Twenty years after
they went on foot to the Rue Guénégaud.
But Raoul was not at the Hôtel du Grand Charlemagne. He had received a
message from the prince, to whom he had hastened with Olivain the
instant he had received it.
Chapter LXXVII.
The three Lieutenants of the Generalissimo.
The night was dark, but still the town resounded with those noises that
disclose a city in a state of siege. Athos and Aramis did not proceed a
hundred steps without being stopped by sentinels placed before the
barricades, who demanded the watchword; and on their saying that they
were going to Monsieur de Bouillon on a mission of importance a guide
was given them under pretext of conducting them, but in fact as a spy
over their movements.
On arriving at the Hôtel de Bouillon they came across a little troop of
three cavaliers, who seemed to know every possible password; for they
walked without either guide or escort, and on arriving at the
barricades had nothing to do but to speak to those who guarded them,
who instantly let them pass with evident deference, due probably to
their high birth.
On seeing them Athos and Aramis stood still.
“Oh!” cried Aramis, “do you see, count?”
“Yes,” said Athos.
“Who do these three cavaliers appear to you to be?”
“What do you think, Aramis?”
“Why, they are our men.”
“You are not mistaken; I recognize Monsieur de Flamarens.”
“And I, Monsieur de Châtillon.”
“As to the cavalier in the brown cloak——”
“It is the cardinal.”
“In person.”
“How the devil do they venture so near the Hôtel de Bouillon?”
Athos smiled, but did not reply. Five minutes afterward they knocked at
the prince’s door.
This door was guarded by a sentinel and there was also a guard placed
in the courtyard, ready to obey the orders of the Prince de Conti’s
lieutenant.
Monsieur de Bouillon had the gout, but notwithstanding his illness,
which had prevented his mounting on horseback for the last month—-that
is, since Paris had been besieged—he was ready to receive the Comte de
la Fère and the Chevalier d’Herblay.
He was in bed, but surrounded with all the paraphernalia of war.
Everywhere were swords, pistols, cuirasses, and arquebuses, and it was
plain that as soon as his gout was better Monsieur de Bouillon would
give a pretty tangle to the enemies of the parliament to unravel.
Meanwhile, to his great regret, as he said, he was obliged to keep his
bed.
“Ah, gentlemen,” he cried, as the two friends entered, “you are very
happy! you can ride, you can go and come and fight for the cause of the
people. But I, as you see, am nailed to my bed—ah! this demon,
gout—this demon, gout!”
“My lord,” said Athos, “we are just arrived from England and our first
concern is to inquire after your health.”
“Thanks, gentlemen, thanks! As you see, my health is but indifferent.
But you come from England. And King Charles is well, as I have just
heard?”
“He is dead, my lord!” said Aramis.
“Pooh!” said the duke, too much astonished to believe it true.
“Dead on the scaffold; condemned by parliament.”
“Impossible!”
“And executed in our presence.”
“What, then, has Monsieur de Flamarens been telling me?”
“Monsieur de Flamarens?”
“Yes, he has just gone out.”
Athos smiled. “With two companions?” he said.
“With two companions, yes,” replied the duke. Then he added with a
certain uneasiness, “Did you meet them?”
“Why, yes, I think so—in the street,” said Athos; and he looked
smilingly at Aramis, who looked at him with an expression of surprise.
“The devil take this gout!” cried Monsieur de Bouillon, evidently ill
at ease.
“My lord,” said Athos, “we admire your devotion to the cause you have
espoused, in remaining at the head of the army whilst so ill, in so
much pain.”
“One must,” replied Monsieur de Bouillon, “sacrifice one’s comfort to
the public good; but I confess to you I am now almost exhausted. My
spirit is willing, my head is clear, but this demon, the gout,
o’ercrows me. I confess, if the court would do justice to my claims and
give the head of my house the title of prince, and if my brother De
Turenne were reinstated in his command I would return to my estates and
leave the court and parliament to settle things between themselves as
they might.”
“You are perfectly right, my lord.”
“You think so? At this very moment the court is making overtures to me;
hitherto I have repulsed them; but since such men as you assure me that
I am wrong in doing so, I’ve a good mind to follow your advice and to
accept a proposition made to me by the Duc de Châtillon just now.”
“Accept it, my lord, accept it,” said Aramis.
“Faith! yes. I am even sorry that this evening I almost repulsed—but
there will be a conference to-morrow and we shall see.”
The two friends saluted the duke.
“Go, gentlemen,” he said; “you must be much fatigued after your voyage.
Poor King Charles! But, after all, he was somewhat to blame in all that
business and we may console ourselves with the reflection that France
has no cause of reproach in the matter and did all she could to serve
him.”
“Oh! as to that,” said Aramis, “we are witnesses. Mazarin especially——”
“Yes, do you know, I am very glad to hear you give that testimony; the
cardinal has some good in him, and if he were not a foreigner—well, he
would be more justly estimated. Oh! the devil take this gout!”
Athos and Aramis took their leave, but even in the ante-chamber they
could still hear the duke’s cries; he was evidently suffering the
tortures of the damned.
When they reached the street, Aramis said:
“Well, Athos, what do you think?”
“Of whom?”
“_Pardieu!_ of Monsieur de Bouillon.”
“My friend, I think that he is much troubled with gout.”
“You noticed that I didn’t breathe a word as to the purpose of our
visit?”
“You did well; you would have caused him an access of his disease. Let
us go to Monsieur de Beaufort.”
The two friends went to the Hôtel de Vendôme. It was ten o’clock when
they arrived. The Hôtel de Vendôme was not less guarded than the Hôtel
de Bouillon, and presented as warlike an appearance. There were
sentinels, a guard in the court, stacks of arms, and horses saddled.
Two horsemen going out as Athos and Aramis entered were obliged to give
place to them.
“Ah! ah! gentlemen,” said Aramis, “decidedly it is a night for
meetings. We shall be very unfortunate if, after meeting so often this
evening, we should not succeed in meeting to-morrow.”
“Oh, as to that, sir,” replied Châtillon (for it was he who, with
Flamarens, was leaving the Duc de Beaufort), “you may be assured; for
if we meet by night without seeking each other, much more shall we meet
by day when wishing it.”
“I hope that is true,” said Aramis.
“As for me, I am sure of it,” said the duke.
De Flamarens and De Châtillon continued on their way and Athos and
Aramis dismounted.
Hardly had they given the bridles of their horses to their lackeys and
rid themselves of their cloaks when a man approached them, and after
looking at them for an instant by the doubtful light of the lantern
hung in the centre of the courtyard he uttered an exclamation of joy
and ran to embrace them.
“Comte de la Fère!” the man cried out; “Chevalier d’Herblay! How does
it happen that you are in Paris?”
“Rochefort!” cried the two friends.
“Yes! we arrived four or five days ago from the Vendomois, as you know,
and we are going to give Mazarin something to do. You are still with
us, I presume?”
“More than ever. And the duke?”
“Furious against the cardinal. You know his success—our dear duke? He
is really king of Paris; he can’t go out without being mobbed by his
admirers.”
“Ah! so much the better! Can we have the honor of seeing his highness?”
“I shall be proud to present you,” and Rochefort walked on. Every door
was opened to him. Monsieur de Beaufort was at supper, but he rose
quickly on hearing the two friends announced.
“Ah!” he cried, “by Jove! you’re welcome, sirs. You are coming to sup
with me, are you not? Boisgoli, tell Noirmont that I have two guests.
You know Noirmont, do you not? The successor of Father Marteau who
makes the excellent pies you know of. Boisgoli, let him send one of his
best, but not such a one as he made for La Ramee. Thank God! we don’t
want either rope ladders or gag-pears _now_.”
“My lord,” said Athos, “do not let us disturb you. We came merely to
inquire after your health and to take your orders.”
“As to my health, since it has stood five years of prison, with
Monsieur de Chavigny to boot, ’tis excellent! As to my orders, since
every one gives his own commands in our party, I shall end, if this
goes on, by giving none at all.”
“In short, my lord,” said Athos, glancing at Aramis, “your highness is
discontented with your party?”
“Discontented, sir! say my highness is furious! To such a degree, I
assure you, though I would not say so to others, that if the queen,
acknowledging the injuries she has done me, would recall my mother and
give me the reversion of the admiralty, which belonged to my father and
was promised me at his death, well! it would not be long before I
should be training dogs to say that there were greater traitors in
France than the Cardinal Mazarin!”
At this Athos and Aramis could not help exchanging not only a look but
a smile; and had they not known it for a fact, this would have told
them that De Châtillon and De Flamarens had been there.
“My lord,” said Athos, “we are satisfied; we came here only to express
our loyalty and to say that we are at your lordship’s service and his
most faithful servants.”
“My most faithful friends, gentlemen, my most faithful friends; you
have proved it. And if ever I am reconciled with the court I shall
prove to you, I hope, that I remain your friend, as well as that
of—what the devil are their names—D’Artagnan and Porthos?”
“D’Artagnan and Porthos.”
“Ah, yes. You understand, then, Comte de la Fère, you understand,
Chevalier d’Herblay, that I am altogether and always at your service.”
Athos and Aramis bowed and went out.
“My dear Athos,” cried Aramis, “I think you consented to accompany me
only to give me a lesson—God forgive me!”
“Wait a little, Aramis; it will be time for you to perceive my motive
when we have paid our visit to the coadjutor.”
“Let us then go to the archiepiscopal palace,” said Aramis.
They directed their horses to the city. On arriving at the cradle from
which Paris sprang they found it inundated with water, and it was again
necessary to take a boat. The palace rose from the bosom of the water,
and to see the number of boats around it one would have fancied one’s
self not in Paris, but in Venice. Some of these boats were dark and
mysterious, others noisy and lighted up with torches. The friends slid
in through this congestion of embarkation and landed in their turn. The
palace was surrounded with water, but a kind of staircase had been
fixed to the lower walls; and the only difference was, that instead of
entering by the doors, people entered by the windows.
Thus did Athos and Aramis make their appearance in the ante-chamber,
where about a dozen noblemen were collected in waiting.
“Good heavens!” said Aramis to Athos, “does the coadjutor intend to
indulge himself in the pleasure of making us cool our hearts off in his
ante-chamber?”
“My dear friend, we must take people as we find them. The coadjutor is
at this moment one of the seven kings of Paris, and has a court. Let us
send in our names, and if he does not send us a suitable message we
will leave him to his own affairs or those of France. Let us call one
of these lackeys, with a demi-pistole in the left hand.”
“Exactly so,” cried Aramis. “Ah! if I’m not mistaken here’s Bazin. Come
here, fellow.”