CHAPTER LXXVI.
HOW MOUSTON HAD BECOME FATTER WITHOUT GIVING PORTHOS NOTICE THEREOF, ANDOF THE TROUBLES WHICH CONSEQUENTLY BEFELL THAT WORTHY GENTLEMAN.
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 that court luxury which he hadwitnessed in all its dazzling brightness in his majesty's society.D'Artagnan, ever faithful, one morning during an interval of servicethought about Porthos, and being uneasy at not having heard anything ofhim for a fortnight, directed his steps toward his hotel and pouncedupon him just as he was getting up. The worthy baron had a pensive--nay,more than pensive--a 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 slashes ofill-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, whose personalcorpulency, quite enough at any time to hide one man from another, waseffectually doubled by a scarlet coat which the intendant was holding upfor his master's inspection, by the sleeves, that he might the bettersee it all over. D'Artagnan stopped at the threshold and looked at thepensive Porthos; and then, as the sight of the innumerable garmentsstrewing the floor caused mighty sighs to heave from the bosom of thatexcellent gentleman, D'Artagnan thought it time to put an end to thesedismal reflections, and coughed by way of announcing himself.
"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 thus foundhimself freed from the material obstacle which had prevented hisreaching 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 in the dumps 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 livres an ell! gorgeous satin! regalvelvet!"
"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 ahundred years, which wouldn't astonish me, you could still wear a newdress the day of your death, without being obliged to see the nose of asingle 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 out of it then; and the soonerthe better."
"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 thanthe estimate."
"Then has there 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 Valon has been destroyed by an earthquake?"
"No, my friend; on the contrary, the ground was struck by lightning ahundred 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," saidPorthos, 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 his hair in despair.
"Eh! good heavens, are you ill?" cried D'Artagnan.
"I am as well 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_ havegrown stouter."
"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 in 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 sparedme--"
"No, I do not, though."
"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 traveling; 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 your own."
"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 de Valon, 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 by rights tohave the compasses in their eye, came to make doorways through whichnobody but thin people could pass?"
"Oh, those doors," answered D'Artagnan, "were meant for gallants, andthey have generally slight and slender figures."
"Madame de Valon had no gallant!" answered Porthos, majestically.
"Perfectly true, my friend," resumed D'Artagnan; "but the architectswere imagining the possibility of your marrying again."
"Ah! that is possible," said Porthos. "And now I have received anexplanation how it is that doorways are made too narrow, let us returnto the subject of Mouston's fatness. But see how the two things apply toeach other. I have always noticed that ideas run parallel. And so,observe this phenomenon, D'Artagnan. I was talking to you of Mouston,who is fat, and it led us on to Madame de Valon--"
"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 concurred with the sages 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 wonder you are, Porthos! Such a thing could happen only to you."
"Ah! yes; pay your compliments; there is something to do it upon. It wasexactly at that time--that is to say, nearly two years and a halfago--that I set out for Belle-Isle, instructing Mouston (so as always tohave, 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! thatwould not be 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 think that I hadn't that idea, or that I was deterred bythe expense? But it wants only two days to the fete; I received theinvitation yesterday; made Mouston post hither with my wardrobe, andonly this morning discovered my misfortune; and from now till the dayafter to-morrow there isn't a single fashionable tailor who willundertake to make me a suit."
"That is to say, one covered all over with gold, isn't it!"
"I wish it so! 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 de Valon 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 destroy something!"
"Neither strangle anybody nor destroy anything, Porthos; I will manageit all; put on one of your thirty-six suits and come with me to atailor."
"Pooh! my agent has seen them all this morning."
"Even M. Percerin?"
"Who is M. Percerin?"
"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 thought he would be too much engaged."
"Doubtless he will be; but be at ease, Porthos; he will do for me whathe won't do for another. Only you must allow yourself to be measured!"
"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 well allowhim to measure me!"
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