THE RAT AND THE CHEESE.
D'Artagnan and Porthos returned on foot, as D'Artagnan had arrived. When
D'Artagnan, as he entered the shop of the Pilon d'Or, had announced to
Planchet that M. de Valon would be one of the privileged travelers, and
when the plume in Porthos' hat had made the wooden candles suspended
over the front jingle together, something almost like a melancholy
presentiment troubled the delight which Planchet had promised himself
for the next day. But the grocer's heart was of sterling metal, a
precious relic of the good old time, which always remains what it has
always been for those who are getting old the time of their youth, and
for those who are young the old age of their ancestors. Planchet,
notwithstanding the sort of internal shiver, which he checked
immediately he experienced it, received Porthos, therefore, with a
respect mingled with the most tender cordiality. Porthos, who was a
little cold and stiff in his manners at first, on account of the social
difference which existed at that period between a baron and a grocer,
soon began to get a little softened when he perceived so much
good-feeling and so many kind attentions in Planchet. He was
particularly touched by the liberty which was permitted him to plunge
his large hands into the boxes of dried fruits and preserves, into the
sacks of nuts and almonds, and into the drawers full of sweetmeats. So
that, notwithstanding Planchet's pressing invitations to go upstairs to
the _entresol_, he chose as his favorite seat, during the evening which
he had to spend at Planchet's house, the shop itself, where his fingers
could always find whatever his nose had first detected for him. The
delicious figs from Provence, filberts from the forest, Tours plums,
were subjects of his interrupted attention for five consecutive hours.
His teeth, like millstones, cracked heaps of nuts, the shells of which
were scattered all over the floor, where they were trampled by every one
who went in and out of the shop; Porthos pulled from the stalk with his
lips, at one mouthful, bunches of the rich Muscatel raisins with their
beautiful bloom and a half-pound of which passed at one gulp from his
mouth to his stomach. In one of the corners of the shop, Planchet's
assistants, crouching down in a fright, looked at each other without
venturing to open their lips. They did not know who Porthos was, for
they had never seen him before. The race of those Titans, who had worn
the cuirasses of Hugues Capet, Philip Augustus and Francis the First,
had already begun to disappear. They could not help thinking he might
possibly be the ogre of the fairytale, who was going to turn the whole
contents of Planchet's shop into his insatiable stomach, and that, too,
without in the slightest degree displacing the barrels and chests that
were in it. Cracking, munching, chewing, nibbling, sucking, and
swallowing, Porthos occasionally said to the grocer:
"You do a very good business here, friend Planchet."
"He will very soon have none at all to do, if this continues," grumbled
the foreman, who had Planchet's word that he should be his successor.
And, in his despair, he approached Porthos, who blocked up the whole of
the passage leading from the back shop to the shop itself. He hoped that
Porthos would rise, and that this movement would distract his devouring
ideas.
"What do you want, my man?" asked Porthos, very affably.
"I should like to pass you, monsieur, if it is not troubling you too
much."
"Very well," said Porthos, "it does not trouble me in the least."
At the same moment he took hold of the young fellow by the waistband,
lifted him off the ground, and placed him very gently on the other side,
smiling all the while with the same affable expression. As soon as
Porthos had placed him on the ground, the lad's legs so shook under him
that he fell back upon some sacks of corks. But noticing the giant's
gentleness of manner, he ventured again, and said:
"Ah, monsieur! pray be careful."
"What about?" inquired Porthos.
"You are positively putting fire into your body."
"How is that, my good fellow?" said Porthos.
"All those things are very heating to the system."
"Which?"
"Raisins, nuts and almonds."
"Yes; but if raisins, nuts and almonds are heating--"
"There is no doubt at all of it, monsieur."
"Honey is very cooling," said Porthos, stretching out his hand toward a
small barrel of honey which was opened, and he plunged the scoop with
which the wants of the customers were supplied into it, and swallowed a
good half-pound at one gulp.
"I must trouble you for some water now, my man," said Porthos.
"In a pail, monsieur?" asked the lad, simply.
"No, in a water-bottle; that will be quite enough;" and raising the
bottle to his mouth, as a trumpeter does his trumpet, he emptied the
bottle at a single draught.
Planchet was moved in all the sentiments which correspond to the fibers
of propriety and self-love. However, a worthy representative of the
hospitality which prevailed in early days, he feigned to be talking very
earnestly with D'Artagnan, and incessantly repeated:--"Ah! monsieur,
what a happiness! what an honor!"
"What time shall we have supper, Planchet?" inquired Porthos; "I feel
hungry."
The foreman clasped his hands together. The two others got under the
counters, fearing that Porthos might have a taste for human flesh.
"We shall only take a sort of snack here," said D'Artagnan; "and when we
get to Planchet's country-seat, we shall have supper."
"Ah! ah! so we are going to your country-house, Planchet," said Porthos;
"so much the better."
"You overwhelm me, Monsieur le Baron."
The "Monsieur le Baron" had a great effect upon the men, who detected a
personage of the highest quality in an appetite of that kind. This
title, too, reassured them. They had never heard that an ogre was ever
called "Monsieur le Baron."
"I will take a few biscuits to eat on the road," said Porthos,
carelessly; and he emptied a whole jar of aniseed biscuits into the huge
pocket of his doublet.
"My shop is saved!" exclaimed Planchet.
"Yes, as the cheese was," said the foreman.
"What cheese?"
"That Dutch cheese, inside which a rat had made his way, and we only
found the rind left."
Planchet looked all round his shop, and observing the different articles
which had escaped Porthos' teeth, he found the comparison somewhat
exaggerated. The foreman, who remarked what was passing in his master's
mind, said, "Take care; he is not gone yet."
"Have you any fruit here?" said Porthos, as he went upstairs to the
_entresol_, where it had just been announced that some refreshment was
prepared.
"Alas!" thought the grocer, addressing a look at D'Artagnan full of
entreaty, which the latter half understood.
As soon as they had finished eating they set off. It was late when the
three riders, who had left Paris about six in the evening, arrived at
Fontainebleau. The journey had passed very agreeably. Porthos took a
fancy to Planchet's society, because the latter was very respectful in
his manners and seemed delighted to talk to him about his meadows, his
woods, and his rabbit-warrens. Porthos had all the taste and pride of a
landed proprietor.
When D'Artagnan saw his two companions in earnest conversation, he took
the opposite side of the road, and letting his bridle drop upon his
horse's neck, separated himself from the whole world, as he had done
from Porthos and from Planchet. The moon shone softly through the
foliage of the forest. The odors of the open country rose deliciously
perfumed to the horses' nostrils, and they snorted and pranced about
delightedly. Porthos and Planchet began to talk about hay-crops.
Planchet admitted to Porthos that in the more advanced years of his
life, he had certainly neglected agricultural pursuits for commerce, but
that his childhood had been passed in Picardy, in the beautiful meadows
where the grass grew as high as the knees, and where he had played under
the green apple-trees covered with red-cheeked fruit; he went on to say,
that he had solemnly promised himself that as soon as he should have
made his fortune, he would return to nature, and end his days as he had
begun them, as near as he possibly could to the earth itself, where all
men must go at last.
"Eh! eh!" said Porthos; "in that case, my dear Monsieur Planchet, your
retreat is not far distant."
"How so?"
"Why, you seem to be in the way of making your fortune very soon."
"Well, we are getting on pretty well, I must admit," replied Planchet.
"Come, tell me, what is the extent of your ambition, and what is the
amount you intend to retire upon?"
"There is one circumstance, monsieur," said Planchet, without answering
the question, "which occasions me a good deal of anxiety."
"What is it?" inquired Porthos, looking all round him as if in search of
the circumstance that annoyed Planchet, and desirous of freeing him from
it.
"Why, formerly," said the grocer, "you used to call me Planchet, quite
short, and you would have spoken to me then in a much more familiar
manner than you do now."
"Certainly, certainly. I should have said so formerly," replied the
good-natured Porthos, with an embarrassment full of delicacy; "but
formerly--"
"Formerly I was M. d'Artagnan's lackey; is not that what you mean?"
"Yes."
"Well, if I am not quite his lackey, I am as much as ever I was his
devoted servant; and more than that, since that time--"
"Well, Planchet?"
"Since that time, I have had the honor of being in partnership with
him."
"Oh, oh!" said Porthos. "What, has D'Artagnan gone into the grocery
business?"
"No, no," said D'Artagnan, whom these words had drawn out of his
reverie, and who entered into the conversation with that readiness and
rapidity which distinguished every operation of his mind and body. "It
was not D'Artagnan who entered into the grocery business, but Planchet,
who entered into a political affair with me."
"Yes," said Planchet, with mingled pride and satisfaction, "we
transacted a little matter of business which brought me in a hundred
thousand francs, and M. d'Artagnan two hundred thousand."
"Oh, oh!" said Porthos, with admiration.
"So that, Monsieur le Baron," continued the grocer, "I again beg you to
be kind enough to call me Planchet, as you used to do; and to speak to
me as familiarly as in old times. You cannot possibly imagine the
pleasure that it would give me."
"If that be the case, my dear Planchet, I will do so, certainly,"
replied Porthos. And as he was quite close to Planchet, he raised his
hand, as if to strike him on the shoulder, in token of friendly
cordiality; but a fortunate movement of the horse made him miss his aim,
so that his hand fell on the crupper of Planchet's horse, instead; which
made the animal's legs almost give way.
D'Artagnan burst out laughing, as he said, "Take care, Planchet; for if
Porthos begins to like you too much, he will caress you; and if he
caresses you, he will knock you as flat as a pancake. Porthos is still
as strong as ever, you know."
"Oh," said Planchet, "Mousqueton is not dead, and yet Monsieur le Baron
is very fond of him."
"Certainly," said Porthos, with a sigh which made all the three horses
rear; "and I was only saying, this very morning, to D'Artagnan, how much
I regretted him. But tell me, Planchet?"
"Thank you, Monsieur le Baron, thank you."
"Good lad, good lad! How many acres of park have you got?"
"Of park?"
"Yes; we will reckon up the meadows presently, and the woods afterward."
"Whereabouts, monsieur?"
"At your chateau."
"Oh, Monsieur le Baron; I have neither chateau, nor park, nor meadows,
nor woods."
"What have you got, then?" inquired Porthos, "and why do you call it a
country-seat?"
"I did not call it a country-seat, Monsieur le Baron," replied Planchet,
somewhat humiliated, "but a country-box."
"Ah, ah! I understand. You are modest."
"No, Monsieur le Baron; I speak the plain truth. I have rooms for a
couple of friends, that is all."
"But, in that case, whereabouts do your friends walk?"
"In the first place, they can walk about the king's forest, which is
very beautiful."
"Yes, I know the forest is very fine," said Porthos; "nearly as
beautiful as my forest at Berry."
Planchet opened his eyes very wide. "Have you a forest of the same kind
as the forest at Fontainebleau, Monsieur le Baron?" he stammered out.
"Yes; I have two, indeed, but the one at Berry is my favorite."
"Why so?" asked Planchet.
"Because I don't know where it ends; and, also, because it is full of
poachers."
"How can the poachers make the forest so agreeable to you?"
"Because they hunt my game, and I hunt them--which in these peaceful
times is for me a picture of war on a small scale."
They had reached this turn of the conversation, when Planchet, looking
up, perceived the houses at the commencement of Fontainebleau, the
outline of which stood out strongly upon the dark face of the heavens;
while, rising above the compact and irregularly formed mass of
buildings, the pointed roofs of the chateau were clearly visible, the
slates of which glistened beneath the light of the moon, like the scales
of an immense fish. "Gentlemen," said Planchet, "I have the honor to
inform you that we have arrived at Fontainebleau."