They both alighted. The stone had been brought with the evident intention of barricading the road, but some one having perceived the obstacle had partially turned it aside.


With the assistance of Blaisois and Grimaud the friends succeeded in turning the stone over. Upon the side next the ground were scratched the following words:


"Eight of the light dragoons are pursuing us. If we reach Compiègne we shall stop at the Peacock. It is kept by a friend of ours."


"At last we have something definite," said Athos; "let us go to the Peacock."


"Yes," answered Aramis, "but if we are to get there we must rest our horses, for they are almost broken-winded."


Aramis was right; they stopped at the first tavern and made each horse swallow a double quantity of corn steeped in wine; they gave them three hours' rest and then set off again. The men themselves were almost dead with fatigue, but hope supported them.


In six hours they reached Compiègne and alighted at the Peacock. The host proved to be a worthy man, as bald as a Chinaman. They asked him if some time ago he had not received in his house two gentlemen who were pursued by dragoons; without answering he went out and brought in the blade of a rapier.


"Do you know that?" he asked.


Athos merely glanced at it.


"'Tis D'Artagnan's sword," he said.


"Does it belong to the smaller or to the larger of the two?" asked the host.


"To the smaller."


"I see that you are the friends of these gentlemen."


"Well, what has happened to them?"


"They were pursued by eight of the light dragoons, who rode into the courtyard before they had time to close the gate."


"Eight!" said Aramis; "it surprises me that two such heroes as Porthos and D'Artagnan should have allowed themselves to be arrested by eight men."


"The eight men would doubtless have failed had they not been assisted by twenty soldiers of the regiment of Italians in the king's service, who are in garrison in this town so that your friends were overpowered by numbers."


"Arrested, were they?" inquired Athos; "is it known why?"


"No, sir, they were carried off instantly, and had not even time to tell me why; but as soon as they were gone I found this broken sword-blade, as I was helping to raise two dead men and five or six wounded ones."


"'Tis still a consolation that they were not wounded," said Aramis.


"Where were they taken?" asked Athos.


"Toward the town of Louvres," was the reply.


The two friends having agreed to leave Blaisois and Grimaud at Compiègne with the horses, resolved to take post horses; and having snatched a hasty dinner they continued their journey to Louvres. Here they found only one inn, in which was consumed a liqueur which preserves its reputation to our time and which is still made in that town.


"Let us alight here," said Athos. "D'Artagnan will not have let slip an opportunity of drinking a glass of this liqueur, and at the same time leaving some trace of himself."


They went into the town and asked for two glasses of liqueur, at the counter—as their friends must have done before them. The counter was covered with a plate of pewter; upon this plate was written with the point of a large pin: "Rueil... D.."


"They went to Rueil," cried Aramis.


"Let us go to Rueil," said Athos.


"It is to throw ourselves into the wolf's jaws," said Aramis.


"Had I been as great a friend of Jonah as I am of D'Artagnan I should have followed him even into the inside of the whale itself; and you would have done the same, Aramis."


"Certainly—but you make me out better than I am, dear count. Had I been alone I should scarcely have gone to Rueil without great caution. But where you go, I go."


They then set off for Rueil. Here the deputies of the parliament had just arrived, in order to enter upon those famous conferences which were to last three weeks, and produced eventually that shameful peace, at the conclusion of which the prince was arrested. Rueil was crowded with advocates, presidents and councillors, who came from the Parisians, and, on the side of the court, with officers and guards; it was therefore easy, in the midst of this confusion, to remain as unobserved as any one might wish; besides, the conferences implied a truce, and to arrest two gentlemen, even Frondeurs, at this time, would have been an attack on the rights of the people.


The two friends mingled with the crowd and fancied that every one was occupied with the same thought that tormented them. They expected to hear some mention made of D'Artagnan or of Porthos, but every one was engrossed by articles and reforms. It was the advice of Athos to go straight to the minister.


"My friend," said Aramis, "take care; our safety lies in our obscurity. If we were to make ourselves known we should be sent to rejoin our friends in some deep ditch, from which the devil himself could not take us out. Let us try not to find them out by accident, but from our notions. Arrested at Compiègne, they have been carried to Rueil; at Rueil they have been questioned by the cardinal, who has either kept them near him or sent them to Saint Germain. As to the Bastile, they are not there, though the Bastile is especially for the Frondeurs. They are not dead, for the death of D'Artagnan would make a sensation. As for Porthos, I believe him to be eternal, like God, although less patient. Do not let us despond, but wait at Rueil, for my conviction is that they are at Rueil. But what ails you? You are pale."


"It is this," answered Athos, with a trembling voice.


"I remember that at the Castle of Rueil the Cardinal Richelieu had some horrible 'oubliettes' constructed."


"Oh! never fear," said Aramis. "Richelieu was a gentleman, our equal in birth, our superior in position. He could, like the king, touch the greatest of us on the head, and touching them make such heads shake on their shoulders. But Mazarin is a low-born rogue, who can at the most take us by the collar, like an archer. Be calm—for I am sure that D'Artagnan and Porthos are at Rueil, alive and well."


"But," resumed Athos, "I recur to my first proposal. I know no better means than to act with candor. I shall seek, not Mazarin, but the queen, and say to her, 'Madame, restore to us your two servants and our two friends.'"


"'Tis a last resource, but let us not employ it till it is imperatively called for; let us rather persevere in our researches."


They continued their inquiries and at last met with a light dragoon who had formed one of the guard which had escorted D'Artagnan to Rueil.


Athos, however, perpetually recurred to his proposed interview with the queen.


"In order to see the queen," said Aramis, "we must first see the cardinal; and when we have seen the cardinal—remember what I tell you, Athos—we shall be reunited to our friends, but not in the way you wish. Now, that way of joining them is not very attractive to me, I confess. Let us act in freedom, that we may act well and quickly."


"I shall go," he said, "to the queen."


"Well, then," answered Aramis, "pray tell me a day or two beforehand, that I may take that opportunity of going to Paris."


"Zounds! how do I know? perhaps to Madame de Longueville. She is all-powerful yonder; she will help me. But send me word should you be arrested, for then I will return directly."


"Why do you not take your chance and be arrested with me?"


"No, I thank you."


"Should we, by being arrested, be all four together again, we should not, I am not sure, be twenty-four hours in prison without getting free."


"My friend, since I killed Châtillon, adored of the ladies of Saint Germain, I am too great a celebrity not to fear a prison doubly. The queen is likely to follow Mazarin's counsels and to have me tried."


"Do you think she loves this Italian so much as they say she does?"


"Did she not love an Englishman?"


"My friend, she is a woman."


"No, no, you are deceived—she is a queen."


"Dear friend, I shall sacrifice myself and go and see Anne of Austria."


"Adieu, Athos, I am going to raise an army."


"To come back and besiege Rueil."


"Where shall we meet again?"


"At the foot of the cardinal's gallows."


The two friends departed—Aramis to return to Paris, Athos to take measures preparatory to an interview with the queen.


Chapter LXXX. The Gratitude of Anne of Austria.


Athos found much less difficulty than he had expected in obtaining an audience of Anne of Austria. It was granted, and was to take place after her morning's "levee," at which, in accordance with his rights of birth, he was entitled to be present. A vast crowd filled the apartments of Saint Germain. Anne had never at the Louvre had so large a court; but this crowd represented chiefly the second class of nobility, while the Prince de Conti, the Duc de Beaufort and the coadjutor assembled around them the first nobility of France.


The greatest possible gayety prevailed at court. The particular characteristic of this was that more songs were made than cannons fired during its continuance. The court made songs on the Parisians and the Parisians on the court; and the casualties, though not mortal, were painful, as are all wounds inflicted by the weapon of ridicule.


In the midst of this seeming hilarity, nevertheless, people's minds were uneasy. Was Mazarin to remain the favorite and minister of the queen? Was he to be carried back by the wind which had blown him there? Every one hoped so, so that the minister felt that all around him, beneath the homage of the courtiers, lay a fund of hatred, ill disguised by fear and interest. He felt ill at ease and at a loss what to do.


Condé himself, whilst fighting for him, lost no opportunity of ridiculing, of humbling him. The queen, on whom he threw himself as sole support, seemed to him now not much to be relied upon.


When the hour appointed for the audience arrived Athos was obliged to stay until the queen, who was waited upon by a new deputation from Paris, had consulted with her minister as to the propriety and manner of receiving them. All were fully engrossed with the affairs of the day; Athos could not therefore have chosen a more inauspicious moment to speak of his friends—poor atoms, lost in that raging whirlwind.


But Athos was a man of inflexible determination; he firmly adhered to a purpose once formed, when it seemed to him to spring from conscience and to be prompted by a sense of duty. He insisted on being introduced, saying that although he was not a deputy from Monsieur de Conti, or Monsieur de Beaufort, or Monsieur de Bouillon, or Monsieur d'Elbeuf, or the coadjutor, or Madame de Longueville, or Broussel, or the Parliament, and although he had come on his own private account, he nevertheless had things to say to her majesty of the utmost importance.


The conference being finished, the queen summoned him to her cabinet.


Athos was introduced and announced by name. It was a name that too often resounded in her majesty's ears and too often vibrated in her heart for Anne of Austria not to recognize it; yet she remained impassive, looking at him with that fixed stare which is tolerated only in women who are queens, either by the power of beauty or by the right of birth.


"It is then a service which you propose to render us, count?" asked Anne of Austria, after a moment's silence.


"Yes, madame, another service," said Athos, shocked that the queen did not seem to recognize him.


Athos had a noble heart, and made, therefore, but a poor courtier.


Anne frowned. Mazarin, who was sitting at a table folding up papers, as if he had only been a secretary of state, looked up.


"Speak," said the queen.


Mazarin turned again to his papers.


"Madame," resumed Athos, "two of my friends, named D'Artagnan and Monsieur du Vallon, sent to England by the cardinal, suddenly disappeared when they set foot on the shores of France; no one knows what has become of them."


"Well?" said the queen.


"I address myself, therefore, first to the benevolence of your majesty, that I may know what has become of my friends, reserving to myself, if necessary, the right of appealing hereafter to your justice."


"Sir," replied Anne, with a degree of haughtiness which to certain persons became impertinence, "this is the reason that you trouble me in the midst of so many absorbing concerns! an affair for the police! Well, sir, you ought to know that we no longer have a police, since we are no longer at Paris."


"I think your majesty will have no need to apply to the police to know where my friends are, but that if you will deign to interrogate the cardinal he can reply without any further inquiry than into his own recollections."


"But, God forgive me!" cried Anne, with that disdainful curl of the lips peculiar to her, "I believe that you are yourself interrogating."


"Yes, madame, here I have a right to do so, for it concerns Monsieur d'Artagnan—-d'Artagnan," he repeated, in such a manner as to bow the regal brow with recollections of the weak and erring woman.


The cardinal saw that it was now high time to come to the assistance of Anne.


"Sir," he said, "I can tell you what is at present unknown to her majesty. These individuals are under arrest. They disobeyed orders."


"I beg of your majesty, then," said Athos, calmly and not replying to Mazarin, "to quash these arrests of Messieurs d'Artagnan and du Vallon."


"What you ask is merely an affair of discipline and does not concern me," said the queen.


"Monsieur d'Artagnan never made such an answer as that when the service of your majesty was concerned," said Athos, bowing with great dignity. He was going toward the door when Mazarin stopped him.


"You, too, have been in England, sir?" he said, making a sign to the queen, who was evidently going to issue a severe order.


"I was a witness of the last hours of Charles I. Poor king! culpable, at the most, of weakness, how cruelly punished by his subjects! Thrones are at this time shaken and it is to little purpose for devoted hearts to serve the interests of princes. This is the second time that Monsieur d'Artagnan has been in England. He went the first time to save the honor of a great queen; the second, to avert the death of a great king."


"Sir," said Anne to Mazarin, with an accent from which daily habits of dissimulation could not entirely chase the real expression, "see if we can do something for these gentlemen."


"I wish to do, madame, all that your majesty pleases."


"Do what Monsieur de la Fère requests; that is your name, is it not, sir?"


"I have another name, madame—I am called Athos."


"Madame," said Mazarin, with a smile, "you may rest easy; your wishes shall be fulfilled."


"You hear, sir?" said the queen.


"Yes, madame, I expected nothing less from the justice of your majesty. May I not go and see my friends?"


"Yes, sir, you shall see them. But, àpropos, you belong to the Fronde, do you not?"


"Madame, I serve the king."


"Yes, in your own way."


"My way is the way of all gentlemen, and I know only one way," answered Athos, haughtily.


"Go, sir, then," said the queen; "you have obtained what you wish and we know all we desire to know."


Scarcely, however, had the tapestry closed behind Athos when she said to Mazarin:


"Cardinal, desire them to arrest that insolent fellow before he leaves the court."


"Your majesty," answered Mazarin, "desires me to do only what I was going to ask you to let me do. These bravoes who resuscitate in our epoch the traditions of another reign are troublesome; since there are two of them already there, let us add a third."


Athos was not altogether the queen's dupe, but he was not a man to run away on suspicion—above all, when distinctly told that he should see his friends again. He waited, then, in the ante-chamber with impatience, till he should be conducted to them.


He walked to the window and looked into the court. He saw the deputation from the Parisians enter it; they were coming to assign the definitive place for the conference and to make their bow to the queen. A very imposing escort awaited them without the gates.


Athos was looking on attentively, when some one touched him softly on the shoulder.


"Yes, count, and charged with a commission for which I beg of you to accept my excuses."


"Be so good as to give me up your sword, count."


Athos smiled and opened the window.


"Aramis!" he cried.


A gentleman turned around. Athos fancied he had seen him among the crowd. It was Aramis. He bowed with great friendship to the count.


"Aramis," cried Athos, "I am arrested."


"Good," replied Aramis, calmly.


"Sir," said Athos, turning to Comminges and giving him politely his sword by the hilt, "here is my sword; have the kindness to keep it safely for me until I quit my prison. I prize it—it was given to my ancestor by King Francis I. In his time they armed gentlemen, not disarmed them. Now, whither do you conduct me?"


"Into my room first," replied Comminges; "the queen will ultimately decide your place of domicile."


Athos followed Comminges without saying a single word.


Chapter LXXXI. Cardinal Mazarin as King.


The arrest produced no sensation, indeed was almost unknown, and scarcely interrupted the course of events. To the deputation it was formally announced that the queen would receive it.


Accordingly, it was admitted to the presence of Anne, who, silent and lofty as ever, listened to the speeches and complaints of the deputies; but when they had finished their harangues not one of them could say, so calm remained her face, whether or no she had heard them.


On the other hand, Mazarin, present at that audience, heard very well what those deputies demanded. It was purely and simply his removal, in terms clear and precise.


The discourse being finished, the queen remained silent.


"Gentlemen," said Mazarin, "I join with you in supplicating the queen to put an end to the miseries of her subjects. I have done all in my power to ameliorate them and yet the belief of the public, you say, is that they proceed from me, an unhappy foreigner, who has been unable to please the French. Alas! I have never been understood, and no wonder. I succeeded a man of the most sublime genius that ever upheld the sceptre of France. The memory of Richelieu annihilates me. In vain—were I an ambitious man—should I struggle against such remembrances as he has left; but that I am not ambitious I am going to prove to you. I own myself conquered. I shall obey the wishes of the people. If Paris has injuries to complain of, who has not some wrongs to be redressed? Paris has been sufficiently punished; enough blood has flowed, enough misery has humbled a town deprived of its king and of justice. 'Tis not for me, a private individual, to disunite a queen from her kingdom. Since you demand my resignation, I retire."


"Then," said Aramis, in his neighbor's ear, "the conferences are over. There is nothing to do but to send Monsieur Mazarin to the most distant frontier and to take care that he does not return even by that, nor any other entrance into France."


"One instant, sir," said the man in a gown, whom he addressed; "a plague on't! how fast you go! one may soon see that you're a soldier. There's the article of remunerations and indemnifications to be discussed and set to rights."


"Chancellor," said the queen, turning to Séguier, our old acquaintance, "you will open the conferences. They can take place at Rueil. The cardinal has said several things which have agitated me, therefore I will not speak more fully now. As to his going or staying, I feel too much gratitude to the cardinal not to leave him free in all his actions; he shall do what he wishes to do."


A transient pallor overspread the speaking countenance of the prime minister; he looked at the queen with anxiety. Her face was so passionless, that he, as every one else present, was incapable of reading her thoughts.


"But," added the queen, "in awaiting the cardinal's decision let there be, if you please, a reference to the king only."


The deputies bowed and left the room.


"What!" exclaimed the queen, when the last of them had quitted the apartment, "you would yield to these limbs of the law—these advocates?"


"To promote your majesty's welfare, madame," replied Mazarin, fixing his penetrating eyes on the queen, "there is no sacrifice that I would not make."


Anne dropped her head and fell into one of those reveries so habitual with her. A recollection of Athos came into her mind. His fearless deportment, his words, so firm, yet dignified, the shades which by one word he had evoked, recalled to her the past in all its intoxication of poetry and romance, youth, beauty, the éclat of love at twenty years of age, the bloody death of Buckingham, the only man whom she had ever really loved, and the heroism of those obscure champions who had saved her from the double hatred of Richelieu and the king.


Mazarin looked at her, and whilst she deemed herself alone and freed from the world of enemies who sought to spy into her secret thoughts, he read her thoughts in her countenance, as one sees in a transparent lake clouds pass—reflections, like thoughts, of the heavens.


"Must we, then," asked Anne of Austria, "yield to the storm, buy peace, and patiently and piously await better times?"


Mazarin smiled sarcastically at this speech, which showed that she had taken the minister's proposal seriously.


Anne's head was bent down—she had not seen the Italian's smile; but finding that her question elicited no reply she looked up.


"Well, you do not answer, cardinal, what do you think about it?"


"I am thinking, madame, of the allusion made by that insolent gentleman, whom you have caused to be arrested, to the Duke of Buckingham—to him whom you allowed to be assassinated—to the Duchess de Chevreuse, whom you suffered to be exiled—to the Duc de Beaufort, whom you imprisoned; but if he made allusion to me it was because he is ignorant of the relation in which I stand to you."


Anne drew up, as she always did, when anything touched her pride. She blushed, and that she might not answer, clasped her beautiful hands till her sharp nails almost pierced them.


"That man has sagacity, honor and wit, not to mention likewise that he is a man of undoubted resolution. You know something about him, do you not, madame? I shall tell him, therefore, and in doing so I shall confer a personal favor on him, how he is mistaken in regard to me. What is proposed to me would be, in fact, almost an abdication, and an abdication requires reflection."


"An abdication?" repeated Anne; "I thought, sir, that it was kings alone who abdicated!"


"Well," replied Mazarin, "and am I not almost a king—king, indeed, of France? Thrown over the foot of the royal bed, my simar, madame, looks not unlike the mantle worn by kings."


This was one of the humiliations which Mazarin made Anne undergo more frequently than any other, and one that bowed her head with shame. Queen Elizabeth and Catherine II. of Russia are the only two monarchs of their set on record who were at once sovereigns and lovers. Anne of Austria looked with a sort of terror at the threatening aspect of the cardinal—his physiognomy in such moments was not destitute of a certain grandeur.


"Sir," she replied, "did I not say, and did you not hear me say to those people, that you should do as you pleased?"


"In that case," said Mazarin, "I think it must please me best to remain; not only on account of my own interest, but for your safety."


"Remain, then, sir; nothing can be more agreeable to me; only do not allow me to be insulted."


"You are referring to the demands of the rebels and to the tone in which they stated them? Patience! They have selected a field of battle on which I am an abler general than they—that of a conference. No, we shall beat them by merely temporizing. They want food already. They will be ten times worse off in a week."


"Ah, yes! Good heavens! I know it will end in that way; but it is not they who taunt me with the most wounding reproaches, but——"


"I understand; you mean to allude to the recollections perpetually revived by these three gentlemen. However, we have them safe in prison, and they are just sufficiently culpable for us to keep them in prison as long as we find it convenient. One only is still not in our power and braves us. But, devil take him! we shall soon succeed in sending him to join his boon companions. We have accomplished more difficult things than that. In the first place I have as a precaution shut up at Rueil, near me, under my own eyes, within reach of my hand, the two most intractable ones. To-day the third will be there also."


"As long as they are in prison all will be well," said Anne, "but one of these days they will get out."


"Yes, if your majesty releases them."


"Ah!" exclaimed Anne, following the train of her own thoughts on such occasions, "one regrets Paris!"


"On account of the Bastile, sir, which is so strong and so secure."


"Madame, these conferences will bring us peace; when we have peace we shall regain Paris; with Paris, the Bastile, and our four bullies shall rot therein."


Anne frowned slightly when Mazarin, in taking leave, kissed her hand.


Mazarin, after this half humble, half gallant attention, went away. Anne followed him with her eyes, and as he withdrew, at every step he took, a disdainful smile was seen playing, then gradually burst upon her lips.


"I once," she said, "despised the love of a cardinal who never said 'I shall do,' but, 'I have done so and so.' That man knew of retreats more secure than Rueil, darker and more silent even than the Bastile. Degenerate world!"


Chapter LXXXII. Precautions.


After quitting Anne, Mazarin took the road to Rueil, where he usually resided; in those times of disturbance he went about with numerous followers and often disguised himself. In military dress he was, indeed, as we have stated, a very handsome man.


In the court of the old Château of Saint Germain he entered his coach, and reached the Seine at Chatou. The prince had supplied him with fifty light horse, not so much by way of guard as to show the deputies how readily the queen's generals dispersed their troops and to prove that they might be safely scattered at pleasure. Athos, on horseback, without his sword and kept in sight by Comminges, followed the cardinal in silence. Grimaud, finding that his master had been arrested, fell back into the ranks near Aramis, without saying a word and as if nothing had happened.


Grimaud had, indeed, during twenty-two years of service, seen his master extricate himself from so many difficulties that nothing less than Athos's imminent death was likely to make him uneasy.


At the branching off of the road toward Paris, Aramis, who had followed in the cardinal's suite, turned back. Mazarin went to the right hand and Aramis could see the prisoner disappear at the turning of the avenue. Athos, at the same moment, moved by a similar impulse, looked back also. The two friends exchanged a simple inclination of the head and Aramis put his finger to his hat, as if to bow, Athos alone comprehending by that signal that he had some project in his head.


Ten minutes afterward Mazarin entered the court of that château which his predecessor had built for him at Rueil; as he alighted, Comminges approached him.


"My lord," he asked, "where does your eminence wish Monsieur Comte de la Fère to be lodged?"


"In the pavilion of the orangery, of course, in front of the pavilion where the guard is. I wish every respect to be shown the count, although he is the prisoner of her majesty the queen."


"My lord," answered Comminges, "he begs to be taken to the place where Monsieur d'Artagnan is confined—that is, in the hunting lodge, opposite the orangery."


Mazarin thought for an instant.


Comminges saw that he was undecided.


"'Tis a very strong post," he resumed, "and we have forty good men, tried soldiers, having no connection with Frondeurs nor any interest in the Fronde."


"If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges," said Mazarin, "we must double the guard, and we are not rich enough in fighting men to commit such acts of prodigality."


Comminges smiled; Mazarin read and construed that smile.


"You do not know these men, Monsieur Comminges, but I know them, first personally, also by hearsay. I sent them to carry aid to King Charles and they performed prodigies to save him; had it not been for an adverse destiny, that beloved monarch would this day have been among us."


"But since they served your eminence so well, why are they, my lord cardinal, in prison?"


"In prison?" said Mazarin, "and when has Rueil been a prison?"


"Ever since there were prisoners in it," answered Comminges.


"These gentlemen, Comminges, are not prisoners," returned Mazarin, with his ironical smile, "only guests; but guests so precious that I have put a grating before each of their windows and bolts to their doors, that they may not refuse to continue my visitors. So much do I esteem them that I am going to make the Comte de la Fère a visit, that I may converse with him tête-à-tête, and that we may not be disturbed at our interview you must conduct him, as I said before, to the pavilion of the orangery; that, you know, is my daily promenade. Well, while taking my walk I will call on him and we will talk. Although he professes to be my enemy I have sympathy for him, and if he is reasonable perhaps we shall arrange matters."


Comminges bowed, and returned to Athos, who was awaiting with apparent calmness, but with real anxiety, the result of the interview.


"Well?" he said to the lieutenant.


"Sir," replied Comminges, "it seems that it is impossible."


"Monsieur de Comminges," said Athos, "I have been a soldier all my life and I know the force of orders; but outside your orders there is a service you can render me."


"I will do it with all my heart," said Comminges; "for I know who you are and what service you once performed for her majesty; I know, too, how dear to you is the young man who came so valiantly to my aid when that old rogue of a Broussel was arrested. I am entirely at your service, except only for my orders."


"Thank you, sir; what I am about to ask will not compromise you in any degree."


"If it should even compromise me a little," said Monsieur de Comminges, with a smile, "still make your demand. I don't like Mazarin any better than you do. I serve the queen and that draws me naturally into the service of the cardinal; but I serve the one with joy and the other against my will. Speak, then, I beg of you; I wait and listen."


"Since there is no harm," said Athos, "in my knowing that D'Artagnan is here, I presume there will be none in his knowing that I am here."


"I have received no orders on that point."


"Well, then, do me the kindness to give him my regards and tell him that I am his neighbor. Tell him also what you have just told me—that Mazarin has placed me in the pavilion of the orangery in order to make me a visit, and assure him that I shall take advantage of this honor he proposes to accord to me to obtain from him some amelioration of our captivity."


"Which cannot last," interrupted Comminges; "the cardinal said so; there is no prison here."


"But there are oubliettes!" replied Athos, smiling.


"Oh! that's a different thing; yes, I know there are traditions of that sort," said Comminges. "It was in the time of the other cardinal, who was a great nobleman; but our Mazarin—impossible! an Italian adventurer would not dare to go such lengths with such men as ourselves. Oubliettes are employed as a means of kingly vengeance, and a low-born fellow such as he is would not have recourse to them. Your arrest is known, that of your friends will soon be known; and all the nobility of France would demand an explanation of your disappearance. No, no, be easy on that score. I will, however, inform Monsieur d'Artagnan of your arrival here."


Comminges then led the count to a room on the ground floor of a pavilion, at the end of the orangery. They passed through a courtyard as they went, full of soldiers and courtiers. In the centre of this court, in the form of a horseshoe, were the buildings occupied by Mazarin, and at each wing the pavilion (or smaller building), where D'Artagnan was confined, and that, level with the orangery, where Athos was to be. From the ends of these two wings extended the park.


Athos, when he reached his appointed room, observed through the gratings of his window, walls and roofs; and was told, on inquiry, by Comminges, that he was looking on the back of the pavilion where D'Artagnan was confined.


"Yes, 'tis too true," said Comminges, "'tis almost a prison; but what a singular fancy this is of yours, count—you, who are the very flower of our nobility—to squander your valor and loyalty amongst these upstarts, the Frondists! Really, count, if ever I thought that I had a friend in the ranks of the royal army, it was you. A Frondeur! you, the Comte de la Fère, on the side of Broussel, Blancmesnil and Viole! For shame! you, a Frondeur!"


"On my word of honor," said Athos, "one must be either a Mazarinist or a Frondeur. For a long time I had these words whispered in my ears, and I chose the latter; at any rate, it is a French word. And now, I am a Frondeur—not of Broussel's party, nor of Blancmesnil's, nor am I with Viole; but with the Duc de Beaufort, the Ducs de Bouillon and d'Elbeuf; with princes, not with presidents, councillors and low-born lawyers. Besides, what a charming outlook it would have been to serve the cardinal! Look at that wall—without a single window—which tells you fine things about Mazarin's gratitude!"


"Yes," replied De Comminges, "more especially if it could reveal how Monsieur d'Artagnan for this last week has been anathematizing him."


"Poor D'Artagnan'" said Athos, with the charming melancholy that was one of the traits of his character, "so brave, so good, so terrible to the enemies of those he loves. You have two unruly prisoners there, sir."


"Unruly," Comminges smiled; "you wish to terrify me, I suppose. When he came here, Monsieur D'Artagnan provoked and braved the soldiers and inferior officers, in order, I suppose, to have his sword back. That mood lasted some time; but now he's as gentle as a lamb and sings Gascon songs, which make one die of laughing."


"And Du Vallon?" asked Athos.


"Ah, he's quite another sort of person—a formidable gentleman, indeed. The first day he broke all the doors in with a single push of his shoulder; and I expected to see him leave Rueil in the same way as Samson left Gaza. But his temper cooled down, like his friend's; he not only gets used to his captivity, but jokes about it."


"So much the better," said Athos.


"Do you think anything else was to be expected of them?" asked Comminges, who, putting together what Mazarin had said of his prisoners and what the Comte de la Fère had said, began to feel a degree of uneasiness.


Athos, on the other hand, reflected that this recent gentleness of his friends most certainly arose from some plan formed by D'Artagnan. Unwilling to injure them by praising them too highly, he replied: "They? They are two hotheads—the one a Gascon, the other from Picardy; both are easily excited, but they quiet down immediately. You have had a proof of that in what you have just related to me."


This, too, was the opinion of Comminges, who withdrew somewhat reassured. Athos remained alone in the vast chamber, where, according to the cardinal's directions, he was treated with all the courtesy due to a nobleman. He awaited Mazarin's promised visit to get some light on his present situation.


Chapter LXXXIII. Strength and Sagacity.


Now let us pass the orangery to the hunting lodge. At the extremity of the courtyard, where, close to a portico formed of Ionic columns, were the dog kennels, rose an oblong building, the pavilion of the orangery, a half circle, inclosing the court of honor. It was in this pavilion, on the ground floor, that D'Artagnan and Porthos were confined, suffering interminable hours of imprisonment in a manner suitable to each different temperament.


D'Artagnan was pacing to and fro like a caged tiger; with dilated eyes, growling as he paced along by the bars of a window looking upon the yard of servant's offices.


Porthos was ruminating over an excellent dinner he had just demolished.


The one seemed to be deprived of reason, yet he was meditating. The other seemed to meditate, yet he was more than half asleep. But his sleep was a nightmare, which might be guessed by the incoherent manner in which he sometimes snored and sometimes snorted.


"Look," said D'Artagnan, "day is declining. It must be nearly four o'clock. We have been in this place nearly eighty-three hours."


"Hem!" muttered Porthos, with a kind of pretense of answering.


"Did you hear, eternal sleeper?" cried D'Artagnan, irritated that any one could doze during the day, when he had the greatest difficulty in sleeping during the night.


"What?" said Porthos.


"I say we have been here eighty-three hours."


"'Tis your fault," answered Porthos.


"How, my fault?"


"Yes, I offered you escape."


"By pulling out a bar and pushing down a door?"


"Porthos, men like us can't go out from here purely and simply."


"Faith!" said Porthos, "as for me, I could go out with that purity and that simplicity which it seems to me you despise too much."


"And besides," he said, "going out of this chamber isn't all."


"Dear friend," said Porthos, "you appear to be in a somewhat better humor to-day than you were yesterday. Explain to me why going out of this chamber isn't everything."


"Because, having neither arms nor password, we shouldn't take fifty steps in the court without knocking against a sentinel."


"Very well," said Porthos, "we will kill the sentinel and we shall have his arms."


"Yes, but before we can kill him—and he will be hard to kill, that Swiss—he will shriek out and the whole picket will come, and we shall be taken like foxes, we, who are lions, and thrown into some dungeon, where we shall not even have the consolation of seeing this frightful gray sky of Rueil, which no more resembles the sky of Tarbes than the moon is like the sun. Lack-a-day! if we only had some one to instruct us about the physical and moral topography of this castle. Ah! when one thinks that for twenty years, during which time I did not know what to do with myself, it never occurred to me to come to study Rueil."


"What difference does that make?" said Porthos. "We shall go out all the same."


"Do you know, my dear fellow, why master pastrycooks never work with their hands?"


"No," said Porthos, "but I should be glad to be informed."


"It is because in the presence of their pupils they fear that some of their tarts or creams may turn out badly cooked."


"Why, then they would be laughed at, and a master pastrycook must never be laughed at."


"And what have master pastrycooks to do with us?"


"We ought, in our adventures, never to be defeated or give any one a chance to laugh at us. In England, lately, we failed, we were beaten, and that is a blemish on our reputation."


"By whom, then, were we beaten?" asked Porthos.


"Yes, but we have drowned Monsieur Mordaunt."


"That is true, and that will redeem us a little in the eyes of posterity, if posterity ever looks at us. But listen, Porthos: though Monsieur Mordaunt was a man not to be despised, Mazarin is not less strong than he, and we shall not easily succeed in drowning him. We must, therefore, watch and play a close game; for," he added with a sigh, "we two are equal, perhaps, to eight others; but we are not equal to the four that you know of."


"That is true," said Porthos, echoing D'Artagnan's sigh.


"Well, Porthos, follow my examples; walk back and forth till some news of our friends reaches us or till we are visited by a good idea. But don't sleep as you do all the time; nothing dulls the intellect like sleep. As to what may lie before us, it is perhaps less serious than we at first thought. I don't believe that Monsieur de Mazarin thinks of cutting off our heads, for heads are not taken off without previous trial; a trial would make a noise, and a noise would get the attention of our friends, who would check the operations of Monsieur de Mazarin."


"How well you reason!" said Porthos, admiringly.


"Well, yes, pretty well," replied D'Artagnan; "and besides, you see, if they put us on trial, if they cut off our heads, they must meanwhile either keep us here or transfer us elsewhere."


"Yes, that is inevitable," said Porthos.


"Well, it is impossible but that Master Aramis, that keen-scented bloodhound, and Athos, that wise and prudent nobleman, will discover our retreat. Then, believe me, it will be time to act."


"Yes, we will wait. We can wait the more contentedly, that it is not absolutely bad here, but for one thing, at least."


"Did you observe, D'Artagnan, that three days running they have brought us braised mutton?"


"No; but if it occurs a fourth time I shall complain of it, so never mind."


"And then I feel the loss of my house, 'tis a long time since I visited my castles."


"Forget them for a time; we shall return to them, unless Mazarin razes them to the ground."


"Do you think that likely?"


"No; the other cardinal would have done so, but this one is too mean a fellow to risk it."


"Well, then, assume a cheerful manner, as I do; we must joke with the guards, we must gain the good-will of the soldiers, since we can't corrupt them. Try, Porthos, to please them more than you are wont to do when they are under our windows. Thus far you have done nothing but show them your fist; and the more respectable your fist is, Porthos, the less attractive it is. Ah, I would give much to have five hundred louis, only."


"So would I," said Porthos, unwilling to be behind D'Artagnan in generosity; "I would give as much as a hundred pistoles."


The two prisoners were at this point of their conversation when Comminges entered, preceded by a sergeant and two men, who brought supper in a basket with two handles, filled with basins and plates.


"What!" exclaimed Porthos, "mutton again?"


"My dear Monsieur de Comminges," said D'Artagnan, "you will find that my friend, Monsieur du Vallon, will go to the most fatal lengths if Cardinal Mazarin continues to provide us with this sort of meat; mutton every day."


"I declare," said Porthos, "I shall eat nothing if they do not take it away."


"Remove the mutton," cried Comminges; "I wish Monsieur du Vallon to sup well, more especially as I have news to give him that will improve his appetite."


"Is Mazarin dead?" asked Porthos.


"No; I am sorry to tell you he is perfectly well."


"So much the worse," said Porthos.


"What is that news?" asked D'Artagnan. "News in prison is a fruit so rare that I trust, Monsieur de Comminges, you will excuse my impatience—the more eager since you have given us to understand that the news is good."


"Should you be glad to hear that the Comte de la Fère is well?" asked De Comminges.


D'Artagnan's penetrating gray eyes were opened to the utmost.


"Glad!" he cried; "I should be more than glad! Happy—beyond measure!"


"Well, I am desired by him to give you his compliments and to say that he is in good health."


D'Artagnan almost leaped with joy. A quick glance conveyed his thought to Porthos: "If Athos knows where we are, if he opens communication with us, before long Athos will act."


Porthos was not very quick to understand the language of glances, but now since the name of Athos had suggested to him the same idea, he understood.


"Do you say," asked the Gascon, timidly, "that the Comte de la Fère has commissioned you to give his compliments to Monsieur du Vallon and myself?"


"Then you have seen him?"


"Certainly I have."


"Where? if I may ask without indiscretion."


"Near here," replied De Comminges, smiling; "so near that if the windows which look on the orangery were not stopped up you could see him from where you are."


"He is wandering about the environs of the castle," thought D'Artagnan. Then he said aloud:


"No; nearer, nearer still. Look, behind this wall," said De Comminges, knocking against the wall.


"Behind this wall? What is there, then, behind this wall? I was brought here by night, so devil take me if I know where I am."


"Well," said Comminges, "suppose one thing."


"I will suppose anything you please."


"Suppose there were a window in this wall."


"From that window you would see Monsieur de la Fère at his."


"The count, then, is in the château?"


"For what reason?"


"The same as yourself."


"Athos—a prisoner?"


"You know well," replied De Comminges, "that there are no prisoners at Rueil, because there is no prison."


"Don't let us play upon words, sir. Athos has been arrested."


"Yesterday, at Saint Germain, as he came out from the presence of the queen."


The arms of D'Artagnan fell powerless by his side. One might have supposed him thunderstruck; a paleness ran like a cloud over his dark skin, but disappeared immediately.


"A prisoner?" he reiterated.


"A prisoner," repeated Porthos, quite dejected.


Suddenly D'Artagnan looked up and in his eyes there was a gleam which scarcely even Porthos observed; but it died away and he appeared more sorrowful than before.


"Come, come," said Comminges, who, since D'Artagnan, on the day of Broussel's arrest, had saved him from the hands of the Parisians, had entertained a real affection for him, "don't be unhappy; I never thought of bringing you bad news. Laugh at the chance which has brought your friend near to you and Monsieur du Vallon, instead of being in the depths of despair about it."


But D'Artagnan was still in a desponding mood.


"And how did he look?" asked Porthos, who, perceiving that D'Artagnan had allowed the conversation to drop, profited by it to put in a word or two.


"Very well, indeed, sir," replied Comminges; "at first, like you, he seemed distressed; but when he heard that the cardinal was going to pay him a visit this very evening——"


"Ah!" cried D'Artagnan, "the cardinal is about to visit the Comte de la Fère?"


"Yes; and the count desired me to tell you that he should take advantage of this visit to plead for you and for himself."


"A fine thing, indeed!" grunted Porthos. "A great favor! Zounds! Monsieur the Comte de la Fère, whose family is allied to the Montmorency and the Rohan, is easily the equal of Monsieur de Mazarin."


"No matter," said D'Artagnan, in his most wheedling tone. "On reflection, my dear Du Vallon, it is a great honor for the Comte de la Fère, and gives good reason to hope. In fact, it seems to me so great an honor for a prisoner that I think Monsieur de Comminges must be mistaken."


"No, no, no," said Comminges, who made a point of having the facts appear exactly as they were, "I clearly understood what the cardinal said to me. He will come and visit the Comte de la Fère."


D'Artagnan tried to gather from the expression of his eyes whether Porthos understood the importance of that visit, but Porthos did not even look toward him.


"It is, then, the cardinal's custom to walk in his orangery?" asked D'Artagnan.


"Every evening he shuts himself in there. That, it seems, is where he meditates on state affairs."


"In that case," said D'Artagnan, "I begin to believe that Monsieur de la Fère will receive the visit of his eminence; he will, of course, have an escort."


"Yes—two soldiers."


"And will he talk thus of affairs in presence of two strangers?"


"The soldiers are Swiss, who understand only German. Besides, according to all probability they will wait at the door."


D'Artagnan made a violent effort over himself to keep his face from being too expressive.


"Let the cardinal take care of going alone to visit the Comte de la Fère," said D'Artagnan; "for the count must be furious."


Comminges began to laugh. "Oh, oh! why, really, one would say that you four were anthropaphagi! The count is an affable man; besides, he is unarmed; at the first word from his eminence the two soldiers about him would run to his assistance."


"Two soldiers," said D'Artagnan, seeming to remember something, "two soldiers, yes; that, then, is why I hear two men called every evening and see them walking sometimes for half an hour, under my window."


"That is it; they are waiting for the cardinal, or rather for Bernouin, who comes to call them when the cardinal goes out."


"Fine-looking men, upon my word!" said D'Artagnan.


"They belong to the regiment that was at Lens, which the prince assigned to the cardinal."


"Ah, monsieur," said D'Artagnan, as if to sum up in a word all that conversation, "if only his eminence would relent and grant to Monsieur de la Fère our liberty."


"I wish it with all my heart," said Comminges.


"Then, if he should forget that visit, you would find no inconvenience in reminding him of it?"


"Ah, that gives me more confidence."


This skillful turn of the conversation would have seemed a sublime manœuvre to any one who could have read the Gascon's soul.


"Now," said D'Artagnan, "I've one last favor to ask of you, Monsieur de Comminges."


"At your service, sir."


"You will see the count again?"


"To-morrow morning."


"Will you remember us to him and ask him to solicit for me the same favor that he will have obtained?"


"You want the cardinal to come here?"


"No; I know my place and am not so presumptuous. Let his eminence do me the honor to give me a hearing; that is all I want."


"Oh!" muttered Porthos, shaking his head, "never should I have thought this of him! How misfortune humbles a man!"


"I promise you it shall be done," answered De Comminges.


"Tell the count that I am well; that you found me sad, but resigned."


"I am pleased, sir, to hear that."


"And the same, also, for Monsieur du Vallon——"


"Not for me," cried Porthos; "I am not by any means resigned."


"But you will be resigned, my friend."


"He will become so, monsieur; I know him better than he knows himself. Be silent, dear Du Vallon, and resign yourself."


"We will try."


De Comminges went away, D'Artagnan remaining apparently in the same attitude of humble resignation; but scarcely had he departed when he turned and clasped Porthos in his arms with an expression not to be doubted.


"Oh!" cried Porthos; "what's the matter now? Have you gone mad, my dear friend?"


"What is the matter?" returned D'Artagnan; "we are saved!"


"I don't see that at all," answered Porthos. "I think we are all taken prisoners, except Aramis, and that our chances of getting out are lessened since one more of us is caught in Mazarin's mousetrap."


"Which is far too strong for two of us, but not strong enough for three of us," returned D'Artagnan.


"Never mind; let's sit down to table and take something to strengthen us for the night."


"What are we to do, then, to-night?"


"Sit down, dear friend, to table. When one is eating, ideas flow easily. After supper, when they are perfected, I will communicate my plans to you."


So Porthos sat down to table without another word and ate with an appetite that did honor to the confidence that was ever inspired in him by D'Artagnan's inventive imagination.


Chapter LXXXIV. Strength and Sagacity—Continued.


Supper was eaten in silence, but not in sadness; for from time to time one of those sweet smiles which were habitual to him in moments of good-humor illumined the face of D'Artagnan. Not a scintilla of these was lost on Porthos; and at every one he uttered an exclamation which betrayed to his friend that he had not lost sight of the idea which possessed his brain.


At dessert D'Artagnan reposed in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and lounged about like a man perfectly at his ease.


Porthos rested his chin on his hands, placed his elbows on the table and looked at D'Artagnan with an expression of confidence which imparted to that colossus an admirable appearance of good-fellowship.


"Well!" repeated Porthos.


"You were saying, my dear friend——"


"Yes; you were saying you wished to leave this place."


"Ah, indeed! the will was never wanting."


"To get away you would not mind, you added, knocking down a door or a wall."


"And I answered you, Porthos, that it was not a good plan; that we couldn't go a hundred steps without being recaptured, because we were without clothes to disguise ourselves and arms to defend ourselves."


"That is true; we should need clothes and arms."


"Well," said D'Artagnan, rising, "we have them, friend Porthos, and even something better."


"Bah!" said Porthos, looking around.


"Useless to look; everything will come to us when wanted. At about what time did we see the two Swiss guards walking yesterday?"


"If they go out to-day as they did yesterday we shall have the honor, then, of seeing them in half an hour?"


"In a quarter of an hour at most."


"Your arm is still strong enough, is it not, Porthos?"


Porthos unbuttoned his sleeve, raised his shirt and looked complacently on his strong arm, as large as the leg of any ordinary man.


"So that you could without trouble convert these tongs into a hoop and yonder shovel into a corkscrew?"


"Certainly." And the giant took up these two articles, and without any apparent effort produced in them the metamorphoses suggested by his companion.


"There!" he cried.


"Capital!" exclaimed the Gascon. "Really, Porthos, you are a gifted individual!"


"I have heard speak," said Porthos, "of a certain Milo of Crotona, who performed wonderful feats, such as binding his forehead with a cord and bursting it—of killing an ox with a blow of his fist and carrying it home on his shoulders, et cetera. I used to learn all these feat by heart yonder, down at Pierrefonds, and I have done all that he did except breaking a cord by the corrugation of my temples."


"Because your strength is not in your head, Porthos," said his friend.


"No; it is in my arms and shoulders," answered Porthos with gratified naïveté.


"Well, my dear friend, let us approach the window and there you can match your strength against that of an iron bar."


Porthos went to the window, took a bar in his hands, clung to it and bent it like a bow; so that the two ends came out of the sockets of stone in which for thirty years they had been fixed.


"Well! friend, the cardinal, although such a genius, could never have done that."


"Shall I take out any more of them?" asked Porthos.


"No; that is sufficient; a man can pass through that."


Porthos tried, and passed the upper portion of his body through.


"Now pass your arm through this opening."


"You will know presently—pass it."


Porthos obeyed with military promptness and passed his arm through the opening.


"The scheme goes forward, it seems."


"On wheels, dear friend."


"Good! What shall I do now?"


"It is finished, then?"


"No, not yet."


"I should like to understand," said Porthos.


"Listen, my dear friend; in two words you will know all. The door of the guardhouse opens, as you see."


"They are about to send into our court, which Monsieur de Mazarin crosses on his way to the orangery, the two guards who attend him."


"There they are, coming out."


"If only they close the guardhouse door! Good! They close it."


"Silence! They may hear us."


"I don't understand it at all."


"As you execute you will understand."


"And yet I should have preferred——"


"You will have the pleasure of the surprise."


"Ah, that is true."


"Hush!"


Porthos remained silent and motionless.


In fact, the two soldiers advanced on the side where the window was, rubbing their hands, for it was cold, it being the month of February.


At this moment the door of the guardhouse was opened and one of the soldiers was summoned away.


"Now," said D'Artagnan, "I am going to call this soldier and talk to him. Don't lose a word of what I'm going to say to you, Porthos. Everything lies in the execution."


"Good, the execution of plots is my forte."


"I know it well. I depend on you. Look, I shall turn to the left, so that the soldier will be at your right, as soon as he mounts on the bench to talk to us."


"But supposing he doesn't mount?"


"He will; rely upon it. As soon as you see him get up, stretch out your arm and seize him by the neck. Then, raising him up as Tobit raised the fish by the gills, you must pull him into the room, taking care to squeeze him so tight that he can't cry out."


"Oh!" said Porthos. "Suppose I happen to strangle him?"


"To be sure there would only be a Swiss the less in the world; but you will not do so, I hope. Lay him down here; we'll gag him and tie him—no matter where—somewhere. So we shall get from him one uniform and a sword."


"Marvelous!" exclaimed Porthos, looking at the Gascon with the most profound admiration.


"Pooh!" replied D'Artagnan.


"Yes," said Porthos, recollecting himself, "but one uniform and one sword will not suffice for two."


"Well; but there's his comrade."


"True," said Porthos.


"Therefore, when I cough, stretch out your arm."


The two friends then placed themselves as they had agreed, Porthos being completely hidden in an angle of the window.


"Good-evening, comrade," said D'Artagnan in his most fascinating voice and manner.


"Good-evening, sir," answered the soldier, in a strong provincial accent.


"'Tis not too warm to walk," resumed D'Artagnan.


"And I think a glass of wine will not be disagreeable to you?"


"A glass of wine will be extremely welcome."


"The fish bites—the fish bites!" whispered the Gascon to Porthos.


"I understand," said Porthos.


"A bottle, perhaps?"


"A whole bottle? Yes, sir."


"A whole bottle, if you will drink my health."


"Willingly," answered the soldier.


"Come, then, and take it, friend," said the Gascon.


"With all my heart. How convenient that there's a bench here. Egad! one would think it had been placed here on purpose."


"Get on it; that's it, friend."


And D'Artagnan coughed.


That instant the arm of Porthos fell. His hand of iron grasped, quick as lightning, firm as a pair of blacksmith's pincers, the soldier's throat. He raised him, almost stifling him as he drew him through the aperture, at the risk of flaying him in the passage. He then laid him down on the floor, where D'Artagnan, after giving him just time enough to draw his breath, gagged him with his long scarf; and the moment he had done so began to undress him with the promptitude and dexterity of a man who had learned his business on the field of battle. Then the soldier, gagged and bound, was placed upon the hearth, the fire of which had been previously extinguished by the two friends.


"Here's a sword and a dress," said Porthos.


"I take them," said D'Artagnan, "for myself. If you want another uniform and sword you must play the same trick over again. Stop! I see the other soldier issue from the guardroom and come toward us."


"I think," replied Porthos, "it would be imprudent to attempt the same manœuvre again; it is said that no man can succeed twice in the same way, and a failure would be ruinous. No; I will go down, seize the man unawares and bring him to you ready gagged."


"That is better," said the Gascon.


"Be ready," said Porthos, as he slipped through the opening.


He did as he said. Porthos seized his opportunity, caught the next soldier by his neck, gagged him and pushed him like a mummy through the bars into the room, and entered after him. Then they undressed him as they had done the first, laid him on their bed and bound him with the straps which composed the bed—the bedstead being of oak. This operation proved as great a success as the first.


"There," said D'Artagnan, "this is capital! Now let me try on the dress of yonder chap. Porthos, I doubt if you can wear it; but should it be too tight, never mind, you can wear the breastplate and the hat with the red feathers."


It happened, however, that the second soldier was a Swiss of gigantic proportions, so, save that some few of the seams split, his uniform fitted Porthos perfectly.


They then dressed themselves.


"'Tis done!" they both exclaimed at once. "As to you, comrades," they said to the men, "nothing will happen to you if you are discreet; but if you stir you are dead men."


The soldiers were complaisant; they had found the grasp of Porthos pretty powerful and that it was no joke to fight against it.


"Now," said D'Artagnan, "you wouldn't be sorry to understand the plot, would you, Porthos?"


"Well, no, not very."


"Well, then, we shall go down into the court."


"We shall take the place of those two fellows."


"We will walk back and forth."


"That's a good idea, for it isn't warm."


"In a moment the valet-de-chambre will call the guard, as he did yesterday and the day before."


"And we shall answer?"


"No, on the contrary, we shall not answer."


"As you please; I don't insist on answering."


"We will not answer, then; we will simply settle our hats on our heads and we will escort his eminence."


"Where shall we escort him?"


"Where he is going—to visit Athos. Do you think Athos will be sorry to see us?"


"Oh!" cried Porthos, "oh! I understand."


"Wait a little, Porthos, before crying out; for, on my word, you haven't reached the end," said the Gascon, in a jesting tone.


"What is to happen?" said Porthos.


"Follow me," replied D'Artagnan. "The man who lives to see shall see."


And slipping through the aperture, he alighted in the court. Porthos followed him by the same road, but with more difficulty and less diligence. They could hear the two soldiers shivering with fear, as they lay bound in the chamber.


Scarcely had the two Frenchmen touched the ground when a door opened and the voice of the valet-de-chambre called out:


"Make ready!"


At the same moment the guardhouse was opened and a voice called out:


"La Bruyère and Du Barthois! March!"


"It seems that I am named La Bruyère," remarked D'Artagnan.


"And I, Du Barthois," added Porthos.


"Where are you?" asked the valet-de-chambre, whose eyes, dazzled by the light, could not clearly distinguish our heroes in the gloom.


"Here we are," said the Gascon.


"What say you to that, Monsieur du Vallon?" he added in a low tone to Porthos.


"If it but lasts, most capital," responded Porthos.


These two newly enlisted soldiers marched gravely after the valet-de-chambre, who opened the door of the vestibule, then another which seemed to be that of a waiting-room, and showing them two stools:


"Your orders are very simple," he said; "don't allow anybody, except one person, to enter here. Do you hear—not a single creature! Obey that person implicitly. On your return you cannot make a mistake. You have only to wait here till I release you."


D'Artagnan was known to this valet-de-chambre, who was no other than Bernouin, and he had during the last six or eight months introduced the Gascon a dozen times to the cardinal. The Gascon, therefore, instead of answering, growled out "Ja! Ja!" in the most German and the least Gascon accent possible.


As for Porthos, on whom D'Artagnan had impressed the necessity of absolute silence and who did not even now begin to comprehend the scheme of his friend, which was to follow Mazarin in his visit to Athos, he was simply mute. All that he was allowed to say, in case of emergencies, was the proverbial Der Teufel!


Bernouin shut the door and went away. When Porthos heard the key turn in the lock he began to be alarmed, lest they should only have exchanged one prison for another.


"Porthos, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "don't distrust Providence! Let me meditate and consider."


"Meditate and consider as much as you like," replied Porthos, who was now quite out of humor at seeing things take this turn.


"We have walked eight paces," whispered D'Artagnan, "and gone up six steps, so hereabouts is the pavilion called the pavilion of the orangery. The Comte de la Fère cannot be far off, only the doors are locked."


"That is a slight difficulty," said Porthos, "and a good push with the shoulders——"


"For God's sake, Porthos my friend, reserve your feats of strength, or they will not have, when needed, the honor they deserve. Have you not heard that some one is coming here?"


"Well, that some one will open the doors."


"But, my dear fellow, if that some one recognizes us, if that some one cries out, we are lost; for you don't propose, I imagine, that I shall kill that man of the church. That might do if we were dealing with Englishmen or Germans."


"Oh, may God keep me from it, and you, too!" said D'Artagnan. "The young king would, perhaps, show us some gratitude; but the queen would never forgive us, and it is she whom we have to consider. And then, besides, the useless blood! never! no, never! I have my plan; let me carry it out and we shall laugh."


"So much the better," said Porthos; "I feel some need of it."


"Hush!" said D'Artagnan; "the some one is coming."


The sound of a light step was heard in the vestibule. The hinges of the door creaked and a man appeared in the dress of a cavalier, wrapped in a brown cloak, with a lantern in one hand and a large beaver hat pulled down over his eyes.


Porthos effaced himself against the wall, but he could not render himself invisible; and the man in the cloak said to him, giving him his lantern:


"Light the lamp which hangs from the ceiling."


Then addressing D'Artagnan:


"You know the watchword?" he said.


"Ja!" replied the Gascon, determined to confine himself to this specimen of the German tongue.


"Tedesco!" answered the cavalier; "va bene."


And advancing toward the door opposite to that by which he came in, he opened it and disappeared behind it, shutting it as he went.


"Now," asked Porthos, "what are we to do?"


"Now we shall make use of your shoulder, friend Porthos, if this door proves to be locked. Everything in its proper time, and all comes right to those who know how to wait patiently. But first barricade the first door well; then we will follow yonder cavalier."


The two friends set to work and crowded the space before the door with all the furniture in the room, as not only to make the passage impassable, but so to block the door that by no means could it open inward.


"There!" said D'Artagnan, "we can't be overtaken. Come! forward!"


Chapter LXXXV. The Oubliettes of Cardinal Mazarin.


At first, on arriving at the door through which Mazarin had passed, D'Artagnan tried in vain to open it, but on the powerful shoulder of Porthos being applied to one of the panels, which gave way, D'Artagnan introduced the point of his sword between the bolt and the staple of the lock. The bolt gave way and the door opened.


"As I told you, everything can be attained, Porthos, women and doors, by proceeding with gentleness."


"You're a great moralist, and that's the fact," said Porthos.


They entered; behind a glass window, by the light of the cardinal's lantern, which had been placed on the floor in the midst of the gallery, they saw the orange and pomegranate trees of the Castle of Rueil, in long lines, forming one great alley and two smaller side alleys.


"No cardinal!" said D'Artagnan, "but only his lantern; where the devil, then, is he?"


Exploring, however, one of the side wings of the gallery, after making a sign to Porthos to explore the other, he saw, all at once, at his left, a tub containing an orange tree, which had been pushed out of its place and in its place an open aperture.


Ten men would have found difficulty in moving that tub, but by some mechanical contrivance it had turned with the flagstone on which it rested.


D'Artagnan, as we have said, perceived a hole in that place and in this hole the steps of a winding staircase.


He called Porthos to look at it.


"Were our object money only," he said, "we should be rich directly."


"How's that?"


"Don't you understand, Porthos? At the bottom of that staircase lies, probably, the cardinal's treasury of which folk tell such wonders, and we should only have to descend, empty a chest, shut the cardinal up in it, double lock it, go away, carrying off as much gold as we could, put back this orange-tree over the place, and no one in the world would ever ask us where our fortune came from—not even the cardinal."


"It would be a happy hit for clowns to make, but as it seems to be unworthy of two gentlemen——" said Porthos.


"So I think; and therefore I said, 'Were our object money only;' but we want something else," replied the Gascon.


At the same moment, whilst D'Artagnan was leaning over the aperture to listen, a metallic sound, as if some one was moving a bag of gold, struck on his ear; he started; instantly afterward a door opened and a light played upon the staircase.


Mazarin had left his lamp in the gallery to make people believe that he was walking about, but he had with him a waxlight, to help him to explore his mysterious strong box.


"Faith," he said, in Italian, as he was reascending the steps and looking at a bag of reals, "faith, there's enough to pay five councillors of parliament, and two generals in Paris. I am a great captain—that I am! but I make war in my own way."


The two friends were crouching down, meantime, behind a tub in the side alley.


Mazarin came within three steps of D'Artagnan and pushed a spring in the wall; the slab turned and the orange tree resumed its place.


Then the cardinal put out the waxlight, slipped it into his pocket, and taking up the lantern: "Now," he said, "for Monsieur de la Fère."


"Very good," thought D'Artagnan, "'tis our road likewise; we will go together."


All three set off on their walk, Mazarin taking the middle alley and the friends the side ones.


The cardinal reached a second door without perceiving he was being followed; the sand with which the alleys were covered deadened the sound of footsteps.


He then turned to the left, down a corridor which had escaped the attention of the two friends, but as he opened the door he paused, as if in thought.


"Ah! Diavolo!" he exclaimed, "I forgot the recommendation of De Comminges, who advised me to take a guard and place it at this door, in order not to put myself at the mercy of that four-headed combination of devils." And with a movement of impatience he turned to retrace his steps.


"Do not give yourself the trouble, my lord," said D'Artagnan, with his right foot forward, his beaver in his hand, a smile on his face, "we have followed your eminence step by step and here we are."


"Yes—here we are," said Porthos.


And he made the same friendly salute as D'Artagnan.


Mazarin gazed at each of them with an affrighted stare, recognized them, and let drop his lantern, uttering a cry of terror.


D'Artagnan picked it up; by good luck it had not been extinguished.


"Oh, what imprudence, my lord," said D'Artagnan; "'tis not good to be about just here without a light. Your eminence might knock against something, or fall into a hole."


"Monsieur d'Artagnan!" muttered Mazarin, unable to recover from his astonishment.


"Yes, my lord, it is I. I have the honor to present to you Monsieur du Vallon, that excellent friend of mine, in whom your eminence had the kindness to interest yourself formerly."


And D'Artagnan held the lamp before the merry face of Porthos, who now began to comprehend the affair and be very proud of the whole undertaking.


"You were going to visit Monsieur de la Fère?" said D'Artagnan. "Don't let us disarrange your eminence. Be so good as to show us the way and we will follow you."


Mazarin was by degrees recovering his senses.


"Have you been long in the orangery?" he asked in a trembling voice, remembering the visits he had been paying to his treasury.


Porthos opened his mouth to reply; D'Artagnan made him a sign, and his mouth, remaining silent, gradually closed.


"This moment come, my lord," said D'Artagnan.


Mazarin breathed again. His fears were now no longer for his hoard, but for himself. A sort of smile played on his lips.


"Come," he said, "you have me in a snare, gentlemen. I confess myself conquered. You wish to ask for liberty, and—I give it you."


"Oh, my lord!" answered D'Artagnan, "you are too good; as to our liberty, we have that; we want to ask something else of you."


"You have your liberty?" repeated Mazarin, in terror.


"Certainly; and on the other hand, my lord, you have lost it, and now, in accordance with the law of war, sir, you must buy it back again."


Mazarin felt a shiver run through him—a chill even to his heart's core. His piercing look was fixed in vain on the satirical face of the Gascon and the unchanging countenance of Porthos. Both were in shadow and the Sybil of Cuma herself could not have read them.


"To purchase back my liberty?" said the cardinal.


"And how much will that cost me, Monsieur d'Artagnan?"


"Zounds, my lord, I don't know yet. We must ask the Comte de la Fère the question. Will your eminence deign to open the door which leads to the count's room, and in ten minutes all will be settled."


Mazarin started.


"My lord," said D'Artagnan, "your eminence sees that we wish to act with all formality and due respect; but I must warn you that we have no time to lose; open the door then, my lord, and be so good as to remember, once for all, that on the slightest attempt to escape or the faintest cry for help, our position being very critical indeed, you must not be angry with us if we go to extremities."


"Be assured," answered Mazarin, "that I shall attempt nothing; I give you my word of honor."


D'Artagnan made a sign to Porthos to redouble his watchfulness; then turning to Mazarin:


"Now, my lord, let us enter, if you please."


Chapter LXXXVI. Conferences.


Mazarin turned the lock of a double door, on the threshold of which they found Athos ready to receive his illustrious guests according to the notice Comminges had given him.


On perceiving Mazarin he bowed.


"Your eminence," he said, "might have dispensed with your attendants; the honor bestowed on me is too great for me to be unmindful of it."


"And so, my dear count," said D'Artagnan, "his eminence didn't actually insist on our attending him; it is Du Vallon and I who have insisted, and even in a manner somewhat impolite, perhaps, so great was our longing to see you."


At that voice, that mocking tone, and that familiar gesture, accenting voice and tone, Athos made a bound of surprise.


"D'Artagnan! Porthos!" he exclaimed.


"My very self, dear friend."


"Me, also!" repeated Porthos.


"What means this?" asked the count.


"It means," replied Mazarin, trying to smile and biting his lips in the attempt, "that our parts are changed, and that instead of these gentlemen being my prisoners I am theirs; but, gentlemen, I warn you, unless you kill me, your victory will be of very short duration; people will come to the rescue."


"Ah! my lord!" cried the Gascon, "don't threaten! 'tis a bad example. We are so good and gentle to your eminence. Come, let us put aside all rancor and talk pleasantly."


"There's nothing I wish more," replied Mazarin. "But don't think yourselves in a better position than you are. In ensnaring me you have fallen into the trap yourselves. How are you to get away from here? remember the soldiers and sentinels who guard these doors. Now, I am going to show you how sincere I am."


"Good," thought D'Artagnan; "we must look about us; he's going to play us a trick."


"I offered you your liberty," continued the minister; "will you take it? Before an hour has passed you will be discovered, arrested, obliged to kill me, which would be a crime unworthy of loyal gentlemen like you."


"He is right," thought Athos.


And, like every other reflection passing in a mind that entertained none but noble thoughts, this feeling was expressed in his eyes.


"And therefore," said D'Artagnan, to clip the hope which Athos's tacit adhesion had imparted to Mazarin, "we shall not proceed to that violence save in the last extremity."


"If on the contrary," resumed Mazarin, "you accept your liberty——"


"Why you, my lord, might take it away from us in less than five minutes afterward; and from my knowledge of you I believe you will so take it away from us."


"No—on the faith of a cardinal. You do not believe me?"


"My lord, I never believe cardinals who are not priests."


"Well, on the faith of a minister."


"You are no longer a minister, my lord; you are a prisoner."


"Then, on the honor of a Mazarin, as I am and ever shall be, I hope," said the cardinal.


"Hem," replied D'Artagnan. "I have heard speak of a Mazarin who had not much religion when his oaths were in question. I fear he may have been an ancestor of your eminence."


"Monsieur d'Artagnan, you are a great wit and I am really sorry to be on bad terms with you."


"My lord, let us come to terms; I ask nothing better."


"Very well," said Mazarin, "if I place you in security, in a manner evident, palpable——"


"Ah! that is another thing," said Porthos.


"In the first place, do you accept?" asked the cardinal.


"Unfold your plan, my lord, and we will see."


"Take notice that you are shut up—captured."


"You well know, my lord, that there always remains to us a last resource."


"That of dying together."


Mazarin shuddered.


"Listen," he said; "at the end of yonder corridor is a door, of which I have the key, it leads into the park. Go, and take this key with you; you are active, vigorous, and you have arms. At a hundred steps, on turning to the left, you will find the wall of the park; get over it, and in three leaps you will be on the road and free."


"Ah! by Jove, my lord," said D'Artagnan, "you have well said, but these are only words. Where is the key you speak of?"


"Ah, my lord! You will conduct us yourself, then, to that door?"


"Very willingly, if it be necessary to reassure you," answered the minister, and Mazarin, who was delighted to get off so cheaply, led the way, in high spirits, to the corridor and opened the door.


It led into the park, as the three fugitives perceived by the night breeze which rushed into the corridor and blew the wind into their faces.


"The devil!" exclaimed the Gascon, "'tis a dreadful night, my lord. We don't know the locality, and shall never find the wall. Since your eminence has come so far, come a few steps further; conduct us, my lord, to the wall."


"Be it so," replied the cardinal; and walking in a straight line he went to the wall, at the foot of which they all four arrived at the same instant.


"Are you satisfied, gentlemen?" asked Mazarin.


"I think so, indeed; we should be hard to please if we were not. Deuce take it! three poor gentlemen escorted by a prince of the church! Ah! apropos, my lord! you remarked that we were all active, vigorous and armed."


"You are mistaken. Monsieur du Vallon and I are the only two who are armed. The count is not; and should we meet with one of your patrol we must defend ourselves."


"'Tis true."


"Where can we find another sword?" asked Porthos.


"My lord," said D'Artagnan, "will lend his, which is of no use to him, to the Comte de la Fère."


"Willingly," said the cardinal; "I will even ask the count to keep it for my sake."


"I promise you, my lord, never to part with it," replied Athos.


"Well, well," cried D'Artagnan, "this reconciliation is truly touching; have you not tears in your eyes, Porthos?"


"Yes," said Porthos; "but I do not know if it is feeling or the wind that makes me weep; I think it is the wind."


"Now climb up, Athos, quickly," said D'Artagnan. Athos, assisted by Porthos, who lifted him up like a feather, arrived at the top.


"Now, jump down, Athos."


Athos jumped and disappeared on the other side of the wall.


"Are you on the ground?" asked D'Artagnan.


"Without accident?"


"Perfectly safe and sound."


"Porthos, whilst I get up, watch the cardinal. No, I don't want your help, watch the cardinal."


"I am watching," said Porthos. "Well?"


"You are right; it is more difficult than I thought. Lend me your back—but don't let the cardinal go."


Porthos lent him his back and D'Artagnan was soon on the summit of the wall, where he seated himself.


Mazarin pretended to laugh.


"Are you there?" asked Porthos.


"Yes, my friend; and now——"


"Now, what?" asked Porthos.


"Now give me the cardinal up here; if he makes any noise stifle him."


Mazarin wished to call out, but Porthos held him tight and passed him to D'Artagnan, who seized him by the neck and made him sit down by him; then in a menacing tone, he said:


"Sir! jump directly down, close to Monsieur de la Fère, or, on the honor of a gentleman, I'll kill you!"


"Monsieur, monsieur," cried Mazarin, "you are breaking your word to me!"


"I—did I promise you anything, my lord?"


"You are free," he said, "through me; your liberty was my ransom."


"Agreed; but the ransom of that immense treasure buried under the gallery, to which one descends on pushing a spring hidden in the wall, which causes a tub to turn, revealing a staircase—must not one speak of that a little, my lord?"


"Diavolo!" cried Mazarin, almost choked, and clasping his hands; "I am a lost and ruined man!"


But without listening to his protestations of alarm, D'Artagnan slipped him gently down into the arms of Athos, who stood immovable at the bottom of the wall.


Porthos next made an effort which shook the solid wall, and by the aid of his friend's hand gained the summit.


"I didn't understand it all," he said, "but I understand now; how droll it is!"


"You think so? so much the better; but that it may prove laughter-worthy even to the end, let us not lose time." And he jumped off the wall.


Porthos did the same.


The Gascon then drew his sword and marched as avant guard.


"My lord," he said, "which way do we go? Think well of your reply, for should your eminence be mistaken, there might ensue most grave results for all of us."


"Along the wall, sir," said Mazarin, "there will be no danger of losing yourselves."


The three friends hastened on, but in a short time were obliged to slacken the pace. The cardinal could not keep up with them, though with every wish to do so.


Suddenly D'Artagnan touched something warm, which moved.


"Stop! a horse!" he cried; "I have found a horse!"


"I, too," said Porthos, who, faithful to the instructions, still held the cardinal's arm.


"There's luck, my lord! just as you were complaining of being tired and obliged to walk."


But as he spoke the barrel of a pistol was presented at his breast and these words were pronounced:


"Touch it not!"


"Grimaud!" he cried; "Grimaud! what art thou about? Why, thou art posted here by Heaven!"


"No, sir," said the honest servant, "it was Monsieur Aramis who posted me here to take care of the horses."


"Is Aramis here?"


"Yes, sir; he has been here since yesterday."


"On the watch——"


"What! Aramis here?" cried Athos.


"At the lesser gate of the castle; he's posted there."


"Are you a large party?"


"Sixty."


"Let him know."


"This moment, sir."


And believing that no one could execute the commission better than himself, Grimaud set off at full speed; whilst, enchanted at being all together again, the friends awaited his return.


There was no one in the whole group in a bad humor except Cardinal Mazarin.


Chapter LXXXVII. Thinking that Porthos will be at last a Baron, and D'Artagnan a Captain.


At the expiration of ten minutes Aramis arrived, accompanied by Grimaud and eight or ten followers. He was excessively delighted and threw himself into his friends' arms.


"You are free, my brothers! free without my aid! and I shall have succeeded in doing nothing for you in spite of all my efforts."


"Do not be unhappy, dear friend, on that account; if you have done nothing as yet, you will do something soon," replied Athos.


"I had well concerted my plans," pursued Aramis; "the coadjutor gave me sixty men; twenty guard the walls of the park, twenty the road from Rueil to Saint Germain, twenty are dispersed in the woods. Thus I was able, thanks to the strategic disposition of my forces, to intercept two couriers from Mazarin to the queen."


Mazarin listened intently.


"But," said D'Artagnan, "I trust that you honorably sent them back to monsieur le cardinal!"


"Ah, yes!" said Aramis, "toward him I should be very likely to practice such delicacy of sentiment! In one of the despatches the cardinal declares to the queen that the treasury is empty and that her majesty has no more money. In the other he announces that he is about to transport his prisoners to Melun, since Rueil seemed to him not sufficiently secure. You can understand, dear friend, with what hope I was inspired by that last letter. I placed myself in ambuscade with my sixty men; I encircled the castle; the riding horses I entrusted to Grimaud and I awaited your coming out, which I did not expect till to-morrow, and I didn't hope to free you without a skirmish. You are free to-night, without fighting; so much the better! How did you manage to escape that scoundrel Mazarin? You must have much reason to complain of him."


"Not very much," said D'Artagnan.


"Really!"


"I might even say that we have some reason to praise him."


"Yes, really; it is owing to him that we are free."


"Owing to him?"


"Yes, he had us conducted into the orangery by Monsieur Bernouin, his valet-de-chambre, and from there we followed him to visit the Comte de la Fère. Then he offered us our liberty and we accepted it. He even went so far as to show us the way out; he led us to the park wall, which we climbed over without accident, and then we fell in with Grimaud."


"Well!" exclaimed Aramis, "this will reconcile me to him; but I wish he were here that I might tell him that I did not believe him capable of so noble an act."


"My lord," said D'Artagnan, no longer able to contain himself, "allow me to introduce to you the Chevalier d'Herblay, who wishes—as you may have heard—to offer his congratulations to your eminence."


And he retired, discovering Mazarin, who was in great confusion, to the astonished gaze of Aramis.


"Ho! ho!" exclaimed the latter, "the cardinal! a glorious prize! Halloo! halloo! friends! to horse! to horse!"


Several horsemen ran quickly to him.


"Zounds!" cried Aramis, "I may have done some good; so, my lord, deign to receive my most respectful homage! I will lay a wager that 'twas that Saint Christopher, Porthos, who performed this feat! Apropos! I forgot——" and he gave some orders in a low voice to one of the horsemen.


"I think it will be wise to set off," said D'Artagnan.


"Yes; but I am expecting some one, a friend of Athos."


"A friend!" exclaimed the count.


"And here he comes, by Jupiter! galloping through the bushes."


"The count! the count!" cried a young voice that made Athos start.


For one moment the young man forgot his habitual respect—he threw himself on his father's neck.


"Look, my lord cardinal," said Aramis, "would it not have been a pity to have separated men who love each other as we love? Gentlemen," he continued, addressing the cavaliers, who became more and more numerous every instant; "gentlemen, encircle his eminence, that you may show him the greater honor. He will, indeed give us the favor of his company; you will, I hope, be grateful for it; Porthos, do not lose sight of his eminence."


Aramis then joined Athos and D'Artagnan, who were consulting together.


"Come," said D'Artagnan, after a conference of five minutes' duration, "let us begin our journey."


"Where are we to go?" asked Porthos.


"To your house, dear Porthos, at Pierrefonds; your fine château is worthy of affording its princely hospitality to his eminence; it is, likewise, well situated—neither too near Paris, nor too far from it; we can establish a communication between it and the capital with great facility. Come, my lord, you shall be treated like a prince, as you are."


"A fallen prince!" exclaimed Mazarin, piteously.


"The chances of war," said Athos, "are many, but be assured we shall take no improper advantage of them."


"No, but we shall make use of them," said D'Artagnan.


The rest of the night was employed by these cavaliers in traveling with the wonderful rapidity of former days. Mazarin, still sombre and pensive, permitted himself to be dragged along in this way; it looked a race of phantoms. At dawn twelve leagues had been passed without drawing rein; half the escort were exhausted and several horses fell down.


"Horses, nowadays, are not what they were formerly," observed Porthos; "everything degenerates."


"I have sent Grimaud to Dammartin," said Aramis. "He is to bring us five fresh horses—one for his eminence, four for us. We, at least, must keep close to monseigneur; the rest of the start will rejoin us later. Once beyond Saint Denis we shall have nothing to fear."


Grimaud, in fact, brought back five horses. The nobleman to whom he applied, being a friend of Porthos, was very ready, not to sell them, as was proposed, but to lend them. Ten minutes later the escort stopped at Ermenonville, but the four friends went on with well sustained ardor, guarding Mazarin carefully. At noon they rode into the avenue of Pierrefonds.


"Ah!" said Mousqueton, who had ridden by the side of D'Artagnan without speaking a word on the journey, "you may think what you will, sir, but I can breathe now for the first time since my departure from Pierrefonds;" and he put his horse to a gallop to announce to the other servants the arrival of Monsieur du Vallon and his friends.


"We are four of us," said D'Artagnan; "we must relieve each other in mounting guard over my lord and each of us must watch three hours at a time. Athos is going to examine the castle, which it will be necessary to render impregnable in case of siege; Porthos will see to the provisions and Aramis to the troops of the garrison. That is to say, Athos will be chief engineer, Porthos purveyor-in-general, and Aramis governor of the fortress."


Meanwhile, they gave up to Mazarin the handsomest room in the château.


"Gentlemen," he said, when he was in his room, "you do not expect, I presume, to keep me here a long time incognito?"


"No, my lord," replied the Gascon; "on the contrary, we think of announcing very soon that we have you here."


"Then you will be besieged."


"We expect it."


"And what shall you do?"


"Defend ourselves. Were the late Cardinal Richelieu alive he would tell you a certain story of the Bastion Saint Gervais, which we four, with our four lackeys and twelve dead men, held out against a whole army."


"Such feats, sir, are done once—and never repeated."


"However, nowadays there's no need of so much heroism. To-morrow the army of Paris will be summoned, the day after it will be here! The field of battle, instead, therefore, of being at Saint Denis or at Charenton, will be near Compiègne or Villars-Cotterets."


"The prince will vanquish you, as he has always done."


"'Tis possible; my lord; but before an engagement ensues we shall move your eminence to another castle belonging to our friend Du Vallon, who has three. We will not expose your eminence to the chances of war."


"Come," answered Mazarin, "I see it will be necessary for me to capitulate."


"Yes; the conditions will be better than afterward."


"Ah, my lord! as to conditions, you would soon see how moderate and reasonable we are!"


"Come, now, what are your conditions?"


"Rest yourself first, my lord, and we—we will reflect."


"I do not need rest, gentlemen; I need to know whether I am among enemies or friends."


"Well, then, tell me at once what you want, that I may see if any arrangement be possible. Speak, Comte de la Fère!"


"My lord," replied Athos, "for myself I have nothing to demand. For France, were I to specify my wishes, I should have too much. I beg you to excuse me and propose to the chevalier."


And Athos, bowing, retired and remained leaning against the mantelpiece, a spectator of the scene.


"Speak, then, chevalier!" said the cardinal. "What do you want? Nothing ambiguous, if you please. Be clear, short and precise."


"As for me," replied Aramis, "I have in my pocket the very programme of the conditions which the deputation—of which I formed one—went yesterday to Saint Germain to impose on you. Let us consider first the ancient rights. The demands in that programme must be granted."


"We were almost agreed on those," replied Mazarin; "let us pass on to private and personal stipulations."


"You suppose, then, that there are some?" said Aramis, smiling.


"I do not suppose that you will all be quite so disinterested as Monsieur de la Fère," replied the cardinal, bowing to Athos.


"My lord, you are right, and I am glad to see that you do justice to the count at last. The count has a mind above vulgar desires and earthly passions. He is a proud soul—he is a man by himself! You are right—he is worth us all, and we avow it to you!"


"Aramis," said Athos, "are you jesting?"


"No, no, dear friend; I state only what we all know. You are right; it is not you alone this matter concerns, but my lord and his unworthy servant, myself."


"Well, then, what do you require besides the general conditions before recited?"


"I require, my lord, that Normandy should be given to Madame de Longueville, with five hundred thousand francs and full absolution. I require that his majesty should deign to be godfather to the child she has just borne; and that my lord, after having been present at the christening, should go to proffer his homage to our Holy Father the Pope."


"That is, you wish me to lay aside my ministerial functions, to quit France and be an exile."


"I wish his eminence to become pope on the first opportunity, allowing me then the right of demanding full indulgences for myself and my friends."


Mazarin made a grimace which was quite indescribable, and then turned to D'Artagnan.


"I, my lord," answered the Gascon, "I differ from Monsieur d'Herblay entirely as to the last point, though I agree with him on the first. Far from wishing my lord to quit Paris, I hope he will stay there and continue to be prime minister, as he is a great statesman. I shall try also to help him to down the Fronde, but on one condition—that he sometimes remembers the king's faithful servants and gives the first vacant company of musketeers to a man that I could name. And you, Monsieur du Vallon——"


"As for me," answered Porthos, "I wish my lord cardinal, in order to do honor to my house, which gives him an asylum, would in remembrance of this adventure erect my estate into a barony, with a promise to confer that order on one of my particular friends, whenever his majesty next creates peers."


"You know, sir, that before receiving the order one must submit proofs."


"My friends will submit them. Besides, should it be necessary, monseigneur will show him how that formality may be avoided."


Mazarin bit his lips; the blow was direct and he replied rather dryly:


"All this appears to me to be ill conceived, disjointed, gentlemen; for if I satisfy some I shall displease others. If I stay in Paris I cannot go to Rome; if I became pope I could not continue to be prime minister; and it is only by continuing prime minister that I can make Monsieur d'Artagnan a captain and Monsieur du Vallon a baron."


"True," said Aramis, "so, as I am in a minority, I withdraw my proposition, so far as it relates to the voyage to Rome and monseigneur's resignation."


"I am to remain minister, then?" said Mazarin.


"You remain minister; that is understood," said D'Artagnan; "France needs you."


"And I desist from my pretensions," said Aramis. "His eminence will continue to be prime minister and her majesty's favorite, if he will grant to me and my friends what we demand for France and for ourselves."


"Occupy yourselves with your own affairs, gentlemen, and let France settle matters as she will with me," resumed Mazarin.


"Ho! ho!" replied Aramis. "The Frondeurs will have a treaty and your eminence must sign it before us, promising at the same time to obtain the queen's consent to it."


"I can answer only for myself," said Mazarin. "I cannot answer for the queen. Suppose her majesty refuses?"


"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "monseigneur knows very well that her majesty refuses him nothing."


"Here, monseigneur," said Aramis, "is the treaty proposed by the deputation of Frondeurs. Will your eminence please read and examine?"


"I am acquainted with it."


"Sign it, then."


"Reflect, gentlemen, that a signature given under circumstances like the present might be regarded as extorted by violence."


"Monseigneur will be at hand to testify that it was freely given."


"Then," said D'Artagnan, "your eminence must expect the consequences of a refusal."


"Would you dare to touch a cardinal?"


"You have dared, my lord, to imprison her majesty's musketeers."


"I do not think so, although inclination might lead her to do so, but we shall take your eminence to Paris, and the Parisians will defend us."


"How uneasy they must be at this moment at Rueil and Saint Germain," said Aramis. "How they must be asking, 'Where is the cardinal?' 'What has become of the minister?' 'Where has the favorite gone?' How they must be looking for monseigneur in all corners! What comments must be made; and if the Fronde knows that monseigneur has disappeared, how the Fronde must triumph!"


"It is frightful," murmured Mazarin.


"Sign the treaty, then, monseigneur," said Aramis.


"Suppose the queen should refuse to ratify it?"


"Ah! nonsense!" cried D'Artagnan, "I can manage so that her majesty will receive me well; I know an excellent method."


"I shall take her majesty the letter in which you tell her that the finances are exhausted."


"And then?" asked Mazarin, turning pale.


"When I see her majesty embarrassed, I shall conduct her to Rueil, make her enter the orangery and show her a certain spring which turns a box."


"Enough, sir," muttered the cardinal, "you have said enough; where is the treaty?"


"Here it is," replied Aramis. "Sign, my lord," and he gave him a pen.


Mazarin arose, walked some moments, thoughtful, but not dejected.


"And when I have signed," he said, "what is to be my guarantee?"


"My word of honor, sir," said Athos.


Mazarin started, turned toward the Comte de la Fère, and looking for an instant at that grand and honest countenance, took the pen.


"It is sufficient, count," he said, and signed the treaty.


"And now, Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, "prepare to set off for Saint Germain and take a letter from me to the queen."


Chapter LXXXVIII. Shows how with Threat and Pen more is effected than by the Sword.


D'Artagnan knew his part well; he was aware that opportunity has a forelock only for him who will take it and he was not a man to let it go by him without seizing it. He soon arranged a prompt and certain manner of traveling, by sending relays of horses to Chantilly, so that he might be in Paris in five or six hours. But before setting out he reflected that for a lad of intelligence and experience he was in a singular predicament, since he was proceeding toward uncertainty and leaving certainty behind him.