Chapter LIX. The Bulletin.
The Duc de Beaufort wrote to Athos. The letter destined for the livingonly reached the dead. God had changed the address.
"MY DEAR COMTE," wrote the prince, in his large, school-boy's hand,--"agreat misfortune has struck us amidst a great triumph. The kingloses one of the bravest of soldiers. I lose a friend. You lose M. deBragelonne. He has died gloriously, so gloriously that I have not thestrength to weep as I could wish. Receive my sad compliments, my dearcomte. Heaven distributes trials according to the greatness of ourhearts. This is an immense one, but not above your courage. Your goodfriend,
"LE DUC DE BEAUFORT."
The letter contained a relation written by one of the prince'ssecretaries. It was the most touching recital, and the most true,of that dismal episode which unraveled two existences. D'Artagnan,accustomed to battle emotions, and with a heart armed againsttenderness, could not help starting on reading the name of Raoul, thename of that beloved boy who had become a shade now--like his father.
"In the morning," said the prince's secretary, "monseigneur commandedthe attack. Normandy and Picardy had taken positions in the rocksdominated by the heights of the mountain, upon the declivity of whichwere raised the bastions of Gigelli.
"The cannon opened the action; the regiments marched full of resolution;the pikemen with pikes elevated, the musket-bearers with their weaponsready. The prince followed attentively the march and movements of thetroops, so as to be able to sustain them with a strong reserve. Withmonseigneur were the oldest captains and his aides-de-camp. M. leVicomte de Bragelonne had received orders not to leave his highness. Inthe meantime the enemy's cannon, which at first thundered with littlesuccess against the masses, began to regulate their fire, and the balls,better directed, killed several men near the prince. The regimentsformed in column, and, advancing against the ramparts, were ratherroughly handled. There was a sort of hesitation in our troops, who foundthemselves ill-seconded by the artillery. In fact, the batteries whichhad been established the evening before had but a weak and uncertainaim, on account of their position. The upward direction of the aimlessened the justness of the shots as well as their range.
"Monseigneur, comprehending the bad effect of this position on the siegeartillery, commanded the frigates moored in the little road to commencea regular fire against the place. M. de Bragelonne offered himself atonce to carry this order. But monseigneur refused to acquiesce in thevicomte's request. Monseigneur was right, for he loved and wished tospare the young nobleman. He was quite right, and the event took uponitself to justify his foresight and refusal; for scarcely had thesergeant charged with the message solicited by M. de Bragelonne gainedthe seashore, when two shots from long carbines issued from the enemy'sranks and laid him low. The sergeant fell, dyeing the sand with hisblood; observing which, M. de Bragelonne smiled at monseigneur, who saidto him, 'You see, vicomte, I have saved your life. Report that, someday, to M. le Comte de la Fere, in order that, learning it from you, hemay thank me.' The young nobleman smiled sadly, and replied to the duke,'It is true, monseigneur, that but for your kindness I should have beenkilled, where the poor sergeant has fallen, and should be at rest.' M.de Bragelonne made this reply in such a tone that monseigneur answeredhim warmly, '_Vrai Dieu!_ Young man, one would say that your mouthwaters for death; but, by the soul of Henry IV., I have promised yourfather to bring you back alive; and, please the Lord, I mean to keep myword.'
"Monseigneur de Bragelonne colored, and replied, in a lower voice,'Monseigneur, pardon me, I beseech you. I have always had a desireto meet good opportunities; and it is so delightful to distinguishourselves before our general, particularly when that general is M. leDuc de Beaufort.'
"Monseigneur was a little softened by this; and, turning to the officerswho surrounded him, gave different orders. The grenadiers of the tworegiments got near enough to the ditches and intrenchments to launchtheir grenades, which had but small effect. In the meanwhile, M.d'Estrees, who commanded the fleet, having seen the attempt of thesergeant to approach the vessels, understood that he must act withoutorders, and opened fire. Then the Arabs, finding themselves seriouslyinjured by the balls from the fleet, and beholding the destruction andthe ruin of their walls, uttered the most fearful cries. Their horsemendescended the mountain at a gallop, bent over their saddles, and rushedfull tilt upon the columns of infantry, which, crossing their pikes,stopped this mad assault. Repulsed by the firm attitude of thebattalion, the Arabs threw themselves with fury towards the_etat-major_, which was not on its guard at that moment.
"The danger was great; monseigneur drew his sword; his secretaries andpeople imitated him; the officers of the suite engaged in combat withthe furious Arabs. It was then M. de Bragelonne was able to satisfy theinclination he had so clearly shown from the commencement of the action.He fought near the prince with the valor of a Roman, and killed threeArabs with his small sword. But it was evident that his bravery did notarise from that sentiment of pride so natural to all who fight. It wasimpetuous, affected, even forced; he sought to glut, intoxicate himselfwith strife and carnage. He excited himself to such a degree thatmonseigneur called to him to stop. He must have heard the voice ofmonseigneur, because we who were close to him heard it. He did not,however, stop, but continued his course to the intrenchments. As M.de Bragelonne was a well-disciplined officer, this disobedience to theorders of monseigneur very much surprised everybody, and M. de Beaufortredoubled his earnestness, crying, 'Stop, Bragelonne! Where are yougoing? Stop,' repeated monseigneur, 'I command you!'
"We all, imitating the gesture of M. le duc, we all raised our hands.We expected that the cavalier would turn bridle; but M. de Bragelonnecontinued to ride towards the palisades.
"'Stop, Bragelonne!' repeated the prince, in a very loud voice, 'stop!in the name of your father!'
"At these words M. de Bragelonne turned round; his countenance expresseda lively grief, but he did not stop; we then concluded that his horsemust have run away with him. When M. le duc saw cause to conclude thatthe vicomte was no longer master of his horse, and had watched himprecede the first grenadiers, his highness cried, 'Musketeers, killhis horse! A hundred pistoles for the man who kills his horse!' But whocould expect to hit the beast without at least wounding his rider?No one dared the attempt. At length one presented himself; he was asharp-shooter of the regiment of Picardy, named Luzerne, who took aimat the animal, fired, and hit him in the quarters, for we saw the bloodredden the hair of the horse. Instead of falling, the cursed jennet wasirritated, and carried him on more furiously than ever. Every Picard whosaw this unfortunate young man rushing on to meet certain death,shouted in the loudest manner, 'Throw yourself off, monsieur levicomte!--off!--off! throw yourself off!' M. de Bragelonne was anofficer much beloved in the army. Already had the vicomte arrived withinpistol-shot of the ramparts, when a discharge was poured upon himthat enshrouded him in fire and smoke. We lost sight of him; the smokedispersed; he was on foot, upright; his horse was killed.
"The vicomte was summoned to surrender by the Arabs, but he made thema negative sign with his head, and continued to march towards thepalisades. This was a mortal imprudence. Nevertheless the entire armywas pleased that he would not retreat, since ill-chance had led himso near. He marched a few paces further, and the two regiments clappedtheir hands. It was at this moment the second discharge shook the walls,and the Vicomte de Bragelonne again disappeared in the smoke; but thistime the smoke dispersed in vain; we no longer saw him standing. He wasdown, with his head lower than his legs, among the bushes, and the Arabsbegan to think of leaving their intrenchments to come and cut offhis head or take his body--as is the custom with the infidels. ButMonseigneur le Duc de Beaufort had followed all this with his eyes, andthe sad spectacle drew from him many painful sighs. He then cried aloud,seeing the Arabs running like white phantoms among the mastic-trees,'Grenadiers! lancers! will you let them take that noble body?'
"Saying these words and waving his sword, he himself rode towards theenemy. The re
giments, rushing in his steps, ran in their turn, utteringcries as terrible as those of the Arabs were wild.
"The combat commenced over the body of M. de Bragelonne, and with suchinveteracy was it fought that a hundred and sixty Arabs were leftupon the field, by the side of at least fifty of our troops. It wasa lieutenant from Normandy who took the body of the vicomte on hisshoulders and carried it back to the lines. The advantage was, however,pursued, the regiments took the reserve with them, and the enemy'spalisades were utterly destroyed. At three o'clock the fire of the Arabsceased; the hand-to-hand fight lasted two hours; it was a massacre. Atfive o'clock we were victorious at all points; the enemy had abandonedhis positions, and M. le duc ordered the white flag to be planted on thesummit of the little mountain. It was then we had time to think of M. deBragelonne, who had eight large wounds in his body, through which almostall his blood had welled away. Still, however, he had breathed, whichafforded inexpressible joy to monseigneur, who insisted on beingpresent at the first dressing of the wounds and the consultation of thesurgeons. There were two among them who declared M. de Bragelonne wouldlive. Monseigneur threw his arms around their necks, and promised them athousand louis each if they could save him.
"The vicomte heard these transports of joy, and whether he was indespair, or whether he suffered much from his wounds, he expressedby his countenance a contradiction, which gave rise to reflection,particularly in one of the secretaries when he had heard what follows.The third surgeon was the brother of Sylvain de Saint-Cosme, the mostlearned of them all. He probed the wounds in his turn, and said nothing.M. de Bragelonne fixed his eyes steadily upon the skillful surgeon,and seemed to interrogate his every movement. The latter, upon beingquestioned by monseigneur, replied that he saw plainly three mortalwounds out of eight, but so strong was the constitution of the wounded,so rich was he in youth, and so merciful was the goodness of God, thatperhaps M. de Bragelonne might recover, particularly if he did notmove in the slightest manner. Frere Sylvain added, turning towards hisassistants, 'Above everything, do not allow him to move, even a finger,or you will kill him;' and we all left the tent in very low spirits.That secretary I have mentioned, on leaving the tent, thought heperceived a faint and sad smile glide over the lips of M. de Bragelonnewhen the duke said to him, in a cheerful, kind voice, 'We will save you,vicomte, we will save you yet.'
"In the evening, when it was believed the wounded youth had taken somerepose, one of the assistants entered his tent, but rushed out againimmediately, uttering loud cries. We all ran up in disorder, M. le ducwith us, and the assistant pointed to the body of M. de Bragelonneupon the ground, at the foot of his bed, bathed in the remainder of hisblood. It appeared that he had suffered some convulsion, some delirium,and that he had fallen; that the fall had accelerated his end, accordingto the prognosis of Frere Sylvain. We raised the vicomte; he was coldand dead. He held a lock of fair hair in his right hand, and that handwas tightly pressed upon his heart."
Then followed the details of the expedition, and of the victory obtainedover the Arabs. D'Artagnan stopped at the account of the death of poorRaoul. "Oh!" murmured he, "unhappy boy! a suicide!" And turning hiseyes towards the chamber of the chateau, in which Athos slept in eternalsleep, "They kept their words with each other," said he, in a low voice;"now I believe them to be happy; they must be reunited." And hereturned through the parterre with slow and melancholy steps. All thevillage--all the neighborhood--were filled with grieving neighborsrelating to each other the double catastrophe, and making preparationsfor the funeral.
Chapter LX. The Last Canto of the Poem.
On the morrow, all the _noblesse_ of the provinces, of the environs, andwherever messengers had carried the news, might have been seen arrivingin detachments. D'Artagnan had shut himself up, without being willingto speak to anybody. Two such heavy deaths falling upon the captain,so closely after the death of Porthos, for a long time oppressed thatspirit which had hitherto been so indefatigable and invulnerable.Except Grimaud, who entered his chamber once, the musketeer saw neitherservants nor guests. He supposed, from the noises in the house, and thecontinual coming and going, that preparations were being made for thefuneral of the comte. He wrote to the king to ask for an extension ofhis leave of absence. Grimaud, as we have said, had entered D'Artagnan'sapartment, had seated himself upon a joint-stool near the door, like aman who meditates profoundly; then, rising, he made a sign to D'Artagnanto follow him. The latter obeyed in silence. Grimaud descended to thecomte's bed-chamber, showed the captain with his finger the place of theempty bed, and raised his eyes eloquently towards Heaven.
"Yes," replied D'Artagnan, "yes, good Grimaud--now with the son he lovedso much!"
Grimaud left the chamber, and led the way to the hall, where, accordingto the custom of the province, the body was laid out, previously tobeing put away forever. D'Artagnan was struck at seeing two open coffinsin the hall. In reply to the mute invitation of Grimaud, he approached,and saw in one of them Athos, still handsome in death, and, in theother, Raoul with his eyes closed, his cheeks pearly as those of thePalls of Virgil, with a smile on his violet lips. He shuddered at seeingthe father and son, those two departed souls, represented on earth bytwo silent, melancholy bodies, incapable of touching each other, howeverclose they might be.
"Raoul here!" murmured he. "Oh! Grimaud, why did you not tell me this?"
Grimaud shook his head, and made no reply; but taking D'Artagnan bythe hand, he led him to the coffin, and showed him, under the thinwinding-sheet, the black wounds by which life had escaped. The captainturned away his eyes, and, judging it was useless to question Grimaud,who would not answer, he recollected that M. de Beaufort's secretary hadwritten more than he, D'Artagnan, had had the courage to read. Taking upthe recital of the affair which had cost Raoul his life, he found thesewords, which ended the concluding paragraph of the letter:
"Monseigneur le duc has ordered that the body of monsieur le vicomteshould be embalmed, after the manner practiced by the Arabs when theywish their dead to be carried to their native land; and monsieur le duchas appointed relays, so that the same confidential servant who broughtup the young man might take back his remains to M. le Comte de la Fere."
"And so," thought D'Artagnan, "I shall follow thy funeral, my dearboy--I, already old--I, who am of no value on earth--and I shall scatterdust upon that brow I kissed but two months since. God has willed it tobe so. Thou hast willed it to be so, thyself. I have no longer the righteven to weep. Thou hast chosen death; it seemed to thee a preferablegift to life."
At length arrived the moment when the chill remains of these twogentlemen were to be given back to mother earth. There was such anaffluence of military and other people that up to the place of thesepulture, which was a little chapel on the plain, the road from thecity was filled with horsemen and pedestrians in mourning. Athos hadchosen for his resting-place the little inclosure of a chapel erected byhimself near the boundary of his estates. He had had the stones, cutin 1550, brought from an old Gothic manor-house in Berry, which hadsheltered his early youth. The chapel, thus rebuilt, transported, waspleasing to the eye beneath its leafy curtains of poplars and sycamores.It was ministered in every Sunday, by the cure of the neighboring bourg,to whom Athos paid an allowance of two hundred francs for this service;and all the vassals of his domain, with their families, came thither tohear mass, without having any occasion to go to the city.
Behind the chapel extended, surrounded by two high hedges ofhazel, elder and white thorn, and a deep ditch, the littleinclosure--uncultivated, though gay in its sterility; because the mossesthere grew thick, wild heliotrope and ravenelles there mingled perfumes,while from beneath an ancient chestnut issued a crystal spring, aprisoner in its marble cistern, and on the thyme all around alightedthousands of bees from the neighboring plants, whilst chaffinches andredthroats sang cheerfully among the flower-spangled hedges. It was tothis place the somber coffins were carried, attended by a silent andrespectful crowd. The office of the dead being celebrated, the last
adieux paid to the noble departed, the assembly dispersed, talking,along the roads, of the virtues and mild death of the father, of thehopes the son had given, and of his melancholy end upon the arid coastof Africa.
Little by little, all noises were extinguished, like the lampsilluminating the humble nave. The minister bowed for the last time tothe altar and the still fresh graves; then, followed by his assistant,he slowly took the road back to the presbytery. D'Artagnan, left alone,perceived that night was coming on. He had forgotten the hour, thinkingonly of the dead. He arose from the oaken bench on which he was seatedin the chapel, and wished, as the priest had done, to go and bid a lastadieu to the double grave which contained his two lost friends.
A woman was praying, kneeling on the moist earth. D'Artagnan stopped atthe door of the chapel, to avoid disturbing her, and also to endeavor tofind out who was the pious friend who performed this sacred duty withso much zeal and perseverance. The unknown had hidden her face in herhands, which were white as alabaster. From the noble simplicity of hercostume, she must be a woman of distinction. Outside the inclosure wereseveral horses mounted by servants; a travelling carriage was in waitingfor this lady. D'Artagnan in vain sought to make out what caused herdelay. She continued praying, and frequently pressed her handkerchief toher face, by which D'Artagnan perceived she was weeping. He beheld herstrike her breast with the compunction of a Christian woman. He heardher several times exclaim as from a wounded heart: "Pardon! pardon!" Andas she appeared to abandon herself entirely to her grief, as she threwherself down, almost fainting, exhausted by complaints and prayers,D'Artagnan, touched by this love for his so much regretted friends,made a few steps towards the grave, in order to interrupt the melancholycolloquy of the penitent with the dead. But as soon as his step soundedon the gravel, the unknown raised her head, revealing to D'Artagnan aface aflood with tears, a well-known face. It was Mademoiselle de laValliere! "Monsieur d'Artagnan!" murmured she.
"You!" replied the captain, in a stern voice, "you here!--oh! madame, Ishould better have liked to see you decked with flowers in the mansionof the Comte de la Fere. You would have wept less--and they too--and I!"
"Monsieur!" said she, sobbing.
"For it was you," added this pitiless friend of the dead,--"it was youwho sped these two men to the grave."
"Oh! spare me!"
"God forbid, madame, that I should offend a woman, or that I should makeher weep in vain; but I must say that the place of the murderer is notupon the grave of her victims." She wished to reply.
"What I now tell you," added he, coldly, "I have already told the king."
She clasped her hands. "I know," said she, "I have caused the death ofthe Vicomte de Bragelonne."
"Ah! you know it?"
"The news arrived at court yesterday. I have traveled during the nightforty leagues to come and ask pardon of the comte, whom I supposed to bestill living, and to pray God, on the tomb of Raoul, that he wouldsend me all the misfortunes I have merited, except a single one. Now,monsieur, I know that the death of the son has killed the father; I havetwo crimes to reproach myself with; I have two punishments to expectfrom Heaven."
"I will repeat to you, mademoiselle," said D'Artagnan, "what M. deBragelonne said of you, at Antibes, when he already meditated death: 'Ifpride and coquetry have misled her, I pardon her while despising her. Iflove has produced her error, I pardon her, but I swear that no one couldhave loved her as I have done.'"
"You know," interrupted Louise, "that of my love I was about tosacrifice myself; you know whether I suffered when you met me lost,dying, abandoned. Well! never have I suffered so much as now; becausethen I hoped, desired,--now I have no longer anything to wish for;because this death drags all my joy into the tomb; because I can nolonger dare to love without remorse, and I feel that he whom I love--oh!it is but just!--will repay me with the tortures I have made othersundergo."
D'Artagnan made no reply; he was too well convinced that she was notmistaken.
"Well, then," added she, "dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, do not overwhelm meto-day, I again implore you! I am like the branch torn from the trunk, Ino longer hold to anything in this world--a current drags me on, Iknow not whither. I love madly, even to the point of coming to tell it,wretch that I am, over the ashes of the dead, and I do not blush forit--I have no remorse on this account. Such love is a religion. Only, ashereafter you will see me alone, forgotten, disdained; as you will seeme punished, as I am destined to be punished, spare me in my ephemeralhappiness, leave it to me for a few days, for a few minutes. Now, evenat the moment I am speaking to you, perhaps it no longer exists. My God!this double murder is perhaps already expiated!"
While she was speaking thus, the sound of voices and of horses drew theattention of the captain. M. de Saint-Aignan came to seek LaValliere. "The king," he said, "is a prey to jealousy and uneasiness."Saint-Aignan did not perceive D'Artagnan, half concealed by the trunkof a chestnut-tree which shaded the double grave. Louise thankedSaint-Aignan, and dismissed him with a gesture. He rejoined the partyoutside the inclosure.
"You see, madame," said the captain bitterly to the young woman,--"yousee your happiness still lasts."
The young woman raised her head with a solemn air. "A day will come,"said she, "when you will repent of having so misjudged me. On that day,it is I who will pray God to forgive you for having been unjust towardsme. Besides, I shall suffer so much that you yourself will be the firstto pity my sufferings. Do not reproach me with my fleeting happiness,Monsieur d'Artagnan; it costs me dear, and I have not paid all my debt."Saying these words, she again knelt down, softly and affectionately.
"Pardon me the last time, my affianced Raoul!" said she. "I havebroken our chain; we are both destined to die of grief. It is thou whodepartest first; fear nothing, I shall follow thee. See, only, that Ihave not been base, and that I have come to bid thee this last adieu.The Lord is my witness, Raoul, that if with my life I could haveredeemed thine, I would have given that life without hesitation. I couldnot give my love. Once more, forgive me, dearest, kindest friend."
She strewed a few sweet flowers on the freshly sodded earth; then,wiping the tears from her eyes, the heavily stricken lady bowed toD'Artagnan, and disappeared.
The captain watched the departure of the horses, horsemen, and carriage,then crossing his arms upon his swelling chest, "When will it be my turnto depart?" said he, in an agitated voice. "What is there left forman after youth, love, glory, friendship, strength, and wealth havedisappeared? That rock, under which sleeps Porthos, who possessed all Ihave named; this moss, under which repose Athos and Raoul, who possessedmuch more!"
He hesitated for a moment, with a dull eye; then, drawing himself up,"Forward! still forward!" said he. "When it is time, God will tell me,as he foretold the others."
He touched the earth, moistened with the evening dew, with the endsof his fingers, signed himself as if he had been at the _benitier_ inchurch, and retook alone--ever alone--the road to Paris.
Epilogue.
Four years after the scene we have just described, two horsemen, wellmounted, traversed Blois early in the morning, for the purpose ofarranging a hawking party the king had arranged to make in that unevenplain the Loire divides in two, which borders on the one side Meung, onthe other Amboise. These were the keeper of the king's harriers and themaster of the falcons, personages greatly respected in the time ofLouis XIII., but rather neglected by his successor. The horsemen, havingreconnoitered the ground, were returning, their observations made, whenthey perceived certain little groups of soldiers, here and there,whom the sergeants were placing at distances at the openings of theinclosures. These were the king's musketeers. Behind them came, upon asplendid horse, the captain, known by his richly embroidered uniform.His hair was gray, his beard turning so. He seemed a little bent,although sitting and handling his horse gracefully. He was looking abouthim watchfully.
"M. d'Artagnan does not get any older," said the keeper of the harriersto his colleague the falconer; "with ten years
more to carry than eitherof us, he has the seat of a young man on horseback."
"That is true," replied the falconer. "I don't see any change in him forthe last twenty years."
But this officer was mistaken; D'Artagnan in the last four years hadlived a dozen. Age had printed its pitiless claws at each angle of hiseyes; his brow was bald; his hands, formerly brown and nervous, weregetting white, as if the blood had half forgotten them.
D'Artagnan accosted the officers with the shade of affability whichdistinguishes superiors, and received in turn for his courtesy two mostrespectful bows.
"Ah! what a lucky chance to see you here, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" criedthe falconer.
"It is rather I who should say that, messieurs," replied the captain,"for nowadays, the king makes more frequent use of his musketeers thanof his falcons."
"Ah! it is not as it was in the good old times," sighed the falconer."Do you remember, Monsieur d'Artagnan, when the late king flew the piein the vineyards beyond Beaugence? Ah! _dame!_ you were not the captainof the musketeers at that time, Monsieur d'Artagnan." [7]
"And you were nothing but under-corporal of the tiercelets," repliedD'Artagnan, laughing. "Never mind that, it was a good time, seeingthat it is always a good time when we are young. Good day, monsieur thekeeper of the harriers."
"You do me honor, monsieur le comte," said the latter. D'Artagnan madeno reply. The title of comte had hardly struck him; D'Artagnan had beena comte four years.
"Are you not very much fatigued with the long journey you have taken,monsieur le capitaine?" continued the falconer. "It must be full twohundred leagues from hence to Pignerol."
"Two hundred and sixty to go, and as many to return," said D'Artagnan,quietly.
"And," said the falconer, "is _he_ well?"
"Who?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Why, poor M. Fouquet," continued the falconer, in a low voice. Thekeeper of the harriers had prudently withdrawn.
"No," replied D'Artagnan, "the poor man frets terribly; he cannotcomprehend how imprisonment can be a favor; he says that parliamentabsolved him by banishing him, and banishment is, or should be, liberty.He cannot imagine that they had sworn his death, and that to save hislife from the claws of parliament was to be under too much obligation toHeaven."
"Ah! yes; the poor man had a close chance of the scaffold," replied thefalconer; "it is said that M. Colbert had given orders to the governorof the Bastile, and that the execution was ordered."
"Enough!" said D'Artagnan, pensively, and with a view of cutting shortthe conversation.
"Yes," said the keeper of the harriers, drawing towards them, "M.Fouquet is now at Pignerol; he has richly deserved it. He had the goodfortune to be conducted there by you; he robbed the king sufficiently."
D'Artagnan launched at the master of the dogs one of his crossest looks,and said to him, "Monsieur, if any one told me you had eaten your dogs'meat, not only would I refuse to believe it; but still more, if you werecondemned to the lash or to jail for it, I should pity you and would notallow people to speak ill of you. And yet, monsieur, honest man as youmay be, I assure you that you are not more so than poor M. Fouquet was."
After having undergone this sharp rebuke, the keeper of the harriershung his head, and allowed the falconer to get two steps in advance ofhim nearer to D'Artagnan.
"He is content," said the falconer, in a low voice, to the musketeer;"we all know that harriers are in fashion nowadays; if he were afalconer he would not talk in that way."
D'Artagnan smiled in a melancholy manner at seeing this great politicalquestion resolved by the discontent of such humble interest. He for amoment ran over in his mind the glorious existence of the surintendant,the crumbling of his fortunes, and the melancholy death that awaitedhim; and to conclude, "Did M. Fouquet love falconry?" said he.
"Oh, passionately, monsieur!" repeated the falconer, with an accent ofbitter regret and a sigh that was the funeral oration of Fouquet.
D'Artagnan allowed the ill-humor of the one and the regret of the otherto pass, and continued to advance. They could already catch glimpsesof the huntsmen at the issue of the wood, the feathers of the outriderspassing like shooting stars across the clearings, and the white horsesskirting the bosky thickets looking like illuminated apparitions.
"But," resumed D'Artagnan, "will the sport last long? Pray, give us agood swift bird, for I am very tired. Is it a heron or a swan?"
"Both, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the falconer; "but you need not bealarmed; the king is not much of a sportsman; he does not take the fieldon his own account, he only wishes to amuse the ladies."
The words "to amuse the ladies" were so strongly accented they setD'Artagnan thinking.
"Ah!" said he, looking keenly at the falconer.
The keeper of the harriers smiled, no doubt with a view of making it upwith the musketeer.
"Oh! you may safely laugh," said D'Artagnan; "I know nothing of currentnews; I only arrived yesterday, after a month's absence. I left thecourt mourning the death of the queen-mother. The king was not willingto take any amusement after receiving the last sigh of Anne of Austria;but everything comes to an end in this world. Well! then he is no longersad? So much the better." [8]
"And everything begins as well as ends," said the keeper with a coarselaugh.
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan, a second time,--he burned to know, but dignitywould not allow him to interrogate people below him,--"there issomething beginning, then, it seems?"
The keeper gave him a significant wink; but D'Artagnan was unwilling tolearn anything from this man.
"Shall we see the king early?" asked he of the falconer.
"At seven o'clock, monsieur, I shall fly the birds."
"Who comes with the king? How is Madame? How is the queen?"
"Better, monsieur."
"Has she been ill, then?"
"Monsieur, since the last chagrin she suffered, her majesty has beenunwell."
"What chagrin? You need not fancy your news is old. I have but justreturned."
"It appears that the queen, a little neglected since the death of hermother-in-law, complained to the king, who answered her,--'Do I notsleep at home every night, madame? What more do you expect?'"
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan,--"poor woman! She must heartily hate Mademoisellede la Valliere."
"Oh, no! not Mademoiselle de la Valliere," replied the falconer.
"Who then--" The blast of a hunting-horn interrupted this conversation.It summoned the dogs and the hawks. The falconer and his companions setoff immediately, leaving D'Artagnan alone in the midst of the suspendedsentence. The king appeared at a distance, surrounded by ladies andhorsemen. All the troop advanced in beautiful order, at a foot's pace,the horns of various sorts animating the dogs and horses. There was ananimation in the scene, a mirage of light, of which nothing now can givean idea, unless it be the fictitious splendor of a theatric spectacle.D'Artagnan, with an eye a little, just a little, dimmed by age,distinguished behind the group three carriages. The first was intendedfor the queen; it was empty. D'Artagnan, who did not see Mademoiselle dela Valliere by the king's side, on looking about for her, saw her in thesecond carriage. She was alone with two of her women, who seemed as dullas their mistress. On the left hand of the king, upon a high-spiritedhorse, restrained by a bold and skillful hand, shone a lady of mostdazzling beauty. The king smiled upon her, and she smiled upon the king.Loud laughter followed every word she uttered.
"I must know that woman," thought the musketeer; "who can she be?" Andhe stooped towards his friend, the falconer, to whom he addressed thequestion he had put to himself.
The falconer was about to reply, when the king, perceiving D'Artagnan,"Ah, comte!" said he, "you are amongst us once more then! Why have I notseen you?"
"Sire," replied the captain, "because your majesty was asleep when Iarrived, and not awake when I resumed my duties this morning."
"Still the same," said Louis, in a loud voice, denoting satisfaction."Take some rest, comte; I command you to do so.
You will dine with meto-day."
A murmur of admiration surrounded D'Artagnan like a caress. Every onewas eager to salute him. Dining with the king was an honor his majestywas not so prodigal of as Henry IV. had been. The king passed a fewsteps in advance, and D'Artagnan found himself in the midst of a freshgroup, among whom shone Colbert.
"Good-day, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the minister, with markedaffability, "have you had a pleasant journey?"
"Yes, monsieur," said D'Artagnan, bowing to the neck of his horse.
"I heard the king invite you to his table for this evening," continuedthe minister; "you will meet an old friend there."
"An old friend of mine?" asked D'Artagnan, plunging painfully intothe dark waves of the past, which had swallowed up for him so manyfriendships and so many hatreds.
"M. le Duc d'Almeda, who is arrived this morning from Spain."
"The Duc d'Almeda?" said D'Artagnan, reflecting in vain.
"Here!" cried an old man, white as snow, sitting bent in his carriage,which he caused to be thrown open to make room for the musketeer.
"_Aramis!_" cried D'Artagnan, struck with profound amazement. And hefelt, inert as it was, the thin arm of the old nobleman hanging roundhis neck.
Colbert, after having observed them in silence for a few moments, urgedhis horse forward, and left the two old friends together.
"And so," said the musketeer, taking Aramis's arm, "you, the exile, therebel, are again in France?"
"Ah! and I shall dine with you at the king's table," said Aramis,smiling. "Yes, will you not ask yourself what is the use of fidelityin this world? Stop! let us allow poor La Valliere's carriage to pass.Look, how uneasy she is! How her eyes, dim with tears, follow the king,who is riding on horseback yonder!"
"With whom?"
"With Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, now Madame de Montespan," repliedAramis.
"She is jealous. Is she then deserted?"
"Not quite yet, but it will not be long before she _is_." [9]
They chatted together, while following the sport, and Aramis's coachmandrove them so cleverly that they arrived at the instant when the falcon,attacking the bird, beat him down, and fell upon him. The king alighted;Madame de Montespan followed his example. They were in front of anisolated chapel, concealed by huge trees, already despoiled of theirleaves by the first cutting winds of autumn. Behind this chapel was aninclosure, closed by a latticed gate. The falcon had beaten down hisprey in the inclosure belonging to this little chapel, and the king wasdesirous of going in to take the first feather, according to custom. The_cortege_ formed a circle round the building and the hedges, too smallto receive so many. D'Artagnan held back Aramis by the arm, as he wasabout, like the rest, to alight from his carriage, and in a hoarse,broken voice, "Do you know, Aramis," said he, "whither chance hasconducted us?"
"No," replied the duke.
"Here repose men that we knew well," said D'Artagnan, greatly agitated.
Aramis, without divining anything, and with a trembling step, penetratedinto the chapel by a little door which D'Artagnan opened for him. "Whereare they buried?" said he.
"There, in the inclosure. There is a cross, you see, beneath yon littlecypress. The tree of grief is planted over their tomb; don't go to it;the king is going that way; the heron has fallen just there."
Aramis stopped, and concealed himself in the shade. They then saw,without being seen, the pale face of La Valliere, who, neglected in hercarriage, at first looked on, with a melancholy heart, from the door,and then, carried away by jealousy, advanced into the chapel, whence,leaning against a pillar, she contemplated the king smiling and makingsigns to Madame de Montespan to approach, as there was nothing to beafraid of. Madame de Montespan complied; she took the hand the king heldout to her, and he, plucking out the first feather from the heron, whichthe falconer had strangled, placed it in his beautiful companion's hat.She, smiling in her turn, kissed the hand tenderly which made her thispresent. The king grew scarlet with vanity and pleasure; he looked atMadame de Montespan with all the fire of new love.
"What will you give me in exchange?" said he.
She broke off a little branch of cypress and offered it to the king, wholooked intoxicated with hope.
"Humph!" said Aramis to D'Artagnan; "the present is but a sad one, forthat cypress shades a tomb."
"Yes, and the tomb is that of Raoul de Bragelonne," said D'Artagnanaloud; "of Raoul, who sleeps under that cross with his father."
A groan resounded--they saw a woman fall fainting to the ground.Mademoiselle de la Valliere had seen all, heard all.
"Poor woman!" muttered D'Artagnan, as he helped the attendants to carryback to her carriage the lonely lady whose lot henceforth in life wassuffering.
That evening D'Artagnan was seated at the king's table, near M. Colbertand M. le Duc d'Almeda. The king was very gay. He paid a thousand littleattentions to the queen, a thousand kindnesses to Madame, seated at hisleft hand, and very sad. It might have been supposed that time of calmwhen the king was wont to watch his mother's eyes for the approval ordisapproval of what he had just done.
Of mistresses there was no question at this dinner. The king addressedAramis two or three times, calling him M. l'ambassadeur, which increasedthe surprise already felt by D'Artagnan at seeing his friend the rebelso marvelously well received at court.
The king, on rising from table, gave his hand to the queen, and madea sign to Colbert, whose eye was on his master's face. Colbert tookD'Artagnan and Aramis on one side. The king began to chat with hissister, whilst Monsieur, very uneasy, entertained the queen with apreoccupied air, without ceasing to watch his wife and brother fromthe corner of his eye. The conversation between Aramis, D'Artagnan,and Colbert turned upon indifferent subjects. They spoke of precedingministers; Colbert related the successful tricks of Mazarin, and desiredthose of Richelieu to be related to him. D'Artagnan could not overcomehis surprise at finding this man, with his heavy eyebrows and lowforehead, display so much sound knowledge and cheerful spirits. Aramiswas astonished at that lightness of character which permitted thisserious man to retard with advantage the moment for more importantconversation, to which nobody made any allusion, although allthree interlocutors felt its imminence. It was very plain, from theembarrassed appearance of Monsieur, how much the conversation of theking and Madame annoyed him. Madame's eyes were almost red: was shegoing to complain? Was she going to expose a little scandal in opencourt? The king took her on one side, and in a tone so tender thatit must have reminded the princess of the time when she was loved forherself:
"Sister," said he, "why do I see tears in those lovely eyes?"
"Why--sire--" said she.
"Monsieur is jealous, is he not, sister?"
She looked towards Monsieur, an infallible sign that they were talkingabout him.
"Yes," said she.
"Listen to me," said the king; "if your friends compromise you, it isnot Monsieur's fault."
He spoke these words with so much kindness that Madame, encouraged,having borne so many solitary griefs so long, was nearly bursting intotears, so full was her heart.
"Come, come, dear little sister," said the king, "tell me your griefs;on the word of a brother, I pity them; on the word of a king, I will putan end to them."
She raised her glorious eyes and, in a melancholy tone:
"It is not my friends who compromise me," said she; "they are eitherabsent or concealed; they have been brought into disgrace with yourmajesty; they, so devoted, so good, so loyal!"
"You say this on account of De Guiche, whom I have exiled, at Monsieur'sdesire?"
"And who, since that unjust exile, has endeavored to get himself killedonce every day."
"Unjust, say you, sister?"
"So unjust, that if I had not had the respect mixed with friendship thatI have always entertained for your majesty--"
"Well!"
"Well! I would have asked my brother Charles, upon whom I can always--"
The king started. "What, the
n?"
"I would have asked him to have had it represented to you that Monsieurand his favorite M. le Chevalier de Lorraine ought not with impunity toconstitute themselves the executioners of my honor and my happiness."
"The Chevalier de Lorraine," said the king; "that dismal fellow?"
"Is my mortal enemy. Whilst that man lives in my household, whereMonsieur retains him and delegates his power to him, I shall be the mostmiserable woman in the kingdom."
"So," said the king, slowly, "you call your brother of England a betterfriend than I am?"
"Actions speak for themselves, sire."
"And you would prefer going to ask assistance there--"
"To my own country!" said she with pride; "yes, sire."
"You are the grandchild of Henry IV. as well as myself, lady. Cousinand brother-in-law, does not that amount pretty well to the title ofbrother-germain?"
"Then," said Henrietta, "act!"
"Let us form an alliance."
"Begin."
"I have, you say, unjustly exiled De Guiche."
"Oh! yes," said she, blushing.
"De Guiche shall return." [10]
"So far, well."
"And now you say that I do wrong in having in your household theChevalier de Lorraine, who gives Monsieur ill advice respecting you?"
"Remember well what I tell you, sire; the Chevalier de Lorraine someday--Observe, if ever I come to a dreadful end, I beforehand accuse theChevalier de Lorraine; he has a spirit that is capable of any crime!"
"The Chevalier de Lorraine shall no longer annoy you--I promise youthat." [11]
"Then that will be a true preliminary of alliance, sire,--I sign; butsince you have done your part, tell me what shall be mine."
"Instead of embroiling me with your brother Charles, you must make him amore intimate friend than ever."
"That is very easy."
"Oh! not quite so easy as you may suppose, for in ordinary friendshippeople embrace or exercise hospitality, and that only costs a kiss or areturn, profitable expenses; but in political friendship--"
"Ah! it's a political friendship, is it?"
"Yes, my sister; and then, instead of embraces and feasts, it issoldiers--it is soldiers all alive and well equipped--that we must serveup to our friends; vessels we must offer, all armed with cannons andstored with provisions. It hence results that we have not always coffersin a fit condition for such friendships."
"Ah! you are quite right," said Madame; "the coffers of the king ofEngland have been sonorous for some time."
"But you, my sister, who have so much influence over your brother, youcan secure more than an ambassador could ever get the promise of."
"To effect that I must go to London, my dear brother."
"I have thought so," replied the king, eagerly; "and I have said tomyself that such a voyage would do your health and spirits good."
"Only," interrupted Madame, "it is possible I should fail. The king ofEngland has dangerous counselors."
"Counselors, do you say?"
"Precisely. If, by chance, your majesty had any intention--I am onlysupposing so--of asking Charles II. his alliance in a war--"
"A war?"
"Yes; well! then the king's counselors, who are in numberseven--Mademoiselle Stewart, Mademoiselle Wells, Mademoiselle Gwyn,Miss Orchay, Mademoiselle Zunga, Miss Davies, and the proud Countess ofCastlemaine--will represent to the king that war costs a great deal ofmoney; that it is better to give balls and suppers at Hampton Court thanto equip ships of the line at Portsmouth and Greenwich."
"And then your negotiations will fail?"
"Oh! those ladies cause all negotiations to fall through which theydon't make themselves."
"Do you know the idea that has struck me, sister?"
"No; inform me what it is."
"It is that, searching well around you, you might perhaps find a femalecounselor to take with you to your brother, whose eloquence mightparalyze the ill-will of the seven others."
"That is really an idea, sire, and I will search."
"You will find what you want."
"I hope so."
"A pretty ambassadress is necessary; an agreeable face is better than anugly one, is it not?"
"Most assuredly."
"An animated, lively, audacious character."
"Certainly."
"Nobility; that is, enough to enable her to approach the king withoutawkwardness--not too lofty, so as not to trouble herself about thedignity of her race."
"Very true."
"And who knows a little English."
"_Mon Dieu!_ why, some one," cried Madame, "like Mademoiselle deKeroualle, for instance!"
"Oh! why, yes!" said Louis XIV.; "you have hit the mark,--it is you whohave found, my sister."
"I will take her; she will have no cause to complain, I suppose."
"Oh! no, I will name her _seductrice plenipotentiaire_ at once, and willadd a dowry to the title."
"That is well."
"I fancy you already on your road, my dear little sister, consoled forall your griefs."
"I will go, on two conditions. The first is, that I shall know what I amnegotiating about."
"That is it. The Dutch, you know, insult me daily in their gazettes, andby their republican attitude. I do not like republics."
"That may easily be imagined, sire."
"I see with pain that these kings of the sea--they call themselvesso--keep trade from France in the Indies, and that their vessels willsoon occupy all the ports of Europe. Such a power is too near me,sister."
"They are your allies, nevertheless."
"That is why they were wrong in having the medal you have heard ofstruck; a medal which represents Holland stopping the sun, as Joshuadid, with this legend: _The sun had stopped before me_. There is notmuch fraternity in that, _is_ there?"
"I thought you had forgotten that miserable episode?"
"I never forget anything, sister. And if my true friends, such as yourbrother Charles, are willing to second me--" The princess remainedpensively silent.
"Listen to me; there is the empire of the seas to be shared," saidLouis XIV. "For this partition, which England submits to, could I notrepresent the second party as well as the Dutch?"
"We have Mademoiselle de Keroualle to treat that question," repliedMadame.
"Your second condition for going, if you please, sister?"
"The consent of Monsieur, my husband."
"You shall have it."
"Then consider me already gone, brother."
On hearing these words, Louis XIV. turned round towards the corner ofthe room in which D'Artagnan, Colbert, and Aramis stood, and madean affirmative sign to his minister. Colbert then broke in on theconversation suddenly, and said to Aramis:
"Monsieur l'ambassadeur, shall we talk about business?"
D'Artagnan immediately withdrew, from politeness. He directed his stepstowards the fireplace, within hearing of what the king was about to sayto Monsieur, who, evidently uneasy, had gone to him. The face of theking was animated. Upon his brow was stamped a strength of will, theexpression of which already met no further contradiction in France, andwas soon to meet no more in Europe.
"Monsieur," said the king to his brother, "I am not pleased with M. leChevalier de Lorraine. You, who do him the honor to protect him, mustadvise him to travel for a few months."
These words fell with the crush of an avalanche upon Monsieur, whoadored his favorite, and concentrated all his affections in him.
"In what has the chevalier been inconsiderate enough to displease yourmajesty?" cried he, darting a furious look at Madame.
"I will tell you that when he is gone," said the king, suavely. "Andalso when Madame, here, shall have crossed over into England."
"Madame! in England!" murmured Monsieur, in amazement.
"In a week, brother," continued the king, "whilst we will go whither Iwill shortly tell you." And the king turned on his heel, smiling in hisbrother's face, to sweeten, as it were,
the bitter draught he had givenhim.
During this time Colbert was talking with the Duc d'Almeda.
"Monsieur," said Colbert to Aramis, "this is the moment for us to cometo an understanding. I have made your peace with the king, and I owedthat clearly to a man of so much merit; but as you have often expressedfriendship for me, an opportunity presents itself for giving me a proofof it. You are, besides, more a Frenchman than a Spaniard. Shall wesecure--answer me frankly--the neutrality of Spain, if we undertakeanything against the United Provinces?"
"Monsieur," replied Aramis, "the interest of Spain is clear. To embroilEurope with the Provinces would doubtless be our policy, but the kingof France is an ally of the United Provinces. You are not ignorant,besides, that it would infer a maritime war, and that France is in nostate to undertake this with advantage."
Colbert, turning round at this moment, saw D'Artagnan who was seekingsome interlocutor, during this "aside" of the king and Monsieur. Hecalled him, at the same time saying in a low voice to Aramis, "We maytalk openly with D'Artagnan, I suppose?"
"Oh! certainly," replied the ambassador.
"We were saying, M. d'Almeda and I," said Colbert, "that a conflict withthe United Provinces would mean a maritime war."
"That's evident enough," replied the musketeer.
"And what do you think of it, Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
"I think that to carry on such a war successfully, you must have verylarge land forces."
"What did you say?" said Colbert, thinking he had ill understood him.
"Why such a large land army?" said Aramis.
"Because the king will be beaten by sea if he has not the English withhim, and that when beaten by sea, he will soon be invaded, either by theDutch in his ports, or by the Spaniards by land."
"And Spain neutral?" asked Aramis.
"Neutral as long as the king shall prove stronger," rejoined D'Artagnan.
Colbert admired that sagacity which never touched a question withoutenlightening it thoroughly. Aramis smiled, as he had long known that indiplomacy D'Artagnan acknowledged no superior. Colbert, who, like allproud men, dwelt upon his fantasy with a certainty of success, resumedthe subject, "Who told you, M. d'Artagnan, that the king had no navy?"
"Oh! I take no heed of these details," replied the captain. "I am but anindifferent sailor. Like all nervous people, I hate the sea; and yet Ihave an idea that, with ships, France being a seaport with two hundredexits, we might have sailors."
Colbert drew from his pocket a little oblong book divided into twocolumns. On the first were the names of vessels, on the other thefigures recapitulating the number of cannon and men requisite to equipthese ships. "I have had the same idea as you," said he toD'Artagnan, "and I have had an account drawn up of the vessels we havealtogether--thirty-five ships."
"Thirty-five ships! impossible!" cried D'Artagnan.
"Something like two thousand pieces of cannon," said Colbert. "That iswhat the king possesses at this moment. Of five and thirty vessels wecan make three squadrons, but I must have five."
"Five!" cried Aramis.
"They will be afloat before the end of the year, gentlemen; the kingwill have fifty ship of the line. We may venture on a contest with them,may we not?"
"To build vessels," said D'Artagnan, "is difficult, but possible. Asto arming them, how is that to be done? In France there are neitherfoundries nor military docks."
"Bah!" replied Colbert, in a bantering tone, "I have planned allthat this year and a half past, did you not know it? Do you know M.d'Imfreville?"
"D'Imfreville?" replied D'Artagnan; "no."
"He is a man I have discovered; he has a specialty; he is a man ofgenius--he knows how to set men to work. It is he who has cast cannonand cut the woods of Bourgogne. And then, monsieur l'ambassadeur, youmay not believe what I am going to tell you, but I have a still furtheridea."
"Oh, monsieur!" said Aramis, civilly, "I always believe you."
"Calculating upon the character of the Dutch, our allies, I said tomyself, 'They are merchants, they are friendly with the king; they willbe happy to sell to the king what they fabricate for themselves; thenthe more we buy'--Ah! I must add this: I have Forant--do you knowForant, D'Artagnan?"
Colbert, in his warmth, forgot himself; he called the captain simply_D'Artagnan_, as the king did. But the captain only smiled at it.
"No," replied he, "I do not know him."
"That is another man I have discovered, with a genius for buying. ThisForant has purchased for me 350,000 pounds of iron in balls, 200,000pounds of powder, twelve cargoes of Northern timber, matches, grenades,pitch, tar--I know not what! with a saving of seven per cent upon whatall those articles would cost me fabricated in France."
"That is a capital and quaint idea," replied D'Artagnan, "to have Dutchcannon-balls cast which will return to the Dutch."
"Is it not, with loss, too?" And Colbert laughed aloud. He was delightedwith his own joke.
"Still further," added he, "these same Dutch are building for the king,at this moment, six vessels after the model of the best of their name.Destouches--Ah! perhaps you don't know Destouches?"
"No, monsieur."
"He is a man who has a sure glance to discern, when a ship is launched,what are the defects and qualities of that ship--that is valuable,observe! Nature is truly whimsical. Well, this Destouches appeared tome to be a man likely to prove useful in marine affairs, and he issuperintending the construction of six vessels of seventy-eight guns,which the Provinces are building for his majesty. It results from this,my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, that the king, if he wished to quarrel withthe Provinces, would have a very pretty fleet. Now, you know better thananybody else if the land army is efficient."
D'Artagnan and Aramis looked at each other, wondering at the mysteriouslabors this man had undertaken in so short a time. Colbert understoodthem, and was touched by this best of flatteries.
"If we, in France, were ignorant of what was going on," said D'Artagnan,"out of France still less must be known."
"That is why I told monsieur l'ambassadeur," said Colbert, "that, Spainpromising its neutrality, England helping us--"
"If England assists you," said Aramis, "I promise the neutrality ofSpain."
"I take you at your word," Colbert hastened to reply with his blunt_bonhomie_. "And, _a propos_ of Spain, you have not the 'Golden Fleece,'Monsieur d'Almeda. I heard the king say the other day that he shouldlike to see you wear the _grand cordon_ of St. Michael."
Aramis bowed. "Oh!" thought D'Artagnan, "and Porthos is no longer here!What ells of ribbons would there be for him in these _largesses!_ DearPorthos!"
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," resumed Colbert, "between us two, you will have,I wager, an inclination to lead your musketeers into Holland. Can youswim?" And he laughed like a man in high good humor.
"Like an eel," replied D'Artagnan.
"Ah! but there are some bitter passages of canals and marshes yonder,Monsieur d'Artagnan, and the best swimmers are sometimes drowned there."
"It is my profession to die for his majesty," said the musketeer. "Only,as it is seldom in war that much water is met with without a littlefire, I declare to you beforehand, that I will do my best to choosefire. I am getting old; water freezes me--but fire warms, MonsieurColbert."
And D'Artagnan looked so handsome still in quasi-juvenile strength ashe pronounced these words, that Colbert, in his turn, could not helpadmiring him. D'Artagnan perceived the effect he had produced. Heremembered that the best tradesman is he who fixes a high price upon hisgoods, when they are valuable. He prepared his price in advance.
"So, then," said Colbert, "we go into Holland?"
"Yes," replied D'Artagnan; "only--"
"Only?" said M. Colbert.
"Only," repeated D'Artagnan, "there lurks in everything the question ofinterest, the question of self-love. It is a very fine title, that ofcaptain of the musketeers; but observe this: we have now the king'sguards and the military household of the king. A captain of mu
sketeersought to command all that, and then he would absorb a hundred thousandlivres a year for expenses."
"Well! but do you suppose the king would haggle with you?" said Colbert.
"Eh! monsieur, you have not understood me," replied D'Artagnan, sure ofcarrying his point. "I was telling you that I, an old captain, formerlychief of the king's guard, having precedence of the _marechaux_ ofFrance--I saw myself one day in the trenches with two other equals, thecaptain of the guards and the colonel commanding the Swiss. Now, at noprice will I suffer that. I have old habits, and I will stand or fall bythem."
Colbert felt this blow, but he was prepared for it.
"I have been thinking of what you said just now," replied he.
"About what, monsieur?"
"We were speaking of canals and marshes in which people are drowned."
"Well!"
"Well! if they are drowned, it is for want of a boat, a plank, or astick."
"Of a stick, however short it may be," said D'Artagnan.
"Exactly," said Colbert. "And, therefore, I never heard of an instanceof a _marechal_ of France being drowned."
D'Artagnan became very pale with joy, and in a not very firm voice,"People would be very proud of me in my country," said he, "if I werea _marechal_ of France; but a man must have commanded an expedition inchief to obtain the _baton_."
"Monsieur!" said Colbert, "here is in this pocket-book which you willstudy, a plan of campaign you will have to lead a body of troops tocarry out in the next spring." [12]
D'Artagnan took the book, tremblingly, and his fingers meeting those ofColbert, the minister pressed the hand of the musketeer loyally.
"Monsieur," said he, "we had both a revenge to take, one over the other.I have begun; it is now your turn!"
"I will do you justice, monsieur," replied D'Artagnan, "and implore youto tell the king that the first opportunity that shall offer, he maydepend upon a victory, or to behold me dead--_or both_."
"Then I will have the _fleurs-de-lis_ for your _marechal's baton_prepared immediately," said Colbert.
On the morrow, Aramis, who was setting out for Madrid, to negotiate theneutrality of Spain, came to embrace D'Artagnan at his hotel.
"Let us love each other for four," said D'Artagnan. "We are now buttwo."
"And you will, perhaps, never see me again, dear D'Artagnan," saidAramis; "if you knew how I have loved you! I am old, I am extinct--ah, Iam almost dead."
"My friend," said D'Artagnan, "you will live longer than I shall:diplomacy commands you to live; but, for my part, honor condemns me todie."
"Bah! such men as we are, monsieur le marechal," said Aramis, "only diesatisfied with joy in glory."
"Ah!" replied D'Artagnan, with a melancholy smile, "I assure you,monsieur le duc, I feel very little appetite for either."
They once more embraced, and, two hours after, separated--forever.
The Death of D'Artagnan.
Contrary to that which generally happens, whether in politics or morals,each kept his promises, and did honor to his engagements.
The king recalled M. de Guiche, and banished M. le Chevalier deLorraine; so that Monsieur became ill in consequence. Madame set outfor London, where she applied herself so earnestly to make her brother,Charles II., acquire a taste for the political counsels of Mademoisellede Keroualle, that the alliance between England and France was signed,and the English vessels, ballasted by a few millions of French gold,made a terrible campaign against the fleets of the United Provinces.Charles II. had promised Mademoiselle de Keroualle a little gratitudefor her good counsels; he made her Duchess of Portsmouth. Colbert hadpromised the king vessels, munitions, victories. He kept his word, asis well known. At length Aramis, upon whose promises there was leastdependence to be placed, wrote Colbert the following letter, on thesubject of the negotiations which he had undertaken at Madrid:
"MONSIEUR COLBERT,--I have the honor to expedite to you the R. P. Oliva,general _ad interim_ of the Society of Jesus, my provisional successor.The reverend father will explain to you, Monsieur Colbert, that Ipreserve to myself the direction of all the affairs of the order whichconcern France and Spain; but that I am not willing to retain the titleof general, which would throw too high a side-light on the progress ofthe negotiations with which His Catholic Majesty wishes to intrust me. Ishall resume that title by the command of his majesty, when the labors Ihave undertaken in concert with you, for the great glory of God and HisChurch, shall be brought to a good end. The R. P. Oliva will inform youlikewise, monsieur, of the consent His Catholic Majesty gives to thesignature of a treaty which assures the neutrality of Spain in the eventof a war between France and the United Provinces. This consent will bevalid even if England, instead of being active, should satisfy herselfwith remaining neutral. As for Portugal, of which you and I have spoken,monsieur, I can assure you it will contribute with all its resources toassist the Most Christian King in his war. I beg you, MonsieurColbert, to preserve your friendship and also to believe in my profoundattachment, and to lay my respect at the feet of His Most ChristianMajesty. Signed,
"LE DUC D'ALMEDA." [13]
Aramis had performed more than he had promised; it remained to be seenhow the king, M. Colbert, and D'Artagnan would be faithful to eachother. In the spring, as Colbert had predicted, the land army enteredon its campaign. It preceded, in magnificent order, the court of LouisXIV., who, setting out on horseback, surrounded by carriages filledwith ladies and courtiers, conducted the _elite_ of his kingdom to thissanguinary _fete_. The officers of the army, it is true, had no othermusic save the artillery of the Dutch forts; but it was enough for agreat number, who found in this war honor, advancement, fortune--ordeath.
M. d'Artagnan set out commanding a body of twelve thousand men, cavalry,and infantry, with which he was ordered to take the different placeswhich form knots of that strategic network called La Frise. Never was anarmy conducted more gallantly to an expedition. The officers knew thattheir leader, prudent and skillful as he was brave, would not sacrificea single man, nor yield an inch of ground without necessity. He hadthe old habits of war, to live upon the country, keeping his soldierssinging and the enemy weeping. The captain of the king's musketeerswell knew his business. Never were opportunities better chosen,_coups-de-main_ better supported, errors of the besieged more quicklytaken advantage of.
The army commanded by D'Artagnan took twelve small places within amonth. He was engaged in besieging the thirteenth, which had held outfive days. D'Artagnan caused the trenches to be opened without appearingto suppose that these people would ever allow themselves to be taken.The pioneers and laborers were, in the army of this man, a body full ofideas and zeal, because their commander treated them like soldiers, knewhow to render their work glorious, and never allowed them to be killedif he could help it. It should have been seen with what eagerness themarshy glebes of Holland were turned over. Those turf-heaps, mounds ofpotter's clay, melted at the word of the soldiers like butter in thefrying-pans of Friesland housewives.
M. d'Artagnan dispatched a courier to the king to give him an account ofthe last success, which redoubled the good humor of his majesty and hisinclination to amuse the ladies. These victories of M. d'Artagnan gaveso much majesty to the prince, that Madame de Montespan no longercalled him anything but Louis the Invincible. So that Mademoiselle dela Valliere, who only called the king Louis the Victorious, lost muchof his majesty's favor. Besides, her eyes were frequently red, and to anInvincible nothing is more disagreeable than a mistress who weeps whileeverything is smiling round her. The star of Mademoiselle de la Vallierewas being drowned in clouds and tears. But the gayety of Madame deMontespan redoubled with the successes of the king, and consoled him forevery other unpleasant circumstance. It was to D'Artagnan the king owedthis; and his majesty was anxious to acknowledge these services; hewrote to M. Colbert:
"MONSIEUR COLBERT,--We have a promise to fulfil with M. d'Artagnan,who so well keeps his. This is to inform you that the time is come forperforming it. All provis
ions for this purpose you shall be furnishedwith in due time. LOUIS."
In consequence of this, Colbert, detaining D'Artagnan's envoy, placed inthe hands of that messenger a letter from himself, and a small cofferof ebony inlaid with gold, not very important in appearance, but which,without doubt, was very heavy, as a guard of five men was given to themessenger, to assist him in carrying it. These people arrived beforethe place which D'Artagnan was besieging towards daybreak, and presentedthemselves at the lodgings of the general. They were told that M.d'Artagnan, annoyed by a sortie which the governor, an artful man, hadmade the evening before, and in which the works had been destroyed andseventy-seven men killed, and the reparation of the breaches commenced,had just gone with twenty companies of grenadiers to reconstruct theworks.
M. Colbert's envoy had orders to go and seek M. d'Artagnan, whereverhe might be, or at whatever hour of the day or night. He directed hiscourse, therefore, towards the trenches, followed by his escort, allon horseback. They perceived M. d'Artagnan in the open plain, with hisgold-laced hat, his long cane, and gilt cuffs. He was biting his whitemustache, and wiping off, with his left hand, the dust which the passingballs threw up from the ground they plowed so near him. They also saw,amidst this terrible fire, which filled the air with whistling hisses,officers handling the shovel, soldiers rolling barrows, and vastfascines, rising by being either carried or dragged by from ten totwenty men, cover the front of the trench reopened to the center by thisextraordinary effort of the general. In three hours, all was reinstated.D'Artagnan began to speak more mildly; and he became quite calm when thecaptain of the pioneers approached him, hat in hand, to tell him thatthe trench was again in proper order. This man had scarcely finishedspeaking, when a ball took off one of his legs, and he fell into thearms of D'Artagnan. The latter lifted up his soldier, and quietly, withsoothing words, carried him into the trench, amidst the enthusiasticapplause of the regiments. From that time it was no longer a question ofvalor--the army was delirious; two companies stole away to the advancedposts, which they instantly destroyed.
When their comrades, restrained with great difficulty by D'Artagnan, sawthem lodged upon the bastions, they rushed forward likewise; and soon afurious assault was made upon the counterscarp, upon which depended thesafety of the place. D'Artagnan perceived there was only one means leftof checking his army--to take the place. He directed all his force tothe two breaches, where the besieged were busy in repairing. The shockwas terrible; eighteen companies took part in it, and D'Artagnan wentwith the rest, within half cannon-shot of the place, to support theattack by _echelons_. The cries of the Dutch, who were being poniardedupon their guns by D'Artagnan's grenadiers, were distinctly audible. Thestruggle grew fiercer with the despair of the governor, who disputed hisposition foot by foot. D'Artagnan, to put an end to the affair, andto silence the fire, which was unceasing, sent a fresh column, whichpenetrated like a very wedge; and he soon perceived upon the ramparts,through the fire, the terrified flight of the besieged, pursued by thebesiegers.
At this moment the general, breathing feely and full of joy, heard avoice behind him, saying, "Monsieur, if you please, from M. Colbert."
He broke the seal of the letter, which contained these words:
"MONSIEUR D'ARTAGNAN:--The king commands me to inform you that he hasnominated you marechal of France, as a reward for your magnificentservices, and the honor you do to his arms. The king is highlypleased, monsieur, with the captures you have made; he commands you, inparticular, to finish the siege you have commenced, with good fortune toyou, and success for him."
D'Artagnan was standing with a radiant countenance and sparkling eye.He looked up to watch the progress of his troops upon the walls, stillenveloped in red and black volumes of smoke. "I have finished," repliedhe to the messenger; "the city will have surrendered in a quarter of anhour." He then resumed his reading:
"The _coffret_, Monsieur d'Artagnan, is my own present. You will not besorry to see that, whilst you warriors are drawing the sword to defendthe king, I am moving the pacific arts to ornament a present worthy ofyou. I commend myself to your friendship, monsieur le marechal, and begyou to believe in mine. COLBERT"
D'Artagnan, intoxicated with joy, made a sign to the messenger, whoapproached, with his _coffret_ in his hands. But at the moment the_marechal_ was going to look at it, a loud explosion resounded from theramparts, and called his attention towards the city. "It is strange,"said D'Artagnan, "that I don't yet see the king's flag on the walls, orhear the drums beat the _chamade_." He launched three hundred fresh men,under a high-spirited officer, and ordered another breach to be made.Then, more tranquilly, he turned towards the _coffret_, which Colbert'senvoy held out to him.--It was his treasure--he had won it.
D'Artagnan was holding out his hand to open the _coffret_, when a ballfrom the city crushed the _coffret_ in the arms of the officer, struckD'Artagnan full in the chest, and knocked him down upon a sloping heapof earth, whilst the _fleur-de-lised baton_, escaping from the brokenbox, came rolling under the powerless hand of the _marechal_. D'Artagnanendeavored to raise himself. It was thought he had been knocked downwithout being wounded. A terrible cry broke from the group of terrifiedofficers; the _marechal_ was covered with blood; the pallor of deathascended slowly to his noble countenance. Leaning upon the arms heldout on all sides to receive him, he was able once more to turn his eyestowards the place, and to distinguish the white flag at the crest of theprincipal bastion; his ears, already deaf to the sounds of life, caughtfeebly the rolling of the drum which announced the victory. Then,clasping in his nerveless hand the _baton_, ornamented with its_fleurs-de-lis_, he cast on it his eyes, which had no longer the powerof looking upwards towards Heaven, and fell back, murmuring strangewords, which appeared to the soldiers cabalistic--words which hadformerly represented so many things on earth, and which none but thedying man any longer comprehended:
"Athos--Porthos, farewell till we meet again! Aramis, adieu forever!"
Of the four valiant men whose history we have related, there nowremained but one. Heaven had taken to itself three noble souls. [14]
End of The Man in the Iron Mask. This is the last text in the series.
Footnotes
[Footnote 1: "He is patient because he is eternal." is how the Latin translates.It is from St. Augustine. This motto was sometimes applied to thePapacy, but not to the Jesuits.]
[Footnote 2: In the five-volume edition, Volume 4 ends here.]
[Footnote 3: It is possible that the preceding conversation is an obscureallegorical allusion to the Fronde, or perhaps an intimation that theDuc was the father of Mordaunt, from Twenty Years After, but a definiteinterpretation still eludes modern scholars.]
[Footnote 4: The dictates of such a service would require Raoul to spend therest of his life outside of France, hence Athos's and Grimaud's extremereactions.]
[Footnote 5: Dumas here, and later in the chapter, uses the name Roncherat.Roncherolles is the actual name of the man.]
[Footnote 6: In some editions, "in spite of Milady" reads "in spite of malady".]
[Footnote 7: "Pie" in this case refers to magpies, the prey for the falcons.]
[Footnote 8: Anne of Austria did not die until 1666, and Dumas sets the currentyear as 1665.]
[Footnote 9: Madame de Montespan would oust Louise from the king's affections by1667.]
[Footnote 10: De Guiche would not return to court until 1671.]
[Footnote 11: Madame did die of poison in 1670, shortly after returning from themission described later. The Chevalier de Lorraine had actually beenordered out of France in 1662.]
[Footnote 12: This particular campaign did not actually occur until 1673.]
[Footnote 13: Jean-Paul Oliva was the actual general of the Jesuits from1664-1681.]
[Footnote 14: In earlier editions, the last line reads, "Of the four valiant menwhose history we have related, there now no longer remained but onesingle body; God had resumed the souls." Dumas made the revision inlater editions.]
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