Vingt ans après. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  22. Saint Denis.

  The day had begun to break when Athos arose and dressed himself. It wasplain, by a paleness still greater than usual, and by those traces whichloss of sleep leaves on the face, that he must have passed almost thewhole of the night without sleeping. Contrary to the custom of a man sofirm and decided, there was this morning in his personal appearancesomething tardy and irresolute.

  He was occupied with the preparations for Raoul's departure and wasseeking to gain time. In the first place he himself furbished a sword,which he drew from its perfumed leather sheath; he examined it to see ifits hilt was well guarded and if the blade was firmly attached to thehilt. Then he placed at the bottom of the valise belonging to the youngman a small bag of louis, called Olivain, the lackey who had followedhim from Blois, and made him pack the valise under his own eyes,watchful to see that everything should be put in which might be usefulto a young man entering on his first campaign.

  At length, after occupying about an hour in these preparations, heopened the door of the room in which the vicomte slept, and entered.

  The sun, already high, penetrated into the room through the window, thecurtains of which Raoul had neglected to close on the previous evening.He was still sleeping, his head gracefully reposing on his arm.

  Athos approached and hung over the youth in an attitude full of tendermelancholy; he looked long on this young man, whose smiling mouth andhalf closed eyes bespoke soft dreams and lightest slumber, as if hisguardian angel watched over him with solicitude and affection. Bydegrees Athos gave himself up to the charms of his reverie in theproximity of youth, so pure, so fresh. His own youth seemed to reappear,bringing with it all those savoury remembrances, which are like perfumesmore than thoughts. Between the past and the present was an ineffableabyss. But imagination has the wings of an angel of light and travelssafely through or over the seas where we have been almost shipwrecked,the darkness in which our illusions are lost, the precipice whence ourhappiness has been hurled and swallowed up. He remembered that all thefirst part of his life had been embittered by a woman and he thoughtwith alarm of the influence love might assume over so fine, and at thesame time so vigorous an organization as that of Raoul.

  In recalling all he had been through, he foresaw all that Raoul mightsuffer; and the expression of the deep and tender compassion whichthrobbed in his heart was pictured in the moist eye with which he gazedon the young man.

  At this moment Raoul awoke, without a cloud on his face withoutweariness or lassitude; his eyes were fixed on those of Athos andperhaps he comprehended all that passed in the heart of the man who wasawaiting his awakening as a lover awaits the awakening of his mistress,for his glance, in return, had all the tenderness of love.

  "You are there, sir?" he said, respectfully.

  "Yes, Raoul," replied the count.

  "And you did not awaken me?"

  "I wished to leave you still to enjoy some moments of sleep, my child;you must be fatigued from yesterday."

  "Oh, sir, how good you are!"

  Athos smiled.

  "How do you feel this morning?" he inquired.

  "Perfectly well; quite rested, sir."

  "You are still growing," Athos continued, with that charming andpaternal interest felt by a grown man for a youth.

  "Oh, sir, I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Raoul, ashamed of so muchattention; "in an instant I shall be dressed."

  Athos then called Olivain.

  "Everything," said Olivain to Athos, "has been done according to yourdirections; the horses are waiting."

  "And I was asleep," cried Raoul, "whilst you, sir, you had the kindnessto attend to all these details. Truly, sir, you overwhelm me withbenefits!"

  "Therefore you love me a little, I hope," replied Athos, in a tone ofemotion.

  "Oh, sir! God knows how much I love, revere you."

  "See that you forget nothing," said Athos, appearing to look about him,that he might hide his emotion.

  "No, indeed, sir," answered Raoul.

  The servant then approached Athos and said, hesitatingly:

  "Monsieur le vicomte has no sword."

  "'Tis well," said Athos, "I will take care of that."

  They went downstairs, Raoul looking every now and then at the count tosee if the moment of farewell was at hand, but Athos was silent. Whenthey reached the steps Raoul saw three horses.

  "Oh, sir! then you are going with me?"

  "I will accompany you a portion of the way," said Athos.

  Joy shone in Raoul's eyes and he leaped lightly to his saddle.

  Athos mounted more slowly, after speaking in a low voice to the lackey,who, instead of following them immediately, returned to their rooms.Raoul, delighted at the count's companionship, perceived, or affected toperceive nothing of this byplay.

  They set out, passing over the Pont Neuf; they pursued their way alongthe quay then called L'Abreuvoir Pepin, and went along by the walls ofthe Grand Chatelet. They proceeded to the Rue Saint Denis.

  After passing through the Porte Saint Denis, Athos looked at Raoul's wayof riding and observed:

  "Take care, Raoul! I have already often told you of this; you must notforget it, for it is a great defect in a rider. See! your horse is tiredalready, he froths at the mouth, whilst mine looks as if he had onlyjust left the stable. You hold the bit too tight and so make his mouthhard, so that you will not be able to make him manoeuvre quickly. Thesafety of a cavalier often depends on the prompt obedience of his horse.In a week, remember, you will no longer be performing your manoeuvresfor practice, but on a field of battle."

  Then suddenly, in order not to give too uncomfortable an importance tothis observation:

  "See, Raoul!" he resumed; "what a fine plain for partridge shooting."

  The young man stored in his mind the admonition whilst he admired thedelicate tenderness with which it was bestowed.

  "I have remarked also another thing," said Athos, "which is, that infiring off your pistol you hold your arm too far outstretched. Thistension lessens the accuracy of the aim. So in twelve times you thricemissed the mark."

  "Which you, sir, struck twelve times," answered Raoul, smiling.

  "Because I bent my arm and rested my hand on my elbow--so; do youunderstand what I mean?"

  "Yes, sir. I have fired since in that manner and have been quitesuccessful."

  "What a cold wind!" resumed Athos; "a wintry blast. Apropos, if youfire--and you will do so, for you are recommended to a young general whois very fond of powder--remember that in single combat, which oftentakes place in the cavalry, never to fire the first shot. He who firesthe first shot rarely hits his man, for he fires with the apprehensionof being disarmed, before an armed foe; then, whilst he fires, make yourhorse rear; that manoeuvre has saved my life several times."

  "I shall do so, if only in gratitude----"

  "Eh!" cried Athos, "are not those fellows poachers they have arrestedyonder? They are. Then another important thing, Raoul: should you bewounded in a battle, and fall from your horse, if you have any strengthleft, disentangle yourself from the line that your regiment has formed;otherwise, it may be driven back and you will be trampled to death bythe horses. At all events, should you be wounded, write to me that veryinstant, or get some one at once to write to me. We are judges ofwounds, we old soldiers," Athos added, smiling.

  "Thank you, sir," answered the young man, much moved.

  They arrived that very moment at the gate of the town, guarded by twosentinels.

  "Here comes a young gentleman," said one of them, "who seems as if hewere going to join the army."

  "How do you make that out?" inquired Athos.

  "By his manner, sir, and his age; he's the second to-day."

  "Has a young man, such as I am, gone through this morning, then?" askedRaoul.

  "Faith, yes, with a haughty presence, a fine equipage; such as the sonof a noble house would have."

  "He will be my companion on the journey, sir," cried Raoul. "Alas! hecannot make me for
get what I shall have lost!"

  Thus talking, they traversed the streets, full of people on account ofthe fete, and arrived opposite the old cathedral, where first mass wasgoing on.

  "Let us alight; Raoul," said Athos. "Olivain, take care of our horsesand give me my sword."

  The two gentlemen then went into the church. Athos gave Raoul some ofthe holy water. A love as tender as that of a lover for his mistressdwells, undoubtedly, in some paternal hearts toward a son.

  Athos said a word to one of the vergers, who bowed and proceeded towardthe basement.

  "Come, Raoul," he said, "let us follow this man."

  The verger opened the iron grating that guarded the royal tombs andstood on the topmost step, whilst Athos and Raoul descended. Thesepulchral depths of the descent were dimly lighted by a silver lamp onthe lowest step; and just below this lamp there was laid, wrapped in aflowing mantle of violet velvet, worked with fleurs-de-lis of gold, acatafalque resting on trestles of oak. The young man, prepared for thisscene by the state of his own feelings, which were mournful, and by themajesty of the cathedral which he had passed through, descended in aslow and solemn manner and stood with head uncovered before these mortalspoils of the last king, who was not to be placed by the side of hisforefathers until his successor should take his place there; and whoappeared to abide on that spot, that he might thus address human pride,so sure to be exalted by the glories of a throne: "Dust of the earth!Here I await thee!"

  There was profound silence.

  Then Athos raised his hand and pointing to the coffin:

  "This temporary sepulture is," he said, "that of a man who was of feeblemind, yet one whose reign was full of great events; because over thisking watched the spirit of another man, even as this lamp keeps vigilover this coffin and illumines it. He whose intellect was thus supreme,Raoul, was the actual sovereign; the other, nothing but a phantom towhom he lent a soul; and yet, so powerful is majesty amongst us, thisman has not even the honor of a tomb at the feet of him in whose servicehis life was worn away. Remember, Raoul, this! If Richelieu made theking, by comparison, seem small, he made royalty great. The Palace ofthe Louvre contains two things--the king, who must die, and royalty,which never dies. The minister, so feared, so hated by his master, hasdescended into the tomb, drawing after him the king, whom he would notleave alone on earth, lest his work should be destroyed. So blind werehis contemporaries that they regarded the cardinal's death as adeliverance; and I, even I, opposed the designs of the great man whoheld the destinies of France within the hollow of his hand. Raoul, learnhow to distinguish the king from royalty; the king is but a man; royaltyis the gift of God. Whenever you hesitate as to whom you ought to serve,abandon the exterior, the material appearance for the invisibleprinciple, for the invisible principle is everything. Raoul, I seem toread your future destiny as through a cloud. It will be happier, Ithink, than ours has been. Different in your fate from us, you will havea king without a minister, whom you may serve, love, respect. Should theking prove a tyrant, for power begets tyranny, serve, love, respectroyalty, that Divine right, that celestial spark which makes this duststill powerful and holy, so that we--gentlemen, nevertheless, of rankand condition--are as nothing in comparison with the cold corpse thereextended."

  "I shall adore God, sir," said Raoul, "respect royalty and ever servethe king. And if death be my lot, I hope to die for the king, forroyalty and for God. Have I, sir, comprehended your instructions?"

  Athos smiled.

  "Yours is a noble nature." he said; "here is your sword."

  Raoul bent his knee to the ground.

  "It was worn by my father, a loyal gentleman. I have worn it in my turnand it has sometimes not been disgraced when the hilt was in my hand andthe sheath at my side. Should your hand still be too weak to use thissword, Raoul, so much the better. You will have the more time to learnto draw it only when it ought to be used."

  "Sir," replied Raoul, putting the sword to his lips as he received itfrom the count, "I owe you everything and yet this sword is the mostprecious gift you have yet made me. I will wear it, I swear to you, as agrateful man should do."

  "'Tis well; arise, vicomte, embrace me."

  Raoul arose and threw himself with emotion into the count's arms.

  "Adieu," faltered the count, who felt his heart die away within him;"adieu, and think of me."

  "Oh! for ever and ever!" cried the youth; "oh! I swear to you, sir,should any harm befall me, your name will be the last name that I shallutter, the remembrance of you my last thought."

  Athos hastened upstairs to conceal his emotion, and regained withhurried steps the porch where Olivain was waiting with the horses.

  "Olivain," said Athos, showing the servant Raoul's shoulder-belt,"tighten the buckle of the sword, it falls too low. You will accompanymonsieur le vicomte till Grimaud rejoins you. You know, Raoul, Grimaudis an old and zealous servant; he will follow you."

  "Yes, sir," answered Raoul.

  "Now to horse, that I may see you depart!"

  Raoul obeyed.

  "Adieu, Raoul," said the count; "adieu, my dearest boy!"

  "Adieu, sir, adieu, my beloved protector."

  Athos waved his hand--he dared not trust himself to speak: and Raoulwent away, his head uncovered. Athos remained motionless, looking afterhim until he turned the corner of the street.

  Then the count threw the bridle of his horse into the hands of apeasant, remounted the steps, went into the cathedral, there to kneeldown in the darkest corner and pray.