Chapter VI. Showing What Could Be Seen from Planchet's House.
The next morning found the three heroes sleeping soundly. Truchen hadclosed the outside blinds to keep the first rays of the sun from theleaden-lidded eyes of her guests, like a kind, good housekeeper. Itwas still perfectly dark, then, beneath Porthos's curtains and underPlanchet's canopy, when D'Artagnan, awakened by an indiscreet ray oflight which made its way through a peek-hole in the shutters, jumpedhastily out of bed, as if he wished to be the first at a forlorn hope.He took by assault Porthos's room, which was next to his own. The worthyPorthos was sleeping with a noise like distant thunder; in the dimobscurity of the room his gigantic frame was prominently displayed, andhis swollen fist hung down outside the bed upon the carpet. D'Artagnanawoke Porthos, who rubbed his eyes in a tolerably good humor. In themeantime Planchet was dressing himself, and met at their bedroom doorshis two guests, who were still somewhat unsteady from their previousevening's entertainment. Although it was yet very early, the wholehousehold was already up. The cook was mercilessly slaughtering inthe poultry-yard; Celestin was gathering white cherries in the garden.Porthos, brisk and lively as ever, held out his hand to Planchet's, andD'Artagnan requested permission to embrace Madame Truchen. The latter,to show that she bore no ill-will, approached Porthos, upon whom sheconferred the same favor. Porthos embraced Madame Truchen, heaving anenormous sigh. Planchet took both his friends by the hand.
"I am going to show you over the house," he said; "when we arrived lastnight it was as dark as an oven, and we were unable to see anything;but in broad daylight, everything looks different, and you will besatisfied, I hope."
"If we begin by the view you have here," said D'Artagnan, "that charmsme beyond everything; I have always lived in royal mansions, you know,and royal personages have tolerably sound ideas upon the selection ofpoints of view."
"I am a great stickler for a good view myself," said Porthos. "At myChateau de Pierrefonds, I have had four avenues laid out, and at theend of each is a landscape of an altogether different character from theothers."
"You shall see _my_ prospect," said Planchet; and he led his two gueststo a window.
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan, "this is the Rue de Lyon."
"Yes, I have two windows on this side, a paltry, insignificant view,for there is always that bustling and noisy inn, which is a verydisagreeable neighbor. I had four windows here, but I bricked up two."
"Let us go on," said D'Artagnan.
They entered a corridor leading to the bedrooms, and Planchet pushedopen the outside blinds.
"Hollo! what is that out yonder?" said Porthos.
"The forest," said Planchet. "It is the horizon,--a thick line of green,which is yellow in the spring, green in the summer, red in the autumn,and white in the winter."
"All very well, but it is like a curtain, which prevents one seeing agreater distance."
"Yes," said Planchet; "still, one can see, at all events, everythingthat intervenes."
"Ah, the open country," said Porthos. "But what is that I see outthere,--crosses and stones?"
"Ah, that is the cemetery," exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Precisely," said Planchet; "I assure you it is very curious. Hardly aday passes that some one is not buried there; for Fontainebleau is by nomeans an inconsiderable place. Sometimes we see young girls clothed inwhite carrying banners; at others, some of the town-council, or richcitizens, with choristers and all the parish authorities; and then, too,we see some of the officers of the king's household."
"I should not like that," said Porthos.
"There is not much amusement in it, at all events," said D'Artagnan.
"I assure you it encourages religious thoughts," replied Planchet.
"Oh, I don't deny that."
"But," continued Planchet, "we must all die one day or another, andI once met with a maxim somewhere which I have remembered, that thethought of death is a thought that will do us all good."
"I am far from saying the contrary," said Porthos.
"But," objected D'Artagnan, "the thought of green fields, flowers,rivers, blue horizons, extensive and boundless plains, is not likely todo us good."
"If I had any, I should be far from rejecting them," said Planchet; "butpossessing only this little cemetery, full of flowers, so moss-grown,shady, and quiet, I am contented with it, and I think of those who livein town, in the Rue des Lombards, for instance, and who have to listento the rumbling of a couple of thousand vehicles every day, and tothe soulless tramp, tramp, tramp of a hundred and fifty thousandfoot-passengers."
"But living," said Porthos; "living, remember that."
"That is exactly the reason," said Planchet, timidly, "why I feel itdoes me good to contemplate a few dead."
"Upon my word," said D'Artagnan, "that fellow Planchet is born aphilosopher as well as a grocer."
"Monsieur," said Planchet, "I am one of those good-humored sort of menwhom Heaven created for the purpose of living a certain span of days,and of considering all good they meet with during their transitory stayon earth."
D'Artagnan sat down close to the window, and as there seemed to besomething substantial in Planchet's philosophy, he mused over it.
"Ah, ah!" exclaimed Planchet, "if I am not mistaken, we are going tohave a representation now, for I think I heard something like chanting."
"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "I hear singing too."
"Oh, it is only a burial of a very poor description," said Planchet,disdainfully; "the officiating priest, the beadle, and only onechorister boy, nothing more. You observe, messieurs, that the defunctlady or gentleman could not have been of very high rank."
"No; no one seems to be following the coffin."
"Yes," said Porthos; "I see a man."
"You are right; a man wrapped in a cloak," said D'Artagnan.
"It's not worth looking at," said Planchet.
"I find it interesting," said D'Artagnan, leaning on the window-sill.
"Come, come, you are beginning to take a fancy to the place already,"said Planchet, delightedly; "it is exactly my own case. I was somelancholy at first that I could do nothing but make the sign of thecross all day, and the chants were like so many nails being driven intomy head; but now, they lull me to sleep, and no bird I have ever seenor heard can sing better than those which are to be met with in thiscemetery."
"Well," said Porthos, "this is beginning to get a little dull for me,and I prefer going downstairs."
Planchet with one bound was beside his guest, whom he offered to leadinto the garden.
"What!" said Porthos to D'Artagnan, as he turned round, "are you goingto remain here?"
"Yes, I will join you presently."
"Well, M. D'Artagnan is right, after all," said Planchet: "are theybeginning to bury yet?"
"Not yet."
"Ah! yes, the grave-digger is waiting until the cords are fastened roundthe bier. But, see, a woman has just entered the cemetery at the otherend."
"Yes, yes, my dear Planchet," said D'Artagnan, quickly, "leave me,leave me; I feel I am beginning already to be much comforted by mymeditations, so do not interrupt me."
Planchet left, and D'Artagnan remained, devouring with his eager gazefrom behind the half-closed blinds what was taking place just beforehim. The two bearers of the corpse had unfastened the straps by whichthey carried the litter, and were letting their burden glide gently intothe open grave. At a few paces distant, the man with the cloak wrappedround him, the only spectator of this melancholy scene, was leaningwith his back against a large cypress-tree, and kept his face and personentirely concealed from the grave-diggers and the priests; the corpsewas buried in five minutes. The grave having been filled up, the prieststurned away, and the grave-digger having addressed a few words to them,followed them as they moved away. The man in the mantle bowed as theypassed him, and put a piece of gold into the grave-digger's hand.
"_Mordioux!_" murmured D'Artagnan; "it is Aramis himself."
Aramis, in fact, remained alone, on
that side at least; for hardly hadhe turned his head when a woman's footsteps, and the rustling of herdress, were heard in the path close to him. He immediately turned round,and took off his hat with the most ceremonious respect; he led the ladyunder the shelter of some walnut and lime trees, which overshadowed amagnificent tomb.
"Ah! who would have thought it," said D'Artagnan; "the bishop ofVannes at a rendezvous! He is still the same Abbe Aramis as he wasat Noisy-le-Sec. Yes," he added, after a pause; "but as it is in acemetery, the rendezvous is sacred." But he almost laughed.
The conversation lasted for fully half an hour. D'Artagnan could not seethe lady's face, for she kept her back turned towards him; but he sawperfectly well, by the erect attitude of both the speakers, by theirgestures, by the measured and careful manner with which they glancedat each other, either by way of attack or defense, that they must beconversing about any other subject than of love. At the end of theconversation the lady rose, and bowed profoundly to Aramis.
"Oh, oh," said D'Artagnan; "this rendezvous finishes like one of a verytender nature though. The cavalier kneels at the beginning, theyoung lady by and by gets tamed down, and then it is she who has tosupplicate. Who is this lady? I would give anything to ascertain."
This seemed impossible, however, for Aramis was the first to leave;the lady carefully concealed her head and face, and then immediatelydeparted. D'Artagnan could hold out no longer; he ran to the windowwhich looked out on the Rue de Lyon, and saw Aramis entering the inn.The lady was proceeding in quite an opposite direction, and seemed, infact, to be about to rejoin an equipage, consisting of two led horsesand a carriage, which he could see standing close to the borders ofthe forest. She was walking slowly, her head bent down, absorbed in thedeepest meditation.
"_Mordioux! Mordioux!_ I must and will learn who that woman is," saidthe musketeer again; and then, without further deliberation, he set offin pursuit of her. As he was going along, he tried to think how he couldpossibly contrive to make her raise her veil. "She is not young," hesaid, "and is a woman of high rank in society. I ought to know thatfigure and peculiar style of walk." As he ran, the sound of his spursand of his boots upon the hard ground of the street made a strangejingling noise; a fortunate circumstance in itself, which he was farfrom reckoning upon. The noise disturbed the lady; she seemed to fancyshe was being either followed or pursued, which was indeed the case, andturned round. D'Artagnan started as if he had received a charge of smallshot in his legs, and then turning suddenly round as if he were goingback the same way he had come, he murmured, "Madame de Chevreuse!"D'Artagnan would not go home until he had learnt everything. He askedCelestin to inquire of the grave-digger whose body it was they hadburied that morning.
"A poor Franciscan mendicant friar," replied the latter, "who had noteven a dog to love him in this world, and to accompany him to his lastresting-place."
"If that were really the case," thought D'Artagnan, "we should nothave found Aramis present at his funeral. The bishop of Vannes is notprecisely a dog as far as devotion goes: his scent, however, is quite askeen, I admit."
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