CHAPTER XCIX.
IN WHICH PORTHOS THINKS HE IS PURSUING A DUCHY.
Aramis and Porthos, having profited by the time granted them by Fouquet,did honor to the French cavalry by their speed. Porthos did not clearlyunderstand for what kind of mission he was forced to display so muchvelocity; but as he saw Aramis spurring on furiously, he, Porthos,spurred on in the same manner. They had soon, in this manner, placedtwelve leagues between them and Vaux; they were then obliged to changehorses, and organize a sort of post arrangement. It was during a relaythat Porthos ventured to interrogate Aramis discreetly.
"Hush!" replied the latter; "know only that our fortune depends uponour speed."
As if Porthos had still been the musketeer, without a sou or a _maille_,of 1626, he pushed forward. The magic word "fortune" always meanssomething in the human ear. It means _enough_ for those who havenothing; it means _too much_ for those who have enough.
"I shall be made a duke!" said Porthos, aloud. He was speaking tohimself.
"That is possible," replied Aramis, smiling after his own fashion, asthe horse of Porthos passed him. The head of Aramis was,notwithstanding, on fire; the activity of the body had not yet succeededin subduing that of the mind. All that there is in raging passions, insevere toothaches, or mortal threats twisted, gnawed, and grumbled inthe thoughts of the vanquished prelate. His countenance exhibited veryvisible traces of this rude combat. Free upon the highway to abandonhimself to every impression of the moment, Aramis did not fail to swearat every start of his horse, at every inequality in the road. Pale, attimes inundated with boiling sweats, then again dry and icy, he beat hishorses and made the blood stream from their sides. Porthos, whosedominant fault was not sensibility, groaned at this. Thus traveled theyon for eight long hours, and then arrived at Orleans. It was fouro'clock in the afternoon. Aramis, on observing this, judged that nothingdemonstrated pursuit to be possible. It would be without example that atroop capable of taking him and Porthos should be furnished with relayssufficient to perform forty leagues in eight hours. Thus, admittingpursuit, which was not at all manifest, the fugitives were five hours inadvance of their pursuers.
Aramis thought that there might be no imprudence in taking a littlerest; but that to continue would make the matter more certain. Twentyleagues more performed with the same rapidity, twenty more leaguesdevoured, and no one, not even D'Artagnan, could overtake the enemies ofthe king. Aramis felt obliged, therefore, to inflict upon Porthos thepain of mounting on horseback again. They rode on till seven o'clock inthe evening, and had only one post more between them and Blois. But herea diabolical accident alarmed Aramis greatly. There were no horses atthe post. The prelate asked himself by what infernal machination hisenemies had succeeded in depriving him of the means of going further--hewho never recognized chance as a deity, he who found a cause for everyresult, he preferred believing that the refusal of the postmaster, atsuch an hour, in such a country, was the consequence of an orderemanating from above; an order given with a view of stopping short thekingmaker in the midst of his flight. But at the moment he was about tofly into a passion, so as to procure either a horse or an explanation,he was struck with the recollection that the Comte de la Fere lived inthe neighborhood.
"I am not traveling," said he; "I do not want horses for a whole stage.Find me two horses to go and pay a visit to a nobleman of myacquaintance who resides near this place."
"What nobleman?" asked the postmaster.
"M. le Comte de la Fere."
"Oh!" replied the postmaster, uncovering with respect, "a very worthynobleman. But, whatever may be my desire to make myself agreeable tohim, I cannot furnish you with horses, for all mine are engaged by M. leDuc de Beaufort."
"Indeed!" said Aramis, much disappointed.
"Only," continued the postmaster, "if you will put up with a littlecarriage I have, I will harness an old blind horse, who has still hislegs left, and will draw you to the house of M. le Comte de la Fere."
"That is worth a louis," said Aramis.
"No, monsieur, that is never worth more than a crown; that is what M.Grimaud, the comte's intendant, always pays me when he makes use of thatcarriage; and I should not wish the Comte de la Fere to have to reproachme with having imposed on one of his friends."
"As you please," said Aramis, "particularly as regards disobliging theComte de la Fere; only I think I have a right to give you a louis foryour idea."
"Oh! doubtless!" replied the postmaster, with delight. And he himselfharnessed the old horse to the creaking carriage. In the meantimePorthos was curious to behold. He imagined he had discovered the secret,and he felt pleased, because a visit to Athos, in the first place,promised him much satisfaction, and, in the next, gave him the hopes offinding at the same time a good bed and a good supper. The master,having got the carriage ready, ordered one of his men to drive thestrangers to La Fere. Porthos took his seat by the side of Aramis,whispering in his ear, "I understand."
"Ah! ah!" said Aramis, "and what do you understand, my friend?"
"We are going, on the part of the king, to make some great proposal toAthos."
"Pooh!" said Aramis.
"You need tell me nothing about it," added the worthy Porthos,endeavoring to place himself so as to avoid the jolting, "you need tellme nothing, I shall guess."
"Well! do, my friend; guess away."
They arrived at Athos' dwelling about nine o'clock in the evening,favored by a splendid moon. This cheerful light rejoiced Porthos beyondexpression; but Aramis appeared annoyed by it in an equal degree. Hecould not help showing something of this to Porthos, who replied, "Ay!ay! I guess how it is! the mission is a secret one."
These were his last words in the carriage. The driver interrupted him bysaying, "Gentlemen, you are arrived."
Porthos and his companion alighted before the gate of the littlechateau, where we are about to meet again with Athos and Bragelonne, thelatter of whom had disappeared since the discovery of the infidelity ofLa Valliere. If there be one saying more true than another, it is this:great griefs contain within themselves the germ of their consolation.This painful wound, inflicted upon Raoul, had drawn him nearer to hisfather again; and God knows how sweet were the consolations whichflowed from the eloquent mouth and generous heart of Athos. The woundwas not cicatrized, but Athos, by dint of conversing with his son andmixing a little more of his life with that of the young man, had broughthim to understand that this pang of a first infidelity is necessary toevery human existence; and that no one has loved without meeting withit. Raoul listened often, but never understood. Nothing replaces in thedeeply afflicted heart the remembrance and thought of the belovedobject. Raoul then replied to the reasonings of his father:
"Monsieur, all that you tell me is true; I believe that no one hassuffered in the affections of the heart so much as you have; but you area man too great from intelligence, and too severely tried bymisfortunes, not to allow for the weakness of the soldier who suffersfor the first time. I am paying a tribute which I shall not pay a secondtime; permit me to plunge myself so deeply in my grief that I may forgetmyself in it, that I may drown even my reason in it."
"Raoul! Raoul!"
"Listen, monsieur. Never shall I accustom myself to the idea, thatLouise, the most chaste and the most innocent of women, has been able sobasely to deceive a man so honest and so true a lover as I am. Never canI persuade myself that I see that sweet and good mask change into ahypocritical and lascivious face. Louise lost! Louise infamous! Ah!monseigneur, that idea is much more cruel to me than Raoulabandoned--Raoul unhappy!"
Athos then employed the heroic remedy. He defended Louise against Raoul,and justified her perfidy by her love. "A woman who would have yieldedto a king, because he is a king," said he, "would deserve to be styledinfamous; but Louise loves Louis. Both young, they have forgotten, hehis rank, she her vows. Love absolves everything, Raoul. The two youngpeople loved each other with sincerity."
And when he had dealt this severe poniard-thrust, Athos, with a
sigh,saw Raoul bound away under the cruel wound, and fly to the thickestrecesses of the wood, or the solitude of his chamber, whence, an hourafter, he would return, pale, trembling, but subdued. Then, coming up toAthos with a smile, he would kiss his hand, like the dog who, havingbeen beaten, caresses a good master, to redeem his fault. Raoul redeemednothing but his weakness, and only confessed his grief. Thus passed awaythe days that followed that scene in which Athos had so violently shakenthe indomitable pride of the king. Never, when conversing with his son,did he make any allusion to that scene; never did he give him thedetails of that vigorous lecture, which might, perhaps, have consoledthe young man, by showing him his rival humbled. Athos did not wish thatthe offended lover should forget the respect due to the king. And whenBragelonne, ardent, furious, and melancholy, spoke with contempt ofroyal words, of the equivocal faith which certain madmen draw frompromises falling from thrones, when, passing over two centuries, withthe rapidity of a bird which traverses a narrow strait, to go from oneworld to the other, Raoul ventured to predict the time in which kingswould become less than other men, Athos said to him, in his serenepersuasive voice, "You are right, Raoul; all that you say will happen;kings will lose their privileges, as stars which have completed theirtime lose their splendor. But when that moment shall come, Raoul, weshall be dead. And remember well what I say to you. In this world, all,men, women, and kings, must live for the present. We can only live forthe future for God."
This was the manner in which Athos and Raoul were, as usual, conversing,and walking backward and forward in the long alley of limes in the park,when the bell which served to announce to the comte either the hour ofdinner or the arrival of a visitor, was rung; and, without attaching anyimportance to it, he turned toward the house with his son; and at theend of the alley they found themselves in the presence of Aramis andPorthos.
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 100
