Part 22

— Yes, since the king possesses a million, he must have a treasurer. The King of France, who is without a penny, nevertheless has a superintendent of finances, M. Fouquet. It is true that, in exchange, M. Fouquet has a good number of millions, he.

— Oh! our million has been spent long since, said Athos in his turn, laughing.

— I understand; it went in satin, in jewels, in velvet, and in feathers of every kind and every color. All those princes and princesses had great need of tailors and linen-drapers... Eh! Athos, do you remember what we spent to equip ourselves, we others, at the time of the campaign of La Rochelle, and to make our entrance on horseback too? Two or three thousand livres, by my faith! but a king's doublet is more ample, and it takes a million to buy the cloth for it. At least, tell me, Athos, if you are not treasurer, you are well at court?

— Gentleman's faith, I know nothing of it, replied Athos simply.

— Come now! you know nothing of it?

— No, I have not seen the king since Dover.

— Then it is that he has forgotten you too, mortbleu! that is rich!

— His Majesty has had so many affairs!

— Oh! cried d'Artagnan with one of those witty grimaces such as none but he knew how to make, upon my honor, I am falling in love again with my_signor_ Giulio Mazarini. How now, dear Athos, the king has not seen you again?

— No.

— And you are not furious?

— I! why should I be? Do you fancy, dear d'Artagnan, that it was for the king I acted thus? I do not know that young man. I defended the father, who represented a sacred principle for me, and I let myself be drawn toward the son always by sympathy for that same principle. Besides, he was a worthy knight, a noble mortal creature, that father, you remember him.

— True, a brave and excellent man, who led a sorry life, but made a very fine death.

— Well! dear d'Artagnan, understand this: to that king, to that man of heart, to that friend of my thought, if I dare say so, I swore at the supreme hour to keep faithfully the secret of a deposit which was to be delivered to his son to aid him on occasion; that young man came to me; he told me of his misery, he knew not that I was aught else to him than a living memory of his father, I fulfilled toward Charles II what I had promised to Charles I, that is all. What matters it to me, then, whether he is grateful or not! It is to myself I did a service in delivering myself of that responsibility, and not to him.

— I have always said, replied d'Artagnan with a sigh, that disinterestedness was the finest thing in the world.

— Well! what then, dear friend, resumed Athos, are you not yourself in the same situation as I? If I have rightly understood your words, you let yourself be touched by the misfortune of that young man; that is on your part far finer than on mine, for I had a duty to fulfill, whereas you owed absolutely nothing to the son of the martyr. You had not, you, to pay him the price of that precious drop of blood he let fall upon my brow from the floor of his scaffold. What made you act, you, was the heart alone, the noble and good heart you have beneath your apparent skepticism, beneath your sarcastic irony; you pledged the fortune of a servant, your own perhaps, I suspect you of it, beneficent miser! and your sacrifice goes unrecognized.

«What matters! would you restore to Planchet his money? I understand that, my friend, for it is not fitting that a gentleman borrow from his inferior without returning him capital and interest. Well! I will sell La Fère if need be, or, if there is no need, some small farm. You shall pay Planchet, and there will remain, believe me, still enough grain for us two and for Raoul in my granaries. In this way, my friend, you will be beholden to none but yourself, and, if I know you well, it will be no small satisfaction to your mind to say to yourself: 'I made a king.' Am I right?

— Athos! Athos! murmured d'Artagnan dreamily, I have told you once, the day you preach, I will go to the sermon; the day you tell me there is a hell, mortbleu! I will fear the gridiron and the forks. You are better than I, or rather better than all the world, and I acknowledge but one merit in myself, that of not being jealous. Save that fault, God damn me! as the English say, I have all the others.

— I know no one who is worth d'Artagnan, replied Athos; but here we are gently arrived at the house I dwell in. Will you come in with me, my friend?

— Why! but it is the tavern of the Hart's Horn, it seems to me? said d'Artagnan.

— I confess to you, my friend, that I chose it a little for that reason. I love old acquaintances, I love to sit in that place where I let myself fall, all spent with fatigue, all overwhelmed with despair, when you came back on the evening of the 30th of January.

— After discovering the dwelling of the masked executioner? Yes, it was a terrible day!

— Come then, said Athos, interrupting him.

They entered the room formerly common to all. The tavern in general, and this common room in particular, had undergone great transformations; the old host of the musketeers, having become rich enough for an innkeeper, had shut up shop and made of the room we speak of a storehouse for colonial wares. As for the rest of the house, he let it furnished to strangers.

It was with an unspeakable emotion that d'Artagnan recognized all the furniture of that chamber on the first floor: the woodwork, the tapestries, and even that geographical map which Porthos studied so lovingly in his leisure.

— Eleven years ago! cried d'Artagnan. Mortbleu! it seems to me a century.

— And to me but a day, said Athos. Do you see the joy I feel, my friend, in thinking that I hold you there, that I press your hand, that I can throw far from me the sword and the dagger, touch without distrust that flask of sherry. Oh! that joy, in truth, I could not express it to you save if our two friends were there, at the two corners of this table, and Raoul, my well-beloved Raoul, on the threshold, looking at us with his great eyes so bright and so gentle!

— Yes, yes, said d'Artagnan, much moved, it is true. I approve especially that first part of your thought: it is sweet to smile where we so legitimately shivered, thinking that from one moment to another M. Mordaunt might appear upon the landing.

At this moment the door opened, and d'Artagnan, brave as he was, could not restrain a slight movement of dread.

Athos understood it and, smiling:

— It is our host, said he, who brings me some letter.

— Yes, milord, said the old man, I do indeed bring a letter for Your Honor.

— Thank you, said Athos, taking the letter without looking at it. Tell me, dear host, do you not recognize Monsieur?

The old man lifted his head and looked attentively at d'Artagnan.

— No, said he.

— It is, said Athos, one of those friends I spoke to you of, who lodged here with me eleven years ago.

— Oh! said the old man, so many strangers have lodged here!

— But we lodged here, we, on the 30th of January 1649, added Athos, thinking to stimulate by this explanation the lazy memory of the host.

— That may be, answered he with a smile, but it is so long ago!

He bowed and went out.

— Thank you, said d'Artagnan, perform exploits, accomplish revolutions, try to engrave your name in stone or on brass with strong swords; there is something more stubborn, harder, more forgetful than iron, brass and stone, it is the aged skull of the first lodging-house keeper enriched in his trade; he does not recognize me! Well! I, for my part, should truly have recognized him.

Athos, still smiling, broke the seal of the letter.

— Ah! said he, a letter from Parry.

— Oh! oh! said d'Artagnan, read, my friend, read, it contains no doubt something new.

Athos shook his head and read:

«Monsieur le Comte, The king felt much regret at not seeing you near him at his entry today; His Majesty charges me to acquaint you therewith and to recall himself to your memory. His Majesty will expect Your Honor this very evening, at St. James's Palace, between nine and eleven o'clock.

I am, with respect, Monsieur le Comte, Your Honor's,

«Very humble and very obedient servant, Parry.»

— You see, dear d'Artagnan, said Athos, one must not despair of the hearts of kings.

— Despair not of them, you are right, rejoined d'Artagnan.

— Oh! dear, very dear friend, resumed Athos, whose imperceptible bitterness had not escaped d'Artagnan, pardon. Should I have wounded, unwittingly, my best comrade?

— You are mad, Athos, and the proof is that I am going to conduct you to the castle, to the door, mind; that will give me a walk.

— You shall enter with me, my friend, I mean to His Majesty...

— Come now! replied d'Artagnan with a pride true and pure of all alloy, if there is anything worse than begging for oneself, it is having others beg for you.

— Come! let us go, my friend, the walk will be charming; I wish, as we pass, to show you the house of M. Monck, who took me in: a fine house, faith! To be general in England pays better than to be marshal in France, you know?

Athos let himself be led away, all sad at that gaiety which d'Artagnan affected.

All the town was in rejoicing; the two friends jostled at every moment against enthusiasts, who in their drunkenness bade them cry: 'Long live good King Charles!' D'Artagnan answered with a growl, and Athos with a smile. They thus arrived at Monck's house, before which, as we have said, one must indeed pass to go to St. James's Palace.

Athos and d'Artagnan spoke little on the road, for the very reason that they would no doubt have had too much to say had they spoken. Athos thought that, in speaking, he would seem to testify joy, and that that joy might wound d'Artagnan. The latter, on his side, feared, in speaking, to let peep an acrimony which would make him embarrassing to Athos.

It was a singular emulation of silence between contentment and ill-humor. D'Artagnan yielded first to that itching which he usually felt at the tip of his tongue.

— Do you remember, Athos, said he, the passage in d'Aubigné's Memoirs, in which that devoted servant, a Gascon like me, poor like me, and I was almost going to say brave like me, relates the stinginess of Henri IV? My father always told me, I remember, that M. d'Aubigné was a liar. But yet, observe how all the princes sprung from the great Henri are misers by breed!

— Come, come, d'Artagnan, said Athos, the kings of France avaricious? You are mad, my friend.

— Oh! you never admit the faults of others, you who are perfect. But, in reality, Henri IV was avaricious, Louis XIII, his son, was so too; we know something of that, do we not? Gaston pushed that vice to exaggeration, and made himself in that regard detested by all about him. Henriette, poor woman! did well to be avaricious, she who did not eat every day and was not warmed every year; and it is an example she gave to her son Charles the Second, grandson of the great Henri IV, avaricious like his mother and like his grandfather. Come, have I well deduced the genealogy of misers?

— D'Artagnan, my friend, cried Athos, you are very harsh toward that race of eagles called the Bourbons.

— And I forgot the finest!... the other grandson of the Béarnais, Louis the Fourteenth, my former master. But I hope he is avaricious, that one, who would not lend a million to his brother Charles! Good! I see you are growing angry. We are, happily, near my house, or rather near that of my friend M. Monck.

— Dear d'Artagnan, you do not anger me, you sadden me; it is cruel, indeed, to see a man of your merit beside the position his services should have acquired for him; it seems to me that your name, dear friend, is as radiant as the finest names of war and diplomacy. Tell me if the Luynes, if the Bellegardes and the Bassompierres deserved fortune and honors as we did; you are right, a hundred times right, my friend.

D'Artagnan sighed, and preceding his friend under the porch of the house Monck inhabited at the end of the City:

— Permit me, said he, to leave my purse at home; for if, in the crowd, those adroit knaves of London, so highly vaunted to us, even in Paris, should steal the rest of my poor crowns, I could no longer return to France. Now, content I left France and mad with joy I return thither, since all my former prejudices against England have come back to me, accompanied by many others.

Athos answered nothing.

— So then, dear friend, said d'Artagnan to him, one moment and I am with you. I know well you are in haste to go yonder to receive your rewards; but, believe me, I am no less in haste to enjoy your joy, though from afar... Wait for me.

And d'Artagnan was already crossing the vestibule, when a man, half valet, half soldier, who fulfilled at Monck's the functions of porter and guard, stopped our musketeer, saying to him in English:

— Pardon, milord d'Artagnan!

— Well! replied the other, what? Is the general dismissing me too?... All I lack now is to be turned out by him!

These words, said in French, touched not at all him to whom they were addressed, and who spoke only an English mixed with the roughest Scotch. But Athos was grieved at them, for d'Artagnan was beginning to look as if he were right.

The Englishman showed a letter to d'Artagnan.

— _From the general_, said he.

— Good, that is it; my dismissal, replied the Gascon. Must I read it, Athos?

— You must be mistaken, said Athos, or I no longer know honest men save you and me.

D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and broke the seal of the letter, while the Englishman, impassible, brought near him a great lantern whose light was to help him read.

— Well! what have you? said Athos, seeing the reader's countenance change.

— Here, read it yourself, said the musketeer.

Athos took the paper and read:

«Monsieur d'Artagnan, the king has very keenly regretted that you were not at St. Paul with his cortège. His Majesty says you were wanting to him as you were also wanting to me, dear captain. There is but one way to repair all that. His Majesty expects me at nine o'clock at St. James's Palace; will you be there at the same time as I? His Most Gracious Majesty fixes that hour for you for the audience she grants you.»

The letter was from Monck.

Chapter XXXIII — The Audience

— Well? cried Athos with a gentle reproach, when d'Artagnan had read the letter addressed to him by Monck.

— Well! said d'Artagnan, red with pleasure and a little with shame at having been in such haste to accuse the king and Monck, it is a courtesy... which commits to nothing, true... but after all it is a courtesy.

— I had great difficulty in believing the young prince ungrateful, said Athos.

— The fact is that his present is still very near his past, replied d'Artagnan; but after all, hitherto everything gave me right.

— I grant it, dear friend, I grant it. Ah! there is your good look returned. You cannot think how happy I am.

— So, see, said d'Artagnan, Charles II receives M. Monck at nine o'clock, me he will receive at ten; it is a grand audience, of the kind we call at the Louvre distribution of court holy water. Let us go place ourselves under the gutter, my dear friend, let us go.

Athos answered him nothing, and both directed their steps, quickening their pace, toward St. James's Palace, which the crowd still invaded, to catch sight through the windows of the shadows of courtiers and the reflections of the royal person. Eight o'clock was striking when the two friends took their places in the gallery full of courtiers and petitioners. Each cast a glance at those simple habits of foreign cut, at those two heads so noble, so full of character and meaning. For their part, Athos and d'Artagnan, having in two glances measured all that assembly, fell again to talking together. A great noise suddenly arose at the ends of the gallery: it was General Monck entering, followed by more than twenty officers who courted one of his smiles, for he had been but the day before master of England, and men supposed a fine morrow for the restorer of the house of Stuart.

— Gentlemen, said Monck, turning aside, henceforth, I pray you, remember that I am no longer anything. But lately I commanded the principal army of the republic; now that army is the king's, into whose hands I am going to deliver, by his order, my power of yesterday.

Great surprise painted itself on all faces, and the circle of flatterers and suppliants that had pressed Monck the instant before widened by degrees and ended by losing itself in the great undulations of the crowd. Monck was going to wait in the antechamber like everybody else. D'Artagnan could not forbear making the remark to the Comte de La Fère, who knit his brow. Suddenly the door of Charles's cabinet opened, and the young king appeared, preceded by two officers of his household.

— Good evening, gentlemen, said he. Is General Monck here?

— Here I am, Sire, replied the old general.

Charles ran to him and took his hands with a fervent friendship.

— General, said the king aloud, I have just signed your patent; you are Duke of Albermale, and my intention is that none equal you in power and fortune in this kingdom, where, the noble Montrose excepted, none have equaled you in loyalty, courage and talent. Gentlemen, the duke is commander-general of our armies by land and sea, render him your duties, if you please, in that capacity.

While each was pressing near the general, who received all those homages without for an instant losing his customary impassibility, d'Artagnan said to Athos:

— When one thinks that this dukedom, this command of the armies by land and sea, all those grandeurs, in a word, were contained in a box six feet long by three feet wide!

— Friend, replied Athos, far more imposing grandeurs are contained in boxes still smaller; they enclose forever...

Suddenly Monck perceived the two gentlemen who held aloof, waiting till the tide should withdraw. He made his way and went toward them, so that he surprised them in the midst of their philosophic reflections.

— You were speaking of me, said he with a smile.

— Milord, answered Athos, we were speaking also of God.

Monck reflected a moment and resumed gaily:

— Gentlemen, let us speak a little of the king too, if you please; for you have, I believe, audience of His Majesty.

— At nine o'clock, said Athos.

— At ten o'clock, said d'Artagnan.

— Let us enter this cabinet at once, replied Monck, making sign to his two companions to precede him, to which neither one nor the other would consent.

The king, during this very French debate, had come back to the center of the gallery.

— Oh! my Frenchmen, said he in that tone of careless gaiety which, despite so many griefs and reverses, he had not been able to lose. The French, my consolation!

Athos and d'Artagnan bowed.

— Duke, conduct these gentlemen into my study. I am at your service, gentlemen, added he in French.

And he dispatched his court promptly to return to his Frenchmen, as he called them.

— Monsieur d'Artagnan, said he, entering his cabinet, I am glad to see you again.

— Sire, my joy is at its height to salute Your Majesty in your palace of St. James.

— Monsieur, you would render me a very great service, and I owe you gratitude. If I did not fear to encroach upon the rights of our commander-general, I would offer you some post worthy of you near our person.

— Sire, replied d'Artagnan, I left the service of the King of France making to my prince the promise to serve no king.

— Come, said Charles, that makes me very unhappy, I should have liked to do much for you, you please me.

— Sire...

— Let us see, said Charles with a smile, can I not make you break your word? Duke, help me. If one offered you, that is to say if I offered you, I, the general command of my musketeers?

D'Artagnan bowing lower than the first time:

— I should have the regret of refusing what Your Gracious Majesty would offer me, said he; a gentleman has but his word, and that word, I have had the honor to tell Your Majesty, is pledged to the King of France.

— Let us speak of it no more, said the king, turning toward Athos.

And he left d'Artagnan plunged in the liveliest pains of disappointment.

— Ah! I said it well, murmured the musketeer: words! court holy water! Kings always have a marvelous talent for offering you what they know you will not accept, and showing themselves generous without risk. Fool!... triple fool that I was to have hoped for a moment!

During this time Charles was taking Athos's hand.

— Count, said he to him, you have been a second father to me; the service you rendered me cannot be paid. I have thought, however, to reward you. You were created by my father Knight of the Garter; it is an order which all the kings of Europe cannot wear; by the queen regent, Knight of the Holy Spirit, which is an order no less illustrious; I add thereto this Golden Fleece which the King of France sent me, to whom the King of Spain, his father-in-law, had given two on occasion of his marriage; but, in return, I have a service to ask of you.

— Sire, said Athos with confusion, the Golden Fleece to me! when the King of France is the only one of my country who enjoys that distinction!

— I wish you to be in your country and everywhere the equal of all those whom sovereigns shall have honored with their favor, said Charles, drawing the chain from his neck; and I am sure of it, count, my father smiles on me from the depth of his tomb.

«It is strange, however, said d'Artagnan to himself while his friend received on his knees the eminent order the king conferred on him, it is incredible, however, that I have always seen the rain of prosperities fall on all who surround me, and that not a drop has ever reached me! It would be enough to tear one's hair if one were jealous, upon my honor!»

Athos rose, Charles embraced him tenderly.

— General, said he to Monck.

Then, stopping, with a smile:

“Stories of the world, in your language.”