Part 19

— Gentlemen, said Athos, you do not know who I am, but what I must tell you is that I recognize here as my equal only General Monck. Where is he? Let me be brought before him, and if he, for his part, has any question to put to me, I shall answer him, and to his satisfaction, I hope. I repeat, gentlemen, where is the general?

— Egad! you know better than we do where he is, said the lieutenant.

— I?

— Certainly, you.

— Monsieur, said Athos, I do not understand you.

— You will understand me, and you yourself first, speak lower, monsieur. What did the general say to you yesterday?

Athos smiled disdainfully.

— It is not a matter of smiling, cried one of the colonels with heat, it is a matter of answering.

— And I, gentlemen, declare to you that I shall not answer you unless I am in the presence of the general.

— But, repeated the same colonel who had already spoken, you know well that you are asking an impossible thing.

— That is already the second time this strange reply is made to the wish I express, resumed Athos. Is the general absent?

Athos's question was put in such good faith, and the gentleman wore so naively surprised an air, that the three officers exchanged a glance. The lieutenant took the word by a kind of tacit convention of the two other officers.

— Monsieur, said he, the general left you yesterday at the bounds of the monastery?

— Yes, monsieur.

— And you went...?

— It is not for me to answer you, it is for those who accompanied me. They are your soldiers, question them.

— But if it pleases us to question you?

— Then it will please me to answer you, monsieur, that I am accountable to no one here, that I know here only the general, and that it is to him alone that I shall answer.

— Be it so, monsieur, but since we are the masters, we constitute ourselves a court-martial, and when you are before judges, you will have to answer them.

Athos's face expressed only astonishment and disdain, instead of the terror which at this threat the officers counted on reading there.

— Scottish or English judges, for me, a subject of the King of France; for me, placed under the safeguard of British honor! You are mad, gentlemen! said Athos, shrugging his shoulders.

The officers looked at one another.

— Then, monsieur, they said, you pretend not to know where the general is?

— To that, I have already answered you, monsieur.

— Yes; but you have already answered something incredible.

— It is true nevertheless, gentlemen. Men of my condition do not lie as a rule. I am a gentleman, have I not told you, and when I wear at my side the sword which, by an excess of delicacy, I left yesterday upon this table where it still lies today, no one, believe it well, says to me things I do not wish to hear. Today I am disarmed; if you claim to be my judges, judge me; if you are but my executioners, kill me.

— But, monsieur?... asked the lieutenant in a more courteous voice, struck by the greatness and coolness of Athos.

— Monsieur, I had come to speak confidentially with your general of matters of importance. It is no ordinary reception that he gave me. The reports of your soldiers can convince you of it. Therefore, if he received me thus, the general knew what were my titles to esteem. Now you do not suppose, I presume, that I shall reveal to you my secrets, and still less his.

— But finally, those barrels, what did they contain?

— Have you not put that question to your soldiers? What did they answer you?

— That they contained powder and lead.

— From whom did they have that information? They must have told you.

— From the general; but we are not dupes.

— Take care, monsieur, it is no longer to me that you give the lie, it is to your chief.

The officers looked at one another again. Athos continued:

— Before your soldiers, the general told me to wait eight days; that in eight days he would give me the answer he had to make me. Did I flee? No, I wait.

— He told you to wait eight days! cried the lieutenant.

— He told me so well, monsieur, that I have a sloop at anchor at the mouth of the river, and that I could perfectly have joined it yesterday and embarked. Now, if I have remained, it is solely to conform to the wishes of the general, His Honor having recommended to me not to depart without a last audience which he himself fixed at eight days. I repeat it to you then, I wait.

The lieutenant turned toward the two other officers, and in a low voice:

— If this gentleman speaks true, there would yet be hope, said he. The general must have had to accomplish some negotiations so secret that he would have thought it imprudent to warn, even us. Then, the time limited for his absence would be eight days.

Then, turning toward Athos:

— Monsieur, said he, your declaration is of the gravest importance; will you repeat it under the seal of an oath?

— Monsieur, replied Athos, I have always lived in a world where my simple word has been regarded as the most sacred of oaths.

— This time however, monsieur, the circumstance is graver than any of those in which you have found yourself. It is a matter of the safety of a whole army. Think well on it, the general has disappeared, we are searching for him. Is the disappearance natural? Has a crime been committed? Ought we to push our investigations to the extremity? Ought we to wait with patience? At this moment, monsieur, all depends on the word you are about to utter.

— Questioned thus, monsieur, I hesitate no longer, said Athos.

"Yes, I had come to talk confidentially with General Monck and ask him a reply upon certain interests; yes, the general, unable no doubt to decide before the battle that is expected, begged me to remain eight days yet in this house that I inhabit, promising me that in eight days I should see him again. Yes, all that is true, and I swear it upon God, who is the absolute master of my life and of yours."

Athos pronounced these words with such greatness and solemnity that the three officers were almost convinced.

However, one of the colonels tried a last attempt:

— Monsieur, said he, although we are now persuaded of the truth of what you say, there is yet in all this a strange mystery. The general is too prudent a man to have thus abandoned his army on the eve of a battle, without at least having given one of us a warning. As for me, I cannot believe, I confess, that a strange event is not the cause of this disappearance. Yesterday, foreign fishermen came to sell their fish here; they were lodged yonder among the Scots, that is to say, on the road the general followed to go to the abbey with Monsieur and to return from it. It is one of those fishermen who accompanied the general with a lantern. And this morning, boat and fishermen had disappeared, carried off in the night by the tide.

— I, said the lieutenant, see nothing there but what is perfectly natural; for, after all, those people were not prisoners.

— No; but, I repeat, it is one of them who lighted the general and Monsieur in the vault of the abbey, and Digby assured us that the general had had ill suspicions of those people. Now, who tells us that those fishermen were not in intelligence with Monsieur, and that, the deed done, Monsieur, who is brave assuredly, did not remain to reassure us by his presence and prevent our researches in the right track?

This speech made an impression on the two other officers.

— Monsieur, said Athos, permit me to tell you that your reasoning, very specious in appearance, lacks however solidity as concerns me. I remained, you say, to divert suspicion. Well! on the contrary, suspicion comes to me as to you and I say to you: It is impossible, gentlemen, that the general, on the eve of a battle, departed without saying anything to anyone. Yes, there is a strange event in all this; yes, instead of remaining idle and waiting, you must deploy all the vigilance, all the activity possible. I am your prisoner, gentlemen, upon parole or otherwise. My honor is interested in knowing what has become of General Monck, to such a point that if you said to me: 'Depart!' I would say: 'No, I remain.' And if you asked my advice, I would add: 'Yes, the general is victim of some conspiracy, for if he were to leave the camp, he would have told me. Search then, ransack then, ransack the earth, ransack the sea; the general is not gone, or at least is not gone of his own will.'

The lieutenant made a sign to the other officers.

— No, monsieur, said he, no; in your turn you go too far. The general has nothing to suffer from events, and no doubt, on the contrary, he has directed them. What Monck does at this hour, he has often done. We are wrong then to alarm ourselves; his absence will be of short duration, no doubt; also let us take good care, by a pusillanimity of which the general would make us guilty, of divulging his absence, which might demoralize the army. The general gives an immense proof of his confidence in us, let us show ourselves worthy of it. Gentlemen, let the most profound silence cover all this with an impenetrable veil; we are going to keep Monsieur, not through distrust of him relative to the crime, but to assure more efficaciously the secret of the general's absence by concentrating it among us; also, until further orders, Monsieur shall inhabit the headquarters.

— Gentlemen, said Athos, you forget that this night the general confided to me a deposit over which I must watch. Give me what guard you please, chain me if you please, but leave me the house I inhabit for prison. The general, at his return, would reproach you, I swear it to you, upon my faith as a gentleman, for having displeased him herein.

The officers consulted a moment; then after this consultation:

— Be it so, monsieur, said the lieutenant; return to your house.

Then they gave Athos a guard of fifty men who shut him up in his house, without losing sight of him for a single instant. The secret remained kept, but the hours, but the days flowed by without the general returning and without anyone receiving news of him.

Chapter XXVIII — The Contraband Goods

Two days after the events we have just related, and while in his camp they awaited at every instant General Monck, who did not return there, a small Dutch felucca, manned by ten men, came to cast anchor on the coast of Scheveningen, at about a cannon-shot from land. It was close night, the darkness was great, the sea was rising in the darkness: it was an excellent hour to land passengers and merchandise.

The roadstead of Scheveningen forms a vast crescent; it is shallow, and above all unsafe, so that one sees there stationed only great Flemish hulks, or those Dutch boats that the fishermen draw up on the sand upon rollers, as the Ancients did, according to Virgil.

When the flood swells, rises and pushes toward the land, it is not very prudent to bring the craft too near the coast, for if the wind is fresh, the prows ground, and the sand of this coast is spongy; it takes easily but does not give back likewise. It is no doubt for this reason that the longboat detached itself from the vessel as soon as the vessel had cast anchor, and came with eight of its sailors, among whom one distinguished an object of oblong form, a sort of great basket or bale. The shore was deserted: the few fishermen inhabiting the dune were abed. The only sentinel who guarded the coast (a coast very ill guarded, seeing that a landing of a great ship was impossible), without having been able quite to follow the example of the fishermen who had gone to bed, had imitated them in this point, that he slept at the bottom of his sentry-box as profoundly as they slept in their beds. The only noise one heard was therefore the whistling of the night breeze running through the heather of the dune. But they were distrustful folk no doubt, those who approached, for this real silence and this apparent solitude did not reassure them; so their longboat, scarcely visible as a dark point upon the ocean, glided without noise, avoiding to row for fear of being heard, and came to touch land as close as might be.

Scarcely had they felt bottom than a single man leaped from the skiff after having given a brief order with that voice which indicates the habit of command. In consequence of this order, several muskets shone immediately in the faint lights of the sea, that mirror of the sky, and the oblong bale of which we have already spoken, which enclosed no doubt some object of contraband, was transported ashore with infinite precautions. At once, the man who had landed first ran diagonally toward the village of Scheveningen, directing himself toward the most advanced point of the wood. There he sought that house which once already we have caught sight of through the trees, and which we have designated as the provisional dwelling, a very modest dwelling, of him whom they called by courtesy the King of England.

All slept there as everywhere; only, a big dog, of the race of those which the fishermen of Scheveningen harness to little carts to carry their fish to The Hague, began to utter formidable barks as soon as the stranger made his step heard before the windows. But this watchfulness, instead of frightening the new arrival, seemed on the contrary to cause him great joy, for his voice perhaps would have been insufficient to wake the people of the house, whereas with an auxiliary of that importance, his voice became almost useless. The stranger waited then until the sonorous and repeated barkings had, in all probability, produced their effect, and then he hazarded a call. At his voice the mastiff began to roar with such violence, that soon within another voice made itself heard, appeasing that of the dog. Then, when the dog was appeased:

— What do you want? asked this voice at once feeble, broken and polite.

— I ask for His Majesty King Charles II, said the stranger.

— What do you want with him?

— I want to speak with him.

— Who are you?

— Ah! egad! you ask me too much, I do not like to dialogue through doors.

— Only say your name.

— I like no better to decline my name in the open air; besides, be easy, I shall not eat your dog, and I pray God that he be likewise reserved toward me.

— You bring news perhaps, do you not, monsieur? resumed the voice, patient and inquisitive like that of an old man.

— I answer for it that I bring news, and such as are not expected, besides! Open then, if you please, eh?

— Monsieur, pursued the old man, upon your soul and conscience, do you believe your news worth the trouble of waking the king?

— For the love of God! my dear monsieur, draw your bolts, you will not be sorry, I swear to you, for the trouble you will have taken. I am worth my weight in gold, my word of honor!

— Monsieur, I cannot however open until you tell me your name.

— It must be then?

— It is my master's order, monsieur.

— Well! my name, here it is... but I warn you of it, my name will teach you absolutely nothing.

— No matter, say it all the same.

— Well! I am the Chevalier d'Artagnan.

The voice uttered a cry.

— Ah! my God! said the old man from the other side of the door, Monsieur d'Artagnan! what happiness! I was saying to myself that I knew that voice.

— Well! said d'Artagnan, my voice is known here! That is flattering.

— Oh! yes, it is known, said the old man, drawing the bolts, and here is the proof.

And at these words he introduced d'Artagnan, who, by the light of the lantern he carried in his hand, recognized his obstinate interlocutor.

— Ah! egad! cried he, it is Parry! I should have suspected it.

— Parry, yes, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, it is I. What joy to see you again!

— You said well: what joy! said d'Artagnan, pressing the old man's hands. Come! you are going to warn the king, are you not?

— But the king sleeps, my dear monsieur.

— Egad! wake him, and he will not scold you for having disturbed him, that I tell you.

— You come from the count, do you not?

— From what count?

— From the Count de La Fère.

— From Athos? Faith, no; I come on my own part. Come, quick, Parry, the king! I must have the king!

Parry did not think he ought to resist longer; he had known d'Artagnan of old; he knew that, though a Gascon, his words never promised more than they could keep. He crossed a court and a little garden, appeased the dog, who seriously wished to taste of the musketeer, and went to knock at the shutter of a chamber forming the ground floor of a little pavilion. At once a little dog inhabiting this chamber answered the big dog inhabiting the court.

"Poor king! said d'Artagnan to himself, there are his bodyguards; it is true that he is none the worse guarded for that."

— What is wanted? asked the king from the bottom of the chamber.

— Sire, it is the Chevalier d'Artagnan who brings news.

Immediately a noise was heard in this chamber; a door opened and a great light flooded the corridor and the garden. The king was working by the light of a lamp. Papers were strewn upon his desk, and he had begun the draft of a letter which, by its numerous erasures, betrayed the trouble he had had in writing it.

— Enter, Monsieur le Chevalier, said he, turning round.

Then, perceiving the fisherman:

— What were you saying then, Parry, and where is Monsieur le Chevalier d'Artagnan? asked Charles.

— He is before you, Sire, said d'Artagnan.

— In this dress?

— Yes. Look at me, Sire; do you not recognize me for having seen me at Blois in the antechambers of King Louis XIV?

— Yes indeed, monsieur, and I remember even that I had much to commend of you.

D'Artagnan bowed.

— It was a duty for me to conduct myself as I did, as soon as I knew I had to do with Your Majesty.

— You bring me news, you say?

— Yes, Sire.

— From the King of France, no doubt?

— Faith, no, Sire, replied d'Artagnan. Your Majesty must have seen yonder that the King of France occupied himself only with His Majesty himself.

Charles raised his eyes to heaven.

— No, continued d'Artagnan, no, Sire. I bring, myself, news wholly composed of personal facts. However, I dare hope that Your Majesty will listen to them, facts and news, with some favor.

— Speak, monsieur.

— If I mistake not, Sire, Your Majesty spoke much at Blois of the embarrassment wherein are your affairs in England.

Charles reddened.

— Monsieur, said he, it was to the King of France alone that I told it.

— Oh! Your Majesty is mistaken, said the musketeer coldly; I know how to speak to kings in misfortune; it is even only when they are in misfortune that they speak to me; once happy, they look at me no more. I have then for Your Majesty, not only the greatest respect, but yet the most absolute devotion, and that, believe it well, in me, Sire, signifies something. Now, hearing Your Majesty complain of destiny, I found that you were noble, generous and bore misfortune well.

— In truth, said Charles astonished, I know not what I should prefer, of your liberties or of your respects.

— You will choose presently, Sire, said d'Artagnan. Therefore Your Majesty complained to his brother Louis XIV of the difficulty he felt in re-entering England and remounting his throne without men and without money.

Charles let escape a movement of impatience.

— And the principal obstacle he met upon his path, continued d'Artagnan, was a certain general commanding the armies of the Parliament, and who played yonder the role of another Cromwell. Did not Your Majesty say that?

— Yes; but I repeat to you, monsieur, those words were for the sole ears of the king.

— And you are going to see, Sire, that it is very happy they fell into those of his lieutenant of musketeers. This man so embarrassing for Your Majesty, it was General Monck, I believe; have I well heard his name, Sire?

— Yes, monsieur; but, again, what is the use of these questions?

— Oh! I know it well, Sire, etiquette wills not that one interrogate kings. I hope that presently Your Majesty will pardon me this want of etiquette. Your Majesty added that if however he could see him, confer with him, hold him face to face, he would triumph, whether by force or by persuasion, over this obstacle, the only serious, the only insurmountable, the only real one he met upon his path.

— All that is true, monsieur; my destiny, my future, my obscurity or my glory depend on this man; but what do you mean to infer from it?

— A single thing: that if this General Monck is embarrassing to the point you say, it would be expedient to rid Your Majesty of him or to make an ally of him.

— Monsieur, a king who has neither army nor money, since you listened to my conversation with my brother, has nothing to do against a man like Monck.

— Yes, Sire, that was your opinion, I know it well, but, happily for you, it was not mine.

— What do you mean?

— That without army and without a million I have done, myself, what Your Majesty believed could be done only with an army and a million.

— How! What do you say? What have you done?

— What have I done? Well! Sire, I went to take yonder that man so embarrassing for Your Majesty.

— In England?

— Precisely, Sire.

— You went to take Monck in England?

— Should I have done ill by chance?

— In truth, you are mad, monsieur!

— Not in the least, Sire.

— You have taken Monck?

— Yes, Sire.

— Where?

— In the midst of his camp.

The king trembled with impatience and shrugged his shoulders.

— And having taken him on the causeway of Newcastle, said d'Artagnan simply, I bring him to Your Majesty.

— You bring him to me! cried the king, almost indignant at what he regarded as a mystification.

— Yes, Sire, answered d'Artagnan in the same tone, I bring him to you; he is yonder, in a great case pierced with holes so that he may breathe.

— My God!

— Oh! be easy, Sire, the greatest care has been taken of him. He arrives then in good condition and perfectly packed. Does it please Your Majesty to see him, to talk with him or to have him thrown into the water?

— Oh! my God! repeated Charles, oh! my God! monsieur, do you speak true? Do you not insult me by some unworthy jest? You would have accomplished this unheard-of feat of audacity and genius! Impossible!

— Does Your Majesty permit me to open the window? said d'Artagnan, opening it.

The king had not even time to say yes. D'Artagnan gave a shrill and prolonged whistle which he repeated three times in the silence of the night.

— There! said he, they are going to bring him to Your Majesty.

Chapter XXIX — Wherein d'Artagnan Begins to Fear He Has Placed His Money and That of Planchet in a Lost Cause

“Stories of the world, in your language.”