Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

  The king of England made his entree into Dover with great pomp, as heafterwards did in London. He had sent for his brothers; he had broughtover his mother and sister. England had been for so long a time given upto herself--that is to say, to tyranny, mediocrity, and nonsense--thatthis return of Charles II., whom the English only knew as the son of theman whose head they had cut off, was a festival for the threekingdoms. Consequently, all the good wishes, all the acclamationswhich accompanied his return, struck the young king so forcibly that hestooped and whispered in the ear of James of York, his younger brother,"In truth, James, it seems to have been our own fault that we were solong absent from a country where we are so much beloved!" The pageantwas magnificent. Beautiful weather favored the solemnity. Charleshad regained all his youth, all his good humor; he appeared to betransfigured; hearts seemed to smile on him like the sun. Amongst thisnoisy crowd of courtiers and worshippers, who did not appear to rememberthey had conducted to the scaffold at Whitehall the father of the newking, a man, in the garb of a lieutenant of musketeers, looked, witha smile upon his thin, intellectual lips, sometimes at the peoplevociferating their blessings, and sometimes at the prince, who pretendedemotion, and who bowed most particularly to the women, whose bouquetsfell beneath his horse's feet.

  "What a fine trade is that of king!" said this man, so completelyabsorbed in contemplation that he stopped in the middle of his road,leaving the cortege to file past. "Now, there is, in good truth, aprince all bespangled over with gold and diamonds, enamelled withflowers like a spring meadow; he is about to plunge his empty handsinto the immense coffer in which his now faithful--but so latelyunfaithful--subjects have amassed one or two cartloads of ingots ofgold. They cast bouquets enough upon him to smother him; and yet, if hehad presented himself to them two months ago, they would have sent asmany bullets and balls at him as they now throw flowers. Decidedly it isworth something to be born in a certain sphere, with due respect to thelowly, who pretend that it is of very little advantage to them to beborn lowly." The cortege continued to file on, and, with the king, theacclamations began to die away in the direction of the palace which,however, did not prevent our officer from being pushed about.

  "Mordioux!" continued the reasoner, "these people tread upon my toes andlook upon me as of very little consequence, or rather of none at all,seeing that they are Englishmen and I am a Frenchman. If all thesepeople were asked,--'Who is M. d'Artagnan?' they would reply, 'Nesciovos.' But let any one say to them, 'There is the king going by,' 'Thereis M. Monk going by,' they would run away, shouting,--'Vive le roi!''Vive M. Monk!' till their lungs were exhausted. And yet," continued he,surveying, with that look sometimes so keen and sometimes so proud, thediminishing crowd,--"and yet, reflect a little, my good people, on whatyour king has done, on what M. Monk has done, and then think what hasbeen done by this poor unknown, who is called M. d'Artagnan! It is trueyou do not know him, since he is here unknown, and that prevents yourthinking about the matter! But, bah! what matters it! All that does notprevent Charles II. from being a great king, although he has been exiledtwelve years, or M. Monk from being a great captain, although he didmake a voyage to Holland in a box. Well, then, since it is admitted thatone is a great king and the other a great captain,--'Hurrah for KingCharles II.!--Hurrah for General Monk!'" And his voice mingled withthe voices of the hundreds of spectators, over which it sounded for amoment. Then, the better to play the devoted man, he took off his hatand waved it in the air. Some one seized his arm in the very height ofhis expansive royalism. (In 1660 that was so termed which we now callroyalism.)

  "Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, "you here!" And the two friends seized eachother's hands.

  "You here!--and being here," continued the musketeer, "you are not inthe midst of all these courtiers my dear comte! What! you, the hero ofthe fete, you are not prancing on the left hand of the king, as M. Monkis prancing on the right? In truth, I cannot comprehend your character,nor that of the prince who owes you so much!"

  "Always scornful, my dear D'Artagnan!" said Athos. "Will you nevercorrect yourself of that vile habit?"

  "But, you do not form part of the pageant?"

  "I do not, because I was not willing to do so."

  "And why were you not willing?"

  "Because I am neither envoy nor ambassador, nor representative of theking of France; and it does not become me to exhibit myself thus nearthe person of another king than the one God has given me for a master."

  "Mordioux! you came very near to the person of the king, his father."

  "That was another thing, my friend; he was about to die."

  "And yet that which you did for him----"

  "I did it because it was my duty to do it. But you know I hate allostentation. Let King Charles II., then, who no longer stands in need ofme, leave me to my rest, and in the shadow; that is all I claim of him."

  D'Artagnan sighed.

  "What is the matter with you?" said Athos. "One would say that thishappy return of the king to London saddens you, my friend; you who havedone at least as much for his majesty as I have."

  "Have I not," replied D'Artagnan, with his Gascon laugh, "have I notdone much for his majesty, without any one suspecting it?"

  "Yes, yes, but the king is well aware of it my friend," cried Athos.

  "He is aware of it!" said the musketeer bitterly. "By my faith! I didnot suspect so, and I was even a moment ago trying to forget it myself."

  "But he, my friend, will not forget it, I will answer for him."

  "You tell me that to console me a little, Athos."

  "For what?"

  "Mordioux! for all the expense I incurred. I have ruined myself, myfriend, ruined myself for the restoration of this young prince who hasjust passed, cantering on his isabelle colored horse."

  "The king does not know you have ruined yourself, my friend, but heknows he owes you much."

  "And say, Athos, does that advance me in any respect? for, to do youjustice, you have labored nobly. But I--I, who in appearance marredyour combinations, it was I who really made them succeed. Follow mycalculations; closely, you might not have, by persuasions or mildnessconvinced General Monk, whilst I so roughly treated this dear general,that I furnished your prince with an opportunity of showing himselfgenerous: this generosity was inspired in him by the fact of myfortunate mistake, and Charles is paid by the restoration which Monk hasbrought about."

  "All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true," replied Athos.

  "Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, my friend,that I shall return--greatly beloved by M. Monk, who calls medear captain all day long, although I am neither dear to him nor acaptain;--and much appreciated by the king, who has already forgotten myname;--it is not less true, I say, that I shall return to my beautifulcountry, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopes of largepay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of whom I borrowed a part of hisfortune."

  "How is that? What the devil had Planchet to do in all this?"

  "Ah, yes, my friend, but this king, so spruce, so smiling, so adored,M. Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancy you have supported him,I fancy I have brought him back, the people fancy they have reconqueredhim, he himself fancies he has negotiated his restoration; and yetnothing of all this is true, for Charles II., king of England, Scotland,and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French grocer,who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is named Planchet. And such isgrandeur! 'Vanity!' says the Scripture: 'vanity, all is vanity.'"

  Athos could not help laughing at this whimsical outbreak of his friend.

  "My dear D'Artagnan," said he, pressing his hand affectionately, "shouldyou not exercise a little more philosophy? Is it not some furthersatisfaction to you to have saved my life as you did by arriving sofortunately with Monk, when those damned parliamentarians wanted to burnme alive?"

  "Well, but you, in some degree, deserved a little burning, my friend."

  "How so? What, for having saved King Charles's million?"

  "Wha
t million?"

  "Ah, that is true! you never knew that, my friend; but you must not beangry, for it was not my secret. That word 'Remember' which the kingpronounced upon the scaffold."

  "And which means 'souviens-toi!'"

  "Exactly. That was signified. 'Remember there is a million buried in thevaults of Newcastle Abbey, and that that million belongs to my son.'"

  "Ah! very well, I understand. But what I understand likewise, and whatis very frightful, is, that every time his majesty Charles II. willthink of me, he will say to himself: 'There is the man who came verynear making me lose my crown. Fortunately I was generous, great, full ofpresence of mind.' That will be said by the young gentleman in a shabbyblack doublet, who came to the chateau of Blois, hat in hand, to ask meif I would give him access to the king of France."

  "D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" said Athos, laying his hand on the shoulder ofthe musketeer, "you are unjust."

  "I have a right to be so."

  "No--for you are ignorant of the future."

  D'Artagnan looked his friend full in the face, and began to laugh. "Intruth, my dear Athos," said he, "you have some sayings so superb, thatthey only belong to you and M. le Cardinal Mazarin."

  Athos frowned slightly.

  "I beg your pardon," continued D'Artagnan, laughing, "I beg your pardon,if I have offended you. The future! Nein! what pretty words are wordsthat promise, and how well they fill the mouth in default of otherthings! Mordioux! After having met with so many who promised, when shallI find one who will give? But, let that pass!" continued D'Artagnan."What are you doing here, my dear Athos? Are you the king's treasurer?"

  "How--why the king's treasurer?"

  "Well, since the king possesses a million, he must want a treasurer.The king of France, although he is not worth a sou, has still asuperintendent of finance, M. Fouquet. It is true that, in exchange, M.Fouquet, they say, has a good number of millions of his own."

  "Oh! our million was spent long ago," said Athos, laughing in his turn.

  "I understand, it was frittered away in satin, precious stones, velvet,and feathers of all sorts and colors. All these princes and princessesstood in great need of tailors and dressmakers. Eh! Athos, do youremember what we fellows spent in equipping ourselves for the campaignof La Rochelle, and to make our appearance on horseback? Two or threethousand livres, by my faith! But a king's robe is more ample; it wouldrequire a million to purchase the stuff. At least, Athos, if you are nottreasurer, you are on a good footing at court."

  "By the faith of a gentleman, I know nothing about it," said Athos,simply.

  "What! you know nothing about it?"

  "No! I have not seen the king since we left Dover."

  "Then he has forgotten you, too! Mordioux! That is shameful!"

  "His majesty has had so much business to transact."

  "Oh!" cried D'Artagnan, with one of those intelligent grimaces which healone knew how to make, "that is enough to make me recover my love forMonseigneur Giulio Mazarini. What, Athos the king has not seen you sincethen?"

  "No."

  "And you are not furious?"

  "I! Why should I be? Do you imagine, my dear D'Artagnan, that it was onthe king's account I acted as I have done? I did not know the young man.I defended the father, who represented a principle--sacred in my eyes,and I allowed myself to be drawn towards the son from sympathy for thissame principle. Besides, he was a worthy knight, a noble creature, thatfather: do you remember him?"

  "Yes; that is true; he was a brave, an excellent man, who led a sadlife, but made a fine end."

  "Well, my dear D'Artagnan, understand this; to that king, to that manof heart, to that friend of my thoughts, if I durst venture to say so,I swore at the last hour to preserve faithfully the secret of a depositwhich was to be transmitted to his son, to assist him in his hour ofneed. This young man came to me; he described his destitution; he wasignorant that he was anything to me save a living memory of his father.I have accomplished towards Charles II. what I promised Charles I.; thatis all! Of what consequence is it to me, then, whether he be grateful ornot? It is to myself I have rendered a service, by relieving myself ofthis responsibility, and not to him."

  "Well, I have always said," replied D'Artagnan, with a sigh, "thatdisinterestedness was the finest thing in the world."

  "Well, and you, my friend," resumed Athos, "are you not in the samesituation as myself? If I have properly understood your words, youallowed yourself to be affected by the misfortunes of this young man;that, on your part, was much greater than it was upon mine, for I had aduty to fulfill, whilst you were under no obligation to the son of themartyr. You had not, on your part, to pay him the price of that preciousdrop of blood which he let fall upon my brow, through the floor of hisscaffold. That which made you act was heart alone--the noble and goodheart which you possess beneath your apparent skepticism and sarcasticirony; you have engaged the fortune of a servitor, and your own, Isuspect, my benevolent miser! and your sacrifice is not acknowledged!Of what consequence is it? You wish to repay Planchet his money. I cancomprehend that, my friend: for it is not becoming in a gentlemanto borrow from his inferior, without returning to him principal andinterest. Well, I will sell La Fere if necessary, and if not, somelittle farm. You shall pay Planchet, and there will be enough, believeme, of corn left in my granaries for us two and Raoul. In this way, myfriend, you will be under obligations to nobody but yourself, and, ifI know you well, it will not be a small satisfaction to your mind to beable to say, 'I have made a king!' Am I right?"

  "Athos! Athos!" murmured D'Artagnan, thoughtfully, "I have told youmore than once that the day on which you will preach I shall attend thesermon; the day on which you will tell me there is a hell--Mordioux! Ishall be afraid of the gridiron and the pitchforks. You are better thanI, or rather, better than anybody, and I only acknowledge the possessionof one quality, and that is, of not being jealous. Except that defect,damme, as the English say, if I have not all the rest."

  "I know no one equal to D'Artagnan," replied Athos; "but here weare, having quietly reached the house I inhabit. Will you come in, myfriend?"

  "Eh! why, this is the tavern of the Corne du Cerf, I think," saidD'Artagnan.

  "I confess I chose it on purpose. I like old acquaintances; I like tosit down on that place, whereon I sank, overcome by fatigue, overwhelmedwith despair, when you returned on the 31st of January."

  "After having discovered the abode of the masked executioner? Yes, thatwas a terrible day!"

  "Come in, then," said Athos, interrupting him.

  They entered the large apartment, formerly the common one. The tavern,in general, and this room in particular, had undergone great changes;the ancient host of the musketeers, having become tolerably rich for aninnkeeper, had closed his shop, and made of this room of which we werespeaking, a store-room for colonial provisions. As for the rest of thehouse, he let it ready furnished to strangers. It was with unspeakableemotion D'Artagnan recognized all the furniture of the chamber of thefirst story; the wainscoting, the tapestries, and even that geographicalchart which Porthos had so fondly studied in his moments of leisure.

  "It is eleven years ago," cried D'Artagnan. "Mordioux! it appears to mea century!"

  "And to me but a day," said Athos. "Imagine the joy I experience, myfriend, in seeing you there, in pressing your hand, in casting from mesword and dagger, and tasting without mistrust this glass of sherry.And, oh! what still further joy it would be, if our two friends werethere, at the two corners of the tables, and Raoul, my beloved Raoul, onthe threshold, looking at us with his large eyes, at once so brilliantand so soft!"

  "Yes, yes," said D'Artagnan, much affected, "that is true. I approveparticularly of the first part of your thought; it is very pleasant tosmile there where we have so legitimately shuddered in thinking thatfrom one moment to another M. Mordaunt might appear upon the landing."

  At this moment the door opened, and D'Artagnan, brave as he was, couldnot restrain a slight movement of fright. Athos understood
him, and,smiling,--

  "It is our host," said he, "bringing me a letter."

  "Yes, my lord," said the good man; "here is a letter for your honor."

  "Thank you," said Athos, taking the letter without looking at it. "Tellme, my dear host, if you do not remember this gentleman?"

  The old man raised his head, and looked attentively at D'Artagnan.

  "No," said he.

  "It is," said Athos, "one of those friends of whom I have spoken to you,and who lodged here with me eleven years ago."

  "Oh! but," said the old man, "so many strangers have lodged here!"

  "But we lodged here on the 30th of January, 1649," added Athos,believing he should stimulate the lazy memory of the host by thisremark.

  "That is very possible," replied he, smiling; "but it is so long ago!"and he bowed, and went out.

  "Thank you," said D'Artagnan--"perform exploits, accomplish revolutions,endeavor to engrave your name in stone or bronze with strong swords!there is something more rebellious, more hard, more forgetful than iron,bronze, or stone, and that is, the brain of a lodging-house keeper whohas grown rich in the trade,--he does not know me! Well, I should haveknown him, though."

  Athos, smiling at his friend's philosophy, unsealed his letter.

  "Ah!" said he, "a letter from Parry."

  "Oh! oh!" said D'Artagnan; "read it, my friend, read it! No doubt itcontains news."

  Athos shook his head, and read:

  Monsieur le Comte.--The king has experienced much regret at not seeingyou to-day beside him, at his entrance. His majesty commands me to sayso, and to recall him to your memory. His majesty will expect you thisevening, at the palace of St. James, between nine and ten o'clock.

  "I am, respectfully, monsieur le comte, your honor's very humble andvery obedient servant,--Parry."