Part 15

— There, Monsieur du Vallon, is a dish I should covet, said he. What! the whole sheep?

— Whole, yes, Sire.

— Pass those pheasants to Monsieur du Vallon; I see he is a connoisseur.

The order was executed.

Then, returning to the sheep:

— And is it not too fat?

— No, Sire; the fats fall away at the same time as the juices and float on top; then my carver removes them with a silver spoon which I had made for the purpose.

— And where do you live? asked the king.

— At Pierrefonds, Sire.

— At Pierrefonds; where is that, Monsieur du Vallon? towards Belle-Île?

— Oh! not at all, Sire, Pierrefonds is in the Soissonnais.

— I thought you spoke to me of those sheep because of the salt meadows.

— No, Sire, I have meadows that are not salt, it is true, but which are none the less valuable for that.

The king passed on to the side dishes, but without losing sight of Porthos, who continued to do his part as best he could.

— You have a fine appetite, Monsieur du Vallon, said he, and make a good guest.

— Ah! faith! Sire, if Your Majesty were ever to come to Pierrefonds, we should eat our sheep together, the two of us, for you are no stranger to appetite yourself.

D'Artagnan gave Porthos a good kick under the table. Porthos blushed.

— At the happy age of Your Majesty, said Porthos to recover himself, I was in the musketeers, and none could satisfy me. Your Majesty has a fine appetite, as I had the honor of telling him, but chooses with too much delicacy to be called a great eater.

The king appeared charmed with the politeness of his opponent.

— Will you taste of these creams? said he to Porthos.

— Sire, Your Majesty treats me too well for me not to tell him the whole truth.

— Speak, Monsieur du Vallon, speak.

— Well! Sire, as for sweet things, I know only pastries, and even then they must be very solid; all these mousses swell my stomach, and take up a place which seems to me too precious to be so ill occupied.

— Ah! gentlemen, said the king, showing Porthos, there is a true model of gastronomy. Thus ate our fathers, who knew so well how to eat, added His Majesty, while we peck.

And, saying these words, he took a plate of white fowl mingled with ham.

Porthos, for his part, began a terrine of partridges and rails.

The cup-bearer gaily filled His Majesty's glass.

— Give some of my wine to Monsieur du Vallon, said the king.

It was one of the great honors of the royal table. D'Artagnan pressed his friend's knee.

— If you can swallow only half that boar's head I see there, said he to Porthos, I will judge you duke and peer within a year.

— Presently, said Porthos phlegmatically, I shall set to it.

The turn of the boar's head was not long in coming indeed, for the king took pleasure in urging this fine guest; he let no dish pass to Porthos without having tasted it himself: he therefore tasted the boar's head. Porthos showed himself a good sport; instead of eating half of it, as d'Artagnan had said, he ate three quarters of it.

— It is impossible, said the king in a half-voice, that a gentleman who sups so well every day, and with such fine teeth, is not the most honest man in my kingdom.

— Do you hear? said d'Artagnan in his friend's ear.

— Yes, I believe I have a little favor, said Porthos, swaying in his chair.

— Oh! you have the wind in your sails. Yes! yes! yes!

The king and Porthos continued to eat thus to the great satisfaction of the guests, some of whom, by emulation, had tried to follow them, but had been forced to give up along the way.

The king reddened, and the reaction of the blood to his face announced the beginning of repletion.

It is then that Louis XIV, instead of becoming merry, as all drinkers do, grew dark and taciturn.

Porthos, on the contrary, became lively and expansive.

D'Artagnan's foot had to remind him more than once of this particularity.

The dessert appeared.

The king no longer thought of Porthos; he turned his eyes towards the entrance door, and he was heard to ask now and then why Monsieur de Saint-Aignan was so long in coming.

At last, at the moment when His Majesty was finishing a pot of plum preserves with a great sigh, Monsieur de Saint-Aignan appeared.

The king's eyes, which had gradually dimmed, shone at once.

The count directed himself towards the king's table, and, at his approach, Louis XIV rose.

Everyone rose, Porthos even, who was finishing a nougat capable of gluing together the two jaws of a crocodile. The supper was over.

Chapter CLIV — After Supper

The king took Saint-Aignan's arm and passed into the adjoining chamber.

— How late you are, count! said the king.

— I was bringing the answer, Sire, replied the count.

— Is it then so long for her to reply to what I wrote her?

— Sire, Your Majesty had deigned to make verses; Mlle de La Vallière wished to repay the king in the same coin, that is to say in gold.

— Verses, de Saint-Aignan!... cried the king, delighted. Give, give.

And Louis broke the seal of a little letter which enclosed indeed verses that history has preserved for us, and which are better in intention than in workmanship.

Such as they were, however, they enchanted the king, who testified his joy by unequivocal transports; but the general silence warned Louis, so ticklish on matters of propriety, that his joy might give matter for interpretation.

He turned round and put the note in his pocket; then, taking a step which brought him back to the threshold of the door near his guests:

— Monsieur du Vallon, said he, I have seen you with the liveliest pleasure, and I shall see you again with a new pleasure.

Porthos bowed, as the Colossus of Rhodes would have done, and withdrew backwards.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, continued the king, you will await my orders in the gallery; I am obliged to you for having made me acquainted with Monsieur du Vallon. Gentlemen, I return to Paris tomorrow, for the departure of the ambassadors of Spain and Holland. Until tomorrow then.

The room emptied at once.

The king took Saint-Aignan's arm, and had him read La Vallière's verses again.

— How do you find them? said he.

— Sire... charming!

— They charm me, indeed, and if they were known...

— Oh! the poets would be jealous; but they shall not know them.

— Did you give her mine?

— Oh! Sire, she devoured them.

— They were weak, I fear.

— That is not what Mlle de La Vallière said of them.

— You believe she found them to her taste?

— I am sure of it, Sire...

— I must reply, then.

— Oh! Sire... at once... after supper... Your Majesty will tire himself.

— I believe you are right: study after a meal is harmful.

— The poet's work above all; and then, at this moment, there would be preoccupation in Mlle de La Vallière.

— What preoccupation?

— Ah! Sire, as with all those ladies.

— Why?

— Because of the accident of that poor de Guiche.

— Ah! my God! has some misfortune befallen de Guiche?

— Yes, Sire, he has a whole hand carried away, he has a hole in the chest, he is dying.

— Good God! and who told you that?

— Manicamp reported it just now at a physician's in Fontainebleau, and the rumor has spread here.

— Reported? Poor de Guiche! and how did this happen to him?

— Ah! there, Sire! how did this happen to him?

— You tell me that in a quite singular air, de Saint-Aignan. Give me details... What does he say?

— He, says nothing, Sire, but the others.

— What others?

— Those who reported it, Sire.

— Who are they, those?

— I know not, Sire; but Monsieur de Manicamp knows, Monsieur de Manicamp is of his friends.

— Like everyone, said the king.

— Oh! no, resumed de Saint-Aignan, you are mistaken, Sire; everyone is not precisely friends with Monsieur de Guiche.

— How do you know?

— Does the king wish me to explain myself?

— Doubtless, I wish it.

— Well! Sire, I believe I heard tell of a quarrel between two gentlemen.

— When?

— This very evening, before Your Majesty's supper.

— That proves little. I have made such severe ordinances regarding duels, that none, I suppose, will dare to contravene them.

— Also God preserve me from accusing anyone! cried de Saint-Aignan. Your Majesty ordered me to speak, I speak.

— Tell me then how the Count de Guiche was wounded.

— Sire, they say he was at the ambush.

— This evening?

— This evening.

— A hand carried away! a hole in the chest! Who was at the ambush with M. de Guiche?

— I know not, Sire... But Monsieur de Manicamp knows or should know.

— You are hiding something from me, de Saint-Aignan.

— Nothing, Sire, nothing.

— Then explain to me the accident; was it a musket that burst?

— Perhaps. But, on reflection, no, Sire, for they found near de Guiche his pistol still loaded.

— His pistol? But, one does not go to the ambush with a pistol, it seems to me.

— Sire, they add that de Guiche's horse was killed, and that the horse's carcass is still in the clearing.

— His horse? De Guiche goes to the ambush on horseback? De Saint-Aignan, I understand nothing of what you tell me. Where did the thing take place?

— Sire, in the Rochin wood, in the round-point.

— Very well. Call Monsieur d'Artagnan.

De Saint-Aignan obeyed. The musketeer entered.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, said the king, you will go out by the little door of the private stair.

— Yes, Sire.

— You will mount on horseback.

— Yes, Sire.

— And you will go to the round-point of the Rochin wood. Do you know the place?

— Sire, I have fought there twice.

— How! cried the king, stunned by the answer.

— Sire, under the edicts of Monsieur the Cardinal de Richelieu, replied d'Artagnan with his ordinary phlegm.

— That is different, monsieur. You will go there then, and will carefully examine the localities. A man has been wounded there, and you will find a dead horse. You will tell me what you think of this event.

— Very well, Sire.

— It goes without saying that it is your own opinion, and not that of another, which I wish to have.

— You shall have it in an hour, Sire.

— I forbid you to communicate with anyone whatsoever.

— Except with him who will give me a lantern, said d'Artagnan.

— Yes, of course, said the king, laughing at this liberty, which he tolerated only in his captain of the musketeers.

D'Artagnan went out by the little stair.

— Now, let my physician be called, added Louis.

Ten minutes later, the king's physician arrived out of breath.

— Monsieur, said the king to him, you will go, with Monsieur de Saint-Aignan where he shall conduct you, and will render me an account of the state of the sick man whom you will see in the house where I pray you to go.

The physician obeyed without remark, as one was beginning from that epoch to obey Louis XIV, and went out preceding de Saint-Aignan.

— You, de Saint-Aignan, send me Manicamp, before the physician can speak to him.

De Saint-Aignan went out in his turn.

Chapter CLV — How d'Artagnan accomplished the mission with which the king had charged him

While the king took these last measures to arrive at the truth, d'Artagnan, without losing a second, ran to the stable, took down the lantern, saddled his horse himself, and directed himself towards the place designated by His Majesty.

He had, according to his promise, seen nor met anyone, and, as we have said, he had pushed scruple to the point of doing, without the intervention of the stable boys and grooms, what he had to do.

D'Artagnan was of those who pride themselves, in difficult moments, on doubling their own worth.

In five minutes of gallop, he was at the wood, tied his horse to the first tree he met, and penetrated on foot to the clearing.

Then he began to traverse on foot, and his lantern in hand, the whole surface of the round-point, came, went back, measured, examined, and, after half an hour of exploration he silently retook his horse, and came back reflecting and at a walk to Fontainebleau.

Louis waited in his cabinet: he was alone and was sketching on a paper lines which at first glance d'Artagnan recognized as uneven and much crossed out.

He concluded from this that they must be verses.

He lifted his head and perceived d'Artagnan.

— Well! monsieur, said he, do you bring me news?

— Yes, Sire.

— What have you seen?

— Here is the probability, Sire, said d'Artagnan.

— It was a certainty that I had asked of you.

— I shall approach it as nearly as I can; the weather was convenient for investigations of the kind I have just made: it rained this evening and the roads were soaked...

— To the point, monsieur d'Artagnan.

— Sire, Your Majesty had told me there was a dead horse at the crossroads of the Rochin wood; I therefore began by studying the roads.

"I say the roads, seeing that one arrives at the center of the crossroads by four roads.

"The one I had myself followed presented alone fresh traces. Two horses had followed it side by side: their eight feet were marked quite distinctly in the clay.

"One of the riders was more pressed than the other. The steps of the one are always ahead of the other by half a horse's length.

— Then you are sure they came two together? said the king.

— Yes, Sire. The horses are two large beasts of equal pace, horses accustomed to maneuver, for they turned in perfect oblique the barrier of the round-point.

— After, monsieur?

— There, the riders remained an instant to settle no doubt the conditions of the combat; the horses grew impatient. One of the riders spoke, the other listened and contented himself with replying. His horse scraped the earth with its foot, which proves that, in his preoccupation to listen, he let the bridle loose.

— Then there was combat?

— Without contest.

— Continue; you are a skillful observer.

— One of the two riders remained in place, he who listened; the other crossed the clearing, and first went to place himself face to face with his adversary. Then he who had remained in place traversed the round-point at a gallop to two thirds of its length, believing he was advancing on his enemy; but the latter had followed the circumference of the wood.

— You ignore the names, do you not?

— Quite, Sire. Only, he who had followed the circumference of the wood rode a black horse.

— How do you know that?

— A few hairs of its tail remained on the brambles which line the edge of the ditch.

— Continue.

— As for the other horse, I had no trouble making its description, since it remained dead on the battlefield.

— And of what did this horse die?

— Of a ball which pierced its temple.

— That ball was from a pistol or a gun?

— From a pistol, Sire. Moreover, the wound of the horse indicated to me the tactic of him who had killed it. He had followed the circumference of the wood to have his adversary in flank. I have besides followed his steps on the grass.

— The steps of the black horse?

— Yes, Sire.

— Go on, monsieur d'Artagnan.

— Now that Your Majesty sees the position of the two adversaries, I must leave the stationary rider for the rider who passes at a gallop.

— Do so.

— The horse of the charging rider was killed on the spot.

— How do you know that?

— The rider had not time to dismount and fell with it. I saw the trace of his leg, which he had drawn with effort from under the horse. The spur, pressed by the weight of the animal, had plowed the earth.

— Very well. And what did he say on rising?

— He marched straight on his adversary.

— Always placed on the edge of the wood?

— Yes, Sire. Then, arrived at a fair range, he stopped solidly, his two heels marked near each other, he fired and missed his adversary.

— How do you know that, that he missed him?

— I found the hat pierced by a ball.

— Ah! a proof, cried the king.

— Insufficient, Sire, replied d'Artagnan coldly: it is a hat without letters, without arms; a red feather like on all hats; the braid even has nothing particular.

— And the man with the pierced hat, did he fire his second shot?

— Oh! Sire, his two shots were already fired.

— How did you know that?

— I found the wads of the pistol.

— And the ball which did not kill the horse, what became of it?

— It cut the feather of the hat of him at whom it was directed, and went to break a little birch on the other side of the clearing.

— Then, the man on the black horse was unarmed, while his adversary had yet a shot to fire.

— Sire, while the dismounted rider was rising, the other was reloading his weapon. Only, he was much troubled in reloading it, his hand trembled.

— How do you know that?

— Half the charge fell to the ground, and he threw away the ramrod, not taking the time to put it back in the pistol.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, what you say there is marvelous!

— It is only observation, Sire, and the least camp-follower would do as much.

— One sees the scene merely by hearing you.

— I have, indeed, reconstructed it in my mind, with few changes.

— Now, let us return to the dismounted rider. You said he had marched on his adversary while the latter reloaded his pistol?

— Yes; but at the moment when he himself aimed, the other fired.

— Oh! said the king, and the shot?

— The shot was terrible, Sire; the dismounted rider fell on his face after taking three unsure steps.

— Where had he been struck?

— In two places: at the right hand first, then, with the same shot, at the chest.

— But how can you guess that? asked the king, full of admiration.

— Oh! it is quite simple: the butt of the pistol was all bloodied, and one saw the trace of the ball with the fragments of a broken ring. The wounded man therefore had, in all probability, the ring finger and little finger carried away.

— That is for the hand, I grant; but the chest?

— Sire, there were two pools of blood at the distance of two feet and a half from each other. At one of these pools, the grass was torn by the clenched hand; at the other, the grass was merely flattened by the weight of the body.

— Poor de Guiche! cried the king.

— Ah! it was Monsieur de Guiche? said the musketeer tranquilly. I had suspected it; but I dared not speak of it to Your Majesty.

— And how did you suspect it?

— I had recognized the Grammont arms on the holsters of the dead horse.

— And do you believe him grievously wounded?

— Very grievously, since he fell on the spot and remained long in the same place; however he was able to walk, on leaving, supported by two friends.

— You met him then, returning?

— No; but I picked up the steps of the three men: the man on the right and the man on the left walked freely, easily; but he in the middle had the heavy step. Moreover, traces of blood accompanied that step.

— Now, monsieur, since you have so well seen the combat that no detail of it has escaped you, tell me two words of the adversary of de Guiche.

— Oh! Sire, I do not know him.

— You who see everything so well, however.

— Yes, Sire, said d'Artagnan, I see everything; but I do not say all that I see, and, since the poor devil has escaped, may Your Majesty permit me to tell him that it is not I who will denounce him.

— It is nevertheless a guilty man, monsieur, he who fights in duel.

— Not for me, Sire, said d'Artagnan coldly.

— Monsieur, cried the king, do you well know what you say?

— Perfectly, Sire; but, in my eyes, see you, a man who fights well is a brave man. That is my opinion. You may have another; it is natural, you are the master.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, I have nevertheless ordered...

D'Artagnan interrupted the king with a respectful gesture.

— You ordered me to go seek information on a combat, Sire; you have it. Do you order me to arrest the adversary of Monsieur de Guiche, I shall obey; but do not order me to denounce him to you, for, this time, I shall not obey.

— Well! arrest him.

— Name him to me, Sire.

Louis stamped his foot.

Then, after a moment of reflection:

— You are ten times, twenty times, a hundred times right, said he.

— That is my opinion, Sire; I am happy that it is at the same time that of Your Majesty.

— One more word... Who brought aid to de Guiche?

— I know not.

— But you speak of two men... There was then a witness?

— There was no witness. There is more... Monsieur de Guiche once fallen, his adversary fled without even bringing him aid.

— The wretch!

— Why, Sire, it is the effect of your ordinances. One fought well, escaped a first death, one wishes to escape a second. One remembers Monsieur de Boutteville... Peste!

— And, then one becomes cowardly.

— No, one becomes prudent.

— Therefore, he fled?

— Yes, and as quickly as his horse could carry him even.

— And in what direction?

— In that of the castle.

— After?

— After, I had the honor to tell Your Majesty, two men, on foot, came who took away Monsieur de Guiche.

— What proof have you that these men came after the combat?

— Ah! a manifest proof; at the moment of the combat, the rain had just ceased, the ground had not had time to absorb it and had become humid: the steps sink in; but after the combat, but during the time that Monsieur de Guiche remained fainting, the earth consolidated and the steps impregnated less deeply.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, said he, you are, in truth, the most skillful man in my kingdom.

— That is what Monsieur de Richelieu thought, that is what Monsieur de Mazarin said, Sire.

— Now, it remains for us to see if your sagacity is at fault.

— Oh! Sire, man is mistaken: Errare humanum est, said the musketeer philosophically.

— Then you do not belong to humanity, monsieur d'Artagnan, for I believe you never mistake.

— Your Majesty said we were going to see.

— Yes.

— How so, if it please him?

— I have sent for Monsieur de Manicamp, and Monsieur de Manicamp is going to come.

— And Monsieur de Manicamp knows the secret?

— De Guiche has no secrets for Monsieur de Manicamp.

— None assisted at the combat, I repeat, and, unless Monsieur de Manicamp is one of those two men who brought him back...

— Hush! said the king, here he comes: stay there and lend an ear.

— Very well, Sire, said the musketeer.

At the same minute, Manicamp and de Saint-Aignan appeared at the threshold of the door.

Chapter CLVI — The Ambush

“Stories of the world, in your language.”