The Vicomte de Bragelonne

  CHAPTER LVII.

  IN WHICH THE AUTHOR THINKS IT IS NOW TIME TO RETURN TO THE VICOMTE DEBRAGELONNE.

  Our readers will have observed in this story, the adventures of the newand of the past generation being detailed, as it were, side by side. Tothe former, the reflection of the glory of earlier years, the experienceof the bitter things of this world; to the former, also, that peacewhich takes possession of the heart, and that healing of the scars whichwere formerly deep and painful wounds. To the latter, the conflicts oflove and vanity; bitter disappointments and ineffable delights; lifeinstead of memory. If, therefore, any variety has been presented to thereader in the different episodes of this tale, it is to be attributed tothe numerous shades of color which are presented on this double palette,where two pictures are seen side by side, mingling and harmonizing theirsevere and pleasing tones. The repose of the emotions of the one isfound in the bosom of the emotions of the other. After having talkedreason with older heads, one loves to talk nonsense with youth.Therefore, if the threads of this story do not seem very intimately toconnect the chapter we are now writing with that we have just written,we do not intend to give ourselves any more thought or trouble about itthan Ruysdael took in painting an autumn sky, after having finished aspring-time scene. We wish our readers to do as much, and to resumeRaoul de Bragelonne's story at the very place where our last sketch lefthim.

  In a state of frenzy and dismay, or rather without power or will of hisown--without knowing what to do--he fled heedlessly away after the scenein La Valliere's room. The king, Montalais, Louise, that chamber, thatstrange exclusion, Louise's grief, Montalais's terror, the king'swrath--all seemed to indicate some misfortune. But what? He had arrivedfrom London because he had been told of the existence of a danger; andalmost on his arrival this appearance of danger was manifest. Was notthis sufficient for a lover? Certainly it was; but it was insufficientfor a pure and upright heart such as his. And yet Raoul did not seek forexplanations in the very quarter where all jealous or less timid loverswould have done. He did not go straightway to his mistress, and say,"Louise, is it true that you love me no longer? Is it true that you loveanother?" Full of courage, full of friendship as he was full of love; areligious observer of his word, and believing blindly the words ofothers, Raoul said within himself, "Guiche wrote to put me on my guard;Guiche knows something; I will go and ask Guiche what he knows, and tellhim what I have seen." The journey was not a long one. Guiche, who hadbeen brought, from Fontainebleau to Paris within the last two days, wasbeginning to recover from his wound, and to walk about a little in hisroom. He uttered a cry of joy as he saw Raoul, earnest in hisfriendship, enter his apartment. Raoul, too, had not been able torefrain from exclaiming aloud, when he saw De Guiche so pale, so thin,so melancholy. A very few words, and a simple gesture which De Guichemade to put aside Raoul's arm, were sufficient to inform the latter ofthe truth.

  "Ah! so it is," said Raoul, seating himself beside his friend: "oneloves and dies."

  "No, no, not dies," replied Guiche, smiling, "since I am now recovering,and since, too, I can press you in my arms."

  "Ah! I understand."

  "And I understand you, too. You fancy I am unhappy, Raoul?"

  "Alas!"

  "No; I am the happiest of men. My body suffers, but not my mind or myheart. If you only knew--Oh! I am, indeed, the very happiest of men."

  "So much the better," replied Raoul; "so much the better, provided itlasts."

  "It is over. I have had enough happiness to last me to my dying day,Raoul."

  "I have no doubt you have had; but she--"

  "Listen; I love her, because--but you are not listening to me."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "Your mind is preoccupied."

  "Yes; your health, in the first place--"

  "It is not that, I know."

  "My dear friend, you would be wrong, I think, to ask me anyquestions--_you_, of all persons in the world;" and he laid so muchweight upon the "you," that he completely enlightened his friend uponthe nature of the evil, and the difficulty of remedying it.

  "You say that, Raoul, on account of what I wrote to you."

  "Certainly. We will talk over that matter a little when you shall havefinished telling me of all your own pleasures and pains."

  "My dear friend. I am entirely at your service now."

  "Thank you; I have hurried, I have flown here; I came here in half thetime the government couriers usually take. Now, tell me, my dear friend,what did you want."

  "Nothing whatever, but to make you come."

  "Well, then, I am here."

  "All is quite right, then."

  "There must have been something else, I suppose?"

  "No, indeed."

  "De Guiche!"

  "Upon my honor!"

  "You cannot possibly have crushed all my hopes so violently, or haveexposed me to being disgraced by the king for my return, which is indisobedience of his orders--you cannot, I say, have planted jealousy inmy heart, merely to say to me, 'It is all right, be perfectly easy!'"

  "I do not say to you, Raoul, 'Be perfectly easy;' but pray understandme; I never will, nor can I, indeed, tell you anything else."

  "What sort of a person do you take me for?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you know anything, why conceal it from me? If you do not knowanything, why did you write so warningly?"

  "True, true, I was very wrong, and I regret having done so, Raoul. Itseems nothing to write to a friend and say 'Come;' but to have thisfriend face to face, to feel him tremble, and breathlessly and anxiouslywait to hear what one hardly dare tell him, is very different."

  "Dare! I have courage enough, if you have not," exclaimed Raoul, indespair.

  "See how unjust you are, and how soon you forget you have to do with apoor wounded fellow such as your unhappy friend is. So, calm yourself,Raoul. I said to you, 'Come'--you are here, so ask me nothing further."

  "Your object in telling me to come was your hope that I should see withmy own eyes, was it not? Nay, do not hesitate, for I have seen all."

  "Oh!" exclaimed De Guiche.

  "Or at least I thought--"

  "There now, you see you are not sure. But if you have any doubt, my poorfriend, what remains for me to do?"

  "I saw Louise much agitated--Montalais in a state of bewilderment--theking--"

  "The king?"

  "Yes. You turn your head aside. The danger is there, the evil is there;tell me, is it not so, is it not the king?"

  "I say nothing."

  "Oh! you say a thousand upon a thousand times more than nothing. Give mefacts, for pity's sake, give me proofs. My friend, the only friend Ihave, speak--tell me all. My heart is crushed, wounded to death; I amdying from despair."

  "If that really be so, as I see it is, indeed, dear Raoul," replied DeGuiche, "you relieve me from my difficulty, and I will tell you all,perfectly sure that I can tell you nothing but what is consoling,compared to the despair from which I now see you suffering."

  "Go on--go on; I am listening."

  "Well, then, I can only tell you what you can learn from every personyou meet."

  "From every one, do you say? It is talked about, then?"

  "Before you say people talk about it, learn what it is that people cantalk about. I assure you solemnly that people only talk about what may,in truth, be very innocent; perhaps a walk--"

  "Ah! a walk with the king?"

  "Yes, certainly, a walk with the king; and I believe the king hasalready very frequently before taken walks with ladies, without, on thataccount--"

  "You would not have written to me, shall I say again, if there had beennothing unusual in this promenade."

  "I know that while the storm lasted, it would have been far better ifthe king had taken shelter somewhere else, than to have remained withhis head uncovered before La Valliere; but the king is so very courteousand polite."

  "Oh! De Guiche, De Guiche, you are killing me!"

  "Do not le
t us talk any more, then."

  "Nay; let us continue. This walk was followed by others, I suppose?"

  "No--I mean yes; there was the adventure of the oak, I think. But I knownothing about the matter at all." Raoul rose; De Guiche endeavored toimitate him, notwithstanding his weakness. "Well, I will not add anotherword; I have said either too much or not enough. Let others give youfurther information if they will, or if they can; my duty was to warnyou, and that I have done. Watch over your own affairs now yourself."

  "Question others! Alas; you are no true friend to speak to me in thatmanner," said the young man, in utter distress. "The first man I maymeet may be evilly disposed or a fool; if the former, he will tell me alie to make me suffer more than I now do; if the latter, he will do farworse still. Ah! De Guiche, De Guiche, before two hours are over, Ishall have been told ten falsehoods, and shall have as many duels on myhands. Save me, then; is it not best to know the whole misfortune?"

  "But I know nothing, I tell you; I was wounded, attacked by fever; mysenses were gone, and I have only a very faint recollection of it all.But there is no reason why we should search very far, when the very manwe want is close at hand. Is not D'Artagnan your friend?"

  "Oh! true, true."

  "Go to him, then. He will be able to throw some light on the subject."At this moment a lackey entered the room. "What is it?" said De Guiche.

  "Some one is waiting for monseigneur in the Cabinet des Porcelaines."

  "Very well. Will you excuse me, my dear Raoul? I am so proud since Ihave been able to walk again."

  "I would offer you my arm, De Guiche, if I did not guess that the personin question is a lady."

  "I believe so," said De Guiche, smiling, as he quitted Raoul.

  Raoul remained motionless, absorbed in his grief, overwhelmed, like theminer upon whom a vault has just fallen in, wounded, his life-bloodwelling fast, his thoughts confused, endeavors to recover himself, andto save his life and to preserve his reason. A few minutes were allRaoul needed to dissipate the bewildering sensations which had beenoccasioned by these two revelations. He had already recovered the threadof his ideas, when, suddenly, through the door, he fancied he recognizedMontalais's voice in the Cabinet des Porcelaines. "She!" he cried. "Yes;it is indeed her voice! She will be able to tell me the whole truth; butshall I question her here? She conceals herself even from me; she iscoming no doubt from Madame. I will see her in her own apartment. Shewill explain her alarm, her flight, the strange manner in which I wasdriven out; she will tell me all that--after M. d'Artagnan, who knowseverything, shall have given me fresh strength and courage. Madame, acoquette, I fear, and yet a coquette who is herself in love, has hermoments of kindness; a coquette who is as capricious and uncertain aslife or death, but who tells De Guiche that he is the happiest of men.He at least is lying on roses." And so he hastily quitted the comte'sapartments, and reproaching himself as he went for having talked ofnothing but his own affairs to De Guiche, he arrived at D'Artagnan'squarters.