CHAPTER 70
Wherein the Ideas of D'Artagnan, at first
strangely clouded, begin to clear up a little
D'Artagnan immediately took the offensive. Now that I have
told you all, dear friend, or rather now you have guessed
all, tell me what you are doing here, covered with dust and
mud?"
Porthos wiped his brow, and looked around him with pride.
"Why, it appears," said he, "that you may see what I am
doing here."
"No doubt, no doubt, you lift great stones."
"Oh! to show these idle fellows what a man is," said
Porthos, with contempt. "But you understand ---- "
"Yes, that it is not your place to lift stones, although
there are many whose place it is, who cannot lift them as
you do. It was that which made me ask you, just now, What
are you doing here, baron?"
"I am studying topography, chevalier."
"You are studying topography?"
"Yes; but you -- what are you doing in that common dress?"
D'Artagnan perceived he had committed a fault in giving
expression to his astonishment. Porthos had taken advantage
of it, to retort with a question. "Why," said he, "you know
I am a bourgeois, in fact; my dress, then, has nothing
astonishing in it, since it conforms with my condition."
"Nonsense! you are a musketeer."
"You are wrong, my friend; I have given in my resignation."
"Bah!"
"Oh, mon Dieu! yes."
"And have you abandoned the service?"
"I have quitted it."
"You have abandoned the king?"
"Quite."
Porthos raised his arms towards heaven, like a man who has
heard extraordinary news. "Well, that does confound me,"
said he.
"It is nevertheless true."
"And what led you to form such a resolution?"
"The king displeased me. Mazarin had disgusted me for a long
time, as you know; so I threw my cassock to the nettles."
"But Mazarin is dead."
"I know that well enough, parbleu! Only, at the period of
his death, my resignation had been given in and accepted two
months. Then, feeling myself free, I set off for
Pierrefonds, to see my friend Porthos. I had heard talk of
the happy division you had made of your time, and I wished,
for a fortnight, to divide mine after your fashion."
"My friend, you know that it is not for a fortnight my house
is open to you; it is for a year -- for ten years -- for
life."
"Thank you, Porthos."
"Ah! but perhaps you want money -- do you?" said Porthos,
making something like fifty louis chink in his pocket. "In
that case, you know ---- "
"No, thank you, I am not in want of anything. I placed my
savings with Planchet, who pays me the interest of them."
"Your savings?"
"Yes, to be sure," said D'Artagnan: "why should I not put by
my savings, as well as another, Porthos?"
"Oh, there is no reason why; on the contrary, I always
suspected you -- that is to say, Aramis always suspected you
to have savings. For my own part, d'ye see, I take no
concern about the management of my household; but I presume
the savings of a musketeer must be small."
"No doubt, relative to yourself, Porthos, who are a
millionaire; but you shall judge. I had laid by twenty-five
thousand livres."
"That's pretty well," said Porthos, with an affable air.
"And," continued D'Artagnan, "on the twenty-eighth of last
month I added to it two hundred thousand livres more."
Porthos opened his large eyes, which eloquently demanded of
the musketeer, "Where the devil did you steal such a sum as
that, my dear friend?" "Two hundred thousand livres!" cried
he, at length.
"Yes; which, with the twenty-five I had, and twenty thousand
I have about me, complete the sum of two hundred and
forty-five thousand livres."
"But tell me, whence comes this fortune?"
"I will tell you all about it presently, dear friend; but as
you have, in the first place, many things to tell me
yourself, let us have my recital in its proper order."
"Bravo!" said Porthos, "then we are both rich. But what can
I have to relate to you?"
"You have to relate to me how Aramis came to be named ---- "
"Ah! bishop of Vannes."
"That's it " said D'Artagnan, "bishop of Vannes. Dear
Aramis! do you know how he succeeded so well?"
"Yes, yes; without reckoning that he does not mean to stop
there."
"What! do you mean he will not be contented with violet
stockings, and that he wants a red hat?"
"Hush! that is promised him."
"Bah! by the king?"
"By somebody more powerful than the king."
"Ah! the devil! Porthos: what incredible things you tell me,
my friend!"
"Why incredible? Is there not always somebody in France more
powerful than the king?"
"Oh, yes; in the time of King Louis XIII. it was Cardinal
Richelieu; in the time of the Regency it was Cardinal
Mazarin. In the time of Louis XIV. it is M. ---- "
"Go on."
"It is M. Fouquet."
"Jove! you have hit it the first time."
"So, then, I suppose it is M. Fouquet who has promised
Aramis the red hat?"
Porthos assumed an air of reserve. "Dear friend," said he,
"God preserve me from meddling with the affairs of others,
above all from revealing secrets it may be to their interest
to keep. When you see Aramis, he will tell you all he thinks
he ought to tell you."
"You are right, Porthos; and you are quite a padlock for
safety. But, to revert to yourself?"
"Yes," said Porthos.
"You said just now you came hither to study topography?"
"I did so."
"Tudieu! my friend, what fine things you will do!"
"How do you mean?"
"Why, these fortifications are admirable."
"Is that your opinion?"
"Decidedly it is. In truth, to anything but a regular siege,
Belle-Isle is absolutely impregnable."
Porthos rubbed his hands. "That is my opinion," said he.
"But who the devil has fortified this paltry little place in
this manner?"
Porthos drew himself up proudly: "Did not I tell you who?"
"No."
"Do you not suspect?"
"No; all I can say is that he is a man who has studied all
the systems, and who appears to me to have stopped at the
best."
"Hush!" said Porthos; "consider my modesty, my dear
D'Artagnan."
"In truth," replied the musketeer, "can it be you -- who --
oh!"
"Pray -- my dear friend ---- "
"You who have imagined, traced, and combined between these
bastions, these redans, these curtains, these half-moons;
and are preparing that covered way?"
"I beg you ---- "
"You who have built that lunette with its retiring angles
and its salient angles?"
"My friend ---- "
"You who have given that inclination to the openings of your
embrasures, by means of which you so effectively protect the
men who serve the guns?"
"Eh! mon Dieu! yes."
"Oh! Porthos, Porthos! I must bow down before you -- I must
admire you! But you have always concealed from us this
superb, this incomparable genius. I hope, my dear friend,
you will show me all this in detail."
"Nothing more easy. Here lies my original sketch, my plan."
"Show it me." Porthos led D'Artagnan towards the stone that
served him for a table, and upon which the plan was spread.
At the foot of the plan was written, in the formidable
writing of Porthos, writing of which we have already had
occasion to speak: --
"Instead of making use of the square or rectangle, as has
been done to this time, you will suppose your place inclosed
in a regular hexagon, this polygon having the advantage of
offering more angles than the quadrilateral one. Every side
of your hexagon, of which you will determine the length in
proportion to the dimensions taken upon the place, will be
divided into two parts and upon the middle point you will
elevate a perpendicular towards the center of the polygon,
which will equal in length the sixth part of the side. By
the extremities of each side of the polygon, you will trace
two diagonals, which will cut the perpendicular. These will
form the precise lines of your defense."
"The devil!" said D'Artagnan, stopping at this point of the
demonstration; "why, this is a complete system, Porthos."
"Entirely," said Porthos. "Continue."
"No; I have read enough of it; but, since it is you, my dear
Porthos, who direct the works, what need have you of setting
down your system so formally in writing?"
"Oh! my dear friend, death!"
"How! death?"
"Why, we are all mortal, are we not?"
"That is true," said D'Artagnan; "you have a reply for
everything, my friend." And he replaced the plan upon the
stone.
But however short the time he had the plan in his hands,
D'Artagnan had been able to distinguish, under the enormous
writing of Porthos, a much more delicate hand, which
reminded him of certain letters to Marie Michon, with which
he had been acquainted in his youth. Only the India-rubber
had passed and repassed so often over this writing that it
might have escaped a less practiced eye than that of our
musketeer.
"Bravo! my friend, bravo!" said D'Artagnan.
"And now you know all that you want to know, do you not?"
said Porthos, wheeling about.
"Mordioux! yes, only do me one last favor, dear friend!"
"Speak, I am master here."
"Do me the pleasure to tell me the name of that gentleman
who is walking yonder."
"Where, there?"
"Behind the soldiers."
"Followed by a lackey?"
"Exactly."
"In company with a mean sort of a fellow, dressed in black?"
"Yes, I mean him."
"That is M. Getard."
"And who is Getard, my friend?"
"He is the architect of the house."
"Of what house?"
"Of M. Fouquet's house."
"Ah! ah!" cried D'Artagnan, "you are of the household of M.
Fouquet, then, Porthos?"
"I! what do you mean by that?" said the topographer,
blushing to the top of his ears.
"Why, you say the house, when speaking of Belle-Isle, as if
you were speaking of the chateau of Pierrefonds."
Porthos bit his lips. "Belle-Isle, my friend," said he,
"belongs to M. Fouquet, does it not?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"As Pierrefonds belongs to me?"
"I told you I believed so; there are no two words to that."
"Did you ever see a man there who is accustomed to walk
about with a ruler in his hand?"
"No; but I might have seen him there, if he really walked
there."
"Well, that gentleman is M. Boulingrin."
"Who is M. Boulingrin?"
"Now, we are coming to it. If, when this gentleman is
walking with a ruler in his hand, any one should ask me, --
`Who is M. Boulingrin?' I should reply: `He is the architect
of the house.' Well! M. Getard is the Boulingrin of M.
Fouquet. But he has nothing to do with the fortifications,
which are my department alone; do you understand? mine,
absolutely mine."
"Ah! Porthos," cried D'Artagnan, letting his arms fall as a
conquered man gives up his sword; "ah! my friend, you are
not only a herculean topographer, you are, still further, a
dialectician of the first water."
"Is it not powerfully reasoned?" said Porthos: and he puffed
and blew like the conger which D'Artagnan had let slip from
his hand.
"And now," said D'Artagnan, "that shabby-looking man, who
accompanies M. Getard, is he also of the household of M.
Fouquet?"
"Oh! yes," said Porthos, with contempt; "it is one M.
Jupenet, or Juponet, a sort of poet."
"Who is come to establish himself here?"
"I believe so."
"I thought M. Fouquet had poets enough, yonder -- Scudery,
Loret, Pellisson, La Fontaine? If I must tell you the truth,
Porthos, that poet disgraces you."
"Eh! -- my friend; but what saves us is that he is not here
as a poet."
"As what, then, is he?"
"As printer. And you make me remember, I have a word to say
to the cuistre."
"Say it, then."
Porthos made a sign to Jupenet, who perfectly recollected
D'Artagnan, and did not care to come nearer; which naturally
produced another sign from Porthos. This was so imperative,
he was obliged to obey. As he approached, "Come hither!"
said Porthos. "You only landed yesterday and you have begun
your tricks already."
"How so, monsieur le baron?" asked Jupenet, trembling.
"Your press was groaning all night, monsieur," said Porthos,
"and you prevented my sleeping, corne de boeuf!"
"Monsieur ---- " objected Jupenet, timidly.
"You have nothing yet to print: therefore you have no
occasion to set your press going. What did you print last
night?"
"Monsieur, a light poem of my own composition."
"Light! no, no, monsieur; the press groaned pitifully
beneath it. Let it not happen again. Do you understand?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"You promise me?"
"I do, monsieur!"
"Very well; this time I pardon you. Adieu!"
"Well, now we have combed that fellow's head, let us
breakfast."
"Yes," replied D'Artagnan, "let us breakfast."
"Only," said Porthos, "I beg you to observe, my friend, that
we have only two hours for our repast."
"What would you have? We will try to make two hours suffice.
But why have you only two hours?"
"Because it is high tide at one o'clock, and, with the tide,
I am going to Vannes. But, as I shall return tomorrow, my
dear friend, you can stay here; you shall be master, I have
a good cook and a good cellar."
"No," interrupted D'Artagnan, "better than that."
"What?"
"You are going to Vannes, you say?"
"To a certainty."
"To see Aramis?"
"Yes."
"Well! I came from Paris on purpose to see Aramis."
"That's true."
"I will go with you then."
"Do; that's the thing."
"Only, I ought to have seen Aramis first, and you after. But
man proposes, and God disposes. I have begun with you, and
will finish with Aramis."
"Very well!"
"And in how many hours can you go from here to Vannes?"
"Oh! pardieu! in six hours. Three hours by sea to Sarzeau,
three hours by road from Sarzeau to Vannes."
"How convenient that is! Being so near to the bishopric; do
you often go to Vannes?"
"Yes; once a week. But, stop till I get my plan."
Porthos picked up his plan, folded it carefully, and
engulfed it in his large pocket.
"Good!" said D'Artagnan aside; "I think I now know the real
engineer who is fortifying Belle-Isle."
Two hours after, at high tide, Porthos and D'Artagnan set
out for Sarzeau.
