The Vicomte de Bragelonne

  CHAPTER CVI.

  CAPTIVE AND JAILERS.

  When they had entered the fort, and while the governor was making somepreparations for the reception of his guests--"Come," said Athos, "letus have a word of explanation while we are alone.

  "It is simply this," replied the musketeer. "I have conducted hither aprisoner, who the king commands shall not be seen. You came here, he hasthrown something to you through the lattice of the window; I was atdinner with the governor, I saw the object thrown, and I saw Raoul pickit up. It does not take long to understand this. I understood it; and Ithought you in intelligence with my prisoner. And then--"

  "And then--you commanded us to be shot."

  "Ma foi! I admit it; but if I was the first to seize a musket,fortunately I was the last to take aim at you."

  "If you had killed me, D'Artagnan, I should have had the good fortune todie for the royal house of France, and it would be an honor to die byyour hand--you, its noblest and most loyal defender."

  "What the devil, Athos, do you mean by the royal house?" stammeredD'Artagnan. "You don't mean that you, a well-informed and sensible man,can place any faith in the nonsense written by an idiot?"

  "I do believe in it."

  "With so much the more reason, my dear chevalier, from your havingorders to kill all those who do believe in it," said Raoul.

  "That is because," replied the captain of the musketeers--"because everycalumny, however absurd it may be, has the almost certain chance ofbecoming popular."

  "No, D'Artagnan," replied Athos, promptly; "but because the king is notwilling that the secret of his family should transpire among the people,and cover with shame the executioners of the son of Louis XIII."

  "Do not talk in such a childish manner, Athos, or I shall begin to thinkyou have lost your senses. Besides, explain to me how it is possibleLouis XIII. should have a son in the Isle of Sainte-Marguerite?"

  "A son whom you have brought hither masked, in a fishing boat," saidAthos. "Why not?"

  D'Artagnan was brought to a pause.

  "Ah! ah!" said he: "whence do you know that a fishing boat--"

  "Brought you to Sainte-Marguerite's with the carriage containing theprisoner--with a prisoner whom you styled monseigneur. Oh! I amacquainted with all that," resumed the comte. D'Artagnan bit hismustache.

  "If it were true," said he, "that I had brought hither in a boat andwith a carriage a masked prisoner, nothing proves that this prisonermust be a prince--a prince of the house of France?"

  "Oh! ask that of Aramis," replied Athos coolly.

  "Of Aramis!" cried the musketeer, quite at a stand. "Have you seenAramis?"

  "After his discomfiture at Vaux, yes; I have seen Aramis, a fugitive,pursued, ruined; and Aramis has told me enough to make me believe in thecomplaints that this unfortunate young man cut upon the bottom of theplate."

  D'Artagnan's head sunk upon his breast with confusion. "This is theway," said he, "in which God turns to nothing that which men call theirwisdom? A fine secret must that be of which twelve or fifteen personshold the tattered fragments! Athos, cursed be the chance which hasbrought you face to face with me in this affair: for now--"

  "Well," said Athos, with his customary mild severity, "is your secretlost because I know it? Consult your memory, my friend. Have I notborne secrets as heavy as this?"

  "You have never borne one so dangerous," replied D'Artagnan, in a toneof sadness. "I have something like a sinister idea that all who areconcerned with this secret will die, and die unfortunately."

  "The will of God be done!" said Athos, "but here is your governor."

  D'Artagnan and his friends immediately resumed their parts. Thegovernor, suspicious and hard, behaved toward D'Artagnan with apoliteness almost amounting to obsequiousness. With respect to thetravelers, he contented himself with offering them good cheer, and nevertaking his eye from them. Athos and Raoul observed that he often triedto embarrass them by sudden attacks, or to catch them off their guard;but neither the one nor the other gave him the least advantage. WhatD'Artagnan had said was probable, if the governor did not believe it tobe quite true. They rose from the table to impose awhile.

  "What is this man's name? I don't like the looks of him," said Athos toD'Artagnan in Spanish.

  "De Saint-Mars," replied the captain.

  "He is then, I suppose, the prince's jailer?"

  "Eh! how can I tell? I may be kept at Sainte-Marguerite forever."

  "Oh! no, not you!"

  "My friend, I am in the situation of a man who finds a treasure in themidst of a desert. He would like to carry it away, but he cannot; hewould like to leave it, but he dares not. The king will not dare torecall me, for fear no one else should serve him as faithfully as Ishould; he regrets not having me near him, from being aware that no onewill be of so much service near his person as myself. But it will happenas it may please God."

  "But," observed Raoul, "your not being certain proves that yoursituation here is provisional, and you will return to Paris?"

  "Ask these gentlemen," interrupted the governor, "what was their purposein coming to Sainte-Marguerite?"

  "They came from learning there was a convent of Benedictines atSainte-Honorat which is considered curious; and from being told therewas excellent shooting in the island."

  "That is quite at their service, as well as yours," replied Saint-Mars.

  D'Artagnan politely thanked him.

  "When will they depart?" added the governor.

  "To-morrow," replied D'Artagnan.

  M. de Saint-Mars went to make his rounds, and left D'Artagnan alone withthe pretended Spaniards.

  "Oh!" exclaimed the musketeer, "here is a life with a society that suitsme but little. I command this man, and he bores me, mordioux! Come, letus have a shot or two at the rabbits: the walk will be beautiful, andnot fatiguing. The isle is but a league and a half in length, upon abreadth of a league; a real park. Let us try to amuse ourselves."

  "As you please, D'Artagnan; not for the sake of amusing ourselves, butto gain an opportunity for talking freely."

  D'Artagnan made a sign to a soldier, who brought the gentlemen someguns, and then returned to the fort.

  "And now," said the musketeer, "answer me the question put to you bythat black-looking Saint-Mars. What did you come to do at the LerinIsles?"

  "To bid you farewell."

  "Bid me farewell! What do you mean by that? Is Raoul going anywhere?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I will lay a wager it is with M. de Beaufort."

  "With M. de Beaufort it is, my dear friend; you always guess rightly."

  "From habit."

  While the two friends were commencing their conversation, Raoul, withhis head hanging down and his heart oppressed, seated himself on a mossyrock, his gun across his knees, looking at the sea--looking at theheavens, and listening to the voice of his soul--he allowed thesportsmen to attain a considerable distance from him. D'Artagnanremarked his absence.

  "He has not recovered the blow," said he to Athos.

  "He is struck to death."

  "Oh! your fears exaggerate, I hope. Raoul is of a fine nature. Aroundall hearts so noble as his there is a second envelope which forms acuirass. The first bleeds, the second resists."

  "No," replied Athos. "Raoul will die of it."

  "Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan, in a melancholy tone. And he did not add aword to this exclamation. Then, a minute after. "Why do you let him go?"

  "Because he insists upon going."

  "And why do you not go with him?"

  "Because I could not bear to see him die."

  D'Artagnan looked his friend earnestly in the face. "You know onething," continued the comte, leaning upon the arm of the captain; "youknow that in the course of my life I have been afraid of but few things.Well! I have an incessant, gnawing, insurmountable fear that a day willarrive in which I shall hold the dead body of that boy in my arms."

  "Oh!" murmured D'Artagnan; "oh!"

  "He will die, I know.
I have a perfect conviction of that; but I wouldnot see him die."

  "How is this, Athos? you come and place yourself in the presence of thebravest man you say you have ever seen, of your own D'Artagnan, of thatman without an equal, as you formerly called him, and you come and tellhim with your arms folded that you are afraid of witnessing the death ofyour son, you who have seen all that can be seen in this world! Why haveyou this fear, Athos? Man upon this earth must expect everything andought to face everything."

  "Listen to me, my friend. After having worn myself out upon this earthof which you speak, I have preserved but two religions: that of life, myfriendships, my duty as a father--that of eternity, love and respect forGod. Now, I have within me the revelation that if God should decree thatmy friend or my son should render up his last sigh in my presence--oh,no, I cannot even tell you, D'Artagnan!"

  "Speak, speak, tell me!"

  "I am strong against everything, except against the death of those Ilove. For that only there is no remedy. He who dies, gains; he who seesothers die, loses. No; this it is--to know that I should no more meetupon earth him whom I now behold with joy; to know that there wouldnowhere be a D'Artagnan any more, nowhere again be a Raoul, oh! I amold, see you, I have no longer courage; I pray God to spare me in myweakness; but if He struck me so plainly and in that fashion, I shouldcurse Him. A Christian gentleman ought not to curse his God, D'Artagnan;it is quite enough to have cursed a king."

  "Humph!" said D'Artagnan, a little confused by this violent tempest ofgrief. "Let me speak to him, Athos. Who knows?"

  "Try, if you please, but I am convinced you will not succeed."

  "I will not attempt to console him, I will serve him."

  "You will?"

  "Doubtless, I will. Do you think this would be the first time a womanhad repented of an infidelity? I will go to him, I tell you."

  Athos shook his head, and continued his walk alone. D'Artagnan, cuttingacross the brambles, rejoined Raoul, and held out his hand to him."Well, Raoul! you have something to say to me?"

  "I have a kindness to ask of you," replied Bragelonne.

  "Ask it, then."

  "You will some day return to France?"

  "I hope so."

  "Ought I to write to Mademoiselle de la Valliere?"

  "No; you must not."

  "But I have so many things to say to her."

  "Come and say them to her, then."

  "Never!"

  "Pray, what virtue do you attribute to a letter which your speech mightnot possess?"

  "Perhaps you are right."

  "She loves the king," said D'Artagnan, bluntly; "and she is an honestgirl."

  Raoul started. "And you, you! whom she abandons, she, perhaps, lovesbetter than she does the king, but after another fashion."

  "D'Artagnan, do you believe she loves the king?"

  "To idolatry. Her heart is inaccessible to any other feeling. You mightcontinue to live near her, and would be her best friend."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Raoul, with a passionate burst of repugnance for such apainful hope.

  "Will you do so?"

  "It would be base."

  "That is a very absurd word, which would lead me to think slightly ofyour understanding. Please to understand, Raoul, that it is never baseto do that which is imposed by a superior force. If your heart says toyou, 'Go there, or die,' why, go there, Raoul. Was she base or brave,she whom you loved, in preferring the king to you, the king whom herheart commanded her imperiously to prefer to you? No, she was thebravest of women. Do, then, as she has done. Obey yourself. Do you knowone thing of which I am sure, Raoul?"

  "What is that?"

  "Why, that by seeing her closely with the eyes of a jealous man--"

  "Well?"

  "Well! You would cease to love her."

  "Then I am decided, my dear D'Artagnan."

  "To set off to see her again?"

  "No; to set off that I may never see her again. I wish to love herforever."

  "Humph! I must confess," replied the musketeer, "that is a conclusionwhich I was far from expecting."

  "This is what I wish, my friend. You will see her again, and you willgive her a letter which, if you think proper, will explain to her as toyourself, what is passing in my heart. Read it; I prepared it lastnight. Something told me I should see you to-day." He held the letterout, and D'Artagnan read it:

  "MADEMOISELLE--You are not wrong in my eyes in not loving me. You have only been guilty of one fault toward me, that of having left me to believe you loved me. This error will cost me my life. I pardon you, but I cannot pardon myself. It is said that happy lovers are deaf to the complaints of rejected lovers. It will not be so with you who did not love me, except with anxiety. I am sure that if I had persisted in endeavoring to change that friendship into love, you would have yielded out of a fear of bringing about my death, or of lessening the esteem I had for you. It is much more delightful to me to die, knowing you are free and satisfied. How much, then, will you love me, when you will no longer fear either my presence or my reproaches! You will love me, because, however charming a new love may appear to you, God has not made me in anything inferior to him you have chosen, and because my devotedness, my sacrifice, and my painful end will assure me, in your eyes, a certain superiority over him. I have allowed to escape, in the candid credulity of my heart, the treasure I possessed. Many people tell me that you loved me enough to lead me to hope you would have loved me much. That idea takes from my mind all bitterness, and leads me only to blame myself. You will accept this last farewell, and you will bless me for having taken refuge in the inviolable asylum where all hatred is extinguished, and where all love endures forever. Adieu, mademoiselle. If your happiness could be purchased by the last drop of my blood, I would shed that drop. I willingly make the sacrifice of it to my misery!

  "RAOUL, VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE."

  "The letter is very well," said the captain. "I have only one fault tofind with it."

  "Tell me what that is?" said Raoul.

  "Why, it is, that it tells everything, except the thing which exhales,like a mortal poison, from your eyes and from your heart; except thesenseless love which still consumes you." Raoul grew paler, but remainedsilent.

  "Why did you not write simply these words:

  "'Mademoiselle--Instead of cursing you, I love you and I die.'"

  "That is true," exclaimed Raoul, with a sinister kind of joy.

  And tearing the letter he had just taken back, he wrote the followingwords upon a leaf of his tablets:

  "To procure the happiness of once more telling you I love you, I committhe baseness of writing to you; and to punish myself for that baseness,I die." And he signed it.

  "You will give her these tablets, captain, will you not?"

  "When?" asked the latter.

  "On the day," said Bragelonne, pointing to the last sentence, "on theday when you can place a date under these words." And he sprang awayquickly to join Athos, who was returning with slow steps.

  As they re-entered the fort, the sea rose with that rapid, gustyvehemence which characterizes the Mediterranean; the ill humor of theelement became a tempest. Something shapeless, and tossed aboutviolently by the waves, appeared just off the coast.

  "What is that?" said Athos--"a wrecked boat?"

  "No, it is not a boat," said D'Artagnan.

  "Pardon me," said Raoul, "there is a bark gaining the port rapidly."

  "Yes, there is a bark in the creek, which is prudently seeking shelterhere; but that which Athos points to in the sand is not a boat atall--it has run aground."

  "Yes, yes, I see it."

  "It is the carriage which I threw into the sea, after landing theprisoner."

  "Well!" said Athos, "if you will take my advice, D'Artagnan, you willburn that carriage, in order that no vestige of it may remain, withoutwhich the fishermen of Antibes, who h
ave believed they had to do withthe devil, will endeavor to prove that your prisoner was but a man."

  "Your advice is good, Athos, and I will this night have it carried out,or rather, I will carry it out myself; but let us go in, for the rainfalls heavily, and the lightning is terrific."

  As they were passing over the ramparts to a gallery of which D'Artagnanhad the key, they saw M. de Saint-Mars directing his steps toward thechamber inhabited by the prisoner. Upon a sign from D'Artagnan, theyconcealed themselves in an angle of the staircase.

  "What is it?" said Athos.

  "You will see. Look. The prisoner is returning from chapel."

  And they saw, by the red flashes of the lightning against the violet fogwhich the wind stamped upon the bankward sky, they saw pass gravely, atsix paces behind the governor, a man clothed in black and masked by avizor of polished steel, soldered to a helmet of the same nature, whichaltogether enveloped the whole of his head. The fire of the heavens castred reflections upon the polished surface, and these reflections, flyingoff capriciously, seemed to be angry looks launched by this unfortunate,instead of imprecations. In the middle of the gallery, the prisonerstopped for a moment, to contemplate the infinite horizon, to respirethe sulphurous perfumes of the tempest, to drink in thirstily the hotrain, and to breathe a sigh resembling a smothered roar.

  "Come on, monsieur," said Saint-Mars, sharply to the prisoner, for healready became uneasy at seeing him look so long beyond the walls."Monsieur, come on!"

  "Say monseigneur!" cried Athos, from his corner, with a voice so solemnand terrible, that the governor trembled from head to foot. Athosinsisted upon respect being paid to fallen majesty. The prisoner turnedround.

  "Who spoke?" asked Saint-Mars.

  "It was I," replied D'Artagnan, showing himself promptly. "You know thatis the order."

  "Call me neither Monsieur nor Monseigneur," said the prisoner in histurn, in a voice that penetrated to the very soul of Raoul; "call meACCURSED!" He passed on, and the iron door creaked after him.

  "That is truly an unfortunate man!" murmured the musketeer in a hollowwhisper, pointing-out to Raoul the chamber inhabited by the prince.