CHAPTER XIII.
SHOWING WHAT COULD BE SEEN FROM PLANCHET'S HOUSE.
The next morning found the three heroes sleeping soundly. Truechen hadclosed the outside blinds to keep the first rays of the sun from theheavy eyes of her guests, like a kind good woman. It was still perfectlydark then beneath Porthos' curtains and under Planchet's canopy, whenD'Artagnan, awakened by an indiscreet ray of light which made its waythrough the windows, jumped hastily out of bed, as if he wished to bethe first at the assault. He took by assault Porthos' room, which wasnext to his own. The worthy Porthos was sleeping with a noise likedistant thunder; in the dim obscurity of the room his gigantic frame wasprominently displayed, and his swollen fist hung down outside the bedupon the carpet. D'Artagnan awoke Porthos, who rubbed his eyes in atolerably good humor. In the meantime Planchet was dressing himself, andmet at their bedroom doors his two guests, who were still somewhatunsteady from their previous evening's entertainment. Although it wasyet very early, the whole household was already up. The cook wasmercilessly slaughtering poultry in the poultry-yard, and Celestin wasgathering cherries in the garden. Porthos, brisk and lively as ever,held out his hand to Planchet, and D'Artagnan requested permission toembrace Madame Truechen. The latter, to show that she bore no ill-will,approached Porthos, upon whom she conferred the same favor. Porthosembraced Madame Truechen, heaving an enormous sigh. Planchet took bothhis friends by the hand.
"I am going to show you over the house," he said; "when we arrived lastevening it was as dark as an oven, and we were unable to see anything;but in broad daylight everything looks different, and you will besatisfied, I hope."
"If we begin by the view you have," said D'Artagnan, "that charms mebeyond everything; I have always lived in royal mansions, you know, androyal personages have some every good ideas upon the selection of pointsof view."
"I am a great stickler for a good view myself," said Porthos. "At myChateau de Pierrefonds, I have had four avenues laid out, and at the endof each is a landscape of a different character altogether to theothers."
"You shall see my prospect," said Planchet; and he led his two guests toa window.
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "this is the Rue de Lyon."
"Yes, I have two windows on this side, a paltry insignificant view, forthere is always that bustling and noisy inn, which is a verydisagreeable neighbor. I had four windows here, but I have only kepttwo."
"Let us go on," said D'Artagnan.
They entered a corridor leading to the bedrooms, and Planchet pushedopen the outside blinds.
"Hollo! what is that out yonder?" said Porthos.
"The forest," said Planchet. "It is the horizon--a thick line of green,which is yellow in the spring, green in the summer, red in the autumn,and white in the winter."
"All very well, but it is like a curtain, which prevents one seeing agreater distance."
"Yes," said Planchet; "still one can see, at all events, everythingbetween."
"Ah! the open country," said Porthos. "But what is that I see outthere--crosses and stones?"
"Ah! that is the cemetery," exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Precisely," said Planchet; "I assure you it is very curious. Hardly aday passes that some one is not buried there; for Fontainebleau is by nomeans an inconsiderable place. Sometimes we see young girls clothed inwhite carrying banners; at others, some of the town-council, or richcitizens, with choristers and all the parish authorities; and then, too,we see some of the officers of the king's household."
"I should not like that," said Porthos.
"There is not much amusement in it, at all events," said D'Artagnan.
"I assure you it encourages religious thoughts," replied Planchet.
"Oh, I don't deny that."
"But," continued Planchet, "we must all die one day or another, and Ionce met with a maxim somewhere which I have remembered, that thethought of death is a thought that will do us all good."
"I am far from saying the contrary," said Porthos.
"But," objected D'Artagnan, "the thought of green fields, flowers,rivers, blue horizons, extensive and boundless plains, is no less likelyto do us good."
"If I had any, I should be far from rejecting them," said Planchet; "butpossessing only this little cemetery, full of flowers, so moss-grown,shady and quiet, I am contented with it, and I think of those who livein town, in the Rue des Lombards, for instance, and who have to listento the rumbling of a couple of thousand vehicles every day, and to thetrampling of a hundred and fifty thousand foot-passengers."
"But living," said Porthos; "living, remember that."
"That is exactly the reason," said Planchet timidly, "why I feel it doesme good to see a few dead."
"Upon my word," said D'Artagnan, "that fellow Planchet was born to be apoet as well as a grocer."
"Monsieur," said Planchet, "I am one of those good-humored sort of menwhom Heaven created for the purpose of living a certain space of time,and of considering all things good which they meet with during theirstay on earth."
D'Artagnan sat down close to the window, and as there seemed to besomething substantial in Planchet's philosophy, he mused over it.
"Ah, ah!" exclaimed Porthos, "if I am not mistaken, we are going to havea representation now, for I think I heard something like chanting."
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "I hear singing too."
"Oh, it is only a burial of a very poor description," said Planchet,disdainfully; "the officiating priest, the beadle, and only onechorister boy, nothing more. You observe, messieurs, that the defunctlady or gentleman could not have been of very high rank."
"No; no one seems to be following the coffin."
"Yes," said Porthos; "I see a man."
"You are right; a man wrapped up in a cloak," said D'Artagnan.
"It's not worth looking at," said Planchet.
"I find it interesting," said D'Artagnan, leaning on the window.
"Come, come, you are beginning to take a fancy to the place already,"said Planchet, delightedly; "it is exactly my own case. I was somelancholy at first that I could do nothing but make the sign of thecross all day, and the chants were like nails being driven into my head;but now, the chants lull me to sleep, and no bird I have ever seen orheard can sing better than those which are to be met with in thiscemetery."
"Well," said Porthos, "this is beginning to get a little dull for me,and I prefer going downstairs."
Planchet with one bound was beside his guest, to whom he offered hishand to lead him into the garden.
"What!" said Porthos to D'Artagnan, as he turned round, "are you goingto remain here?"
"Yes, I shall join you presently."
"Well, M. d'Artagnan is right, after all," said Planchet; "are theybeginning to bury yet?"
"Not yet."
"Ah! yes, the grave-digger is waiting until the cords are fastened roundthe bier. But see, a woman has just entered the cemetery at the otherend."
"Yes, yes, my dear Planchet," said D'Artagnan, quickly, "leave me, leaveme; I feel I am beginning already to be much comforted by mymeditations, so do not interrupt me."
Planchet left, and D'Artagnan remained, devouring with his eager gazefrom behind the half-closed blinds what was taking place just beforehim. The two bearers of the corpse had unfastened the straps by whichthey had carried the litter, and were letting their burden glide gentlyinto the open grave. At a few paces distant, the man with the cloakwrapped round him, the only spectator of this melancholy scene, wasleaning with his back against a large cypress-tree, and kept his faceand person entirely concealed from the grave-digger and the priest; thecorpse was buried in five minutes. The grave having been filled up, thepriest turned away, and the grave-digger having addressed a few words tothem, followed them as they moved away. The man in the mantle bowed asthey passed him, and put a piece of money into the grave-digger's hand.
"Mordioux!" murmured D'Artagnan; "why that man is Aramis himself."
Aramis, in fact, remained alone, on that side at least; for har
dly didhe turn his head than a woman's footsteps, and the rustling of herdress, were heard in the path close to him. He immediately turned round,and took off his hat with the most ceremonious respect; he led the ladyunder the shelter of some walnut and lime-trees, which overshadowed amagnificent tomb.
"Ah! who would have thought it," said D'Artagnan; "the bishop of Vannesat a rendezvous! He is still the same Abbe Aramis as he was atNoisy-le-Sec. Yes," he added, after a pause; "but as it is in acemetery, the rendezvous is sacred." And he began to laugh.
The conversation lasted for fully half an hour. D'Artagnan could not seethe lady's face, for she kept her back turned toward him; but he sawperfectly well, by the erect attitude of both the speakers, by theirgestures, by the measured and careful manner with which they glanced ateach other, either by way of attack or defense, that they must beconversing about any other subject than that of love. At the end of theconversation the lady rose, and bowed most profoundly to Aramis.
"Oh, oh!" said D'Artagnan; "this rendezvous finishes like one of a verytender nature though. The cavalier kneels at the beginning, the younglady by-and-by gets tamed down, and then it is she who has tosupplicate.--Who is this girl? I would give anything to ascertain."
This seemed impossible, however, for Aramis was the first to leave; thelady carefully concealed her head and face, and then immediatelyseparated. D'Artagnan could hold out no longer; he ran to the windowwhich looked out on the Rue de Lyon, and saw Aramis just entering theinn. The lady was proceeding in quite an opposite direction, and seemed,in fact, to be about to rejoin an equipage, consisting of two led horsesand a carriage, which he could see standing close to the borders of theforest. She was walking slowly, her head bent down, absorbed in thedeepest meditation.
"Mordioux! mordioux! I must and will learn who that woman is," said themusketeer again; and then, without further deliberation, he set off inpursuit of her. As he was going along, he tried to think how he couldpossibly contrive to make her raise her veil. "She is not young," hesaid, "and is a woman of high rank in society. I ought to know thatfigure and peculiar style of walk." As he ran, the sound of his spursand of his boots upon the hard ground of the street made a strangejingling noise; a fortunate circumstance in itself, which he was farfrom reckoning upon. The noise disturbed the lady; she seemed to fancyshe was being either followed or pursued, which was indeed the case, andturned round. D'Artagnan started as if he had received a charge of smallshot in his legs, and then turning suddenly round, as if he were goingback the same way he had come, he murmured, "Madame de Chevreuse!"D'Artagnan would not go home until he had learned everything. He askedCelestin to inquire of the grave-digger whose body it was they hadburied that morning.
D'ARTAGNAN, RECLINING UPON AN IMMENSE STRAIGHT-BACKEDCHAIR, WITH HIS LEGS NOT STRETCHED OUT, BUT SIMPLY PLACED UPON A STOOL,FORMED AN ANGLE OF THE MOST OBTUSE FORM THAT COULD POSSIBLY BESEEN.--_Page 88._]
"A poor Franciscan mendicant friar," replied the latter, "who had noteven a dog to love him in this world and to accompany him to his lastresting-place."
"If that were really the case," thought D'Artagnan, "we should not havefound Aramis present at his funeral. The bishop of Vannes is notprecisely a dog as far as devotion goes; his scent, however, is quite askeen, I admit."
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 14