The Man in the Iron Mask

  Chapter II. How Mouston Had Become Fatter without Giving Porthos NoticeThereof, and of the Troubles Which Consequently Befell that WorthyGentleman.

  Since the departure of Athos for Blois, Porthos and D'Artagnan wereseldom together. One was occupied with harassing duties for the king,the other had been making many purchases of furniture which he intendedto forward to his estate, and by aid of which he hoped to establish inhis various residences something of the courtly luxury he had witnessedin all its dazzling brightness in his majesty's society. D'Artagnan,ever faithful, one morning during an interval of service thought aboutPorthos, and being uneasy at not having heard anything of him for afortnight, directed his steps towards his hotel, and pounced upon himjust as he was getting up. The worthy baron had a pensive--nay,more than pensive--melancholy air. He was sitting on his bed, onlyhalf-dressed, and with legs dangling over the edge, contemplating a hostof garments, which with their fringes, lace, embroidery, and slashesof ill-assorted hues, were strewed all over the floor. Porthos, sad andreflective as La Fontaine's hare, did not observe D'Artagnan's entrance,which was, moreover, screened at this moment by M. Mouston, whosepersonal corpulency, quite enough at any time to hide one man fromanother, was effectually doubled by a scarlet coat which the intendantwas holding up for his master's inspection, by the sleeves, that hemight the better see it all over. D'Artagnan stopped at the thresholdand looked in at the pensive Porthos and then, as the sight of theinnumerable garments strewing the floor caused mighty sighs to heave thebosom of that excellent gentleman, D'Artagnan thought it time to putan end to these dismal reflections, and coughed by way of announcinghimself.

  "Ah!" exclaimed Porthos, whose countenance brightened with joy; "ah! ah!Here is D'Artagnan. I shall then get hold of an idea!"

  At these words Mouston, doubting what was going on behind him, got outof the way, smiling kindly at the friend of his master, who thusfound himself freed from the material obstacle which had preventedhis reaching D'Artagnan. Porthos made his sturdy knees crack again inrising, and crossing the room in two strides, found himself face to facewith his friend, whom he folded to his breast with a force of affectionthat seemed to increase with every day. "Ah!" he repeated, "you arealways welcome, dear friend; but just now you are more welcome thanever."

  "But you seem to have the megrims here!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.

  Porthos replied by a look expressive of dejection. "Well, then, tell meall about it, Porthos, my friend, unless it is a secret."

  "In the first place," returned Porthos, "you know I have no secrets fromyou. This, then, is what saddens me."

  "Wait a minute, Porthos; let me first get rid of all this litter ofsatin and velvet!"

  "Oh, never mind," said Porthos, contemptuously; "it is all trash."

  "Trash, Porthos! Cloth at twenty-five livres an ell! gorgeous satin!regal velvet!"

  "Then you think these clothes are--"

  "Splendid, Porthos, splendid! I'll wager that you alone in France haveso many; and suppose you never had any more made, and were to live tobe a hundred years of age, which wouldn't astonish me in the very least,you could still wear a new dress the day of your death, without beingobliged to see the nose of a single tailor from now till then."

  Porthos shook his head.

  "Come, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "this unnatural melancholy in youfrightens me. My dear Porthos, pray get it out, then. And the sooner thebetter."

  "Yes, my friend, so I will: if, indeed, it is possible."

  "Perhaps you have received bad news from Bracieux?"

  "No: they have felled the wood, and it has yielded a third more than theestimate."

  "Then there has been a falling-off in the pools of Pierrefonds?"

  "No, my friend: they have been fished, and there is enough left to stockall the pools in the neighborhood."

  "Perhaps your estate at Vallon has been destroyed by an earthquake?"

  "No, my friend; on the contrary, the ground was struck with lightninga hundred paces from the chateau, and a fountain sprung up in a placeentirely destitute of water."

  "What in the world _is_ the matter, then?"

  "The fact is, I have received an invitation for the _fete_ at Vaux,"said Porthos, with a lugubrious expression.

  "Well! do you complain of that? The king has caused a hundred mortalheart-burnings among the courtiers by refusing invitations. And so, mydear friend, you are really going to Vaux?"

  "Indeed I am!"

  "You will see a magnificent sight."

  "Alas! I doubt it, though."

  "Everything that is grand in France will be brought together there!"

  "Ah!" cried Porthos, tearing out a lock of hair in his despair.

  "Eh! good heavens, are you ill?" cried D'Artagnan.

  "I am as firm as the Pont-Neuf! It isn't that."

  "But what is it, then?"

  "'Tis that I have no clothes!"

  D'Artagnan stood petrified. "No clothes! Porthos, no clothes!" he cried,"when I see at least fifty suits on the floor."

  "Fifty, truly; but not one which fits me!"

  "What? not one that fits you? But are you not measured, then, when yougive an order?"

  "To be sure he is," answered Mouston; "but unfortunately _I_ have gottenstouter!"

  "What! _you_ stouter!"

  "So much so that I am now bigger than the baron. Would you believe it,monsieur?"

  "_Parbleu!_ it seems to me that is quite evident."

  "Do you see, stupid?" said Porthos, "that is quite evident!"

  "Be still, my dear Porthos," resumed D'Artagnan, becoming slightlyimpatient, "I don't understand why your clothes should not fit you,because Mouston has grown stouter."

  "I am going to explain it," said Porthos. "You remember having relatedto me the story of the Roman general Antony, who had always seven wildboars kept roasting, each cooked up to a different point; so that hemight be able to have his dinner at any time of the day he chose to askfor it. Well, then, I resolved, as at any time I might be invited tocourt to spend a week, I resolved to have always seven suits ready forthe occasion."

  "Capitally reasoned, Porthos--only a man must have a fortune like yoursto gratify such whims. Without counting the time lost in being measured,the fashions are always changing."

  "That is exactly the point," said Porthos, "in regard to which Iflattered myself I had hit on a very ingenious device."

  "Tell me what it is; for I don't doubt your genius."

  "You remember what Mouston once was, then?"

  "Yes; when he used to call himself Mousqueton."

  "And you remember, too, the period when he began to grow fatter?"

  "No, not exactly. I beg your pardon, my good Mouston."

  "Oh! you are not in fault, monsieur," said Mouston, graciously. "Youwere in Paris, and as for us, we were at Pierrefonds."

  "Well, well, my dear Porthos; there was a time when Mouston began togrow fat. Is that what you wished to say?"

  "Yes, my friend; and I greatly rejoice over the period."

  "Indeed, I believe you do," exclaimed D'Artagnan.

  "You understand," continued Porthos, "what a world of trouble it sparedfor me."

  "No, I don't--by any means."

  "Look here, my friend. In the first place, as you have said, to bemeasured is a loss of time, even though it occur only once a fortnight.And then, one may be travelling; and then you wish to have seven suitsalways with you. In short, I have a horror of letting any one take mymeasure. Confound it! either one is a nobleman or not. To be scrutinizedand scanned by a fellow who completely analyzes you, by inch andline--'tis degrading! Here, they find you too hollow; there, tooprominent. They recognize your strong and weak points. See, now, when weleave the measurer's hands, we are like those strongholds whose anglesand different thicknesses have been ascertained by a spy."

  "In truth, my dear Porthos, you possess ideas entirely original."

  "Ah! you see when a man is an engineer--"

  "And has fortified Belle-Isle--'
tis natural, my friend."

  "Well, I had an idea, which would doubtless have proved a good one, butfor Mouston's carelessness."

  D'Artagnan glanced at Mouston, who replied by a slight movement of hisbody, as if to say, "You will see whether I am at all to blame in allthis."

  "I congratulated myself, then," resumed Porthos, "at seeing Mouston getfat; and I did all I could, by means of substantial feeding, to make himstout--always in the hope that he would come to equal myself in girth,and could then be measured in my stead."

  "Ah!" cried D'Artagnan. "I see--that spared you both time andhumiliation."

  "Consider my joy when, after a year and a half's judicious feeding--forI used to feed him up myself--the fellow--"

  "Oh! I lent a good hand myself, monsieur," said Mouston, humbly.

  "That's true. Consider my joy when, one morning, I perceived Mouston wasobliged to squeeze in, as I once did myself, to get through the littlesecret door that those fools of architects had made in the chamber ofthe late Madame du Vallon, in the chateau of Pierrefonds. And, by theway, about that door, my friend, I should like to ask you, who knoweverything, why these wretches of architects, who ought to have thecompasses run into them, just to remind them, came to make doorwaysthrough which nobody but thin people can pass?"

  "Oh, those doors," answered D'Artagnan, "were meant for gallants, andthey have generally slight and slender figures."

  "Madame du Vallon had no gallant!" answered Porthos, majestically.

  "Perfectly true, my friend," resumed D'Artagnan; "but the architectswere probably making their calculations on a basis of the probability ofyour marrying again."

  "Ah! that is possible," said Porthos. "And now I have received anexplanation of how it is that doorways are made too narrow, let usreturn to the subject of Mouston's fatness. But see how the two thingsapply to each other. I have always noticed that people's ideas runparallel. And so, observe this phenomenon, D'Artagnan. I was talking toyou of Mouston, who is fat, and it led us on to Madame du Vallon--"

  "Who was thin?"

  "Hum! Is it not marvelous?"

  "My dear friend, a _savant_ of my acquaintance, M. Costar, has made thesame observation as you have, and he calls the process by some Greekname which I forget."

  "What! my remark is not then original?" cried Porthos, astounded. "Ithought I was the discoverer."

  "My friend, the fact was known before Aristotle's days--that is to say,nearly two thousand years ago."

  "Well, well, 'tis no less true," said Porthos, delighted at the idea ofhaving jumped to a conclusion so closely in agreement with the greatestsages of antiquity.

  "Wonderfully--but suppose we return to Mouston. It seems to me, we haveleft him fattening under our very eyes."

  "Yes, monsieur," said Mouston.

  "Well," said Porthos, "Mouston fattened so well, that he gratified allmy hopes, by reaching my standard; a fact of which I was well able toconvince myself, by seeing the rascal, one day, in a waistcoat of mine,which he had turned into a coat--a waistcoat, the mere embroidery ofwhich was worth a hundred pistoles."

  "'Twas only to try it on, monsieur," said Mouston.

  "From that moment I determined to put Mouston in communication with mytailors, and to have him measured instead of myself."

  "A capital idea, Porthos; but Mouston is a foot and a half shorter thanyou."

  "Exactly! They measured him down to the ground, and the end of the skirtcame just below my knee."

  "What a marvelous man you are, Porthos! Such a thing could happen onlyto you."

  "Ah! yes; pay your compliments; you have ample grounds to go upon. Itwas exactly at that time--that is to say, nearly two years and a halfago--that I set out for Belle-Isle, instructing Mouston (so as alwaysto have, in every event, a pattern of every fashion) to have a coat madefor himself every month."

  "And did Mouston neglect complying with your instructions? Ah! that wasanything but right, Mouston."

  "No, monsieur, quite the contrary; quite the contrary!"

  "No, he never forgot to have his coats made; but he forgot to inform methat he had got stouter!"

  "But it was not my fault, monsieur! your tailor never told me."

  "And this to such an extent, monsieur," continued Porthos, "that thefellow in two years has gained eighteen inches in girth, and so my lastdozen coats are all too large, from a foot to a foot and a half."

  "But the rest; those which were made when you were of the same size?"

  "They are no longer the fashion, my dear friend. Were I to put them on,I should look like a fresh arrival from Siam; and as though I had beentwo years away from court."

  "I understand your difficulty. You have how many new suits?nine? thirty-six? and yet not one to wear. Well, you must have athirty-seventh made, and give the thirty-six to Mouston."

  "Ah! monsieur!" said Mouston, with a gratified air. "The truth is, thatmonsieur has always been very generous to me."

  "Do you mean to insinuate that I hadn't that idea, or that I wasdeterred by the expense? But it wants only two days to the _fete_; Ireceived the invitation yesterday; made Mouston post hither with mywardrobe, and only this morning discovered my misfortune; and from nowtill the day after to-morrow, there isn't a single fashionable tailorwho will undertake to make me a suit."

  "That is to say, one covered all over with gold, isn't it?"

  "I wish it so! undoubtedly, all over."

  "Oh, we shall manage it. You won't leave for three days. The invitationsare for Wednesday, and this is only Sunday morning."

  "'Tis true; but Aramis has strongly advised me to be at Vaux twenty-fourhours beforehand."

  "How, Aramis?"

  "Yes, it was Aramis who brought me the invitation."

  "Ah! to be sure, I see. You are invited on the part of M. Fouquet?"

  "By no means! by the king, dear friend. The letter bears the followingas large as life: 'M. le Baron du Vallon is informed that the king hascondescended to place him on the invitation list--'"

  "Very good; but you leave with M. Fouquet?"

  "And when I think," cried Porthos, stamping on the floor, "when I thinkI shall have no clothes, I am ready to burst with rage! I should like tostrangle somebody or smash something!"

  "Neither strangle anybody nor smash anything, Porthos; I will manage itall; put on one of your thirty-six suits, and come with me to a tailor."

  "Pooh! my agent has seen them all this morning."

  "Even M. Percerin?"

  "Who is M. Percerin?"

  "Oh! only the king's tailor!"

  "Oh, ah, yes," said Porthos, who wished to appear to know the king'stailor, but now heard his name mentioned for the first time; "to M.Percerin's, by Jove! I was afraid he would be too busy."

  "Doubtless he will be; but be at ease, Porthos; he will do for mewhat he wouldn't do for another. Only you must allow yourself to bemeasured!"

  "Ah!" said Porthos, with a sigh, "'tis vexatious, but what would youhave me do?"

  "Do? As others do; as the king does."

  "What! do they measure the king, too? does he put up with it?"

  "The king is a beau, my good friend, and so are you, too, whatever youmay say about it."

  Porthos smiled triumphantly. "Let us go to the king's tailor," he said;"and since he measures the king, I think, by my faith, I may do worsethan allow him to measure _me!_"