29. The Ferry across the Oise.
We hope that the reader has not quite forgotten the young traveler whomwe left on the road to Flanders.
In losing sight of his guardian, whom he had quitted, gazing after himin front of the royal basilican, Raoul spurred on his horse, in ordernot only to escape from his own melancholy reflections, but also to hidefrom Olivain the emotion his face might betray.
One hour's rapid progress, however, sufficed to disperse the gloomyfancies that had clouded the young man's bright anticipations; and thehitherto unfelt pleasure of freedom--a pleasure which is sweet even tothose who have never known dependence--seemed to Raoul to gild not onlyHeaven and earth, but especially that blue but dim horizon of life wecall the future.
Nevertheless, after several attempts at conversation with Olivain heforesaw that many days passed thus would prove exceedingly dull; and thecount's agreeable voice, his gentle and persuasive eloquence, recurredto his mind at the various towns through which they journeyed and aboutwhich he had no longer any one to give him those interesting detailswhich he would have drawn from Athos, the most amusing and the bestinformed of guides. Another recollection contributed also to saddenRaoul: on their arrival at Sonores he had perceived, hidden behind ascreen of poplars, a little chateau which so vividly recalled that of LaValliere to his mind that he halted for nearly ten minutes to gaze atit, and resumed his journey with a sigh too abstracted even to reply toOlivain's respectful inquiry about the cause of so much fixed attention.The aspect of external objects is often a mysterious guide communicatingwith the fibres of memory, which in spite of us will arouse them attimes; this thread, like that of Ariadne, when once unraveled willconduct one through a labyrinth of thought, in which one loses one'sself in endeavoring to follow that phantom of the past which is calledrecollection.
Now the sight of this chateau had taken Raoul back fifty leagueswestward and had caused him to review his life from the moment when hehad taken leave of little Louise to that in which he had seen her forthe first time; and every branch of oak, every gilded weathercock onroof of slates, reminded him that, instead of returning to the friendsof his childhood, every instant estranged him further and that perhapshe had even left them forever.
With a full heart and burning head he desired Olivain to lead on thehorses to a wayside inn, which he observed within gunshot range, alittle in advance of the place they had reached.
As for himself, he dismounted and remained under a beautiful group ofchestnuts in flower, amidst which were murmuring a multitude of happybees, and bade Olivain send the host to him with writing paper and ink,to be placed on a table which he found there, conveniently ready.Olivain obeyed and continued on his way, whilst Raoul remained sitting,with his elbow leaning on the table, from time to time gently shakingthe flowers from his head, which fell upon him like snow, and gazingvaguely on the charming landscape spread out before him, dotted overwith green fields and groups of trees. Raoul had been there about tenminutes, during five of which he was lost in reverie, when thereappeared within the circle comprised in his rolling gaze a man with arubicund face, who, with a napkin around his body, another under hisarm, and a white cap upon his head, approached him, holding paper, penand ink in hand.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the apparition, "every gentleman seems to have thesame fancy, for not a quarter of an hour ago a young lad, well mountedlike you, as tall as you and of about your age, halted before this clumpof trees and had this table and this chair brought here, and dined here,with an old gentleman who seemed to be his tutor, upon a pie, of whichthey haven't left a mouthful, and two bottles of Macon wine, of whichthey haven't left a drop, but fortunately we have still some of the samewine and some of the same pies left, and if your worship will but giveyour orders----"
"No, friend," replied Raoul, smiling, "I am obliged to you, but at thismoment I want nothing but the things for which I have asked--only Ishall be very glad if the ink prove black and the pen good; upon theseconditions I will pay for the pen the price of the bottle, and for theink the price of the pie."
"Very well, sir," said the host, "I'll give the pie and the bottle ofwine to your servant, and in this way you will have the pen and ink intothe bargain."
"Do as you like," said Raoul, who was beginning his apprenticeship withthat particular class of society, who, when there were robbers on thehighroads, were connected with them, and who, since highwaymen no longerexist, have advantageously and aptly filled their vacant place.
The host, his mind at ease about his bill, placed pen, ink and paperupon the table. By a lucky chance the pen was tolerably good and Raoulbegan to write. The host remained standing in front of him, looking witha kind of involuntary admiration at his handsome face, combining bothgravity and sweetness of expression. Beauty has always been and alwayswill be all-powerful.
"He's not a guest like the other one here just now," observed mine hostto Olivain, who had rejoined his master to see if he wanted anything,"and your young master has no appetite."
"My master had appetite enough three days ago, but what can one do? helost it the day before yesterday."
And Olivain and the host took their way together toward the inn,Olivain, according to the custom of serving-men well pleased with theirplace, relating to the tavern-keeper all that he could say in favor ofthe young gentleman; whilst Raoul wrote on thus:
"Sir,--After a four hours' march I stop to write to you, for I miss youevery moment, and I am always on the point of turning my head as if toreply when you speak to me. I was so bewildered by your departure and soovercome with grief at our separation, that I am sure I was able to butvery feebly express all the affection and gratitude I feel toward you.You will forgive me, sir, for your heart is of such a generous naturethat you can well understand all that has passed in mine. I entreat youto write to me, for you form a part of my existence, and, if I mayventure to tell you so, I also feel anxious. It seemed to me as if youwere yourself preparing for some dangerous undertaking, about which Idid not dare to question you, since you told me nothing. I have,therefore, as you see, great need of hearing from you. Now that you areno longer beside me I am afraid every moment of erring. You sustained mepowerfully, sir, and I protest to you that to-day I feel very lonely.Will you have the goodness, sir, should you receive news from Blois, tosend me a few lines about my little friend Mademoiselle de la Valliere,about whose health, when we left, so much anxiety was felt? You canunderstand, honored and dear guardian, how precious and indispensable tome is the remembrance of the years that I have passed with you. I hopethat you will sometimes, too, think of me, and if at certain hours youshould miss me, if you should feel any slight regret at my absence, Ishall be overwhelmed with joy at the thought that you appreciate myaffection for and my devotion to yourself, and that I have been able toprove them to you whilst I had the happiness of living with you."
After finishing this letter Raoul felt more composed; he looked wellaround him to see if Olivain and the host might not be watching him,whilst he impressed a kiss upon the paper, a mute and touching caress,which the heart of Athos might well divine on opening the letter.
During this time Olivain had finished his bottle and eaten his pie; thehorses were also refreshed. Raoul motioned to the host to approach,threw a crown upon the table, mounted his horse, and posted his letterat Senlis. The rest that had been thus afforded to men and horsesenabled them to continue their journey at a good round pace. AtVerberie, Raoul desired Olivain to make some inquiry about the young manwho was preceding them; he had been observed to pass only three-quartersof an hour previously, but he was well mounted, as the tavern-keeper hadalready said, and rode at a rapid pace.
"Let us try and overtake this gentleman," said Raoul to Olivain; "likeourselves he is on his way to join the army and may prove agreeablecompany."
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when Raoul arrived atCompiegne; there he dined heartily and again inquired about the younggentleman who was in advance of them. He had stopped, like Raoul, at theHotel
of the Bell and Bottle, the best at Compiegne; and had startedagain on his journey, saying that he should sleep at Noyon.
"Well, let us sleep at Noyon," said Raoul.
"Sir," replied Olivain, respectfully, "allow me to remark that we havealready much fatigued the horses this morning. I think it would be wellto sleep here and to start again very early to-morrow. Eighteen leaguesis enough for the first stage."
"The Comte de la Fere wished me to hasten on," replied Raoul, "that Imight rejoin the prince on the morning of the fourth day; let us pushon, then, to Noyon; it will be a stage similar to those we traveled fromBlois to Paris. We shall arrive at eight o'clock. The horses will have along night's rest, and at five o'clock to-morrow morning we can be againon the road."
Olivain dared offer no opposition to this determination but he followedhis master, grumbling.
"Go on, go on," said he, between his teeth, "expend your ardor the firstday; to-morrow, instead of journeying twenty leagues, you will travelten, the day after to-morrow, five, and in three days you will be inbed. There you must rest; young people are such braggarts."
It was easy to see that Olivain had not been taught in the school of thePlanchets and the Grimauds. Raoul really felt tired, but he was desirousof testing his strength, and, brought up in the principles of Athos andcertain of having heard him speak a thousand times of stages oftwenty-five leagues, he did not wish to fall far short of his model.D'Artagnan, that man of iron, who seemed to be made of nerve and muscleonly, had struck him with admiration. Therefore, in spite of Olivain'sremarks, he continued to urge his steed more and more, and following apleasant little path, leading to a ferry, and which he had been assuredshortened the journey by the distance of one league, he arrived at thesummit of a hill and perceived the river flowing before him. A littletroop of men on horseback were waiting on the edge of the stream, readyto embark. Raoul did not doubt this was the gentleman and his escort; hecalled out to him, but they were too distant to be heard; then, in spiteof the weariness of his beast, he made it gallop but the rising groundsoon deprived him of all sight of the travelers, and when he had againattained a new height, the ferryboat had left the shore and was makingfor the opposite bank. Raoul, seeing that he could not arrive in time tocross the ferry with the travelers, halted to wait for Olivain. At thismoment a shriek was heard that seemed to come from the river. Raoulturned toward the side whence the cry had sounded, and shaded his eyesfrom the glare of the setting sun with his hand.
"Olivain!" he exclaimed, "what do I see below there?"
A second scream, more piercing than the first, now sounded.
"Oh, sir!" cried Olivain, "the rope which holds the ferryboat has brokenand the boat is drifting. But what do I see in the water--somethingstruggling?"
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Raoul, fixing his glance on one point in thestream, splendidly illumined by the setting sun, "a horse, a rider!"
"They are sinking!" cried Olivain in his turn.
It was true, and Raoul was convinced that some accident had happened andthat a man was drowning; he gave his horse its head, struck his spursinto its sides, and the animal, urged by pain and feeling that he hadspace open before him, bounded over a kind of paling which inclosed thelanding place, and fell into the river, scattering to a distance wavesof white froth.
"Ah, sir!" cried Olivain, "what are you doing? Good God!"
Raoul was directing his horse toward the unhappy man in danger. Thiswas, in fact, a custom familiar to him. Having been brought up on thebanks of the Loire, he might have been said to have been cradled on itswaves; a hundred times he had crossed it on horseback, a thousand timeshad swum across. Athos, foreseeing the period when he should make asoldier of the viscount, had inured him to all kinds of arduousundertakings.
"Oh, heavens!" continued Olivain, in despair, "what would the count sayif he only saw you now!"
"The count would do as I do," replied Raoul, urging his horse vigorouslyforward.
"But I--but I," cried Olivain, pale and disconsolate rushing about onthe shore, "how shall I cross?"
"Leap, coward!" cried Raoul, swimming on; then addressing the traveler,who was struggling twenty yards in front of him: "Courage, sir!" saidhe, "courage! we are coming to your aid."
Olivain advanced, retired, then made his horse rear--turned it and then,struck to the core by shame, leaped, as Raoul had done, only repeating:
"I am a dead man! we are lost!"
In the meantime, the ferryboat had floated away, carried down by thestream, and the shrieks of those whom it contained resounded more andmore. A man with gray hair had thrown himself from the boat into theriver and was swimming vigorously toward the person who was drowning;but being obliged to go against the current he advanced but slowly.Raoul continued his way and was visibly gaining ground; but the horseand its rider, of whom he did not lose sight, were evidently sinking.The nostrils of the horse were no longer above water, and the rider, whohad lost the reins in struggling, fell with his head back and his armsextended. One moment longer and all would disappear.
"Courage!" cried Raoul, "courage!"
"Too late!" murmured the young man, "too late!"
The water closed above his head and stifled his voice.
Raoul sprang from his horse, to which he left the charge of its ownpreservation, and in three or four strokes was at the gentleman's side;he seized the horse at once by the curb and raised its head above water;the animal began to breathe again and, as if he comprehended that theyhad come to his aid, redoubled his efforts. Raoul at the same timeseized one of the young man's hands and placed it on the mane, which itgrasped with the tenacity of a drowning man. Thus, sure that the riderwould not release his hold, Raoul now only directed his attention to thehorse, which he guided to the opposite bank, helping it to cut throughthe water and encouraging it with words.
All at once the horse stumbled against a ridge and then placed its footon the sand.
"Saved!" exclaimed the man with gray hair, who also touched bottom.
"Saved!" mechanically repeated the young gentleman, releasing the maneand sliding from the saddle into Raoul's arms; Raoul was but ten yardsfrom the shore; there he bore the fainting man, and laying him down uponthe grass, unfastened the buttons of his collar and unhooked hisdoublet. A moment later the gray-headed man was beside him. Olivainmanaged in his turn to land, after crossing himself repeatedly; and thepeople in the ferryboat guided themselves as well as they were abletoward the bank, with the aid of a pole which chanced to be in the boat.
Thanks to the attentions of Raoul and the man who accompanied the younggentleman, the color gradually returned to the pale cheeks of the dyingman, who opened his eyes, at first entirely bewildered, but who soonfixed his gaze upon the person who had saved him.
"Ah, sir," he exclaimed, "it was you! Without you I was a deadman--thrice dead."
"But one recovers, sir, as you perceive," replied Raoul, "and we havebut had a little bath."
"Oh! sir, what gratitude I feel!" exclaimed the man with gray hair.
"Ah, there you are, my good D'Arminges; I have given you a great fright,have I not? but it is your own fault. You were my tutor, why did you notteach me to swim?"
"Oh, monsieur le comte," replied the old man, "had any misfortunehappened to you, I should never have dared to show myself to the marshalagain."
"But how did the accident happen?" asked Raoul.
"Oh, sir, in the most natural way possible," replied he to whom they hadgiven the title of count. "We were about a third of the way across theriver when the cord of the ferryboat broke. Alarmed by the cries andgestures of the boatmen, my horse sprang into the water. I cannot swim,and dared not throw myself into the river. Instead of aiding themovements of my horse, I paralyzed them; and I was just going to drownmyself with the best grace in the world, when you arrived just in timeto pull me out of the water; therefore, sir, if you will agree,henceforward we are friends until death."
"Sir," replied Raoul, bowing, "I am entirely at your service, I assur
eyou."
"I am called the Count de Guiche," continued the young man; "my fatheris the Marechal de Grammont; and now that you know who I am, do me thehonor to inform me who you are."
"I am the Viscount de Bragelonne," answered Raoul, blushing at beingunable to name his father, as the Count de Guiche had done.
"Viscount, your countenance, your goodness and your courage incline metoward you; my gratitude is already due. Shake hands--I crave yourfriendship."
"Sir," said Raoul, returning the count's pressure of the hand, "I likeyou already, from my heart; pray regard me as a devoted friend, Ibeseech you."
"And now, where are you going, viscount?" inquired De Guiche.
"To join the army, under the prince, count."
"And I, too!" exclaimed the young man, in a transport of joy. "Oh, somuch the better, we will fire the first shot together."
"It is well; be friends," said the tutor; "young as you both are, youwere perhaps born under the same star and were destined to meet. Andnow," continued he, "you must change your clothes; your servants, towhom I gave directions the moment they had left the ferryboat, ought tobe already at the inn. Linen and wine are both being warmed; come."
The young men had no objection to this proposition; on the contrary,they thought it very timely.
They mounted again at once, whilst looks of admiration passed betweenthem. They were indeed two elegant horsemen, with figures slight andupright, noble faces, bright and proud looks, loyal and intelligentsmiles.
De Guiche might have been about eighteen years of age, but he wasscarcely taller than Raoul, who was only fifteen.