CHAPTER C.
THE LAST ADIEUX.
Raoul uttered a cry, and affectionately embraced Porthos. Aramis andAthos embraced like old men; and this embrace itself being a questionfor Aramis, he immediately said: "My friend, we have not long to remainwith you."
"Ah!" said the comte.
"Only time to tell you of my good fortune," interrupted Porthos.
"Ah!" said Raoul.
Athos looked silently at Aramis, whose somber air had already appearedto him very little in harmony with the good news Porthos spoke of.
"What is the good fortune that has happened to you? Let us hear it,"said Raoul, with a smile.
"The king has made me a duke," said the worthy Porthos, with an air ofmystery, in the ear of the young man, "a duke by _brevet_."
But the _asides_ of Porthos were always loud enough to be heard byeverybody. His murmurs were in the diapason of ordinary roaring. Athosheard him, and uttered an exclamation which made Aramis start. Thelatter took Athos by the arm, and, after having asked Porthos'permission to say a word to his friend in private, "My dear Athos," hebegan, "you see me overwhelmed with grief."
"With grief, my dear friend?" cried the comte; "oh, what?"
"In two words. I have raised a conspiracy against the king; thatconspiracy has failed, and, at this moment, I am doubtless pursued."
"You are pursued!--a conspiracy! Eh! my friend, what do you tell me?"
"A sad truth. I am entirely ruined."
"Well, but Porthos--this title of duke--what does all that mean?"
"That is the subject of my severest pain; that is the deepest of mywounds. I have, believing in an infallible success, drawn Porthos intomy conspiracy. He has thrown himself into it as you know he would do,with all his strength, without knowing what he was about; and now, he isas much compromised as myself--as completely ruined as I am."
"Good God!" And Athos turned toward Porthos, who was smilingcomplacently.
"I must make you acquainted with the whole. Listen to me," continuedAramis; and he related the history as we know it. Athos, during therecital, several times felt the sweat break from his forehead. "It was agreat idea," said he, "but a great error."
"For which I am punished, Athos."
"Therefore I will not tell you my entire thought."
"Tell it, nevertheless."
"It is a crime."
"Capital, I know it is. _Lese majeste_."
"Porthos! poor Porthos!"
"What would you advise me to do? Success, as I have told you, wascertain."
"M. Fouquet is an honest man."
"And I am a fool for having so ill judged of him," said Aramis. "Oh, thewisdom of man! Oh, vast millstone which grinds a world! and which is oneday stopped by a grain of sand which has fallen, no one knows how, inits wheels."
"Say, by a diamond, Aramis. But the thing is done. How do you think ofacting?"
"I am taking away Porthos. The king will never believe that that worthyman has acted innocently. He never can believe that Porthos has thoughthe was serving the king, while acting as he has done. His head would payfor my fault. It shall not be so."
"You are taking him away, whither?"
"To Belle-Isle, at first. That is an impregnable place of refuge. Then Ihave the sea, and a vessel to pass over into England, where I have manyrelations."
"You? In England?"
"Yes, or else in Spain, where I have still more."
"But, our excellent Porthos! you ruin him, for the king will confiscateall his property."
"All is provided for. I know how, when once in Spain, to reconcilemyself with Louis XIV. and restore Porthos to favor."
"You have credit, seemingly, Aramis!" said Athos, with a discreet air.
"Much; and at the service of my friends."
These words were accompanied by a warm pressure of the hand.
"Thank you," replied the comte.
"And while we are on that head," said Aramis, "you also are amalcontent; you also, Raoul, have griefs to lay to the king. Follow ourexample; pass over into Belle-Isle. Then we shall see, I guarantee uponmy honor, that in a month there will be war between France and Spain onthe subject of this son of Louis XIII., who is an infante likewise, andwhom France detains inhumanly. Now, as Louis XIV. would have noinclination for a war on that subject, I will answer for a transaction,the result of which must bring greatness to Porthos and to me, and aduchy in France to you, who are already a grandee of Spain. Will youjoin us?"
"No; for my part I prefer having something to reproach the king with; itis a pride natural to my race to pretend to a superiority over royalraces. Doing what you propose, I should become the obliged of the king;I should certainly be the gainer on that ground, but I should be a loserin my conscience.--No, thank you!"
"Then, give me two things, Athos--your absolution."
"Oh! I give it you if you have really wished to avenge the weak and theoppressed against the oppressor."
"That is sufficient for me," said Aramis, with a blush which was lost inthe obscurity of the night. "And now, give me your two best horses togain the second post, as I have been refused any under the pretext ofthe Duc de Beaufort being traveling in this country."
"You shall have the two best horses, Aramis; and I again recommendPorthos strongly to you."
"Oh; have no fear on that head. One word more: do you think I ammaneuvering for him as I ought?"
"The evil being committed, yes; for the king would not pardon him, andyou have, whatever may be said, always a supporter in M. Fouquet, whowill not abandon you, he being himself compromised, notwithstanding hisheroic action."
"You are right. And that is why, instead of gaining the sea at once,which would proclaim my fear and guilt, that is why I remain upon Frenchground. But Belle-Isle will be for me whatever ground I wish it to be.English, Spanish, or Roman; all will consist, with me, in the standard Ishall think proper to unfurl."
"How so?"
"It was I who fortified Belle-Isle; and, while I defend it, nobody cantake Belle-Isle from me. And then, as you have said just now, M. Fouquetis there. Belle-Isle will not be attacked without the signature of M.Fouquet."
"That is true. Nevertheless, be prudent. The king is both cunning andstrong." Aramis smiled.
"I again recommend Porthos to you," repeated the comte, with a sort ofcold persistence.
"Whatever becomes of me, comte," replied Aramis, in the same tone, "ourbrother Porthos will fare as I do."
Athos bowed while pressing the hand of Aramis, and turned to embracePorthos with much emotion.
"I was born lucky, was I not?" murmured the latter, transported withhappiness, as he folded his cloak round him.
"Come, my dear friend," said Aramis.
Raoul was gone out to give orders for the saddling of the horses. Thegroup was already divided. Athos saw his two friends on the point ofdeparture, and something like a mist passed before his eyes and weighedupon his heart.
"It is strange," thought he, "whence comes the inclination I feel toembrace Porthos once more"--At that moment Porthos turned round, and hecame toward his old friend with open arms. This last endearment wastender as in youth, as in times when the heart was warm, and lifehappy. And then Porthos mounted his horse. Aramis came back once more tothrow his arms round the neck of Athos. The latter watched them alongthe high road, elongated by the shade, in their white cloaks. Like twophantoms they seemed to be enlarged on departing from the earth, and itwas not in the mist, but in the declivity of the ground that theydisappeared. At the end of the perspective, both seemed to have given aspring with their feet, which made them vanish as if evaporated into theclouds.
Then Athos, with an oppressed heart, returned toward the house, sayingto Bragelonne, "Raoul, I don't know what it is that has just told methat I have seen these two men for the last time."
"It does not astonish me, monsieur, that you should have such athought," replied the young man, "for I have at this moment the same,and think also that I shall never see MM
. de Valon and d'Herblay again."
"Oh! you," replied the comte, "you speak like a man rendered sad byanother cause; you see everything in black; you are young and if youchance never to see those old friends again, it will be because they nolonger exist in the world in which you have many years to pass. But I--"
Raoul shook his head sadly, and leaned upon the shoulder of the comte,without either of them finding another word in their hearts which wereready to overflow.
All at once a noise of horses and voices, from the extremity of the roadto Blois, attracted their attention that way. Flambeaux-bearers shooktheir torches merrily among the trees of their route, and turned round,from time to time, to avoid distancing the horsemen who followed them.These flames, this noise, this dust of a dozen richly caparisonedhorses, formed a strange contrast in the middle of the night with themelancholy funereal disappearance of the two shadows of Aramis andPorthos. Athos went toward the house; but he had hardly reached theparterre, when the entrance gate appeared in a blaze; all the flambeauxstopped and appeared to enflame the road. A cry was heard of "M. le Ducde Beaufort"--and Athos sprang toward the door of his house. But the duchad already alighted from his horse, and was looking around him.
"I am here, monseigneur," said Athos.
"Ah! good-evening, dear comte," said the prince, with that frankcordiality which won him so many hearts. "Is it too late for a friend?"
"Ah! my dear prince--come in!" said the comte.
And, M. de Beaufort leaning on the arm of Athos, they entered the house,followed by Raoul, who walked respectfully and modestly among theofficers of the prince, with several of whom he was acquainted.