the window which Mazarin, less heroic than the king, had
taken the precaution to lower.
Porthos looked very melancholy.
"What a devil of a face you have, Porthos! and what a
strange air for a victor!"
"But you," answered Porthos, "seem to me agitated."
"There's a reason! Zounds! I have just killed an old
friend."
"Indeed!" replied Porthos, "who?"
"That poor Count de Rochefort."
"Well! exactly like me! I have just killed a man whose face
is not unknown to me. Unluckily, I hit him on the head and
immediately his face was covered with blood."
"And he said nothing as he died?"
"Yes; he exclaimed, `Oh!'"
"I suppose," answered D'Artagnan, laughing, "if he only said
that, it did not enlighten you much."
"Well, sir!" cried the queen.
"Madame, the passage is quite clear and your majesty can
continue your road."
In fact, the procession arrived, in safety at Notre Dame, at
the front gate of which all the clergy, with the coadjutor
at their head, awaited the king, the queen and the minister,
for whose happy return they chanted a Te Deum.
As the service was drawing to a close a boy entered the
church in great excitement, ran to the sacristy, dressed
himself quickly in the choir robes, and cleaving, thanks to
that uniform, the crowd that filled the temple, approached
Bazin, who, clad in his blue robe, was standing gravely in
his place at the entrance to the choir.
Bazin felt some one pulling his sleeve. He lowered to earth
his eyes, beatifically raised to Heaven, and recognized
Friquet.
"Well, you rascal, what is it? How do you dare to disturb me
in the exercise of my functions?" asked the beadle.
"Monsieur Bazin," said Friquet, "Monsieur Maillard -- you
know who he is, he gives holy water at Saint Eustache ---- "
"Well, go on."
"Well, he received in the scrimmage a sword stroke on the
head. That great giant who was there gave it to him."
"In that case," said Bazin, "he must be pretty sick."
"So sick that he is dying, and he wants to confess to the
coadjutor, who, they say, has power to remit great sins."
"And does he imagine that the coadjutor will put himself out
for him?"
"To be sure; the coadjutor has promised."
"Who told you that?"
"Monsieur Maillard himself."
"You have seen him, then?"
"Certainly; I was there when he fell."
"What were you doing there?"
"I was shouting, `Down with Mazarin!' `Death to the
cardinal!' `The Italian to the gallows!' Isn't that what you
would have me shout?"
"Be quiet, you rascal!" said Bazin, looking uneasily around.
"So that he told me, that poor Monsieur Maillard, `Go find
the coadjutor, Friquet, and if you bring him to me you shall
be my heir.' Say, then, Father Bazin -- the heir of Monsieur
Maillard, the giver of holy water at Saint Eustache! Hey! I
shall have nothing to do but to fold my arms! All the same,
I should like to do him that service -- what do you say to
it?"
"I will tell the coadjutor," said Bazin.
In fact, he slowly and respectfully approached the prelate
and spoke to him privately a few words, to which the latter
responded by an affirmative sign. He then returned with the
same slow step and said:
"Go and tell the dying man that he must be patient.
Monseigneur will be with him in an hour."
"Good!" said Friquet, "my fortune is made."
"By the way," said Bazin, "where was he carried?"
"To the tower Saint Jacques la Boucherie;" and delighted
with the success of his embassy, Friquet started off at the
top of his speed.
When the Te Deum was over, the coadjutor, without stopping
to change his priestly dress, took his way toward that old
tower which he knew so well. He arrived in time. Though
sinking from moment to moment, the wounded man was not yet
dead. The door was opened to the coadjutor of the room in
which the mendicant was suffering.
A moment later Friquet went out, carrying in his hand a
large leather bag; he opened it as soon as he was outside
the chamber and to his great astonishment found it full of
gold. The mendicant had kept his word and made Friquet his
heir.
"Ah! Mother Nanette!" cried Friquet, suffocating; "ah!
Mother Nanette!"
He could say no more; but though he hadn't strength to speak
he had enough for action. He rushed headlong to the street,
and like the Greek from Marathon who fell in the square at
Athens, with his laurel in his hand, Friquet reached
Councillor Broussel's threshold, and then fell exhausted,
scattering on the floor the louis disgorged by his leather
bag.
Mother Nanette began by picking up the louis; then she
picked up Friquet.
In the meantime the cortege returned to the Palais Royal.
"That Monsieur d'Artagnan is a very brave man, mother," said
the young king.
"Yes, my son; and he rendered very important services to
your father. Treat him kindly, therefore, in the future."
"Captain," said the young king to D'Artagnan, on descending
from the carriage, "the queen has charged me to invite you
to dinner to-day -- you and your friend the Baron du
Vallon."
That was a great honor for D'Artagnan and for Porthos.
Porthos was delighted; and yet during the entire repast he
seemed to be preoccupied.
"What was the matter with you, baron?" D'Artagnan said to
him as they descended the staircase of the Palais Royal.
"You seemed at dinner to be anxious about something."
"I was trying," said Porthos, "to recall where I had seen
that mendicant whom I must have killed."
"And you couldn't remember?"
"No."
"Well, search, my friend, search; and when you have found,
you will tell me, will you not?"
"Pardieu!" said Porthos.
90
Conclusion.
On going home, the two friends found a letter from Athos,
who desired them to meet him at the Grand Charlemagne on the
following day.
The friends went to bed early, but neither of them slept.
When we arrive at the summit of our wishes, success has
usually the power to drive away sleep on the first night
after the fulfilment of long cherished hopes.
The next day at the appointed hour they went to see Athos
and found him and Aramis in traveling costume.
"What!" cried Porthos, "are we all going away, then? I, so,
have made my preparations this morning."
"Oh, heavens! yes," said Aramis. "There's nothing to do in
Paris now there's no Fronde. The Duchess de Longueville has
invited me to pass a few days in Normandy, and has deputed
me, while her son is being baptized, to go and prepare her
residence at Rouen; after which, if nothing new occurs, I
shall go and bury myself in my convent at Noisy-le-Sec."
"And I," said Athos, "am returning to Bragelonne. You know,
dear D'Artagnan, I am nothing more than a good honest
country gentleman. Raoul has no fortune other than I
possess, poor child! and I must take care of it for him,
since I only lend him my name."
"And Raoul -- what shall you do with him?"
"I leave him with you, my friend. War has broken out in
Flanders. You shall take him with you there. I am afraid
that remaining at Blois would be dangerous to his youthful
mind. Take him and teach him to be as brave and loyal as you
are yourself."
"Then," replied D'Artagnan, "though I shall not have you,
Athos, at all events I shall have that dear fair-haired head
by me; and though he's but a boy, yet, since your soul lives
again in him, dear Athos, I shall always fancy that you are
near me, sustaining and encouraging me."
The four friends embraced with tears in their eyes.
Then they departed, without knowing whether they would ever
see each other again.
D'Artagnan returned to the Rue Tiquetonne with Porthos,
still possessed by the wish to find out who the man was that
he had killed. On arriving at the Hotel de la Chevrette they
found the baron's equipage all really and Musqueton on his
saddle.
"Come, D'Artagnan," said Porthos, "bid adieu to your sword
and go with me to Pierrefonds, to Bracieux, or to Du Vallon.
We will grow old together and talk of our companions."
"No!" replied D'Artagnan, "deuce take it, the campaign is
going to begin; I wish to be there, I expect to get
something by it."
"What do you expect to get?"
"Why, I expect to be made Marechal of France!"
"Ha! ha!" cried Porthos, who was not completely taken in by
D'Artagnan's Gasconades.
"Come my brother, go with me," added D'Artagnan, "and I will
see that you are made a duke!"
"No," answered Porthos, "Mouston has no desire to fight;
besides, they have erected a triumphal arch for me to enter
my barony, which will kill my neighbors with envy."
"To that I can say nothing," returned D'Artagnan, who knew
the vanity of the new baron. "Then, here's to our next merry
meeting!"
"Adieu, dear captain," said Porthos, "I shall always be
happy to welcome you to my barony."
"Yes, yes, when the campaign is over," replied the Gascon.
"His honor's equipage is waiting," said Musqueton.
The two friends, after a cordial pressure of the hands,
separated. D'Artagnan was standing at the door looking after
Porthos with a mournful gaze, when the baron, after walking
scarcely more than twenty paces, returned -- stood still --
struck his forehead with his finger and exclaimed:
"I recollect!"
"What?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"Who the beggar was that I killed."
"Ah! indeed! and who was he?"
"'Twas that low fellow, Bonancieux."
And Porthos, enchanted at having relieved his mind, rejoined
Musqueton and they disappeared around an angle of the
street. D'Artagnan stood for an instant, mute, pensive and
motionless; then, as he went in, he saw the fair Madeleine,
his hostess, standing on the threshold.
"Madeleine," said the Gascon, "give me your apartment on the
first floor; now that I am a captain in the royal musketeers
I must make an appearance; nevertheless, reserve my old room
on the fifth story for me; one never knows what may happen."
End
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