Part 34

The king stopped. Before this words so frank, so true, from his captain of the musketeers, there was nothing to object. The king, on hearing d'Artagnan, recalled the d'Artagnan of former days, the one who, at the Palais-Royal, hid behind the curtains of his bed, when the people of Paris, led by Cardinal de Retz, came to assure themselves of the king's presence; d'Artagnan whom he saluted with his hand at the window of his carriage, when he went to Notre-Dame on returning to Paris; the soldier who had left him at Blois; the lieutenant whom he had called to his side, when the death of Mazarin restored him his power; the man he had always found loyal, courageous, and devoted.

Louis advanced toward the door, and called Colbert.

Colbert had not left the corridor where the secretaries were working. Colbert appeared.

— Colbert, you had a search made at M. Fouquet's?

— Yes, Sire.

— What did it produce?

— M. de Roncherat, sent with Your Majesty's musketeers, handed me papers, replied Colbert.

— I shall see them... You are going to give me your hand.

— My hand, Sire!

— Yes, so that I may place it in that of M. d'Artagnan. Indeed, d'Artagnan, he added with a smile, turning toward the soldier, who, at the sight of the clerk, had resumed his haughty attitude, you do not know the man here; make his acquaintance.

And he showed him Colbert.

— He is a mediocre servant in subordinate positions, but he will be a great man if I raise him to the first rank.

— Sire! stammered Colbert, overcome with pleasure and fear.

— I understood why, murmured d'Artagnan in the king's ear: he was jealous?

— Precisely, and his jealousy tied his wings.

— He will henceforth be a winged serpent, grumbled the musketeer with a remnant of hatred against his adversary of a moment before.

But Colbert, approaching him, offered to his eyes a countenance so different from that which he was accustomed to see in him; he appeared so good, so gentle, so easy, his eyes took on the expression of so noble an intelligence, that d'Artagnan, a connoisseur of faces, was moved, almost changed in his convictions.

Colbert pressed his hand.

— What the king has told you, monsieur, proves how well His Majesty knows men. The relentless opposition I have displayed, until this day, against abuses, not against men, proves that I had in view the preparation for my king of a great reign; for my country, a great prosperity. I have many ideas, M. d'Artagnan; you will see them bloom in the sunlight of public peace; and, if I have not the certainty and the happiness of winning the friendship of honest men, I am at least certain, monsieur, that I shall obtain their esteem. For their admiration, monsieur, I would give my life.

This change, this sudden elevation, this silent approval of the king, gave the musketeer much to think upon. He saluted Colbert very civilly, who did not lose sight of him.

The king, seeing them reconciled, dismissed them; they went out together.

Once outside the cabinet, the new minister, stopping the captain, said to him:

— Is it possible, M. d'Artagnan, that with an eye like yours, you did not, at first glance, at first inspection, recognize who I am?

— M. Colbert, replied the musketeer, the ray of sunlight one has in the eye prevents seeing the fiercest furnaces. The man in power radiates, you know, and, since you are there, why would you continue to persecute him who has just fallen into disgrace and fallen from so high?

— I, monsieur? said Colbert. Oh! monsieur, I shall never persecute him. I wished to administer the finances, and to administer them alone, because I am ambitious, and above all because I have the fullest confidence in my own merit; because I know that all the gold of this country will fall under my view, and I love to see the king's gold; because, if I live thirty years, in thirty years, not a penny will remain in my hand; because with that gold, I shall build granaries, edifices, cities, I shall dig ports; because I shall create a navy, I shall equip ships that will carry the name of France to the most distant peoples; because I shall create libraries, academies; because I shall make France the first country in the world and the richest. Those are the motives of my animosity against M. Fouquet, who prevented me from acting. And then, when I am great and strong, when France is great and strong, in my turn, I shall cry: 'Mercy!'

— Mercy! did you say? Then let us ask the king for his liberty. The king oppresses him today only because of you.

Colbert raised his head once more.

— Monsieur, said he, you know well that it is nothing of the sort, and that the king has personal enmities against M. Fouquet; it is not for me to tell you that.

— The king will tire, he will forget.

— The king never forgets, M. d'Artagnan... See, the king is calling and is about to give an order; I did not influence him, did I? Listen.

The king was indeed calling his secretaries.

— M. d'Artagnan? said he.

— Here I am, Sire.

— Give twenty of your musketeers to M. de Saint-Aignan, so that they may guard M. Fouquet.

D'Artagnan and Colbert exchanged a glance.

— And from Angers, continued the king, the prisoner will be taken to the Bastille of Paris.

— You were right, said the musketeer to the minister.

— Saint-Aignan, continued the king, you will have shot anyone who speaks low, on the way, to M. Fouquet.

— But I, Sire? said the duke.

— You, monsieur, will speak only in the presence of the musketeers.

The duke bowed and went out to have the order executed.

D'Artagnan was about to withdraw also; the king stopped him.

— Monsieur, said he, you will go at once to take possession of the island and fief of Belle-Île-en-Mer.

— Yes, Sire. Alone?

— You will take as many troops as are needed not to be held in check, if the place held out.

A murmur of adulatory disbelief was heard among the group of courtiers.

— That has been seen, said d'Artagnan.

— I saw it in my childhood, replied the king, and I do not wish to see it again. You have heard me? Go, monsieur, and do not return here but with the keys of the place.

Colbert approached d'Artagnan.

— A commission which, if you do it well, said he, smooths the way to your marshal's baton.

— Why do you say these words: *If you do it well?*

— Because it is difficult.

— Ah! in what way?

— You have friends in Belle-Île, M. d'Artagnan, and it is not easy, for men like you, to march over the body of a friend to get ahead.

D'Artagnan lowered his head, while Colbert returned to the king.

A quarter of an hour later, the captain received the written order to blow up Belle-Île in case of resistance, and the right of high and low justice over all inhabitants or *refugees*, with injunction not to let a single one escape.

'Colbert was right,' thought d'Artagnan; 'my baton of Marshal of France would cost the lives of my two friends. Only, one forgets that my friends are no more foolish than birds, and that they do not wait for the fowler's hand to spread their wings. That hand, I shall show it to them so well, that they will have time to see it. Poor Porthos! poor Aramis! No, my fortune shall not cost you a single feather of the wing.'

Having thus concluded, d'Artagnan assembled the royal army, had it embark at Paimbœuf, and set sail without losing a moment.

Chapter CCXLVIII — Belle-Île-en-Mer

At the end of the mole, on the walk beaten by the furious sea at the evening tide, two men, arm in arm, were talking in an animated and expansive tone, with no human being able to hear their words, which were carried off one by one by the gusts of wind, along with the white foam torn from the crests of the waves.

The sun had just set in the great expanse of the ocean, reddened like a gigantic crucible.

At times, one of the men turned toward the east, questioning the sea with a dark uneasiness.

The other, questioning his companion's features, seemed to seek to guess from his looks. Then, both silent, both stirring gloomy thoughts, they resumed their walk.

These two men, everyone has already recognized them, were our outcasts, Porthos and Aramis, refugees at Belle-Île since the ruin of their hopes, since the collapse of M. d'Herblay's vast plan.

— You may say what you will, my dear Aramis, repeated Porthos, vigorously inhaling the salt air with which he filled his powerful chest; you may say what you will, Aramis, it is no ordinary thing, this disappearance, for two days now, of all the fishing boats that had gone out. There is no storm at sea. The weather has remained constantly calm, not the slightest tempest, and, had we weathered a storm, all our skiffs would not have sunk. I repeat to you, it is strange, and this complete disappearance astonishes me, I tell you.

— It is true, murmured Aramis; you are right, friend Porthos. It is true, there is something strange about that.

— And, moreover, added Porthos, to whom the bishop of Vannes's assent seemed to broaden his ideas, moreover, have you noticed that, if the skiffs had perished, not a single wreck has come back to shore?

— I noticed it as you did.

— Do you further notice that the two only boats that remained in all the island and that I sent in search of the others...

Aramis here interrupted his companion with a cry and so abrupt a movement, that Porthos stopped as if stupefied.

— What are you saying there, Porthos! What! you sent the two boats...

— In search of the others; but yes, answered Porthos quite simply.

— Unhappy man! what have you done? Then we are lost! cried the bishop.

— Lost!... What's that? said Porthos, bewildered. Why lost, Aramis? why are we lost?

Aramis bit his lips.

— Nothing, nothing. Pardon, I meant to say...

— What?

— That, if we wished, if we took a fancy to take a walk at sea, we could not.

— Pooh! Is that what troubles you? A fine pleasure, faith! As for me, I do not regret it. What I regret is certainly not the more or less of amusement one may have at Belle-Île; what I regret, Aramis, is Pierrefonds, is Bracieux, is the Vallon, is my beautiful France: here, one is not in France, my dear friend; one is I know not where. Oh! I may tell you in all the sincerity of my soul, and your affection will excuse my frankness; but I declare to you that I am not happy at Belle-Île; no, truly, I am not happy, I!

Aramis sighed softly.

— Dear friend, answered he, that is why it is very sad that you sent the two boats that remained to us in search of the boats missing for two days. Had you not dispatched them to make that discovery, we should have left.

— Left! And the standing orders, Aramis?

— What standing orders?

— Bless me! the standing orders you kept repeating to me always and on every occasion: that we were to guard Belle-Île against the usurper; you know well.

— It is true, murmured Aramis again.

— You see then, my dear, that we cannot leave, and that sending the boats in search of the others prejudices us in nothing.

Aramis fell silent, and his vague gaze, luminous as that of a seagull, hovered long upon the sea, questioning space and seeking to pierce the horizon.

— With all that, Aramis, continued Porthos, who held to his idea, and held to it all the more because the bishop had found it exact, with all that, you give me no explanation of what may have happened to the unhappy boats. I am assailed by cries and complaints wherever I pass; the children weep to see the women in despair, as if I could bring back the absent fathers, the husbands. What do you suppose, my friend, and what am I to answer them?

— Let us suppose everything, my good Porthos, and say nothing.

This reply did not satisfy Porthos. He turned away grumbling a few words of ill humor.

Aramis stopped the valiant soldier.

— Do you remember, said he with melancholy, pressing the two hands of the giant in his own with an affectionate cordiality; do you remember, friend, that in the fair days of our youth, when we were strong and valiant, the two others and we, do you remember, Porthos, that, had we had a good mind to return to France, that sheet of salt water would not have stopped us?

— Oh! said Porthos, six leagues!

— Had you seen me mount a plank, would you have stayed on land, Porthos?

— No, by God no, Aramis! But today, what plank should we need, dear friend, for me above all!

And the lord of Bracieux, laughing with pride, cast a glance at his colossal roundness.

— Do you not, seriously, grow a little bored at Belle-Île too? and would you not prefer the comforts of your dwelling, of your episcopal palace at Vannes? Come, confess it.

— No, answered Aramis, without daring to look at Porthos.

— Let us stay, then, said his friend with a sigh which, despite the efforts he made to contain it, escaped noisily from his chest. Let us stay, let us stay! And yet, added he, and yet, if one were willing, but, there, very clearly, if one had a very fixed, very settled idea of returning to France, and one had no boats...

— Have you noticed another thing, my friend? it is that, since the disappearance of our boats, since these two days our fishermen have not returned, not a single skiff has landed on the shores of the island?

— Yes, certainly, you are right. I noticed it too, myself, and the observation was easy to make; for, before those two fatal days, we saw barks and shallops arrive here by the dozen.

— We must inquire, said Aramis suddenly with attention. Even if I had to have a raft built...

— But there are skiffs, dear friend; do you want me to board one?

— A skiff... a skiff!... Do you think of it, Porthos? A skiff to capsize? No, no, replied the bishop of Vannes, it is not our trade, we, to ride the waves. Let us wait, let us wait.

And Aramis continued to walk with all the signs of a steadily growing agitation.

Porthos, who wearied of following each of his friend's feverish movements, Porthos, who, in his calm and his faith, understood nothing of that sort of exasperation which betrayed itself by continual starts, Porthos stopped him.

— Let us sit on this rock, said he; seat yourself there, near me, Aramis, and, I beg you one last time, explain to me, in a way to make me understand it well, explain to me what we are doing here.

— Porthos... said Aramis embarrassed.

— I know that the false king wished to dethrone the true king. That is said, that is understood. Well?...

— Yes, said Aramis.

— I know that the false king planned to sell Belle-Île to the English. That too is understood.

— Yes.

— I know that, we others engineers and captains, we came to throw ourselves into Belle-Île, to take the direction of the works and the command of the ten companies raised, paid, and obeying M. Fouquet, or rather of the ten companies of his son-in-law. All that is still understood.

Aramis rose impatiently. One would have said a lion importuned by a gnat.

Porthos held him by the arm.

— But what I do not understand, what, despite all my efforts of mind, all my reflections, I cannot understand, and what I shall never understand, is that, instead of sending us troops, instead of sending us reinforcements in men, in munitions and in provisions, we are left without boats, Belle-Île is left, without arrivals, without succor; that instead of establishing with us a correspondence, whether by signals, or by written or verbal communications, all relations with us are intercepted. Come, Aramis, answer me, or rather, before answering me, do you want me to tell you what I thought? Do you want to know what my idea was, what fancy came to me?

The bishop raised his head.

— Well! Aramis, continued Porthos, I thought, I had the idea, I imagined that an event had taken place in France. I dreamed of M. Fouquet all night, I dreamed of dead fish, of broken eggs, of poorly built rooms, poorly furnished. Bad dreams, my dear d'Herblay! ill-omened those slumbers!

— Porthos, what is there yonder? interrupted Aramis, rising abruptly and showing his friend a black point on the crimson line of the water.

— A boat! said Porthos; yes, it is indeed a boat. Ah! we are going at last to have news.

— Two! cried the bishop, discovering another mast, two! three! four!

— Five! said Porthos in his turn. Six! Seven! Ah! my God! it is a fleet! my God! my God!

— Our boats returning probably, said Aramis, uneasy despite the assurance he affected.

— They are very large for fishing boats, observed Porthos; and then do you not notice, dear friend, that they come from the Loire?

— They come from the Loire... yes.

— And, see, everyone here has seen them as I have; here are the women and children beginning to mount the jetties.

An old fisherman passed.

— Are those our boats? Aramis asked him.

The old man questioned the depths of the horizon.

— No, my lord, answered he; those are royal service barges.

— Royal service boats! answered Aramis, starting. How do you recognize that?

— By the flag.

— But, said Porthos, the boat is hardly visible; how the devil, my dear, can you distinguish the flag?

— I see that there is one, replied the old man; our own boats, and the merchant shallops, have none. Those sorts of pontoons that come there, sir, ordinarily serve for the transport of troops.

— Ah! said Aramis.

— Vivat! cried Porthos, they are sending us reinforcements, are they not, Aramis?

— It is probable.

— Unless the English are arriving.

— By the Loire? That would be misfortune indeed, Porthos; they would have passed through Paris then?

— You are right, they are reinforcements, decidedly, or provisions.

Aramis rested his head in his hands and did not answer.

Then, suddenly:

— Porthos, said he, sound the alarm.

— The alarm?... do you think of it?

— Yes, and let the gunners mount to their batteries; let the crews be at their pieces; let them watch above all the coastal batteries.

Porthos opened wide his eyes. He looked attentively at his friend, as if to convince himself that he was in his right mind.

— I am going there myself, my good Porthos, continued Aramis in his gentlest voice; I am going to have those orders executed, if you do not go, my dear friend.

— But I am going this instant! said Porthos, who went to have the order executed, all the while casting glances backward to see if the bishop of Vannes was not mistaken, and if, returning to sounder ideas, he would not recall him.

The alarm was sounded; the bugles, the drums rang out, the great bell of the belfry stirred.

At once the dikes, the moles filled with curious onlookers, with soldiers; the matches glowed between the hands of the artillerymen, placed behind the great cannons laid upon their stone carriages. When each was at his post, when the preparations for defense were made:

— Permit me, Aramis, to seek to understand, murmured Porthos timidly in the bishop's ear.

— Go, my dear, you will understand only too soon, murmured d'Herblay to this question of his lieutenant.

— The fleet that comes yonder, the fleet which, sails spread, bears down on the port of Belle-Île, is a royal fleet, is it not true?

— But, since there are two kings in France, Porthos, to which of the two kings does that fleet belong?

— Oh! you open my eyes, replied the giant, stopped by this argument.

And Porthos, to whom this reply of his friend had just opened his eyes, or rather thickened the bandage that covered his sight, betook himself as quickly as possible to the batteries to oversee his men and exhort each to do his duty.

Meanwhile Aramis, his eye ever fixed on the horizon, saw the ships approach. The crowd and the soldiers, mounted on all the summits and crags of the rocks, could distinguish the masts, then the lower sails, then at last the hulls of the barges, bearing at the peak the royal flag of France.

It was full night when one of those pontoons, whose presence had so greatly alarmed all the population of Belle-Île, came to anchor within cannon shot of the place.

Soon, despite the darkness, a sort of regulated agitation was seen to reign aboard that vessel, from the flank of which detached a skiff, whose three rowers, bent over the oars, took the direction of the port, and, in a few instants, came ashore at the foot of the fort.

The patron of this yawl leaped onto the mole. He held a letter in his hand, waved it in the air and seemed to ask to communicate with someone.

This man was soon recognized by several soldiers as one of the pilots of the Island. He was the patron of one of the two boats kept by Aramis, and which Porthos, in his anxiety over the fate of the fishermen missing for two days, had sent to discover the lost boats.

He asked to be led to M. d'Herblay.

Two soldiers, at a sergeant's sign, placed him between them and escorted him.

Aramis was on the quay. The envoy presented himself before the bishop of Vannes. The darkness was almost complete, despite the torches borne at some distance by the soldiers who followed Aramis on his round.

— Why, Jonathas, from whom do you come?

— My lord, from those who took me.

— Who took you?

— You know, my lord, that we had gone in search of our comrades?

— Yes. After?

— Well! my lord, at a small league's distance, we were captured by a royal privateer.

— Of which king? said Porthos.

Jonathas opened wide his eyes.

— Speak, continued the bishop.

— We were therefore captured, my lord, and reunited with those who had been taken yesterday morning.

— What is this mania of taking you all? interrupted Porthos.

— Sir, to prevent us from telling you, replied Jonathas.

Porthos in his turn did not understand.

— And they release you today? he asked.

— So that I may tell you, sir, that they had taken us.

'More and more muddled,' thought the honest Porthos.

Aramis, meanwhile, reflected.

— Come, said he, a royal fleet is then blocking the coasts?

— Yes, my lord.

— Who commands it?

— The captain of the king's musketeers.

— D'Artagnan?

— D'Artagnan! said Porthos.

— I believe that is the name.

— And it is he who gave you this letter?

— Yes, my lord.

— Bring the torches nearer.

— It is his writing, said Porthos. Aramis read quickly the following lines:

'Order of the king to take Belle-Île; 'Order to put the garrison to the sword if it resists; 'Order to take prisoner all the men of the garrison;

'Signed: D'Artagnan, who, the day before yesterday, arrested M. Fouquet to send him to the Bastille.'

Aramis grew pale and crumpled the paper in his hands.

— What is it? asked Porthos.

— Nothing, my friend! nothing! Tell me, Jonathas?

— My lord!

— Did you speak to M. d'Artagnan?

— Yes, my lord.

— What did he say to you?

— That, for fuller information, he would speak with My Lord.

— Where?

— Aboard his ship.

— Aboard his ship?

Porthos repeated:

— Aboard his ship?

— M. the musketeer, continued Jonathas, told me to take you both, you and the engineer sir, in my skiff, and to bring you to him.

— Let us go, said Porthos. Dear d'Artagnan!

Aramis stopped him.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”