"And Lord de Winter -- do you know anything about him?"
"I know that he is in high favor with Charles I."
"The fortunes of that monarch now are at low water. He shed
the blood of Strafford; that confirms what I said just now
-- blood will have blood. And the queen?"
"What queen?"
"Madame Henrietta of England, daughter of Henry IV."
"She is at the Louvre, as you know."
"Yes, and I hear in bitter poverty. Her daughter, during the
severest cold, was obliged for want of fire to remain in
bed. Do you grasp that?" said Athos, shrugging his
shoulders; "the daughter of Henry IV. shivering for want of
a fagot! Why did she not ask from any one of us a home
instead of from Mazarin? She should have wanted nothing."
"Have you ever seen the queen of England?" inquired
D'Artagnan.
"No; but my mother, as a child, saw her. Did I ever tell you
that my mother was lady of honor to Marie de Medici "
"Never. You know, Athos, you never spoke much of such
matters."
"Ah, mon Dieu, yes, you are right," Athos replied; "but then
there must be some occasion for speaking."
"Porthos wouldn't have waited for it so patiently," said
D'Artagnan, with a smile.
"Every one according to his nature, my dear D'Artagnan.
Porthos, in spite of a touch of vanity, has many excellent
qualities. Have you seen him?"
"I left him five days ago," said D'Artagnan, and he
portrayed with Gascon wit and sprightliness the magnificence
of Porthos in his Chateau of Pierrefonds; nor did he neglect
to launch a few arrows of wit at the excellent Monsieur
Mouston.
"I sometimes wonder," replied Athos, smiling at that gayety
which recalled the good old days, "that we could form an
association of men who would be, after twenty years of
separation, still so closely bound together. Friendship
throws out deep roots in honest hearts, D'Artagnan. Believe
me, it is only the evil-minded who deny friendship; they
cannot understand it. And Aramis?"
"I have seen him also," said D'Artagnan; "but he seemed to
me cold."
"Ah, you have seen Aramis?" said Athos, turning on
D'Artagnan a searching look. "Why, it is a veritable
pilgrimage, my dear friend, that you are making to the
Temple of Friendship, as the poets would say."
"Why, yes," replied D'Artagnan, with embarrassment.
"Aramis, you know," continued Athos, "is naturally cold, and
then he is always involved in intrigues with women."
"I believe he is at this moment in a very complicated one,"
said D'Artagnan.
Athos made no reply.
"He is not curious," thought D'Artagnan.
Athos not only failed to reply, he even changed the subject
of conversation.
"You see," said he, calling D'Artagnan's attention to the
fact that they had come back to the chateau after an hour's
walk, "we have made a tour of my domains."
"All is charming and everything savors of nobility," replied
D'Artagnan.
At this instant they heard the sound of horses' feet.
"'Tis Raoul who has come back," said Athos; "and we can now
hear how the poor child is."
In fact, the young man appeared at the gate, covered with
dust, entered the courtyard, leaped from his horse, which he
consigned to the charge of a groom, and then went to greet
the count and D'Artagnan.
"Monsieur," said Athos, placing his hand on D'Artagnan's
shoulder, "monsieur is the Chevalier D'Artagnan of whom you
have often heard me speak, Raoul."
"Monsieur," said the young man, saluting again and more
profoundly, "monsieur le comte has pronounced your name
before me as an example whenever he wished to speak of an
intrepid and generous gentleman."
That little compliment could not fail to move D'Artagnan. He
extended a hand to Raoul and said:
"My young friend, all the praises that are given me should
be passed on to the count here; for he has educated me in
everything and it is not his fault that his pupil profited
so little from his instructions. But he will make it up in
you I am sure. I like your manner, Raoul, and your
politeness has touched me."
Athos was more delighted than can be told. He looked at
D'Artagnan with an expression of gratitude and then bestowed
on Raoul one of those strange smiles, of which children are
so proud when they receive them.
"Now," said D'Artagnan to himself, noticing that silent play
of countenance, "I am sure of it."
"I hope the accident has been of no consequence?"
"They don't yet know, sir, on account of the swelling; but
the doctor is afraid some tendon has been injured."
At this moment a little boy, half peasant, half foot-boy,
came to announce supper.
Athos led his guest into a dining-room of moderate size, the
windows of which opened on one side on a garden, on the
other on a hot-house full of magnificent flowers.
D'Artagnan glanced at the dinner service. The plate was
magnificent, old, and appertaining to the family. D'Artagnan
stopped to look at a sideboard on which was a superb ewer of
silver.
"That workmanship is divine!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, a chef d'oeuvre of the great Florentine sculptor,
Benvenuto Cellini," replied Athos.
"What battle does it represent?"
"That of Marignan, just at the point where one of my
forefathers is offering his sword to Francis I., who has
broken his. It was on that occasion that my ancestor,
Enguerrand de la Fere, was made a knight of the Order of St.
Michael; besides which, the king, fifteen years afterward,
gave him also this ewer and a sword which you may have seen
formerly in my house, also a lovely specimen of workmanship.
Men were giants in those times," said Athos; "now we are
pigmies in comparison. Let us sit down to supper. Call
Charles," he added, addressing the boy who waited.
"My good Charles, I particularly recommend to your care
Planchet, the laquais of Monsieur D'Artagnan. He likes good
wine; now you have the key of the cellar. He has slept a
long time on a hard bed, so he won't object to a soft one;
take every care of him, I beg of you." Charles bowed and
retired.
"You think of everything," said D'Artagnan; "and I thank you
for Planchet, my dear Athos."
Raoul stared on hearing this name and looked at the count to
be quite sure that it was he whom the lieutenant thus
addressed.
"That name sounds strange to you," said Athos, smiling; "it
was my nom de guerre when Monsieur D'Artagnan, two other
gallant friends and myself performed some feats of arms at
the siege of La Rochelle, under the deceased cardinal and
Monsieur de Bassompierre. My friend is still so kind as to
address me by that old and well beloved appellation, which
makes my heart glad when I hear it."
"'Tis an illustrious name," said the lieutenant, "and had
one day triumphal honors paid to it."
"What do you mean, sir?" inquired Raoul.
"You have not forgotten St. Gervais, Athos, and the napkin
which was converted into a banner?" and he then related to
Raoul the story of the bastion, and Raoul fancied he was
listening to one of those deeds of arms belonging to days of
chivalry, so gloriously recounted by Tasso and Ariosto.
"D'Artagnan does not tell you, Raoul," said Athos, in his
turn, "that he was reckoned one of the finest swordsmen of
his time -- a knuckle of iron, a wrist of steel, a sure eye
and a glance of fire; that's what his adversary met with. He
was eighteen, only three years older than you are, Raoul,
when I saw him set to work, pitted against tried men."
"And did Monsieur D'Artagnan come off the conqueror?" asked
the young man, with glistening eye.
"I killed one man, if I recollect rightly," replied
D'Artagnan, with a look of inquiry directed to Athos;
"another I disarmed or wounded, I don't remember which."
"Wounded!" said Athos; "it was a phenomenon of skill."
The young man would willingly have prolonged this
conversation far into the night, but Athos pointed out to
him that his guest must need repose. D'Artagnan would fain
have declared that he was not fatigued, but Athos insisted
on his retiring to his chamber, conducted thither by Raoul.
15
Athos as a Diplomatist.
D'Artagnan retired to bed -- not to sleep, but to think over
all he had heard that evening. Being naturally goodhearted,
and having had once a liking for Athos, which had grown into
a sincere friendship, he was delighted at thus meeting a man
full of intelligence and moral strength, instead of a
drunkard. He admitted without annoyance the continued
superiority of Athos over himself, devoid as he was of that
jealousy which might have saddened a less generous
disposition; he was delighted also that the high qualities
of Athos appeared to promise favorably for his mission.
Nevertheless, it seemed to him that Athos was not in all
respects sincere and frank. Who was the youth he had adopted
and who bore so striking a resemblance to him? What could
explain Athos's having re-entered the world and the extreme
sobriety he had observed at table? The absence of Grimaud,
whose name had never once been uttered by Athos, gave
D'Artagnan uneasiness. It was evident either that he no
longer possessed the confidence of his friend, or that Athos
was bound by some invisible chain, or that he had been
forewarned of the lieutenant's visit.
He could not help thinking of M. Rochefort, whom he had seen
in Notre Dame; could De Rochefort have forestalled him with
Athos? Again, the moderate fortune which Athos possessed,
concealed as it was, so skillfully, seemed to show a regard
for appearances and to betray a latent ambition which might
be easily aroused. The clear and vigorous intellect of Athos
would render him more open to conviction than a less able
man would be. He would enter into the minister's schemes
with the more ardor, because his natural activity would be
doubled by necessity.
Resolved to seek an explanation on all these points on the
following day, D'Artagnan, in spite of his fatigue, prepared
for an attack and determined that it should take place after
breakfast. He determined to cultivate the good-will of the
youth Raoul and, either whilst fencing with him or when out
shooting, to extract from his simplicity some information
which would connect the Athos of old times with the Athos of
the present. But D'Artagnan at the same time, being a man of
extreme caution, was quite aware what injury he should do
himself, if by any indiscretion or awkwardness he should
betray has manoeuvering to the experienced eye of Athos.
Besides, to tell truth, whilst D'Artagnan was quite disposed
to adopt a subtle course against the cunning of Aramis or
the vanity of Porthos, he was ashamed to equivocate with
Athos, true-hearted, open Athos. It seemed to him that if
Porthos and Aramis deemed him superior to them in the arts
of diplomacy, they would like him all the better for it; but
that Athos, on the contrary, would despise him.
"Ah! why is not Grimaud, the taciturn Grimaud, here?"
thought D'Artagnan, "there are so many things his silence
would have told me; with Grimaud silence was another form of
eloquence!"
There reigned a perfect stillness in the house. D'Artagnan
had heard the door shut and the shutters barred; the dogs
became in their turn silent. At last a nightingale, lost in
a thicket of shrubs, in the midst of its most melodious
cadences had fluted low and lower into stillness and fallen
asleep. Not a sound was heard in the castle, except of a
footstep up and down, in the chamber above -- as he
supposed, the bedroom of Athos.
"He is walking about and thinking," thought D'Artagnan; "but
of what? It is impossible to know; everything else might be
guessed, but not that."
At length Athos went to bed, apparently, for the noise
ceased.
Silence and fatigue together overcame D'Artagnan and sleep
overtook him also. He was not, however, a good sleeper.
Scarcely had dawn gilded his window curtains when he sprang
out of bed and opened the windows. Somebody, he perceived,
was in the courtyard, moving stealthily. True to his custom
of never passing anything over that it was within his power
to know, D'Artagnan looked out of the window and perceived
the close red coat and brown hair of Raoul.
The young man was opening the door of the stable. He then,
with noiseless haste, took out the horse that he had ridden
on the previous evening, saddled and bridled it himself and
led the animal into the alley to the right of the
kitchen-garden, opened a side door which conducted him to a
bridle road, shut it after him, and D'Artagnan saw him pass
by like a dart, bending, as he went, beneath the pendent
flowery branches of maple and acacia. The road, as
D'Artagnan had observed, was the way to Blois.
"So!" thought the Gascon "here's a young blade who has
already his love affair, who doesn't at all agree with Athos
in his hatred to the fair sex. He's not going to hunt, for
he has neither dogs nor arms; he's not going on a message,
for he goes secretly. Why does he go in secret? Is he afraid
of me or of his father? for I am sure the count is his
father. By Jove! I shall know about that soon, for I shall
soon speak out to Athos."
Day was now advanced; all the noises that had ceased the
night before reawakened, one after the other. The bird on
