CHAPTER 37
How D'Artagnan regulated the "Assets" of the
Company before he established its "Liabilities"
"Decidedly," said D'Artagnan to himself, "I have struck a
good vein. That star which shines once in the life of every
man, which shone for Job and Iris, the most unfortunate of
the Jews and the poorest of the Greeks, is come at last to
shine on me. I will commit no folly, I will take advantage
of it; it comes quite late enough to find me reasonable."
He supped that evening, in very good humor, with his friend
Athos; he said nothing to him about the expected donation,
but he could not forbear questioning his friend, while
eating, about country produce, sowing, and planting. Athos
replied complacently, as he always did. His idea was that
D'Artagnan wished to become a land-owner, only he could not
help regretting, more than once, the absence of the lively
humor and amusing sallies of the cheerful companion of
former days. In fact, D'Artagnan was so absorbed, that, with
his knife, he took advantage of the grease left at the
bottom of his plate, to trace ciphers and make additions of
surprising rotundity.
The order, or rather license, for their embarkation, arrived
at Athos's lodgings that evening. While this paper was
remitted to the comte, another messenger brought to
D'Artagnan a little bundle of parchments, adorned with all
the seals employed in setting off property deeds in England.
Athos surprised him turning over the leaves of these
different acts which establish the transmission of property.
The prudent Monk -- others would say the generous Monk --
had commuted the donation into a sale, and acknowledged the
receipt of the sum of fifteen thousand crowns as the price
of the property ceded. The messenger was gone. D'Artagnan
still continued reading, Athos watched him with a smile.
D'Artagnan, surprising one of those smiles over his
shoulder, put the bundle in its wrapper.
"I beg your pardon," said Athos.
"Oh! not at all, my friend," replied the lieutenant, "I
shall tell you ---- "
"No, don't tell me anything, I beg you; orders are things so
sacred, that to one's brother, one's father, the person
charged with such orders should never open his mouth. Thus
I, who speak to you, and love you more tenderly than
brother, father, or all the world ---- "
"Except your Raoul?"
"I shall love Raoul still better when he shall be a man, and
I shall have seen him develop himself in all the phases of
his character and his actions -- as I have seen you, my
friend."
"You said, then, that you had an order likewise, and that
you would not communicate it to me."
"Yes, my dear D'Artagnan."
The Gascon sighed. "There was a time," said he, "when you
would have placed that order open upon the table, saying,
`D'Artagnan, read this scrawl to Porthos, Aramis, and to
me.'"
"That is true. Oh! that was the time of youth, confidence,
the generous season when the blood commands, when it is
warmed by feeling!"
"Well! Athos, will you allow me to tell you?"
"Speak, my friend!"
"That delightful time, that generous season, that ruling by
warm blood, were all very fine things, no doubt; but I do
not regret them at all. It is absolutely like the period of
studies. I have constantly met with fools who would boast of
the days of pensums, ferules and crusts of dry bread. It is
singular, but I never loved all that; for my part, however
active and sober I might be (you know if I was so, Athos),
however simple I might appear in my clothes, I would not the
less have preferred the braveries and embroideries of
Porthos to my little perforated cassock, which gave passage
to the wind in winter and the sun in summer. I should
always, my friend, mistrust him who would pretend to prefer
evil to good. Now, in times past all went wrong with me, and
every month found a fresh hole in my cassock and in my skin,
a gold crown less in my poor purse; of that execrable time
of small beer and see-saw, I regret absolutely nothing,
nothing, nothing save our friendship; for within me I have a
heart, and it is a miracle that heart has not been dried up
by the wind of poverty which passed through the holes of my
cloak, or pierced by the swords of all shapes which passed
through the holes in my poor flesh."
"Do not regret our friendship," said Athos, "that will only
die with ourselves. Friendship is composed, above all
things, of memories and habits, and if you have just now
made a little satire upon mine, because I hesitate to tell
you the nature of my mission into France ---- "
"Who! I? -- Oh! heavens! if you knew, my dear friend, how
indifferent all the missions of the world will henceforth
become to me!" And he laid his hand upon the parchment in
his vest pocket.
Athos rose from the table and called the host in order to
pay the reckoning.
"Since I have known you, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "I
have never discharged the reckoning. Porthos often did,
Aramis sometimes, and you, you almost always drew out your
purse with the dessert. I am now rich and should like to try
if it is heroic to pay."
"Do so," said Athos; returning his purse to his pocket.
The two friends then directed their steps towards the port,
not, however, without D'Artagnan's frequently turning round
to watch the transportation of his dear crowns. Night had
just spread her thick veil over the yellow waters of the
Thames; they heard those noises of casks and pulleys, the
preliminaries of preparing to sail which had so many times
made the hearts of the musketeers beat when the dangers of
the sea were the least of those they were going to face.
This time they were to embark on board a large vessel which
awaited them at Gravesend, and Charles II., always delicate
in small matters, had sent one of his yachts, with twelve
men of his Scotch guard, to do honor to the ambassador he
was sending to France. At midnight the yacht had deposited
its passengers on board the vessel, and at eight o'clock in
the morning, the vessel landed the ambassador and his friend
on the wharf at Boulogne. Whilst the comte, with Grimaud,
was busy procuring horses to go straight to Paris,
D'Artagnan hastened to the hostelry where, according to his
orders, his little army was to wait for him. These gentlemen
were at breakfast upon oysters, fish, and spiced brandy,
when D'Artagnan appeared. They were all very gay, but not
one of them had yet exceeded the bounds of reason. A hurrah
of joy welcomed the general. "Here I am," said D'Artagnan,
"the campaign is ended. I am come to bring to each his
supplement of pay, as agreed upon." Their eyes sparkled. "I
will lay a wager there are not, at this moment, a hundred
crowns remaining in the purse of the richest among you."
"That is true," cried they in chorus.
"Gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "then, this is the last order.
The treaty of commerce has been concluded thanks to our
coup-de-main which made us masters of the most skillful
financier of England, for now I am at liberty to confess to
you that the man we had to carry off was the treasurer of
General Monk."
This word treasurer produced a certain effect on his army.
D'Artagnan observed that the eyes of Menneville alone did
not evince perfect faith. "This treasurer," he continued, "I
conveyed to a neutral territory, Holland; I forced him to
sign the treaty; I have even reconducted him to Newcastle,
and as he was obliged to be satisfied with our proceedings
towards him -- the deal coffer being always carried without
jolting, and being lined softly, I asked for a gratification
for you. Here it is." He threw a respectable-looking purse
upon the cloth; and all involuntarily stretched out their
hands. "One moment, my lambs," said D'Artagnan; "if there
are profits, there are also charges."
"Oh! oh!" murmured they.
"We are about to find ourselves, my friends, in a position
that would not be tenable for people without brains. I speak
plainly: we are between the gallows and the Bastile."
"Oh! oh!" said the chorus.
"That is easily understood. It was necessary to explain to
General Monk the disappearance of his treasurer. I waited,
for that purpose, till the very unhopedfor moment of the
restoration of King Charles II., who is one of my friends."
The army exchanged a glance of satisfaction in reply to the
sufficiently proud look of D'Artagnan. "The king being
restored, I restored to Monk his man of business, a little
plucked, it is true, but, in short, I restored him. Now,
General Monk, when he pardoned me, for he has pardoned me,
could not help repeating these words to me, which I charge
every one of you to engrave deeply there, between the eyes,
under the vault of the cranium: -- `Monsieur, the joke has
been a good one, but I don't naturally like jokes; if ever a
word of what you have done' (you understand me, Menneville)
`escapes from your lips, or the lips of your companions, I
have, in my government of Scotland and Ireland, seven
hundred and forty-one wooden gibbets, of strong oak, clamped
with iron, and freshly greased every week. I will make a
present of one of these gibbets to each of you, and observe
well, M. d'Artagnan,' added he (observe it also, M.
Menneville), `I shall still have seven hundred and thirty
left for my private pleasure. And still further ---- '"
"Ah! ah!" said the auxiliaries, "is there more still?"
"A mere trifle. `Monsieur d'Artagnan, I send to the king of
France the treaty in question, with a request that he will
cast into the Bastile provisionally, and then send to me,
all who have taken part in this expedition; and that is a
prayer with which the king will certainly comply.'"
A cry of terror broke from all corners of the table.
"There! there! there," said D'Artagnan, "this brave M. Monk
has forgotten one thing, and that is he does not know the
name of any one of you, I alone know you, and it is not I,
you may well believe, who will betray you. Why should I? As
for you -- I cannot suppose you will be silly enough to
denounce yourselves, for then the king, to spare himself the
expense of feeding and lodging you, will send you off to
Scotland, where the seven hundred and forty-one gibbets are
to be found. That is all, messieurs; I have not another word
to add to what I have had the honor to tell you. I am sure
you have understood me perfectly well, have you not, M.
Menneville?"
"Perfectly," replied the latter.
"Now the crowns!" said D'Artagnan. "Shut the doors," he
cried, and opened the bag upon the table, from which rolled
several fine gold crowns. Every one made a movement towards
the floor.
"Gently!" cried D'Artagnan. "Let no one stoop, and then I
shall not be out in my reckoning." He found it all right,
gave fifty of those splendid crowns to each man, and
received as many benedictions as he bestowed pieces. "Now,"
said he, "if it were possible for you to reform a little, if
you could become good and honest citizens ---- "
"That is rather difficult," said one of the troop.
"What then, captain?" said another.
"Because I might be able to find you again, and, who knows
what other good fortune?" He made a sign to Menneville, who
listened to all he said with a composed air. "Menneville,"
said he, "come with me. Adieu my brave fellows! I need not
warn you to be discreet."
Menneville followed him, whilst the salutations of the
auxiliaries were mingled with the sweet sound of the money
clinking in their pockets.
"Menneville," said D'Artagnan, when they were once in the
street, "you were not my dupe; beware of being so. You did
not appear to me to have any fear of the gibbets of Monk, or
the Bastile of his majesty, King Louis XIV., but you will do
me the favor of being afraid of me. Then listen at the
smallest word that shall escape you, I will kill you as I
would a fowl. I have absolution from our holy father, the
pope, in my pocket."
"I assure you I know absolutely nothing, my dear M.
d'Artagnan, and that your words have all been to me so many
articles of faith."
"I was quite sure you were an intelligent fellow," said the
musketeer; "I have tried you for a length of time. These
fifty gold crowns which I give you above the rest will prove
the esteem I have for you. Take them."
"Thanks, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Menneville.
"With that sum you can really become an honest man," replied
D'Artagnan, in the most serious tone possible. "It would be
disgraceful for a mind like yours, and a name you no longer
dare to bear, to sink forever under the rust of an evil
life. Become a gallant man, Menneville, and live for a year
upon those hundred gold crowns: it is a good provision;
twice the pay of a high officer. In a year come to me, and,
Mordioux! I will make something of you."
Menneville swore, as his comrades had sworn, that he would
be as silent as the grave. And yet some one must have
spoken; and as, certainly, it was not one of the nine
companions, and quite as certainly, it was not Menneville,
it must have been D'Artagnan, who, in his quality of a
Gascon, had his tongue very near to his lips. For, in short,
if it were not he, who could it be? And how can it be
explained that the secret of the deal coffer pierced with
holes should come to our knowledge, and in so complete a
fashion that we have, as has been seen, related the history
of it in all its most minute details; details which,
besides, throw a light as new as unexpected upon all that
portion of the history of England which has been left, up to
the present day, completely in darkness by the historian of
our neighbors?
