Les Quarante-cinq. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XXII.

  THE LESSON.

  Fencing was not at that time the science that it is now. The swords,sharp on each side, made them strike as often with the edge as with thepoint; besides, the left hand, armed with a dagger, was at the same timeoffensive and defensive, and hence resulted a number of slight wounds,which, in a real combat, kept up a continual excitement. Fencing, thenin its infancy, consisted in a crowd of evolutions, in which the actormoved continually, and which, on a ground chosen by chance, might becontinually impeded by its nature.

  It was common to see the fencer throw himself forward, draw back again,or jump to the right or left, so that agility, not only of the hand, butof the whole body, was necessary. Chicot did not appear to have learnedin this school, but seemed to have forestalled the modern style, ofwhich the superiority and grace is in the agility of the hands andimmovability of the body. He stood erect and firm, with a wrist at oncestrong and supple, and with a sword which seemed a flexible reed fromthe point to the middle of the blade, and an inflexible steel fromthence to the guard.

  At the very first commencement, Jacques, seeing before him this man ofbronze, whose wrist alone seemed alive, gave some impatient passes,which merely made Chicot extend his arm, and at every opening left bythe young man, strike him full on the chest. Jacques, red with anger andemulation as this was repeated, bounded back, and for ten minutesdisplayed all the resources of his wonderful agility--he flew like atiger, twisted like a serpent, and bounded from right to left; butChicot, with his calm air and his long arm, seized his time, and puttingaside his adversary's sword, still sent his own to the same place, whileBorromee grew pale with anger. At last, Jacques rushed a last time onChicot, who, parrying his thrust with force, threw the poor fellow offhis equilibrium, and he fell, while Chicot himself remained firm as arock.

  "You did not tell us you were a pillar," said Borromee, biting his nailswith vexation.

  "I, a poor bourgeois!" said Chicot.

  "But, monsieur, to manage a sword as you do, you must have practicedenormously."

  "Oh! mon Dieu! yes, monsieur, I have often held the sword, and havealways found one thing."--"What is that?"

  "That for him who holds it, pride is a bad counselor and anger a badassistant. Now, listen, Jacques," added he: "you have a good wrist, butneither legs nor head; you are quick, but you do not reason. There arethree essential things in arms--first the head, then the hands and legs:with the one you can defend yourself, with the others you may conquer,but with all three you can always conquer."

  "Ah! monsieur," said Jacques, "try Brother Borromee; I should like tosee it."

  "No," said the treasurer, "I should be beaten, and I would ratherconfess it than prove it."

  "How modest and amiable he is!" said Gorenflot.

  "On the contrary," whispered Chicot, "he is stupid with vanity. At hisage I would have given anything for such a lesson," and he sat downagain.

  Jacques approached him, and admiration triumphing over the shame ofdefeat:

  "Will you give me some lessons, M. Briquet?" said he; "the prior willpermit it, will you not, your reverence?"

  "With pleasure, my child."

  "I do not wish to interfere with your master," said Chicot, bowing toBorromee.

  "Oh! I am not his only master," said he. "Neither all the honor nor thedefeat are wholly due to me."

  "Who is the other, then?"

  "Oh! no one!" cried Borromee, fearing he had committed an imprudence.

  "Who is he, Jacques?" asked Chicot.

  "I remember," said Gorenflot; "he is a little fat man who comes heresometimes and drinks well."

  "I forget his name," said Borromee.

  "I know it," said a monk who was standing by. "It is Bussy Leclerc."

  "Ah! a good sword," said Chicot.

  Jacques reiterated his request.

  "I cannot teach you," said Chicot. "I taught myself by reflection andpractice; and I advise you to do the same."

  Gorenflot and Chicot now returned to the house.

  "I hope," said Gorenflot, with pride, "that this is a house worthsomething, and well managed."

  "Wonderful! my friend; and when I return from my mission--"

  "Ah! true, dear M. Chicot; let us speak of your mission."

  "So much the more willingly, that I have a message to send to the kingbefore I go."

  "To the king, my dear friend! You correspond with the king?"

  "Directly."

  "And you want a messenger?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you have one of our monks? It would be an honor to the priory."

  "Willingly."

  "Then you are restored to favor?"

  "More than ever."

  "Then," said Gorenflot, "you can tell the king all that we are doinghere in his favor."

  "I shall not fail to do so."

  "Ah! my dear Chicot," cried Gorenflot, who already believed himself abishop.

  "But first I have two requests to make."

  "Speak."

  "First, money, which the king will restore to you."

  "Money! I have my coffers full."

  "Ma foi! you are lucky."

  "Will you have 1,000 crowns?"

  "No, that is far too much; I am modest in my tastes, humble in mydesires, and my title of ambassador does not make me proud; therefore100 crowns will suffice."

  "Here they are; and the second thing?"

  "An attendant!"

  "An attendant?"

  "Yes, to accompany me; I love society."

  "Ah! my friend, if I were but free, as formerly."

  "But you are not."

  "Greatness enslaves me," murmured Gorenflot.

  "Alas!" said Chicot, "one cannot do everything at once. But not beingable to have your honorable company, my dear prior, I will contentmyself with that of the little Jacques; he pleases me."

  "You are right, Chicot, he is a rare lad."

  "I am going to take him 250 leagues, if you will permit it."

  "He is yours, my friend."

  The prior struck a bell, and when the servant appeared said, "LetBrother Jacques come here, and also our messenger."

  Ten minutes after both appeared at the door.

  "Jacques," said Gorenflot, "I give you a special mission."

  "Me!" cried the young man, astonished.

  "Yes, you are to accompany M. Robert Briquet on a long journey."

  "Oh!" cried he, enthusiastically, "that will be delightful. We shallfight every day--shall we not, monsieur?"

  "Yes, my child."

  "And I may take my arquebuse?"

  "Certainly."

  Jacques bounded joyfully from the room.

  "As to the message, I beg you to give your orders. Advance, BrotherPanurge."