Twenty Years After by Alexandre Dumas (epub read online books .txt) 📖

“Sire, I am here,” said D’Artagnan, “and I give you my word, that if a single man has the audacity, his life shall pay for it.”

“And now what is to be done?” asked the queen, “for I hear them.”

“Monsieur Laporte, go to them and again recommend silence. Madame, wait at the door, whilst I shall be at the head of the king’s bed, ready to die for him.”

Laporte went out; the queen remained standing near the hangings, whilst D’Artagnan glided behind the curtains.

Then the heavy and collected steps of a multitude of men were heard, and the queen herself raised the tapestry hangings and put her finger on her lips.

On seeing the queen, the men stopped short, respectfully.

“Enter, gentlemen, enter,” said the queen.

There was then amongst that crowd a moment’s hesitation, which looked like shame. They had expected resistance, they had expected to be thwarted, to have to force the gates, to overturn the guards. The gates had opened of themselves, and the king, ostensibly at least, had no other guard at his bed-head but his mother. The foremost of them stammered and attempted to fall back.

“Enter, gentlemen,” said Laporte, “since the queen desires you so to do.”

Then one more bold than the rest ventured to pass the door and to advance on tiptoe. This example was imitated by the rest, until the room filled silently, as if these men had been the humblest, most devoted courtiers. Far beyond the door the heads of those who were not able to enter could be seen, all craning to their utmost height to try and see.

D’Artagnan saw it all through an opening he had made in the curtain, and in the very first man who entered he recognized Planchet.

“Sir,” said the queen to him, thinking he was the leader of the band, “you wished to see the king and therefore I determined to show him to you myself. Approach and look at him and say if we have the appearance of people who wish to run away.”

“No, certainly,” replied Planchet, rather astonished at the unexpected honor conferred upon him.

“You will say, then, to my good and faithful Parisians,” continued Anne, with a smile, the expression of which did not deceive D’Artagnan, “that you have seen the king in bed, asleep, and the queen also ready to retire.”

“I shall tell them, madame, and those who accompany me will say the same thing; but----”

“But what?” asked Anne of Austria.

“Will your majesty pardon me,” said Planchet, “but is it really the king who is lying there?”

Anne of Austria started. “If,” she said, “there is one among you who knows the king, let him approach and say whether it is really his majesty lying there.”

A man wrapped in a cloak, in the folds of which his face was hidden, approached and leaned over the bed and looked.

For one second, D’Artagnan thought the man had some evil design and he put his hand to his sword; but in the movement made by the man in stooping a portion of his face was uncovered and D’Artagnan recognized the coadjutor.

“It is certainly the king,” said the man, rising again. “God bless his majesty!”

“Yes,” repeated the leader in a whisper, “God bless his majesty!” and all these men, who had entered enraged, passed from anger to pity and blessed the royal infant in their turn.

“Now,” said Planchet, “let us thank the queen. My friends, retire.”

They all bowed, and retired by degrees as noiselessly as they had entered. Planchet, who had been the first to enter, was the last to leave. The queen stopped him.

“What is your name, my friend?” she said.

Planchet, much surprised at the inquiry, turned back.

“Yes,” continued the queen, “I think myself as much honored to have received you this evening as if you had been a prince, and I wish to know your name.”

“Yes,” thought Planchet, “to treat me as a prince. No, thank you.”

D’Artagnan trembled lest Planchet, seduced, like the crow in the fable, should tell his name, and that the queen, knowing his name, would discover that Planchet had belonged to him.

“Madame,” replied Planchet, respectfully, “I am called Dulaurier, at your service.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Dulaurier,” said the queen; “and what is your business?”

“Madame, I am a clothier in the Rue Bourdonnais.”

“That is all I wished to know,” said the queen. “Much obliged to you, Monsieur Dulaurier. You will hear again from me.”

“Come, come,” thought D’Artagnan, emerging from behind the curtain, “decidedly Monsieur Planchet is no fool; it is evident he has been brought up in a good school.”

The different actors in this strange scene remained facing one another, without uttering a single word; the queen standing near the door, D’Artagnan half out of his hiding place, the king raised on his elbow, ready to fall down on his bed again at the slightest sound that would indicate the return of the multitude, but instead of approaching, the noise became more and more distant and very soon it died entirely away.

The queen breathed more freely. D’Artagnan wiped his damp forehead and the king slid off his bed, saying, “Let us go.”

At this moment Laporte reappeared.

“Well?” asked the queen

“Well, madame,” replied the valet, “I followed them as far as the gates. They announced to all their comrades that they had seen the king and that the queen had spoken to them; and, in fact, they went away quite proud and happy.”

“Oh, the miserable wretches!” murmured the queen, “they shall pay dearly for their boldness, and it is I who promise this.”

Then turning to D’Artagnan, she said:

“Sir, you have given me this evening the best advice I have ever received. Continue, and say what we must do now.”

“Monsieur Laporte,” said D’Artagnan, “finish dressing his majesty.”

“We may go, then?” asked the queen.

“Whenever your majesty pleases. You have only to descend by the private stairs and you will find me at the door.”

“Go, sir,” said the queen; “I will follow you.”

D’Artagnan went down and found the carriage at its post and the musketeer on the box. D’Artagnan took out the parcel which he had desired Bernouin to place under the seat. It may be remembered that it was the hat and cloak belonging to Monsieur de Gondy’s coachman.

He placed the cloak on his shoulders and the hat on his head, whilst the musketeer got off the box.

“Sir,” said D’Artagnan, “you will go and release your companion, who is guarding the coachman. You must mount your horse and proceed to the Rue Tiquetonne, Hotel de la Chevrette, whence you will take my horse and that of Monsieur du Vallon, which you must saddle and equip as if for war, and then you will leave Paris, bringing them with you to Cours la Reine. If, when you arrive at Cours la Reine, you find no one, you must go on to Saint Germain. On the king’s service.”

The musketeer touched his cap and went away to execute the orders thus received.

D’Artagnan mounted the box, having a pair of pistols in his belt, a musket under his feet and a naked sword behind him.

The queen appeared, and was followed by the king and the Duke d’Anjou, his brother.

“Monsieur the coadjutor’s carriage!” she exclaimed, falling back.

“Yes, madame,” said D’Artagnan; “but get in fearlessly, for I myself will drive you.”

The queen uttered a cry of surprise and entered the carriage, and the king and monsieur took their places at her side.

“Come, Laporte,” said the queen.

“How, madame!” said the valet, “in the same carriage as your majesties?”

“It is not a matter of royal etiquette this evening, but of the king’s safety. Get in, Laporte.”

Laporte obeyed.

“Pull down the blinds,” said D’Artagnan.

“But will that not excite suspicion, sir?” asked the queen.

“Your majesty’s mind may be quite at ease,” replied the officer; “I have my answer ready.”

The blinds were pulled down and they started at a gallop by the Rue Richelieu. On reaching the gate the captain of the post advanced at the head of a dozen men, holding a lantern in his hand.

D’Artagnan signed to them to draw near.

“Do you recognize the carriage?” he asked the sergeant.

“No,” replied the latter.

“Look at the arms.”

The sergeant put the lantern near the panel.

“They are those of monsieur le coadjuteur,” he said.

“Hush; he is enjoying a ride with Madame de Guemenee.”

The sergeant began to laugh.

“Open the gate,” he cried. “I know who it is!” Then putting his face to the lowered blinds, he said:

“I wish you joy, my lord!”

“Impudent fellow!” cried D’Artagnan, “you will get me turned off.”

The gate groaned on its hinges, and D’Artagnan, seeing the way clear, whipped his horses, who started at a canter, and five minutes later they had rejoined the cardinal.

“Mousqueton!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “draw up the blinds of his majesty’s carriage.”

“It is he!” cried Porthos.

“Disguised as a coachman!” exclaimed Mazarin.

“And driving the coadjutor’s carriage!” said the queen.

“Corpo di Dio! Monsieur d’Artagnan!” said Mazarin, “you are worth your weight in gold.”