Chapter XXVI. The Last Adieux.
Raoul uttered a cry, and affectionately embraced Porthos. Aramis andAthos embraced like old men; and this embrace itself being a questionfor Aramis, he immediately said, "My friend, we have not long to remainwith you."
"Ah!" said the comte.
"Only time to tell you of my good fortune," interrupted Porthos.
"Ah!" said Raoul.
Athos looked silently at Aramis, whose somber air had already appearedto him very little in harmony with the good news Porthos hinted.
"What is the good fortune that has happened to you? Let us hear it,"said Raoul, with a smile.
"The king has made me a duke," said the worthy Porthos, with an air ofmystery, in the ear of the young man, "a duke by _brevet_."
But the _asides_ of Porthos were always loud enough to be heard byeverybody. His murmurs were in the diapason of ordinary roaring. Athosheard him, and uttered an exclamation which made Aramis start. Thelatter took Athos by the arm, and, after having asked Porthos'spermission to say a word to his friend in private, "My dear Athos," hebegan, "you see me overwhelmed with grief and trouble."
"With grief and trouble, my dear friend?" cried the comte; "oh, what?"
"In two words. I have conspired against the king; that conspiracy hasfailed, and, at this moment, I am doubtless pursued."
"You are pursued!--a conspiracy! Eh! my friend, what do you tell me?"
"The saddest truth. I am entirely ruined."
"Well, but Porthos--this title of duke--what does all that mean?"
"That is the subject of my severest pain; that is the deepest of mywounds. I have, believing in infallible success, drawn Porthos into myconspiracy. He threw himself into it, as you know he would do, with allhis strength, without knowing what he was about; and now he is as muchcompromised as myself--as completely ruined as I am."
"Good God!" And Athos turned towards Porthos, who was smilingcomplacently.
"I must make you acquainted with the whole. Listen to me," continuedAramis; and he related the history as we know it. Athos, during therecital, several times felt the sweat break from his forehead. "It was agreat idea," said he, "but a great error."
"For which I am punished, Athos."
"Therefore, I will not tell you my entire thought."
"Tell it, nevertheless."
"It is a crime."
"A capital crime; I know it is. _Lese majeste_."
"Porthos! poor Porthos!"
"What would you advise me to do? Success, as I have told you, wascertain."
"M. Fouquet is an honest man."
"And I a fool for having so ill-judged him," said Aramis. "Oh, thewisdom of man! Oh, millstone that grinds the world! and which is one daystopped by a grain of sand which has fallen, no one knows how, betweenits wheels."
"Say by a diamond, Aramis. But the thing is done. How do you think ofacting?"
"I am taking away Porthos. The king will never believe that that worthyman has acted innocently. He never can believe that Porthos has thoughthe was serving the king, whilst acting as he has done. His head wouldpay my fault. It shall not, must not, be so."
"You are taking him away, whither?"
"To Belle-Isle, at first. That is an impregnable place of refuge. Then,I have the sea, and a vessel to pass over into England, where I havemany relations."
"You? in England?"
"Yes, or else in Spain, where I have still more."
"But, our excellent Porthos! you ruin him, for the king will confiscateall his property."
"All is provided for. I know how, when once in Spain, to reconcilemyself with Louis XIV., and restore Porthos to favor."
"You have credit, seemingly, Aramis!" said Athos, with a discreet air.
"Much; and at the service of my friends."
These words were accompanied by a warm pressure of the hand.
"Thank you," replied the comte.
"And while we are on this head," said Aramis, "you also are amalcontent; you also, Raoul, have griefs to lay to the king. Follow ourexample; pass over into Belle-Isle. Then we shall see, I guarantee uponmy honor, that in a month there will be war between France and Spain onthe subject of this son of Louis XIII., who is an Infante likewise,and whom France detains inhumanly. Now, as Louis XIV. would have noinclination for a war on that subject, I will answer for an arrangement,the result of which must bring greatness to Porthos and to me, and aduchy in France to you, who are already a grandee of Spain. Will youjoin us?"
"No; for my part I prefer having something to reproach the king with;it is a pride natural to my race to pretend to a superiority over royalraces. Doing what you propose, I should become the obliged of the king;I should certainly be the gainer on that ground, but I should be a loserin my conscience.--No, thank you!"
"Then give me two things, Athos,--your absolution."
"Oh! I give it you if you really wished to avenge the weak and oppressedagainst the oppressor."
"That is sufficient for me," said Aramis, with a blush which was lostin the obscurity of the night. "And now, give me your two best horsesto gain the second post, as I have been refused any under the pretext ofthe Duc de Beaufort being traveling in this country."
"You shall have the two best horses, Aramis; and again I recommend poorPorthos strongly to your care."
"Oh! I have no fear on that score. One word more: do you think I ammaneuvering for him as I ought?"
"The evil being committed, yes; for the king would not pardon him, andyou have, whatever may be said, always a supporter in M. Fouquet, whowill not abandon you, he being himself compromised, notwithstanding hisheroic action."
"You are right. And that is why, instead of gaining the sea at once,which would proclaim my fear and guilt, that is why I remain upon Frenchground. But Belle-Isle will be for me whatever ground I wish it to be,English, Spanish, or Roman; all will depend, with me, on the standard Ishall think proper to unfurl."
"How so?"
"It was I who fortified Belle-Isle; and, so long as I defend it, nobodycan take Belle-Isle from me. And then, as you have said just now, M.Fouquet is there. Belle-Isle will not be attacked without the signatureof M. Fouquet."
"That is true. Nevertheless, be prudent. The king is both cunning andstrong." Aramis smiled.
"I again recommend Porthos to you," repeated the count, with a sort ofcold persistence.
"Whatever becomes of me, count," replied Aramis, in the same tone, "ourbrother Porthos will fare as I do--or _better_."
Athos bowed whilst pressing the hand of Aramis, and turned to embracePorthos with emotion.
"I was born lucky, was I not?" murmured the latter, transported withhappiness, as he folded his cloak round him.
"Come, my dear friend," said Aramis.
Raoul had gone out to give orders for the saddling of the horses. Thegroup was already divided. Athos saw his two friends on the point ofdeparture, and something like a mist passed before his eyes and weighedupon his heart.
"It is strange," thought he, "whence comes the inclination I feel toembrace Porthos once more?" At that moment Porthos turned round, andhe came towards his old friend with open arms. This last endearment wastender as in youth, as in times when hearts were warm--life happy. Andthen Porthos mounted his horse. Aramis came back once more to throwhis arms round the neck of Athos. The latter watched them along thehigh-road, elongated by the shade, in their white cloaks. Like phantomsthey seemed to enlarge on their departure from the earth, and it was notin the mist, but in the declivity of the ground that they disappeared.At the end of the perspective, both seemed to have given a spring withtheir feet, which made them vanish as if evaporated into cloud-land.
Then Athos, with a very heavy heart, returned towards the house, sayingto Bragelonne, "Raoul, I don't know what it is that has just told methat I have seen those two for the last time."
"It does not astonish me, monsieur, that you should have such athought," replied the young man, "for I have at this moment the same,and think also that I
shall never see Messieurs du Vallon and d'Herblayagain."
"Oh! you," replied the count, "you speak like a man rendered sad by adifferent cause; you see everything in black; you are young, and if youchance never to see those old friends again, it will because they nolonger exist in the world in which you have yet many years to pass. ButI--"
Raoul shook his head sadly, and leaned upon the shoulder of the count,without either of them finding another word in their hearts, which wereready to overflow.
All at once a noise of horses and voices, from the extremity of the roadto Blois, attracted their attention that way. Flambeaux-bearers shooktheir torches merrily among the trees of their route, and turned round,from time to time, to avoid distancing the horsemen who followed them.These flames, this noise, this dust of a dozen richly caparisonedhorses, formed a strange contrast in the middle of the night with themelancholy and almost funereal disappearance of the two shadows ofAramis and Porthos. Athos went towards the house; but he had hardlyreached the parterre, when the entrance gate appeared in a blaze; allthe flambeaux stopped and appeared to enflame the road. A cry was heardof "M. le Duc de Beaufort"--and Athos sprang towards the door of hishouse. But the duke had already alighted from his horse, and was lookingaround him.
"I am here, monseigneur," said Athos.
"Ah! good evening, dear count," said the prince, with that frankcordiality which won him so many hearts. "Is it too late for a friend?"
"Ah! my dear prince, come in!" said the count.
And, M. de Beaufort leaning on the arm of Athos, they entered thehouse, followed by Raoul, who walked respectfully and modestly among theofficers of the prince, with several of whom he was acquainted.