Part 11

— I am very much inclined, said Porthos, puffed up by this speech, to give Madame Trüchen my little farm at Bracieux; that is also a pretty ring on the finger... twelve acres.

— That is too much, my good Porthos, too much for the moment... Keep that for later.

He took the diamond from her finger, and, approaching Trüchen:

— Madame, he said, the baron begs you to do him the honor of accepting, for love of him, this little ring. M. du Vallon is one of the most generous and discreet men I know. He wished to offer you a farm he owns at Bracieux; I dissuaded him from it.

— Oh! said Trüchen, devouring the diamond with her eyes.

— Monsieur le baron! cried Planchet, touched.

— My good friend! stammered Porthos, charmed to have been so well translated by d'Artagnan.

All these exclamations, crossing one another, made a pathetic ending to the day, which might have concluded in a grotesque fashion.

But d'Artagnan was there, and everywhere; when d'Artagnan had given the order, things ended only according to his taste and his wish.

They embraced. Trüchen, restored to herself by the baron's magnificence, felt in her place, and offered only a timid and blushing brow to the great nobleman with whom she had so well familiarized herself the evening before.

Planchet himself was filled with humility.

In a vein of generosity, Baron Porthos would willingly have emptied his pockets into the hands of the cook and Célestin.

But d'Artagnan stopped him.

— My turn, he said.

And he gave a pistole to the woman and two to the man.

These were blessings enough to gladden the heart of Harpagon and make him prodigal.

D'Artagnan had Planchet conduct him to the château and introduced Porthos into his apartment as captain, where he entered without being perceived by those he feared to meet.

Chapter CXLVII — The Presentation of Porthos

That very evening, at seven o'clock, the king was giving audience to an ambassador from the United Provinces in the grand salon.

The audience lasted a quarter of an hour.

After which, he received the new presentations and some ladies who passed first.

In a corner of the salon, behind the column, Porthos and d'Artagnan were conversing while awaiting their turn.

— Do you know the news? said the musketeer to his friend.

— No.

— Well! look at him.

Porthos rose on tiptoe and saw M. Fouquet in ceremonial dress conducting Aramis to the king.

— Aramis! said Porthos.

— Presented to the king by M. Fouquet.

— Ah! said Porthos.

— For having fortified Belle-Île, continued d'Artagnan.

— And I?

— You? You, as I had the honor of telling you, you are good Porthos, the goodness of God; thus you are asked to keep Saint-Mandé a while.

— Ah! repeated Porthos.

— But I am here fortunately, said d'Artagnan, and it will be my turn presently.

At this moment, Fouquet addressed the king:

— Sire, he said, I have a favor to ask of Your Majesty. M. d'Herblay is not ambitious, but he knows he may be useful. Your Majesty needs to have an agent in Rome and to have him powerful; we may obtain a hat for M. d'Herblay.

The king made a movement.

— I do not often ask anything of Your Majesty, said Fouquet.

— It is a case, replied the king, who thus always translated his hesitations.

At this word, none had anything to reply.

Fouquet and Aramis looked at one another.

The king resumed:

— M. d'Herblay may also serve us in France: an archbishop, for example.

— Sire, objected Fouquet with a grace peculiar to him, Your Majesty overwhelms M. d'Herblay: the archbishopric may, in the good graces of the king, be the complement of the hat; one does not exclude the other.

The king admired the presence of mind and smiled.

— D'Artagnan could not have answered better, he said.

He had scarcely pronounced this name when d'Artagnan appeared.

— Does Your Majesty call me? said he.

Aramis and Fouquet took a step to withdraw.

— Permit me, Sire, said d'Artagnan quickly, who unmasked Porthos, permit me to present to Your Majesty the Baron du Vallon, one of the bravest gentlemen of France.

Aramis, at the sight of Porthos, grew pale; Fouquet clenched his fists under his ruffles.

D'Artagnan smiled at both of them, while Porthos bowed, visibly moved, before royal majesty.

— Porthos here! murmured Fouquet in Aramis's ear.

— Hush! it is a betrayal, replied the latter.

— Sire, said d'Artagnan, it is six years since I should have presented M. du Vallon to Your Majesty; but certain men resemble the stars; they do not go without the cortege of their friends. The Pleiades do not separate, that is why I chose, to present M. du Vallon to you, the moment when you would see M. d'Herblay beside him.

Aramis nearly lost his composure. He looked at d'Artagnan with a superb air, as if to accept the challenge the latter seemed to throw down.

— Ah! these gentlemen are good friends? said the king.

— Excellent, Sire, and one answers for the other. Ask M. de Vannes how Belle-Île was fortified?

Fouquet stepped away a pace.

— Belle-Île, said Aramis coldly, was fortified by Monsieur.

And he pointed to Porthos, who bowed a second time.

Louis admired and was distrustful.

— Yes, said d'Artagnan; but ask the baron who aided him in his works?

— Aramis, said Porthos frankly.

And he designated the bishop.

"What the devil does all this mean, thought the bishop, and what ending will this comedy have?"

— What! said the king, M. the cardinal... I mean the bishop... is called Aramis?

— War name, said d'Artagnan.

— Name of friendship, said Aramis.

— No modesty, cried d'Artagnan: under this priest, Sire, hides the most brilliant officer, the most intrepid gentleman, the most learned theologian of your kingdom.

Louis lifted his head.

— And an engineer! said he, admiring the physiognomy, really admirable then, of Aramis.

— Engineer by occasion, Sire, said the latter.

— My companion in the musketeers, Sire, said d'Artagnan warmly, the man whose counsel aided more than a hundred times the designs of the ministers of your father... M. d'Herblay, in a word, who, with M. du Vallon, myself and M. the Count de La Fère, known to Your Majesty... formed that quadrille of which several spoke under the late king and during your minority.

— And who fortified Belle-Île, repeated the king with a deep accent.

Aramis advanced.

— To serve the son, said he, as I served the father.

D'Artagnan looked well at Aramis, while he uttered these words. He discerned in them so much true respect, so much warm devotion, so much incontestable conviction, that he, he, d'Artagnan, the eternal doubter, he, the infallible, was taken in by it.

— One does not have such an accent when one lies, said he.

Louis was penetrated.

— In that case, said he to Fouquet, who awaited with anxiety the result of this trial, the hat is granted. Monsieur d'Herblay, I give you my word for the first promotion. Thank M. Fouquet.

These words were heard by Colbert, whose heart they tore. He left the hall precipitately.

— You, Monsieur du Vallon, said the king, ask... I like to reward the servants of my father.

— Sire, said Porthos...

And he could go no further.

— Sire, cried d'Artagnan, this worthy gentleman is struck dumb by the majesty of your person, he who proudly sustained the gaze and fire of a thousand enemies. But I know what he thinks, and I, more accustomed to looking at the sun... I will tell you his thought: he needs nothing, he desires only the happiness of contemplating Your Majesty for a quarter of an hour.

— You sup with me this evening, said the king, saluting Porthos with a gracious smile.

Porthos became crimson with joy and pride.

The king dismissed him, and d'Artagnan pushed him into the hall after embracing him.

— Sit near me at table, said Porthos in his ear.

— Yes, my friend.

— Aramis is sulking with me, is he not?

— Aramis has never loved you more. Think that I have just got him the cardinal's hat.

— That is true, said Porthos. By the way, does the king like one to eat much at his table?

— It is to flatter him, said d'Artagnan, for he possesses a royal appetite.

— You delight me, said Porthos.

Chapter CXLVIII — Explanations

Aramis had skillfully turned about to go find d'Artagnan and Porthos.

He arrived near the latter behind the column, and, pressing his hand:

— You escaped from my prison? said he to him.

— Do not scold him, said d'Artagnan; it is I, dear Aramis, who gave him the key to the fields.

— Ah! my friend, replied Aramis looking at Porthos, would you have waited with less patience?

D'Artagnan came to the aid of Porthos, who was already puffing.

— You others, men of the Church, said he to Aramis, are great politicians. We others, men of the sword, go straight to the point. Here is the fact. I had gone to visit our dear Baisemeaux.

Aramis pricked up his ears.

— Why, said Porthos, you remind me that I have a letter from Baisemeaux for you, Aramis.

And Porthos held out to the bishop the letter we know.

Aramis asked permission to read it, and read it, without d'Artagnan appearing for a moment embarrassed by this circumstance which he had entirely foreseen.

Moreover, Aramis himself made such a good face that d'Artagnan admired him more than ever.

The letter read, Aramis put it in his pocket with a perfectly calm air.

— You were saying then, dear captain? said he.

— I was saying, continued the musketeer, that I had gone to pay a visit to Baisemeaux on business.

— On business? said Aramis.

— Yes, said d'Artagnan. And naturally, we spoke of you and our friends. I must say that Baisemeaux received me coldly. I took my leave. Now, as I was returning, a soldier accosted me and said to me (he recognized me no doubt despite my civilian clothes): "Captain, will you do me the favor of reading the name written on this envelope?" And I read: _To M. du Vallon, at Saint-Mandé, at M. Fouquet's._ "Pardieu!" said I to myself, "Porthos has not returned, as I thought, to Pierrefonds or to Belle-Île, Porthos is at Saint-Mandé at M. Fouquet's. M. Fouquet is not at Saint-Mandé. Porthos is therefore alone, or with Aramis; let us go see Porthos." And I went to see Porthos.

— Very well! said Aramis dreamily.

— You had not told me that, said Porthos.

— I have not had the time, my friend.

— And you took Porthos to Fontainebleau?

— To Planchet's.

— Planchet lives at Fontainebleau? said Aramis.

— Yes, near the cemetery! cried Porthos heedlessly.

— How, near the cemetery? said Aramis suspiciously.

"Very good! thought the musketeer, let us profit from the brawl, since there is a brawl."

— Yes, the cemetery, said Porthos. Planchet is certainly an excellent fellow who makes excellent preserves, but he has windows overlooking the cemetery. It is depressing! Thus this morning...

— This morning?... said Aramis, more and more agitated.

D'Artagnan turned his back and went to drum on the windowpane a little marching tune.

— This morning, continued Porthos, we saw a Christian buried.

— Ah! ah!

— It is saddening! I would not live, myself, in a house from which one continually sees the dead. On the contrary, d'Artagnan seems to like that very much.

— Ah! d'Artagnan saw?

— He did not see, he devoured with his eyes.

Aramis started and turned to look at the musketeer; but the latter was already in deep conversation with de Saint-Aignan.

Aramis continued to question Porthos; then, when he had expressed all the juice of this gigantic lemon, he threw away the rind.

He returned to his friend d'Artagnan and, tapping him on the shoulder:

— Friend, said he, when de Saint-Aignan had moved away, for the king's supper was announced.

— Dear friend, replied d'Artagnan.

— We are not supping with the king, we others.

— Indeed; I am supping.

— Can you talk ten minutes with me?

— Twenty. It takes just as long for His Majesty to sit down to table.

— Where do you wish us to talk?

— Why, here, on these benches: the king gone, one may sit, and the hall is empty.

— Let us sit then.

They sat. Aramis took one of d'Artagnan's hands;

— Confess to me, dear friend, said he, that you engaged Porthos to distrust me a little?

— I confess it, but not as you understand it. I saw Porthos dying of boredom, and I wished, in presenting him to the king, to do for him and for you what you would never do yourself.

— What?

— Your eulogy.

— You did it nobly, thank you!

— And I brought you the hat that was drawing back.

— Ah! I confess, said Aramis with a singular smile; truly, you are a unique man for making the fortune of your friends.

— You see then that I acted only to make that of Porthos.

— Oh! I was taking care of it on my side; but you have the longer arm than we.

It was d'Artagnan's turn to smile.

— Come, said Aramis, we owe each other the truth: do you still love me, my dear d'Artagnan?

— Always as of old, replied d'Artagnan, without too much committing himself by this answer.

— Then, thank you, and full frankness, said Aramis; you were coming to Belle-Île for the king?

— Pardieu.

— You then wished to rob us of the pleasure of offering Belle-Île, all fortified, to the king?

— But, my friend, to rob you of the pleasure, it would first have been necessary that I be informed of your intention.

— You were coming to Belle-Île knowing nothing?

— Of you, yes! How the devil do you expect me to figure Aramis become an engineer to the point of fortifying like Polybius or Archimedes?

— Yet it is true. However, you guessed me there?

— Oh! yes.

— And Porthos too?

— Very dear, I did not guess that Aramis was an engineer. I could not guess that Porthos had become one. There is a Latin who said: "One becomes an orator, one is born a poet." But he never said: "One is born Porthos, and one becomes an engineer."

— You always have a charming wit, said Aramis coldly. I continue.

— Continue.

— When you held our secret, you hastened to come tell the king?

— I ran all the more, my good friend, that I saw you run faster. When a man weighing two hundred fifty-eight pounds, like Porthos, travels post-haste, when a gouty prelate — pardon, it is you who told me so — when a prelate burns up the road, I suppose, myself, that those two friends, who would not warn me, had things of the last consequence to hide from me, and, faith! I run... I run as fast as my leanness and absence of gout permit me.

— Dear friend, did you not reflect that you could render, to me and to Porthos, a sorry service?

— I thought so well; but you made me play, Porthos and you, a sorry role at Belle-Île.

— Forgive me, said Aramis.

— Excuse me, said d'Artagnan.

— So, continued Aramis, you know everything now?

— Faith, no.

— You know that I had to have M. Fouquet warned at once, so that he might warn you near the king?

— That is the obscure part.

— But no. M. Fouquet has enemies, you acknowledge it?

— Oh! yes.

— He has one especially.

— Dangerous?

— Mortal! Well! to combat the influence of this enemy, M. Fouquet had to show, before the king, great devotion and great sacrifices. He surprised His Majesty by offering him Belle-Île. You, arriving first in Paris, the surprise was destroyed. We looked as if we were yielding to fear.

— I understand.

— That is the whole mystery, said Aramis, satisfied to have convinced the musketeer.

— Only, said the latter, simpler to draw me aside at Belle-Île to say to me: "Dear friends, we are fortifying Belle-Île-en-Mer to offer it to the king. Do us the service of telling us for whom you act. Are you the friend of M. Colbert or that of M. Fouquet?" Perhaps I would have answered nothing; but you would have added: "Are you my friend?" I would have said: "Yes."

Aramis inclined his head.

— In this way, continued d'Artagnan, you paralyzed me, and I came to say to the king: "Sire, M. Fouquet is fortifying Belle-Île, and very well; but here is a word that the governor of Belle-Île gave me for Your Majesty." or else: "Here is a visit from M. Fouquet regarding his intentions." I did not play a fool's role; you had your surprise, and we had no need to squint at each other.

— Whereas, replied Aramis, today you acted quite as a friend of M. Colbert. You are then his friend?

— Faith, no! cried the captain. M. Colbert is a boor, and I hate him as I hated Mazarin, but without fearing him.

— Well! I, said Aramis, love M. Fouquet, and I am his. You know my position... I have no fortune... M. Fouquet had me given benefices, a bishopric; M. Fouquet obliged me like a gentleman, and I remember the world well enough to appreciate good dealings. Thus M. Fouquet won my heart, and I put myself in his service.

— Nothing better. You have there a good master.

Aramis pinched his lips.

— The best, I believe, of all one could have.

Then he made a pause.

D'Artagnan took good care not to interrupt him.

— You know no doubt from Porthos how he came to be mixed up in all this?

— No, said d'Artagnan; I am curious, it is true, but I never question a friend when he wishes to hide his true secret from me.

— I am going to tell you.

— It is not worth the trouble if the confidence engages me.

— Oh! fear nothing; Porthos is the man I have most loved, because he is simple and good; Porthos is a straight mind. Since I have been bishop, I seek out simple natures, which make me love truth, hate intrigue.

D'Artagnan stroked his mustache.

— I saw and sought out Porthos; he was idle, his presence recalled my fine days of old, without engaging me to do ill in the present. I called Porthos to Vannes. M. Fouquet, who loves me, having learned that Porthos loved me, promised him the order at the first promotion; that is the whole secret.

— I shall not abuse it, said d'Artagnan.

— I know it well, dear friend; none has more real honor than you.

— I flatter myself, Aramis.

— Now...

And the prelate looked into his friend to the bottom of his soul.

— Now, let us talk of us for ourselves. Do you wish to become one of the friends of M. Fouquet? Do not interrupt me before knowing what that means.

— I listen.

— Do you wish to become marshal of France, peer, duke, and possess a duchy of a million?

— But, my friend, replied d'Artagnan, to obtain all that, what must one do?

— Be the man of M. Fouquet.

— I, I am the man of the king, dear friend.

— Not exclusively, I suppose?

— Oh! d'Artagnan is but one.

— You have, I presume, an ambition, as a great heart that you are.

— But yes.

— Well?

— Well! I desire to be marshal of France; but the king will make me marshal, duke, peer; the king will give me all that.

Aramis fixed on d'Artagnan his limpid gaze.

— Is not the king the master? said d'Artagnan.

— None disputes it; but Louis XIII was also the master.

— Oh! but, dear friend, between Richelieu and Louis XIII there was not a M. d'Artagnan, said the musketeer tranquilly.

— Around the king, said Aramis, there are many stumbling blocks.

— Not for the king?

— Doubtless; but...

— See here, Aramis, I see that everyone thinks of himself and never of that little prince; I shall sustain myself by sustaining him.

— And ingratitude?

— The weak fear it!

— You are very sure of yourself.

— I believe so.

— But the king may have no more need of you.

— On the contrary, I believe he will have more need than ever; and, see here, my dear, if it were necessary to arrest a new Condé, who would arrest him? This... this alone in France.

And d'Artagnan struck his sword.

— You are right, said Aramis, growing pale.

And he rose and pressed d'Artagnan's hand.

— Here is the last call to supper, said the captain of the musketeers; you permit...

Aramis passed his arm around the musketeer's neck, and said to him:

— A friend like you is the finest jewel of the royal crown.

Then they parted.

"I said well, thought d'Artagnan, that there was something."

"We must hasten to set fire to the powder, said Aramis; d'Artagnan has sniffed out the fuse."

Chapter CXLIX — Madame and de Guiche

We have seen that the Count de Guiche left the hall the day when Louis XIV had offered with such gallantry to La Vallière the marvelous bracelets won at the lottery.

The count walked some time outside the palace, his mind devoured by a thousand suspicions and a thousand anxieties.

Then he was seen watching on the terrace, facing the quincunxes, for Madame's departure.

A good half-hour passed. Alone, at that moment, the count could not have very diverting thoughts.

He drew his tablet from his pocket, and decided, after a thousand hesitations, to write these words:

"Madame, I beseech you to grant me a moment of interview. Do not be alarmed by this request which has nothing foreign to the profound respect with which I am, etc., etc."

He was signing this singular petition folded as a love note, when he saw issue from the château several women, then men, almost all the circle of the queen, finally.

He saw La Vallière herself, then Montalais conversing with Malicorne.

He saw even to the last of the guests who but a moment before peopled the cabinet of the queen mother.

Madame had not passed; yet she must cross this court to return to her apartments, and, from the terrace, de Guiche looked down into this court.

At last, he saw Madame issue with two pages who carried torches. She walked quickly, and, arrived at her door, she cried:

— Pages, go inquire after the Count de Guiche. He must render me account of a commission. If he is free, bid him pass by my rooms.

De Guiche remained mute and hidden in his shadow; but, as soon as Madame had re-entered, he sprang from the terrace down the steps; he assumed the most indifferent air to be met by the pages, who were already running toward his lodging.

"Ah! Madame sends for me!" said he to himself, all moved.

And he pressed his note, henceforth useless.

— Count, said one of the pages on perceiving him, we are happy to meet you.

— What is it, gentlemen?

— An order from Madame.

— An order from Madame? said de Guiche with a surprised air.

— Yes, count, Her Royal Highness asks for you; you owe her, she told us, account of a commission. Are you free?

— I am wholly at the orders of Her Royal Highness.

— Be so good as to follow us.

Mounted to the princess's rooms, de Guiche found her pale and agitated.

At the door stood Montalais, a little anxious at what was passing in her mistress's mind.

De Guiche appeared.

— Ah! it is you, Monsieur de Guiche, said Madame; enter, I pray you... Mademoiselle de Montalais, your service is done.

Montalais, still more intrigued, bowed and withdrew.

The two interlocutors remained alone.

The count had all the advantage: it was Madame who had called him to a rendezvous. But, this advantage, how was it possible for the count to use it? Madame was such a fanciful person! the character of Her Royal Highness was so mobile!

“Stories of the world, in your language.”