Twenty years after
Bazin, who was crossing the ante-chamber majestically in his clerical
dress, turned around to see who the impertinent gentleman was who thus
addressed him; but seeing his friends he went up to them quickly and
expressed delight at seeing them.
“A truce to compliments,” said Aramis; “we want to see the coadjutor,
and instantly, as we are in haste.”
“Certainly, sir—it is not such lords as you are who are allowed to wait
in the ante-chamber, only just now he has a secret conference with
Monsieur de Bruy.”
“De Bruy!” cried the friends, “’tis then useless our seeing monsieur
the coadjutor this evening,” said Aramis, “so we give it up.”
And they hastened to quit the palace, followed by Bazin, who was lavish
of bows and compliments.
“Well,” said Athos, when Aramis and he were in the boat again, “are you
beginning to be convinced that we should have done a bad turn to all
these people in arresting Mazarin?”
“You are wisdom incarnate, Athos,” Aramis replied.
What had especially been observed by the two friends was the little
interest taken by the court of France in the terrible events which had
occurred in England, which they thought should have arrested the
attention of all Europe.
In fact, aside from a poor widow and a royal orphan who wept in the
corner of the Louvre, no one appeared to be aware that Charles I. had
ever lived and that he had perished on the scaffold.
The two friends made an appointment for ten o’clock on the following
day; for though the night was well advanced when they reached the door
of the hotel, Aramis said that he had certain important visits to make
and left Athos to enter alone.
At ten o’clock the next day they met again. Athos had been out since
six o’clock.
“Well, have you any news?” Athos asked.
“Nothing. No one has seen D’Artagnan and Porthos has not appeared. Have
you anything?”
“Nothing.”
“The devil!” said Aramis.
“In fact,” said Athos, “this delay is not natural; they took the
shortest route and should have arrived before we did.”
“Add to that D’Artagnan’s rapidity in action and that he is not the man
to lose an hour, knowing that we were expecting him.”
“He expected, you will remember, to be here on the fifth.”
“And here we are at the ninth. This evening the margin of possible
delay expires.”
“What do you think should be done,” asked Athos, “if we have no news of
them to-night?”
“_Pardieu!_ we must go and look for them.”
“All right,” said Athos.
“But Raoul?” said Aramis.
A light cloud passed over the count’s face.
“Raoul gives me much uneasiness,” he said. “He received yesterday a
message from the Prince de Condé; he went to meet him at Saint Cloud
and has not returned.”
“Have you seen Madame de Chevreuse?”
“She was not at home. And you, Aramis, you were going, I think, to
visit Madame de Longueville.”
“I did go there.”
“Well?”
“She was no longer there, but she had left her new address.”
“Where was she?”
“Guess; I give you a thousand chances.”
“How should I know where the most beautiful and active of the Frondists
was at midnight? for I presume it was when you left me that you went to
visit her.”
“At the Hôtel de Ville, my dear fellow.”
“What! at the Hotel de Ville? Has she, then, been appointed provost of
merchants?”
“No; but she has become queen of Paris, _ad interim_, and since she
could not venture at once to establish herself in the Palais Royal or
the Tuileries, she is installed at the Hôtel de Ville, where she is on
the point of giving an heir or an heiress to that dear duke.”
“You didn’t tell me of that, Aramis.”
“Really? It was my forgetfulness then; pardon me.”
“Now,” asked Athos, “what are we to do with ourselves till evening?
Here we are without occupation, it seems to me.”
“You forget, my friend, that we have work cut out for us in the
direction of Charenton; I hope to see Monsieur de Châtillon, whom I’ve
hated for a long time, there.”
“Why have you hated him?”
“Because he is the brother of Coligny.”
“Ah, true! he who presumed to be a rival of yours, for which he was
severely punished; that ought to satisfy you.”
“‘Yes, but it does not; I am rancorous—the only stigma that proves me
to be a churchman. Do you understand? You understand that you are in no
way obliged to go with me.”
“Come, now,” said Athos, “you are joking.”
“In that case, my dear friend, if you are resolved to accompany me
there is no time to lose; the drum beats; I observed cannon on the
road; I saw the citizens in order of battle on the Place of the Hôtel
de Ville; certainly the fight will be in the direction of Charenton, as
the Duc de Châtillon said.”
“I supposed,” said Athos, “that last night’s conferences would modify
those warlike arrangements.”
“No doubt; but they will fight, none the less, if only to mask the
conferences.”
“Poor creatures!” said Athos, “who are going to be killed, in order
that Monsieur de Bouillon may have his estate at Sedan restored to him,
that the reversion of the admiralty may be given to the Duc de
Beaufort, and that the coadjutor may be made a cardinal.”
“Come, come, dear Athos, confess that you would not be so philosophical
if your Raoul were to be involved in this affair.”
“Perhaps you speak the truth, Aramis.”
“Well, let us go, then, where the fighting is, for that is the most
likely place to meet with D’Artagnan, Porthos, and possibly even Raoul.
Stop, there are a fine body of citizens passing; quite attractive, by
Jupiter! and their captain—see! he has the true military style.”
“What, ho!” said Grimaud.
“What?” asked Athos.
“Planchet, sir.”
“Lieutenant yesterday,” said Aramis, “captain to-day, colonel,
doubtless, to-morrow; in a fortnight the fellow will be marshal of
France.”
“Question him about the fight,” said Athos.
Planchet, prouder than ever of his new duties, deigned to explain to
the two gentlemen that he was ordered to take up his position on the
Place Royale with two hundred men, forming the rear of the army of
Paris, and to march on Charenton when necessary.
“This day will be a warm one,” said Planchet, in a warlike tone.
“No doubt,” said Aramis, “but it is far from here to the enemy.”
“Sir, the distance will be diminished,” said a subordinate.
Aramis saluted, then turning toward Athos:
“I don’t care to camp on the Place Royale with all these people,” he
said. “Shall we go forward? We shall see better what is going on.”
“And then Monsieur de Châtillon will not come to the Place Royale to
look for you. Come, then, my friend, we will go forward.”
“Haven’t you something to say to Monsieur de Flamarens on your own
account?”
“My friend,” said Athos, “I have made a resolution never to draw my
sword save when it is absolutely necessary.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“When I last drew my poniard.”
“Ah! Good! another souvenir of Monsieur Mordaunt. Well, my friend,
nothing now is lacking except that you should feel remorse for having
killed that fellow.”
“Hush!” said Athos, putting a finger on his lips, with the sad smile
peculiar to him; “let us talk no more of Mordaunt—it will bring bad
luck.” And Athos set forward toward Charenton, followed closely by
Aramis.
Chapter LXXVIII.
The Battle of Charenton.
As Athos and Aramis proceeded, and passed different companies on the
road, they became aware that they were arriving near the field of
battle.
“Ah! my friend!” cried Athos, suddenly, “where have you brought us? I
fancy I perceive around us faces of different officers in the royal
army; is not that the Duc de Châtillon himself coming toward us with
his brigadiers?”
“Good-day, sirs,” said the duke, advancing; “you are puzzled by what
you see here, but one word will explain everything. There is now a
truce and a conference. The prince, Monsieur de Retz, the Duc de
Beaufort, the Duc de Bouillon, are talking over public affairs. Now one
of two things must happen: either matters will not be arranged, or they
will be arranged, in which last case I shall be relieved of my command
and we shall still meet again.”
“Sir,” said Aramis, “you speak to the point. Allow me to ask you a
question: Where are the plenipotentiaries?”
“At Charenton, in the second house on the right on entering from the
direction of Paris.”
“And was this conference arranged beforehand?”
“No, gentlemen, it seems to be the result of certain propositions which
Mazarin made last night to the Parisians.”
Athos and Aramis exchanged smiles; for they well knew what those
propositions were, to whom they had been made and who had made them.
“And that house in which the plenipotentiaries are,” asked Athos,
“belongs to——”
“To Monsieur de Chanleu, who commands your troops at Charenton. I say
your troops, for I presume that you gentlemen are Frondeurs?”
“Yes, almost,” said Aramis.
“We are for the king and the princes,” added Athos.
“We must understand each other,” said the duke. “The king is with us
and his generals are the Duke of Orléans and the Prince de Condé,
although I must add ’tis almost impossible now to know to which party
any one belongs.”
“Yes,” answered Athos, “but his right place is in our ranks, with the
Prince de Conti, De Beaufort, D’Elbeuf, and De Bouillon; but, sir,
supposing that the conference is broken off—are you going to try to
take Charenton?”
“Such are my orders.”
“Sir, since you command the cavalry——”
“Pardon me, I am commander-in-chief.”
“So much the better. You must know all your officers—I mean those more
distinguished.”
“Why, yes, very nearly.”
“Will you then kindly tell me if you have in your command the Chevalier
d’Artagnan, lieutenant in the musketeers?”
“No, sir, he is not with us; he left Paris more than six weeks ago and
is believed to have gone on a mission to England.”
“I knew that, but I supposed he had returned.”
“No, sir; no one has seen him. I can answer positively on that point,
for the musketeers belong to our forces and Monsieur de Cambon, the
substitute for Monsieur d’Artagnan, still holds his place.”
The two friends looked at each other.
“You see,” said Athos.
“It is strange,” said Aramis.
“It is absolutely certain that some misfortune has happened to them on
the way.”
“If we have no news of them this evening, to-morrow we must start.”
Athos nodded affirmatively, then turning:
“And Monsieur de Bragelonne, a young man fifteen years of age, attached
to the Prince de Condé—has he the honor of being known to you?”
diffident in allowing the sarcastic Aramis to perceive how strong were
his paternal feelings.
“Yes, surely, he came with the prince; a charming young man; he is one
of your friends then, monsieur le comte?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Athos, agitated; “so much so that I wish to see
him if possible.”
“Quite possible, sir; do me the favor to accompany me and I will
conduct you to headquarters.”
“Halloo, there!” cried Aramis, turning around; “what a noise behind
us!”
“A body of cavaliers is coming toward us,” said Châtillon.
“I recognize the coadjutor by his Frondist hat.”
“And I the Duc de Beaufort by his white plume of ostrich feathers.”
“They are coming, full gallop; the prince is with them—ah! he is
leaving them!”
“They are beating the rappel!” cried Châtillon; “we must discover what
is going on.”
In fact, they saw the soldiers running to their arms; the trumpets
sounded; the drums beat; the Duc de Beaufort drew his sword. On his
side the prince sounded a rappel and all the officers of the royalist
army, mingling momentarily with the Parisian troops, ran to him.
“Gentlemen,” cried Châtillon, “the truce is broken, that is evident;
they are going to fight; go, then, into Charenton, for I shall begin in
a short time—there’s a signal from the prince!”