Porthos and D'Artagnan had entered the bishop's residence by a privatedoor, as his personal friends. Of course, Porthos served D'Artagnan asguide. The worthy baron comported himself everywhere rather as if hewere at home. Nevertheless, whether it was a tacit acknowledgment of thesanctity of the personage of Aramis and his character, or the habit ofrespecting him who imposed upon him morally, a worthy habit which hadalways made Porthos a model soldier and an excellent companion; for allthese reasons, say we, Porthos preserved in the palace of His Greatnessthe Bishop of Vannes a sort of reserve which D'Artagnan remarked atonce, in the attitude he took with respect to the valets and officers.And yet this reserve did not go so far as to prevent his askingquestions. Porthos questioned. They learned that His Greatness hadjust returned to his apartment and was preparing to appear in familiarintimacy, less majestic than he had appeared with his flock. Aftera quarter of an hour, which D'Artagnan and Porthos passed in lookingmutually at each other with the white of their eyes, and turning theirthumbs in all the different evolutions which go from north to south, adoor of the chamber opened and His Greatness appeared, dressed in theundress, complete, of a prelate. Aramis carried his head high, like aman accustomed to command: his violet robe was tucked up on one side,and his white hand was on his hip. He had retained the fine mustache,and the lengthened royale of the time of Louis XIII. He exhaled, onentering, that delicate perfume which, among elegant men and womenof high fashion, never changes, and appears to be incorporated in theperson, of whom it has become the natural emanation. In this caseonly, the perfume had retained something of the religious sublimity ofincense. It no longer intoxicated, it penetrated; it no longer inspireddesire, it inspired respect. Aramis, on entering the chamber did nothesitate an instant; and without pronouncing one word, which, whateverit might be, would have been cold on such an occasion, he went straightup to the musketeer, so well disguised under the costume of M. Agnan,and pressed him in his arms with a tenderness which the most distrustfulcould not have suspected of coldness or affectation.
D'Artagnan, on his part, embraced him with equal ardor. Porthos pressedthe delicate hand of Aramis in his immense hands, and D'Artagnanremarked that His Greatness gave him his left hand, probably from habit,seeing that Porthos already ten times had been near injuring his fingerscovered with rings, by pounding his flesh in the vise of his fist.Warned by the pain, Aramis was cautious, and only presented flesh to bebruised, and not fingers to be crushed, against gold or the angles ofdiamonds.
Between two embraces, Aramis looked D'Artagnan in the face, offered hima chair, sitting down himself in the shade, observing that the lightfell full upon the face of his interlocutor. This maneuver, familiar todiplomatists and women, resembles much the advantage of the guard which,according to their skill or habit, combatants endeavor to take on theground at a duel. D'Artagnan was not the dupe of this maneuver, but hedid not appear to perceive it. He felt himself caught; but, precisely,because he was caught he felt himself on the road to discovery, andit little imported to him, old condottiere as he was, to be beaten inappearance, provided he drew from his pretended defeat the advantages ofvictory. Aramis began the conversation.
"Ah! dear friend! my good D'Artagnan," said he, "what an excellentchance!"
"It is a chance, my reverend companion," said D'Artagnan, "that I willcall friendship. I seek you, as I always have sought you, when I hadany grand enterprise to propose to you, or some hours of liberty to giveyou."
"Ah! indeed," said Aramis, without explosion, "you have been seekingme?"
"Eh! yes, he has been seeking you, Aramis," said Porthos, "and the proofis that he has unharbored me at Belle-Isle. That is amiable, is it not?"
"Ah! yes," said Aramis, "at Belle-Isle! certainly!"
"Good!" said D'Artagnan; "there is my booby Porthos, without thinking ofit, has fired the first cannon of attack."
"At Belle-Isle!" said Aramis, "in that hole, in that desert! That iskind, indeed!"
"And it was I who told him you were at Vannes," continued Porthos, inthe same tone.
D'Artagnan armed his mouth with a finesse almost ironical.
"Yes, I knew, but I was willing to see," replied he.
"To see what?"
"If our old friendship still held out, if, on seeing each other, ourhearts, hardened as they are by age, would still let the old cry of joyescape, which salutes the coming of a friend."
"Well, and you must have been satisfied," said Aramis.
"So, so."
"How is that?"
"Yes, Porthos said hush! and you----"
"Well! and I?"
"And you gave me your benediction."
"What would you have, my friend?" said Aramis, smiling; "that is themost precious thing that a poor prelate, like me, has to give."
"Indeed, my dear friend!"
"Doubtless."
"And yet they say at Paris that the bishopric of Vannes is one of thebest in France."
"Ah! you are now speaking of temporal wealth," said Aramis, with acareless air.
"To be sure, I wish to speak of that; I hold by it, on my part."
"In that case, let me speak of it," said Aramis, with a smile.
"You own yourself to be one of the richest prelates in France?"
"My friend, since you ask me to give you an account, I will tell youthat the bishopric of Vannes is worth about twenty thousand livres ayear, neither more nor less. It is a diocese which contains a hundredand sixty parishes."
"That is very pretty," said D'Artagnan.
"It is superb!" said Porthos.
"And yet," resumed D'Artagnan, throwing his eyes over Aramis, "you don'tmean to bury yourself here forever?"
"Pardon me. Only I do not admit the word bury."
"But it seems to me, that at this distance from Paris a man is buried,or nearly so."
"My friend, I am getting old," said Aramis; "the noise and bustle ofa city no longer suit me. At fifty-seven we ought to seek calm andmeditation. I have found them here. What is there more beautiful,and stern at the same time, than this old Armorica. I find here, dearD'Artagnan, all that is opposite to what I formerly loved, and that iswhat must happen at the end of life, which is opposite to the beginning.A little of my odd pleasure of former times still comes to salute mehere, now and then, without diverting me from the road of salvation. Iam still of this world, and yet every step that I take brings me nearerto God."
"Eloquent, wise and discreet; you are an accomplished prelate, Aramis,and I offer you my congratulations."
"But," said Aramis, smiling, "you did not come here only for the purposeof paying me compliments. Speak; what brings you hither! May it be that,in some fashion or other, you want me?"
"Thank God, no, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "it is nothing of thatkind.--I am rich and free."
"Rich!" exclaimed Aramis.
"Yes, rich for me; not for you or Porthos, understand. I have an incomeof about fifteen thousand livres."
Aramis looked at him suspiciously. He could not believe--particularlyon seeing his friend in such humble guise--that he had made so fine afortune. Then D'Artagnan, seeing that the hour of explanations was come,related the history of his English adventures. During the recital hesaw, ten times, the eyes of the prelate sparkle, and his slender fingerswork convulsively. As to Porthos, it was not admiration he manifestedfor D'Artagnan; it was enthusiasm, it was delirium. When D'Artagnan hadfinished, "Well!" said Aramis.
"Well!" said D'Artagnan, "you see, then, I have in England friends andproperty, in France a treasure. If your heart tells you so, I offer themto you. That is what I came here for."
However firm was his look, he could not this time support the look ofAramis. He allowed, therefore, his eye to stray upon Porthos--like thesword which yields to too powerful a pressure, and seeks another road.
"At all events," said the bishop, "you have assumed a singular travelingcostume, old friend."
"Frightful! I know it is. You may understand why I would not travel as acavalier or a nob
le; since I became rich, I am miserly."
"And you say, then, you came to Belle-Isle?" said Aramis, withouttransition.
"Yes," replied D'Artagnan; "I knew I should find you and Porthos there."
"Find me!" cried Aramis. "Me! for the last year past I have not oncecrossed the sea."
"Oh," said D'Artagnan, "I should never have supposed you such ahousekeeper."
"Ah, dear friend, I must tell you that I am no longer the Aramis offormer times. Riding on horseback is unpleasant to me; the sea fatiguesme. I am a poor, ailing priest, always complaining, always grumbling,and inclined to the austerities which appear to accord with oldage,--preliminary parlayings with death. I linger, my dear D'Artagnan, Ilinger."
"Well, that is all the better, my friend, for we shall probably beneighbors soon."
"Bah!" said Aramis with a degree of surprise he did not even seek todissemble. "You my neighbor!"
"Mordioux! yes."
"How so?"
"I am about to purchase some very profitable salt-mines, which aresituated between Pirial and Croisic. Imagine, my friend, a clear profitof twelve per cent. Never any deficiency, never any idle expenses; theocean, faithful and regular, brings every twelve hours its contingencyto my coffers. I am the first Parisian who has dreamt of such aspeculation. Do not say anything about it, I beg of you, and in a shorttime we will communicate on the matter. I am to have three leagues ofcountry for thirty thousand livres."
Aramis darted a look at Porthos, as if to ask if all this were true,if some snare were not concealed beneath this outward indifference.But soon, as if ashamed of having consulted this poor auxiliary, hecollected all his forces for a fresh assault and new defense. "I heardthat you had had some difference with the court but that you had comeout of it as you know how to get through everything, D'Artagnan, withthe honors of war."
"I!" said the musketeer, with a burst of laughter that did not concealhis embarrassment, for, from these words, Aramis was not unlikely to beacquainted with his last relations with the king. "I! Oh, tell me allabout that, pray, Aramis?"
"Yes, it was related to me, a poor bishop, lost in the middle of theLandes, that the king had taken you as the confidant of his amours."
"With whom?"
"With Mademoiselle de Mancini."
D'Artagnan breathed freely again. "Ah! I don't say no to that," repliedhe.
"It appears that the king took you one morning over the bridge of Bloisto talk with his lady-love."
"That's true," said D'Artagnan. "And you know that, do you? Well, then,you must know that the same day I gave in my resignation!"
"What, sincerely?"
"Nothing more so."
"It was after that, then, that you went to the Comte de la Fere's?"
"Yes."
"Afterwards to me?"
"Yes."
"And then Porthos?"
"Yes."
"Was it in order to pay us a simple visit?"
"No, I did not know you were engaged, and I wished to take you with meinto England."
"Yes, I understand; and then you executed alone, wonderful man as youare, what you wanted to propose to us all four. I suspected you hadsomething to do with that famous restoration, when I learned that youhad been seen at King Charles's receptions, and that he appeared totreat you like a friend, or rather like a person to whom he was under anobligation."
"But how the devil did you learn all that?" asked D'Artagnan, who beganto fear that the investigation of Aramis had extended further than hewished.
"Dear D'Artagnan," said the prelate, "my friendship resembles, in adegree, the solicitude of that night watch whom we have in the littletower of the mole, at the extremity of the quay. That brave man, everynight, lights a lantern to direct the barks that come from sea. He isconcealed in his sentry-box, and the fishermen do not see him; but hefollows them with interest; he divines them; he calls them; he attractsthem into the way to the port. I resemble this watcher: from time totime some news reaches me, and recalls to my remembrance all those Iloved. Then I follow the friends of old days over the stormy ocean ofthe world, I, a poor watcher, to whom God has kindly given the shelterof a sentry-box."
"Well, what did I do when I came from England?"
"Ah! there," replied Aramis, "you get beyond my depth. I know nothing ofyou since your return. D'Artagnan, my eyes are dim. I regretted you didnot think of me. I wept over your forgetfulness. I was wrong. I see youagain, and it is a festival, a great festival, I assure you, solemnly!How is Athos?"
"Very well, thank you."
"And our young pupil, Raoul?"
"He seems to have inherited the skill of his father, Athos, and thestrength of his tutor, Porthos."
"And on what occasion have you been able to judge of that?"
"Eh! mon Dieu! on the eve of my departure from Paris."
"Indeed! tell me all about it!"
"Yes; there was an execution at the Greve, and in consequence of thatexecution, a riot. We happened by accident, to be in the riot; and inthis riot we were obliged to have recourse to our swords. And he didwonders."
"Bah! what did he do?"
"Why, in the first place, he threw a man out of the window, as he wouldhave flung a sack full of flock."
"Come, that's pretty well," said Porthos.
"Then he drew, and cut and thrust away, as we fellows used to do in thegood old times."
"And what was the cause of this riot?" said Porthos.
D'Artagnan remarked upon the face of Aramis a complete indifference tothis question of Porthos. "Why," said he, fixing his eyes upon Aramis,"on account of two farmers of the revenues, friends of M. Fouquet, whomthe king forced to disgorge their plunder, and then hanged them."
A scarcely perceptible contraction of the prelate's brow showed that hehad heard D'Artagnan's reply.
"Oh, oh!" said Porthos; "and what were the names of these friends of M.Fouquet?"
"MM. d'Eymeris and Lyodot," said D'Artagnan. "Do you know those names,Aramis?"
"No," said the prelate, disdainfully; "they sound like the names offinanciers."
"Exactly; so they were."
"Oh! M. Fouquet allows his friends to be hanged, then," said Porthos.
"And why not?" said Aramis. "Why, it seems to me----"
"If these culprits were hanged, it was by order of the king. Now M.Fouquet, although superintendent of the finances, has not, I believe,the right of life and death."
"That may be," said Porthos; "but in the place of M. Fouquet----"
Aramis was afraid Porthos was about to say something awkward, sointerrupted him. "Come, D'Artagnan," said he; "this is quite enoughabout other people, let us talk a little about you."
"Of me you know all that I can tell you. On the contrary let me hear alittle about you, Aramis."
"I have told you, my friend. There is nothing of Aramis left in me."
"Nor of the Abbe d'Herblay even?"
"No, not even of him. You see a man whom Providence has taken by thehand, whom he has conducted to a position that he could never have daredeven to hope for."
"Providence?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Yes."
"Well, that is strange! I was told it was M. Fouquet."
"Who told you that?" cried Aramis, without being able, with all thepower of his will, to prevent the color rising to his cheeks.
"Ma foi! why, Bazin!"
"The fool!"
"I do not say he is a man of genius, it is true; but he told me so; andafter him, I repeat it to you."
"I have never seen M. Fouquet," replied Aramis with a look as pure andcalm as that of a virgin who has never told a lie.
"Well, but if you had seen him and known him, there is no harm in that,"replied D'Artagnan. "M. Fouquet is a very good sort of a man."
"Humph!"
"A great politician." Aramis made a gesture of indifference.
"An all-powerful minister."
"I only hold to the king and the pope."
"Dame! listen then," said D'Art
agnan, in the most natural toneimaginable. "I said that because everybody here swears by M. Fouquet.The plain is M. Fouquet's; the salt-mines I am about to buy areM. Fouquet's; the island in which Porthos studies topography is M.Fouquet's; the galleys are M. Fouquet's. I confess, then, that nothingwould have surprised me in your enfeoffment, or rather in that of yourdiocese, to M. Fouquet. He is a different master from the king, that isall; but quite as powerful as Louis."
"Thank God! I am not vassal to anybody; I belong to nobody, and amentirely my own master," replied Aramis, who, during this conversation,followed with his eye every gesture of D'Artagnan, every glance ofPorthos. But D'Artagnan was impassible and Porthos motionless; thethrusts aimed so skillfully were parried by an able adversary; not onehit the mark. Nevertheless, both began to feel the fatigue of such acontest and the announcement of supper was well received by everybody.Supper changed the course of conversation. Besides, they felt that, upontheir guard as each one had been, they could neither of them boast ofhaving the advantage. Porthos had understood nothing of what had beenmeant. He had held himself motionless, because Aramis had made him asign not to stir. Supper for him, was nothing but supper; but thatwas quite enough for Porthos. The supper, then, went off very well.D'Artagnan was in high spirits. Aramis exceeded himself in kindaffability. Porthos ate like old Pelops. Their talk was of war,finance, the arts, and love. Aramis played astonishment at every word ofpolitics. D'Artagnan risked. This long series of surprises increasedthe mistrust of D'Artagnan, as the eternal indifference of D'Artagnanprovoked the suspicions of Aramis. At length D'Artagnan, designedly,uttered the name of Colbert; he had reserved that stroke for the last.
"Who is this Colbert?" asked the bishop.
"Oh! come," said D'Artagnan to himself, "that is too strong! We must becareful, mordioux! we must be careful."
And he then gave Aramis all the information respecting M. Colbert hecould desire. The supper, or rather, the conversation, was prolongedtill one o'clock in the morning between D'Artagnan and Aramis. At teno'clock precisely, Porthos had fallen asleep in his chair and snoredlike an organ. At midnight he woke up and they sent him to bed. "Hum!"said he, "I was near falling asleep; but that was all very interestingyou were talking about."
At one o'clock Aramis conducted D'Artagnan to the chamber destined forhim, which was the best in the episcopal residence. Two servants wereplaced at his command. "To-morrow, at eight o'clock," said he, takingleave of D'Artagnan, "we will take, if agreeable to you, a ride onhorseback with Porthos."
"At eight o'clock!" said D'Artagnan, "so late?"
"You know that I require seven hours, sleep." said Aramis.
"That is true."
"Good-night, dear friend!" And he embraced the musketeer cordially.
D'Artagnan allowed him to depart; then, as soon as the door closed,"Good!" cried he, "at five o'clock I will be on foot."
This determination being made, he went to bed and quietly "put two andtwo together," as people say.
CHAPTER 73. In which Porthos begins to be sorry for having come withD'Artagnan