Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

  Athos and Monk passed over, in going from the camp towards the Tweed,that part of the ground which Digby had traversed with the fishermencoming from the Tweed to the camp. The aspect of this place, the aspectof the changes man had wrought in it, was of a nature to produce a greateffect upon a lively and delicate imagination like that of Athos. Athoslooked at nothing but these desolate spots; Monk looked at nothing butAthos--at Athos, who, with his eyes sometimes directed towards heaven,and sometimes towards the earth, sought, thought, and sighed.

  Digby, whom the last orders of the general, and particularly the accentwith which he had given them, had at first a little excited, followedthe pair at about twenty paces, but the general having turned round asif astonished to find his orders had not been obeyed, the aid-de-campperceived his indiscretion and returned to his tent.

  He supposed that the general wished to make, incognito, one of thosereviews of vigilance which every experienced captain never fails tomake on the eve of a decisive engagement: he explained to himself thepresence of Athos in this case as an inferior explains all that ismysterious on the part of his leader. Athos might be, and, indeed, inthe eyes of Digby, must be, a spy, whose information was to enlightenthe general.

  At the end of a walk of about ten minutes among the tents and posts,which were closer together near the headquarters, Monk entered upon alittle causeway which diverged into three branches. That on the left ledto the river, that in the middle to Newcastle Abbey on the marsh, thaton the right crossed the first lines of Monk's camp, that is to say, thelines nearest to Lambert's army. Beyond the river was an advanced postbelonging to Monk's army, which watched the enemy; it was composed ofone hundred and fifty Scots. They had swum across the Tweed, and, incase of attack, were to recross it in the same manner, giving the alarm;but as there was no post at that spot, and as Lambert's soldiers werenot so prompt at taking to the water as Monk's were, the latter appearednot to have much uneasiness on that side. On this side of the river, atabout five hundred paces from the old abbey, the fishermen had taken uptheir abode amidst a crowd of small tents raised by the soldiers of theneighboring clans, who had with them their wives and children. All thisconfusion, seen by the moon's light, presented a striking coup d'oeil;the half shadow enlarged every detail, and the light, that flattererwhich only attaches itself to the polished side of things, courted uponeach rusty musket the point still left intact, and upon every rag ofcanvas the whitest and least sullied part.

  Monk arrived then with Athos, crossing this spot, illumined with adouble light, the silver splendor of the moon, and the red blaze ofthe fires at the meeting of the three causeways; there he stopped, andaddressing his companion,--"Monsieur," said he, "do you know your road?"

  "General, if I am not mistaken, the middle causeway leads straight tothe abbey."

  "That is right; but we shall want lights to guide us in the vaults."Monk turned round.

  "Ah! I thought Digby was following us!" said he. "So much the better; hewill procure us what we want."

  "Yes, general, there is a man yonder who has been walking behind us forsome time."

  "Digby!" cried Monk. "Digby! come here, if you please."

  But, instead of obeying, the shadow made a motion of surprise, and,retreating instead of advancing, it bent down and disappeared alongthe jetty on the left, directing its course towards the lodging of thefishermen.

  "It appears not to be Digby," said Monk.

  Both had followed the shadow which had vanished. But it was not so rarea thing for a man to be wandering about at eleven o'clock at night, ina camp in which are reposing ten or eleven thousand men, as to give Monkand Athos any alarm at his disappearance.

  "As it is so," said Monk, "and we must have a light, a lantern, a torch,or something by which we may see where to set our feet, let us seek thislight."

  "General, the first soldier we meet will light us."

  "No," said Monk, in order to discover if there were not any connivancebetween the Comte de la Fere and the fisherman. "No, I should preferone of these French sailors who came this evening to sell me theirfish. They leave to-morrow, and the secret will be better kept by them;whereas, if a report should be spread in the Scotch army, that treasuresare to be found in the abbey of Newcastle, my Highlanders will believethere is a million concealed beneath every slab, and they will not leavestone upon stone in the building."

  "Do as you think best, general," replied Athos in a natural tone ofvoice, making evident that soldier or fisherman was the same to him, andthat he had no preference.

  Monk approached the causeway behind which had disappeared the person hehad taken for Digby, and met a patrol who, making the tour of the tents,was going towards headquarters; he was stopped with his companion, gavethe password, and went on. A soldier, roused by the noise, unrolled hisplaid, and looked up to see what was going forward. "Ask him," said Monkto Athos, "where the fishermen are; if I were to speak to him, he wouldknow me."

  Athos went up to the soldier, who pointed out the tent to him;immediately Monk and Athos turned towards it. It appeared to the generalthat at the moment they came up, a shadow like that they had alreadyseen glided into this tent; but on drawing nearer he perceived he musthave been mistaken, for all of them were asleep pele mele, and nothingwas seen but arms and legs joined, crossed, and mixed. Athos, fearinglest he should be suspected of connivance with some of his compatriots,remained outside the tent.

  "Hola!" said Monk, in French, "wake up here." Two or three of thesleepers got up.

  "I want a man to light me," continued Monk.

  "Your honor may depend upon us," said a voice which made Athos start."Where do you wish us to go?"

  "You shall see. A light! come, quickly!"

  "Yes, your honor. Does it please your honor that I should accompanyyou?"

  "You or another, it is of very little consequence, provided I have alight."

  "It is strange!" thought Athos, "what a singular voice that man has!"

  "Some fire, you fellows!" cried the fisherman; "come, make haste!"

  Then addressing his companion nearest to him in a low voice:--"Get alight, Menneville," said he, "and hold yourself ready for anything."

  One of the fishermen struck light from a stone, set fire to some tinder,and by the aid of a match lit a lantern. The light immediately spreadall over the tent.

  "Are you ready, monsieur?" said Monk to Athos, who had turned away, notto expose his face to the light.

  "Yes, general," replied he.

  "Ah! the French gentleman!" said the leader of the fishermen tohimself. "Peste! I have a great mind to charge you with the commission,Menneville; he may know me. Light! light!" This dialogue was pronouncedat the back of the tent, and in so low a voice that Monk could not heara syllable of it; he was, besides, talking with Athos. Menneville gothimself ready in the meantime, or rather received the orders of hisleader.

  "Well?" said Monk.

  "I am ready, general," said the fisherman.

  Monk, Athos, and the fisherman left the tent.

  "It is impossible!" thought Athos. "What dream could put that into myhead?"

  "Go forward; follow the middle causeway, and stretch out your legs,"said Monk to the fisherman.

  They were not twenty paces on their way when the same shadow that hadappeared to enter the tent came out of it again, crawled along as faras the piles, and, protected by that sort of parapet placed alongthe causeway, carefully observed the march of the general. All threedisappeared in the night haze. They were walking towards Newcastle, thewhite stones of which appeared to them like sepulchres. After standingfor a few seconds under the porch, they penetrated into the interior.The door had been broken open by hatchets. A post of four men slept insafety in a corner, so certain were they that the attack would not takeplace on that side.

  "Will not these men be in your way?" said Monk to Athos.

  "On the contrary, monsieur, they will assist in rolling out the barrels,if your honor will permit them."

  "You are right."


  The post, though fast asleep, roused up at the first steps of the threevisitors amongst the briars and grass that invaded the porch. Monk gavethe password, and penetrated into the interior of the convent, precededby the light. He walked last, watching the least movement of Athos, hisnaked dirk in his sleeve, and ready to plunge it into the back of thegentleman at the first suspicious gesture he should see him make. ButAthos, with a firm and sure step, crossed the chambers and courts.

  Not a door, not a window was left in this building. The doors had beenburnt, some on the spot, and the charcoal of them was still jagged withthe action of the fire, which had gone out of itself, powerless, nodoubt, to get to the heart of those massive joints of oak fastenedtogether with iron nails. As to the windows, all the panes having beenbroken, night birds, alarmed by the torch, flew away through theirholes. At the same time, gigantic bats began to trace their vast, silentcircles around the intruders, whilst the light of the torch made theirshadows tremble on the high stone walls. Monk concluded there could beno man in the convent, since wild beasts and birds were there still, andfled away at his approach.

  After having passed the rubbish, and torn away more than one branch ofivy that had made itself a guardian of the solitude, Athos arrived atthe vaults situated beneath the great hall, but the entrance of whichwas from the chapel. There he stopped. "Here we are, general," said he.

  "This, then, is the slab?"

  "Yes."

  "Ay, and here is the ring--but the ring is sealed into the stone."

  "We must have a lever."

  "That's a thing very easy to find."

  Whilst looking round them, Athos and Monk perceived a little ash ofabout three inches in diameter, which had shot up in an angle of thewall, reaching a window, concealed by its branches.

  "Have you a knife?" said Monk to the fisherman.

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "Cut down this tree; then."

  The fisherman obeyed, but not without notching his cutlass. When theash was cut and fashioned into the shape of a lever, the three menpenetrated into the vault.

  "Stop where you are," said Monk to the fisherman. "We are going to digup some powder; your light may be dangerous."

  The man drew back in a sort of terror, and faithfully kept to the postassigned him, whilst Monk and Athos turned behind a column at the footof which, penetrating through a crack, was a moonbeam, reflected exactlyon the stone which the Comte de la Fere had come so far in search.

  "This is it," said Athos, pointing out to the general the Latininscription.

  "Yes," said Monk.

  Then, as if still willing to leave the Frenchman one means of evasion,--

  "Do you not observe that this vault has already been broken into,"continued he, "and that several statues have been knocked down?"

  "My lord, you have, without doubt, heard that the religious respectof your Scots loves to confide to the statues of the dead the valuableobjects they have possessed during their lives. Therefore, the soldiershad reason to think that under the pedestals of the statues whichornament most of these tombs, a treasure was hidden. They haveconsequently broken down pedestal and statue: but the tomb of thevenerable canon, with which we have to do, is not distinguished byany monument. It is simple, therefore it has been protected by thesuperstitious fear which your Puritans have always had of sacrilege. Nota morsel of the masonry of this tomb has been chipped off."

  "That is true," said Monk.

  Athos seized the lever.

  "Shall I help you?" said Monk.

  "Thank you, my lord; but I am not willing that your honor shouldlend your hand to a work of which, perhaps, you would not take theresponsibility if you knew the probable consequences of it."

  Monk raised his head.

  "What do you mean by that, monsieur?"

  "I mean--but that man----"

  "Stop," said Monk; "I perceive what you are afraid of. I shall make atrial." Monk turned towards the fisherman, the whole of whose profilewas thrown upon the wall.

  "Come here, friend!" said he in English, and in a tone of command.

  The fisherman did not stir.

  "That is well," continued he: "he does not know English. Speak to me,then, in English, if you please, monsieur."

  "My lord," replied Athos, "I have frequently seen men in certaincircumstances have sufficient command over themselves not to reply toa question put to them in a language they understood. The fisherman isperhaps more learned than we believe him to be. Send him away, my lord,I beg you."

  "Decidedly," said Monk, "he wishes to have me alone in this vault. Nevermind, we shall go through with it; one man is as good as another man;and we are alone. My friend," said Monk to the fisherman, "go backup the stairs we have just descended, and watch that nobody comes todisturb us." The fisherman made a sign of obedience. "Leave your torch,"said Monk; "it would betray your presence, and might procure you amusket-ball."

  The fisherman appeared to appreciate the counsel; he laid down thelight, and disappeared under the vault of the stairs. Monk took up thetorch, and brought it to the foot of the column.

  "Ah, ah!" said he; "money, then, is concealed under this tomb?"

  "Yes, my lord; and in five minutes you will no longer doubt it."

  At the same time Athos struck a violent blow upon the plaster, whichsplit, presenting a chink for the point of the lever. Athos introducedthe bar into this crack, and soon large pieces of plaster yielded,rising up like rounded slabs. Then the Comte de la Fere seized thestones and threw them away with a force that hands so delicate as hismight not have been supposed capable of having.

  "My lord," said Athos, "this is plainly the masonry of which I told yourhonor."

  "Yes; but I do not yet see the casks," said Monk.

  "If I had a dagger," said Athos, looking round him, "you should soon seethem, monsieur. Unfortunately, I left mine in your tent."

  "I would willingly offer you mine," said Monk, "but the blade is toothin for such work."

  Athos appeared to look around him for a thing of some kind that mightserve as a substitute for the weapon he desired. Monk did not lose oneof the movements of his hands, or one of the expressions of his eyes."Why do you not ask the fisherman for his cutlass?" said Monk; "he has acutlass."

  "Ah! that is true," said Athos, "for he cut the tree down with it." Andhe advanced towards the stairs.

  "Friend," said he to the fisherman, "throw me down your cutlass, if youplease; I want it."

  The noise of the falling weapon sounded on the steps.

  "Take it," said Monk; "it is a solid instrument, as I have seen, and astrong hand might make good use of it."

  Athos only appeared to give to the words of Monk the natural and simplesense under which they were to be heard and understood. Nor did heremark, or at least appear to remark, that when he returned with theweapon, Monk drew back, placing his left hand on the stock of hispistol; in the right he already held his dirk. He went to work then,turning his back to Monk, placing his life in his hands, withoutpossible defense. He then struck, during several seconds, so skillfullyand sharply upon the intermediary plaster, that it separated into twoparts, and Monk was able to discern two barrels placed end to end, andwhich their weight maintained motionless in their chalky envelope.

  "My lord," said Athos, "you see that my presentiments have not beendisappointed."

  "Yes, monsieur," said Monk, "and I have good reason to believe you aresatisfied; are you not?"

  "Doubtless, I am; the loss of this money would have been inexpressiblygreat to me: but I was certain that God, who protects the good cause,would not have permitted this gold, which should procure its triumph, tobe diverted to baser purposes."

  "You are, upon my honor, as mysterious in your words as in your actions,monsieur," said Monk. "Just now I did not perfectly understand you whenyou said that you were not willing to throw upon me the responsibilityof the work we were accomplishing."

  "I had reason to say so, my lord."

  "And now you spea
k to me of the good cause. What do you mean by thewords 'the good cause'? We are defending at this moment, in England,five or six causes, which does not prevent every one from consideringhis own not only as the good cause, but as the best. What is yours,monsieur? Speak boldly, that we may see if, upon this point, to whichyou appear to attach a great importance, we are of the same opinion."

  Athos fixed upon Monk one of those penetrating looks which seem toconvey to him to whom they are directed a challenge to conceal a singleone of his thoughts; then, taking off his hat, he began in a solemnvoice, while his interlocutor, with one hand upon his visage, allowedthat long and nervous hand to compress his mustache and beard, while hisvague and melancholy eye wandered about the recesses of the vaults.

  CHAPTER 26. Heart and Mind