Twenty years after
of the fist, and I how to trip up a bull by taking him by the horns.
That will insure his confidence.”
Athos smiled. “You are the best companion that I know, D’Artagnan,” he
said, offering his hand to the Gascon; “and I am very happy in having
found you again, my dear son.”
This was, as we have seen, the term which Athos applied to D’Artagnan
in his more expansive moods.
At this moment Grimaud came in. He had stanched the wound and the man
was better.
The four friends took leave of him and asked if they could deliver any
message for him to his brother.
“Tell him,” answered the brave man, “to let the king know that they
have not killed me outright. However insignificant I am, I am sure that
his majesty is concerned for me and blames himself for my death.”
“Be easy,” said D’Artagnan, “he will know all before night.”
The little troop recommenced their march, and at the end of two hours
perceived a considerable body of horsemen about half a league ahead.
“My dear friends,” said D’Artagnan, “give your swords to Monsieur
Mouston, who will return them to you at the proper time and place, and
do not forget you are our prisoners.”
It was not long before they joined the escort. The king was riding in
front, surrounded by troopers, and when he saw Athos and Aramis a glow
of pleasure lighted his pale cheeks.
D’Artagnan passed to the head of the column, and leaving his friends
under the guard of Porthos, went straight to Harrison, who recognized
him as having met him at Cromwell’s and received him as politely as a
man of his breeding and disposition could. It turned out as D’Artagnan
had foreseen. The colonel neither had nor could have any suspicion.
They halted for the king to dine. This time, however, due precautions
were taken to prevent any attempt at escape. In the large room of the
hotel a small table was placed for him and a large one for the
officers.
“Will you dine with me?” asked Harrison of D’Artagnan.
“Gad, I should be very happy, but I have my companion, Monsieur du
Vallon, and the two prisoners, whom I cannot leave. Let us manage it
better. Have a table set for us in a corner and send us whatever you
like from yours.”
“Good,” answered Harrison.
The matter was arranged as D’Artagnan had suggested, and when he
returned he found the king already seated at his little table, where
Parry waited on him, Harrison and his officers sitting together at
another table, and, in a corner, places reserved for himself and his
companions.
The table at which the Puritan officers were seated was round, and
whether by chance or coarse intention, Harrison sat with his back to
the king.
The king saw the four gentlemen come in, but appeared to take no notice
of them.
They sat down in such a manner as to turn their backs on nobody. The
officers, table and that of the king were opposite to them.
“I’faith, colonel,” said D’Artagnan, “we are very grateful for your
gracious invitation; for without you we ran the risk of going without
dinner, as we have without breakfast. My friend here, Monsieur du
Vallon, shares my gratitude, for he was particularly hungry.”
“And I am so still,” said Porthos bowing to Harrison.
“And how,” said Harrison, laughing, “did this serious calamity of going
without breakfast happen to you?”
“In a very simple manner, colonel,” said D’Artagnan. “I was in a hurry
to join you and took the road you had already gone by. You can
understand our disappointment when, arriving at a pretty little house
on the skirts of a wood, which at a distance had quite a gay
appearance, with its red roof and green shutters, we found nothing but
a poor wretch bathed—Ah! colonel, pay my respects to the officer of
yours who struck that blow.”
“Yes,” said Harrison, laughing, and looking over at one of the officers
seated at his table. “When Groslow undertakes this kind of thing
there’s no need to go over the ground a second time.”
“Ah! it was this gentleman?” said D’Artagnan, bowing to the officer. “I
am sorry he does not speak French, that I might tender him my
compliments.”
“I am ready to receive and return them, sir,” said the officer, in
pretty good French, “for I resided three years in Paris.”
“Then, sir, allow me to assure you that your blow was so well directed
that you have nearly killed your man.”
“Nearly? I thought I had quite,” said Groslow.
“No. It was a very near thing, but he is not dead.”
As he said this, D’Artagnan gave a glance at Parry, who was standing in
front of the king, to show him that the news was meant for him.
The king, too, who had listened in the greatest agony, now breathed
again.
“Hang it,” said Groslow, “I thought I had succeeded better. If it were
not so far from here to the house I would return and finish him.”
“And you would do well, if you are afraid of his recovering; for you
know, if a wound in the head does not kill at once, it is cured in a
week.”
And D’Artagnan threw a second glance toward Parry, on whose face such
an expression of joy was manifested that Charles stretched out his hand
to him, smiling.
Parry bent over his master’s hand and kissed it respectfully.
“I’ve a great desire to drink the king’s health,” said Athos.
“Let me propose it, then,” said D’Artagnan.
“Do,” said Aramis.
Porthos looked at D’Artagnan, quite amazed at the resources with which
his companion’s Gascon sharpness continually supplied him. D’Artagnan
took up his camp tin cup, filled it with wine and arose.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “let us drink to him who presides at the repast.
Here’s to our colonel, and let him know that we are always at his
commands as far as London and farther.”
And as D’Artagnan, as he spoke, looked at Harrison, the colonel
imagined the toast was for himself. He arose and bowed to the four
friends, whose eyes were fixed on Charles, while Harrison emptied his
glass without the slightest misgiving.
The king, in return, looked at the four gentlemen and drank with a
smile full of nobility and gratitude.
“Come, gentlemen,” cried Harrison, regardless of his illustrious
captive, “let us be off.”
“Where do we sleep, colonel?”
“At Thirsk,” replied Harrison.
“Parry,” said the king, rising too, “my horse; I desire to go to
Thirsk.”
“Egad!” said D’Artagnan to Athos, “your king has thoroughly taken me,
and I am quite at his service.”
“If what you say is sincere,” replied Athos, “he will never reach
London.”
“How so?”
“Because before then we shall have carried him off.”
“Well, this time, Athos,” said D’Artagnan, “upon my word, you are mad.”
“Have you some plan in your head then?” asked Aramis.
“Ay!” said Porthos, “the thing would not be impossible with a good
plan.”
“I have none,” said Athos; “but D’Artagnan will discover one.”
D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and they proceeded.
Chapter LXI.
D’Artagnan hits on a Plan.
As night closed in they arrived at Thirsk. The four friends appeared to
be entire strangers to one another and indifferent to the precautions
taken for guarding the king. They withdrew to a private house, and as
they had reason every moment to fear for their safety, they occupied
but one room and provided an exit, which might be useful in case of an
attack. The lackeys were sent to their several posts, except that
Grimaud lay on a truss of straw across the doorway.
D’Artagnan was thoughtful and seemed for the moment to have lost his
usual loquacity. Porthos, who could never see anything that was not
self-evident, talked to him as usual. He replied in monosyllables and
Athos and Aramis looked significantly at one another.
Next morning D’Artagnan was the first to rise. He had been down to the
stables, already taken a look at the horses and given the necessary
orders for the day, whilst Athos and Aramis were still in bed and
Porthos snoring.
At eight o’clock the march was resumed in the same order as the night
before, except that D’Artagnan left his friends and began to renew the
acquaintance which he had already struck up with Monsieur Groslow.
Groslow, whom D’Artagnan’s praises had greatly pleased, welcomed him
with a gracious smile.
“Really, sir,” D’Artagnan said to him, “I am pleased to find one with
whom to talk in my own poor tongue. My friend, Monsieur du Vallon, is
of a very melancholy disposition, so much so, that one can scarcely get
three words out of him all day. As for our two prisoners, you can
imagine that they are but little in the vein for conversation.”
“They are hot royalists,” said Groslow.
“The more reason they should be sulky with us for having captured the
Stuart, for whom, I hope, you’re preparing a pretty trial.”
“Why,” said Groslow, “that is just what we are taking him to London
for.”
“And you never by any chance lose sight of him, I presume?”
“I should think not, indeed. You see he has a truly royal escort.”
“Ay, there’s no fear in the daytime; but at night?”
“We redouble our precautions.”
“And what method of surveillance do you employ?”
“Eight men remain constantly in his room.”
“The deuce, he is well guarded, then. But besides these eight men, you
doubtless place some guard outside?”
“Oh, no! Just think. What would you have two men without arms do
against eight armed men?”
“Two men—how do you mean?”
“Yes, the king and his lackey.”
“Oh! then they allow the lackey to remain with him?”
“Yes; Stuart begged this favor and Harrison consented. Under pretense
that he’s a king it appears he cannot dress or undress without
assistance.”
“Really, captain,” said D’Artagnan, determined to continue on the
laudatory tack on which he had commenced, “the more I listen to you the
more surprised I am at the easy and elegant manner in which you speak
French. You have lived three years in Paris? May I ask what you were
doing there?”
“My father, who is a merchant, placed me with his correspondent, who in
turn sent his son to join our house in London.”
“Were you pleased with Paris, sir?”
“Yes, but you are much in want of a revolution like our own—not against
your king, who is a mere child, but against that _lazar_ of an Italian,
the queen’s favorite.”
“Ah! I am quite of your opinion, sir, and we should soon make an end of
Mazarin if we had only a dozen officers like yourself, without
prejudices, vigilant and incorruptible.”
“But,” said the officer, “I thought you were in his service and that it
was he who sent you to General Cromwell.”
“That is to say I am in the king’s service, and that knowing he wanted
to send some one to England, I solicited the appointment, so great was
my desire to know the man of genius who now governs the three kingdoms.
So that when he proposed to us to draw our swords in honor of old
England you see how we snapped up the proposition.”
“Yes, I know that you charged by the side of Mordaunt.”
“On his right and left, sir. Ah! there’s another brave and excellent
young man.”
“Do you know him?” asked the officer.
“Yes, very well. Monsieur du Vallon and myself came from France with
him.”
“It appears, too, you kept him waiting a long time at Boulogne.”
“What would you have? I was like you, and had a king in keeping.”
“Aha!” said Groslow; “what king?”
“Our own, to be sure, the little one—Louis XIV.”
“And how long had you to take care of him?”
“Three nights; and, by my troth, I shall always remember those three
nights with a certain pleasure.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that my friends, officers in the guards and _mousquetaires_,
came to keep me company and we passed the night in feasting, drinking,
dicing.”
“Ah true,” said the Englishman, with a sigh; “you Frenchmen are born
boon companions.”
“And don’t you play, too, when you are on guard?”
“Never,” said the Englishman.
“In that case you must be horribly bored, and have my sympathy.”