year -- you -- are -- not -- happy?"
"My dear friend, all those things I have, but I am a hermit
in the midst of superfluity."
"Surrounded, I suppose, only by clodhoppers, with whom you
could not associate."
Porthos turned rather pale and drank off a large glass of
wine.
"No; but just think, there are paltry country squires who
have all some title or another and pretend to go back as far
as Charlemagne, or at least to Hugh Capet. When I first came
here; being the last comer, it was for me to make the first
advances. I made them, but you know, my dear friend, Madame
du Vallon ---- "
Porthos, in pronouncing these words, seemed to gulp down
something.
"Madame du Vallon was of doubtful gentility. She had, in her
first marriage -- I don't think, D'Artagnan, I am telling
you anything new -- married a lawyer; they thought that
`nauseous;' you can understand that's a word bad enough to
make one kill thirty thousand men. I have killed two, which
has made people hold their tongues, but has not made me
their friend. So that I have no society; I live alone; I am
sick of it -- my mind preys on itself."
D'Artagnan smiled. He now saw where the breastplate was
weak, and prepared the blow.
"But now," he said, "that you are a widower, your wife's
connection cannot injure you."
"Yes, but understand me; not being of a race of historic
fame, like the De Courcys, who were content to be plain
sirs, or the Rohans, who didn't wish to be dukes, all these
people, who are all either vicomtes or comtes go before me
at church in all the ceremonies, and I can say nothing to
them. Ah! If I only were a ---- "
"A baron, don't you mean?" cried D'Artagnan, finishing his
friend's sentence.
"Ah!" cried Porthos; "would I were but a baron!"
"Well, my friend, I am come to give you this very title
which you wish for so much."
Porthos gave a start that shook the room; two or three
bottles fell and were broken. Musqueton ran thither, hearing
the noise.
Porthos waved his hand to Musqueton to pick up the bottles.
"I am glad to see," said D'Artagnan, "that you have still
that honest lad with you."
"He is my steward," replied Porthos; "he will never leave
me. Go away now, Mouston."
"So he's called Mouston," thought D'Artagnan; "'tis too long
a word to pronounce `Musqueton.'"
"Well," he said aloud, "let us resume our conversation
later, your people may suspect something; there may be spies
about. You can suppose, Porthos, that what I have to say
relates to most important matters."
"Devil take them; let us walk in the park," answered
Porthos, "for the sake of digestion."
"Egad," said D'Artagnan, "the park is like everything else
and there are as many fish in your pond as rabbits in your
warren; you are a happy man, my friend since you have not
only retained your love of the chase, but acquired that of
fishing."
"My friend," replied Porthos, "I leave fishing to Musqueton,
-- it is a vulgar pleasure, -- but I shoot sometimes; that
is to say, when I am dull, and I sit on one of those marble
seats, have my gun brought to me, my favorite dog, and I
shoot rabbits."
"Really, how very amusing!"
"Yes," replied Porthos, with a sigh; it is amusing."
D'Artagnan now no longer counted the sighs. They were
innumerable.
"However, what had you to say to me?" he resumed; "let us
return to that subject."
"With pleasure," replied D'Artagnan; "I must, however, first
frankly tell you that you must change your mode of life."
"How?"
"Go into harness again, gird on your sword, run after
adventures, and leave as in old times a little of your fat
on the roadside."
"Ah! hang it!" said Porthos.
"I see you are spoiled, dear friend; you are corpulent, your
arm has no longer that movement of which the late cardinal's
guards have so many proofs."
"Ah! my fist is strong enough I swear," cried Porthos,
extending a hand like a shoulder of mutton.
"So much the better."
"Are we then to go to war?"
"By my troth, yes."
"Against whom?"
"Are you a politician, friend?"
"Not in the least."
"Are you for Mazarin or for the princes?"
"I am for no one."
"That is to say, you are for us. Well, I tell you that I
come to you from the cardinal."
This speech was heard by Porthos in the same sense as if it
had still been in the year 1640 and related to the true
cardinal.
"Ho! ho! What are the wishes of his eminence?"
"He wishes to have you in his service."
"And who spoke to him of me?"
"Rochefort -- you remember him?"
"Yes, pardieu! It was he who gave us so much trouble and
kept us on the road so much; you gave him three sword-wounds
in three separate engagements."
"But you know he is now our friend?"
"No, I didn't know that. So he cherishes no resentment?"
"You are mistaken, Porthos," said D'Artagnan. "It is I who
cherish no resentment."
Porthos didn't understand any too clearly; but then we know
that understanding was not his strong point. "You say,
then," he continued, "that the Count de Rochefort spoke of
me to the cardinal?"
"Yes, and the queen, too."
"The queen, do you say?"
"To inspire us with confidence she has even placed in
Mazarin's hands that famous diamond -- you remember all
about it -- that I once sold to Monsieur des Essarts and of
which, I don't know how, she has regained possession."
"But it seems to me," said Porthos, "that she would have
done much better if she had given it back to you."
"So I think," replied D'Artagnan; "but kings and queens are
strange beings and have odd fancies; nevertheless, since
they are the ones who have riches and honors, we are devoted
to them."
"Yes, we are devoted to them," repeated Porthos; "and you --
to whom are you devoted now?"
"To the king, the queen, and to the cardinal; moreover, I
have answered for your devotion also."
"And you say that you have made certain conditions on my
behalf?"
"Magnificent, my dear fellow, magnificent! In the first
place you have plenty of money, haven't you? forty thousand
francs income, I think you said."
Porthos began to be suspicious. "Eh! my friend," said he,
"one never has too much money. Madame du Vallon left things
in much disorder; I am not much of a hand at figures, so
that I live almost from hand to mouth."
"He is afraid I have come to borrow money," thought
D'Artagnan. "Ah, my friend," said he, "it is all the better
if you are in difficulties."
"How is it all the better?"
"Yes, for his eminence will give you all that you want --
land, money, and titles."
"Ah! ah! ah!" said Porthos, opening his eyes at that last
word.
"Under the other cardinal," continued D'Artagnan, "we didn't
know enough to make our profits; this, however, doesn't
concern you, with your forty thousand francs income, the
happiest man in the world, it seems to me."
Porthos sighed.
"At the same time," continued D'Artagnan, "notwithstanding
your forty thousand francs a year, and perhaps even for the
very reason that you have forty thousand francs a year, it
seems to me that a little coronet would do well on your
carriage, hey?"
"Yes indeed," said Porthos.
"Well, my dear friend, win it -- it is at the point of your
sword. We shall not interfere with each other -- your object
is a title; mine, money. If I can get enough to rebuild
Artagnan, which my ancestors, impoverished by the Crusades,
allowed to fall into ruins, and to buy thirty acres of land
about it, that is all I wish. I shall retire and die
tranquilly -- at home."
"For my part," said Porthos, "I desire to be made a baron."
"You shall be one."
"And have you not seen any of our other friends?"
"Yes, I have seen Aramis."
"And what does he wish? To be a bishop?"
"Aramis," answered D'Artagnan, who did not wish to undeceive
Porthos, "Aramis, fancy, has become a monk and a Jesuit, and
lives like a bear. My offers did not arouse him, -- did not
even tempt him."
"So much the worse! He was a clever man. And Athos?"
"I have not yet seen him. Do you know where I shall find
him?"
"Near Blois. He is called Bragelonne. Only imagine, my dear
friend. Athos, who was of as high birth as the emperor and
who inherits one estate which gives him the title of comte,
what is he to do with all those dignities -- the Comte de la
Fere, Comte de Bragelonne?"
"And he has no children with all these titles?"
"Ah!" said Porthos, "I have heard that he had adopted a
young man who resembles him greatly."
"What, Athos? Our Athos, who was as virtuous as Scipio? Have
you seen him?
"No."
"Well, I shall see him to-morrow and tell him about you; but
I'm afraid, entre nous, that his liking for wine has aged
and degraded him."
"Yes, he used to drink a great deal," replied Porthos.
"And then he was older than any of us," added D'Artagnan.
"Some years only. His gravity made him look older than he
was."
"Well then, if we can get Athos, all will be well. If we
cannot, we will do without him. We two are worth a dozen."
"Yes," said Porthos, smiling at the remembrance of his
former exploits; "but we four, altogether, would be equal to
thirty-six, more especially as you say the work will not be
child's play. Will it last long?"
"By'r Lady! two or three years perhaps."
"So much the better," cried Porthos. "You have no idea, my
friend, how my bones ache since I came here. Sometimes on a
Sunday, I take a ride in the fields and on the property of
my neighbours, in order to pick up a nice little quarrel,
which I am really in want of, but nothing happens. Either
they respect or they fear me, which is more likely, but they
let me trample down the clover with my dogs, insult and
obstruct every one, and I come back still more weary and
low-spirited, that's all. At any rate, tell me: there's more
chance of fighting in Paris, is there not?"
"In that respect, my dear friend, it's delightful. No more
edicts, no more of the cardinal's guards, no more De
Jussacs, nor other bloodhounds. I'Gad! underneath a lamp in
an inn, anywhere, they ask `Are you one of the Fronde?' They
unsheathe, and that's all that is said. The Duke de Guise
killed Monsieur de Coligny in the Place Royale and nothing
was said of it."
"Ah, things go on gaily, then," said Porthos.
"Besides which, in a short time," resumed D'Artagnan, "We
shall have set battles, cannonades, conflagrations and there
will be great variety."
"Well, then, I decide."
"I have your word, then?"
"Yes, 'tis given. I shall fight heart and soul for Mazarin;
but ---- "
"But?"
"But he must make me a baron."
"Zounds!" said D'Artagnan, "that's settled already; I will
be responsible for the barony."
On this promise being given, Porthos, who had never doubted
his friend's assurance, turned back with him toward the
castle.
12
In which it is shown that if Porthos was discontented with
his Condition, Musqueton was completely satisfied with his.
As they returned toward the castle, D'Artagnan thought of
the miseries of poor human nature, always dissatisfied with
what it has, ever desirous of what it has not.
In the position of Porthos, D'Artagnan would have been
perfectly happy; and to make Porthos contented there was
wanting -- what? five letters to put before his three names,
a tiny coronet to paint upon the panels of his carriage!
"I shall pass all my life," thought D'Artagnan, "in seeking
for a man who is really contented with his lot."
Whilst making this reflection, chance seemed, as it were, to
give him the lie direct. When Porthos had left him to give
some orders he saw Musqueton approaching. The face of the
steward, despite one slight shade of care, light as a summer
cloud, seemed a physiognomy of absolute felicity.
"Here is what I am looking for," thought D'Artagnan; "but
alas! the poor fellow does not know the purpose for which I
am here."
He then made a sign for Musqueton to come to him.
"Sir," said the servant, "I have a favour to ask you."
"Speak out, my friend."
"I am afraid to do so. Perhaps you will think, sir, that
prosperity has spoiled me?"
"Art thou happy, friend?" asked D'Artagnan.
"As happy as possible; and yet, sir, you may make me even
happier than I am."
"Well, speak, if it depends on me."
"Oh, sir! it depends on you only."
"I listen -- I am waiting to hear."
"Sir, the favor I have to ask of you is, not to call me
`Musqueton' but `Mouston.' Since I have had the honor of
being my lord's steward I have taken the last name as more
dignified and calculated to make my inferiors respect me.
