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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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D’Artagnan glanced at Valot and Saint-Aignan, as much as to say, “Well! did I not tell you so?”
The king led Manicamp to the door, and then in a low tone of voice said: “See that M. de Guiche takes good care of himself, and particularly that he recovers as soon as possible; I am very desirous of thanking him in the name of every lady, but let him take special care that he does not begin again.”
“Were he to die a hundred times, sire, he would begin again if your majesty’s honor were in any way called in question.”
This remark was direct enough. But we have already said that the incense of flattery was very pleasing to the king, and, provided he received it, he was not very particular as to its quality.
“Very well, very well,” he said, as he dismissed Manicamp, “I will see De Guiche myself, and make him listen to reason.” And as Manicamp left the apartment, the king turned round towards the three spectators of this scene, and said, “Tell me, Monsieur d’Artagnan, how does it happen that your sight is so imperfect?—you, whose eyes are generally so very good.”
“My sight bad, sire?”
“Certainly.”
“It must be the case since your majesty says so; but in what respect, may I ask?”
“Why, with regard to what occurred in the Bois-Rochin.”
“Ah! ah!”
“Certainly. You pretended to have seen the tracks of two horses, to have detected the footprints of two men; and have described the particulars of an engagement, which you assert took place. Nothing of the sort occurred; pure illusion on your part.”
“Ah! ah!” said D’Artagnan.
“Exactly the same thing with the galloping to and fro of the horses, and the other indications of a struggle. It was the struggle of De Guiche against the wild boar, and absolutely nothing else; only the struggle was a long and a terrible one, it seems.”
“Ah! ah!” continued D’Artagnan.
“And when I think that I almost believed it for a moment—but, then, you told it with such confidence.”
“I admit, sire, that I must have been very short-sighted,” said D’Artagnan, with a readiness of humor which delighted the king.
“You do admit it, then?”
“Admit it, sire, most assuredly I do.”
“So now that you see the thing—”
“In quite a different light from that in which I saw it half an hour ago.”
“And to what, then, do you attribute this difference in your opinion?”
“Oh! a very simple thing, sire; half an hour ago I returned from Bois-Rochin, where I had nothing to light me but a stupid stable lantern—”
“While now?”
“While now I have all the wax-lights of your cabinet, and more than that, your majesty’s own eyes, which illuminate everything, like the blazing sun at noonday.”
The king began to laugh; and Saint-Aignan broke out into convulsions of merriment.
“It is precisely like M. Valot,” said D’Artagnan, resuming the conversation where the king had left off; “he has been imagining all along, that not only was M. de Guiche wounded by a bullet, but still more, that he extracted it, even, from his chest.”
“Upon my word,” said Valot, “I assure you—”
“Now, did you not believe that?” continued D’Artagnan.
“Yes,” said Valot; “not only did I believe it, but, at this very moment, I would swear it.”
“Well, my dear doctor, you have dreamt it.”
“I have dreamt it!”
“M. de Guiche’s wound—a mere dream; the bullet, a dream. So, take my advice, and prate no more about it.”
“Well said,” returned the king, “M. d’Artagnan’s advice is sound. Do not speak of your dream to any one, Monsieur Valot, and, upon the word of a gentleman, you will have no occasion to repent it. Good evening, gentlemen; a very sad affair, indeed, is a wild boar-hunt!”
“A very serious thing, indeed,” repeated D’Artagnan, in a loud voice, “is a wild boar-hunt!” and he repeated it in every room through which he passed; and left the chateau, taking Valot with him.
“And now we are alone,” said the king to Saint-Aignan, “what is the name of De Guiche’s adversary?”
Saint-Aignan looked at the king.
“Oh! do not hesitate,” said the king; “you know that I am bound beforehand to forgive.”
“De Wardes,” said Saint-Aignan.
“Very good,” said Louis XIV.; and then, retiring to his own room, added to himself, “To forgive is not to forget.”
Chapter XX. Showing the Advantage of Having Two Strings to One’s Bow.
Manicamp quitted the king’s apartment, delighted at having succeeded so well, when, just as he reached the bottom of the staircase and was passing a doorway, he felt that some one suddenly pulled him by the sleeve. He turned round and recognized Montalais, who was waiting for him in the passage, and who, in a very mysterious manner, with her body bent forward, and in a low tone of voice, said to him, “Follow me, monsieur, and without any delay, if you please.”
“Where to, mademoiselle?” inquired Manicamp.
“In the first place, a true knight would not have asked such a question, but would have followed me without requiring any explanation.”
“Well, mademoiselle, I am quite ready to conduct myself as a true knight.”
“No; it is too late, and you cannot take the credit of it. We are going to Madame’s apartment, so come at once.”
“Ah, ah!” said Manicamp. “Lead on, then.”
And he followed Montalais, who ran before him as light as Galatea.
“This time,” said Manicamp, as he followed his guide, “I do not think that stories about hunting expeditions would be acceptable. We will try, however, and if need be—well, if there should be any occasion for it, we must try something else.”
Montalais still ran on.
“How fatiguing it is,” thought Manicamp, “to have need of one’s head and legs at the same time.”
At last, however, they arrived. Madame had just finished undressing, and was
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