return to the same question -- a stupid one, I admit, but
very necessary -- have you any money?"
"Something like a hundred pistoles, that my farmer sent to
me the day before I left Bragelonne; but out of that sum I
ought to leave fifty for Raoul -- a young man must live
respectably. I have then about fifty pistoles. And you?"
"As for me, I am quite sure that after turning out all my
pockets and emptying my drawers I shall not find ten louis
at home. Fortunately Lord de Winter is rich."
"Lord de Winter is ruined for the moment; Oliver Cromwell
has annexed his income resources."
"Now is the time when Baron Porthos would be useful."
"Now it is that I regret D'Artagnan."
"Let us entice them away."
"This secret, Aramis, does not belong to us; take my advice,
then, and let no one into our confidence. And moreover, in
taking such a step we should appear to be doubtful of
ourselves. Let us regret their absence to ourselves for our
own sakes, but not speak of it."
"You are right; but what are you going to do until this
evening? I have two things to postpone."
"And what are they?"
"First, a thrust with the coadjutor, whom I met last night
at Madame de Rambouillet's and whom I found particular in
his remarks respecting me."
"Oh, fie -- a quarrel between priests, a duel between
allies!"
"What can I do, friend? he is a bully and so am I; his
cassock is a burden to him and I imagine I have had enough
of mine; in fact, there is so much resemblance between us
that I sometimes believe he is Aramis and I am the
coadjutor. This kind of life fatigues and oppresses me;
besides, he is a turbulent fellow, who will ruin our party.
I am convinced that if I gave him a box on the ear, such as
I gave this morning to the little citizen who splashed me,
it would change the appearance of things."
"And I, my dear Aramis," quietly replied Athos, "I think it
would only change Monsieur de Retz's appearance. Take my
advice, leave things just as they are; besides, you are
neither of you now your own masters; he belongs to the
Fronde and you to the queen of England. So, if the second
matter which you regret being unable to attend to is not
more important than the first ---- "
"Oh! that is of the first importance."
"Attend to it, then, at once."
"Unfortunately, it is a thing that I can't perform at any
time I choose. It was arranged for the evening and no other
time will serve."
"I understand," said Athos smiling, "midnight."
"About that time."
"But, my dear fellow, those are things that bear
postponement and you must put it off, especially with so
good an excuse to give on your return ---- "
"Yes, if I return."
"If you do not return, how does it concern you? Be
reasonable. Come, you are no longer twenty years old."
"To my great regret, mordieu! Ah, if I were but twenty years
old!"
"Yes," said Athos, "doubtless you would commit great
follies! But now we must part. I have one or two visits to
make and a letter yet to write. Call for me at eight o'clock
or shall I wait supper for you at seven?"
"That will do very well," said Aramis. "I have twenty visits
to make and as many letters to write."
They then separated. Athos went to pay a visit to Madame de
Vendome, left his name at Madame de Chevreuse's and wrote
the following letter to D'Artagnan:
"Dear Friend, -- I am about to set off with Aramis on
important business. I wished to make my adieux to you, but
time does not permit. Remember that I write to you now to
repeat how much affection for you I still cherish.
"Raoul is gone to Blois and is ignorant of my departure;
watch over him in my absence as much as you possibly can;
and if by chance you receive no news of me three months
hence, tell him to open a packet which he will find
addressed to him in my bronze casket at Blois, of which I
send you now the key.
"Embrace Porthos from Aramis and myself. Adieu, perhaps
farewell."
At the hour agreed upon Aramis arrived; he was dressed as an
officer and had the old sword at his side which he had drawn
so often and which he was more than ever ready to draw.
"By-the-bye," he said, "I think that we are decidedly wrong
to depart thus, without leaving a line for Porthos and
D'Artagnan."
"The thing is done, dear friend," said Athos; "I foresaw
that and have embraced them both from you and myself."
"You are a wonderful man, my dear count," said Aramis; "you
think of everything."
"Well, have you made up your mind to this journey?"
"Quite; and now that I reflect about it, I am glad to leave
Paris at this moment."
"And so am I," replied Athos; "my only regret is not having
seen D'Artagnan; but the rascal is so cunning, he might have
guessed our project."
When supper was over Blaisois entered. "Sir," said he, "here
is Monsieur d'Artagnan's answer."
"But I did not tell you there would be an answer, stupid!"
said Athos.
"And I set off without waiting for one, but he called me
back and gave me this;" and he presented a little leather
bag, plump and giving out a golden jingle.
Athos opened it and began by drawing forth a little note,
written in these terms:
"My dear Count, -- When one travels, and especially for
three months, one never has a superfluity of money. Now,
recalling former times of mutual distress, I send you half
my purse; it is money to obtain which I made Mazarin sweat.
Don't make a bad use of it, I entreat you.
"As to what you say about not seeing you again, I believe
not a word of it; with such a heart as yours -- and such a
sword -- one passes through the valley of the shadow of
death a dozen times, unscathed and unalarmed. Au revoir, not
farewell.
"It is unnecessary to say that from the day I saw Raoul I
loved him; nevertheless, believe that I heartily pray that I
may not become to him a father, however much I might be
proud of such a son.
"Your
"D'Artagnan.
"P.S. -- Be it well understood that the fifty louis which I
send are equally for Aramis as for you -- for you as
Aramis."
Athos smiled, and his fine eye was dimmed by a tear.
D'Artagnan, who had loved him so tenderly, loved him still,
although a Mazarinist.
"There are the fifty louis, i'faith," said Aramis, emptying
the purse on the table, all bearing the effigy of Louis
XIII. "Well, what shall you do with this money, count? Shall
you keep it or send it back?"
"I shall keep it, Aramis, and even though I had no need of
it I still should keep it. What is offered from a generous
heart should be accepted generously. Take twenty-five of
them, Aramis, and give me the remaining twenty-five."
"All right; I am glad to see you are of my opinion. There
now, shall we start?"
"When you like; but have you no groom?"
"No; that idiot Bazin had the folly to make himself verger,
as you know, and therefore cannot leave Notre Dame.
"Very well, take Blaisois, with whom I know not what to do,
since I already have Grimaud."
"Willingly," said Aramis.
At this moment Grimaud appeared at the door. "Ready," said
he, with his usual curtness.
"Let us go, then," said Athos.
The two friends mounted, as did their servants. At the
corner of the Quai they encountered Bazin, who was running
breathlessly.
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed he, "thank Heaven I have arrived in
time. Monsieur Porthos has just been to your house and has
left this for you, saying that the letter was important and
must be given to you before you left."
"Good," said Aramis, taking a purse which Bazin presented to
him. "What is this?"
"Wait, your reverence, there is a letter."
"You know I have already told you that if you ever call me
anything but chevalier I will break every bone in your body.
Give me the letter."
"How can you read?" asked Athos, "it is as dark as a cold
oven."
"Wait," said Bazin, striking a flint, and setting afire a
twisted wax-light, with which he started the church candles.
Thus illumined, Aramis read the following epistle:
My dear D'Herblay, -- I learned from D'Artagnan who has
embraced me on the part of the Comte de la Fere and
yourself, that you are setting out on a journey which may
perhaps last two or three months; as I know that you do not
like to ask money of your friends I offer you some of my own
accord. Here are two hundred pistoles, which you can dispose
of as you wish and return to me when opportunity occurs. Do
not fear that you put me to inconvenience; if I want money I
can send for some to any of my chateaux; at Bracieux alone,
I have twenty thousand francs in gold. So, if I do not send
you more it is because I fear you would not accept a larger
sum.
"I address you, because you know, that although I esteem him
from my heart I am a little awed by the Comte de la Fere;
but it is understood that what I offer you I offer him at
the same time.
"I am, as I trust you do not doubt, your devoted
"Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.
"Well," said Aramis, "what do you say to that?"
"I say, my dear D'Herblay, that it is almost sacrilege to
distrust Providence when one has such friends, and therefore
we will divide the pistoles from Porthos, as we divided the
louis sent by D'Artagnan."
The division being made by the light of Bazin's taper, the
two friends continued their road and a quarter of an hour
later they had joined De Winter at the Porte Saint Denis.
43
In which it is proved that first Impulses are oftentimes the
best.
The three gentlemen took the road to Picardy, a road so well
known to them and which recalled to Athos and Aramis some of
the most picturesque adventures of their youth.
"If Musqueton were with us," observed Athos, on reaching the
spot where they had had a dispute with the paviers, "how he
would tremble at passing this! Do you remember, Aramis, that
it was here he received that famous bullet wound?"
"By my faith, 'twould be excusable in him to tremble,"
replied Aramis, "for even I feel a shudder at the
recollection; hold, just above that tree is the little spot
where I thought I was killed."
It was soon time for Grimaud to recall the past. Arriving
before the inn at which his master and himself had made such
an enormous repast, he approached Athos and said, showing
him the airhole of the cellar:
"Sausages!"
Athos began to laugh, for this juvenile escapade of his
appeared to be as amusing as if some one had related it of
another person.
At last, after traveling two days and a night, they arrived
at Boulogne toward the evening, favored by magnificent
weather. Boulogne was a strong position, then almost a
deserted town, built entirely on the heights; what is now
called the lower town did not then exist.
"Gentlemen," said De Winter, on reaching the gate of the
town, "let us do here as at Paris -- let us separate to
avoid suspicion. I know an inn, little frequented, but of
which the host is entirely devoted to me. I will go there,
where I expect to find letters, and you go to the first
tavern in the town, to L'Epee du Grand Henri for instance,
refresh yourselves, and in two hours be upon the jetty; our
boat is waiting for us there."
The matter being thus decided, the two friends found, about
two hundred paces further, the tavern indicated. Their
horses were fed, but not unsaddled; the grooms supped, for
it was already late, and their two masters, impatient to
return, appointed a place of meeting with them on the jetty
and desired them on no account to exchange a word with any
one. It is needless to say that this caution concerned
Blaisois alone -- long enough since it had been a useless
one to Grimaud.
Athos and Aramis walked down toward the port. From their
dress, covered with dust, and from a certain easy manner by
means of which a man accustomed to travel is always
recognizable, the two friends excited the attention of a few
promenaders. There was more especially one upon whom their
arrival had produced a decided impression. This man, whom
they had noticed from the first for the same reason they had
themselves been remarked by others, was walking in a
listless way up and down the jetty. From the moment he
perceived them he did not cease to look at them and seemed
to burn with the wish to speak to them.
On reaching the jetty Athos and Aramis stopped to look at a
little boat made fast to a pile and ready rigged as if
waiting to start.
"That is doubtless our boat," said Athos.
"Yes," replied Aramis, "and the sloop out there making ready
to sail must be that which is to take us to our destination;
now," continued he, "if only De Winter does not keep us
waiting. It is not at all amusing here; there is not a
single woman passing."
"Hush!" said Athos, "we are overheard."
In truth, the walker, who, during the observations of the
two friends, had passed and repassed behind them several
times, stopped at the name of De Winter; but as his face
betrayed no emotion at mention of this name, it might have
been by chance he stood so still.
"Gentlemen," said the man, who was young and pale, bowing
with ease and courtesy, "pardon my curiosity, but I see you
come from Paris, or at least that you are strangers at
