"You see, my dear D'Artagnan," said Athos, "we must not despair of thehearts of kings."
"Not despair! you are right to say so!" replied D'Artagnan.
"Oh! my dear, very dear friend," resumed Athos, whom the almostimperceptible bitterness of D'Artagnan had not escaped. "Pardon me! canI have unintentionally wounded my best comrade?"
"You are mad, Athos, and to prove it, I shall conduct you to the palace;to the very gate, I mean; the walk will do me good."
"You shall go in with me, my friend; I will speak to his majesty."
"No, no!" replied D'Artagnan, with true pride, free from all mixture;"if there is anything worse than begging yourself, it is making othersbeg for you. Come, let us go, my friend, the walk will be charming; onthe way I shall show you the house of M. Monk, who has detained mewith him. A beautiful house, by my faith. Being a general in England isbetter than being a marechal in France, please to know."
Athos allowed himself to be led along, quite saddened by D'Artagnan'sforced attempts at gayety. The whole city was in a state of joy; the twofriends 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 thusin front of Monk's house, before which, as we have said, they had topass on their way to St. James's.
Athos and D'Artagnan said but little on the road, for the simple reasonthat they would have had so many things to talk about if they hadspoken. Athos thought that by speaking he should evince satisfaction,and that might wound D'Artagnan. The latter feared that in speaking heshould allow some little bitterness to steal into his words which wouldrender his company unpleasant to his friend. It was a singular emulationof silence between contentment and ill-humor. D'Artagnan gave wayfirst to that itching at the tip of his tongue which he so habituallyexperienced.
"Do you remember, Athos," said he, "the passage of the 'Memoires deD'Aubigny,' in which that devoted servant, a Gascon like myself, poor asmyself, and, I was going to add, brave as myself, relates instances ofthe meanness of Henry IV.? My father always told me, I remember, thatD'Aubigny 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, myfriend."
"Oh! you are so perfect yourself, you never agree to the faults ofothers. But, in reality, Henry IV. was covetous, Louis XIII., his son,was so likewise; we know something of that, don't we? Gaston carriedthis vice to exaggeration, and has made himself, in this respect,hated by all who surround him. Henriette, poor woman, might well beavaricious, she who did not eat every day, and could not warm herselfevery winter; and that is an example she has given to her son CharlesII., grandson of the great Henry IV., who is as covetous as his motherand his grandfather. See if I have well traced the genealogy of themisers?"
"D'Artagnan, my friend," cried Athos, "you are very rude towards thateagle race called the Bourbons."
"Eh! and I have forgotten the best instance of all--the other grandsonof the Bearnais, Louis XIV., my ex-master. Well, I hope he is miserlyenough, he who would not lend a million to his brother Charles! Good! Isee you are beginning to be angry. Here we are, by good luck, close tomy house, or rather to that of my friend, M. Monk."
"My dear D'Artagnan, you do not make me angry, you make me sad; it iscruel, in fact, to see a man of your deserts out of the position hisservices ought to have acquired; it appears to me, my dear friend, thatyour name is as radiant as the greatest names in war and diplomacy. Tellme if the Luynes, the Ballegardes, and the Bassompierres have merited,as we have, fortunes and honors? You are right, my friend, a hundredtimes right."
D'Artagnan sighed, and preceded his friend under the porch of themansion Monk inhabited, at the extremity of the city. "Permit me,"said he, "to leave my purse at home; for if in the crowd those cleverpickpockets of London, who are much boasted of, even in Paris, were tosteal from me the remainder of my poor crowns, I should not be able toreturn to France. Now, content I left France, and wild with joy I shouldreturn to it, seeing that all my prejudices of former days againstEngland have returned, accompanied by many others."
Athos made no reply.
"So then, my dear friend, one second, and I will follow you," saidD'Artagnan. "I know you are in a hurry to go yonder to receive yourreward, but, believe me, I am not less eager to partake of your joy,although from a distance. Wait for me." And D'Artagnan was alreadypassing through the vestibule, when a man, half servant, half soldier,who filled in Monk's establishment the double functions of porter andguard, stopped our musketeer, saying to him in English:
"I beg your pardon, my Lord d'Artagnan!"
"Well," replied the latter: "what is it? Is the general going to dismissme? I only needed to be expelled by him."
These words, spoken in French, made no impression upon the person towhom they were addressed and who himself only spoke an English mixedwith the rudest Scotch. But Athos was grieved at them, for he began tothink D'Artagnan was not wrong.
The Englishman showed D'Artagnan a letter: "From the general," said he.
"Aye! that's it, my dismissal!" replied the Gascon. "Must I read it,Athos?"
"You must be deceived," said Athos, "or I know no more honest people inthe world but you and myself."
D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and unsealed the letter, while theimpassible Englishman held for him a large lantern, by the light ofwhich he was enabled to read it.
"Well, what is the matter?" said Athos, seeing the countenance of thereader change.
"Read it yourself," said the musketeer.
Athos took the paper and read:
"Monsieur d'Artagnan.--The king regrets very much you did not come to St.Paul's with his cortege. He missed you, as I also have missed you, mydear captain. There is but one means of repairing all this. His majestyexpects me at nine o'clock at the palace of St. James's: will you bethere at the same time with me? His gracious majesty appoints that hourfor an audience he grants you."
This letter was from Monk.
CHAPTER 33. The Audience.
Ten Years Later Page 36