Grimaud was walking before him with a lantern. By degrees
the passage narrowed, yet the duke continued his course. At
last it became so narrow that the fugitive tried in vain to
proceed. The sides of the walls seem to close in, even to
press against him. He made fruitless efforts to go on; it
was impossible. Nevertheless, he still saw Grimaud with his
lantern in front, advancing. He wished to call out to him
but could not utter a word. Then at the other extremity he
heard the footsteps of those who were pursuing him. These
steps came on, came fast. He was discovered; all hope of
flight was gone. Still the walls seemed to be closing on
him; they appeared to be in concert with his enemies. At
last he heard the voice of La Ramee. La Ramee took his hand
and laughed aloud. He was captured again, and conducted to
the low and vaulted chamber, in which Ornano, Puylaurens,
and his uncle had died. Their three graves were there,
rising above the ground, and a fourth was also there,
yawning for its ghastly tenant.
The duke was obliged to make as many efforts to awake as he
had done to go to sleep; and La Ramee found him so pale and
fatigued that he inquired whether he was ill.
"In fact," said one of the guards who had remained in the
chamber and had been kept awake by a toothache, brought on
by the dampness of the atmosphere, "my lord has had a very
restless night and two or three times, while dreaming, he
called for help."
"What is the matter with your highness?" asked La Ramee.
"'Tis your fault, you simpleton," answered the duke. "With
your idle nonsense yesterday about escaping, you worried me
so that I dreamed that I was trying to escape and broke my
neck in doing so."
La Ramee laughed.
"Come," he said, "'tis a warning from Heaven. Never commit
such an imprudence as to try to escape, except in your
dreams."
"And you are right, my dear La Ramee," said the duke, wiping
away the sweat that stood on his brow, wide awake though he
was; "after this I will think of nothing but eating and
drinking."
"Hush!" said La Ramee; and one by one he sent away the
guards, on various pretexts.
"Well?" asked the duke when they were alone.
"Well!" replied La Ramee, "your supper is ordered."
"Ah! and what is it to be? Monsieur, my majordomo, will
there be a pie?"
"I should think so, indeed -- almost as high as a tower."
"You told him it was for me?"
"Yes, and he said he would do his best to please your
highness."
"Good!" exclaimed the duke, rubbing his hands.
"Devil take it, my lord! what a gourmand you are growing; I
haven't seen you with so cheerful a face these five years."
The duke saw that he had not controlled himself as he ought,
but at that moment, as if he had listened at the door and
comprehended the urgent need of diverting La Ramee's ideas,
Grimaud entered and made a sign to La Ramee that he had
something to say to him.
La Ramee drew near to Grimaud, who spoke to him in a low
voice.
The duke meanwhile recovered his self-control.
"I have already forbidden that man," he said, "to come in
here without my permission."
"You must pardon him, my lord," said La Ramee, "for I
directed him to come."
"And why did you so direct when you know that he displeases
me?"
"My lord will remember that it was agreed between us that he
should wait upon us at that famous supper. My lord has
forgotten the supper."
"No, but I have forgotten Monsieur Grimaud."
"My lord understands that there can be no supper unless he
is allowed to be present."
"Go on, then; have it your own way."
"Come here, my lad," said La Ramee, "and hear what I have to
say."
Grimaud approached, with a very sullen expression on his
face.
La Ramee continued: "My lord has done me the honor to invite
me to a supper to-morrow en tete-a-tete."
Grimaud made a sign which meant that he didn't see what that
had to do with him.
"Yes, yes," said La Ramee, "the matter concerns you, for you
will have the honor to serve us; and besides, however good
an appetite we may have and however great our thirst, there
will be something left on the plates and in the bottles, and
that something will be yours."
Grimaud bowed in thanks.
"And now," said La Ramee, "I must ask your highness's
pardon, but it seems that Monsieur de Chavigny is to be away
for a few days and he has sent me word that he has certain
directions to give me before his departure."
The duke tried to exchange a glance with Grimaud, but there
was no glance in Grimaud's eyes.
"Go, then," said the duke, "and return as soon as possible."
"Does your highness wish to take revenge for the game of
tennis yesterday?"
Grimaud intimated by a scarcely perceptible nod that he
should consent.
"Yes," said the duke, "but take care, my dear La Ramee, for
I propose to beat you badly."
La Ramee went out. Grimaud looked after him, and when the
door was closed he drew out of his pocket a pencil and a
sheet of paper.
"Write, my lord," he said.
"And what?"
Grimaud dictated.
"All is ready for to-morrow evening. Keep watch from seven
to nine. Have two riding horses ready. We shall descend by
the first window in the gallery."
"What next?"
"Sign your name, my lord."
The duke signed.
"Now, my lord, give me, if you have not lost it, the ball --
that which contained the letter."
The duke took it from under his pillow and gave it to
Grimaud. Grimaud gave a grim smile.
"Well?" asked the duke.
"Well, my lord, I sew up the paper in the ball and you, in
your game of tennis, will send the ball into the ditch."
"But will it not be lost?"
"Oh no; there will be some one at hand to pick it up."
"A gardener?"
Grimaud nodded.
"The same as yesterday?"
Another nod on the part of Grimaud.
"The Count de Rochefort?"
Grimaud nodded the third time.
"Come, now," said the duke, "give some particulars of the
plan for our escape."
"That is forbidden me," said Grimaud, "until the last
moment."
"Who will be waiting for me beyond the ditch?"
"I know nothing about it, my lord."
"But at least, if you don't want to see me turn crazy, tell
what that famous pate will contain."
"Two poniards, a knotted rope and a poire d'angoisse."*
*This poire d'angoisse was a famous gag, in the form of a
pear, which, being thrust into the mouth, by the aid of a
spring, dilated, so as to distend the jaws to their greatest
width.
"Yes, I understand."
"My lord observes that there will be enough to go around."
"We shall take to ourselves the poniards and the rope,"
replied the duke.
"And make La Ramee eat the pear," answered Grimaud.
"My dear Grimaud, thou speakest seldom, but when thou dost,
one must do thee justice -- thy words are words of gold."
20
One of Marie Michon's Adventures.
Whilst these projects were being formed by the Duc de
Beaufort and Grimaud, the Comte de la Fere and the Vicomte
de Bragelonne were entering Paris by the Rue du Faubourg
Saint Marcel.
They stopped at the sign of the Fox, in the Rue du Vieux
Colombier, a tavern known for many years by Athos, and asked
for two bedrooms.
"You must dress yourself, Raoul," said Athos, "I am going to
present you to some one."
"To-day, monsieur?" asked the young man.
"In half an hour."
The young man bowed. Perhaps, not being endowed with the
endurance of Athos, who seemed to be made of iron, he would
have preferred a bath in the river Seine of which he had
heard so much, and afterward his bed; but the Comte de la
Fere had spoken and he had no thought but to obey.
"By the way," said Athos, "take some pains with your toilet,
Raoul; I want you to be approved."
"I hope, sir," replied the youth, smiling, "that there's no
idea of a marriage for me; you know of my engagement to
Louise?"
Athos, in his turn, smiled also.
"No, don't be alarmed, although it is to a lady that I am
going to present you, and I am anxious that you should love
her ---- "
The young man looked at the count with a certain uneasiness,
but at a smile from Athos he was quickly reassured.
"How old is she?" inquired the Vicomte de Bragelonne.
"My dear Raoul, learn, once for all, that that is a question
which is never asked. When you can find out a woman's age by
her face, it is useless to ask it; when you cannot do so, it
is indiscreet."
"Is she beautiful?"
"Sixteen years ago she was deemed not only the prettiest,
but the most graceful woman in France."
This reply reassured the vicomte. A woman who had been a
reigning beauty a year before he was born could not be the
subject of any scheme for him. He retired to his toilet.
When he reappeared, Athos received him with the same
paternal smile as that which he had often bestowed on
D'Artagnan, but a more profound tenderness for Raoul was now
visibly impressed upon his face.
Athos cast a glance at his feet, hands and hair -- those
three marks of race. The youth's dark hair was neatly parted
and hung in curls, forming a sort of dark frame around his
face; such was the fashion of the day. Gloves of gray kid,
matching the hat, well displayed the form of a slender and
elegant hand; whilst his boots, similar in color to the hat
and gloves, confined feet small as those of a boy twelve
years old.
"Come," murmured Athos, "if she is not proud of him, she
must be hard to please."
It was three o'clock in the afternoon. The two travelers
proceeded to the Rue Saint Dominique and stopped at the door
of a magnificent hotel, surmounted with the arms of De
Luynes.
"'Tis here," said Athos.
He entered the hotel and ascended the front steps, and
addressing a footman who waited there in a grand livery,
asked if the Duchess de Chevreuse was visible and if she
could receive the Comte de la Fere?
The servant returned with a message to say, that, though the
duchess had not the honor of knowing Monsieur de la Fere,
she would receive him.
Athos followed the footman, who led him through a long
succession of apartments and paused at length before a
closed door. Athos made a sign to the Vicomte de Bragelonne
to remain where he was.
The footman opened the door and announced Monsieur le Comte
de la Fere.
Madame de Chevreuse, whose name appears so often in our
story "The Three Musketeers," without her actually having
appeared in any scene, was still a beautiful woman. Although
about forty-four or forty-five years old, she might have
passed for thirty-five. She still had her rich fair hair;
her large, animated, intelligent eyes, so often opened by
intrigue, so often closed by the blindness of love. She had
still her nymph-like form, so that when her back was turned
she still was not unlike the girl who had jumped, with Anne
of Austria, over the moat of the Tuileries in 1563. In all
other respects she was the same mad creature who threw over
her amours such an air of originality as to make them
proverbial for eccentricity in her family.
She was in a little boudoir, hung with blue damask, adorned
by red flowers, with a foliage of gold, looking upon a
garden; and reclined upon a sofa, her head supported on the
rich tapestry which covered it. She held a book in her hand
and her arm was supported by a cushion.
At the footman's announcement she raised herself a little
and peeped out, with some curiosity.
Athos appeared.
He was dressed in violet-tinted velvet, trimmed with silk of
the same color. His shoulder-knots were of burnished silver,
his mantle had no gold nor embroidery on it; a simple plume
of violet feathers adorned his hat; his boots were of black
leather, and at his girdle hung that sword with a
magnificent hilt that Porthos had so often admired in the
Rue Feron. Splendid lace adorned the falling collar of his
shirt, and lace fell also over the top of his boots.
In his whole person he bore such an impress of high degree,
that Madame de Chevreuse half rose from her seat when she
saw him and made him a sign to sit down near her.
Athos bowed and obeyed. The footman was withdrawing, but
Athos stopped him by a sign.
"Madame," he said to the duchess, "I have had the boldness
to present myself at your hotel without being known to you;
it has succeeded, since you deign to receive me. I have now
the boldness to ask you for an interview of half an hour."
"I grant it, monsieur," replied Madame de Chevreuse with her
most gracious smile.
"But that is not all, madame. Oh, I am very presuming, I am
aware. The interview for which I ask is of us two alone, and
I very earnestly wish that it may not be interrupted."
"I am not at home to any one," said the Duchess de Chevreuse
to the footman. "You may go."
The footman went out
There ensued a brief silence, during which these two
persons, who at first sight recognized each other so clearly
as of noble race, examined each other without embarrassment
on either side.
The duchess was the first to speak.
"Well, sir, I am waiting with impatience to hear what you
wish to say to me."
"And I, madame," replied Athos, "am looking with
