Ten Years Later

  From thirty to thirty-five hours after the events we have just related,as M. Fouquet, according to his custom, having interdicted his door, wasworking in the cabinet of his house at Saint-Mande, with which we arealready acquainted, a carriage, drawn by four horses steaming withsweat, entered the court at full gallop. This carriage was, probably,expected, for three or four lackeys hastened to the door, which theyopened. Whilst M. Fouquet rose from his bureau and ran to the window,a man got painfully out of the carriage descending with difficulty thethree steps of the door, leaning upon the shoulders of the lackeys.He had scarcely uttered his name, when the valet upon whom he was notleaning sprang up the perron, and disappeared in the vestibule. This manwent to inform his master; but he had no occasion to knock at the door:Fouquet was standing on the threshold.

  "Monseigneur, the Bishop of Vannes," said he.

  "Very well!" replied his master.

  Then, leaning over the banister of the staircase, of which Aramis wasbeginning to ascend the first steps,--

  "Ah, dear friend!" said he, "you, so soon!"

  "Yes; I, myself, monsieur! but bruised, battered, as you see."

  "Oh! my poor friend," said Fouquet, presenting him his arm, on whichAramis leant, whilst the servants drew back respectfully.

  "Bah!" replied Aramis, "it is nothing, since I am here; the principalthing was that I should get here, and here I am."

  "Speak quickly," said Fouquet, closing the door of the cabinet behindAramis and himself.

  "Are we alone?"

  "Yes, perfectly."

  "No one observes us?--no one can hear us?"

  "Be satisfied; nobody."

  "Is M. du Vallon arrived?"

  "Yes."

  "And you have received my letter?"

  "Yes. The affair is serious, apparently, since it necessitates yourattendance in Paris, at a moment when your presence was so urgentelsewhere."

  "You are right, it could not be more serious."

  "Thank you! thank you! What is it about? But, for God's sake! beforeanything else, take time to breathe, dear friend. You are so pale, youfrighten me."

  "I am really in great pain. But, for Heaven's sake, think nothing aboutme. Did M. du Vallon tell you nothing, when he delivered the letter toyou?"

  "No; I heard a great noise; I went to the window; I saw at the footof the perron, a sort of horseman of marble; I went down, he held theletter out to me, and his horse fell down dead."

  "But he?"

  "He fell with the horse; he was lifted, and carried to an apartment.Having read the letter, I went up to him, in hopes of obtaining moreample information; but he was asleep, and, after such a fashion, that itwas impossible to wake him. I took pity on him; I gave orders that hisboots should be cut from off his legs, and that he should be left quiteundisturbed."

  "So far well; now, this is the question in hand, monseigneur. You haveseen M. d'Artagnan in Paris, have you not?"

  "Certes, and think him a man of intelligence, and even a man of heart;although he did bring about the death of our dear friends, Lyodot andD'Eymeris."

  "Alas! yes, I heard of that. At Tours I met the courier who was bringingme the letter from Gourville, and the dispatches from Pellisson. Haveyou seriously reflected on that event, monsieur?"

  "Yes."

  "And in it you perceived a direct attack upon your sovereignty?"

  "And do you believe it to be so?"

  "Oh, yes, I think so."

  "Well, I must confess, that sad idea occurred to me likewise."

  "Do not blind yourself, monsieur, in the name of Heaven! Listenattentively to me,--I return to D'Artagnan."

  "I am all attention."

  "Under what circumstances did you see him?"

  "He came here for money."

  "With what kind of order?"

  "With an order from the king."

  "Direct?"

  "Signed by his majesty."

  "There, then! Well, D'Artagnan has been to Belle-Isle; he was disguised;he came in the character of some sort of an intendant, charged by hismaster to purchase salt-mines. Now, D'Artagnan has no other master butthe king: he came, then, sent by the king. He saw Porthos."

  "Who is Porthos?"

  "I beg your pardon, I made a mistake. He saw M. du Vallon at Belle-Isle;and he knows, as well as you and I do, that Belle-Isle is fortified."

  "And you think that the king sent him there?" said Fouquet, pensively.

  "I certainly do."

  "And D'Artagnan, in the hands of the king, is a dangerous instrument?"

  "The most dangerous imaginable."

  "Then I formed a correct opinion of him at the first glance."

  "How so?"

  "I wished to attach him to myself."

  "If you judged him to be the bravest, the most acute, and the mostadroit man in France, you judged correctly."

  "He must be had then, at any price."

  "D'Artagnan?"

  "Is not that your opinion?"

  "It may be my opinion, but you will never get him."

  "Why?"

  "Because we have allowed the time to go by. He was dissatisfied with thecourt, we should have profited by that; since that, he has passed intoEngland; there he powerfully assisted in the restoration, there hegained a fortune, and, after all, he returned to the service of theking. Well, if he has returned to the service of the king, it is becausehe is well paid in that service."

  "We will pay him even better, that is all."

  "Oh! monsieur, excuse me; D'Artagnan has a high respect for his word,and where that is once engaged he keeps it."

  "What do you conclude, then?" said Fouquet, with great inquietude.

  "At present, the principal thing is to parry a dangerous blow."

  "And how is it to be parried?"

  "Listen."

  "But D'Artagnan will come and render an account to the king of hismission."

  "Oh, we have time enough to think about that."

  "How so? You are much in advance of him, I presume?"

  "Nearly ten hours."

  "Well, in ten hours----"

  Aramis shook his pale head. "Look at these clouds which flit acrossthe heavens; at these swallows which cut the air. D'Artagnan movesmore quickly than the clouds or the birds; D'Artagnan is the wind whichcarries them."

  "A strange man!"

  "I tell you, he is superhuman, monsieur. He is of my own age, and I haveknown him these five-and-thirty years."

  "Well?"

  "Well, listen to my calculation, monsieur. I sent M. du Vallon off toyou two hours after midnight. M. du Vallon was eight hours in advance ofme, when did M. du Vallon arrive?"

  "About four hours ago."

  "You see, then, that I gained four upon him; and yet Porthos is astaunch horseman, and he has left on the road eight dead horses, whosebodies I came to successively. I rode post fifty leagues; but I have thegout, the gravel, and what else I know not; so that fatigue kills me.I was obliged to dismount at Tours; since that, rolling along in acarriage, half dead, sometimes overturned, drawn upon the sides, andsometimes on the back of the carriage, always with four spiritedhorses at full gallop, I have arrived--arrived, gaining four hours uponPorthos; but, see you, D'Artagnan does not weigh three hundred-weight,as Porthos does; D'Artagnan has not the gout and gravel, as I have; heis not a horseman, he is a centaur. D'Artagnan, look you, set out forBelle-Isle when I set out for Paris; and D'Artagnan, notwithstanding myten hours, advance, D'Artagnan will arrive within two hours after me."

  "But, then, accidents?"

  "He never meets with accidents."

  "Horses may fail him."

  "He will run as fast as a horse."

  "Good God! what a man!"

  "Yes, he is a man whom I love and admire. I love him because he is good,great, and loyal; I admire him because he represents in my eyes theculminating point of human power; but, whilst loving and admiring him, Ifear him, and am on my guard against him. Now then, I resume, monsieur;in two hours D'Artagnan will be her
e; be beforehand with him. Go to theLouvre, and see the king, before he sees D'Artagnan."

  "What shall I say to the king?"

  "Nothing; give him Belle-Isle."

  "Oh! Monsieur d'Herblay! Monsieur d'Herblay," cried Fouquet, "whatprojects crushed all at once!"

  "After one project that has failed, there is always another project thatmay lead to fortune; we should never despair. Go, monsieur, and go atonce."

  "But that garrison, so carefully chosen, the king will change itdirectly."

  "That garrison, monsieur, was the king's when it entered Belle-Isle;it is yours now; it is the same with all garrisons after a fortnight'soccupation. Let things go on, monsieur. Do you see any inconvenience inhaving an army at the end of a year, instead of two regiments? Doyou not see that your garrison of today will make you partisans at LaRochelle, Nantes, Bordeaux, Toulouse--in short, wherever they may besent to? Go to the king, monsieur; go; time flies, and D'Artagnan, whilewe are losing time, is flying, like an arrow, along the high-road."

  "Monsieur d'Herblay, you know that each word from you is a germ whichfructifies in my thoughts. I will go to the Louvre."

  "Instantly, will you not?"

  "I only ask time to change my dress."

  "Remember that D'Artagnan has no need to pass through Saint-Mande; butwill go straight to the Louvre; that is cutting off an hour from theadvantage that yet remains to us."

  "D'Artagnan may have everything except my English horses. I shall beat the Louvre in twenty-five minutes." And, without losing a second,Fouquet gave orders for his departure.

  Aramis had only time to say to him, "Return as quickly as you go; for Ishall await you impatiently."

  Five minutes after, the superintendent was flying along the road toParis. During this time Aramis desired to be shown the chamber in whichPorthos was sleeping. At the door of Fouquet's cabinet he was folded inthe arms of Pellisson, who had just heard of his arrival, and had lefthis office to see him. Aramis received, with that friendly dignity whichhe knew so well how to assume, these caresses, respectful as earnest;but all at once stopping on the landing-place, "What is that I hear upyonder?"

  There was, in fact, a hoarse, growling kind of noise, like the roar ofa hungry tiger, or an impatient lion. "Oh, that is nothing," saidPellisson, smiling.

  "Well; but----"

  "It is M. du Vallon snoring."

  "Ah! true," said Aramis. "I had forgotten. No one but he is capableof making such a noise. Allow me, Pellisson, to inquire if he wantsanything."

  "And you will permit me to accompany you?"

  "Oh, certainly;" and both entered the chamber. Porthos was stretchedupon the bed; his face was violet rather than red; his eyes wereswelled; his mouth was wide open. The roaring which escaped from thedeep cavities of his chest made the glass of the windows vibrate. Tothose developed and clearly defined muscles starting from his face, tohis hair matted with sweat, to the energetic heaving of his chin andshoulders, it was impossible to refuse a certain degree of admiration.Strength carried to this point is semi-divine. The Herculean legs andfeet of Porthos had, by swelling, burst his stockings; all the strengthof his huge body was converted into the rigidity of stone. Porthos movedno more than does the giant of granite which reclines upon the plains ofAgrigentum. According to Pellisson's orders, his boots had been cut off,for no human power could have pulled them off. Four lackeys had triedin vain, pulling at them as they would have pulled capstans; and yet allthis did not awaken him. They had hacked off his boots in fragments, andhis legs had fallen back upon the bed. They then cut off the rest ofhis clothes, carried him to a bath, in which they let him soak aconsiderable time. They then put on him clean linen, and placed him ina well-warmed bed--the whole with efforts and pains which might haveroused a dead man, but which did not make Porthos open an eye, orinterrupt for a second the formidable diapason of his snoring. Aramiswished on his part, with his nervous nature, armed with extraordinarycourage, to outbrave fatigue, and employ himself with Gourville andPellisson, but he fainted in the chair in which he had persistedsitting. He was carried into the adjoining room, where the repose of bedsoon soothed his failing brain.

  CHAPTER 75. In which Monsieur Fouquet acts