CHAPTER XII.
PLANCHET'S COUNTRY-HOUSE.
The cavaliers looked up, and saw that what Planchet had announced tothem was true. Ten minutes afterward they were in the street called theRue de Lyon, on the opposite side of the inn of the sign of the "BeauPaon." A high hedge of bushy alders, hawthorn, and wild hops, formed animpenetrable fence, behind which rose a white house, with a large tiledroof. Two of the windows, which were quite dark, looked upon the street.Between the two, a small door, with a porch supported by a couple ofpillars, formed the entrance to the house. The door was gained by a stepraised a little from the ground. Planchet got off his horse, as if heintended to knock at the door; but, on second thoughts, he took hold ofhis horse by the bridle, and led it about thirty paces further on, histwo companions following him. He then advanced about another thirtypaces, until he arrived at the door of a cart-house, lighted by an irongrating; and, lifting up a wooden latch, pushed open one of thefolding-doors. He entered first, leading his horse after him by thebridle, into a small courtyard, where an odor met them which revealedtheir close vicinity to a stable. "That smells all right," said Porthosloudly, getting off his horse, "and I almost begin to think I am near myown cows at Pierrefonds."
"I have only one cow," Planchet hastened to say, modestly.
"And I have thirty," said Porthos; "or, rather, I don't exactly know howmany I have."
When the two cavaliers had entered, Planchet fastened the door behindthem. In the meantime, D'Artagnan, who had dismounted with his usualagility, inhaled the fresh perfumed air with the delight a Parisianfeels at the sight of green fields and fresh foliage, plucked a piece ofhoneysuckle with one hand, and of sweet-briar with the other. Porthoshad laid hold of some peas which were twined round poles stuck into theground, and ate, or rather browsed upon them, shells and all; andPlanchet was busily engaged trying to wake up an old and infirm peasant,who was fast asleep in a shed, lying on a bed of moss, and dressed in anold stable suit of clothes. The peasant, recognizing Planchet, calledhim "the master" to the grocer's great satisfaction. "Stable the horseswell, old fellow, and you shall have something good for yourself," saidPlanchet.
"Yes, yes; fine animals they are, too," said the peasant. "Oh! theyshall have as much as they like."
"Gently, gently, my man," said D'Artagnan. "We are getting on a littletoo fast. A few oats, and a good bed--nothing more."
"Some bran and water for my horse," said Porthos, "for it is very warm,I think."
"Don't be afraid, gentlemen," replied Planchet; "Daddy Celestin is anold gendarme, who fought at Ivry. He knows all about stables; so comeinto the house." And he led the way along a well-sheltered walk, whichcrossed a kitchen-garden, then a small paddock, and came out into alittle garden behind the house, the principal front of which, as we havealready noticed, was facing the street. As they approached, they couldsee, through two open windows on the ground-floor, which led into asitting-room, the interior of Planchet's residence. This room, softlylighted by a lamp placed on the table, seemed, from the end of thegarden, like a smiling image of repose, comfort and happiness. In everydirection where the rays of light fell, whether upon a piece of oldchina, or upon an article of furniture, shining from excessive neatness,or upon the weapons hanging against the wall, the soft light was assoftly reflected; and its rays seemed to linger everywhere uponsomething or another agreeable to the eye. The lamp which lighted theroom, while the foliage of jasmine and climbing roses hung in massesfrom the window-frames, splendidly illuminated a damask table-cloth aswhite as snow. The table was laid for two persons. An amber-colored winesparkled in the long cut-glass bottle; and a large jug of blue china,with a silver lid, was filled with foaming cider. Near the table, in ahigh-backed armchair, reclined, fast asleep, a woman of about thirtyyears of age, her face the very picture of health and freshness. Uponher knees lay a large cat, with her paws folded under her, and her eyeshalf-closed, purring in that significant manner which, according tofeline habits, indicates perfect contentment. The two friends pausedbefore the window in complete amazement, while Planchet, perceivingtheir astonishment, was, in no little degree, secretly delighted at it.
"Ah, Planchet, you rascal!" said D'Artagnan, "I now understand yourabsences."
"Oh, oh! there is some white linen!" said Porthos, in his turn, in avoice of thunder. At the sound of this voice, the cat took flight, thehousekeeper woke up suddenly, and Planchet, assuming a gracious air,introduced his two companions into the room, where the table was alreadylaid.
"Permit me, my dear," he said, "to present to you, Monsieur le Chevalierd'Artagnan, my patron." D'Artagnan took the lady's hand in his in themost courteous manner, and with precisely the same chivalrous air as hewould have taken Madame's.
"Monsieur le Baron de Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds," added Planchet.Porthos bowed with a reverence which Anne of Austria would have approvedof.
It was then Planchet's turn, and he unhesitatingly embraced the lady inquestion--not, however, until he had made a sign as if requestingD'Artagnan's and Porthos' permission, a permission which was, of course,frankly conceded. D'Artagnan complimented Planchet, and said, "You areindeed a man who knows how to make life agreeable."
"Life, monsieur," said Planchet, laughing, "is a capital which a manought to invest as sensibly as he possibly can."
"And you get very good interest for yours," said Porthos, with a burstof laughter like a peal of thunder.
Planchet turned to his housekeeper. "You have before you," he said toher, "the two men who have influenced no small portion of my life. Ihave spoken to you about them both very frequently."
"And two others as well," said the lady, with a very decided Flemishaccent.
"Madame is Dutch?" inquired D'Artagnan. Porthos curled his mustache, acircumstance which was not lost upon D'Artagnan, who remarkedeverything.
"I am from Antwerp," said the lady.
"And her name is Madame Gechter," said Planchet.
"You should not call her madame," said D'Artagnan.
"Why not?" asked Planchet.
"Because it would make her seem older every time you call her so."
"Well, I call her Truechen."
"And a very pretty name too," said Porthos.
"Truechen," said Planchet, "came to me from Flanders with her virtue andtwo thousand florins. She ran away from a brute of a husband, who was inthe habit of beating her. Being myself a Picard born, I was always veryfond of the Artesian women, and it is only a step from Artois toFlanders. She came crying bitterly to her godfather, my predecessor inthe Rue des Lombards; she placed her two thousand florins in myestablishment, which I have turned to very good account, and whichbring her in ten thousand."
"Bravo, Planchet!"
"She is free and well off; she has a cow, a maid-servant, and oldCelestin at her orders. She mends my linen, knits my winter stockings.She only sees me every fortnight, and seems anxious to make herselfhappy."
"And I am very happy indeed," said Truechen, with perfect ingenuousness.
Porthos began to curl the other side of his mustache. "The deuce!"thought D'Artagnan, "can Porthos have any intentions in that quarter?"
In the meantime, Truechen had set her cook to work, had laid the tablefor two more, and covered it with every possible delicacy, whichconverts a light supper into a substantial meal, and a meal into aregular feast. Fresh butter, salt beef, anchovies, tunny, a shopful ofPlanchet's commodities, fowls, vegetables, salad, fish from the pond andthe river, game from the forest--all the produce, in fact, of theprovince. Moreover, Planchet returned from the cellar, laden with tenbottles of wine, the glass of which could hardly be seen for the thickcoating of dust which covered them. Porthos' heart seemed to expand ashe said, "I am hungry;" and he sat himself beside Madame Truechen, whomhe looked at in the most killing manner. D'Artagnan seated himself onthe other side of her, while Planchet, discreetly and full of delight,took his seat opposite.
"Do not trouble yourselves," he said, "if Truechen should leave the tabl
enow and then during supper; for she will have to look after yourbedrooms."
In fact, the housekeeper made her escape very frequently, and they couldhear, on the first floor above them, the creaking of the woodenbedsteads and the rolling of the castors on the floor. While this wasgoing on, the three men, Porthos especially, ate and drankgloriously--it was wonderful to see them. The ten full bottles were tenempty ones by the time Truechen returned with the cheese. D'Artagnanstill preserved his dignity and self-possession, but Porthos had lost aportion of his; the mirth soon began to be somewhat uproarious.D'Artagnan recommended a new descent into the cellar, and, as Planchetdid not walk with the steadiness of a well-trained foot-soldier, thecaptain of the musketeers proposed to accompany him. They set off,humming song's wild enough to frighten anybody who might be listening.Truechen remained behind at table with Porthos. While the two winebibbers were looking behind the firewood for what they wanted, a sharp,sonorous sound was heard like the impression of a pair of lips on acheek.
"Porthos fancies himself at La Rochelle," thought D'Artagnan, as theyreturned freighted with bottles. Planchet was singing so loudly that hewas incapable of noticing anything. D'Artagnan, whom nothing everescaped, remarked how much redder Truechen's left cheek was than herright. Porthos was sitting on Truechen's left, and was curling with bothhis hands both sides of his mustache at once, and Truechen was looking athim with a most bewitching smile. The sparkling wine of Anjou very soonproduced a remarkable effect upon the three companions. D'Artagnan hadhardly strength enough left to take a candlestick to light Planchet uphis own staircase. Planchet was pulling Porthos along, who was followingTruechen, who was herself jovial enough. It was D'Artagnan who found outthe rooms and the beds. Porthos threw himself into the one destined forhim, after his friend had undressed him. D'Artagnan got into his ownbed, saying to himself, "Mordioux! I had made up my mind never to touchthat light-colored wine, which brings my early camp days back again.Fie! fie! if my musketeers were only to see their captain in such astate." And drawing the curtains of his bed, he added, "Fortunatelyenough, though, they will not see me."
"The country is very amusing," said Porthos, stretching out his legs,which passed through the wooden footboard, and made a tremendous noise,of which, however, no one in the house was capable of taking theslightest notice. By two o'clock in the morning every one was fastasleep.
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 13