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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
Book online «Twenty Years After by Alexandre Dumas (epub read online books .txt) 📖». Author Alexandre Dumas
“And I, my dear Aramis,” quietly replied Athos, “I think it would only change Monsieur de Retz’s appearance. Take my advice, leave things just as they are; besides, you are neither of you now your own masters; he belongs to the Fronde and you to the queen of England. So, if the second matter which you regret being unable to attend to is not more important than the first----”
“Oh! that is of the first importance.”
“Attend to it, then, at once.”
“Unfortunately, it is a thing that I can’t perform at any time I choose. It was arranged for the evening and no other time will serve.”
“I understand,” said Athos smiling, “midnight.”
“About that time.”
“But, my dear fellow, those are things that bear postponement and you must put it off, especially with so good an excuse to give on your return----”
“Yes, if I return.”
“If you do not return, how does it concern you? Be reasonable. Come, you are no longer twenty years old.”
“To my great regret, mordieu! Ah, if I were but twenty years old!”
“Yes,” said Athos, “doubtless you would commit great follies! But now we must part. I have one or two visits to make and a letter yet to write. Call for me at eight o’clock or shall I wait supper for you at seven?”
“That will do very well,” said Aramis. “I have twenty visits to make and as many letters to write.”
They then separated. Athos went to pay a visit to Madame de Vendome, left his name at Madame de Chevreuse’s and wrote the following letter to D’Artagnan:
“Dear Friend,--I am about to set off with Aramis on important business. I wished to make my adieux to you, but time does not permit. Remember that I write to you now to repeat how much affection for you I still cherish.
“Raoul is gone to Blois and is ignorant of my departure; watch over him in my absence as much as you possibly can; and if by chance you receive no news of me three months hence, tell him to open a packet which he will find addressed to him in my bronze casket at Blois, of which I send you now the key.
“Embrace Porthos from Aramis and myself. Adieu, perhaps farewell.”
At the hour agreed upon Aramis arrived; he was dressed as an officer and had the old sword at his side which he had drawn so often and which he was more than ever ready to draw.
“By-the-bye,” he said, “I think that we are decidedly wrong to depart thus, without leaving a line for Porthos and D’Artagnan.”
“The thing is done, dear friend,” said Athos; “I foresaw that and have embraced them both from you and myself.”
“You are a wonderful man, my dear count,” said Aramis; “you think of everything.”
“Well, have you made up your mind to this journey?”
“Quite; and now that I reflect about it, I am glad to leave Paris at this moment.”
“And so am I,” replied Athos; “my only regret is not having seen D’Artagnan; but the rascal is so cunning, he might have guessed our project.”
When supper was over Blaisois entered. “Sir,” said he, “here is Monsieur d’Artagnan’s answer.”
“But I did not tell you there would be an answer, stupid!” said Athos.
“And I set off without waiting for one, but he called me back and gave me this;” and he presented a little leather bag, plump and giving out a golden jingle.
Athos opened it and began by drawing forth a little note, written in these terms:
“My dear Count,--When one travels, and especially for three months, one never has a superfluity of money. Now, recalling former times of mutual distress, I send you half my purse; it is money to obtain which I made Mazarin sweat. Don’t make a bad use of it, I entreat you.
“As to what you say about not seeing you again, I believe not a word of it; with such a heart as yours--and such a sword--one passes through the valley of the shadow of death a dozen times, unscathed and unalarmed. Au revoir, not farewell.
“It is unnecessary to say that from the day I saw Raoul I loved him; nevertheless, believe that I heartily pray that I may not become to him a father, however much I might be proud of such a son.
“Your
“D’Artagnan.
“P.S.--Be it well understood that the fifty louis which I send are equally for Aramis as for you--for you as Aramis.”
Athos smiled, and his fine eye was dimmed by a tear. D’Artagnan, who had loved him so tenderly, loved him still, although a Mazarinist.
“There are the fifty louis, i’faith,” said Aramis, emptying the purse on the table, all bearing the effigy of Louis XIII. “Well, what shall you do with this money, count? Shall you keep it or send it back?”
“I shall keep it, Aramis, and even though I had no need of it I still should keep it. What is offered from a generous heart should be accepted generously. Take twenty-five of them, Aramis, and give me the remaining twenty-five.”
“All right; I am glad to see you are of my opinion. There now, shall we start?”
“When you like; but have you no groom?”
“No; that idiot Bazin had the folly to make himself verger, as you know, and therefore cannot leave Notre Dame.
“Very well, take Blaisois, with whom I know not what to do, since I already have Grimaud.”
“Willingly,” said Aramis.
At this moment Grimaud appeared at the door. “Ready,” said he, with his usual curtness.
“Let us go, then,” said Athos.
The two friends mounted, as did their servants. At the corner of the Quai they encountered Bazin, who was running breathlessly.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed he, “thank Heaven I have arrived in time. Monsieur Porthos has just been to your house and has left this for you, saying that the letter was important and must be given to you before you left.”
“Good,” said Aramis, taking a purse which Bazin presented to him. “What is this?”
“Wait, your reverence, there is a letter.”
“You know I have already told you that if you ever call me anything but chevalier I will break every bone in your body. Give me the letter.”
“How can you read?” asked Athos, “it is as dark as a cold oven.”
“Wait,” said Bazin, striking a flint, and setting afire a twisted wax-light, with which he started the church candles. Thus illumined, Aramis read the following epistle:
“My dear D’Herblay,--I learned from D’Artagnan who has embraced me on the part of the Comte de la Fere and yourself, that you are setting out on a journey which may perhaps last two or three months; as I know that you do not like to ask money of your friends I offer you some of my own accord. Here are two hundred pistoles, which you can dispose of as you wish and return to me when opportunity occurs. Do not fear that you put me to inconvenience; if I want money I can send for some to any of my chateaux; at Bracieux alone, I have twenty thousand francs in gold. So, if I do not send you more it is because I fear you would not accept a larger sum.
“I address you, because you know, that although I esteem him from my heart I am a little awed by the Comte de la Fere; but it is understood that what I offer you I offer him at the same time.
“I am, as I trust you do not doubt, your devoted
“Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.”
“Well,” said Aramis, “what do you say to that?”
“I say, my dear D’Herblay, that it is almost sacrilege to distrust Providence when one has such friends, and therefore we will divide the pistoles from Porthos, as we divided the louis sent by D’Artagnan.”
The division being made by the light of Bazin’s taper, the two friends continued their road and a quarter of an hour later they had joined De Winter at the Porte Saint Denis.
The three gentlemen took the road to Picardy, a road so well known to them and which recalled to Athos and Aramis some of the most picturesque adventures of their youth.
“If Mousqueton were with us,” observed Athos, on reaching the spot where they had had a dispute with the paviers, “how he would tremble at passing this! Do you remember, Aramis, that it was here he received that famous bullet wound?”
“By my faith, ‘twould be excusable in him to tremble,” replied Aramis, “for even I feel a shudder at the recollection; hold, just above that tree is the little spot where I thought I was killed.”
It was soon time for Grimaud to recall the past. Arriving before the inn at which his master and himself had made such an enormous repast, he approached Athos and said, showing him the airhole of the cellar:
“Sausages!”
Athos began to laugh, for this juvenile escapade of his appeared to be as amusing as if some one had related it of another person.
At last, after traveling two days and a night, they arrived at Boulogne toward the evening, favored by magnificent weather. Boulogne was a strong position, then almost a deserted town, built entirely on the heights; what is now called the lower town did not then exist.
“Gentlemen,” said De Winter, on reaching the gate of the town, “let us do here as at Paris--let us separate to avoid suspicion. I know an inn, little frequented, but of which the host is entirely devoted to me. I will go there, where I expect to find letters, and you go to the first tavern in the town, to L’Epee du Grand Henri for instance, refresh yourselves, and in two hours be upon the jetty; our boat is waiting for us there.”
The matter being thus decided, the two friends found, about two hundred paces further, the tavern indicated. Their horses were fed, but not unsaddled; the grooms supped, for it was already late, and their two masters, impatient to return, appointed a place of meeting with them on the jetty and desired them on no account to exchange a word with any one. It is needless to say that this caution concerned Blaisois alone--long enough since it had been a useless one to Grimaud.
Athos and Aramis walked down toward the port. From their dress, covered with dust, and from a certain easy manner by means of which a man accustomed to travel is always recognizable, the two friends excited the attention of a few promenaders. There was more especially one upon whom their arrival had produced a decided impression. This man, whom they had noticed from the first for the same reason they had themselves been remarked by others, was walking in a listless way up and down the jetty. From the moment he perceived them he did not cease to look at them and seemed to burn with the wish to speak to them.
On reaching the jetty Athos and Aramis stopped to look at a little boat made fast to a pile and ready rigged as if waiting to start.
“That is doubtless our boat,” said Athos.
“Yes,” replied Aramis, “and the sloop out there making ready to sail must be that which is to take us to our destination; now,” continued he, “if only De Winter does not keep us waiting. It is not at all amusing here; there is not a single woman passing.”
“Hush!” said Athos, “we
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