Two days after the events we have just related, and while General Monkwas expected every minute in the camp to which he did not return, alittle Dutch felucca, manned by eleven men, cast anchor upon the coastof Scheveningen, nearly within cannon-shot of the port. It was night,the darkness was great, the tide rose in the darkness; it was a capitaltime to land passengers and merchandise.
The road of Scheveningen forms a vast crescent; it is not very deepand not very safe; therefore, nothing is seen stationed there but largeFlemish hoys, or some of those Dutch barks which fishermen draw up onthe sand on rollers, as the ancients did, according to Virgil. When thetide is rising, and advancing on land, it is not prudent to bring thevessels too close inshore, for, if the wind is fresh, the prows areburied in the sand; and the sand of that coast is spongy; it receiveseasily, but does not yield so well. It was on this account, no doubt,that a boat was detached from the bark as soon as the latter had castanchor, and came with eight sailors, amidst whom was to be seen anobject of an oblong form, a sort of large pannier or bale.
The shore was deserted; the few fishermen inhabiting the down were goneto bed. The only sentinel that guarded the coast (a coast very badlyguarded, seeing that a landing from large ships was impossible), withouthaving been able to follow the example of the fishermen, who were goneto bed, imitated them so far, that he slept at the back of his watch-boxas soundly as they slept in their beds. The only noise to be heard,then, was the whistling of the night breeze among the bushes andthe brambles of the downs. But the people who were approaching weredoubtless mistrustful people, for this real silence and apparentsolitude did not satisfy them. Their boat, therefore, scarcely asvisible as a dark speck upon the ocean, glided along noiselessly,avoiding the use of their oars for fear of being heard, and gained thenearest land.
Scarcely had it touched the ground when a single man jumped out of theboat, after having given a brief order, in a manner which denoted thehabit of commanding. In consequence of this order, several musketsimmediately glittered in the feeble light reflected from that mirror ofthe heavens, the sea; and the oblong bale of which we spoke, containingno doubt some contraband object, was transported to land, with infiniteprecautions. Immediately after that, the man who had landed first setoff at a rapid pace diagonally towards the village of Scheveningen,directing his course to the nearest point of the wood. When there, hesought for that house already described as the temporary residence--anda very humble residence--of him who was styled by courtesy king ofEngland.
All were asleep there, as everywhere else, only a large dog, of the raceof those which the fishermen of Scheveningen harness to little cartsto carry fish to the Hague, began to bark formidably as soon as thestranger's steps were audible beneath the windows. But the watchfulness,instead of alarming the newly-landed man, appeared, on the contrary, togive him great joy, for his voice might perhaps have proved insufficientto rouse the people of the house, whilst, with an auxiliary of thatsort, his voice became almost useless. The stranger waited, then,till these reiterated and sonorous barkings should, according to allprobability, have produced their effect, and then he ventured a summons.On hearing his voice, the dog began to roar with such violence thatanother voice was soon heard from the interior, quieting the dog. Withthat the dog was quieted.
"What do you want?" asked that voice, at the same time weak, broken, andcivil.
"I want his majesty King Charles II., king of England," said thestranger.
"What do you want with him?"
"I want to speak to him."
"Who are you?"
"Ah! Mordioux! you ask too much; I don't like talking through doors."
"Only tell me your name."
"I don't like to declare my name in the open air, either; besides, youmay be sure I shall not eat your dog, and I hope to God he will be asreserved with respect to me."
"You bring news, perhaps, monsieur, do you not?" replied the voice,patient and querulous as that of an old man.
"I will answer for it, I bring you news you little expect. Open thedoor, then, if you please, hein!"
"Monsieur," persisted the old man, "do you believe, upon your soul andconscience, that your news is worth waking the king?"
"For God's sake, my dear monsieur, draw your bolts; you will not besorry, I swear, for the trouble it will give you. I am worth my weightin gold, parole d'honneur!"
"Monsieur, I cannot open the door till you have told me your name."
"Must I, then?"
"It is by the order of my master, monsieur."
"Well, my name is--but, I warn you, my name will tell you absolutelynothing."
"Never mind, tell it, notwithstanding."
"Well, I am the Chevalier d'Artagnan."
The voice uttered an exclamation.
"Oh! good heavens!" said a voice on the other side of the door."Monsieur d'Artagnan. What happiness! I could not help thinking I knewthat voice."
"Humph!" said D'Artagnan. "My voice is known here! That's flattering."
"Oh! yes, we know it," said the old man, drawing the bolts; "and here isthe proof." And at these words he let in D'Artagnan, who, by thelight of the lantern he carried in his hand, recognized his obstinateinterlocutor.
"Ah! Mordioux!" cried he: "why, it is Parry! I ought to have knownthat."
"Parry, yes, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, it is I. What joy to see youonce again!"
"You are right there, what joy!" said D'Artagnan, pressing the old man'shand. "There, now you'll go and inform the king, will you not?"
"But the king is asleep, my dear monsieur."
"Mordioux! then wake him. He won't scold you for having disturbed him, Iwill promise you."
"You come on the part of the count, do you not?"
"The Comte de la Fere?"
"From Athos?"
"Ma foi! no; I come on my own part. Come, Parry, quick! The king--I wantthe king."
Parry did not think it his duty to resist any longer; he knew D'Artagnanof old; he knew that, although a Gascon, his words never promisedmore than they could stand to. He crossed a court and a little garden,appeased the dog, that seemed most anxious to taste of the musketeer'sflesh, and went to knock at the window of a chamber forming theground-floor of a little pavilion. Immediately a little dog inhabitingthat chamber replied to the great dog inhabiting the court.
"Poor king!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "these are his body-guards. Itis true he is not the worse guarded on that account."
"What is wanted with me?" asked the king, from the back of the chamber.
"Sire, it is M. le Chevalier d'Artagnan, who brings you some news."
A noise was immediately heard in the chamber, a door was opened, anda flood of light inundated the corridor and the garden. The king wasworking by the light of a lamp. Papers were lying about upon his desk,and he had commenced the foul copy of a letter which showed, by thenumerous erasures, the trouble he had had in writing it.
"Come in, monsieur le chevalier," said he, turning around. Thenperceiving the fisherman, "What do you mean, Parry? Where is M. leChevalier d'Artagnan?" asked Charles.
"He is before you, sire," said M. d'Artagnan.
"What, in that costume?"
"Yes; look at me, sire; do you not remember having seen me at Blois, inthe ante-chambers of King Louis XIV.?"
"Yes, monsieur, and I remember I was much pleased with you."
D'Artagnan bowed. "It was my duty to behave as I did, the moment I knewthat I had the honor of being near your majesty."
"You bring me news, do you say?"
"Yes, sire."
"From the king of France?"
"Ma foi! no, sire," replied D'Artagnan. "Your majesty must have seenyonder that the king of France is only occupied with his own majesty."
Charles raised his eyes towards heaven.
"No, sire, no," continued D'Artagnan. "I bring news entirely composedof personal facts. Nevertheless, I hope your majesty will listen to thefacts and news with some favor."
"Speak, monsieur."
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"If I am not mistaken, sire, your majesty spoke a great deal, at Blois,of the embarrassed state in which the affairs of England are."
Charles colored. "Monsieur," said he, "it was to the king of France Irelated----"
"Oh! your majesty is mistaken," said the musketeer, coolly; "I know howto speak to kings in misfortune. It is only when they are in misfortunethat they speak to me; once fortunate, they look upon me no more. Ihave, then, for your majesty, not only the greatest respect, but, stillmore, the most absolute devotion; and that, believe me, with me, sire,means something. Now, hearing your majesty complain of fate, I foundthat you were noble and generous, and bore misfortune well."
"In truth," said Charles, much astonished, "I do not know which I oughtto prefer, your freedoms or your respects."
"You will choose presently, sire," said D'Artagnan. "Then yourmajesty complained to your brother, Louis XIV., of the difficulty youexperienced in returning to England and regaining your throne for wantof men and money."
Charles allowed a movement of impatience to escape him.
"And the principal object your majesty found in your way," continuedD'Artagnan, "was a certain general commanding the armies of theparliament, and who was playing yonder the part of another Cromwell. Didnot your majesty say so?"
"Yes, but I repeat to you, monsieur, those words were for the king'sears alone."
"And you will see, sire, that it is very fortunate that they fell intothose of his lieutenant of musketeers. That man so troublesome toyour majesty was one General Monk, I believe; did I not hear his namecorrectly, sire?"
"Yes, monsieur, but once more, to what purpose are all these questions?"
"Oh! I know very well, sire, that etiquette will not allow kings tobe questioned. I hope, however, presently you will pardon my want ofetiquette. Your majesty added that, notwithstanding, if you could seehim, confer with him, and meet him face to face, you would triumph,either by force or persuasion, over that obstacle--the only seriousone, the only insurmountable one, the only real one you met with on yourroad."
"All that is true, monsieur: my destiny, my future, my obscurity, or myglory depend upon that man; but what do you draw from that?"
"One thing alone, that if this General Monk is troublesome to the pointyour majesty describes, it would be expedient to get rid of him or tomake an ally of him."
"Monsieur, a king who has neither army nor money, as you have heard myconversation with my brother Louis, has no means of acting against a manlike Monk."
"Yes, sire, that was your opinion, I know very well; but, fortunately,for you, it was not mine."
"What do you mean by that?"
"That, without an army and without a million, I have done--I,myself--what your majesty thought could alone be done with an army and amillion."
"How! What do you say? What have you done?"
"What have I done? Eh! well, sire, I went yonder to take this man who isso troublesome to your majesty."
"In England?"
"Exactly, sire."
"You went to take Monk in England?"
"Should I by chance have done wrong, sire?"
"In truth, you are mad, monsieur!"
"Not the least in the world, sire."
"You have taken Monk?"
"Yes, sire."
"Where?"
"In the midst of his camp."
The king trembled with impatience.
"And having taken him on the causeway of Newcastle, I bring him to yourmajesty," said D'Artagnan, simply.
"You bring him to me!" cried the king, almost indignant at what heconsidered a mystification.
"Yes, sire," replied D'Artagnan, the same tone, "I bring him to you;he is down below yonder, in a large chest pierced with holes, so as toallow him to breathe."
"Good God!"
"Oh! don't be uneasy, sire, we have taken the greatest possible careof him. He comes in good state, and in perfect condition. Would yourmajesty please to see him, to talk with him, or to have him thrown intothe sea?"
"Oh, heavens!" repeated Charles, "oh, heavens! do you speak the truth,monsieur? Are you not insulting me with some unworthy joke? You haveaccomplished this unheard-of act of audacity and genius--impossible!"
"Will your majesty permit me to open the window?" said D'Artagnan,opening it.
The king had not time to reply, yes on no. D'Artagnan gave a shrill andprolonged whistle, which he repeated three times through the silence ofthe night.
"There!" said he, "he will be brought to your majesty."
CHAPTER 29. In which D'Artagnan begins to fear he has placed his Moneyand that of Planchet in the Sinking Fund