Vingt ans après. English by Alexandre Dumas
13. Two Angelic Faces.
The road was long, but the horses upon which D'Artagnan and Planchetrode had been refreshed in the well supplied stables of the Lord ofBracieux; the master and servant rode side by side, conversing as theywent, for D'Artagnan had by degrees thrown off the master and Planchethad entirely ceased to assume the manners of a servant. He had beenraised by circumstances to the rank of a confidant to his master. It wasmany years since D'Artagnan had opened his heart to any one; ithappened, however, that these two men, on meeting again, assimilatedperfectly. Planchet was in truth no vulgar companion in these newadventures; he was a man of uncommonly sound sense. Without courtingdanger he never shrank from an encounter; in short, he had been asoldier and arms ennoble a man; it was, therefore, on the footing offriends that D'Artagnan and Planchet arrived in the neighborhood ofBlois.
Going along, D'Artagnan, shaking his head, said:
"I know that my going to Athos is useless and absurd; but still I owethis courtesy to my old friend, a man who had in him material for themost noble and generous of characters."
"Oh, Monsieur Athos was a noble gentleman," said Planchet, "was he not?Scattering money round about him as Heaven sprinkles rain. Do youremember, sir, that duel with the Englishman in the inclosure desCarmes? Ah! how lofty, how magnificent Monsieur Athos was that day, whenhe said to his adversary: 'You have insisted on knowing my name, sir; somuch the worse for you, since I shall be obliged to kill you.' I wasnear him, those were his exact words, when he stabbed his foe as he saidhe would, and his adversary fell without saying, 'Oh!' 'Tis a noblegentleman--Monsieur Athos."
"Yes, true as Gospel," said D'Artagnan; "but one single fault hasswallowed up all these fine qualities."
"I remember well," said Planchet, "he was fond of drinking--in truth, hedrank, but not as other men drink. One seemed, as he raised the wine tohis lips, to hear him say, 'Come, juice of the grape, and chase away mysorrows.' And how he used to break the stem of a glass or the neck of abottle! There was no one like him for that."
"And now," replied D'Artagnan, "behold the sad spectacle that awaits us.This noble gentleman with his lofty glance, this handsome cavalier, sobrilliant in feats of arms that every one was surprised that he held inhis hand a sword only instead of a baton of command! Alas! we shall findhim changed into a broken down old man, with garnet nose and eyes thatslobber; we shall find him extended on some lawn, whence he will look atus with a languid eye and peradventure will not recognize us. God knows,Planchet, that I should fly from a sight so sad if I did not wish toshow my respect for the illustrious shadow of what was once the Comte dela Fere, whom we loved so much."
Planchet shook his head and said nothing. It was evident that he sharedhis master's apprehensions.
"And then," resumed D'Artagnan, "to this decrepitude is probably addedpoverty, for he must have neglected the little that he had, and thedirty scoundrel, Grimaud, more taciturn than ever and still more drunkenthan his master--stay, Planchet, it breaks my heart to merely think ofit."
"I fancy myself there and that I see him staggering and hear himstammering," said Planchet, in a piteous tone, "but at all events weshall soon know the real state of things, for I imagine that those loftywalls, now turning ruby in the setting sun, are the walls of Blois."
"Probably; and those steeples, pointed and sculptured, that we catch aglimpse of yonder, are similar to those that I have heard described atChambord."
At this moment one of those heavy wagons, drawn by bullocks, which carrythe wood cut in the fine forests of the country to the ports of theLoire, came out of a byroad full of ruts and turned on that which thetwo horsemen were following. A man carrying a long switch with a nail atthe end of it, with which he urged on his slow team, was walking withthe cart.
"Ho! friend," cried Planchet.
"What's your pleasure, gentlemen?" replied the peasant, with a purity ofaccent peculiar to the people of that district and which might have putto shame the cultured denizens of the Sorbonne and the Rue del'Universite.
"We are looking for the house of Monsieur de la Fere," said D'Artagnan.
The peasant took off his hat on hearing this revered name.
"Gentlemen," he said, "the wood that I am carting is his; I cut it inhis copse and I am taking it to the chateau."
D'Artagnan determined not to question this man; he did not wish to hearfrom another what he had himself said to Planchet.
"The chateau!" he said to himself, "what chateau? Ah, I understand!Athos is not a man to be thwarted; he, like Porthos, has obliged hispeasantry to call him 'my lord,' and to dignify his pettifogging placeby the name of chateau. He had a heavy hand--dear old Athos--afterdrinking."
D'Artagnan, after asking the man the right way, continued his route,agitated in spite of himself at the idea of seeing once more thatsingular man whom he had so truly loved and who had contributed so muchby advice and example to his education as a gentleman. He checked bydegrees the speed of his horse and went on, his head drooping as if indeep thought.
Soon, as the road turned, the Chateau de la Valliere appeared in view;then, a quarter of a mile beyond, a white house, encircled in sycamores,was visible at the farther end of a group of trees, which spring hadpowdered with a snow of flowers.
On beholding this house, D'Artagnan, calm as he was in general, felt anunusual disturbance within his heart--so powerful during the wholecourse of life are the recollections of youth. He proceeded,nevertheless, and came opposite to an iron gate, ornamented in the tasteof the period.
Through the gate was seen kitchen-gardens, carefully attended to, aspacious courtyard, in which neighed several horses held by valets invarious liveries, and a carriage, drawn by two horses of the country.
"We are mistaken," said D'Artagnan. "This cannot be the establishment ofAthos. Good heavens! suppose he is dead and that this property nowbelongs to some one who bears his name. Alight, Planchet, and inquire,for I confess that I have scarcely courage so to do."
Planchet alighted.
"Thou must add," said D'Artagnan, "that a gentleman who is passing bywishes to have the honor of paying his respects to the Comte de la Fere,and if thou art satisfied with what thou hearest, then mention my name!"
Planchet, leading his horse by the bridle, drew near to the gate andrang the bell, and immediately a servant-man with white hair and oferect stature, notwithstanding his age, presented himself.
"Does Monsieur le Comte de la Fere live here?" asked Planchet.
"Yes, monsieur, it is here he lives," the servant replied to Planchet,who was not in livery.
"A nobleman retired from service, is he not?"
"Yes."
"And who had a lackey named Grimaud?" persisted Planchet, who hadprudently considered that he couldn't have too much information.
"Monsieur Grimaud is absent from the chateau for the time being," saidthe servitor, who, little used as he was to such inquiries, began toexamine Planchet from head to foot.
"Then," cried Planchet joyously, "I see well that it is the same Comtede la Fere whom we seek. Be good enough to open to me, for I wish toannounce to monsieur le comte that my master, one of his friends, ishere, and wishes to greet him."
"Why didn't you say so?" said the servitor, opening the gate. "But whereis your master?"
"He is following me."
The servitor opened the gate and walked before Planchet, who made a signto D'Artagnan. The latter, his heart palpitating more than ever, enteredthe courtyard without dismounting.
Whilst Planchet was standing on the steps before the house he heard avoice say:
"Well, where is this gentleman and why do they not bring him here?"
This voice, the sound of which reached D'Artagnan, reawakened in hisheart a thousand sentiments, a thousand recollections that he hadforgotten. He vaulted hastily from his horse, whilst Planchet, with asmile on his lips, advanced toward the master of the house.
"But I know you, my lad," said Athos, appearing on the threshold.
"
"What, Planchet, is Monsieur d'Artagnan here?"
"Here I am, my friend, dear Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, in a falteringvoice and almost staggering from agitation.
At these words a visible emotion was expressed on the beautifulcountenance and calm features of Athos. He rushed toward D'Artagnan witheyes fixed upon him and clasped him in his arms. D'Artagnan, equallymoved, pressed him also closely to him, whilst tears stood in his eyes.Athos then took him by the hand and led him into the drawing-room, wherethere were several people. Every one arose.
"I present to you," he said, "Monsieur le Chevalier D'Artagnan,lieutenant of his majesty's musketeers, a devoted friend and one of themost excellent, brave gentlemen that I have ever known."
D'Artagnan received the compliments of those who were present in his ownway, and whilst the conversation became general he looked earnestly atAthos.
Strange! Athos was scarcely aged at all! His fine eyes, no longersurrounded by that dark line which nights of dissipation pencil tooinfallibly, seemed larger, more liquid than ever. His face, a littleelongated, had gained in calm dignity what it had lost in feverishexcitement. His hand, always wonderfully beautiful and strong, was setoff by a ruffle of lace, like certain hands by Titian and Vandyck. Hewas less stiff than formerly. His long, dark hair, softly powdered hereand there with silver tendrils, fell elegantly over his shoulders inwavy curls; his voice was still youthful, as if belonging to a Herculesof twenty-five, and his magnificent teeth, which he had preserved whiteand sound, gave an indescribable charm to his smile.
Meanwhile the guests, seeing that the two friends were longing to bealone, prepared to depart, when a noise of dogs barking resoundedthrough the courtyard and many persons said at the same moment:
"Ah! 'tis Raoul, who is come home."
Athos, as the name of Raoul was pronounced, looked inquisitively atD'Artagnan, in order to see if any curiosity was painted on his face.But D'Artagnan was still in confusion and turned around almostmechanically when a fine young man of fifteen years of age, dressedsimply, but in perfect taste, entered the room, raising, as he came, hishat, adorned with a long plume of scarlet feathers.
Nevertheless, D'Artagnan was struck by the appearance of this newpersonage. It seemed to explain to him the change in Athos; aresemblance between the boy and the man explained the mystery of thisregenerated existence. He remained listening and gazing.
"Here you are, home again, Raoul," said the comte.
"Yes, sir," replied the youth, with deep respect, "and I have performedthe commission that you gave me."
"But what's the matter, Raoul?" said Athos, very anxiously. "You arepale and agitated."
"Sir," replied the young man, "it is on account of an accident which hashappened to our little neighbor."
"To Mademoiselle de la Valliere?" asked Athos, quickly.
"What is it?" cried many persons present.
"She was walking with her nurse Marceline, in the place where thewoodmen cut the wood, when, passing on horseback, I stopped. She saw mealso and in trying to jump from the end of a pile of wood on which shehad mounted, the poor child fell and was not able to rise again. I fearthat she has badly sprained her ankle."
"Oh, heavens!" cried Athos. "And her mother, Madame de Saint-Remy, havethey yet told her of it?"
"No, sir, Madame de Saint-Remy is at Blois with the Duchess of Orleans.I am afraid that what was first done was unskillful, if not worse thanuseless. I am come, sir, to ask your advice."
"Send directly to Blois, Raoul; or, rather, take horse and rideimmediately yourself."
Raoul bowed.
"But where is Louise?" asked the comte.
"I have brought her here, sir, and I have deposited her in charge ofCharlotte, who, till better advice comes, has bathed the foot in coldwell-water."
The guests now all took leave of Athos, excepting the old Duc de Barbe,who, as an old friend of the family of La Valliere, went to see littleLouise and offered to take her to Blois in his carriage.
"You are right, sir," said Athos. "She will be the sooner with hermother. As for you, Raoul, I am sure it is your fault, some giddiness orfolly."
"No, sir, I assure you," muttered Raoul, "it is not."
"Oh, no, no, I declare it is not!" cried the young girl, while Raoulturned pale at the idea of his being perhaps the cause of her disaster.
"Nevertheless, Raoul, you must go to Blois and you must make yourexcuses and mine to Madame de Saint-Remy."
The youth looked pleased. He again took in his strong arms the littlegirl, whose pretty golden head and smiling face rested on his shoulder,and placed her gently in the carriage; then jumping on his horse withthe elegance of a first-rate esquire, after bowing to Athos andD'Artagnan, he went off close by the door of the carriage, on somebodyinside of which his eyes were riveted.