73. Fatality.
Scarcely had D'Artagnan uttered these words when a ringing and suddennoise was heard resounding through the felucca, which had now become dimin the obscurity of the night.
"That, you may be sure," said the Gascon, "means something."
They then at the same instant perceived a large lantern carried on apole appear on the deck, defining the forms of shadows behind it.
Suddenly a terrible cry, a cry of despair, was wafted through space; andas if the shrieks of anguish had driven away the clouds, the veil whichhid the moon was cleated away and the gray sails and dark shrouds of thefelucca were plainly visible beneath the silvery light.
Shadows ran, as if bewildered, to and fro on the vessel, and mournfulcries accompanied these delirious walkers. In the midst of these screamsthey saw Mordaunt upon the poop with a torch in hand.
The agitated figures, apparently wild with terror, consisted of Groslow,who at the hour fixed by Mordaunt had collected his men and the sailors.Mordaunt, after having listened at the door of the cabin to hear if themusketeers were still asleep, had gone down into the cellar, convincedby their silence that they were all in a deep slumber. Then he had runto the train, impetuous as a man who is excited by revenge, and full ofconfidence, as are those whom God blinds, he had set fire to the wick ofnitre.
All this while Groslow and his men were assembled on deck.
"Haul up the cable and draw the boat to us," said Groslow.
One of the sailors got down the side of the ship, seized the cable, anddrew it; it came without the least resistance.
"The cable is cut!" he cried, "no boat!"
"How! no boat!" exclaimed Groslow; "it is impossible."
"'Tis true, however," answered the sailor; "there's nothing in the wakeof the ship; besides, here's the end of the cable."
"What's the matter?" cried Mordaunt, who, coming up out of the hatchway,rushed to the stern, waving his torch.
"Only that our enemies have escaped; they have cut the cord and gone offwith the boat."
Mordaunt bounded with one step to the cabin and kicked open the door.
"Empty!" he exclaimed; "the infernal demons!"
"We must pursue them," said Groslow, "they can't be gone far, and wewill sink them, passing over them."
"Yes, but the fire," ejaculated Mordaunt; "I have lighted it."
"Ten thousand devils!" cried Groslow, rushing to the hatchway; "perhapsthere is still time to save us."
Mordaunt answered only by a terrible laugh, threw his torch into the seaand plunged in after it. The instant Groslow put his foot upon thehatchway steps the ship opened like the crater of a volcano. A burst offlame rose toward the skies with an explosion like that of a hundredcannon; the air burned, ignited by flaming embers, then the frightfullightning disappeared, the brands sank, one after another, into theabyss, where they were extinguished, and save for a slight vibration inthe air, after a few minutes had elapsed one would have thought thatnothing had happened.
Only--the felucca had disappeared from the surface of the sea andGroslow and his three sailors were consumed.
The four friends saw all this--not a single detail of this fearful sceneescaped them. At one moment, bathed as they were in a flood of brilliantlight, which illumined the sea for the space of a league, they mighteach be seen, each by his own peculiar attitude and manner expressingthe awe which, even in their hearts of bronze, they could not helpexperiencing. Soon a torrent of vivid sparks fell around them--then, atlast, the volcano was extinguished--then all was dark and still--thefloating bark and heaving ocean.
They sat silent and dejected.
"By Heaven!" at last said Athos, the first to speak, "by this time, Ithink, all must be over."
"Here, my lords! save me! help!" cried a voice, whose mournful accents,reaching the four friends, seemed to proceed from some phantom of theocean.
All looked around; Athos himself stared.
"'Tis he! it is his voice!"
All still remained silent, the eyes of all were turned in the directionwhere the vessel had disappeared, endeavoring in vain to penetrate thedarkness. After a minute or two they were able to distinguish a man, whoapproached them, swimming vigorously.
Athos extended his arm toward him, pointing him out to his companions.
"Yes, yes, I see him well enough," said D'Artagnan.
"He--again!" cried Porthos, who was breathing like a blacksmith'sbellows; "why, he is made of iron."
"Oh, my God!" muttered Athos.
Aramis and D'Artagnan whispered to each other.
Mordaunt made several strokes more, and raising his arm in sign ofdistress above the waves: "Pity, pity on me, gentlemen, in Heaven'sname! my strength is failing me; I am dying."
The voice that implored aid was so piteous that it awakened pity in theheart of Athos.
"Poor fellow!" he exclaimed.
"Indeed!" said D'Artagnan, "monsters have only to complain to gain yoursympathy. I believe he's swimming toward us. Does he think we are goingto take him in? Row, Porthos, row." And setting the example he plowedhis oar into the sea; two strokes took the bark on twenty fathomsfurther.
"Oh! you will not abandon me! You will not leave me to perish! You willnot be pitiless!" cried Mordaunt.
"Ah! ah!" said Porthos to Mordaunt, "I think we have you now, my hero!and there are no doors by which you can escape this time but those ofhell."
"Oh! Porthos!" murmured the Comte de la Fere.
"Oh, pray, for mercy's sake, don't fly from me. For pity's sake!" criedthe young man, whose agony-drawn breath at times, when his head wentunder water, under the wave, exhaled and made the icy waters bubble.
D'Artagnan, however, who had consulted with Aramis, spoke to the poorwretch. "Go away," he said; "your repentance is too recent to inspireconfidence. See! the vessel in which you wished to fry us is stillsmoking; and the situation in which you are is a bed of roses comparedto that in which you wished to place us and in which you have placedMonsieur Groslow and his companions."
"Sir!" replied Mordaunt, in a tone of deep despair, "my penitence issincere. Gentlemen, I am young, scarcely twenty-three years old. I wasdrawn on by a very natural resentment to avenge my mother. You wouldhave done what I did."
Mordaunt wanted now only two or three fathoms to reach the boat, for theapproach of death seemed to give him supernatural strength.
"Alas!" he said, "I am then to die? You are going to kill the son, asyou killed the mother! Surely, if I am culpable and if I ask for pardon,I ought to be forgiven."
Then, as if his strength failed him, he seemed unable to sustain himselfabove the water and a wave passed over his head, which drowned hisvoice.
"Oh! this is torture to me," cried Athos.
Mordaunt reappeared.
"For my part," said D'Artagnan, "I say this must come to an end;murderer, as you were, of your uncle! executioner, as you were, of KingCharles! incendiary! I recommend you to sink forthwith to the bottom ofthe sea; and if you come another fathom nearer, I'll stave your wickedhead in with this oar."
"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" cried Athos, "my son, I entreat you; thewretch is dying, and it is horrible to let a man die without extending ahand to save him. I cannot resist doing so; he must live."
"Zounds!" replied D'Artagnan, "why don't you give yourself up directly,feet and hands bound, to that wretch? Ah! Comte de la Fere, you wish toperish by his hands! I, your son, as you call me--I will not let you!"
'Twas the first time D'Artagnan had ever refused a request from Athos.
Aramis calmly drew his sword, which he had carried between his teeth ashe swam.
"If he lays his hand on the boat's edge I will cut it off, regicide thathe is."
"And I," said Porthos. "Wait."
"What are you going to do?" asked Aramis.
"Throw myself in the water and strangle him."
"Oh, gentlemen!" cried Athos, "be men! be Christians! See! death isdepicted on his face! Ah! do not bring on me the horrors of re
morse!Grant me this poor wretch's life. I will bless you--I----"
"I am dying!" cried Mordaunt, "come to me! come to me!"
D'Artagnan began to be touched. The boat at this moment turned around,and the dying man was by that turn brought nearer Athos.
"Monsieur the Comte de la Fere," he cried, "I supplicate you! pity me! Icall on you--where are you? I see you no longer--I am dying--help me!help me!"
"Here I am, sir!" said Athos, leaning and stretching out his arm toMordaunt with that air of dignity and nobility of soul habitual to him;"here I am, take my hand and jump into our boat."
Mordaunt made a last effort--rose--seized the hand thus extended to himand grasped it with the vehemence of despair.
"That's right," said Athos; "put your other hand here." And he offeredhim his shoulder as another stay and support, so that his head almosttouched that of Mordaunt; and these two mortal enemies were in as closean embrace as if they had been brothers.
"Now, sir," said the count, "you are safe--calm yourself."
"Ah! my mother," cried Mordaunt, with eyes on fire with a look of hateimpossible to paint, "I can only offer thee one victim, but it shall atany rate be the one thou wouldst thyself have chosen!"
And whilst D'Artagnan uttered a cry, Porthos raised the oar, and Aramissought a place to strike, a frightful shake given to the boatprecipitated Athos into the sea; whilst Mordaunt, with a shout oftriumph, grasped the neck of his victim, and in order to paralyze hismovements, twined arms and legs around the musketeer. For an instant,without an exclamation, without a cry for help, Athos tried to sustainhimself on the surface of the waters, but the weight dragged him down;he disappeared by degrees; soon nothing was to be seen except his long,floating hair; then both men disappeared and the bubbling of the water,which, in its turn, was soon effaced, alone indicated the spot wherethese two had sunk.
Mute with horror, the three friends had remained open-mouthed, theireyes dilated, their arms extended like statues, and, motionless as theywere, the beating of their hearts was audible. Porthos was the first whocame to himself. He tore his hair.
"Oh!" he cried, "Athos! Athos! thou man of noble heart; woe is me! Ihave let thee perish!"
At this instant, in the midst of the silver circle illumined by thelight of the moon the same whirlpool which had been made by the sinkingmen was again obvious, and first were seen, rising above the waves, awisp of hair, then a pale face with open eyes, yet, nevertheless, theeyes of death; then a body, which, after rising of itself even to thewaist above the sea, turned gently on its back, according to the capriceof the waves, and floated.
In the bosom of this corpse was plunged a poniard, the gold hilt ofwhich shone in the moonbeams.
"Mordaunt! Mordaunt!" cried the three friends; "'tis Mordaunt!"
"But Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.
Suddenly the boat leaned on one side beneath a new and unexpected weightand Grimaud uttered a shout of joy; every one turned around and beheldAthos, livid, his eyes dim and his hands trembling, supporting himselfon the edge of the boat. Eight vigorous arms lifted him up immediatelyand laid him in the boat, where directly Athos was warmed andreanimated, reviving with the caresses and cares of his friends, whowere intoxicated with joy.
"You are not hurt?" asked D'Artagnan.
"No," replied Athos; "and he----"
"Oh, he! now we may say at last, thank Heaven! he is really dead. Look!"and D'Artagnan, obliging Athos to look in the direction he pointed,showed him the body of Mordaunt floating on its back, which, sometimessubmerged, sometimes rising, seemed still to pursue the four friendswith looks of insult and mortal hatred.
At last he sank. Athos had followed him with a glance in which thedeepest melancholy and pity were expressed.
"Bravo! Athos!" cried Aramis, with an emotion very rare in him.
"A capital blow you gave!" cried Porthos.
"I have a son. I wished to live," said Athos.
"In short," said D'Artagnan, "this has been the will of God."
"It was not I who killed him," said Athos in a soft, low tone, "'twasdestiny."
Vingt ans après. English Page 73