At length they heard the cannon so near that it was evident
they were within a league of the field of battle, and at a
turn of the road they perceived the little village of Aunay.
The peasants were in great commotion. The report of Spanish
cruelty had gone out and every one was frightened. The women
had already fled, taking refuge in Vitry; only a few men
remained. On seeing the prince they hastened to meet him.
One of them recognized him.
"Ah, my lord," he said, "have you come to drive away those
rascal Spaniards and those Lorraine robbers?"
"Yes," said the prince, "if you will serve me as guide."
"Willingly, my lord. Where does your highness wish to go?"
"To some elevated spot whence I can look down on Lens and
the surrounding country ---- "
"In that case, I'm your man."
"I can trust you -- you are a true Frenchman?"
"I am an old soldier of Rocroy, my lord."
"Here," said the prince, handing him a purse, "here is for
Rocroy. Now, do you want a horse, or will you go afoot?"
"Afoot, my lord; I have served always in the infantry.
Besides, I expect to lead your highness into places where
you will have to walk."
"Come, then," said the prince; "let us lose no time."
The peasant started off, running before the prince's horse;
then, a hundred steps from the village, he took a narrow
road hidden at the bottom of the valley. For a half league
they proceeded thus, the cannon-shot sounding so near that
they expected at each discharge to hear the hum of the
balls. At length they entered a path which, going out from
the road, skirted the mountainside. The prince dismounted,
ordered one of his aids and Raoul to follow his example, and
directed the others to await his orders, keeping themselves
meanwhile on the alert. He then began to ascend the path.
In about ten minutes they reached the ruins of an old
chateau; those ruins crowned the summit of a hill which
overlooked the surrounding country. At a distance of hardly
a quarter of a league they looked down on Lens, at bay, and
before Lens the enemy's entire army.
With a single glance the prince took in the extent of
country that lay before him, from Lens as far as Vimy. In a
moment the plan of the battle which on the following day was
to save France the second time from invasion was unrolled in
his mind. He took a pencil, tore a page from his tablets and
wrote:
My Dear Marshal, -- In an hour Lens will be in the enemy's
possession. Come and rejoin me; bring with you the whole
army. I shall be at Vendin to place it in position.
To-morrow we shall retake Lens and beat the enemy."
Then, turning toward Raoul: "Go, monsieur," he said; "ride
fast and give this letter to Monsieur de Grammont."
Raoul bowed, took the letter, went hastily down the
mountain, leaped on his horse and set out at a gallop. A
quarter of an hour later he was with the marshal.
A portion of the troops had already arrived and the
remainder was expected from moment to moment. Marshal de
Grammont put himself at the head of all the available
cavalry and infantry and took the road to Vendin, leaving
the Duc de Chatillon to await and bring on the rest. All the
artillery was ready to move, and started off at a moment's
notice.
It was seven o'clock in the evening when the marshal arrived
at the appointed place. The prince awaited him there. As he
had foreseen, Lens had fallen into the hands of the enemy
immediately after Raoul's departure. The event was announced
by the cessation of the firing.
As the shadows of night deepened the troops summoned by the
prince arrived in successive detachments. Orders were given
that no drum should be beaten, no trumpet sounded.
At nine o'clock the night had fully come. Still a last ray
of twilight lighted the plain. The army marched silently,
the prince at the head of the column. Presently the army
came in sight of Lens; two or three houses were in flames
and a dull noise was heard which indicated what suffering
was endured by a town taken by assault.
The prince assigned to every one his post. Marshal de
Grammont was to hold the extreme left, resting on Mericourt.
The Duc de Chatillon commanded the centre. Finally, the
prince led the right wing, resting on Aunay. The order of
battle on the morrow was to be that of the positions taken
in the evening. Each one, on awaking, would find himself on
the field of battle.
The movement was executed in silence and with precision. At
ten o'clock every one was in his appointed position; at
half-past ten the prince visited the posts and gave his
final orders for the following day.
Three things were especially urged upon the officers, who
were to see that the soldiers observed them scrupulously:
the first, that the different corps should so march that
cavalry and infantry should be on the same line and that
each body should protect its gaps; the second, to go to the
charge no faster than a walk; the third, to let the enemy
fire first.
The prince assigned the Count de Guiche to his father and
kept Bragelonne near his own person; but the two young men
sought the privilege of passing the night together and it
was accorded them. A tent was erected for them near that of
the marshal.
Although the day had been fatiguing, neither of them was
inclined to sleep. And besides, even for old soldiers the
evening before a battle is a serious time; it was so with
greater reason to two young men who were about to witness
for the first time that terrible spectacle. On the evening
before a battle one thinks of a thousand things forgotten
till then; those who are indifferent to one another become
friends and those who are friends become brothers. It need
not be said that if in the depths of the heart there is a
sentiment more tender, it reaches then, quite naturally, the
highest exaltation of which it is capable. Some sentiment of
this kind must have been cherished by each one of these two
friends, for each of them almost immediately sat down by
himself at an end of the tent and began to write.
The letters were long -- the four pages were covered with
closely written words. The writers sometimes looked up at
each other and smiled; they understood without speaking,
their organizations were so delicate and sympathetic. The
letters being finished, each put his own into two envelopes,
so that no one, without tearing the first envelope, could
discover to whom the second was addressed; then they drew
near to each other and smilingly exchanged their letters.
"In case any evil should happen to me," said Bragelonne.
"In case I should be killed," said De Guiche.
They then embraced each other like two brothers, and each
wrapping himself in his cloak they soon passed into that
kindly sleep of youth which is the prerogative of birds,
flowers and infants.
35
A Dinner in the Old Style.
The second interview between the former musketeers was not
so formal and threatening as the first. Athos, with his
superior understanding, wisely deemed that the supper table
would be the most complete and satisfactory point of
reunion, and at the moment when his friends, in deference to
his deportment and sobriety, dared scarcely speak of some of
their former good dinners, he was the first to propose that
they should all assemble around some well spread table and
abandon themselves unreservedly to their own natural
character and manners -- a freedom which had formerly
contributed so much to that good understanding between them
which gave them the name of the inseparables. For different
reasons this was an agreeable proposition to them all, and
it was therefore agreed that each should leave a very exact
address and that upon the request of any of the associates a
meeting should be convoked at a famous eating house in the
Rue de la Monnaie, of the sign of the Hermitage. The first
rendezvous was fixed for the following Wednesday, at eight
o'clock in the evening precisely.
On that day, in fact, the four friends arrived punctually at
the hour, each from his own abode or occupation. Porthos had
been trying a new horse; D'Artagnan was on guard at the
Louvre; Aramis had been to visit one of his penitents in the
neighborhood; and Athos, whose domicile was established in
the Rue Guenegaud, found himself close at hand. They were,
therefore, somewhat surprised to meet altogether at the door
of the Hermitage, Athos starting out from the Pont Neuf,
Porthos by the Rue de la Roule, D'Artagnan by the Rue des
Fosse Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, and Aramis by the Rue de
Bethisy.
The first words exchanged between the four friends, on
account of the ceremony which each of them mingled with
their demonstration, were somewhat forced and even the
repast began with a kind of stiffness. Athos perceived this
embarrassment, and by way of supplying an effectual remedy,
called for four bottles of champagne.
At this order, given in Athos's habitually calm manner, the
face of the Gascon relaxed and Porthos's brow grew smooth.
Aramis was astonished. He knew that Athos not only never
drank, but more, that he had a kind of repugnance to wine.
This astonishment was doubled when Aramis saw Athos fill a
bumper and toss it off with all his former enthusiasm. His
companions followed his example. In a very few minutes the
four bottles were empty and this excellent specific
succeeded in dissipating even the slightest cloud that might
have rested on their spirits. Now the four friends began to
speak loud, scarcely waiting till one had finished before
another began, and each assumed his favorite attitude on or
at the table. Soon -- strange fact -- Aramis undid two
buttons of his doublet, seeing which, Porthos unfastened his
entirely.
Battles, long journeys, blows given and received, sufficed
for the first themes of conversation, which turned upon the
silent struggles sustained against him who was now called
the great cardinal.
"Faith," said Aramis, laughing, "we have praised the dead
enough, let us revile the living a little; I should like to
say something evil of Mazarin; is it permissible?"
"Go on, go on," replied D'Artagnan, laughing heartily;
"relate your story and I will applaud it if it is a good
one."
"A great prince," said Aramis, "with whom Mazarin sought an
alliance, was invited by him to send him a list of the
conditions on which he would do him the honor to negotiate
with him. The prince, who had a great repugnance to treat
with such an ill-bred fellow, made out a list, against the
grain, and sent it. In this list there were three conditions
which displeased Mazarin and he offered the prince ten
thousand crowns to renounce them."
"Ah, ha, ha!" laughed the three friends, "not a bad bargain;
and there was no fear of being taken at his word; what did
the prince do then?"
"The prince immediately sent fifty thousand francs to
Mazarin, begging him never to write to him again, and
offered twenty thousand francs more, on condition that he
would never speak to him. What did Mazarin do?"
"Stormed!" suggested Athos.
"Beat the messenger!" cried Porthos.
"Accepted the money!" said D'Artagnan.
"You have guessed it," answered Aramis; and they all laughed
so heartily that the host appeared in order to inquire
whether the gentlemen wanted anything; he thought they were
fighting.
At last their hilarity calmed down and:
"Faith!" exclaimed D'Artagnan to the two friends, "you may
well wish ill to Mazarin; for I assure you, on his side he
wishes you no good."
"Pooh! really?" asked Athos. "If I thought the fellow knew
me by my name I would be rebaptized, for fear it might be
thought I knew him."
"He knows you better by your actions than your name; he is
quite aware that there are two gentlemen who greatly aided
the escape of Monsieur de Beaufort, and he has instigated an
active search for them, I can answer for it."
"By whom?"
"By me; and this morning he sent for me to ask me if I had
obtained any information."
"And what did you reply?"
"That I had none as yet; but that I was to dine to-day with
two gentlemen, who would be able to give me some."
"You told him that?" said Porthos, a broad smile spreading
over his honest face. "Bravo! and you are not afraid of
that, Athos?"
"No," replied Athos, "it is not the search of Mazarin that I
fear."
"Now," said Aramis, "tell me a little what you do fear."
"Nothing for the present; at least, nothing in good
earnest."
"And with regard to the past?" asked Porthos.
"Oh! the past is another thing," said Athos, sighing; "the
past and the future."
"Are you afraid for your young Raoul?" asked Aramis.
"Well," said D'Artagnan, "one is never killed in a first
engagement."
"Nor in the second," said Aramis
"Nor in the third," returned Porthos; "and even when one is
killed, one rises again, the proof of which is, that here we
are!"
"No," said Athos, "it is not Raoul about whom I am anxious,
for I trust he will conduct himself like a gentleman; and if
he is killed -- well, he will die bravely; but hold --
should such a misfortune happen -- well -- " Athos passed
his hand across his pale brow.
"Well?" asked Aramis.
"Well, I shall look upon it as an expiation."
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan; "I know what you mean."
"And I, too," added Aramis; "but you must not think of that,
Athos; what is past, is past."
