Vingt ans après. English Read online

  10. Monsieur Porthos du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.

  Thanks to what Aramis had told him, D'Artagnan, who knew already thatPorthos called himself Du Vallon, was now aware that he styled himself,from his estate, De Bracieux; and that he was, on account of thisestate, engaged in a lawsuit with the Bishop of Noyon. It was, then, inthe neighborhood of Noyon that he must seek that estate. His itinerarywas promptly determined: he would go to Dammartin, from which place tworoads diverge, one toward Soissons, the other toward Compiegne; there hewould inquire concerning the Bracieux estate and go to the right or tothe left according to the information obtained.

  Planchet, who was still a little concerned for his safety after hisrecent escapade, declared that he would follow D'Artagnan even to theend of the world, either by the road to the right or by that to theleft; only he begged his former master to set out in the evening, forgreater security to himself. D'Artagnan suggested that he should sendword to his wife, so that she might not be anxious about him, butPlanchet replied with much sagacity that he was very sure his wife wouldnot die of anxiety through not knowing where he was, while he, Planchet,remembering her incontinence of tongue, would die of anxiety if she didknow.

  This reasoning seemed to D'Artagnan so satisfactory that he no furtherinsisted; and about eight o'clock in the evening, the time when thevapors of night begin to thicken in the streets, he left the Hotel de laChevrette, and followed by Planchet set forth from the capital by way ofthe Saint Denis gate.

  At midnight the two travelers were at Dammartin, but it was then toolate to make inquiries--the host of the Cygne de la Croix had gone tobed.

  The next morning D'Artagnan summoned the host, one of those sly Normanswho say neither yes nor no and fear to commit themselves by giving adirect answer. D'Artagnan, however, gathered from his equivocal repliesthat the road to the right was the one he ought to take, and on thatuncertain information he resumed his journey. At nine in the morning hereached Nanteuil and stopped for breakfast. His host here was a goodfellow from Picardy, who gave him all the information he needed. TheBracieux estate was a few leagues from Villars-Cotterets.

  D'Artagnan was acquainted with Villars-Cotterets, having gone thitherwith the court on several occasions; for at that time Villars-Cotteretswas a royal residence. He therefore shaped his course toward that placeand dismounted at the Dauphin d'Or. There he ascertained that theBracieux estate was four leagues distant, but that Porthos was not atBracieux. Porthos had, in fact, been involved in a dispute with theBishop of Noyon in regard to the Pierrefonds property, which adjoinedhis own, and weary at length of a legal controversy which was beyond hiscomprehension, he put an end to it by purchasing Pierrefonds and addedthat name to his others. He now called himself Du Vallon de Bracieux dePierrefonds, and resided on his new estate.

  The travelers were therefore obliged to stay at the hotel until the nextday; the horses had done ten leagues that day and needed rest. It istrue they might have taken others, but there was a great forest to passthrough and Planchet, as we have seen, had no liking for forests afterdark.

  There was another thing that Planchet had no liking for and that wasstarting on a journey with a hungry stomach. Accordingly, D'Artagnan, onawaking, found his breakfast waiting for him. It need not be said thatPlanchet in resuming his former functions resumed also his formerhumility and was not ashamed to make his breakfast on what was left byD'Artagnan.

  It was nearly eight o'clock when they set out again. Their course wasclearly defined: they were to follow the road toward Compiegne and onemerging from the forest turn to the right.

  The morning was beautiful, and in this early springtime the birds sangon the trees and the sunbeams shone through the misty glades, likecurtains of golden gauze.

  In other parts of the forest the light could scarcely penetrate throughthe foliage, and the stems of two old oak trees, the refuge of thesquirrel, startled by the travelers, were in deep shadow.

  There came up from all nature in the dawn of day a perfume of herbs,flowers and leaves, which delighted the heart. D'Artagnan, sick of thecloseness of Paris, thought that when a man had three names of hisdifferent estates joined one to another, he ought to be very happy insuch a paradise; then he shook his head, saying, "If I were Porthos andD'Artagnan came to make me such a proposition as I am going to make tohim, I know what I should say to it."

  As to Planchet, he thought of little or nothing, but was happy as ahunting-hound in his old master's company.

  At the extremity of the wood D'Artagnan perceived the road that had beendescribed to him, and at the end of the road he saw the towers of animmense feudal castle.

  "Oh! oh!" he said, "I fancied this castle belonged to the ancient branchof Orleans. Can Porthos have negotiated for it with the Duc deLongueville?"

  "Faith!" exclaimed Planchet, "here's land in good condition; if itbelongs to Monsieur Porthos I wish him joy."

  "Zounds!" cried D'Artagnan, "don't call him Porthos, nor even Vallon;call him De Bracieux or De Pierrefonds; thou wilt knell out damnation tomy mission otherwise."

  As he approached the castle which had first attracted his eye,D'Artagnan was convinced that it could not be there that his frienddwelt; the towers, though solid and as if built yesterday, were open andbroken. One might have fancied that some giant had cleaved them withblows from a hatchet.

  On arriving at the extremity of the castle D'Artagnan found himselfoverlooking a beautiful valley, in which, at the foot of a charminglittle lake, stood several scattered houses, which, humble in theiraspect, and covered, some with tiles, others with thatch, seemed toacknowledge as their sovereign lord a pretty chateau, built about thebeginning of the reign of Henry IV., and surmounted by four stately,gilded weather-cocks. D'Artagnan no longer doubted that this wasPorthos's pleasant dwelling place.

  The road led straight up to the chateau which, compared to its ancestoron the hill, was exactly what a fop of the coterie of the Duc d'Engheinwould have been beside a knight in steel armor in the time of CharlesVII. D'Artagnan spurred his horse on and pursued his road, followed byPlanchet at the same pace.

  In ten minutes D'Artagnan reached the end of an alley regularly plantedwith fine poplars and terminating in an iron gate, the points andcrossed bars of which were gilt. In the midst of this avenue was anobleman, dressed in green and with as much gilding about him as theiron gate, riding on a tall horse. On his right hand and his left weretwo footmen, with the seams of their dresses laced. A considerablenumber of clowns were assembled and rendered homage to their lord.

  "Ah!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "can this be the Seigneur du Vallon deBracieux de Pierrefonds? Well-a-day! how he has shrunk since he gave upthe name of Porthos!"

  "This cannot be Monsieur Porthos," observed Planchet replying, as itwere, to his master's thoughts. "Monsieur Porthos was six feet high;this man is scarcely five."

  "Nevertheless," said D'Artagnan, "the people are bowing very low to thisperson."

  As he spoke, he rode toward the tall horse--to the man of importance andhis valets. As he approached he seemed to recognize the features of thisindividual.

  "Jesu!" cried Planchet, "can it be?"

  At this exclamation the man on horseback turned slowly and with a loftyair, and the two travelers could see, displayed in all their brilliancy,the large eyes, the vermilion visage, and the eloquent smileof--Mousqueton.

  It was indeed Mousqueton--Mousqueton, as fat as a pig, rolling aboutwith rude health, puffed out with good living, who, recognizingD'Artagnan and acting very differently from the hypocrite Bazin, slippedoff his horse and approached the officer with his hat off, so that thehomage of the assembled crowd was turned toward this new sun, whicheclipsed the former luminary.

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan! Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried Mousqueton, his fatcheeks swelling out and his whole frame perspiring with joy; "Monsieurd'Artagnan! oh! what joy for my lord and master, Du Vallon de Bracieuxde Pierrefonds!"

  "Thou good Mousqueton! where is thy master?"

  "Y
ou stand upon his property!"

  "But how handsome thou art--how fat! thou hast prospered and grownstout!" and D'Artagnan could not restrain his astonishment at the changegood fortune had produced on the once famished one.

  "Hey, yes, thank God, I am pretty well," said Mousqueton.

  "But hast thou nothing to say to thy friend Planchet?"

  "How, my friend Planchet? Planchet--art thou there?" cried Mousqueton,with open arms and eyes full of tears.

  "My very self," replied Planchet; "but I wanted first to see if thouwert grown proud."

  "Proud toward an old friend? never, Planchet! thou wouldst not havethought so hadst thou known Mousqueton well."

  "So far so well," answered Planchet, alighting, and extending his armsto Mousqueton, the two servants embraced with an emotion which touchedthose who were present and made them suppose that Planchet was a greatlord in disguise, so highly did they estimate the position ofMousqueton.

  "And now, sir," resumed Mousqueton, when he had rid himself of Planchet,who had in vain tried to clasp his hands behind his friend's fat back,"now, sir, allow me to leave you, for I could not permit my master tohear of your arrival from any but myself; he would never forgive me fornot having preceded you."

  "This dear friend," said D'Artagnan, carefully avoiding to utter eitherthe former name borne by Porthos or his new one, "then he has notforgotten me?"

  "Forgotten--he!" cried Mousqueton; "there's not a day, sir, that wedon't expect to hear that you were made marshal either instead ofMonsieur de Gassion, or of Monsieur de Bassompierre."

  On D'Artagnan's lips there played one of those rare and melancholysmiles which seemed to emanate from the depth of his soul--the lasttrace of youth and happiness that had survived life's disillusions.

  "And you--fellows," resumed Mousqueton, "stay near Monsieur le Comted'Artagnan and pay him every attention in your power whilst I go toprepare my lord for his visit."

  And mounting his horse Mousqueton rode off down the avenue on the grassat a hand gallop.

  "Ah, there! there's something promising," said D'Artagnan. "Nomysteries, no cloak to hide one's self in, no cunning policy here;people laugh outright, they weep for joy here. I see nothing but faces ayard broad; in short, it seems to me that nature herself wears a holidaygarb, and that the trees, instead of leaves and flowers, are coveredwith red and green ribbons as on gala days."

  "As for me," said Planchet, "I seem to smell, from this place, even, amost delectable perfume of fine roast meat, and to see the scullions ina row by the hedge, hailing our approach. Ah! sir, what a cook mustMonsieur Pierrefonds have, when he was so fond of eating and drinking,even whilst he was only called Monsieur Porthos!"

  "Say no more!" cried D'Artagnan. "If the reality corresponds withappearances I am lost; for a man so well off will never change his happycondition, and I shall fail with him, as I have already done withAramis."