in a regular hexagon, this polygon having the advan- 
 tage of offering more angles than the quadrilateral one. 
 Every side of your hexagon, of which you will determine 
 the length in proportion to the dimensions taken upon the 
 place, will be divided into two parts, and upon the middle 
 point you will elevate a perpendicular toward the center of 
 the polygon, which will equal in length the sixth part of 
 the side. By the extremities of each side of the polygon 
 you will trace two diagonals, which will cut the perpendicu- 
 lar. These two rights will form the lines of the defense." 
 
454 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "The devil!" said D'Artagnan, stopping at this point of 
 the demonstration. "Why, this is a complete system, 
 Porthos." 
 
 "Entirely," said Porthos. "Will yon continue?" 
 
 "No; I have read enough of it; but, since it is you, my 
 dear Porthos, who direct the works, what need have you of 
 setting down your system so formally in writing?" 
 
 "Oh, mv dear friend, death!" 
 
 "How death?" 
 
 "Why, we are all mortal, are we not?" 
 
 "That is true," said D'Artagnan; "you have a reply for 
 everything, my friend/' 
 
 And he placed the plan upon the stone. 
 
 But however short a time he had the plan in his hands, 
 D'Artagnan had been able to distinguish, under the enor- 
 mous writing of Porthos, a much more delicate hand, which 
 reminded him of certain letters to Marie Michon, with 
 which he had been acquainted in his youth. Only the 
 India-rubber had passed and repassed so often over this 
 writing that it might have escaped a less practised eye than 
 that of our musketeer. 
 
 "Bravo! my friend, bravo!" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "And now you know all that you want to know, do you 
 not?" said Porthos, wheeling about. 
 
 " Mordioux! yes, only do me one last favor, dear friend." 
 
 "Speak; I am master here." 
 
 "Do me the pleasure to tell me the name of that gentle- 
 man who is walking yonder." 
 
 "Where— there?" 
 
 "Behind the soldiers." 
 
 "Followed by a lackey?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "In company with a mean sort of fellow dressed in black?" 
 
 "Yes, I mean him." 
 
 "That is Monsieur Getard." 
 
 "And who is Getard, my friend?" 
 
 "He is the architect of the house." 
 
 "Of what house?" 
 
 "Of Monsieur Fouquet's house." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" cried D'Artagnan, "you are of the household 
 of Monsieur Fouquet, then, Porthos?" 
 
 "I! what do you mean by that?" said the topographer, 
 blushing to the top of his ears. 
 
 "Why, you say the house, when speaking of Belle-Isle, 
 as if you were speaking of the chateau of Pii" 'efonds." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRA.GELOXXE, 455 
 
 Porthos bit his lips. 
 
 ''Belle-Isle, my friend," said he, "belongs to Monsieui 
 Fouquet, does it not?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe so." 
 
 "As Pierrefonds belongs to me?" 
 
 "I told you I believed so; there are not two words to 
 that." 
 
 "Did you ever see a man there who is accustomed to walk 
 about with a ruler in his hand?" 
 
 "No; but I might have seen him there, if he really 
 walked there." 
 
 "Well, that gentleman is Monsieur Boulingrin." 
 
 "Who is Monsieur Boulingrin?" 
 
 "Now we come to it. If, when this gentleman is walk- 
 ing with a ruler in his hand, any one should ask me, 'Who 
 is Monsieur Boulingrin?' I should reply,' He is the archi- 
 tect of the house.' Well, Monsieur Getard is the Boulin- 
 grin of Monsieur Fouquet. But he has nothing to do with 
 the fortifications, which are my department alone. Do you 
 understand? — mine, absolutely mine." 
 
 "Ah! Porthos," cried D'Artagnan, letting his arms fall 
 as a conquered man gives up his sword; "ah! my friend, 
 you are not only a Herculean topographer, you are, still 
 further, a dialectician of the first water." 
 
 "Is it not powerfully reasoned?" said Porthos; and he 
 puffed and blew like the conger which D'Artagnan had let 
 slip from his hand. 
 
 "And now," said D'Artagnan, "that shabby-looking 
 man, who accompanies Monsieur Getard, is he also of the 
 household of Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Porthos, with contempt; "it is one Mon- 
 sieur Jupenet, or Juponet, a sort of poet." 
 
 "Who is to come to establish himself here?" 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 "I thought Monsieur Fouquet had poets enough yonder 
 — Scudery, Loret, Pellisson, La Fontaine? If I must tell 
 you the truth, Porthos, that poet disgraces you." 
 
 "Eh! my friend, but what saves us is that he is not here 
 as a poet." 
 
 "As what then, is he?" 
 
 "As printer. And you make me remember I have a word 
 to say to the cuistre." 
 
 "Say it then." 
 
 Porthos made a sign to Jupenet, who perfectly recollected 
 D'Artagnan, and did not care to come nearer; which natu- 
 
456 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 
 
 rally produced another sign from Porthos. Thi? was so im- 
 perative he was obliged to obey. As he approached: 
 
 "Come, hither," said Porthos. "You only landed yester- 
 day, and you have begun your tricks already." 
 
 "How so, Monsieur le Baron?" asked Jupenet, trembling. 
 
 "Your press was groaning all night, monsieur," said 
 Porthos, "and you prevented my sleeping, come de boettf!" 
 
 "Monsieur — "objected Jupenet timidly. 
 
 "You have nothing yet to print; therefore, you have no 
 occasion to set your press going. What did you print last 
 night?" 
 
 "Monsieur, a light poem of my own composition." 
 
 "Light! no, no, monsieur; the press groaned pitifully 
 with it. Let that not happen again. Do you understand?" 
 
 "No, monsieur." 
 
 "You promise me?" 
 
 "I do, monsieur." 
 
 "Very well; this time I pardon you. Adieu." 
 
 "Well, now we have combed that fellow's head, let us 
 breakfast." 
 
 "Yes," replied D'Artagnan; "let us breakfast." 
 
 "Only," said Porthos, I beg you to observe, my friend, 
 that we have only two hours for our repast." 
 
 "What would you have? We will try to make enough of 
 it. But why have you only two hours?" 
 
 "Because it is high tide at one o'clock, and, with the 
 tide, I am going to Vannes. But, as I shall return to- 
 morrow, my dear friend, you can stay here; you shall be 
 master; I have a good cook and a good cellar." 
 
 "No," interrupted D'Artagnan, "better than that." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "You are going to Vannes, you say?" 
 
 "To a certainty." 
 
 "To see Aramis?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 1 "Well, I came from Paris on purpose to see Aramis." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "I will go with you, then." 
 
 "Do; that's the thing." 
 
 "Only, I ought to have seen Aramis first, and you after. 
 But man proposes, and God disposes. I have begun with 
 you, and will finish with Aramis." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "And in how many hours can you go from hence t;' 
 Vannes?" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 457 
 
 "Oh! pardieu! in six hours. Three hours by sea to 
 Sarzeau, three hours by road from Sarzeau to Valines." 
 
 "How convenient that is! Being so near to the bishopric, 
 do you often go to Vannes?" 
 
 "Yes; once a week. But, stop till I get my plan." 
 
 Porthos picked up his plan, folded it carefully, and in- 
 gulfed it in his large pocket. 
 
 "Good!" said D'Artagnan aside; "I think I now know 
 the true engineer who is fortifying Belle-Isle." 
 
 Two hours after, at high tide, Porthos and D'Artagnan 
 set out for Sarzeau. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 A PROCESSION AT VANNES. 
 
 The passage from Belle-Isle to Sarzeau was made rapidly 
 enough, thanks to one of those little corsairs of which D'Ar- 
 tagnan had been told during his voyage, and which, shaped 
 for fast sailing and destined for the chase, were sheltered 
 at that time in the road of Loc-Maria, where one of them, 
 with a quarter of its war-crew, performed the duty between 
 Belle-Isle and the continent. D'Artagnan had an oppor- 
 tunity of convincing himself that Porthos, though engineer 
 and topographer, was not deeply versed in affairs of state. 
 His perfect ignorance, with any other, might have passed 
 for well-informed dissimulation. But D'Artagnan knew 
 too well all the folds and refolds of his Porthos not to find 
 a secret if there were one there; like those regular, minute 
 old bachelors, who know how to find, with their eyes shut, 
 each book on the shelves of their library, and each piece of 
 linen in their wardrobe. Then, if he had found nothing, 
 that cunning D'Artagnan, in rolling and unrolling his 
 Porthos, it was because, in truth, there was nothing to be 
 found. 
 
 "Be it so," said D'Artagnan; "I shall know more at 
 Vannes in half an hour than Porthos has known at Belle- 
 Isle in two months. Only, in order that I may know some- 
 thing, it is important that Porthos does not make use of 
 the only stratagem I leave at his disposal. He must not 
 warn Aramis of my arrival." 
 
 All the cares of the musketeer were then, for the mo- 
 ment, confined to the watching of Porthos. And let us 
 hasten to say, Porthos did not deserve all this mistrust. 
 
458 THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 Porthos thought of no evil. Perhaps, on first seeing him, 
 D'Artagnan had inspired him with a little suspicion; but 
 almost immediately D'Artagnan had reconquered in that 
 good and brave heart the place he had always occupied, 
 and not the least cloud darkened the large eye of Porthos, 
 fixed from time to time with tenderness on his friend. 
 
 On landing, Porthos inquired if his horses were waiting, 
 and he soon perceived them at the crossing of the road 
 which turns round Sarzeau, and which, without passing 
 through that little city, leads toward Vannes. These horses 
 were two in number, one for M. de Vallon, and one for his 
 equerry; for Porthos had an equerry since Mouston was 
 only able to use a carriage as a means of locomotion. D'Ar- 
 tagnan expected that Porthos would propose to send for- 
 ward his equerry upon one horse to bring back another 
 horse, and he, D'Artagnan, had made up his mind to oppose 
 this proposition. But nothing that D'Artagnan had ex- 
 pected happened. Porthos simply told the equerry to dis- 
 mount and await his return at Sarzeau, while D'Artagnan 
 would ride his horse; which was done. 
 
 "Eh! but you are quite a man of precaution, my dear 
 Porthos," said D'Artagnan to his friend, when he found 
 himself in the saddle upon the equerry's horse. 
 
 "Yes; but this is a kindness on the part of Aramis. I 
 have not my stud here, and Aramis has placed his stables at 
 my disposal." 
 
 "Good horses for bishop's horses, mordioux!" said D'Ar- 
 tagnan. "It is true, Aramis is a bishop of a peculiar kind." 
 
 "He is a holy man," replied Porthos, in a tone almost 
 nasal, and with his eyes raised toward heaven. 
 
 "Then he is much changed," said D'Artagnan; "you 
 and I have known him passably profane." 
 
 "Grace has touched him," said Porthos. 
 
 "Bravo!" said D'Artagnan, "that redoubles my desire to 
 see my dear old friend." 
 
 And he spurred his horse, which sprang off into a more 
 rapid pace. 
 
 ''Peste!" said Porthos, "if we go on at this rate, we shall 
 only take one hour instead of two." 
 
 "To go how far, do you say, Porthos?" 
 
 "Four leagues and a half." 
 
 "That will be a good pace." 
 
 "I could have embarked you on the canal, but the devil 
 take rowers and boat-horses! The first are like tortoises, 
 the second like snails; and when a man s able to put s 
 
THE V1C0MTE DE BKAGELONNE. 459 
 
 good horse between his knees, that horse is better worth 
 than rowers or any other means." 
 
 ''You are right; you above all, Porthos, who always look 
 magnificent on horseback." 
 
 "Rather heavy, my friend; I was weighed the other day." 
 
 "And what do you weigh?" 
 
 "Three hundredweight," said Porthos proudly. 
 
 "Bravo!" 
 
 "So that you must perceive that I am forced to choose 
 horses whose loins are straight and wide; otherwise I break 
 them down in two hours." 
 
 "Yes, giant's horses you must have, must you not?" 
 
 "You are very polite, my friend," replied the engineer, 
 with an affectionate majesty. 
 
 "As a case in point," replied D'Artagnan, "your horse 
 seems to sweat already." 
 
 "Dame! It is hot. Ah, ah! do you see Vannes now?" 
 
 "Yes, perfectly. It is a handsome city, apparently." 
 
 "Charming, according to Aramis, at least; but I think it 
 black; but black seems to be considered handsome by 
 artists; I am very sorry for it." 
 
 "Why so, Porthos?" 
 
 "Because I have lately had my chateau of Pierrefonds, 
 which was gray with age, plastered white." 
 
 "Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "but white is more cheer- 
 ful." 
 
 "Yes, but it is less august, as Aramis tells me. Fortu- 
 nately, there are dealers in black as well as white. I will 
 have Pierrefonds replastered in black; that is the whole of 
 it. If gray is handsome, you understand, my friend, black 
 must be superb." 
 
 "Da?ne!" said D'Artagnan, "that appears logical." 
 
 "Were you never at Vannes, D'Artagnan?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Then you know nothing of the city?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Well, look!" said Porthos, raising himself in his stir- 
 rups, which made the fore-quarters of his horse bend sadly. 
 "Do you see that corner, in the sun, yonder?" 
 
 "Yes, I see it plainly." 
 
 "Well, that is the cathedral." 
 
 "Which is called?" 
 
 "St.. Pierre. Now look agaii- -ii? the faubourg, on the 
 left, do you see another cross' ' 
 
 "Perfectly well" 
 
460 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 ''That is St. Paterae, the parish preferred by Aram is." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Without doubt. St. Paterae, see you, passes for hav- 
 ing been the first bishop of Vannes. It is true that Aramis 
 pretends that he was not. But he is so learned that that 
 may be only a paro — a para " 
 
 "But a paradox," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Precisely; thank you; my tongue slips, I am so hot." 
 
 "My friend," said D'Artagnan, "continue your interest- 
 ing description, I beg. What is that large white building 
 with many windows?" 
 
 "Oh! that is the college of the Jesuits. Pardieu ! you 
 have a lucky hand. Do you see, close to the college, a 
 large house with steeples, turrets, and built in a handsome 
 Gothic style, as that brute, Monsieur Getard, says?" 
 
 "Yes, that is plainly to be seen. Well?" 
 
 "Well, that is where Aramis resides." 
 
 "What! does he not reside at the episcopal palace?" 
 
 "No, that is in ruins. The palace likewise is in the city, 
 and Aramis prefers the faubourgs. That is why, as I told 
 you, he is partial to St. Paterae; St. Paterae is in the fau- 
 bourg. Besides, there are in this faubourg a mail, a tennis- 
 court, and a house of Dominicans. Look, that where the 
 handsome steeple rises to the heavens." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Next, see you, the faubourg is like a separate city; it 
 has its walls, its towers, its ditches; the quay is upon it 
 likewise, and the boats land at the quay. If our little cor- 
 sair did not draw eight feet of water, we could have come 
 full sail up to Aramis' windows." 
 
 "Porthos, Porthos," cried D'Artagnan, "you are a well 
 of knowledge, a spring of ingenious and profound reflections 
 Porthos, you no longer surprise me, you confound me." 
 
 "Here we are arrived," said Porthos, turning the con- 
 versation with his usual modesty. 
 
 "And high time we were," thought D'Artagnan, "for 
 Aramis' horse is melting away like a horse of ice." 
 
 They entered almost at the same instant into the fau- 
 bourg; but scarcely had they gone a hundred paces when 
 they were surprised to find the streets strewed with leaves 
 and flowers. 
 
 Against the old walls of Vannes were hung the oldest and 
 the strangest tapestries of France. From over balconies 
 fell long white sheets stuck all over with bouquets. The 
 streets were deserted; it was plain that the whole popula- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 461 
 
 tion was assembled an one point. The blinds were closed, 
 and the breeze penetrated into the houses under the hang- 
 ings, which cast long black shades between their places of 
 issue and the walls. Suddenly, at the turning of a street, 
 chants struck the ears of the newly arrived travelers. A 
 crowd in holiday garb appeared through the vapors of 
 incense which mounted to the heavens in blue flocks, and 
 clouds of rose-leaves flew up as high as the first stories, 
 Above all heads were to be seen the cross and banners, the 
 sacred symbols of religion. Then, beneath these crosses 
 and banners, as if protected by them, was a whole world of 
 young girls clothed in white, and crowned with cornflowers. 
 At the two sides of the street, inclosing the cortege, 
 marched the guards of the garrison, carrying bouquets in 
 the barrels of their muskets and on the points of their lances. 
 This was a procession. While D'Artagnan and Porthos 
 were looking on with a fervor of good taste, which dis- 
 guised an extreme impatience to get forward, a magnificent 
 dais approached, preceded by a hundred Jesuits and a hun- 
 dred Dominicans, and escorted by two archdeacons, a treas- 
 urer, a plenipotentiary, and twelve canons. A chanter with 
 a thundering voice — a chanter certainly picked out from all 
 the voices of France, as was the drum-mi^jorof the Imperial 
 Guard from all the giants of the empire — a chanter escorted 
 by four other chanters, who appeared to be there only to 
 serve him as an accompaniment, made the air resound, and 
 the windows of all the houses vibrate. Under the dais ap- 
 peared a pale and noble countenance, with black eyes, black 
 hair streaked with threads of white, a delicate, compressed 
 mouth, a prominent and angular chin. This head, full of 
 graceful majesty, was covered with the episcopal miter, a 
 headdress which gave it, in addition to the character of 
 sovereignty, that of asceticism and evangelic meditation. 
 
 "Aramis!" cried the musketeer involuntarily, as this 
 lofty countenance passed before him. The prelate started 
 at the sound of the voice. He raised his large black eyes, 
 with their long lashes, and turned them without hesitation 
 toward the spot whence the exclamation proceeded. At a 
 glance he saw Porthos and D'Artagnan close to him. On 
 his part, D'Artagnan, thanks to the keenness of his sight, 
 had seen all, seized all. The full portrait of the prelate 
 had entered his memory, never to leave it. One thing had 
 particularly struck D'Artagnan. On perceiving him, 
 Aramis had colored, then he had concentrated under his 
 eyelids the fire of the look of the master and the impercep- 
 
462 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 tible affection of the look of the friend. It was evident 
 that Aramis addressed this question to himself: "Why is 
 D'Artagnan with Porthos, and what does he want at Vali- 
 nes?" Aramis comprehended all that was passing in the 
 mind of D'Artagnan, on turning his look upon him again, 
 and seeing that he had not lowered his eyes. He knew the 
 acuteness and intelligence of his friend; he feared to let 
 him divine the secret of his blush and his astonishment. 
 He was still the same Aramis, always having a secret to 
 conceal. Therefore, to put an end to this look of an in- 
 quisitor, which it was necessary to get rid of at all events, 
 as, at any price, a general extinguishes a battery which 
 annoys him, Aramis stretched forth his beautiful white 
 hand, upon which sparkled the amethyst of the pastoral 
 ring; he cut the air with the sign of the cross, and poured 
 out his benediction upon his two friends. Perhaps, 
 thoughtless and absent, D'Artagnan, impious in spite of 
 himself, might not have bent beneath this holy benediction, 
 but Porthos saw his distraction, and laying his friendly 
 hand upon the back of his companion, he crushed him down 
 toward the earth. D'Artagnan was forced to give way; 
 indeed, he was little short of being flat on the ground. In 
 the meantime Aramis had passed. D'Artagnan, like 
 Antaeus, had only touched the ground, when he turned 
 toward Porthos, almost angry. But there was no mistak- 
 ing the intention of the brave Hercules; it was a feeling of 
 religious propriety that had influenced him. Besides, 
 speech, with Porthos, instead of disguising his thought, 
 always completed it. 
 
 "It is very polite of him," said he, "to have given his 
 benediction to us alone* Decidedly, he is a holy man, and 
 a brave man." 
 
 Less convinced than Porthos, D'Artagnan made no reply. 
 
 "Observe, my friend," continued Porthos, "he has seen 
 lis; and, instead of continuing to walk on at the simple 
 pace of the procession, as he did just now — see, what a 
 hurry he is in; do you see how the cortege is increasing its 
 speed? He is eager to join us and embrace us, is that dear 
 Aramis." 
 
 "That is true," replied D'Artagnan aloud. Then, to 
 himself: "It is equally true he has seen me, the fox, and 
 will have time to prepare himself to receive me." 
 
 But the procession had passed; the road was free. D'Ar 
 tagnan and Porthos walked straight up to the episcopus 
 palace^, which was surrounded by a numerous o-nwd. anx 
 
THE VICOMTE PE BRAGELOtflfE. 463 
 
 ious to see the prelate return. D'Artagnan remarked that 
 this crowd was composed principally of citizens and mili- 
 tary men. He recognized in the nature of these partisans 
 the address of his friend. Aramis was not the man to seek 
 for a useless popularity. He cared very little for being be- 
 loved by people who could be of no service to him. Women, 
 children, and old men, that is to say, the cortege of ordi- 
 nary pastors, was not the cortege for him. 
 
 Ten minutes after the two friends had passed the thres- 
 hold of the palace, Aramis returned like a triumphant con- 
 queror; the soldiers presented arms to him as to a superior; 
 the citizens bowed to him as to a friend and a patron, rather 
 than as the head of the Church. There was something in 
 Aramis resembling those Roman senators who had their 
 doors always surrounded by clients. At the foot of the 
 prison he had a conference of half a minute with a Jesuit, 
 who, in order to speak to him more secretly, passed his 
 head under the dais. He then re-entered his palace; the 
 doors closed slowly, and the crowd melted away, while 
 chants and prayers were still resounding abroad. It was a 
 magnificent day. Earthly perfumes were mingled with the 
 perfumes of the air and the sea. The city breathed happi- 
 ness, joy, and strength. D'Artagnan felt something like 
 the presence of an invisible hand which had, ail-powerfully, 
 created this strength, this joy, this happiness, and spread 
 (everywhere these perfumes. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said he, "Porthos has got fat; but Aramis is 
 ; grown taller!" 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI1. 
 
 THE GRANDEUR OF THE BISHOP OF VANNES. 
 
 Porthos and D'Artagnan had entered the bishop's resi 
 dence by a private door, as his personal friends. Of course, 
 Porthos served D'Artagnan as guide. The worthy baron 
 comported himself everywhere rather as if he were at home. 
 Nevertheless, whether it was a tacit acknowledgment of the 
 sanctity of the personage of Aramis and his character, or 
 the habit of respecting him who imposed upon him morally. 
 a vorthy habit which had always made Porthos a model 
 soldier and an excellent companion; for all these reasons, 
 say we, Porthos preserved in the palace of His Greatness 
 Hie Bishop of Yannes a sort of reserve ^hich D'Artagnan 
 
464 THI VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 remarked at once, in the attitude he took with respect tc 
 the valets and officers. And yet this reserve did not go so 
 far as to prevent hisasking questions. Porthos questioned. 
 They learned that his greatness had just returned to his 
 apartment, and was preparing to appear in familiar in- 
 timacy, less majestic than he had appeared with his flock. 
 After a quarter of an hour, which D'Artagnan and Porthoa 
 passed in looking mutually at each other with the whites of 
 their eyes, and turning their thumbs in all the different 
 evolutions which go from north to south, a door of the 
 chamber opened and his greatness appeared, dressed in the 
 undress, complete, of a prelate. Aramis carried his head 
 high, like a man accustomed to command; his violet robe 
 was tucked up on one side, and his white hand was on his 
 hip. He had retained the fine mustache and the length- 
 ened royale of the time of Louis XIII. He exhaled, on en- 
 tering, that delicate perfume which, among elegant men 
 and women of high fashion, never changes, and appears to 
 be incorporated in the person, of whom it has become the 
 natural emanation. In this case only, the perfume had 
 retained something of the religious sublimity of incense. 
 It no longer intoxicated, it penetrated; it no longer in- 
 spired desire, it inspired respect. Aramis, on entering the 
 chamber, did not hesitate an instant; and without pro- 
 nouncing one word, which, whatever it might be, would 
 have been cold on such an occasion, he went straight up to 
 the musketeer, so well disguised under the costume of M. 
 Agnan, and pressed him in his arms with a tenderness 
 which the most distrustful could not have suspected of cole' 
 ness or affectation. 
 
 D'Artagnan, on his part, embraced him with equal ardor. 
 Porthos pressed the delicate hand of Aramis in his immense 
 hands, and D'Artagnan remarked that his greatness gave 
 him his left hand, probably from habit, seeing that Porthos 
 already ten times had been near injuring his fingers, covered 
 with rings, by pounding his flesh in the vise of his fist. 
 Warned by the pain, Aramis was cautious, and only pre- 
 sented flesh to be bruised, and not fingers to be crushed, 
 against gold or the angles of diamonds. 
 
 Between two embraces Aramis looked D'Artagnan in the 
 face, offered him a chair, sitting down himself in the shade, 
 observing that the light fell full upon the face of his inter- 
 locutor. This maneuver, familar to diplomatists and 
 women, resembles much the advantage of the guard which, 
 according to their skill or habit, combatants endeavor to 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 465 
 
 'take on the ground at a duel. D'Artagnan was not the 
 dupe of this maneuver; but he did not appear to perceive 
 it. He felt himself caught; but precisely because he was 
 : caught, he felt himself on the road to discovery, and it 
 little imported to him, old condottiere as he was, to be 
 f beaten in appearance, provided he drew from his pretended 
 i defeat the advantages of victory. Aramis began the con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Ah! dear friend, my good D'Artagnan," said he ; "what 
 an excellent chance!" 
 
 "It is a chance, my reverend companion," said D'Artag 
 man, "that I will call friendship. I seek you, as I always 
 I have sought you, when I had any grand enterprise to pro- 
 ipose to you, or some hours of liberty to give you=" 
 
 "Ah, indeed," said Aramis, without explosion, "you 
 have been seeking me?" 
 
 "Eh! yes, he has been seeking you, Aramis," said Por- 
 I thos, "and the proof is that he has unharbored me at Belle- 
 t Isle. That is amiable, is it not?" 
 
 "Ah! yes," said Aramis, "at Belle-Isle! Certainly." 
 "Good!" said D'Artagnan; "there is my booby Porthos, 
 without thinking of it, has fired the first cannon of attack." 
 "At Belle-Isle!" said Aramis, "in that hole, in that 
 desert! That is kind, indeed!" 
 
 "And it was I who told him you were at Vannes," con- 
 I tinued Porthos, in the same tone. 
 
 D'Artagnan armed his mouth with a finesse almost 
 ironical. 
 
 "Yes, I knew, but I was willing to see," replied he. 
 "To see what?" 
 
 "If our old friendship still held out, if, on seeing each 
 I other, our heart, hardened as it is by age, would still let the 
 (> old cry of joy escape which salutes the coming of a friend. 
 "Well, and you must have been satisfied," said Aramis. 
 "So, so." 
 "How is that?" 
 
 "Yes, Porthos said hush, and you " 
 
 "Well, and I?" 
 
 "And you gave me your benediction." 
 "What would you have, my friend?" said Aramis, smil- 
 ing; "that is the most precious thing that a poor prelate . 
 like me has to give." 
 
 "Indeed, my dear friend!" 
 "Doubtless." 
 
 "And yet they say at Paris that the bishopric of Vannes 
 is one of the best in Praace'*' 
 
466 THE VICOMTE DE BRAOELONXE. 
 
 "Ah! you are now speaking of temporal wealth," said 
 Aramis, with a careless air. 
 
 "To be sure, I wish to speak of that; I hold by it, on my 
 part. 1 ' 
 
 "In that case, let me speak of it," said Aramis, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "You own yourself to be one of the richest prelates in 
 France?" 
 
 "My friend, since you ask me to give you an account, I 
 will tell you that the bishopric of Vannes is worth about 
 twenty thousand livres a year, neither more nor less. It is 
 a diocese which contains a hundred and sixty parishes." 
 
 "That is very pretty," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "It is superb!" said Porthos. 
 
 "And yet," resumed D'Artagnan, throwing his eyes over 
 Aramis, "you don't mean to bury yourself here forever?" 
 
 "Pardon me. Only I do not admit the word bury." 
 
 "But it seems to me that at this distance from Paris a 
 man is buried, or nearly so." 
 
 "My friend, I am getting old," said Aramis; "the noise 
 and bustle of a city no longer suit me. At fifty-seven we 
 ought to seek calm and meditation. I have found them 
 here. What is there more beautiful, and stern at the same 
 time, than this old Amorica? I find here, dear D'Artag- 
 nan, all that is opposite to what I formerly loved, and that 
 is what must happen ;>t the end of life, which is opposite to 
 the beginning. A little of my old pleasure of former times 
 still comes to salute me here, now and then, without divert- 
 ing me from the road of salvation. I am still of this world, 
 and yet every step that I take brings me nearer to God." 
 
 "Eloquent, wise, and discreet, you are an accomplished 
 prelate, Aramis, and I offer you my congratulations." 
 
 "But," said Aramis, smiling, "you did not come here 
 only for the purpose of paying me compliments. Speak: 
 what brings you hither? May it be that, in some fashion 
 :t other, you want me?" 
 
 "Thank God, no, my friend," said D'Artagnan; "it is 
 nothing of that kind. I am rich and free." 
 
 "Eich!" exclaimed Aramis. 
 
 "Yes, rich for me, not for you, or Porthos, understand. 
 I have an income of about fifteen thousand livres." 
 
 Aramis looked at him suspiciously. He could not believe 
 — particularly on seeing his friend in such humble guise — 
 that he had made so fine a fortune. Then D'Artagnan, 
 seeing that the hour for explanations was come, related tho 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 46? 
 
 history of his English adventures. During the recital he 
 saw ten times the eyes of the prelate sparkle and his slender 
 lingers work convulsively. As to Porthos, it was not ad- 
 miration he manifested for D'Artagnan; it was enthusiasm, 
 it was delirium. When D'Artagnan had finished: 
 
 "Well," said Aramis. 
 
 "Well," said D'Artagnan, "you see, then.. I have in Eng- 
 land friends and property, in France a treasure. If youi 
 heart tells you so, I offer them to you. That is what J 
 came here for." 
 
 However firm was his look, he could not this tim:, sup^ 
 port the look of Aramis. He allowed, therefore, his eye to 
 stray upon Porthos — like the sword which yields to too 
 powerful a pressure, and seeks another road. 
 
 "At all events," said the bishop, "you have assumed a 
 singular traveling costume, old friend." 
 
 "Frightful! I know it is. You may understand why I 
 would not travel asacaralier or noble; since I became rich 
 I am miserly." 
 
 "And you say, then, you came to Belle-Isle," said 
 Aramis, without transition. "Yes," replied D'Artagnan; 
 "I knew I should find you and Porthos there." 
 
 "Find me!" cried Aramis. "Me! For the last year past 
 I have not once crossed the sea." 
 
 "Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "I should never have supposed 
 you such a housekeeper." 
 
 "Ah, dear friend, I must tell you that 1 am no longer the 
 man of former times. Eiding on horseback is unpleasant to 
 me; the sea fatigues me; I am a poor, ailing priest, always 
 complaining, always grumbling, and inclined to the austeri- 
 ties which appear to accord with old age — parleys with 
 death. I abide, my dear D'Artagnan, I abide." 
 
 "Well, that is all the better, my friend, for we aha)) 
 probably become neighbors soon." 
 
 "Bah!" said Aramis, with a degree of surprise be chd not 
 even seek to dissemble. "You my neighbor?" 
 
 " Morchoux! yes." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "I am about to purchase some very profitable salt mines^ 
 which are situated between Pirial and Croisic. Imagine, 
 my friend, a clear profit of twelve per cent. Never any 
 deficiency, never any idle expenses; the ocean, faithful and 
 regular, brings every six hours its contingent to my coffers. 
 I am the first Parisian who has dreamed of such a specula* 
 tion. Do not say anything about it, I beg of you, and in * 
 
468 THE TICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 
 
 short time we will communicate on the matter. I am to 
 have three leagues of country for thirty thousand livres." 
 
 Aramis darted a look at Porthos, as if to ask if all this 
 were true, if some snare were not concealed beneath this 
 outward indifference. But soon, as if ashamed of having 
 consulted this poor auxiliary, he collected all his forces for 
 a fresh assault and a fresh defense. 
 
 "I heard that you had had some difference with the court) 
 ,but that you had come out of it, as you know how to come 
 out of everything, D'Artagnan, with the honors of war." 
 
 "I!" said the musketeer, with a burst of laughter that 
 could not conceal his embarrassment; for, from these words, 
 Aramis was not unlikely to be acquainted with his last rela- 
 tions with the king. "I! Oh, tell me all about that, pray, 
 Aramis." 
 
 "Yes, it was related to me, a poor bishop lost in the mid- 
 dle of the Landes, that the king had taken you as the con- 
 fidant of his amours." 
 
 "With whom?" 
 
 "With Mademoiselle de Mancini." 
 
 D'Artagnan breathed freely again. 
 
 "Ah! I don't say no to that," replied he. 
 
 "It appears that the king took you, one morning, over 
 the bridge of Blois to talk with his lady-love." 
 
 "That's true," said D'Artagnan. "And you know that, 
 do you? Well, then, you must know that the same day I 
 gave in my resignation?" 
 
 "What, sincerely?" 
 
 "Nothing could be more sincere." 
 
 "It was after that, then, that you went to the Comte de 
 la Fere's?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Afterward to me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And then Porthos?" 
 
 "Yes." _ 
 
 "Was it in order to pay us a simple visit?" 
 
 "NO; I did not know you were engaged, and I wished to 
 take you with me into England." 
 
 "Yes, I understand; and then you executed alone, won- 
 derful man as you are, what you wanted to propose to us 
 all four to do. I suspected you had had something to do in 
 that famous restoration when I learned that you had been 
 seen at King Charles' receptions, and that he appeared to 
 treat you like a friend, or, rather, like a person to whom 
 he was und^" "*» obligation," 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRA.GELOK'NE. 469 
 
 "But how the devil could you learn all that?" asked 
 D'Artagnan, who began to fear that the investigation of 
 Aramis would extend further than he wished. 
 
 "Dear D'Artagnan," said the prelate, "my friendship 
 resembles, in a degree, the solicitude of that night watch 
 whom we have in the little tower of the mole at the extrem- 
 ity of the quay. That brave man, every night, lights a 
 lantern to direct the barks which come from sea. He is 
 concealed in his sentry-box, and the fishermen do not see 
 him; but he follows them with interest; he divines them; 
 he calls them; he attracts them into the way to the port. I 
 resemble this watcher. From time to time some news 
 reaches me, and recalls to my remembrance all that I loved. 
 Then I follow the friends of old days over the stormy ocean 
 of the world, I, a poor watcher, to whom God has kindly 
 given the shelter of a sentry-box." 
 
 "Well, what did I do when I came from England?" 
 
 "Ah! there," replied Aramis, "you get out of my sight. 
 I know nothing of you since your return, D'Artagnan; my 
 sight grows thick. I regretted you did not think of me. 
 I wept over your forgetfulness. I was wrong. I see you 
 again, and it is a festival, a great festival, I swear to you! 
 How is Athos?" 
 
 "Very well, thank you." 
 
 "And our young pupil, Kaoul?'* 
 
 "He seems to have inherited the skill of his father, 
 Athos, and the strength of his tutor, Porthos." 
 
 "And on what occasion have you been able to judge of 
 that?" 
 
 "Eh! mon Dieu! the eve of my departure from Paris." 
 
 "Indeed! what was it?" 
 
 "Yes; there was an execution at the Greve, and in con- 
 sequence of that excution, a riot. We happened, by acci- 
 dent, to be in the riot; and in this riot we were obliged tc 
 have recourse to our swords. And he did wonders." 
 
 "Bah! what did he do?" 
 
 "Why, in the first place, he threw a man out of the win- 
 dow, as he would have thrown a bale of cotton." 
 
 "Come, that's pretty well," said Porthos. 
 
 "Then he drew, and cut and thrust away, as we fellsows 
 used to do in good old times." 
 
 "And what was the cause of this riot?" said Porthos. 
 
 D'Artagnan remarked upon the face of Aramis a com- 
 plete indifference to this question of Portho.s. 
 
 "Why," said he, fixing his eyes upon Aramis, "on account 
 
470 THE YICOMTE DE BRAGELOXXE. 
 
 of two farmers of the revenues, friends of Monsieur Fou- 
 quet, whom the king forced to disgorge their plunder, and 
 then hanged them." 
 
 A scarcely perceptihle contraction of the prelate's brow 
 showed that he had heard D'Artagnan's reply. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" said Porthos; "and what were the names of 
 these friends of Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "Messieurs d'Eymeris and Lyodot," said D'Artagnan. 
 ;< Do you know those names, Aramis?" 
 
 "No," said the prelate disdainfully; "they sound like 
 the names of financiers." 
 
 "Exactly; so they were." 
 
 "Oh! Monsieur Fouquet allows his friends to be hanged, 
 then!" said Porthos. 
 
 "And why not?" said Aramis. "Why, it seems to me " 
 
 "If these culprits were hanged, it was by order of the 
 king. Now, Monsieur Fouquet, although surintendant of 
 the finances, has not, I believe, the right of life and death." 
 
 "That may be," said Porthos; "but in the place of Mon- 
 sieur Fouquet " 
 
 Aramis was afraid Porthos was about to say something 
 awkward, so interrupted him. 
 
 "Come, D'Artagnan," said he; "this is quite enough about 
 other people; let us talk a little about you." 
 
 "Of me you know all that I can tell you. On the con- 
 trary, let me hear a little about you, Aramis." 
 
 "I have told you, my friend. There is nothing of Aramis 
 left in me." 
 
 "Nor of the Abbe d'Herblay even?" 
 
 "No, not even of him. You see a man whom God has 
 taken by the hand, whom He has conducted to a position 
 that he could never have dared even to hope for." 
 
 "God?" asked D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, that is strange! I have been told it was Monsieur 
 Fouquet." 
 
 "Who told you that?" cried Aramis, without being able, 
 with all the power of his will, to prevent the color rising to 
 his cheeks. 
 
 "Ma foil why, Bazin." 
 
 "The fool!" 
 
 "I do not say he is a man of genius, it is true; but he 
 told me so; and after him I repeat it to you." 
 
 "1 have never seen Monsieur Fouquet," replied Aramis. 
 with a look as pure and calm as that of a virgin who has 
 never told, a lie. 
 
THE TICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNE. 471 
 
 "Well, but if you have seen him and known him, there is 
 no harm in that," replied D'Artagnan. "Monsieur Fou- 
 quet is a very good sort of a man." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 "A great politician." 
 
 Aramis made a gesture of indifference. 
 
 "An all-powerful minister." 
 
 "I only hold of the king and the pope." 
 
 "Dame! listen, then," said D'Artagnan, in the most 
 natural tone imaginable. "I said that because everybody 
 here swears by Monsieur Fouquet. The plain is Monsieur 
 Fouquet's; the salt mines I am about to buy are Monsieur 
 Fouquet's; the island in which Porthos studies topography 
 is Monsieur Fouquet's; the garrison is Monsieur Fouquet's; 
 the galleys are Monsieur Fouquet's. I confess, then, that 
 nothing would have surprised me in your enfeoffment, or, 
 rather, that of your diocese, to Monsieur Fouquet. He is 
 another master than the king, that is all, and quite as 
 powerful as the king." 
 
 "Thank God, I am not enfeoffed to anybody; I belong to 
 nobody, and am entirely my own," replied Aramis, who, 
 during this conversation, followed with his eye every ges- 
 ture of D'Artagnan, every glance of Porthos. But D'Ar- 
 tagnan was impassible and Porthos motionless; the thrusts 
 aimed so skillfully were parried by an able adversary; not 
 one hit the mark. Nevertheless, both began to feel the 
 fatigue of such a contest, and the announcement of supper 
 was well received by everybody. Supper changed the 
 course of conversation. Besides, they felt that, upon their 
 guard, as each one had been, they could neither of them 
 boast of having the advantage. Porthos had understood 
 nothing of what had been meant. He had held himself 
 motionless, because Aramis had made him a sign not to 
 stir. Supper, for him, was nothing but supper; but that 
 was quite enough for Porthos. The supper, then, went off 
 very well. D'Artagnan was in high spirits. Aramis ex- 
 ceeded himself in kind affability. Porthos eat like old 
 Pelops. Their talk was of war, finance, the arts, and love. 
 Aramis played astonishment at every word of politics D'Ar- 
 tagnan risked. This long series of surprises increased the 
 mistrust of D'Artagnan, as the eternal indifference of 
 D'Artagnan provoked the suspicions of Aramis. At length 
 D'Artagnan designedly uttered the name of Colbert; he 
 had reserved that stroke for the last. 
 
 "Who is this Colbert?" asked the bishop. 
 
472 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Oh! come," said D'Artagnan to himself, "that is loo 
 strong! We must be careful, mordioux ! we must be care- 
 ful." And he then gave Aramis all the information re- 
 specting M. Colbert he could desire. The supper, or, 
 rather, the conversation, was prolonged till one o'clock in 
 the morning between D'Artagnan and Aramis. At ten 
 o'clock precisely Porthos had fallen asleep in his chair, and 
 snored like an organ. At midnight he woke up, and they 
 sent him to bed. 
 
 "Hum!" said he, "I was near falling asleep; but that 
 .Was all very interesting you were talking about." 
 
 At one o'clock Aramis conducted D'Artagnan to the 
 chamber destined for him, which was the best in the 
 episcopal residence. Two servants were placed at his com- 
 mand. , 
 
 "To-mororw, at eight o'clock," said he, taking leave of 
 D'Artagnan, "we will take, if agreeable to you, a ride on 
 horseback with Porthos." 
 
 "At eight o'clock!" said D'Artagnan. "So late?" 
 
 "You know that I require seven hours' sleep," said 
 Aramis. 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "Good-night, dear friend." And he embraced the mus- 
 keteer cordially. 
 
 D'Artagnan allowed him to depart; then, as soon as the 
 door was closed: 
 
 "Good!" cried he, "at five o'clock I will be on foot." 
 
 "This determination being made, he went" to bed, and 
 "folded the pieces together," as people say. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIII. 
 
 IN WHICH PORTHOS BEGINS TO BE SORRY FOR HAVING 
 COME WITH D'ARTAGNAN. 
 
 Scarcely had D'Artagnan extinguished his taper, when 
 Aramis, who had watched through his curtains the last 
 glimmer of light in his friend's apartment, traversed the 
 corridor on tiptoe, and went to Porthos' room. The giant, 
 who had been in bed nearly an hour and a half, lay grandly 
 stretched out upon the down bed. He was in that happy 
 calm of the first sleep, which, with Porthos, resisted the 
 noise of bells or the report of cannula; his head swam in 
 that soft oscillation which reminds us of the soothing move- 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONKE. 473 
 
 menfc of a ship. In a moment Porthos would have begun 
 to dream. The door of the chamber opened softly under 
 the delicate pressure of the hand of Aramis. The bishop 
 approached the sleeper. A thick carpet deadened the 
 sound of his steps, besides which Porthos snored in a man- 
 ner to drown all noise. He laid one hand on his shoulder: 
 
 "Rouse," said he; "wake up, my dear Porthos." 
 
 The voice of Aramis was soft and kind, but it conveyed 
 more than a notice — it conveyed an order. His hand was 
 light, but it indicated a danger. Porthos heard the voice 
 and felt the hand of Aramis, even in the profoundness of 
 his sleep. He started up. 
 
 "Who goes there?" said he, in his giant's voice. 
 
 "Hush! hush! It is I," said Aramis. 
 
 "You, my friend? And what the devil do you wake me 
 for?" 
 
 "To tell you that you must set off directly." 
 
 "Set off?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where for?" 
 
 "For Paris." 
 
 Porthos bounded up in his bed, and then sank back again, 
 fixing his great eyes in terror upon Aramis. 
 
 "For Paris?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A hundred leagues?" said he. 
 
 "A hundred and four," said the bishop. 
 
 "Oh/ mon Dieii !" sighed Porthos, lying down again, 
 like those children who contend with their bonnes to gain 
 an hour or two more sleep. 
 
 "Thirty hours' riding," said Aramis firmly. "You 
 know there are good relays." 
 
 Porthos pushed out one leg, allowing a groan to escape 
 him. 
 
 "Come, come, my friend," insisted the prelate, with a 
 sort of impatience. 
 
 Porthos drew the other leg out of the bed. 
 
 "And is it absolutely necessary that I should go?" said 
 he. 
 
 "Urgently necessary." 
 
 Porthos got upon his feet, and began to shake both walls 
 and floors with his steps of a marble statue. 
 
 "Hush! hush! for the love of Heaven, my dear Porthos!" 
 said Aramis, "you will wake somebody." 
 
 "Ah! that's true," replied Porthos, in a voice of thun- 
 dery "I forgot that; but be satisfied, I will observe." 
 
474 THE VICOMTE BE BRAOELONNE. 
 
 And so saying, he let fall a belt loaded with his sword 
 and pistols, and ;i purse, from which the crowns escaped 
 with a vibrating and prolonged noise. This noise made 
 the blood of Aramis boil, while it drew from Porthos a for- 
 midable burst of laughter. 
 
 "How droll that is!" said he, in the same voice. 
 
 "Not so loud, Porthos, not so loud." 
 
 "True, true!" and he lowered his voice a half-note. "I 
 was going to say," continued Porthos, "that it is droll that 
 W3 are never so slow as when we are in a hurry, and never 
 make so much noise as when we wish to be silent." 
 
 "Yes, that is true; but let us give the proverb the lie, 
 Porthos; let us make haste, and hold our tongues." 
 
 "You see I am doing my best," said Porthos, putting on 
 haut-de-ch misses. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "This seems to be something in haste?" 
 
 "It is more than that, it is serious, Porthos." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" 
 
 "D'Artagnan has questioned you, has he not?" 
 
 "Questioned me?" 
 
 "Yes, at Belle-Isle." 
 
 "Not the least in the world." 
 
 "Are you sure of that Porthos?" 
 
 " Parbleu ! It is impossible." 
 
 "Recollect yourself." 
 
 "He asked me what I was doing, and I told him — study- 
 ing topography. I would have made use of another word 
 which you employed one day." 
 
 "Of castrametation?" 
 
 "Yes, that's it; but I never could recollect it." 
 
 "All the better. What more did he ask you?" 
 
 "Who Monsieur Getard was." 
 
 "Next?" 
 
 "Who Monsieur Jupenet was." 
 
 "He did not happen to see our plan of fortifications, did 
 .he?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The devil he did!" 
 
 "But don't be alarmed, I had rubbed out your writing 
 with India-rubber. I was impossible for him to suppose you 
 had given me any advice in those works." 
 
 "Ay; but our friend has very keen eyes." 
 
 "What are you afraid of?" 
 
 "I fear that everything is discovered, Porthos; the matter 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BKAGELONNE. 475 
 
 is, then, to prevent a great misfortune. I have given 
 orders to my people to close all the gates and doors. D'Ar- 
 tagnan will not be able to get out before daybreak. Your 
 horse is ready saddled; you will gain the first relay; by five 
 o'clock in the morning you will have gone fifteen leagues. 
 Come!" 
 
 Aramis then assisted Porthos to dress, piece by piece, 
 with as much celerity as the most skillful valet de cJiambre 
 could have done. Porthos, half-confused, half-stupefied, 
 let him do as he liked, and confounded himself in excuses. 
 When he was ready, Aramis took him by the hand, and led 
 him, making him place his foot with precaution on every 
 step of the stairs, preventing him running against door- 
 frames, turning him this way and that, as if Aramis had 
 been the giant and Porthos the dwarf. Soul set fire to and 
 elevated matter. A horse was waiting, ready saddled, in 
 the courtyard. Porthos mounted. Then Aramis himself 
 took the horse by the bridle, and led him over some dung 
 spread in the yard, with the evident intention of suppress- 
 ing noise. He, at the same time, pinched the horse's nose, 
 to prevent him neighing. When arrived at the outward 
 gate, drawing Porthos toward him, who was going off with- 
 out even asking him what for: 
 
 "Now, friend Porthos, now, without drawing bridle till 
 you get to Paris," whispered he in his ear; "eat on horse- 
 back, drink on horseback, sleep on horseback, but lose not 
 minute." 
 
 "That's enough; I will not stop." 
 
 "This letter to Monsieur Fouquet; cost what it may, he 
 must have it to-morrow before midday." 
 
 "He shall have it." 
 
 "And do not forget one thing, my friend.'* 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That you are riding after your brevet of due and peer." 
 
 "Oh! oh!" said Porthos, with his eyes sparkling; "I will 
 do it in twenty-four hours, in that case." 
 
 "Try to do so." 
 
 "Then let go the bridle — and forward, Goliah!" 
 
 Aramis did let go, not the bridle, but the horse's nose. 
 Porthos released his hand, clapped spurs to his horse, which 
 set off at a gallop. As long as he could distinguish Porthos 
 through the darkness, Aramis followed him with his eyes; 
 when he was completely out of sight, he re-entered the 
 yard. Nothing had stirred in D'Artagnan's apartment. The 
 valet placed on watch at the door had neither seen any light 
 
476 THE VIC0MTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 nor heard a..y noise. Aramis closed his door carefully, seni 
 the lackey to bed, and quickly sought his own; D'Artag- 
 nan really suspected nothing, therefore thought, he had 
 gained everything when he awoke in the morning about half- 
 past four. He ran to the window in his shirt. The win- 
 dow looked out upon the court. Day was dawning. The 
 court. was deserted; the fowls, even, had not left their 
 roosts. Not a servant appeared. All the doors were closed. 
 
 "Good! perfect calm," said D'Artagnan to himself. 
 "Never mind; I am up tirst in the house. Let us dress; 
 that will be so much done." 
 
 And D'Artagnan dressed himself. But, this time, he 
 endeavored not to give to the costume of M. Agnan that 
 bourgeoise and almost ecclesiastical rigidity he had affected 
 before; he managed, by drawing his belt tighter, by button- 
 ing his clothes in a different fashion, and by putting on his 
 hat a little on one side, to restore to his person a little of 
 that military character, the absence of which had surprised 
 Aramis. This being done, he made free, or affected to 
 make free, with his host, and entered his chamber without 
 ceremony. Aramis was asleep, or feigned to be asleep. A 
 large book lay open upon his night-desk, a wax-light was 
 still burning above its silver plateau. This was more than 
 enough to prove to D'Artagnan the innocence of the night 
 of the prelate and the good intentions of his waking. The 
 musketeer did to the bishop precisely as the bishop had 
 clone to Porthos — he tapped him on the shoulder. Evi- 
 dently Aramis pretended to sleep; for instead of waking 
 suddenly, he who slept so lightly, he required a repetition 
 of the summons. 
 
 "Ah, ah! is that you?" said he, stretching his arms. 
 "What an agreeable surprise! Ma foi ! Sleep had made me 
 forget I had the happiness to possess you. What o'clock is 
 it?" 
 
 "I do not know," said D'Artagnan, a little embarrassed. 
 'Early, I believe. But, you know, that devil of a habit of 
 making with the day sticks to me still." 
 
 "Do you wish that we should go out so soon?" asked 
 Aramis. "It appears to me to be very early." 
 
 "Just as you like." 
 
 "I thought we had agreed not to get on horseback before 
 eight." 
 
 "Possibly; but I have so great a wish to see you that T 
 said to myself, the sooner the Better." 
 
 "And my seven hours' sleep/' said Aramis; "take oars, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 477 
 
 I had reckoned upon them, and what I lose of them I must 
 make up." 
 
 "'But it seems to me that, formerly, you were less of a 
 sleeper than that, dear friend; your blood was alive, and you 
 were never to be found in bed."' 
 
 "And it is exactly on account of what you tell me that I 
 am so fond of being there now." 
 
 "Then you confess that it is not for the sake of sleeping 
 that you have put me off till eight o'clock?" 
 
 "I have been afraid you would laugh at me if I told you 
 the truth." 
 
 "Tell me, notwithstanding." 
 
 "Well, from six to eight I am accustomed to perform my 
 devotions." 
 
 "Your devotions?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I did not believe a bishop's exercises were so severe." 
 
 "A bishop, my friend, must sacrifice more to appearances 
 than a simple clerk." 
 
 " Mordioux ! Aramis, that is a word which reconciles me 
 with your greatness. To appearances! That is a mus- 
 keteer's word, in good truth. Vive les apparences ! Aramis!" 
 
 "Instead of felicitating me upon it, pardon me, D'Artag- 
 nan. It is a very mundane word which I had allowed to 
 escape me." 
 
 "Must I leave you, then?" 
 
 "I want time to collect my thoughts, my friend, and for 
 my usual prayers." 
 
 "Well, I leave you to them; but on account of that poor 
 pagan, D'Artagnan, abridge them for once, I beg; I thirst 
 for speech of you." 
 
 "Well, D'Artagnan, I promise you that within an hour 
 and a half " 
 
 "An hour and a half of devotions! Ah! my friend, be as 
 reasonable with me as you can. Let me have the best 
 bargain possible." 
 
 Aramis began to laugh. 
 
 "Still agreeable, still young, still gay," said he. "You 
 have come into my diocese to set me quarreling with grace." 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 "And you know well that I was never able to resist your 
 seductions; you will cost me my salvation, D'Artagnan." 
 
 D'Artagnan bit his lips. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I will take the sin on my own head; 
 favor me with one simple Christian sign of the cross, favor 
 me with one pater, and we will nart." 
 
478 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "Hush!" said Aramis, "we are already no longer alone 
 I hear strangers coming up." 
 
 "Well, dismiss them." 
 
 "Impossible; I made an appointment with them yester- 
 day; it is the principal of the college of the Jesuits and the 
 superior of the Dominicans." 
 
 "Your staff? Well, so be it!" 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 "I will go and wake Porthos, and remain in his company 
 till you have finished the conference." 
 
 Aramis did not stir, his brow remained unbent, he be- 
 trayed himself by no gesture or word. "Go," said he, as 
 D'Artagnan advanced to the door. 
 
 "Apropos, do you know where Porthos sleeps?" 
 
 "No; but I can inquire." 
 
 "Take the corridor, and open the second door on the 
 left." 
 
 "Thank you! au revoir." And D'Artagnan departed in 
 the direction pointed out by Aramis. 
 
 Ten minutes had not passed away when he came back. 
 He found Aramis seated between the superior of the Dom- 
 inicans and the principal of the college of the Jesuits, ex- 
 actly in the same situation as he had found him formerly 
 in the auberge at Crevecoeur. This company did not at all 
 terrify the musketeer. 
 
 "What is it?" said Aramis quietly. "You have, ap- 
 parently, something to say to me, my friend." 
 
 "It is," replied D'Artagnan, fixing his eyes upon Aramis, 
 "it is that Porthos is not in his apartment." 
 
 "Indeed," said Aramis calmly; "are you sure?" 
 
 "Pardien! I came from his chamber." 
 
 "Where can he be, then?" 
 
 "That is what I ask you." 
 
 "And have not you inquired ?" 
 
 "Yes, I have." 
 
 "And what answer did you get?" 
 
 "That Porthos, often going out in a morning, without 
 saying anything, was probably gone out." 
 
 "What did you do, then?" 
 
 "I went to the stables," replied D'Artagnan carelessly. 
 
 "What to do?" 
 
 "To see if Porthos was gone out on horseback." 
 
 "And?" interrogated the bishop. 
 
 "Well, there is a horse missing; stall No. 3, Goliah." 
 
 All this dialogue, it may be easily understood, was Dot 
 
She vicomte de bragelonne. 479 
 
 exempt from a certain affectation on the part of the mus- 
 keteer and a perfect complaisance on the part of Aramis. 
 
 "Oh! I guess how it is," said Aramis, after having con- 
 sidered for a moment; "Porthos is gone out to give us a 
 ( surprise." 
 
 "A surprise?" 
 
 "Yes; the canal which goes from Vannes to the sea 
 abounds in teal and snipe; that is Porthos' favorite sport, 
 and he will bring us back a dozen for breakfast." 
 
 "Do you think so?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I am sure of it. Where else can he be? I would lay a 
 wager he took a gun with him." 
 
 "Well, that is possible," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "Do one thing, my friend. Get on horseback and join 
 him." 
 
 "You are right," said D'Artagnan, "I will." 
 
 "Shall I go with you?" 
 
 "No, thank you; Porthos is rather remarkable; I will 
 inquire as I go along." 
 
 "Will you take an arquebuse?" 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "Order what horse you like to be saddled." 
 
 "The one I rode yesterday, on coming from Belle-Isle." 
 
 "So be it; use the horse as your own." 
 
 Aramis rang, and gave orders to have the horse M. d Ar- 
 tagnan had chosen saddled. 
 
 D'Artagnan followed the servant charged with the ex- 
 ecution of this order. When arrived at the door, the serv- 
 ant drew oh one side to allow M. d'Artagnan to pass, and 
 at that moment he caught the eye of his master. A knit- 
 ting of the brow gave the intelligent spy to understand that 
 all should be given to D'Artagnan he wished. D'Artagnan 
 got into the saddle, and Aramis heard the steps of his horse 
 on the pavement. An instant after, the servant returned. 
 
 "Well?" asked the bishop. 
 
 "Monseigneur, he has followed the course of the canal, 
 and is going toward the sea," said the servant. 
 
 "Very well!" said Aramis. 
 
 In fact, D'Artagnan, dismissing all suspicion, hastened 
 toward the ocean, constantly hoping to see in the Landes, 
 or on the beach, the colossal profile of Porthos. He per- 
 sisted in fancying he could trace a horse's steps in every 
 puddle. Sometimes he imagined he heard the report of a 
 gun. This illusion lasted three hours; during two of them 
 he went forward in search of his friepd. in the last he re- 
 turned to the house. 
 
480 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOtfNE. 
 
 "We must have crossed," said he, "and I shall find them 
 waiting for me at table." 
 
 D'Artagnan was mistaken. He no more found Porthos 
 at the palace than he had found him on the seashore. 
 Aramis was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, look- 
 ing very much concerned. 
 
 "Did my people not find you, my dear D'Artagnan?" 
 eried he, as soon as he caught sight of the musketeer. 
 
 "No; did you send any one after me?" 
 
 "I am deeply concerned, my friend, deeply, to have in- 
 duced you to take such a useless search; but about seven 
 o'clock the almoner of St. Paterne came here. He had 
 met Du Valon, who was going away, and who, being unwill- 
 ing to disturb anybody at the palace, had charged him to 
 tell me that, fearing Monsieur Getard would play him some 
 ill turn in his absence, he was going to take advantage of 
 the morning tide to make a tour to Belle-Isle." 
 
 "But tell me; Goliah has not crossed the four leagues of 
 the sea, I should think." 
 
 "There are full six," said Aramis. 
 
 "That makes it less probable still." 
 
 "Therefore, my friend," said Aramis, with one of his 
 most bland smiles, "Goliah is in the stable, well pleased, I 
 will answer for it, that Porthos is no longer on his back." 
 In fact, the horse had been brought back from the relay by 
 the direction of the prelate, from whom no detail escaped. 
 D'Artagnan appeared as well satisfied as possible with the 
 explanation. He entered upon a part of dissimulation 
 which agreed perfectly with the suspicions that arose more 
 and more strongly in his mind. He breakfasted between 
 the Jesuit and Aramis, having the Dominican in front of 
 him, and smiling particularly at the Dominican, whose jolly 
 fat face pleased him much. The repast was long and 
 sumptuous; excellent Spanish wine, fine Morbitran oysters, 
 exquisite fish from the mouth of the Loire, enormous prawns 
 from Paimbceuf, and delicious game from the moors, con- 
 stituted the principal part of it. D'Artagnan eat much 
 and drank but little. Aramis drank nothing, unless it was 
 water. After the repast: 
 
 "You offered me an arquebuse," said D'Artagnan, 
 
 "I did." * 
 
 "Lend it me, then." 
 
 "Are you going shooting? 1 v 
 
 "While waiting for Porthos, it is the best thing 1 can do, 
 I think/' 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 481 
 
 "Take which you like from the trophy." 
 
 ''Will you not come with me?" 
 
 "I would with great pleasure; but, alas! my friend, sport- 
 ing is forbidden to bishops." 
 
 "Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "I did not know that." 
 
 "Besides," continued Aramis, "I shall be busy till mid- 
 day." 
 
 "I shall go alone then?" said D'Artagnan. 
 
 "I am sorry to say you must; but come back to dinner." 
 
 ii Pardieu 1 the eating at your house is too good to make 
 me think of not coming back. And thereupon D'Artagnan 
 quitted his host, bowed to the guests, and took his arque- 
 buse; but, instead of shooting, went straight to the little 
 port of Vannes. He looked in vain to observe if anybody 
 saw him; he could discern neither thing nor person. He 
 engaged a little fishing-boat for twenty-five livres, and set 
 off at half-past eleven, convinced that he had not been fol- 
 lowed; and that was true, he had not been followed; only 
 a Jesuit brother, placed in the top of the steeple of his 
 church, had not, since the morning, by the help of an excel- 
 lent glass, lost sight of one of his steps. At three-quarters 
 past eleven Aramis was informed that D'Artagnan was 
 sailing toward Belle-Isle. The voyage was rapid; a good 
 north-northeast wind drove him toward the isle. As he 
 approached, his eves were constantly fixed upon the coast. 
 He looked to see if, upon the shore or upon the fortifica- 
 tions, the brilliant dress and vast stature of Porthos should 
 stand out against a slightly clouded sky; but his search was 
 in vain. He landed without having seen anything, and 
 learned from the first soldier interrogated by him that M. 
 du Valon was not yet returned from Tannes. Then, with- 
 out losing an instant, D'Artagnan ordered his little bark to 
 put its head toward Sarzeau. We know that the wind 
 ckanges with the different hours of the day. The Avind had 
 gone round from the north-northeast to the southeast; the 
 wind, then, was almost as good for the return to Sarzeau as 
 it had been for the voyage to Belle-Isle. In three hours 
 D'Artagnan had touched the continent; two hours more 
 sufficed for his ride to Vannes. In spite of the rapidity of 
 his passage, what D'Artagnan endured of impatience and 
 anger during that short passage, the deck alone of the ves- 
 sel, upon which he stamped backward and forward for three 
 hours, could relate to history. He made but one bound 
 from the quay whereon he landed to the episcopal palace. 
 He thought to terrify Aramis by the promptitude of his 
 
482 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOKNE. 
 
 return; he wished to reproach him with his duplicity, and 
 yet with reserve, but with sufficient spirit, nevertheless, to 
 make him feel all the consequences of it, and force from 
 him a part of his secret. He hoped, in short — thanks to 
 that heat of expression which is to mysteries what the 
 charge with the bayonet is to redoubts — to bring the mys- 
 terious Aramis to some manifestation or other. But he 
 found, in the vestibule of the palace, the valet de chambre, 
 who closed the passage, while smiling upon him with a 
 stupid air. 
 
 "Monseigneur?" cried D'Artagnan, endeavoring to put 
 him aside with his hand. Moved for an instant, the valet 
 resumed his station. 
 
 "Monseigneur?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, to be sure; do you know me, imbecile?" 
 
 "Yes, you are the Chevalier d'Artagnan." 
 
 "Then let me pass." 
 
 "It is of no use." 
 
 "Why of no use?" 
 
 "Because his greatness is not at home." 
 
 '"What! his greatness is not at home? Where is he, 
 then?" 
 
 "Gone." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 • "Whither?" 
 
 "I don't know; but perhaps he tells Monsieur le 
 Chevalier." 
 
 "And how? where? in what fashion?" 
 
 "In this letter, which he gave me for Monsieur le Cheva- 
 lier." And the valet de chambre drew a letter from his 
 pocket. 
 
 "Give it me, then, you rascal," said D'Artagnan, 
 snatching it from his hand. "Oh, yes," continued he, at 
 the first line, "yes, I understand;" and he read: 
 
 "Dear Friend: An affair of the most urgent nature 
 calls me to a distant parish of my diocese. I hoped to see 
 you again before I set out; but I lose that hope in thinking 
 that you are going, no doubt, to remain two or three days 
 at Belle-Isle with our dear Porthos. Amuse yourself as 
 well as you can; but do not attempt to hold out against him 
 at table. This is a counsel I might have given even u) 
 Athos. in his most brilliant and best days. Adieu, de»r 
 iriend; believe that I regret greatly not having better, and 
 for a longer time, profited by vour excellent company." 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRA.GELONNE. 483 
 
 "Mordioux!" cried D'Artagnan. "I am tricked. Ah! 
 blockhead, brute, triple fool that I am! But let them 
 laugh who laugh last. Oh, duped, duped, like a monkey 
 cheated with an empty nutshell!" And with a hearty blow 
 bestowed upon the nose of the still grinning valet de cliam- 
 bre, he made all haste out of the episcopal palace. Furet, 
 however good a trotter, was not equal to present circum- 
 stances. D'Artagnan, therefore, took the post, and chose 
 a horse, which he made to understand, with good spurs and 
 a light hand, that stags are not the most agile creatures in 
 uature. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 IN WHICH D'ARTAGNAN MAKES ALL SPEED, PORTHOS SNORES, 
 AND ARAMIS COUNSELS. 
 
 From thirty to thirty-five hours after the events we have 
 just related, as M. Fouquet, according to his custom, hav- 
 ing interdicted his door, was working in the cabinet of his 
 house at St. Mande, with which we are already acquainted, 
 a carriage, drawn by four horses streaming with sweat, en- 
 tered the court at full gallop. This carriage was probably 
 expected; for three or four lackeys hastened to the door, 
 which they opened. While M. Fouquet rose from his 
 bureau and ran to the window, a man got painfully out of 
 the carriage, descending with difficulty the three steps of 
 the door, leaning upon the shoulders of his lackeys. He 
 had scarcely uttered his name, when the valet upon whom 
 he was not leaning sprang up the perron, and disappeared 
 in the vestibule. This man went to inform his master; but 
 he had no occasion to knock at the door; Fouquet was 
 standing on the threshold. 
 
 "Monseigneur, the Bishop of Vannes," said he. 
 
 "Very well!" replied his master. 
 
 Then, leaning over the baluster of the staircase, of which 
 Aramis was beginning to ascend the first steps: 
 
 "You, dear friend!" said he; "you, so soon!" 
 
 "Yes; I, myself, monsieur; but bruised, battered, as you 
 see." 
 
 "Oh! my poor dear friend," said Fouquet, presenting 
 him his arm, upon which Aramis leaned, while the servants 
 drew back with respect. 
 
484 THE VICOMTE HE BRAOELONNE. c 
 
 "Bah!" replied Aram is, "it is nothing, since I am here; 
 the principal thing was that I should get here, and here I 
 am." 
 
 "Speak quickly," said Fouquet, closing the door of the 
 cabinet behind Aramis and himself. 
 
 "Are we alone?" 
 
 "Yes, perfectly." 
 
 "No one can listen to us? no one can hear us?" 
 
 "Be satisfied; nobody." 
 
 "Is Monsieur du Valon arrived?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you have received my letter?" 
 
 "Yes. The affair is serious, apparently, since it necessi- 
 tates your presence in Paris, at a moment when your pres- 
 ence was so urgent elsewhere." 
 
 "You are right; it cannot be more serious." 
 
 "Thank you! thank you! What is it about? But, for 
 God's sake! before anything else, take time to breathe, 
 dear friend. You are so pale, you frighten me." 
 
 "I am really in great pain. But, for Heaven's sake, 
 think nothing about me. Did Monsieur du Valon tell you 
 nothing when he delivered the letter to you?" 
 
 "No. I heard a great noise; I went to the window; I 
 saw at the feet of the perron a sort of horseman of marble; 
 I went down, he held the letter out to me, and his horse 
 fell down dead." 
 
 ""But he?" 
 
 "He fell with the horse; he was lifted up, and carried to 
 an apartment. Having read the letter, I went up to him, 
 in hopes of obtaining more ample information; but he was 
 asleep, and after such a fashion that it was impossible to 
 wake him. I took pity on him; I gave orders that his 
 boots should be taken off, and that he should be left quite 
 undisturbed." 
 
 "So far well; now, this is the question in hand, mon- 
 seigneur. You have seen Monsieur d'Artagnan in Paris, 
 have you not?" 
 
 "Certes, and think him a man of intelligence, and even a 
 man of heart, although he did bring about the death of our 
 dear friends Lyodot and D'Eymeris." 
 
 "Alas! yes, I heard of that. At Tours I met the courier 
 who was bringing me the letter from Gourville and the dis- 
 patches from Pellisson. Have you seriously reflected on 
 that event, monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes" 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOSHSTE. 485 
 
 "And in it you perceived a direct attack upon your 
 sovereignty?" 
 
 "And do you believe it to ba so?'' 
 
 "Oh, yes, I think so." 
 
 "Well, I must confess, that sad idea occurred to me like- 
 wise." 
 
 "Do not blind yourself, monsieur, in the name of Heaven! 
 Listen attentively to me. I return to D'Artagnan." 
 
 "I am all attention." 
 
 "Under what circumstances did you see him?" 
 
 "He came here for monev." 
 
 "With what kind of order?" 
 
 "With an order from the king." 
 
 "Direct?" 
 
 "Signed by his majesty." 
 
 "There, then! Well, D'Artagnan has been to Belle-Isle; 
 he was disguised; he came in the character of some sort of 
 an intendant, charged by his master to purchase salt mines. 
 Now, D'Artagnan has no other master but the king; he 
 came, then, sent by the king. He saw Porthos." 
 
 "Who is Porthos?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I made a mistake. He saw Mon- 
 sieur du Valon at Belle-Isle; and he knows, as well as you 
 and I do, that Belle-Isle is fortified." 
 
 "And you think that the king sent him there?" said Fe v 
 quet pensively. 
 
 "I certainly do." 
 
 "And D'Artagnan, in the hands of the king, is a danger- 
 ous instrument?" 
 
 "The most dangerous imaginable." 
 
 "Then I formed a correct opinion of him at the first 
 glance." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "I wished to attach him to myself." 
 
 "If you judged him to be the bravest, the most acute, 
 .and the most adroit man in France, you have judged 
 correctly." 
 
 "He must be had, then, at any price." 
 
 "D'Artagnan?" 
 
 "Is not that your opinion?" 
 
 "It may be my opinion, but you will never have him." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because we have allowed the time to go by. He was 
 dissatisfied with the court, we should have profited by that; 
 since that, he has passed into England; there he powerfully 
 
486 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONXE. 
 
 assisted in the restoration, there he gained a fortune, and, 
 after all, he returned to the service of the king. Well, ii 
 he has returned to the service of the king, it is because he 
 has been well paid in that service." 
 
 "We will pay him still better, that is all." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur! excuse me; D'Artagnan has a high sense 
 of his word, and where that word is once engaged, that 
 word remains where it is." 
 
 "What do you conclude, then?" said Fouquet, with great 
 inquietude. 
 
 "At present, the principal thing is to parry a dangerous 
 blow." 
 
 "And how is it to be parried?" 
 
 "Listen." 
 
 "But D'Artagnan will come and render an account to the 
 king of his mission." 
 
 "Oh, we have time enough to think about that." 
 
 "How so? You are much in advance of him, I presume?" 
 
 "Nearly ten hours." 
 
 "Well, in ten hours " 
 
 Aramis shook his pale head. "Look at these clouds 
 which flit across the heavens, at these swallows which cut 
 the air, D'Artagnan moves more quickly than the clouds 
 or the birds; D'Artagnan is the wind which carries them." 
 
 "A strange man!" 
 
 "I tell you, he is something superhuman, monsieur. He 
 is of my age, and I have known him these five-and-thirty 
 years." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, listen to my calculation, monsieur. I sent Mon- 
 sieur du Valon off to you two hours after midnight. Mon- 
 sieur du Valon was eight hours in advance of me; when did 
 Monsieur du Valon arrive?" 
 
 "About four hours ago." 
 
 "You see, then, that I gained four upon him; and yet 
 Porthos is a stanch horseman, and he has left on the road 
 eight dead horses, whose bodies I came to successively. 1 
 rode post fifty leagues; but I have the gout, the gravel, and 
 what else I know not; so that fatigue kills me. I was 
 obliged to dismount at Tours; since that, rolling along in a 
 carriage, half-dead, sometimes overturned, often drawn 
 upon the sides, and sometimes on the back of the carriage, 
 always with four spirited horses at full gallop, I have 
 arrived — arrived, gaining four hours upon Porthos; but, 
 see you, D'Artagnan does not weigh three hundred-weight, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 487 
 
 as Porthos does; D'Artugnan has not the gout and gravel, 
 as I have; he is not a horseman, he is a centaur. D'Artag- 
 nan, see you, set out- for Belle- isle when I set out for Paris; 
 and D'Artagnan, notwithstanding my ten hours' advance, 
 D'Artagnan will arrive within two hours after me." 
 
 "But, then, accidents?" 
 
 "He never meets with any accidents." 
 
 "Horses may fail him." 
 
 "He will run as fast as a horse." 
 
 "Good God! what a man!" 
 
 "Yes, he is a man whom I love and admire. I love him 
 because he is good, great, and loyal; I admire him because 
 he represents with me the culminating: point of human 
 powers; but, while loving and admiring him, I fear him, 
 and am on my guard against him. Now, then, I resume, 
 monsieur; in two hours D'Artagnan will be here; be before 
 hand with him. Go to the Louvre, and see the king before 
 he sees D'Artagnan." 
 
 "What shall I say to the king?" 
 
 "Nothing; give him Belle-Isle." 
 
 "Oh! Monsieur d'Herblay! Monsieur d'Herblay!" cried 
 Fouqr>et, "what projects crushed all at once!" 
 
 "After one project that has failed there i« always another 
 project which may lead to good; we should never despair. 
 Go, monsieur, and go quickly." 
 
 "But that garrison, so carefully chosen, the king will 
 change it directly." 
 
 "That garrison, monsieur, was the king'b when it entered 
 Belle-Isle; it is yours now; it will be the same wi f h all gar- 
 risons after a fortnight's occupation. Let things go on, 
 monsieur. Do you see any inconvenience in having an 
 army at the end of. a year, instead of two regiments? Do 
 you not see that your garrison of to-day will make you 
 partisans at La Eochelle, Nantes, Bordeaux, Toulouse — in 
 short, wherever they may be sen 4 to? Go to the king. 
 monsieur, go; time flies, and D'Artagnan, while we are los- 
 ing time, is flying like an arrow along the highroad." 
 
 "Monsieur d'Herblay, you know that each word from you 
 is a germ which fructifies in my thoughts. 1 will go to 
 the Louvre." 
 
 "Instantly, will you not?" 
 
 "I only ask time tc change my dress." 
 
 "Eemember that D Artagnan has no need to pass through 
 St. Mande, but will go straight to the Louvre; that is cut 
 ting off an hour from the advance which remains to us." 
 
488 THE VICOMTE DE BKAOELOXNE. 
 
 "D'Artagnan may have everything except my English 
 horse?, i shall be at the Louvre in twenty-five minutes.*' 
 And without losing a second, Fouquet gave orders for his 
 departure. 
 
 Aramis had only time to say to him, "Return as quickly 
 as you go; for I shall await you impatiently.'' 
 
 Five minutes after, the surintendant was Hying along the 
 road to Paris. During this time Aramis desired to be 
 shown the chamber in which Porthos was sleeping. At the 
 door of Fouquet's cabinet he was folded in the arms of Pel- 
 lisson, who had just heard of his arrival, and had left his 
 office to see him. Aramis received, with that friendly dig- 
 nity which he knew so well how to assume, those caresses 
 as respectful as earnest; but, all at once stopping on the 
 knding-place, ''What is that I hear up yonder?'"' 
 
 "There was, in fact, a hoarse, growling kind of noise, 
 like the roar of a hungry tiger or an impatient lion. "Oh, 
 that is nothing," said Pellisson, smiling. 
 
 "Well; but " 
 
 "It is Monsieur du Valon snoring." 
 
 "Ah! true," said Aramis; "I had forgotten. No one but 
 he is capable of making such a noise. Allow me, Pellisson, 
 to inquire if he wants anything." 
 -"And you will permit me to accompany you?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly;" and both entered the chamber. Porthos 
 was stretched upon the bed; his face was violet rather than 
 red; his eyes were swelled; his mouth was w 7 ide open. The 
 roaring which escaped from the deep cavities of his chest 
 made the glass of the windows vibrate. To those developed 
 and clearly defined muscles starting from his face, to his 
 hair matted with sw'eat, to the energetic heaving of his chin 
 and shoulders, it was impossible to refuse a certain degree 
 of admiration. Strength carried to this point is almost 
 divinity. The Herculean legs and feet of Porthos had, by 
 swelling, burst his leather boots; all the strength of his 
 enormous body was converted into the rigidity of stone. 
 Porthos moved no more than does the giant of granite 
 which reclines upon the plains of Agrigentum. According 
 to Pellisson's orders, his boots had been cut off, for no 
 human power could have pulled them off. Four lackeys 
 had tried in vain, pulling at them as they would have pulled 
 capstans; and yet all this did not awaken him. They had 
 taken off his boots in fragments, and his legs had fallen 
 back upon the bed. They then cut off the rest of his 
 clothes, carried him to a bath, in which they let him lie 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 489 
 
 a considerable time. They then put on him clean linen, 
 and placed him in a well-warmed bed — the whole with 
 efforts and pains which might have roused a dead man, but 
 which did not make Porthos open an eye, or interrupt for a 
 second the formidable organ of his snoring. Aramis wished, 
 on his part, with a dry, nervous nature, armed with extra- 
 ordinary courage, to outbrave fatigue, and employ himself 
 with Gourville and Pellisson, but he fainted in the chair, iu 
 which he had persisted to remain. He was carried into the 
 adjoining room, where the repose cf bed soon calmed his 
 throbbing brain. 
 
 CHAPTER L'XXV. 
 
 IN WHICH MONSIEUR FOUQUET ACTS. 
 
 In the meantime Fouquet was hastening to the Louvre 
 at the best speed of his English horses. The king was at 
 work with Colbert. All at once the king became thought- 
 ful. The two sentences of death he had signed on mount- 
 ing his throne sometimes recurred to his memory; they 
 were two black spots which he saw with his eyes open; two 
 spots of blood which he saw when his eyes were closed. 
 "Monsieur," said he, rather sharply, to the intendant, "it 
 sometimes seems to me that those two men you made me 
 condemn were not very great culprits." 
 
 "Sire, they were picked out from the herd of the farmers 
 of the financiers, which wanted decimating." 
 
 "Picked out by whom?" 
 
 "By necesity, sire," replied Colbert coldly. 
 
 "Necessity! a great word," murmured the young king. 
 
 iC A great goddess, sire." 
 
 "They were devoted friends of the surintendant, were 
 they not?" 
 
 "Yes, sire; friends who would have given their lives to 
 Monsieur .Fouquet." 
 
 "They have given them, monsieur," said the king. 
 
 "That is true; but uselessly, by good luck, which was not 
 their intention." 
 
 "How much money had these men fraudulently ob- 
 tained?" 
 
 "Ten millions, perhaps: of «'hich six have been con- 
 fiscated." 
 
490 THE VTCOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "And is that money in my coffers?" said the king, with a 
 certain air of repugnance. 
 
 "It is there, sire; but this confiscation, while threatening 
 Monsieur Fouquet, has not touched him." 
 
 "You conclude, then, Monsieur Colbert " 
 
 "That if Monsieur Fouquet has raised against your 
 majesty a troop of factious rioters to extricate his friends 
 from punishment, he will raise an army when he shall have 
 to extricate himself from punishment." 
 
 The king darted at his confidant one of those looks which 
 resemble the red fire of a stormy flash of lightning, one of 
 chose looks which illuminate the darkness of the deepest 
 consciences. "I am astonished," said he, "that, thinking 
 such things of Monsieur Fouquet, you did not come to give 
 me your counsels thereupon." 
 
 "Counsels upon what, sire?" 
 
 "Tell me, in the first place, clearly and precisely, what 
 you think, Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "Upon what subject, sire?" 
 
 "Upon the conduct of Monsieur Fouquet." 
 
 "I think, sire, that Monsieur Fouquet, not satisfied Avith 
 attracting all the money to himself, as Monsieur Mazarin 
 did, and by that means depriving your majesty of one part 
 of your power, still wishes to attract to himself all the 
 friends of easy life and pleasures — of what idlers call poetry, 
 and politicians corruption. I think that, by holding the 
 subjects of your majesty in pay, he trespasses upon the 
 royal prerogative, and cannot, if this continues so, be long 
 in placing your majesty among the weak and obscure." 
 
 "How would you qualify all these projects, Monsieur 
 Colbert?" 
 
 "The projects of Monsieur Fouquet, sire?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "They are called crimes of Use majeste." 
 
 "And what is done to criminals guilty of Use majestS?" 
 
 "They are arrested, tried, and punished." 
 
 "You are quite sure that Monsieur Fouquet has conceived 
 the idea of the crime you impute to him?" 
 
 "I can say more, sire; there is even a commencement of 
 the execution of it." 
 
 "Well, then, I return to that which I was saying, Mon- 
 sieur Colbert." 
 
 "And you were saying, sire?" 
 
 "Give me counsel." 
 
 "Pardon me, sire; but, in the first place, I have some- 
 thing to a,^ " '' ~~ 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELOXNB. 491 
 
 "Say -what?" 
 
 "An evident, palpable, material proof of treason." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "I have just learned that Monsieur Fouquet is fortifying 
 Belle-Isle." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Perfectly. Do you know, sire, what soldiers there are 
 at Belle-Isle?" 
 
 "No, ma foi ! D o y ou ?' * 
 
 "I am ignorant likewise, sire; I should therefore propose 
 to your majesty to send somebody to Belle-Isle." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Me, for instance." 
 
 "And what would you do at Belle-Isle?" 
 
 "Inform myself whether, after the example of the ancient 
 feudal lords, Monsieur Fouquet was embattlementing his 
 walls." 
 
 "And with what purpose could he do that?" 
 
 "With the purpose of defending himself some day against 
 his king." 
 
 "But, if it be thus, Monsieur Colbert," said Louis, "we 
 must immediately do as you say. Monsieur Fouquet must 
 be arrested." 
 
 "That is impossible." 
 
 "I thought I had already told you, monsieur, that I sup- 
 pressed that word in my service." 
 
 "The service of your majesty cannot prevent Monsieur 
 Fouquet from being surintendant-general." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "That, in consequence of holding that post, he has for 
 him all the parliament, as he has all the army by his larges- 
 ses, all literature by his favors, and all the noblesse by his 
 presents." 
 
 "That is to say, then, that I can do nothing against Mon- 
 sieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "Absolutely nothing — at least, at present, sire." 
 
 "You are a sterile counselor, Monsieur Colbert." 
 
 "Oh, no, sire; for I will not confine myself to pointing 
 out the peril to your majesty." 
 
 "Come, then, where shall we begin to undermine the 
 Colossus; let Us see;" and his majesty began to laugh with 
 bitterness. 
 
 "He has grown great by money; kill him by monev, 
 niro," 
 
492 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 "It' I were to deprive him of his charge?" 
 
 "A bad means, sire.'* 
 
 "The good— the good, then V* . 
 
 "Ruin him, sire; that is the way." 
 
 "But how?'* 
 
 "Occasions will not be wanting, take advantage of all 
 occasions." 
 
 "Point them out to me." 
 
 "Here is one at once. His Royal Highness Monsieur is 
 about to be married; his nuptials must be magnificent. 
 That is a good occasion for your majesty to demand a mil- 
 Sion of Monsieur Fouquet. Monsieur Fouquet, who pays 
 twenty thousand livres down, when he need not pay more 
 than five thousand, will easily find that million when your 
 majesty shall demand it." 
 
 "That is all very well; I will demand it," said Louis. 
 
 "If your majesty will sign the ordonnance, I will have 
 the money taken myself." And Colbert pushed a paper 
 before the king, and presented a pen to him. 
 
 At that moment the usher opened the door and announced 
 Monsieur le Surintendant. Louis turned pale. Colbert 
 let the pen fall, and drew back from the king, over whom 
 he extended his black wings of a bad angel. The surin- 
 tendant made his entrance like a man of the court, to whom 
 a single glance was sufficient to make him appreciate his 
 situation. That situation was not very encouraging for 
 Fouquet, wha f ever might be the consciousness of his 
 strength. The small black eye of Colbert, dilated by envy, 
 and the limpid eve of Louis XIV., inflamed by anger, sig- 
 naled a pressing danger. Courtiers are, with regard to 
 court rumors, like old soldiers, who distinguish through 
 blasts of wind and moaning of leaves the sound of the dis- 
 tant step of an armed troop. They can, after having lis- 
 tened, tell pretty nearly how many men are marching, how 
 many arms resound, how many cannons roll. Fouquet had, 
 then, only to interrogate the silence which his arrival had 
 produced; he found it big Avith menacing revelations. The 
 king allowed him quite time enough to advance as far as 
 the middle of the chamber. His adolescent modesty com- 
 manded this forbearance of the moment. Fouquet boldly 
 seized the opportunty. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "I was impatient to see vour majesty.'' 
 
 "What for?" asked Louis. 
 
 "To announce some good news to you." 
 
 Colbert, in grandeur of person, legs lameness oi heart, 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 493 
 
 resembled Fouquet in many points. The same penetration, 
 the same knowledge of men. Moreover, that great power 
 of contraction which gives to hypocrites time to reflect, 
 and gather themselves up to take a spring. He guessed 
 that Fouquet was going to meet the blow he was about to 
 deal him. His eyes sparkled. 
 
 "What news?" asked the king. Fouquet placed a roll of 
 papers on the table. 
 
 "Let your majesty have the goodness to cast your eyes 
 over this work," said he. The king slowly unfolded the 
 paper. 
 
 "Plans?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "And what are these plans?" 
 
 "A new fortification, sire." 
 
 "Ah, ah!" said the king, "you amuse yourself with 
 tactics and strategies then, Monsieur Fouquet?" 
 
 "I occupy myself with everything that may be useful to 
 the reign of your majesty," replied Fouquet. 
 
 "Beautiful descriptions!" said the king, looking at the 
 design. 
 
 "Your majesty comprehends, without doubt," said Fou- 
 quet, bending over the paper; "here is the circle of the 
 walls, here are the forts, there the advanced works." 
 
 "And what do I see here, monsieur?" 
 
 "The sea." 
 
 "The sea all round?" 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "And what is, then, this place of which you show me the 
 plans?" 
 
 "Sire, it is Belle-Isle-en-Mer," replied Fouquet, with 
 simplicity. 
 
 At this word, at this name, Colbert made so marked a 
 movement that the king turned round to enforce the neces- 
 sity for reserve. Fouquet did not appear to be the least in 
 the world concerned by the movement of Colbert or the 
 king's signal. 
 
 "Monsieur," continued Louis, "you have then fortified 
 Belle-Isle?" 
 
 "Yes, sire; and I have brought the plan and the accounts 
 to 3'our majesty," replied Fouquet; "I have expended six- 
 teen hundred thousand livres in this operation." 
 
 "What to do?" replied Louis coldly, having taken the 
 initiative from a malicious look of the intendant. 
 
494 THE VICOMTE DE BRA«ELONNE. 
 
 "For an aim very easy to seize," replied Fouquet. "Yovi 
 majesty was on cool terms with Great Britain. 
 
 "Yes; but since the restoration of King Charles II. I 
 have formed an alliance with him." 
 
 "A month since, sire, your majesty has truly said; but \ 
 is more than six months since the fortifications of BeP'*- 
 lsle have been begun." 
 
 "Then they have become useless." 
 
 "Sire, fortifications are never useless. I fortified Belle* 
 Isle against Messieurs Monk and Lambert, and all those 
 London citizens who were playing at soldiers. Belle-Isle 
 will be ready fortified against the Dutch, against whom 
 either England or your majesty cannot fail to make war." 
 
 The king was again silent, and looked under at Colbert. 
 
 "Belle-Isle, I believe," added Louis, "is yours, Monsieui 
 Fouquet?" 
 
 "No, sire." 
 
 "Whose then?" 
 
 "Your majesty's." 
 
 Colbert was seized with as much terror as if a gulf had 
 opened beneath his feet. Louis started with admiration, 
 either at the genius or the devotion of Fouquet. 
 
 "Explain yourself, monsieur," said he. 
 
 "Nothing more easy, sire. Belle-Isle is one of my estates; 
 I have fortified it at my own expense. But as nothing in 
 the world can oppose a subject making an humble present 
 to his king, I offer your majesty the proprietorship of the 
 estate, of which you will leave me the usufruct. Belle-Isle, 
 as a place of war, ought to be occupied by the king. Your 
 majesty will be able, henceforth, to keep a safe garrison 
 there." 
 
 Colbert felt almost sinking down upon the floor. To keep 
 himself from falling he was obliged to hold by the columns 
 of the wainscoting. 
 
 "This is a piece of great skill in the art of war that you 
 have exhibited here, monsieur," said Louis. 
 
 "Sire, the initiative did not come from me," replied Fou- 
 quet; "many officers have inspired me with it. The plans 
 themselves have been made by one of the most distinguished 
 engineers." 
 
 "His name?" 
 
 "Monsieur du Valon." 
 
 "Monsieur du Valon?" resumed Louis; "I do not know 
 him. It is much to be lamented, Monsieur Colbert," con- 
 tinued he, "that 1 do not know the names of the men of 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 405 
 
 talent who do honor to my reign." And while saying obese 
 words he turned toward Colbert. The latter felt himself 
 crushed, the sweat flowed from his brow, no word presented 
 itself to his lips, he suffered an inexpressible martyrdom. 
 "'You will recollect that name," added Louis XIV. 
 
 Colbert bowed, but was paler than his ruffles of Flemish 
 lace. Fouquet continued: 
 
 "The masonries are of Koman mastic; the architects have 
 composed it for me after the best accounts of antiquity." 
 
 "And the cannon?" asked Louis. 
 
 "Oh! sire, that concerns your majesty; it did not becom© 
 ne to place cannon in my own house, unless your majesty 
 lad told me it was yours." 
 
 Louis began to float, undetermined, between the hatred 
 which this so powerful man inspired him with, and the pity 
 he felt for that other man, so cast down, who seemed to 
 nim the counterfeit of the former. But the consciousness 
 of his kingly duty prevailed over the feelings of the man, 
 and he stretched out his finger to the paper. 
 
 "It must have cost you a great deal of money to carry 
 these plans into execution," said he. 
 
 "I believe I had the honor of telling your majesty the 
 amount?" 
 
 "Repeat it, if you please; I have forgotten it." 
 
 "Sixteen hundred thousand livres." 
 
 "Sixteen hundred thousand livres; you are enormously 
 Hch J monsieur." 
 
 "It is your majesty who is rich, since Belle-Isle is yours." 
 
 "Yes, thank you; but however rich I may be, Monsieur 
 Fouquet — " The king stopped. 
 
 "Well, sire?" asked the surintendant. 
 
 "I foresee the moment when I shall want money.' 
 
 "You, sire? And at what moment, then?" 
 
 "To-morrow, for example." 
 
 "Will your majesty do me the honor to explain yourself?" 
 
 "My brother is going to marry the princess of England. 5 
 
 "Well, sire?" 
 
 "Well, I ought to give the young princess a reception 
 worthy of the granddaughter of Henry IV." 
 
 "That is but just, sire." 
 
 "Then I shall want money." 
 
 "No doubt." 
 
 "I shall want — " Louis hesitated. The sum he was 
 going to demand was the same that he had been obliged to 
 
496 THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. 
 
 refuse Charles II. He turned toward Colbert, that he might 
 give the blow. 
 
 "I shall want to-morrow — " repeated he, looking at 
 Colbert. 
 
 "A million," said the latter bluntly, delighted to take 
 his revenge. Fouquet turned his back upon the intendant 
 to listen to the king. He did not at all turn round, but 
 waited till the king repeated, or rather murmured, "a mil 
 lion." 
 
 "Oh, sire!" replied Fouquet disdainfully, "a million. 
 What will your majesty do with a million?" 
 
 "It appears to me, nevertheless — " said Louis XIV. 
 
 "That is not more than is spent at the nuptials of one of 
 the most petty princes of Germany." 
 
 "Monsieur!" 
 
 "Your majesty must have two millions at least. The 
 horses alone would run away with five hundred thousand 
 livres. I shall have the honor of sending your majesty six- 
 teen hundred thousand livres this evening." 
 
 "How," said the king, "sixteen hundred thousand 
 livres?" 
 
 "Look, sire," replied Fcuquet, without even turning 
 toward Colbert, "I know that that wat'b four hundred 
 thousand livres of the two millions. Bu' tnis Monsieur 
 l'lntendance" — pointing over his shoulder to Colbert, who, 
 if possible, became paler, behind him — "has is his coffers 
 nine hundred thousand livres of mine " 
 
 The king turned round to look at Colbert. 
 
 "But — " said the latter. 
 
 "Monsieur," continued Fouquet, still speaking indirectly 
 to Colbert,"monsieur has received, a week ago, sixteen hun- 
 dred thousand livres; he has paid a hundred thousand livres 
 to the guards, sixty-four thousand livres to the hospitals, 
 twenty-five thousand to the Swiss, a hundred and thirty 
 thousand for provisions, a thousand for arms, ten thousand 
 for incidental expenses; I do not err, then, in reckoning 
 upon nine hundred thousand livres that are left." Thci 
 turning toward Colbert, like a disdainful head of office 
 toward his inferior, "Take care, monsieur," said he, "that 
 those nine hundred thousand livres be remitted to his 
 majesty this evening, in gold." 
 
 "But," said the king, "that will make two millions fhe 
 hundred thousand livres." 
 
 "Sire, the five hundred thousand livres over may serv* 1 "* 
 
THE VICOMTE DE BRAG ELONNE. 497 
 
 pocket money for his royal highness. You understand, 
 Monsieur Colbert, this evening before eight o'clock. " 
 
 And with these words, bowing respectfully to the king, 
 the surintendant made his exit backward, without honoring 
 with a single look the envious man whose head he had, just 
 half-shaved. 
 
 Colbert tore his ruffles to pieces in his rage, and bit his 
 lips till they bled. 
 
 Fouquet had not passed the door of the cabinet, when an 
 usher, pushing by him, exclaimed: "A courier from Bre- 
 tagne for his majestj'." 
 
 "Monsieur d'Herblay was right," murmured Fouquet, 
 pulling out his watch; "an hour and fifty-five minutes. It 
 was quite truel" 
 
 rm bto, 
 
 Note.— For the information of the reader, Dumas' Histories.] 
 Romances should be read in their chronological order as follows: 1st, 
 The Three Guardsmen; 2d, Twenty Years After; 3d, The Vicomte 
 ie Bragelonne; 4th, Ten Years Later, 5th, Louise de la Valliere; 60^ 
 l^he Man in the Iron Mask *~ 
 
' 
 
 ,V . ' 
 
 
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