The Man in the Iron Mask

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter XXV. In Which Porthos Thinks He Is Pursuing a Duchy.

  Aramis and Porthos, having profited by the time granted them by Fouquet,did honor to the French cavalry by their speed. Porthos did not clearlyunderstand on what kind of mission he was forced to display so muchvelocity; but as he saw Aramis spurring on furiously, he, Porthos,spurred on in the same way. They had soon, in this manner, placed twelveleagues between them and Vaux; they were then obliged to change horses,and organize a sort of post arrangement. It was during a relay thatPorthos ventured to interrogate Aramis discreetly.

  "Hush!" replied the latter, "know only that our fortune depends on ourspeed."

  As if Porthos had still been the musketeer, without a sou or a _maille_of 1626, he pushed forward. That magic word "fortune" always meanssomething in the human ear. It means _enough_ for those who havenothing; it means _too much_ for those who have enough.

  "I shall be made a duke!" said Porthos, aloud. He was speaking tohimself.

  "That is possible," replied Aramis, smiling after his own fashion, asPorthos's horse passed him. Aramis felt, notwithstanding, as though hisbrain were on fire; the activity of the body had not yet succeededin subduing that of the mind. All there is of raging passion, mentaltoothache or mortal threat, raged, gnawed and grumbled in the thoughtsof the unhappy prelate. His countenance exhibited visible traces of thisrude combat. Free on the highway to abandon himself to every impressionof the moment, Aramis did not fail to swear at every start of his horse,at every inequality in the road. Pale, at times inundated with boilingsweats, then again dry and icy, he flogged his horses till the bloodstreamed from their sides. Porthos, whose dominant fault was notsensibility, groaned at this. Thus traveled they on for eight longhours, and then arrived at Orleans. It was four o'clock in theafternoon. Aramis, on observing this, judged that nothing showed pursuitto be a possibility. It would be without example that a troop capableof taking him and Porthos should be furnished with relays sufficient toperform forty leagues in eight hours. Thus, admitting pursuit, which wasnot at all manifest, the fugitives were five hours in advance of theirpursuers.

  Aramis thought that there might be no imprudence in taking a littlerest, but that to continue would make the matter more certain. Twentyleagues more, performed with the same rapidity, twenty more leaguesdevoured, and no one, not even D'Artagnan, could overtake the enemiesof the king. Aramis felt obliged, therefore, to inflict upon Porthos thepain of mounting on horseback again. They rode on till seven o'clock inthe evening, and had only one post more between them and Blois. But herea diabolical accident alarmed Aramis greatly. There were no horses atthe post. The prelate asked himself by what infernal machinationhis enemies had succeeded in depriving him of the means of goingfurther,--he who never recognized chance as a deity, who found acause for every accident, preferred believing that the refusal of thepostmaster, at such an hour, in such a country, was the consequence ofan order emanating from above: an order given with a view of stoppingshort the king-maker in the midst of his flight. But at the moment hewas about to fly into a passion, so as to procure either a horse or anexplanation, he was struck with the recollection that the Comte de laFere lived in the neighborhood.

  "I am not traveling," said he; "I do not want horses for a wholestage. Find me two horses to go and pay a visit to a nobleman of myacquaintance who resides near this place."

  "What nobleman?" asked the postmaster.

  "M. le Comte de la Fere."

  "Oh!" replied the postmaster, uncovering with respect, "a very worthynobleman. But, whatever may be my desire to make myself agreeable tohim, I cannot furnish you with horses, for all mine are engaged by M. leDuc de Beaufort."

  "Indeed!" said Aramis, much disappointed.

  "Only," continued the postmaster, "if you will put up with a littlecarriage I have, I will harness an old blind horse who has still hislegs left, and peradventure will draw you to the house of M. le Comte dela Fere."

  "It is worth a louis," said Aramis.

  "No, monsieur, such a ride is worth no more than a crown; that is whatM. Grimaud, the comte's intendant, always pays me when he makes use ofthat carriage; and I should not wish the Comte de la Fere to have toreproach me with having imposed on one of his friends."

  "As you please," said Aramis, "particularly as regards disobliging theComte de la Fere; only I think I have a right to give you a louis foryour idea."

  "Oh! doubtless," replied the postmaster with delight. And he himselfharnessed the ancient horse to the creaking carriage. In the meantimePorthos was curious to behold. He imagined he had discovered a clew tothe secret, and he felt pleased, because a visit to Athos, in the firstplace, promised him much satisfaction, and, in the next, gave him thehope of finding at the same time a good bed and good supper. The master,having got the carriage ready, ordered one of his men to drive thestrangers to La Fere. Porthos took his seat by the side of Aramis,whispering in his ear, "I understand."

  "Aha!" said Aramis, "and what do you understand, my friend?"

  "We are going, on the part of the king, to make some great proposal toAthos."

  "Pooh!" said Aramis.

  "You need tell me nothing about it," added the worthy Porthos,endeavoring to reseat himself so as to avoid the jolting, "you need tellme nothing, I shall guess."

  "Well! do, my friend; guess away."

  They arrived at Athos's dwelling about nine o'clock in the evening,favored by a splendid moon. This cheerful light rejoiced Porthos beyondexpression; but Aramis appeared annoyed by it in an equal degree. Hecould not help showing something of this to Porthos, who replied--"Ay!ay! I guess how it is! the mission is a secret one."

  These were his last words in the carriage. The driver interrupted him bysaying, "Gentlemen, we have arrived."

  Porthos and his companion alighted before the gate of the littlechateau, where we are about to meet again our old acquaintances Athosand Bragelonne, the latter of whom had disappeared since the discoveryof the infidelity of La Valliere. If there be one saying truer thananother, it is this: great griefs contain within themselves the germof consolation. This painful wound, inflicted upon Raoul, had drawnhim nearer to his father again; and God knows how sweet were theconsolations which flowed from the eloquent mouth and generous heart ofAthos. The wound was not cicatrized, but Athos, by dint of conversingwith his son and mixing a little more of his life with that of the youngman, had brought him to understand that this pang of a first infidelityis necessary to every human existence; and that no one has loved withoutencountering it. Raoul listened, again and again, but never understood.Nothing replaces in the deeply afflicted heart the remembrance andthought of the beloved object. Raoul then replied to the reasoning ofhis father:

  "Monsieur, all that you tell me is true; I believe that no one hassuffered in the affections of the heart so much as you have; but youare a man too great by reason of intelligence, and too severely tried byadverse fortune not to allow for the weakness of the soldier who suffersfor the first time. I am paying a tribute that will not be paid a secondtime; permit me to plunge myself so deeply in my grief that I may forgetmyself in it, that I may drown even my reason in it."

  "Raoul! Raoul!"

  "Listen, monsieur. Never shall I accustom myself to the idea thatLouise, the chastest and most innocent of women, has been able to sobasely deceive a man so honest and so true a lover as myself. Never canI persuade myself that I see that sweet and noble mask change intoa hypocritical lascivious face. Louise lost! Louise infamous!Ah! monseigneur, that idea is much more cruel to me than Raoulabandoned--Raoul unhappy!"

  Athos then employed the heroic remedy. He defended Louise against Raoul,and justified her perfidy by her love. "A woman who would have yieldedto a king because he is a king," said he, "would deserve to be styledinfamous; but Louise loves Louis. Young, both, they have forgotten, hehis rank, she her vows. Love absolves everything, Raoul. The two youngpeople love each other with sincerity."

  And when he had dealt this severe poniard-thrust, Athos, with a si
gh,saw Raoul bound away beneath the rankling wound, and fly to the thickestrecesses of the wood, or the solitude of his chamber, whence, an hourafter, he would return, pale, trembling, but subdued. Then, coming upto Athos with a smile, he would kiss his hand, like the dog who, havingbeen beaten, caresses a respected master, to redeem his fault. Raoulredeemed nothing but his weakness, and only confessed his grief. Thuspassed away the days that followed that scene in which Athos hadso violently shaken the indomitable pride of the king. Never, whenconversing with his son, did he make any allusion to that scene; neverdid he give him the details of that vigorous lecture, which might,perhaps, have consoled the young man, by showing him his rival humbled.Athos did not wish that the offended lover should forget the respect dueto his king. And when Bragelonne, ardent, angry, and melancholy, spokewith contempt of royal words, of the equivocal faith which certainmadmen draw from promises that emanate from thrones, when, passing overtwo centuries, with that rapidity of a bird that traverses a narrowstrait to go from one continent to the other, Raoul ventured to predictthe time in which kings would be esteemed as less than other men, Athossaid to him, in his serene, persuasive voice, "You are right, Raoul;all that you say will happen; kings will lose their privileges, asstars which have survived their aeons lose their splendor. But when thatmoment comes, Raoul, we shall be dead. And remember well what I sayto you. In this world, all, men, women, and kings, must live for thepresent. We can only live for the future for God."

  This was the manner in which Athos and Raoul were, as usual, conversing,and walking backwards and forwards in the long alley of limes in thepark, when the bell which served to announce to the comte either thehour of dinner or the arrival of a visitor, was rung; and, withoutattaching any importance to it, he turned towards the house with hisson; and at the end of the alley they found themselves in the presenceof Aramis and Porthos.