CHAPTER 74
In which D'Artagnan makes all Speed,
Porthos snores, and Aramis counsels
From thirty to thirty-five hours after the events we have
just related, as M. Fouquet, according to his custom, having
interdicted his door, was working in the cabinet of his
house at Saint-Mande, with which we are already acquainted,
a carriage, drawn by four horses steaming with sweat,
entered the court at full gallop. This carriage was,
probably, expected, for three or four lackeys hastened to
the door, which they opened. Whilst M. Fouquet rose from his
bureau and ran to the window, a man got painfully out of the
carriage descending with difficulty the three steps of the
door, leaning upon the shoulders of the lackeys. He had
scarcely uttered his name, when the valet upon whom he was
not leaning sprang up the perron, and disappeared in the
vestibule. This man went to inform his master; but he had no
occasion to knock at the door: Fouquet was standing on the
threshold.
"Monseigneur, the Bishop of Vannes," said he.
"Very well!" replied his master.
Then, leaning over the banister of the staircase, of which
Aramis was beginning to ascend the first steps, --
"Ah, dear friend!" said he, "you, so soon!"
"Yes; I, myself, monsieur! but bruised, battered, as you
see."
"Oh! my poor friend," said Fouquet, presenting him his arm,
on which Aramis leant, whilst the servants drew back
respectfully.
"Bah!" replied Aramis, "it is nothing, since I am here; the
principal thing was that I should get here, and here I am."
"Speak quickly," said Fouquet, closing the door of the
cabinet behind Aramis and himself.
"Are we alone?"
"Yes, perfectly."
"No one observes us? -- no one can hear us?"
"Be satisfied; nobody."
"Is M. du Vallon arrived?"
"Yes."
"And you have received my letter?"
"Yes. The affair is serious, apparently, since it
necessitates your attendance in Paris, at a moment when your
presence was so urgent elsewhere."
"You are right, it could not be more serious."
"Thank you! thank you! What is it about? But, for God's
sake! before anything else, take time to breathe, dear
friend. You are so pale, you frighten me."
"I am really in great pain. But, for Heaven's sake, think
nothing about me. Did M. du Vallon tell you nothing, when he
delivered the letter to you?"
"No; I heard a great noise; I went to the window; I saw at
the foot of the perron, a sort of horseman of marble; I went
down, he held the letter out to me, and his horse fell down
dead."
"But he?"
"He fell with the horse; he was lifted, and carried to an
apartment. Having read the letter, I went up to him, in
hopes of obtaining more ample information; but he was
asleep, and, after such a fashion, that it was impossible to
wake him. I took pity on him; I gave orders that his boots
should be cut from off his legs, and that he should be left
quite undisturbed."
"So far well; now, this is the question in hand,
monseigneur. You have seen M. d'Artagnan in Paris, have you
not?"
"Certes, and think him a man of intelligence, and even a man
of heart; although he did bring about the death of our dear
friends, Lyodot and D'Eymeris."
"Alas! yes, I heard of that. At Tours I met the courier who
was bringing me the letter from Gourville, and the
dispatches from Pellisson. Have you seriously reflected on
that event, monsieur?"
"Yes."
"And in it you perceived a direct attack upon your
sovereignty?"
"And do you believe it to be so?"
"Oh, yes, I think so."
"Well, I must confess, that sad idea occurred to me
likewise."
"Do not blind yourself, monsieur, in the name of Heaven!
Listen attentively to me, -- I return to D'Artagnan."
"I am all attention."
"Under what circumstances did you see him?"
"He came here for money."
"With what kind of order?"
"With an order from the king."
"Direct?"
"Signed by his majesty."
"There, then! Well, D'Artagnan has been to Belle-Isle; he
was disguised; he came in the character of some sort of an
intendant, charged by his master to purchase salt-mines.
Now, D'Artagnan has no other master but the king: he came,
then, sent by the king. He saw Porthos."
"Who is Porthos?"
"I beg your pardon, I made a mistake. He saw M. du Vallon at
Belle-Isle; and he knows, as well as you and I do, that
Belle-Isle is fortified."
"And you think that the king sent him there?" said Fouquet,
pensively.
"I certainly do."
"And D'Artagnan, in the hands of the king, is a dangerous
instrument?"
"The most dangerous imaginable."
"Then I formed a correct opinion of him at the first
glance."
"How so?"
"I wished to attach him to myself."
"If you judged him to be the bravest, the most acute, and
the most adroit man in France, you judged correctly."
"He must be had then, at any price."
"D'Artagnan?"
"Is not that your opinion?"
"It may be my opinion, but you will never get him."
"Why?"
"Because we have allowed the time to go by. He was
dissatisfied with the court, we should have profited by
that; since that, he has passed into England; there he
powerfully assisted in the restoration, there he gained a
fortune, and, after all, he returned to the service of the
king. Well, if he has returned to the service of the king,
it is because he is well paid in that service."
"We will pay him even better, that is all."
"Oh! monsieur, excuse me; D'Artagnan has a high respect for
his word, and where that is once engaged he keeps it."
"What do you conclude, then?" said Fouquet, with great
inquietude.
"At present, the principal thing is to parry a dangerous
blow."
"And how is it to be parried?"
"Listen."
"But D'Artagnan will come and render an account to the king
of his mission."
"Oh, we have time enough to think about that."
"How so? You are much in advance of him, I presume?"
"Nearly ten hours."
"Well, in ten hours ---- "
Aramis shook his pale head. "Look at these clouds which flit
across the heavens; at these swallows which cut the air.
D'Artagnan moves more quickly than the clouds or the birds;
D'Artagnan is the wind which carries them."
"A strange man!"
"I tell you, he is superhuman, monsieur. He is of my own
age, and I have known him these five-and-thirty years."
"Well?"
"Well, listen to my calculation, monsieur. I sent M. du
Vallon off to you two hours after midnight. M. du Vallon was
eight hours in advance of me, when did M. du Vallon arrive?"
"About four hours ago."
"You see, then, that I gained four upon him; and yet Porthos
is a staunch horseman, and he has left on the road eight
dead horses, whose bodies I came to successively. I rode
post fifty leagues; but I have the gout, the gravel, and
what else I know not; so that fatigue kills me. I was
obliged to dismount at Tours; since that, rolling along in a
carriage, half dead, sometimes overturned, drawn upon the
sides, and sometimes on the back of the carriage, always
with four spirited horses at full gallop, I have arrived --
arrived, gaining four hours upon Porthos; but, see you,
D'Artagnan does not weigh three hundred-weight, as Porthos
does; D'Artagnan has not the gout and gravel, as I have; he
is not a horseman, he is a centaur. D'Artagnan, look you,
set out for Belle-Isle when I set out for Paris; and
D'Artagnan, notwithstanding my ten hours, advance,
D'Artagnan will arrive within two hours after me."
"But, then, accidents?"
"He never meets with accidents."
"Horses may fail him."
"He will run as fast as a horse."
"Good God! what a man!"
"Yes, he is a man whom I love and admire. I love him because
he is good, great, and loyal; I admire him because he
represents in my eyes the culminating point of human power;
but, whilst loving and admiring him, I fear him, and am on
my guard against him. Now then, I resume, monsieur; in two
hours D'Artagnan will be here; be beforehand with him. Go to
the Louvre, and see the king, before he sees D'Artagnan."
"What shall I say to the king?"
"Nothing; give him Belle-Isle."
"Oh! Monsieur d'Herblay! Monsieur d'Herblay," cried Fouquet,
"what projects crushed all at once!"
"After one project that has failed, there is always another
project that may lead to fortune; we should never despair.
Go, monsieur, and go at once."
"But that garrison, so carefully chosen, the king will
change it directly."
"That garrison, monsieur, was the king's when it entered
Belle-Isle; it is yours now; it is the same with all
garrisons after a fortnight's occupation. Let things go on,
monsieur. Do you see any inconvenience in having an army at
the end of a year, instead of two regiments? Do you not see
that your garrison of today will make you partisans at La
Rochelle, Nantes, Bordeaux, Toulouse -- in short, wherever
they may be sent to? Go to the king, monsieur; go; time
flies, and D'Artagnan, while we are losing time, is flying,
like an arrow, along the high-road."
"Monsieur d'Herblay, you know that each word from you is a
germ which fructifies in my thoughts. I will go to the
Louvre."
"Instantly, will you not?"
"I only ask time to change my dress."
"Remember that D'Artagnan has no need to pass through
Saint-Mande; but will go straight to the Louvre; that is
cutting off an hour from the advantage that yet remains to
us."
"D'Artagnan may have everything except my English horses. I
shall be at the Louvre in twenty-five minutes." And, without
losing a second, Fouquet gave orders for his departure.
Aramis had only time to say to him, "Return as quickly as
you go; for I shall await you impatiently."
Five minutes after, the superintendent was flying along the
road to Paris. During this time Aramis desired to be shown
the chamber in which Porthos was sleeping. At the door of
Fouquet's cabinet he was folded in the arms of Pellisson,
who had just heard of his arrival, and had left his office
to see him. Aramis received, with that friendly dignity
which he knew so well how to assume, these caresses,
respectful as earnest; but all at once stopping on the
landing-place, "What is that I hear up yonder?"
There was, in fact, a hoarse, growling kind of noise, like
the roar of a hungry tiger, or an impatient lion. "Oh, that
is nothing," said Pellisson, smiling.
"Well; but ---- "
"It is M. du Vallon snoring."
"Ah! true," said Aramis. "I had forgotten. No one but he is
capable of making such a noise. Allow me, Pellisson, to
inquire if he wants anything."
"And you will permit me to accompany you?"
"Oh, certainly;" and both entered the chamber. Porthos was
stretched upon the bed; his face was violet rather than red;
his eyes were swelled; his mouth was wide open. The roaring
which escaped from the deep cavities of his chest made the
glass of the windows vibrate. To those developed and clearly
defined muscles starting from his face, to his hair matted
with sweat, to the energetic heaving of his chin and
shoulders, it was impossible to refuse a certain degree of
admiration. Strength carried to this point is semi-divine.
The Herculean legs and feet of Porthos had, by swelling,
burst his stockings; all the strength of his huge body was
converted into the rigidity of stone. Porthos moved no more
than does the giant of granite which reclines upon the
plains of Agrigentum. According to Pellisson's orders, his
boots had been cut off, for no human power could have pulled
them off. Four lackeys had tried in vain, pulling at them as
they would have pulled capstans; and yet all this did not
awaken him. They had hacked off his boots in fragments, and
his legs had fallen back upon the bed. They then cut off the
rest of his clothes, carried him to a bath, in which they
let him soak a considerable time. They then put on him clean
linen, and placed him in a well-warmed bed -- the whole with
efforts and pains which might have roused a dead man, but
which did not make Porthos open an eye, or interrupt for a
second the formidable diapason of his snoring. Aramis wished
on his part, with his nervous nature, armed with
extraordinary courage, to outbrave fatigue, and employ
himself with Gourville and Pellisson, but he fainted in the
chair in which he had persisted sitting. He was carried into
the adjoining room, where the repose of bed soon soothed his
failing brain.
