seen his master extricate himself from so many difficulties
that nothing less than Athos's imminent death was likely to
make him uneasy.
At the branching off of the road toward Paris, Aramis, who
had followed in the cardinal's suite, turned back. Mazarin
went to the right hand and Aramis could see the prisoner
disappear at the turning of the avenue. Athos, at the same
moment, moved by a similar impulse, looked back also. The
two friends exchanged a simple inclination of the head and
Aramis put his finger to his hat, as if to bow, Athos alone
comprehending by that signal that he had some project in his
head.
Ten minutes afterward Mazarin entered the court of that
chateau which his predecessor had built for him at Rueil; as
he alighted, Comminges approached him.
"My lord," he asked, "where does your eminence wish Monsieur
Comte de la Fere to be lodged?"
"In the pavilion of the orangery, of course, in front of the
pavilion where the guard is. I wish every respect to be
shown the count, although he is the prisoner of her majesty
the queen."
"My lord," answered Comminges, "he begs to be taken to the
place where Monsieur d'Artagnan is confined -- that is, in
the hunting lodge, opposite the orangery.
Mazarin thought for an instant.
Comminges saw that he was undecided.
"'Tis a very strong post," he resumed, "and we have forty
good men, tried soldiers, having no connection with
Frondeurs nor any interest in the Fronde."
"If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges,"
said Mazarin, "we must double the guard, and we are not rich
enough in fighting men to commit such acts of prodigality."
Comminges smiled; Mazarin read and construed that smile.
"You do not know these men, Monsieur Comminges, but I know
them, first personally, also by hearsay. I sent them to
carry aid to King Charles and they performed prodigies to
save him; had it not been for an adverse destiny, that
beloved monarch would this day have been among us."
"But since they served your eminence so well, why are they,
my lord cardinal, in prison?"
"In prison?" said Mazarin, "and when has Rueil been a
prison?"
"Ever since there were prisoners in it," answered Comminges.
"These gentlemen, Comminges, are not prisoners," returned
Mazarin, with his ironical smile, "only guests; but guests
so precious that I have put a grating before each of their
windows and bolts to their doors, that they may not refuse
to continue my visitors. So much do I esteem them that I am
going to make the Comte de la Fere a visit, that I may
converse with him tete-a-tete, and that we may not be
disturbed at our interview you must conduct him, as I said
before, to the pavilion of the orangery; that, you know, is
my daily promenade. Well, while taking my walk I will call
on him and we will talk. Although he professes to be my
enemy I have sympathy for him, and if he is reasonable
perhaps we shall arrange matters."
Comminges bowed, and returned to Athos, who was awaiting
with apparent calmness, but with real anxiety, the result of
the interview.
"Well?" he said to the lieutenant.
"Sir," replied Comminges, "it seems that it is impossible."
"Monsieur de Comminges," said Athos, "I have been a soldier
all my life and I know the force of orders; but outside your
orders there is a service you can render me."
"I will do it with all my heart," said Comminges; "for I
know who you are and what service you once performed for her
majesty; I know, too, how dear to you is the young man who
came so valiantly to my aid when that old rogue of a
Broussel was arrested. I am entirely at your service, except
only for my orders."
"Thank you, sir; what I am about to ask will not compromise
you in any degree."
"If it should even compromise me a little," said Monsieur de
Comminges, with a smile, "still make your demand. I don't
like Mazarin any better than you do. I serve the queen and
that draws me naturally into the service of the cardinal;
but I serve the one with joy and the other against my will.
Speak, then, I beg of you; I wait and listen."
"Since there is no harm," said Athos, "in my knowing that
D'Artagnan is here, I presume there will be none in his
knowing that I am here."
"I have received no orders on that point."
"Well, then, do me the kindness to give him my regards and
tell him that I am his neighbor. Tell him also what you have
just told me -- that Mazarin has placed me in the pavilion
of the orangery in order to make me a visit, and assure him
that I shall take advantage of this honor he proposes to
accord to me to obtain from him some amelioration of our
captivity."
"Which cannot last," interrupted Comminges; "the cardinal
said so; there is no prison here."
"But there are oubliettes!" replied Athos, smiling.
"Oh! that's a different thing; yes, I know there are
traditions of that sort," said Comminges. "It was in the
time of the other cardinal, who was a great nobleman; but
our Mazarin -- impossible! an Italian adventurer would not
dare to go such lengths with such men as ourselves.
Oubliettes are employed as a means of kingly vengeance, and
a low-born fellow such as he is would not have recourse to
them. Your arrest is known, that of your friends will soon
be known; and all the nobility of France would demand an
explanation of your disappearance. No, no, be easy on that
score. I will, however, inform Monsieur d'Artagnan of your
arrival here."
Comminges then led the count to a room on the ground floor
of a pavilion, at the end of the orangery. They passed
through a courtyard as they went, full of soldiers and
courtiers. In the centre of this court, in the form of a
horseshoe, were the buildings occupied by Mazarin, and at
each wing the pavilion (or smaller building), where
D'Artagnan was confined, and that, level with the orangery,
where Athos was to be. From the ends of these two wings
extended the park.
Athos, when he reached his appointed room, observed through
the gratings of his window, walls and roofs; and was told,
on inquiry, by Comminges, that he was looking on the back of
the pavilion where D'Artagnan was confined.
"Yes, 'tis too true," said Comminges, "'tis almost a prison;
but what a singular fancy this is of yours, count -- you,
who are the very flower of our nobility -- to squander your
valor and loyalty amongst these upstarts, the Frondists!
Really, count, if ever I thought that I had a friend in the
ranks of the royal army, it was you. A Frondeur! you, the
Comte de la Fere, on the side of Broussel, Blancmesnil and
Viole! For shame! you, a Frondeur!"
"On my word of honor," said Athos, "one must be either a
Mazarinist or a Frondeur. For a long time I had these words
whispered in my ears, and I chose the latter; at any rate,
it is a French word. And now, I am a Frondeur -- not of
Broussel's party, nor of Blancmesnil's, nor am I with Viole;
but with the Duc de Beaufort, the Ducs de Bouillon and
d'Elbeuf; with princes, not with presidents, councillors and
low-born lawyers. Besides, what a charming outlook it would
have been to serve the cardinal! Look at that wall --
without a single window -- which tells you fine things about
Mazarin's gratitude!"
"Yes," replied De Comminges, "more especially if it could
reveal how Monsieur d'Artagnan for this last week has been
anathematizing him."
"Poor D'Artagnan'" said Athos, with the charming melancholy
that was one of the traits of his character, "so brave, so
good, so terrible to the enemies of those he loves. You have
two unruly prisoners there, sir."
"Unruly," Comminges smiled; "you wish to terrify me, I
suppose. When he came here, Monsieur D'Artagnan provoked and
braved the soldiers and inferior officers, in order, I
suppose, to have his sword back. That mood lasted some time;
but now he's as gentle as a lamb and sings Gascon songs,
which make one die of laughing."
"And Du Vallon?" asked Athos.
"Ah, he's quite another sort of person -- a formidable
gentleman, indeed. The first day he broke all the doors in
with a single push of his shoulder; and I expected to see
him leave Rueil in the same way as Samson left Gaza. But his
temper cooled down, like his friend's; he not only gets used
to his captivity, but jokes about it."
"So much the better," said Athos.
"Do you think anything else was to be expected of them?"
asked Comminges, who, putting together what Mazarin had said
of his prisoners and what the Comte de la Fere had said,
began to feel a degree of uneasiness.
Athos, on the other hand, reflected that this recent
gentleness of his friends most certainly arose from some
plan formed by D'Artagnan. Unwilling to injure them by
praising them too highly, he replied: "They? They are two
hotheads -- the one a Gascon, the other from Picardy; both
are easily excited, but they quiet down immediately. You
have had a proof of that in what you have just related to
me."
This, too, was the opinion of Comminges, who withdrew
somewhat reassured. Athos remained alone in the vast
chamber, where, according to the cardinal's directions, he
was treated with all the courtesy due to a nobleman. He
awaited Mazarin's promised visit to get some light on his
present situation.
83
Strength and Sagacity.
Now let us pass the orangery to the hunting lodge. At the
extremity of the courtyard, where, close to a portico formed
of Ionic columns, were the dog kennels, rose an oblong
building, the pavilion of the orangery, a half circle,
inclosing the court of honor. It was in this pavilion, on
the ground floor, that D'Artagnan and Porthos were confined,
suffering interminable hours of imprisonment in a manner
suitable to each different temperament.
D'Artagnan was pacing to and fro like a caged tiger; with
dilated eyes, growling as he paced along by the bars of a
window looking upon the yard of servant's offices.
Porthos was ruminating over an excellent dinner he had just
demolished.
The one seemed to be deprived of reason, yet he was
meditating. The other seemed to meditate, yet he was more
than half asleep. But his sleep was a nightmare, which might
be guessed by the incoherent manner in which he sometimes
snored and sometimes snorted.
"Look," said D'Artagnan, "day is declining. It must be
nearly four o'clock. We have been in this place nearly
eighty-three hours."
"Hem!" muttered Porthos, with a kind of pretense of
answering.
"Did you hear, eternal sleeper?" cried D'Artagnan, irritated
that any one could doze during the day, when he had the
greatest difficulty in sleeping during the night.
"What?" said Porthos.
"I say we have been here eighty-three hours."
"'Tis your fault," answered Porthos.
"How, my fault?"
"Yes, I offered you escape."
"By pulling out a bar and pushing down a door?"
"Certainly."
"Porthos, men like us can't go out from here purely and
simply."
"Faith!" said Porthos, "as for me, I could go out with that
purity and that simplicity which it seems to me you despise
too much."
D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders.
"And besides," he said, "going out of this chamber isn't
all."
"Dear friend," said Porthos, "you appear to be in a somewhat
better humor to-day than you were yesterday. Explain to me
why going out of this chamber isn't everything."
"Because, having neither arms nor password, we shouldn't
take fifty steps in the court without knocking against a
sentinel."
Very well," said Porthos, "we will kill the sentinel and we
shall have his arms."
"Yes, but before we can kill him -- and he will be hard to
kill, that Swiss -- he will shriek out and the whole picket
will come, and we shall be taken like foxes, we, who are
lions, and thrown into some dungeon, where we shall not even
have the consolation of seeing this frightful gray sky of
Rueil, which no more resembles the sky of Tarbes than the
moon is like the sun. Lack-a-day! if we only had some one to
instruct us about the physical and moral topography of this
castle. Ah! when one thinks that for twenty years, during
which time I did not know what to do with myself, it never
occurred to me to come to study Rueil."
"What difference does that make?" said Porthos. "We shall go
out all the same."
"Do you know, my dear fellow, why master pastrycooks never
work with their hands?"
"No," said Porthos, "but I should be glad to be informed."
"It is because in the presence of their pupils they fear
that some of their tarts or creams may turn out badly
cooked."
"What then?"
"Why, then they would be laughed at, and a master pastrycook
must never be laughed at."
"And what have master pastrycooks to do with us?"
"We ought, in our adventures, never to be defeated or give
any one a chance to laugh at us. In England, lately, we
failed, we were beaten, and that is a blemish on our
reputation."
"By whom, then, were we beaten?" asked Porthos.
"By Mordaunt."
"Yes, but we have drowned Monsieur Mordaunt."
"That is true, and that will redeem us a little in the eyes
