Vingt ans après. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  33. Grimaud Speaks.

  Grimaud was left alone with the executioner, who in a few moments openedhis eyes.

  "Help, help," he murmured; "oh, God! have I not a single friend in theworld who will aid me either to live or to die?"

  "Take courage," said Grimaud; "they are gone to find assistance."

  "Who are you?" asked the wounded man, fixing his half opened eyes onGrimaud.

  "An old acquaintance," replied Grimaud.

  "You?" and the wounded man sought to recall the features of the personnow before him.

  "Under what circumstances did we meet?" he asked again.

  "One night, twenty years ago, my master fetched you from Bethune andconducted you to Armentieres."

  "I know you well now," said the executioner; "you were one of the fourgrooms."

  "Just so."

  "Where do you come from now?"

  "I was passing by and drew up at this inn to rest my horse. They told methe executioner of Bethune was here and wounded, when you uttered twopiercing cries. At the first we ran to the door and at the second forcedit open."

  "And the monk?" exclaimed the executioner, "did you see the monk?"

  "What monk?"

  "The monk that was shut in with me."

  "No, he was no longer here; he appears to have fled by the window. Washe the man that stabbed you?"

  "Yes," said the executioner.

  Grimaud moved as if to leave the room.

  "What are you going to do?" asked the wounded man.

  "He must be apprehended."

  "Do not attempt it; he has revenged himself and has done well. Now I mayhope that God will forgive me, since my crime is expiated."

  "Explain yourself." said Grimaud.

  "The woman whom you and your masters commanded me to kill----"

  "Milady?"

  "Yes, Milady; it is true you called her thus."

  "What has the monk to do with this Milady?"

  "She was his mother."

  Grimaud trembled and stared at the dying man in a dull and leadenmanner.

  "His mother!" he repeated.

  "Yes, his mother."

  "But does he know this secret, then?"

  "I mistook him for a monk and revealed it to him in confession."

  "Unhappy man!" cried Grimaud, whose face was covered with sweat at thebare idea of the evil results such a revelation might cause; "unhappyman, you named no one, I hope?"

  "I pronounced no name, for I knew none, except his mother's, as a younggirl, and it was by this name that he recognized her, but he knows thathis uncle was among her judges."

  Thus speaking, he fell back exhausted. Grimaud, wishing to relieve him,advanced his hand toward the hilt of the dagger.

  "Touch me not!" said the executioner; "if this dagger is withdrawn Ishall die."

  Grimaud remained with his hand extended; then, striking his forehead, heexclaimed:

  "Oh! if this man should ever discover the names of the others, my masteris lost."

  "Haste! haste to him and warn him," cried the wounded man, "if he stilllives; warn his friends, too. My death, believe me, will not be the endof this atrocious misadventure."

  "Where was the monk going?" asked Grimaud.

  "Toward Paris."

  "Who stopped him?"

  "Two young gentlemen, who were on their way to join the army and thename of one of whom I heard his companion mention--the Viscount deBragelonne."

  "And it was this young man who brought the monk to you? Then it was thewill of God that it should be so and this it is which makes it all soawful," continued Grimaud. "And yet that woman deserved her fate; do younot think so?"

  "On one's death-bed the crimes of others appear very small in comparisonwith one's own," said the executioner; and falling back exhausted heclosed his eyes.

  Grimaud was reluctant to leave the man alone and yet he perceived thenecessity of starting at once to bear these tidings to the Comte de laFere. Whilst he thus hesitated the host re-entered the room, followednot only by a surgeon, but by many other persons, whom curiosity hadattracted to the spot. The surgeon approached the dying man, who seemedto have fainted.

  "We must first extract the steel from the side," said he, shaking hishead in a significant manner.

  The prophecy which the wounded man had just uttered recurred to Grimaud,who turned away his head. The weapon, as we have already stated, wasplunged into the body to the hilt, and as the surgeon, taking it by theend, drew it forth, the wounded man opened his eyes and fixed them onhim in a manner truly frightful. When at last the blade had beenentirely withdrawn, a red froth issued from the mouth of the wounded manand a stream of blood spouted afresh from the wound when he at lengthdrew breath; then, fixing his eyes upon Grimaud with a singularexpression, the dying man uttered the last death-rattle and expired.

  Then Grimaud, lifting the dagger from the pool of blood which wasgliding along the room, to the horror of all present, made a sign to thehost to follow him, paid him with a generosity worthy of his master andagain mounted his horse. Grimaud's first intention had been to return toParis, but he remembered the anxiety which his prolonged absence mightoccasion Raoul, and reflecting that there were now only two milesbetween the vicomte and himself and a quarter of an hour's riding wouldunite them, and that the going, returning and explanation would notoccupy an hour, he put spurs to his horse and a few minutes after hadreached the only inn of Mazingarbe.

  Raoul was seated at table with the Count de Guiche and his tutor, whenall at once the door opened and Grimaud presented himself,travel-stained, dirty, and sprinkled with the blood of the unhappyexecutioner.

  "Grimaud, my good Grimaud!" exclaimed Raoul "here you are at last!Excuse me, sirs, this is not a servant, but a friend. How did you leavethe count?" continued he. "Does he regret me a little? Have you seen himsince I left him? Answer, for I have many things to tell you, too;indeed, the last three days some odd adventures have happened--but whatis the matter? how pale you are! and blood, too! What is this?"

  "It is the blood of the unfortunate man whom you left at the inn and whodied in my arms."

  "In your arms?--that man! but know you who he was?"

  "He used to be the headsman of Bethune."

  "You knew him? and he is dead?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, sir," said D'Arminges, "it is the common lot; even an executioneris not exempted. I had a bad opinion of him the moment I saw his wound,and since he asked for a monk you know that it was his opinion, too,that death would follow."

  At the mention of the monk, Grimaud became pale.

  "Come, come," continued D'Arminges, "to dinner;" for like most men ofhis age and generation he did not allow sentiment or sensibility tointerfere with a repast.

  "You are right, sir," said Raoul. "Come, Grimaud, order dinner foryourself and when you have rested a little we can talk."

  "No, sir, no," said Grimaud. "I cannot stop a moment; I must start forParis again immediately."

  "What? You start for Paris? You are mistaken; it is Olivain who leavesme; you are to remain."

  "On the contrary, Olivain is to stay and I am to go. I have come fornothing else but to tell you so."

  "But what is the meaning of this change?"

  "I cannot tell you."

  "Explain yourself."

  "I cannot explain myself."

  "Come, tell me, what is the joke?"

  "Monsieur le vicomte knows that I never joke."

  "Yes, but I know also that Monsieur le Comte de la Fere arranged thatyou were to remain with me and that Olivain should return to Paris. Ishall follow the count's directions."

  "Not under present circumstances, monsieur."

  "Perhaps you mean to disobey me?"

  "Yes, monsieur, I must."

  "You persist, then?"

  "Yes, I am going; may you be happy, monsieur," and Grimaud saluted andturned toward the door to go out.

  Raoul, angry and at the same time uneasy, ran after him and seized himby the arm.
"Grimaud!" he cried; "remain; I wish it."

  "Then," replied Grimaud, "you wish me to allow monsieur le comte to bekilled." He saluted and made a movement to depart.

  "Grimaud, my friend," said the viscount, "will you leave me thus, insuch anxiety? Speak, speak, in Heaven's name!" And Raoul fell backtrembling upon his chair.

  "I can tell you but one thing, sir, for the secret you wish to know isnot my own. You met a monk, did you not?"

  "Yes."

  The young men looked at each other with an expression of fear.

  "You conducted him to the wounded man and you had time to observe him,and perhaps you would know him again were you to meet him."

  "Yes, yes!" cried both young men.

  "Very well; if ever you meet him again, wherever it may be, whether onthe high road or in the street or in a church, anywhere that he or youmay be, put your foot on his neck and crush him without pity, withoutmercy, as you would crush a viper or a scorpion! destroy him utterly andquit him not until he is dead; the lives of five men are not safe, in myopinion, as long as he is on the earth."

  And without adding another word, Grimaud, profiting by the astonishmentand terror into which he had thrown his auditors, rushed from the room.Two minutes later the thunder of a horse's hoofs was heard upon theroad; it was Grimaud, on his way to Paris. When once in the saddleGrimaud reflected on two things; first, that at the pace he was goinghis horse would not carry him ten miles, and secondly, that he had nomoney. But Grimaud's ingenuity was more prolific than his speech, andtherefore at the first halt he sold his steed and with the moneyobtained from the purchase took post horses.