Part 17

— It is all the more gracious of you to accept with such frankness, since my cooks are few and unskilled, and my provisioners returned this evening empty-handed; so that, were it not for a fisherman of your nation who lost his way into my camp, General Monck would have gone to bed without supper tonight. I have fresh fish, then, as the seller told me.

— My lord, it is chiefly to have the honor of spending a few more moments with you.

After this exchange of courtesies, during which Monck had lost none of his wariness, supper, or what was to stand for it, had been served on a table of pine wood. Monck signed to the Count de La Fère to sit at this table and took his place opposite him. A single dish, covered with boiled fish, offered to the two illustrious guests, promised more to hungry stomachs than to fastidious palates.

While supping, that is to say eating this fish washed down with bad ale, Monck had Athos relate the latest events of the Fronde, the reconciliation of M. de Condé with the king, the probable marriage of His Majesty with the Infanta Maria Theresa; but he avoided, as Athos himself avoided, any allusion to the political interests which at that moment united or rather disunited England, France, and Holland. Monck, in this conversation, convinced himself of one thing, which he had already noticed from the first words exchanged, that he had to do with a man of high distinction.

Such a man could not be an assassin, and it repelled Monck to believe him a spy; but there was enough finesse and firmness at once in Athos for Monck to believe he recognized in him a conspirator. When they had left the table:

— You believe then in your treasure, sir? asked Monck.

— Yes, my lord.

— Seriously?

— Very seriously.

— And you believe you will find the place where it was buried?

— At first inspection.

— Well! sir, said Monck, out of curiosity, I will accompany you. And all the more must I accompany you, since you would meet the greatest difficulties in moving about the camp without me or one of my lieutenants.

— General, I would not suffer you to inconvenience yourself if I did not, in fact, need your company; but as I recognize that this company is to me not only honorable but necessary, I accept.

— Do you wish us to take men along? asked Monck of Athos.

— General, it is useless, I think, if you yourself see no necessity for it. Two men and a horse will suffice to transport the two barrels onto the felucca that brought me.

— But there will be digging, excavating, turning the earth, splitting stones, and you do not count on doing this work yourself, do you?

— General, there is no need to dig or excavate. The treasure is buried in the vault of the convent burials; under a stone, in which is set a large iron ring, opens a small flight of four steps. The two barrels are there, end to end, covered with a coating of plaster in the shape of a coffin. There is besides an inscription which must serve me to recognize the stone; and as I do not wish, in a matter of delicacy and trust, to keep secrets from Your Honor, here is that inscription:

_Hic jacet venerabilis Petrus Guillelmus Scott, Canon._ _ _ _Honorab. Conventus Novi Castelli. Obiit quarta et decima die. Feb. ann. Dom. MCCVIII. Requiescat in pace._

Monck lost not a word. He wondered, either at the marvelous duplicity of this man and the superior way he played his role, or at the loyal good faith with which he presented his request, in a situation where a million was ventured against a stab of the dagger, amid an army that would have regarded the theft as restitution.

— Very well, said he, I accompany you, and the adventure seems to me so marvelous that I wish to carry the torch myself. And saying these words, he girded on a short sword, placed a pistol at his belt, and, in this movement, which half-opened his doublet, disclosed the fine links of a coat of mail meant to shield him from the first stab of an assassin's dagger. After which, he passed a Scottish _dirk_ into his left hand; then, turning toward Athos:

— Are you ready, sir? said he. I am.

Athos, contrary to what Monck had just done, detached his dagger, which he laid upon the table, unbuckled the belt of his sword, which he laid near his dagger, and without affectation, opening the clasps of his doublet as if to seek his handkerchief, showed beneath his fine batiste shirt his bare chest, without offensive or defensive arms.

"Truly, this is a singular man," Monck said to himself, "he is without any weapon; he must then have an ambush placed yonder?"

— General, said Athos, as if he had divined Monck's thought, you wish us to be alone, that is very well; but a great captain should never expose himself recklessly: it is night, the passage of the marsh may offer dangers, have yourself accompanied.

— You are right, said Monck.

And calling:

— Digby!

The aide-de-camp appeared.

— Fifty men with sword and musket, said he.

And he looked at Athos.

— That is very few, said Athos, if there is danger; that is too many, if there is none.

— I will go alone, said Monck. Digby, I need no one. Come, sir.

Chapter XXV — The Marsh

Athos and Monck crossed, going from the camp toward the Tweed, that part of the ground which Digby had had the fishermen cross coming from the Tweed to the camp. The aspect of this place, the aspect of the changes men had brought to it, was of a nature to produce the greatest effect on a delicate and lively imagination such as Athos's. Athos looked only at those desolate places; Monck looked only at Athos, Athos who, his eyes now toward the sky, now toward the earth, sought, thought, sighed.

Digby, whom the general's last order, and above all the accent with which it had been given, had at first somewhat moved, Digby followed the nocturnal walkers for some twenty paces; but the general having turned round, as if astonished that his orders were not executed, the aide-de-camp understood that he was indiscreet and re-entered his tent. He supposed that the general wished to make incognito in his camp one of those reviews of vigilance which every experienced captain never fails to make on the eve of a decisive engagement; he explained in this case the presence of Athos, as an inferior explains all that is mysterious on the part of the chief; Athos might be, and even in Digby's eyes ought to be, a spy whose information was about to enlighten the general. At the end of about ten minutes' march among the tents and posts, more closely set in the environs of the headquarters, Monck engaged upon a small causeway which diverged into three branches. The left led to the river, the middle to the abbey of Newcastle on the marsh, the right crossed the first lines of Monck's camp, that is to say the lines nearest to Lambert's army.

Beyond the river was an advanced post belonging to Monck's army and which watched the enemy; it was composed of a hundred and fifty Scots. They had crossed the Tweed swimming, giving the alarm; but as there was no bridge at this spot, and Lambert's soldiers were not as quick to take to the water as Monck's, the latter did not appear to have great anxieties on this side.

This side of the river, at about five hundred paces from the old abbey, the fishermen had their dwelling in the midst of a swarming anthill of small tents raised by the soldiers of the neighboring clans, who had with them their wives and children.

All this medley in the rays of the moon offered a striking view; the half-light ennobled each detail, and the light, that flatterer which attaches only to the polished side of things, solicited on each rusty musket the still intact point, on every rag of linen, the whitest and least soiled part.

Monck then arrived with Athos, crossing this dark landscape lit by a double glow, the silvery glow of the moon, the reddish glow of the dying fires at the crossroads of the three causeways. There he stopped, and addressing his companion:

— Sir, said he, will you recognize your way?

— General, if I am not mistaken, the middle causeway leads straight to the abbey.

— That is it exactly; but we would need light to guide us in the underground.

Monck turned round.

— Ah! Digby has followed us, it appears, said he; so much the better, he will procure us what we need.

— Yes, general, there is indeed yonder a man who for some time has been walking behind us.

— Digby! cried Monck, Digby! come, I pray you.

But, instead of obeying, the shadow made a movement of surprise, and, receding instead of advancing, bent and disappeared along the left jetty, directing itself toward the lodging that had been given to the fishermen.

— It appears it was not Digby, said Monck.

Both had followed the shadow that had vanished; but it is not a rare enough thing for a man to be roaming at eleven o'clock at night in a camp where ten to twelve thousand men are asleep, for Athos and Monck to be troubled by this disappearance.

— Meanwhile, as we need a lantern, a lamp, some torch to see where to set our feet, let us seek this light, said Monck.

— General, the first soldier we meet will light us.

— No, said Monck, to see if there might not be some connivance between the Count de La Fère and the fishermen; no, I would prefer one of those French sailors who came this evening to sell me fish. They leave tomorrow, and the secret will be better kept by them. Whereas if the rumor spreads in the Scottish army that treasures are found in the abbey of Newcastle, my highlanders will believe there is a million under every slab, and they will leave not a stone upon a stone in the building.

— Do as you wish, general, replied Athos in a tone of voice so natural, that it was evident that, soldier or fisherman, all was equal to him and that he felt no preference.

Monck approached the causeway, behind which he who the general had taken for Digby had disappeared, and met a patrol which, making the round of the tents, was directing itself toward headquarters; he was stopped with his companion, gave the password, and pursued his way. A soldier, awakened by the noise, raised himself in his plaid to see what was passing.

— Ask him, said Monck to Athos, where the fishermen are; if I put this question to him, he would recognize me.

Athos approached the soldier, who indicated the tent to him; immediately Monck and Athos directed themselves that way.

It seemed to the general that at the moment he approached a shadow, like that he had already seen, slipped into this tent; but on approaching, he recognized that he must have been mistaken, for everyone was sleeping pell-mell, and one saw only legs and arms interlaced. Athos, fearing lest he be suspected of connivance with one of his compatriots, remained outside the tent.

— Hola! said Monck in French, let someone wake here.

Two or three sleepers raised themselves.

— I need a man to light me, continued Monck. Everyone made a movement, some raising themselves, others getting up entirely. The chief had risen first.

— Your Honor may count on us, said he in a voice which made Athos start. Where is it a question of going?

— You shall see. A lantern! Come, quick!

— Yes, Your Honor. Does it please Your Honor that it be I who accompanies him?

— You or another, little matters to me, provided someone lights me.

"This is strange," thought Athos, "what a singular voice that fisherman has!"

— Fire, you there! cried the fisherman; come, make haste!

Then very low, addressing that one of his companions nearest him:

— Light, you, Menneville, said he, and hold yourself ready for all.

One of the fishermen struck fire from a stone, kindled a piece of tinder, and with a match lit a lantern. The light immediately invaded the tent.

— Are you ready, sir? said Monck to Athos, who turned away so as not to expose his face to the brightness.

— Yes, general, replied he.

— Ah! the French gentleman! said very low the chief of the fishermen. Pest! I had a good idea charging you with the errand, Menneville, he would only have to recognize me. Light, light!

This dialogue was pronounced at the back of the tent, and so low that Monck could not hear a syllable of it; he was moreover conversing with Athos. Menneville was preparing himself during this time, or rather receiving the orders of his chief.

— Well? said Monck.

— Here I am, my general, said the fisherman.

Monck, Athos and the fisherman left the tent.

"It was impossible," thought Athos. "What reverie had I then put into my brain!"

— Go ahead, follow the middle causeway and stretch your legs, said Monck to the fisherman.

They were not twenty paces off, when the same shadow which had appeared to re-enter the tent came out, crawled to the pilings, and, protected by this sort of parapet placed around the causeway, curiously observed the march of the general.

All three disappeared in the mist. They walked toward Newcastle, whose white stones were already visible like sepulchers. After a station of some seconds under the porch, they penetrated within. The door was broken with axe blows. A post of four men slept in safety in a recess, so certain were they that attack could not come from that side.

— These men will not hinder you? said Monck to Athos.

— On the contrary, sir, they will help roll the barrels, if Your Honor permits.

— You are right.

The post, asleep as it was, nevertheless awoke at the first steps of the two visitors amid the brambles and grasses which invaded the porch. Monck gave the password and penetrated into the interior of the convent, always preceded by his lantern. He walked last, surveilling even the least movement of Athos, his _dirk_ bare in his sleeve, and ready to plunge it into the loins of the gentleman at the first suspicious gesture he should see him make. But Athos with a firm and sure step crossed the halls and courts.

No more a door, no more a window in this building. The doors had been burned, some in place, and their coals were still notched by the action of the fire, which had gone out of itself, powerless no doubt to bite to the end those massive joints of oak assembled by iron nails. As for the windows, all the panes having been broken, one saw fleeing through the holes birds of darkness which the glow of the lantern startled. At the same time gigantic bats began to trace around the two intruders their vast silent circles, while on the light projected upon the high stone walls one saw their shadow tremble. This spectacle was reassuring for reasoners. Monck concluded that there was no man in the convent, since the wild beasts were still there and flew at his approach. After having crossed the rubble and torn away more than one ivy which had posed as guardian of the solitude, Athos arrived at the vaults situated beneath the great hall, but whose entrance opened into the chapel. There he stopped.

— We are there, general, said he.

— Here then is the slab?

— Yes.

— Indeed, I recognize the ring; but the ring is set flat.

— We would need a lever.

— That is easy to procure.

Looking around them, Athos and Monck perceived a small ash tree of three inches in diameter which had grown in an angle of the wall, mounting to a window which its branches had blinded.

— Have you a knife? said Monck to the fisherman.

— Yes, sir.

— Cut that tree, then.

The fisherman obeyed, but not without his cleaver being notched. When the ash was torn out, shaped into the form of a lever, the three men penetrated into the underground.

— Stop there, said Monck to the fisherman, designating a corner of the vault; we have powder to unearth, and your lantern would be dangerous.

The man drew back with a sort of terror and faithfully kept the post assigned him, while Monck and Athos turned behind a column at the foot of which, through a vent, penetrated a ray of moon reflected precisely by the stone which the Count de La Fère had come so far to seek.

— We are there, said Athos, showing the general the Latin inscription.

— Yes, said Monck.

Then, as he still wished to leave the Frenchman an evasive means:

— Do you not notice, continued he, that one has already penetrated into this vault, and that several statues have been broken?

— My lord, you have no doubt heard tell that the religious respect of your Scots likes to entrust to the statues of the dead the precious objects they may have possessed during their life. Thus the soldiers must have thought that under the pedestal of the statues which adorned most of these tombs a treasure was buried; they have therefore broken pedestal and statue. But the tomb of the venerable canon with whom we have to do is distinguished by no monument; it is simple, then it has been protected by the superstitious fear your Puritans have always had of sacrilege; not a piece of this tomb has been scaled.

— That is true, said Monck.

Athos seized the lever.

— Do you wish me to help you? said Monck.

— Thank you, my lord, I do not wish Your Honor to lay hand to a work whose probable consequences perhaps she would not wish to take the responsibility for if she knew them. Monck raised his head.

— What do you mean, sir? asked he.

— I mean... But this man...

— Wait, said Monck, I understand what you fear and am going to make a test.

Monck turned toward the fisherman, whose silhouette was visible lit by the lantern.

— _Come here, friend_, said he with the tone of command.

The fisherman did not stir.

— Very well, continued he, he does not know English. Speak to me then in English, if you please, sir.

— My lord, replied Athos, I have often seen men, in certain circumstances, have over themselves that power of not answering a question made in a language they understand. The fisherman is perhaps more learned than we believe. Deign to dismiss him, my lord, I pray you.

"Decidedly," thought Monck, "he desires to hold me alone in this vault. No matter, let us go to the end, a man is worth a man, and we are alone..."

— My friend, said Monck to the fisherman, remount that stair we have just descended, and watch that no one comes to trouble us.

The fisherman made a movement to obey.

— Leave your lantern, said Monck, it would betray your presence and might earn you some startled musket shot.

The fisherman appeared to appreciate the advice, set the lantern on the ground and disappeared under the vault of the stair.

Monck went to take the lantern, which he brought to the foot of the column.

— Ah there! said he, it is indeed money that is hidden in this tomb?

— Yes, my lord, and in five minutes you will doubt it no more.

At the same time, Athos struck a violent blow on the plaster, which cracked in presenting a fissure to the beak of the lever. Athos introduced the pincer into this fissure, and soon entire pieces of plaster gave way, lifting like rounded slabs. Then the Count de La Fère seized the stones and pushed them aside with upheavals of which one would not have believed capable hands as delicate as his.

— My lord, said Athos, here is indeed the masonry of which I spoke to Your Honor.

— Yes, but I do not yet see the barrels, said Monck.

— If I had a dagger, said Athos looking around him, you would see them soon, sir. Unfortunately, I forgot mine in Your Honor's tent.

— I would offer you mine, said Monck, but the blade seems to me too frail for the work to which you destine it.

Athos appeared to search around him for some object which might replace the weapon he desired. Monck lost not one of the movements of his hands, one of the expressions of his eyes.

— Why do you not ask for the fisherman's cleaver? said Monck. He had a cleaver.

— Ah! that is right, said Athos, since he used it to cut that tree.

And he advanced toward the stair.

— My friend, said he to the fisherman, throw me your cleaver, I pray you, I have need of it.

The noise of the weapon resounded on the steps.

— Take it, said Monck, it is a solid instrument, as I have seen, and of which a firm hand can make good use.

Athos appeared to accord to Monck's words only the natural and simple sense under which they ought to be heard and understood. He did not remark either, or at least did not appear to remark, that, when he returned to Monck, Monck drew aside placing his left hand on the butt of his pistol; with his right he already held his dirk. He then set to work, turning his back to Monck and offering him his life without possible defense. Then he struck for some seconds so adroitly and so cleanly on the intermediate plaster, that he separated it into two parts, and Monck then could see two barrels placed end to end and which their weight held immobile in their chalky envelope.

— My lord, said Athos, you see that my presentiments had not deceived me.

— Yes, sir, said Monck, and I have every reason to believe you are satisfied, are you not?

— Doubtless; the loss of this money would have been most sensitive to me; but I was certain that God, who protects the good cause, would not have permitted that one divert this gold which must make it triumph.

— You are, upon my honor, as mysterious in words as in actions, sir, said Monck. Just now, I understood you little, when you told me you did not wish to pour upon me the responsibility of the work we accomplish.

— I was right to say that, my lord.

— And here you are now speaking to me of the good cause. What do you mean by these words, the good cause? We are defending at this moment in England five or six causes, which does not prevent each from regarding his own not only as the good, but even as the best. Which is yours, sir? Speak boldly, that we may see if on this point, to which you seem to attach great importance, we are of the same opinion.

Athos fixed on Monck one of those deep looks which seem to carry to him who is thus looked at the challenge to hide a single one of his thoughts; then, raising his hat, he began in a solemn voice, while his interlocutor, a hand upon his face, left this long and nervous hand enclose his mustache and beard, at the same time that his vague and melancholy eye wandered in the depths of the underground.

Chapter XXVI — The Heart and the Mind

“Stories of the world, in your language.”