Vingt ans après. English Page 12

  12. Porthos was Discontented with his Condition.

  As they returned toward the castle, D'Artagnan thought of the miseriesof poor human nature, always dissatisfied with what it has, everdesirous of what it has not.

  In the position of Porthos, D'Artagnan would have been perfectly happy;and to make Porthos contented there was wanting--what? five letters toput before his three names, a tiny coronet to paint upon the panels ofhis carriage!

  "I shall pass all my life," thought D'Artagnan, "in seeking for a manwho is really contented with his lot."

  Whilst making this reflection, chance seemed, as it were, to give himthe lie direct. When Porthos had left him to give some orders he sawMousqueton approaching. The face of the steward, despite one slightshade of care, light as a summer cloud, seemed a physiognomy of absolutefelicity.

  "Here is what I am looking for," thought D'Artagnan; "but alas! the poorfellow does not know the purpose for which I am here."

  He then made a sign for Mousqueton to come to him.

  "Sir," said the servant, "I have a favour to ask you."

  "Speak out, my friend."

  "I am afraid to do so. Perhaps you will think, sir, that prosperity hasspoiled me?"

  "Art thou happy, friend?" asked D'Artagnan.

  "As happy as possible; and yet, sir, you may make me even happier than Iam."

  "Well, speak, if it depends on me."

  "Oh, sir! it depends on you only."

  "I listen--I am waiting to hear."

  "Sir, the favor I have to ask of you is, not to call me 'Mousqueton' but'Mouston.' Since I have had the honor of being my lord's steward I havetaken the last name as more dignified and calculated to make myinferiors respect me. You, sir, know how necessary subordination is inany large establishment of servants."

  D'Artagnan smiled; Porthos wanted to lengthen out his names, Mousquetonto cut his short.

  "Well, my dear Mouston," he said, "rest satisfied. I will call theeMouston; and if it makes thee happy I will not 'tutoyer' you anylonger."

  "Oh!" cried Mousqueton, reddening with joy; "if you do me, sir, suchhonor, I shall be grateful all my life; it is too much to ask."

  "Alas!" thought D'Artagnan, "it is very little to offset the unexpectedtribulations I am bringing to this poor devil who has so warmly welcomedme."

  "Will monsieur remain long with us?" asked Mousqueton, with a serene andglowing countenance.

  "I go to-morrow, my friend," replied D'Artagnan.

  "Ah, monsieur," said Mousqueton, "then you have come here only to awakenour regrets."

  "I fear that is true," said D'Artagnan, in a low tone.

  D'Artagnan was secretly touched with remorse, not at inducing Porthos toenter into schemes in which his life and fortune would be in jeopardy,for Porthos, in the title of baron, had his object and reward; but poorMousqueton, whose only wish was to be called Mouston--was it not cruelto snatch him from the delightful state of peace and plenty in which hewas?

  He was thinking of these matters when Porthos summoned him to dinner.

  "What! to dinner?" said D'Artagnan. "What time is it, then?"

  "Eh! why, it is after one o'clock."

  "Your home is a paradise, Porthos; one takes no note of time. I followyou, though I am not hungry."

  "Come, if one can't always eat, one can always drink--a maxim of poorAthos, the truth of which I have discovered since I began to be lonely."

  D'Artagnan, who as a Gascon, was inclined to sobriety, seemed not sosure as his friend of the truth of Athos's maxim, but he did his best tokeep up with his host. Meanwhile his misgivings in regard to Mousquetonrecurred to his mind and with greater force because Mousqueton, thoughhe did not himself wait on the table, which would have been beneath himin his new position, appeared at the door from time to time and evincedhis gratitude to D'Artagnan by the quality of the wine he directed to beserved. Therefore, when, at dessert, upon a sign from D'Artagnan,Porthos had sent away his servants and the two friends were alone:

  "Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "who will attend you in your campaigns?"

  "Why," replied Porthos, "Mouston, of course."

  This was a blow to D'Artagnan. He could already see the intendant'sbeaming smile change to a contortion of grief. "But," he said, "Moustonis not so young as he was, my dear fellow; besides, he has grown fat andperhaps has lost his fitness for active service."

  "That may be true," replied Porthos; "but I am used to him, and besides,he wouldn't be willing to let me go without him, he loves me so much."

  "Oh, blind self-love!" thought D'Artagnan.

  "And you," asked Porthos, "haven't you still in your service your oldlackey, that good, that brave, that intelligent---what, then, is hisname?"

  "Planchet--yes, I have found him again, but he is lackey no longer."

  "What is he, then?"

  "With his sixteen hundred francs--you remember, the sixteen hundredfrancs he earned at the siege of La Rochelle by carrying a letter toLord de Winter--he has set up a little shop in the Rue des Lombards andis now a confectioner."

  "Ah, he is a confectioner in the Rue des Lombards! How does it happen,then, that he is in your service?"

  "He has been guilty of certain escapades and fears he may be disturbed."And the musketeer narrated to his friend Planchet's adventure.

  "Well," said Porthos, "if any one had told you in the old times that theday would come when Planchet would rescue Rochefort and that you wouldprotect him in it----"

  "I should not have believed him; but men are changed by events."

  "There is nothing truer than that," said Porthos; "but what does notchange, or changes for the better, is wine. Taste of this; it is aSpanish wine which our friend Athos thought much of."

  At that moment the steward came in to consult his master upon theproceedings of the next day and also with regard to the shooting partywhich had been proposed.

  "Tell me, Mouston," said Porthos, "are my arms in good condition?"

  "Your arms, my lord--what arms?"

  "Zounds! my weapons."

  "What weapons?"

  "My military weapons."

  "Yes, my lord; at any rate, I think so."

  "Make sure of it, and if they want it, have them burnished up. Which ismy best cavalry horse?"

  "Vulcan."

  "And the best hack?"

  "Bayard."

  "What horse dost thou choose for thyself?"

  "I like Rustaud, my lord; a good animal, whose paces suit me."

  "Strong, thinkest thou?"

  "Half Norman, half Mecklenburger; will go night and day."

  "That will do for us. See to these horses. Polish up or make some oneelse polish my arms. Then take pistols with thee and a hunting-knife."

  "Are we then going to travel, my lord?" asked Mousqueton, rather uneasy.

  "Something better still, Mouston."

  "An expedition, sir?" asked the steward, whose roses began to changeinto lilies.

  "We are going to return to the service, Mouston," replied Porthos, stilltrying to restore his mustache to the military curl it had long lost.

  "Into the service--the king's service?" Mousqueton trembled; even hisfat, smooth cheeks shook as he spoke, and he looked at D'Artagnan withan air of reproach; he staggered, and his voice was almost choked.

  "Yes and no. We shall serve in a campaign, seek out all sorts ofadventures--return, in short, to our former life."

  These last words fell on Mousqueton like a thunderbolt. It was thosevery terrible old days that made the present so excessively delightful,and the blow was so great he rushed out, overcome, and forgot to shutthe door.

  The two friends remained alone to speak of the future and to buildcastles in the air. The good wine which Mousqueton had placed beforethem traced out in glowing drops to D'Artagnan a fine perspective,shining with quadruples and pistoles, and showed to Porthos a blueribbon and a ducal mantle; they were, in fact, asleep on the table whenthe servants came to light them to their bed.

  Mousquet
on was, however, somewhat consoled by D'Artagnan, who the nextday told him that in all probability war would always be carried on inthe heart of Paris and within reach of the Chateau du Vallon, which wasnear Corbeil, or Bracieux, which was near Melun, and of Pierrefonds,which was between Compiegne and Villars-Cotterets.

  "But--formerly--it appears," began Mousqueton timidly.

  "Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "we don't now make war as we did formerly. To-dayit's a sort of diplomatic arrangement; ask Planchet."

  Mousqueton inquired, therefore, the state of the case of his old friend,who confirmed the statement of D'Artagnan. "But," he added, "in this warprisoners stand a chance of being hung."

  "The deuce they do!" said Mousqueton; "I think I should like the siegeof Rochelle better than this war, then!"

  Porthos, meantime, asked D'Artagnan to give him his instructions how toproceed on his journey.

  "Four days," replied his friend, "are necessary to reach Blois; one dayto rest there; three or four days to return to Paris. Set out,therefore, in a week, with your suite, and go to the Hotel de laChevrette, Rue Tiquetonne, and there await me."

  "That's agreed," said Porthos.

  "As to myself, I shall go around to see Athos; for though I don't thinkhis aid worth much, one must with one's friends observe all duepoliteness," said D'Artagnan.

  The friends then took leave of each other on the very border of theestate of Pierrefonds, to which Porthos escorted his friend.

  "At least," D'Artagnan said to himself, as he took the road toVillars-Cotterets, "at least I shall not be alone in my undertaking.That devil, Porthos, is a man of prodigious strength; still, if Athosjoins us, well, we shall be three of us to laugh at Aramis, that littlecoxcomb with his too good luck."

  At Villars-Cotterets he wrote to the cardinal:

  "My Lord,--I have already one man to offer to your eminence, and he iswell worth twenty men. I am just setting out for Blois. The Comte de laFere inhabits the Castle of Bragelonne, in the environs of that city."