MONSIEUR DE BEAUFORT.
The prince turned round at the moment when Raoul, in order to leave him
alone with Athos, was shutting the door, and preparing to go with the
other officers into an adjoining apartment.
"Is that the young man I have heard M. le Prince speak so highly of?"
asked M. de Beaufort.
"It is, monseigneur."
"He is quite the soldier; let him stay, comte, we cannot spare him."
"Remain, Raoul, since monseigneur permits it," said Athos.
"Ma foi! he is tall and handsome!" continued the duke. "Will you give
him to me, monseigneur, if I ask him of you?"
"How am I to understand you, monseigneur?" said Athos.
"Why, I call upon you to bid you farewell."
"Farewell!"
"Yes, in good truth. Have you no idea of what I am about to become?"
"Why, I suppose, what you have always been, monseigneur--a valiant
prince and an excellent gentleman."
"I am going to become an African prince--a Bedouin gentleman. The king
is sending me to make conquests among the Arabs."
"What do you tell me, monseigneur?"
"Strange, is it not? I, the Parisian _par essence_--I, who have reigned
in the faubourgs, and have been called King of the Halles--I am going to
pass from the Place Maubert to the minarets of Gigelli: I become from a
Frondeur an adventurer!"
"Oh, monseigneur, if you did not yourself tell me that--"
"It would not be credible, would it? Believe me, nevertheless, and we
have but to bid each other farewell. This is what comes of getting into
favor again."
"Into favor?"
"Yes. You smile. Ah, my dear comte, do you know why I have accepted this
enterprise; can you guess?"
"Because your highness loves glory above everything."
"Oh! no; there is no glory in firing muskets at savages. I see no glory
in that, for my part, and it is more probable that I shall there meet
with something else. But I have wished, and still wish earnestly, my
dear comte, that my life should have that last _facet_, after all the
whimsical exhibitions I have seen myself make during fifty years. For,
in short, you must admit that it is sufficiently strange to be born the
grandson of a king, to have made war against kings, to have been
reckoned among the powers of the age, to have maintained my rank, to
feel Henry IV. within me, to be great admiral of France--and then to go
and get killed at Gigelli, among all those Turks, Saracens, and Moors."
"Monseigneur, you dwell strangely upon that subject," said Athos in an
agitated voice. "How can you suppose that so brilliant a destiny will be
extinguished in that remote and miserable scene?"
"And can you believe, just and simple man as you are, that if I go into
Africa for this ridiculous motive, I will not endeavor to come out of it
without ridicule? Will I not give the world cause to speak of me? And to
be spoken of nowadays, when there are Monsieur le Prince, M. de
Turenne, and many others, my contemporaries, I, admiral of France,
grandson of Henry IV., king of Paris, have I anything left but to get
myself killed! Cordieu! I will be talked of, I tell you; I shall be
killed whether or not; if not there, somewhere else."
"Why, monseigneur, this is only exaggeration; and hitherto you have
demonstrated nothing of that kind but in bravery."
"Peste! my dear friend, there is bravery in facing scurvy, dysentery,
locusts, and poisoned arrows, as my ancestor St. Louis did. Do you know
those fellows still use poisoned arrows? And then, you know me of old, I
fancy, and you know that when I once make up my mind to a thing, I do it
in earnest."
"Yes; you made up your mind to escape from Vincennes."
"Ay, but you aided me in that, my master; and, apropos, I turn this way
and turn that, without seeing my old friend, M. Vaugrimaud. How is he?"
"M. Vaugrimaud is still your highness's most respectful servant," said
Athos, smiling.
"I have a hundred pistoles here for him, which I bring as a legacy. My
will is made, comte."
"Ah! monseigneur! monseigneur!"
"And you may understand that if Grimaud's name were to appear in my
will--" The duc began to laugh; then addressing Raoul, who, from the
commencement of this conversation, had sunk into a profound reverie,
"Young man," said he, "I know there is to be found here a certain De
Vouvray wine, and I believe--" Raoul left the room precipitately, to
order the wine. In the meantime M. de Beaufort took the hand of Athos.
"What do you mean to do with him?" asked he.
"Nothing at present, monseigneur."
"Ah! yes, I know; since the passion of the king for La Valliere."
"Yes, monseigneur."
"That is all true, then, is it? I think I know her, that little La
Valliere. She is not particularly handsome, if I remember right?"
"No, monseigneur," said Athos.
"Do you know whom she reminds me of?"
"Does she remind your highness of any one?"
"She reminds me of a very agreeable girl, whose mother lived in the
Halles."
"Ah! ah!" said Athos, smiling.
"Oh! the good old times," added M. de Beaufort. "Yes; La Valliere
reminds me of that girl."
"Who had a son, had she not?"
"I believe she had," replied the duc, with careless naïveté, and a
complaisant forgetfulness, of which no words could translate the tone
and the vocal expression. "Now, here is poor Raoul, who is your son, I
believe."
"Yes; he is my son, monseigneur."
"And the poor lad has been cut out by the king, and he frets."
"Better than that, monseigneur, he abstains."
"You are going to let the boy rust in idleness; you are wrong. Come,
give him to me."
"My wish is to keep him at home, monseigneur. I have no longer anything
in the world but him, and as long as he likes to remain--"
"Well, well," replied the duc. "I could, nevertheless, have soon put
matters to rights again. I assure you, I think he has in him the stuff
of which maréchals of France are made; I have seen more than one
produced from such."
"That is very possible, monseigneur; but it is the king who makes
maréchals of France, and Raoul will never accept anything of the king."
Raoul interrupted this conversation by his return. He preceded Grimaud,
whose still steady hands carried the plateau with one glass and a bottle
of the duc's favorite wine. On seeing his old protégé, the duc uttered
an exclamation of pleasure.
"Grimaud! Good-evening, Grimaud!" said he; "how goes it?"
The servant bowed profoundly, as much gratified as his noble
interlocutor was.
"Two old friends!" said the duc, shaking honest Grimaud's shoulder after
a vigorous fashion; which was followed by another still more profound
and delighted bow from Grimaud.
"But what is this, comte, only one glass?"
"I should not think of drinking with your highness, unless your highness
permitted me," replied Athos, with noble humility.
"Cordieu! you were right to bring only one glass, we will both drink out
of it, like two brothers in arms. Begin, comte."
"Do me the honor," said Athos, gently putting back the glass.
"You are a charming friend," replied the Duc de Beaufort, who drank, and
passed the goblet to his companion. "But that is not all," continued he,
"I am still thirsty, and I wish to do honor to this handsome young man,
who stands here. I carry good luck with me, vicomte," said he to Raoul;
"wish for something while drinking out of my glass, and the plague
stifle me if what you wish does not come to pass!" He held the goblet to
Raoul, who hastily moistened his lips, and replied with the same
promptitude.
"I have wished for something, monseigneur." His eyes sparkled with a
gloomy fire, and the blood mounted to his cheeks; he terrified Athos, if
only with his smile.
"And what have you wished for?" replied the duke, sinking back into his
fauteuil, while with one hand he returned the bottle to Grimaud, and
with the other gave him a purse.
"Will you promise me, monseigneur, to grant me what I wish for?"
"Pardieu! That is agreed upon?"
"I wished, Monsieur le Duc, to go with you to Gigelli."
Athos became pale, and was unable to conceal his agitation. The duc
looked at his friend, as if desirous to assist him to parry this
unexpected blow.
"That is difficult, my dear vicomte, very difficult," added he, in a
lower tone of voice.
"Pardon me, monseigneur, I have been indiscreet," replied Raoul, in a
firm voice; "but as you yourself invited me to wish--"
"To wish to leave me?" said Athos.
"Oh! monsieur--can you imagine--"
"Well! mordieu!" cried the duc, "the young vicomte is right! What can he
do here? He will rot with grief."
Raoul blushed, and the excitable prince continued: "War is a
distraction; we gain everything by it; we can only lose one thing by
it--life--then so much the worse!"
"That is to say memory," said Raoul, eagerly; "and that is to say, so
much the better!"
He repented of having spoken so warmly when he saw Athos rise and open
the window; which was, doubtless, to conceal his emotion. Raoul sprang
toward the comte, but the latter had already overcome his emotion, and
turned to the lights with a serene and impassible countenance. "Well,
come," said the duc, "let us see! Shall he go, or shall he not? If he
goes, comte, he shall be my aid-de-camp, my son."
"Monseigneur!" cried Raoul, bending his knee.
"Monseigneur!" cried Athos, taking the hand of the duc; "Raoul shall do
just as he likes."
"Oh! no, monsieur, just as you like," interrupted the young man.
"By la Corbleu!" said the prince in his turn, "it is neither the comte
nor the vicomte that shall have his way, it is I. I will take him away.
The marine offers a superb future, my friend."
Raoul smiled again so sadly, that this time Athos felt his heart
penetrated by it, and replied to him by a severe look. Raoul
comprehended it all; he recovered his calmness, and was so guarded that
not another word escaped him. The duc at length rose, on observing the
advanced hour, and said with much animation, "I am in great haste, but
if I am told I have lost time in talking with a friend, I will reply I
have gained a good recruit."
"Pardon me, Monsieur le Duc," interrupted Raoul, "do not tell the king
so, for it is not the king I will serve."
"Eh! My friend, whom then will you serve? The times are past when you
might have said, 'I belong to M. de Beaufort.' No, nowadays, we all
belong to the king, great or small. Therefore, if you serve on board my
vessels, there can be nothing equivocal in it, my dear vicomte; it will
be the king you will serve."
Athos waited with a kind of impatient joy for the reply about to be made
to this embarrassing question by Raoul, the intractable enemy of the
king, his rival. The father hoped that the obstacle would overcome the
desire. He was thankful to M. de Beaufort, whose lightness or generous
reflection had thrown an impediment in the way of the departure of a son
now his only joy. But Raoul, still firm and tranquil: "Monsieur le Duc,"
replied he, "the objection you make I have already considered in my
mind. I will serve on board your vessels, because you do me the honor to
take me with you; but I shall there serve a more powerful master than
the king, I shall serve God!"
"God! how so?" said the duc and Athos together.
"My intention is to make profession, and become a Knight of Malta,"
added Bragelonne, letting fall, one by one, words more icy than the
drops which fall from the bare trees after the tempests of winter.
Under this blow Athos staggered and the prince himself was moved.
Grimaud uttered a heavy groan, and let fall the bottle, which was broken
without anybody paying attention to it. M. de Beaufort looked the young
man in the face, and read plainly, though his eyes were cast down, the
fire of resolution before which everything must give way. As to Athos,
he was too well acquainted with that tender, but inflexible, soul; he
could not hope to make it deviate from the fatal road it had just
chosen. He could only press the hand of the duc held out to him. "Comte,
I shall set off in two days for Toulon," said M. de Beaufort. "Will you
meet me at Paris, in order that I may know your determination?"
"I will have the honor of thanking you there, _mon prince_, for all your
kindnesses," replied the comte.
"And be sure to bring the vicomte with you, whether he follows me or
does not follow me," added the duc: "he has my word, and I only ask
yours."
Having thrown a little balm upon the wound of the paternal heart, he
pulled the ear of Grimaud, whose eyes sparkled more than usual, and
regained his escort in the _parterre_. The horses, rested and refreshed,
set off with spirit through this beautiful night, and soon placed a
considerable distance between their master and the chateau.
Athos and Bragelonne were again face to face. Eleven o'clock was
striking. The father and son preserved a profound silence toward each
other, where an intelligent observer would have expected cries and
tears. But these two men were of such a nature that all emotion plunged
itself where it was lost forever when they had resolved to confine it to
their own hearts. They passed, then, silently and almost breathlessly
the hour which preceded midnight. The clock, by striking, alone pointed
out to them how many minutes had lasted the painful journey made by
their souls in the immensity of the remembrances of the past and of the
fears of the future. Athos rose first, saying, "It is late--till
to-morrow."
Raoul rose, and in his turn embraced his father. The latter held him
clasped to his breast, and said in a tremulous voice, "In two days you
will have left me, then--left me forever, Raoul!"
"Monsieur," replied the young man, "I had formed a determination, that
of piercing my heart with my sword: but you would have thought that
cowardly. I have renounced that determination, and therefore we must
part."
"You leave me by going, Raoul."
"Listen to me again, monsieur, I implore you. If I do not go, I shall
die here of grief and love. I know how long a time I have to live thus.
Send me away quickly, monsieur, or you will see me basely die before
your eyes--in your house--this is stronger than my will--stronger than
my strength--you may plainly see that within one month I have lived
thirty years, and that I approach the end of my life."
"Then," said Athos, coldly, "you go with the intention of getting
killed in Africa? Oh! tell me! do not lie!"
Raoul grew deadly pale, and remained silent for two seconds, which were
to his father two hours of agony. Then, all at once: "Monsieur," said
he, "I have promised to devote myself to God. In exchange for this
sacrifice which I make of my youth and my liberty, I will only ask of
Him one thing, and that is, to preserve me for you, because you are the
only tie which attaches me to this world. God alone can give me the
strength not to forget that I owe you everything, and that nothing ought
to be with me before, you."
Athos embraced his son tenderly, and said:
"You have just replied to me on the word of honor of an honest man; in
two days we shall be with M. de Beaufort at Paris, and you will then do
what will be proper for you to do. You are free. Raoul: adieu."
And he slowly gained his bedroom. Raoul went down into the garden, and
passed the night in the alley of limes.