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CHAPTER XLIII. Explanations by Aramis.
"What I have to say to you, friend Porthos, will probably surprise you, but it may
prove instructive."
"I like to be surprised," said Porthos, in a kindly tone; "do not spare me, therefore,
I beg. I am hardened against emotions; don't fear,
speak out."
"It is difficult, Porthos--difficult; for, in truth, I warn you a second time, I have
very strange things, very extraordinary things, to tell you."
"Oh! you speak so well, my friend, that I could listen to you for days together.
Speak, then, I beg--and--stop, I have an idea: I will, to make your task more easy,
I will, to assist you in telling me such things, question you."
"I shall be pleased at your doing so."
"What are we going to fight for, Aramis?" "If you ask me many such questions as that-
-if you would render my task the easier by interrupting my revelations thus, Porthos,
you will not help me at all.
So far, on the contrary, that is the very Gordian knot.
But, my friend, with a man like you, good, generous, and devoted, the confession must
be bravely made.
I have deceived you, my worthy friend." "You have deceived me!"
"Good Heavens! yes." "Was it for my good, Aramis?"
"I thought so, Porthos; I thought so sincerely, my friend."
"Then," said the honest seigneur of Bracieux, "you have rendered me a service,
and I thank you for it; for if you had not deceived me, I might have deceived myself.
In what, then, have you deceived me, tell me?"
"In that I was serving the usurper against whom Louis XIV., at this moment, is
directing his efforts."
"The usurper!" said Porthos, scratching his head.
"That is--well, I do not quite clearly comprehend!"
"He is one of the two kings who are contending fro the crown of France."
"Very well! Then you were serving him who is not Louis
XIV.?"
"You have hit the matter in one word." "It follows that--"
"It follows that we are rebels, my poor friend."
"The devil! the devil!" cried Porthos, much disappointed.
"Oh! but, dear Porthos, be calm, we shall still find means of getting out of the
affair, trust me."
"It is not that which makes me uneasy," replied Porthos; "that which alone touches
me is that ugly word rebels." "Ah! but--"
"And so, according to this, the duchy that was promised me--"
"It was the usurper that was to give it to you."
"And that is not the same thing, Aramis," said Porthos, majestically.
"My friend, if it had only depended upon me, you should have become a prince."
Porthos began to bite his nails in a melancholy way.
"That is where you have been wrong," continued he, "in deceiving me; for that
promised duchy I reckoned upon.
Oh! I reckoned upon it seriously, knowing you to be a man of your word, Aramis."
"Poor Porthos! pardon me, I implore you!"
"So, then," continued Porthos, without replying to the bishop's prayer, "so then,
it seems, I have quite fallen out with Louis XIV.?"
"Oh! I will settle all that, my good friend, I will settle all that.
I will take it on myself alone!" "Aramis!"
"No, no, Porthos, I conjure you, let me act.
No false generosity! No inopportune devotedness!
You knew nothing of my projects.
You have done nothing of yourself. With me it is different.
I alone am the author of this plot.
I stood in need of my inseparable companion; I called upon you, and you came
to me in remembrance of our ancient device, 'All for one, one for all.'
My crime is that I was an egotist."
"Now, that is a word I like," said Porthos; "and seeing that you have acted entirely
for yourself, it is impossible for me to blame you.
It is natural."
And upon this sublime reflection, Porthos pressed his friend's hand cordially.
In presence of this ingenuous greatness of soul, Aramis felt his own littleness.
It was the second time he had been compelled to bend before real superiority
of heart, which is more imposing than brilliancy of mind.
He replied by a mute and energetic pressure to the endearment of his friend.
"Now," said Porthos, "that we have come to an explanation, now that I am perfectly
aware of our situation with respect to Louis XIV., I think, my friend, it is time
to make me comprehend the political
intrigue of which we are the victims--for I plainly see there is a political intrigue
at the bottom of all this."
"D'Artagnan, my good Porthos, D'Artagnan is coming, and will detail it to you in all
its circumstances; but, excuse me, I am deeply grieved, I am bowed down with mental
anguish, and I have need of all my presence
of mind, all my powers of reflection, to extricate you from the false position in
which I have so imprudently involved you; but nothing can be more clear, nothing more
plain, than your position, henceforth.
The king Louis XIV. has no longer now but one enemy: that enemy is myself, myself
alone.
I have made you a prisoner, you have followed me, to-day I liberate you, you fly
back to your prince. You can perceive, Porthos, there is not one
difficulty in all this."
"Do you think so?" said Porthos. "I am quite sure of it."
"Then why," said the admirable good sense of Porthos, "then why, if we are in such an
easy position, why, my friend, do we prepare cannon, muskets, and engines of all
sorts?
It seems to me it would be much more simple to say to Captain d'Artagnan: 'My dear
friend, we have been mistaken; that error is to be repaired; open the door to us, let
us pass through, and we will say good- bye.'"
"Ah! that!" said Aramis, shaking his head. "Why do you say 'that'?
Do you not approve of my plan, my friend?"
"I see a difficulty in it." "What is it?"
"The hypothesis that D'Artagnan may come with orders which will oblige us to defend
ourselves."
"What! defend ourselves against D'Artagnan? Folly!
Against the good D'Artagnan!" Aramis once more replied by shaking his
head.
"Porthos," at length said he, "if I have had the matches lighted and the guns
pointed, if I have had the signal of alarm sounded, if I have called every man to his
post upon the ramparts, those good ramparts
of Belle-Isle which you have so well fortified, it was not for nothing.
Wait to judge; or rather, no, do not wait-- "
"What can I do?"
"If I knew, my friend, I would have told you."
"But there is one thing much more simple than defending ourselves:--a boat, and away
for France--where--"
"My dear friend," said Aramis, smiling with a strong shade of sadness, "do not let us
reason like children; let us be men in council and in execution.--But, hark!
I hear a hail for landing at the port.
Attention, Porthos, serious attention!" "It is D'Artagnan, no doubt," said Porthos,
in a voice of thunder, approaching the parapet.
"Yes, it is I," replied the captain of the musketeers, running lightly up the steps of
the mole, and gaining rapidly the little esplanade on which his two friends waited
for him.
As soon as he came towards them, Porthos and Aramis observed an officer who followed
D'Artagnan, treading apparently in his very steps.
The captain stopped upon the stairs of the mole, when half-way up.
His companions imitated him.
"Make your men draw back," cried D'Artagnan to Porthos and Aramis; "let them retire out
of hearing." This order, given by Porthos, was executed
immediately.
Then D'Artagnan, turning towards him who followed him:
"Monsieur," said he, "we are no longer on board the king's fleet, where, in virtue of
your order, you spoke so arrogantly to me, just now."
"Monsieur," replied the officer, "I did not speak arrogantly to you; I simply, but
rigorously, obeyed instructions. I was commanded to follow you.
I follow you.
I am directed not to allow you to communicate with any one without taking
cognizance of what you do; I am in duty bound, accordingly, to overhear your
conversations."
D'Artagnan trembled with rage, and Porthos and Aramis, who heard this dialogue,
trembled likewise, but with uneasiness and fear.
D'Artagnan, biting his mustache with that vivacity which denoted in him exasperation,
closely to be followed by an explosion, approached the officer.
"Monsieur," said he, in a low voice, so much the more impressive, that, affecting
calm, it threatened tempest--"monsieur, when I sent a canoe hither, you wished to
know what I wrote to the defenders of Belle-Isle.
You produced an order to that effect; and, in my turn, I instantly showed you the note
I had written.
When the skipper of the boat sent by me returned, when I received the reply of
these two gentlemen" (and he pointed to Aramis and Porthos), "you heard every word
of what the messenger said.
All that was plainly in your orders, all that was well executed, very punctually,
was it not?" "Yes, monsieur," stammered the officer;
"yes, without doubt, but--"
"Monsieur," continued D'Artagnan, growing warm--"monsieur, when I manifested the
intention of quitting my vessel to cross to Belle-Isle, you demanded to accompany me; I
did not hesitate; I brought you with me.
You are now at Belle-Isle, are you not?" "Yes, monsieur; but--"
"But--the question no longer is of M. Colbert, who has given you that order, or
of whomsoever in the world you are following the instructions; the question
now is of a man who is a clog upon M.
d'Artagnan, and who is alone with M. d'Artagnan upon steps whose feet are bathed
by thirty feet of salt water; a bad position for that man, a bad position,
monsieur!
I warn you." "But, monsieur, if I am a restraint upon
you," said the officer, timidly, and almost faintly, "it is my duty which--"
"Monsieur, you have had the misfortune, either you or those that sent you, to
insult me. It is done.
I cannot seek redress from those who employ you,--they are unknown to me, or are at too
great a distance.
But you are under my hand, and I swear that if you make one step behind me when I raise
my feet to go up to those gentlemen, I swear to you by my name, I will cleave your
head in two with my sword, and pitch you into the water.
Oh! it will happen! it will happen!
I have only been six times angry in my life, monsieur, and all five preceding
times I killed my man."
The officer did not stir; he became pale under this terrible threat, but replied
with simplicity, "Monsieur, you are wrong in acting against my orders."
Porthos and Aramis, mute and trembling at the top of the parapet, cried to the
musketeer, "Good D'Artagnan, take care!"
D'Artagnan made them a sign to keep silence, raised his foot with ominous
calmness to mount the stair, and turned round, sword in hand, to see if the officer
followed him.
The officer made a sign of the cross and stepped up.
Porthos and Aramis, who knew their D'Artagnan, uttered a cry, and rushed down
to prevent the blow they thought they already heard.
But D'Artagnan passed his sword into his left hand,--
"Monsieur," said he to the officer, in an agitated voice, "you are a brave man.
You will all the better comprehend what I am going to say to you now."
"Speak, Monsieur d'Artagnan, speak," replied the officer.
"These gentlemen we have just seen, and against whom you have orders, are my
friends." "I know they are, monsieur."
"You can understand whether or not I ought to act towards them as your instructions
prescribe." "I understand your reserve."
"Very well; permit me, then, to converse with them without a witness."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, if I yield to your request, if I do that which you beg me, I
break my word; but if I do not do it, I disoblige you.
I prefer the one dilemma to the other.
Converse with your friends, and do not despise me, monsieur, for doing this for
your sake, whom I esteem and honor; do not despise me for committing for you, and you
alone, an unworthy act."
D'Artagnan, much agitated, threw his arm round the neck of the young man, and then
went up to his friends. The officer, enveloped in his cloak, sat
down on the damp, weed-covered steps.
"Well!" said D'Artagnan to his friends, "such is my position, judge for
yourselves." All three embraced as in the glorious days
of their youth.
"What is the meaning of all these preparations?" said Porthos.
"You ought to have a suspicion of what they signify," said D'Artagnan.
"Not any, I assure you, my dear captain; for, in fact, I have done nothing, no more
has Aramis," the worthy baron hastened to say.
D'Artagnan darted a reproachful look at the prelate, which penetrated that hardened
heart. "Dear Porthos!" cried the bishop of Vannes.
"You see what is being done against you," said D'Artagnan; "interception of all boats
coming to or going from Belle-Isle. Your means of transport seized.
If you had endeavored to fly, you would have fallen into the hands of the cruisers
that plow the sea in all directions, on the watch for you.
The king wants you to be taken, and he will take you."
D'Artagnan tore at his gray mustache. Aramis grew somber, Porthos angry.
"My idea was this," continued D'Artagnan: "to make you both come on board, to keep
you near me, and restore you your liberty.
But now, who can say, when I return to my ship, I may not find a superior; that I may
not find secret orders which will take from me my command, and give it to another, who
will dispose of me and you without hope of help?"
"We must remain at Belle-Isle," said Aramis, resolutely; "and I assure you, for
my part, I will not surrender easily."
Porthos said nothing. D'Artagnan remarked the silence of his
friend.
"I have another trial to make of this officer, of this brave fellow who
accompanies me, and whose courageous resistance makes me very happy; for it
denotes an honest man, who, though an
enemy, is a thousand times better than a complaisant coward.
Let us try to learn from him what his instructions are, and what his orders
permit or forbid."
"Let us try," said Aramis. D'Artagnan went to the parapet, leaned over
towards the steps of the mole, and called the officer, who immediately came up.
"Monsieur," said D'Artagnan, after having exchanged the cordial courtesies natural
between gentlemen who know and appreciate each other, "monsieur, if I wished to take
away these gentlemen from here, what would you do?"
"I should not oppose it, monsieur; but having direct explicit orders to put them
under guard, I should detain them."
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan. "That's all over," said Aramis, gloomily.
Porthos did not stir. "But still take Porthos," said the bishop
of Vannes.
"He can prove to the king, and I will help him do so, and you too, Monsieur
d'Artagnan, that he had nothing to do with this affair."
"Hum!" said D'Artagnan.
"Will you come? Will you follow me, Porthos?
The king is merciful." "I want time for reflection," said Porthos.
"You will remain here, then?"
"Until fresh orders," said Aramis, with vivacity.
"Until we have an idea," resumed D'Artagnan; "and I now believe that will
not be long, for I have one already."
"Let us say adieu, then," said Aramis; "but in truth, my good Porthos, you ought to
go." "No," said the latter, laconically.
"As you please," replied Aramis, a little wounded in his susceptibilities at the
morose tone of his companion.
"Only I am reassured by the promise of an idea from D'Artagnan, an idea I fancy I
have divined." "Let us see," said the musketeer, placing
his ear near Aramis's mouth.
The latter spoke several words rapidly, to which D'Artagnan replied, "That is it,
precisely." "Infallible!" cried Aramis.
"During the first emotion this resolution will cause, take care of yourself, Aramis."
"Oh! don't be afraid." "Now, monsieur," said D'Artagnan to the
officer, "thanks, a thousand thanks!
You have made yourself three friends for life."
"Yes," added Aramis. Porthos alone said nothing, but merely
bowed.
D'Artagnan, having tenderly embraced his two old friends, left Belle-Isle with the
inseparable companion with whom M. Colbert had saddled him.
Thus, with the exception of the explanation with which the worthy Porthos had been
willing to be satisfied, nothing had changed in appearance in the fate of one or
the other, "Only," said Aramis, "there is D'Artagnan's idea."
D'Artagnan did not return on board without profoundly analyzing the idea he had
discovered.
Now, we know that whatever D'Artagnan did examine, according to custom, daylight was
certain to illuminate. As to the officer, now grown mute again, he
had full time for meditation.
Therefore, on putting his foot on board his vessel, moored within cannon-shot of the
island, the captain of the musketeers had already got together all his means,
offensive and defensive.
He immediately assembled his council, which consisted of the officers serving under his
orders.
These were eight in number; a chief of the maritime forces; a major directing the
artillery; an engineer, the officer we are acquainted with, and four lieutenants.
Having assembled them, D'Artagnan arose, took of his hat, and addressed them thus:
"Gentlemen, I have been to reconnoiter Belle-Ile-en-Mer, and I have found in it a
good and solid garrison; moreover, preparations are made for a defense that
may prove troublesome.
I therefore intend to send for two of the principal officers of the place, that we
may converse with them.
Having separated them from their troops and cannon, we shall be better able to deal
with them; particularly by reasoning with them.
Is not this your opinion, gentlemen?"
The major of artillery rose. "Monsieur," said he, with respect, but
firmness, "I have heard you say that the place is preparing to make a troublesome
defense.
The place is then, as you know, determined on rebellion?"
D'Artagnan was visibly put out by this reply; but he was not the man to allow
himself to be subdued by a trifle, and resumed:
"Monsieur," said he, "your reply is just.
But you are ignorant that Belle-Isle is a fief of M. Fouquet's, and that former
monarchs gave the right to the seigneurs of Belle-Isle to arm their people."
The major made a movement.
"Oh! do not interrupt me," continued D'Artagnan.
"You are going to tell me that that right to arm themselves against the English was
not a right to arm themselves against their king.
But it is not M. Fouquet, I suppose, who holds Belle-Isle at this moment, since I
arrested M. Fouquet the day before yesterday.
Now the inhabitants and defenders of Belle- Isle know nothing of this arrest.
You would announce it to them in vain.
It is a thing so unheard-of and extraordinary, so unexpected, that they
would not believe you.
A Breton serves his master, and not his masters; he serves his master till he has
seen him dead. Now the Bretons, as far as I know, have not
seen the body of M. Fouquet.
It is not, then, surprising they hold out against that which is neither M. Fouquet
nor his signature." The major bowed in token of assent.
"That is why," continued D'Artagnan, "I propose to cause two of the principal
officers of the garrison to come on board my vessel.
They will see you, gentlemen; they will see the forces we have at our disposal; they
will consequently know to what they have to trust, and the fate that attends them, in
case of rebellion.
We will affirm to them, upon our honor, that M. Fouquet is a prisoner, and that all
resistance can only be prejudicial to them.
We will tell them that at the first cannon fired, there will be no further hope of
mercy from the king. Then, or so at least I trust, they will
resist no longer.
They will yield up without fighting, and we shall have a place given up to us in a
friendly way which it might cost prodigious efforts to subdue."
The officer who had followed D'Artagnan to Belle-Isle was preparing to speak, but
D'Artagnan interrupted him.
"Yes, I know what you are going to tell me, monsieur; I know that there is an order of
the king's to prevent all secret communications with the defenders of Belle-
Isle, and that is exactly why I do not
offer to communicate except in presence of my staff."
And D'Artagnan made an inclination of the head to his officers, who knew him well
enough to attach a certain value to the condescension.
The officers looked at each other as if to read each other's opinions in their eyes,
with the intention of evidently acting, should they agree, according to the desire
of D'Artagnan.
And already the latter saw with joy that the result of their consent would be
sending a bark to Porthos and Aramis, when the king's officer drew from a pocket a
folded paper, which he placed in the hands of D'Artagnan.
This paper bore upon its superscription the number 1.
"What, more!" murmured the surprised captain.
"Read, monsieur," said the officer, with a courtesy that was not free from sadness.
D'Artagnan, full of mistrust, unfolded the paper, and read these words: "Prohibition
to M. d'Artagnan to assemble any council whatever, or to deliberate in any way
before Belle-Isle be surrendered and the prisoners shot.
Signed--LOUIS."
D'Artagnan repressed the quiver of impatience that ran through his whole body,
and with a gracious smile: "That is well, monsieur," said he; "the
king's orders shall be complied with."
>
CHAPTER XLIV. Result of the Ideas of the King, and the
Ideas of
D'Artagnan. The blow was direct.
It was severe, mortal.
D'Artagnan, furious at having been anticipated by an idea of the king's, did
not despair, however, even yet; and reflecting upon the idea he had brought
back from Belle-Isle, he elicited therefrom novel means of safety for his friends.
"Gentlemen," said he, suddenly, "since the king has charged some other than myself
with his secret orders, it must be because I no longer possess his confidence, and I
should really be unworthy of it if I had
the courage to hold a command subject to so many injurious suspicions.
Therefore I will go immediately and carry my resignation to the king.
I tender it before you all, enjoining you all to fall back with me upon the coast of
France, in such a way as not to compromise the safety of the forces his majesty has
confided to me.
For this purpose, return all to your posts; within an hour, we shall have the ebb of
the tide. To your posts, gentlemen!
I suppose," added he, on seeing that all prepared to obey him, except the
surveillant officer, "you have no orders to object, this time?"
And D'Artagnan almost triumphed while speaking these words.
This plan would prove the safety of his friends.
The blockade once raised, they might embark immediately, and set sail for England or
Spain, without fear of being molested.
Whilst they were making their escape, D'Artagnan would return to the king; would
justify his return by the indignation which the mistrust of Colbert had raised in him;
he would be sent back with full powers, and
he would take Belle-Isle; that is to say, the cage, after the birds had flown.
But to this plan the officer opposed a further order of the king's.
It was thus conceived:
"From the moment M. d'Artagnan shall have manifested the desire of giving in his
resignation, he shall no longer be reckoned leader of the expedition, and every officer
placed under his orders shall be held to no longer obey him.
Moreover, the said Monsieur d'Artagnan, having lost that quality of leader of the
army sent against Belle-Isle, shall set out immediately for France, accompanied by the
officer who will have remitted the message
to him, and who will consider him a prisoner for whom he is answerable."
Brave and careless as he was, D'Artagnan turned pale.
Everything had been calculated with a depth of precognition which, for the first time
in thirty years, recalled to him the solid foresight and inflexible logic of the great
cardinal.
He leaned his head on his hand, thoughtful, scarcely breathing.
"If I were to put this order in my pocket," thought he, "who would know it, what would
prevent my doing it?
Before the king had had time to be informed, I should have saved those poor
fellows yonder. Let us exercise some small audacity!
My head is not one of those the executioner strikes off for disobedience.
We will disobey!"
But at the moment he was about to adopt this plan, he saw the officers around him
reading similar orders, which the passive agent of the thoughts of that infernal
Colbert had distributed to them.
This contingency of his disobedience had been foreseen--as all the rest had been.
"Monsieur," said the officer, coming up to him, "I await your good pleasure to
depart."
"I am ready, monsieur," replied D'Artagnan, grinding his teeth.
The officer immediately ordered a canoe to receive M. d'Artagnan and himself.
At sight of this he became almost distraught with rage.
"How," stammered he, "will you carry on the directions of the different corps?"
"When you are gone, monsieur," replied the commander of the fleet, "it is to me the
command of the whole is committed."
"Then, monsieur," rejoined Colbert's man, addressing the new leader, "it is for you
that this last order remitted to me is intended.
Let us see your powers."
"Here they are," said the officer, exhibiting the royal signature.
"Here are your instructions," replied the officer, placing the folded paper in his
hands; and turning round towards D'Artagnan, "Come, monsieur," said he, in
an agitated voice (such despair did he
behold in that man of iron), "do me the favor to depart at once."
"Immediately!" articulated D'Artagnan, feebly, subdued, crushed by implacable
impossibility.
And he painfully subsided into the little boat, which started, favored by wind and
tide, for the coast of France. The king's guards embarked with him.
The musketeer still preserved the hope of reaching Nantes quickly, and of pleading
the cause of his friends eloquently enough to incline the king to mercy.
The bark flew like a swallow.
D'Artagnan distinctly saw the land of France profiled in black against the white
clouds of night.
"Ah! monsieur," said he, in a low voice, to the officer to whom, for an hour, he had
ceased speaking, "what would I give to know the instructions for the new commander!
They are all pacific, are they not? and--"
He did not finish; the thunder of a distant cannon rolled athwart the waves, another,
and two or three still louder. D'Artagnan shuddered.
"They have commenced the siege of Belle- Isle," replied the officer.
The canoe had just touched the soil of France.
>
CHAPTER XLV. The Ancestors of Porthos.
When D'Artagnan left Aramis and Porthos, the latter returned to the principal fort,
in order to converse with greater liberty.
Porthos, still thoughtful, was a restraint on Aramis, whose mind had never felt itself
more free. "Dear Porthos," said he, suddenly, "I will
explain D'Artagnan's idea to you."
"What idea, Aramis?" "An idea to which we shall owe our liberty
within twelve hours." "Ah! indeed!" said Porthos, much
astonished.
"Let us hear it." "Did you remark, in the scene our friend
had with the officer, that certain orders constrained him with regard to us?"
"Yes, I did notice that."
"Well!
D'Artagnan is going to give in his resignation to the king, and during the
confusion that will result from his absence, we will get away, or rather you
will get away, Porthos, if there is possibility of flight for only one."
Here Porthos shook his head and replied: "We will escape together, Aramis, or we
will stay together."
"Thine is a right, a generous heart," said Aramis, "only your melancholy uneasiness
affects me." "I am not uneasy," said Porthos.
"Then you are angry with me."
"I am not angry with you." "Then why, my friend, do you put on such a
dismal countenance?" "I will tell you; I am making my will."
And while saying these words, the good Porthos looked sadly in the face of Aramis.
"Your will!" cried the bishop. "What, then! do you think yourself lost?"
"I feel fatigued.
It is the first time, and there is a custom in our family."
"What is it, my friend?" "My grandfather was a man twice as strong
as I am."
"Indeed!" said Aramis; "then your grandfather must have been Samson himself."
"No; his name was Antoine.
Well! he was about my age, when, setting out one day for the chase, he felt his legs
weak, the man who had never known what weakness was before."
"What was the meaning of that fatigue, my friend?"
"Nothing good, as you will see; for having set out, complaining still of weakness of
the legs, he met a wild boar, which made head against him; he missed him with his
arquebuse, and was ripped up by the beast and died immediately."
"There is no reason in that why you should alarm yourself, dear Porthos."
"Oh! you will see.
My father was as strong again as I am. He was a rough soldier, under Henry III.
and Henry IV.; his name was not Antoine, but Gaspard, the same as M. de Coligny.
Always on horseback, he had never known what lassitude was.
One evening, as he rose from table, his legs failed him."
"He had supped heartily, perhaps," said Aramis, "and that was why he staggered."
"Bah! A friend of M. de Bassompierre, nonsense!
No, no, he was astonished at this lassitude, and said to my mother, who
laughed at him, 'Would not one believe I was going to meet with a wild boar, as the
late M. du Vallon, my father did?'"
"Well?" said Aramis.
"Well, having this weakness, my father insisted upon going down into the garden,
instead of going to bed; his foot slipped on the first stair, the staircase was
steep; my father fell against a stone in which an iron hinge was fixed.
The hinge gashed his temple; and he was stretched out dead upon the spot."
Aramis raised his eyes to his friend: "These are two extraordinary
circumstances," said he; "let us not infer that there may succeed a third.
It is not becoming in a man of your strength to be superstitious, my brave
Porthos. Besides, when were your legs known to fail?
Never have you stood so firm, so haughtily; why, you could carry a house on your
shoulders."
"At this moment," said Porthos, "I feel myself pretty active; but at times I
vacillate; I sink; and lately this phenomenon, as you say, has occurred four
times.
I will not say this frightens me, but it annoys me.
Life is an agreeable thing.
I have money; I have fine estates; I have horses that I love; I have also friends
that I love: D'Artagnan, Athos, Raoul, and you."
The admirable Porthos did not even take the trouble to dissimulate in the very presence
of Aramis the rank he gave him in his friendship.
Aramis pressed his hand: "We will still live many years," said he, "to preserve to
the world such specimens of its rarest men. Trust yourself to me, my friend; we have no
reply from D'Artagnan, that is a good sign.
He must have given orders to get the vessels together and clear the seas.
On my part I have just issued directions that a bark should be rolled on rollers to
the mouth of the great cavern of Locmaria, which you know, where we have so often lain
in wait for the foxes."
"Yes, and which terminates at the little creek by a trench where we discovered the
day that splendid fox escaped that way." "Precisely.
In case of misfortunes, a bark is to be concealed for us in that cavern; indeed, it
must be there by this time. We will wait for a favorable moment, and
during the night we will go to sea!"
"That is a grand idea. What shall we gain by it?"
"We shall gain this--nobody knows that grotto, or rather its issue, except
ourselves and two or three hunters of the island; we shall gain this--that if the
island is occupied, the scouts, seeing no
bark upon the shore, will never imagine we can escape, and will cease to watch."
"I understand." "Well! that weakness in the legs?"
"Oh! better, much, just now."
"You see, then, plainly, that everything conspires to give us quietude and hope.
D'Artagnan will sweep the sea and leave us free.
No royal fleet or descent to be dreaded.
Vive Dieu!
Porthos, we have still half a century of magnificent adventure before us, and if I
once touch Spanish ground, I swear to you," added the bishop with terrible energy,
"that your brevet of duke is not such a chance as it is said to be."
"We live by hope," said Porthos, enlivened by the warmth of his companion.
All at once a cry resounded in their ears: "To arms! to arms!"
This cry, repeated by a hundred throats, piercing the chamber where the two friends
were conversing, carried surprise to one, and uneasiness to the other.
Aramis opened the window; he saw a crowd of people running with flambeaux.
Women were seeking places of safety, the armed population were hastening to their
posts.
"The fleet! the fleet!" cried a soldier, who recognized Aramis.
"The fleet?" repeated the latter. "Within half cannon-shot," continued the
soldier.
"To arms!" cried Aramis. "To arms!" repeated Porthos, formidably.
And both rushed forth towards the mole to place themselves within the shelter of the
batteries.
Boats, laden with soldiers, were seen approaching; and in three directions, for
the purpose of landing at three points at once.
"What must be done?" said an officer of the guard.
"Stop them; and if they persist, fire!" said Aramis.
Five minutes later, the cannonade commenced.
These were the shots that D'Artagnan had heard as he landed in France.
But the boats were too near the mole to allow the cannon to aim correctly.
They landed, and the combat commenced hand to hand.
"What's the matter, Porthos?" said Aramis to his friend.
"Nothing! nothing!--only my legs; it is really incomprehensible!--they will be
better when we charge."
In fact, Porthos and Aramis did charge with such vigor, and so thoroughly animated
their men, that the royalists re-embarked precipitately, without gaining anything but
the wounds they carried away.
"Eh! but Porthos," cried Aramis, "we must have a prisoner, quick! quick!"
Porthos bent over the stair of the mole, and seized by the nape of the neck one of
the officers of the royal army who was waiting to embark till all his people
should be in the boat.
The arm of the giant lifted up his prey, which served him as a buckler, and he
recovered himself without a shot being fired at him.
"Here is a prisoner for you," said Porthos coolly to Aramis.
"Well!" cried the latter, laughing, "did you not calumniate your legs?"
"It was not with my legs I captured him," said Porthos, "it was with my arms!"
>
CHAPTER XLVI.
The Son of Biscarrat.
The Bretons of the Isle were very proud of
this victory; Aramis did not encourage them
in the feeling.
"What will happen," said he to Porthos,
when everybody was gone home, "will be that
the anger of the king will be roused by the
account of the resistance; and that these
brave people will be decimated or shot when
they are taken, which cannot fail to take
place."
"From which it results, then," said
Porthos, "that what we have done is of not
the slightest use."
"For the moment it may be," replied the
bishop, "for we have a prisoner from whom
we shall learn what our enemies are
preparing to do."
"Yes, let us interrogate the prisoner,"
said Porthos, "and the means of making him
speak are very simple.
We are going to supper; we will invite him
to join us; as he drinks he will talk."
This was done.
The officer was at first rather uneasy, but
became reassured on seeing what sort of men
he had to deal with.
He gave, without having any fear of
compromising himself, all the details
imaginable of the resignation and departure
of D'Artagnan.
He explained how, after that departure, the
new leader of the expedition had ordered a
surprise upon Belle-Isle.
There his explanations stopped.
Aramis and Porthos exchanged a glance that
evinced their despair.
No more dependence to be placed now on
D'Artagnan's fertile imagination--no
further resource in the event of defeat.
Aramis, continuing his interrogations,
asked the prisoner what the leaders of the
expedition contemplated doing with the
leaders of Belle-Isle.
"The orders are," replied he, "to kill
during combat, or hang afterwards."
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other
again, and the color mounted to their
faces.
"I am too light for the gallows," replied
Aramis; "people like me are not hung."
"And I am too heavy," said Porthos; "people
like me break the cord."
"I am sure," said the prisoner, gallantly,
"that we could have guaranteed you the
exact kind of death you preferred."
"A thousand thanks!" said Aramis,
seriously.
Porthos bowed.
"One more cup of wine to your health," said
he, drinking himself.
From one subject to another the chat with
the officer was prolonged.
He was an intelligent gentleman, and
suffered himself to be led on by the charm
of Aramis's wit and Porthos's cordial
bonhomie.
"Pardon me," said he, "if I address a
question to you; but men who are in their
sixth bottle have a clear right to forget
themselves a little."
"Address it!" cried Porthos; "address it!"
"Speak," said Aramis.
"Were you not, gentlemen, both in the
musketeers of the late king?"
"Yes, monsieur, and amongst the best of
them, if you please," said Porthos.
"That is true; I should say even the best
of all soldiers, messieurs, if I did not
fear to offend the memory of my father."
"Of your father?" cried Aramis.
"Do you know what my name is?"
"Ma foi! no, monsieur; but you can tell us,
and--"
"I am called Georges de Biscarrat."
"Oh!" cried Porthos, in his turn.
"Biscarrat!
Do you remember that name, Aramis?"
"Biscarrat!" reflected the bishop.
"It seems to me--"
"Try to recollect, monsieur," said the
officer.
"Pardieu! that won't take me long," said
"Biscarrat--called Cardinal--one of the
four who interrupted us on the day on which
we formed our friendship with D'Artagnan,
sword in hand."
"Precisely, gentlemen."
"The only one," cried Aramis, eagerly, "we
could not scratch."
"Consequently, a capital blade?" said the
prisoner.
"That's true! most true!" exclaimed both
friends together.
"Ma foi!
Monsieur Biscarrat, we are delighted to
make the acquaintance of such a brave man's
son."
Biscarrat pressed the hands held out by the
two musketeers.
Aramis looked at Porthos as much as to say,
"Here is a man who will help us," and
without delay,--"Confess, monsieur," said
he, "that it is good to have once been a
good man."
"My father always said so, monsieur."
"Confess, likewise, that it is a sad
circumstance in which you find yourself, of
falling in with men destined to be shot or
hung, and to learn that these men are old
acquaintances, in fact, hereditary
friends."
"Oh! you are not reserved for such a
frightful fate as that, messieurs and
friends!" said the young man, warmly.
"Bah! you said so yourself."
"I said so just now, when I did not know
you; but now that I know you, I say--you
will evade this dismal fate, if you wish!"
"How--if we wish?" echoed Aramis, whose
eyes beamed with intelligence as he looked
alternately at the prisoner and Porthos.
"Provided," continued Porthos, looking, in
his turn, with noble intrepidity, at M.
Biscarrat and the bishop--"provided nothing
disgraceful be required of us."
"Nothing at all will be required of you,
gentlemen," replied the officer--"what
should they ask of you?
If they find you they will kill you, that
is a predetermined thing; try, then,
gentlemen, to prevent their finding you."
"I don't think I am mistaken," said
Porthos, with dignity; "but it appears
evident to me that if they want to find us,
they must come and seek us here."
"In that you are perfectly right, my worthy
friend," replied Aramis, constantly
consulting with his looks the countenance
of Biscarrat, who had grown silent and
constrained.
"You wish, Monsieur de Biscarrat, to say
something to us, to make us some overture,
and you dare not--is that true?"
"Ah! gentlemen and friends! it is because
by speaking I betray the watchword.
But, hark!
I hear a voice that frees mine by
dominating it."
"Cannon!" said Porthos.
"Cannon and musketry, too!" cried the
bishop.
On hearing at a distance, among the rocks,
these sinister reports of a combat which
they thought had ceased:
"What can that be?" asked Porthos.
"Eh! Pardieu!" cried Aramis; "that is just
what I expected."
"What is that?"
"That the attack made by you was nothing
but a feint; is not that true, monsieur?
And whilst your companions allowed
themselves to be repulsed, you were certain
of effecting a landing on the other side of
the island."
"Oh! several, monsieur."
"We are lost, then," said the bishop of
Vannes, quietly.
"Lost! that is possible," replied the
Seigneur de Pierrefonds, "but we are not
taken or hung."
And so saying, he rose from the table, went
to the wall, and coolly took down his sword
and pistols, which he examined with the
care of an old soldier who is preparing for
battle, and who feels that life, in a great
measure, depends upon the excellence and
right conditions of his arms.
At the report of the cannon, at the news of
the surprise which might deliver up the
island to the royal troops, the terrified
crowd rushed precipitately to the fort to
demand assistance and advice from their
leaders.
Aramis, pale and downcast, between two
flambeaux, showed himself at the window
which looked into the principal court, full
of soldiers waiting for orders and
bewildered inhabitants imploring succor.
"My friends," said D'Herblay, in a grave
and sonorous voice, "M. Fouquet, your
protector, your friend, you father, has
been arrested by an order of the king, and
thrown into the Bastile."
A sustained yell of vengeful fury came
floating up to the window at which the
bishop stood, and enveloped him in a
magnetic field.
"Avenge Monsieur Fouquet!" cried the most
excited of his hearers, "death to the
royalists!"
"No, my friends," replied Aramis, solemnly;
"no, my friends; no resistance.
The king is master in his kingdom.
The king is the mandatory of God.
The king and God have struck M. Fouquet.
Humble yourselves before the hand of God.
Love God and the king, who have struck M.
Fouquet.
But do not avenge your seigneur, do not
think of avenging him.
You would sacrifice yourselves in vain--
you, your wives and children, your
property, your liberty.
Lay down your arms, my friends--lay down
your arms! since the king commands you so
to do--and retire peaceably to your
dwellings.
It is I who ask you to do so; it is I who
beg you to do so; it is I who now, in the
hour of need, command you to do so, in the
name of M. Fouquet."
The crowd collected under the window
uttered a prolonged roar of anger and
terror.
"The soldiers of Louis XIV. have reached
the island," continued Aramis.
"From this time it would no longer be a
fight betwixt them and you--it would be a
massacre.
Begone, then, begone, and forget; this time
I command you, in the name of the Lord of
Hosts!"
The mutineers retired slowly, submissive,
silent.
"Ah! what have you just been saying, my
friend?" said Porthos.
"Monsieur," said Biscarrat to the bishop,
"you may save all these inhabitants, but
thus you will neither save yourself nor
your friend."
"Monsieur de Biscarrat," said the bishop of
Vannes, with a singular accent of nobility
and courtesy, "Monsieur de Biscarrat, be
kind enough to resume your liberty."
"I am very willing to do so, monsieur; but-
-"
"That would render us a service, for when
announcing to the king's lieutenant the
submission of the islanders, you will
perhaps obtain some grace for us on
informing him of the manner in which that
submission has been effected."
"Grace!" replied Porthos with flashing
eyes, "what is the meaning of that word?"
Aramis touched the elbow of his friend
roughly, as he had been accustomed to do in
the days of their youth, when he wanted to
warn Porthos that he had committed, or was
about to commit, a blunder.
Porthos understood him, and was silent
immediately.
"I will go, messieurs," replied Biscarrat,
a little surprised likewise at the word
"grace" pronounced by the haughty
musketeer, of and to whom, but a few
minutes before, he had related with so much
enthusiasm the heroic exploits with which
his father had delighted him.
"Go, then, Monsieur Biscarrat," said
Aramis, bowing to him, "and at parting
receive the expression of our entire
gratitude."
"But you, messieurs, you whom I think it an
honor to call my friends, since you have
been willing to accept that title, what
will become of you in the meantime?"
replied the officer, very much agitated at
taking leave of the two ancient adversaries
of his father.
"We will wait here."
"But, mon Dieu!--the order is precise and
formal."
"I am bishop of Vannes, Monsieur de
Biscarrat; and they no more shoot a bishop
than they hang a gentleman."
"Ah! yes, monsieur--yes, monseigneur,"
replied Biscarrat; "it is true, you are
right, there is still that chance for you.
Then, I will depart, I will repair to the
commander of the expedition, the king's
lieutenant.
Adieu! then, messieurs, or rather, to meet
again, I hope."
The worthy officer, jumping upon a horse
given him by Aramis, departed in the
direction of the sound of cannon, which, by
surging the crowd into the fort, had
interrupted the conversation of the two
friends with their prisoner.
Aramis watched the departure, and when left
alone with Porthos:
"Well, do you comprehend?" said he.
"Ma foi! no."
"Did not Biscarrat inconvenience you here?"
"No; he is a brave fellow."
"Yes; but the grotto of Locmaria--is it
necessary all the world should know it?"
"Ah! that is true, that is true; I
comprehend.
We are going to escape by the cavern."
"If you please," cried Aramis, gayly.
"Forward, friend Porthos; our boat awaits
us.
King Louis has not caught us--yet."
>
CHAPTER XLVII. The Grotto of Locmaria.
The cavern of Locmaria was sufficiently distant from the mole to render it
necessary for our friends to husband their strength in order to reach it.
Besides, night was advancing; midnight had struck at the fort.
Porthos and Aramis were loaded with money and arms.
They walked, then, across the heath, which stretched between the mole and the cavern,
listening to every noise, in order better to avoid an ambush.
From time to time, on the road which they had carefully left on their left, passed
fugitives coming from the interior, at the news of the landing of the royal troops.
Aramis and Porthos, concealed behind some projecting mass of rock, collected the
words that escaped from the poor people, who fled, trembling, carrying with them
their most valuable effects, and tried,
whilst listening to their complaints, to gather something from them for their own
interest.
At length, after a rapid race, frequently interrupted by prudent stoppages, they
reached the deep grottoes, in which the prophetic bishop of Vannes had taken care
to have secreted a bark capable of keeping the sea at this fine season.
"My good friend," said Porthos, panting vigorously, "we have arrived, it seems.
But I thought you spoke of three men, three servants, who were to accompany us.
I don't see them--where are they?" "Why should you see them, Porthos?" replied
Aramis.
"They are certainly waiting for us in the cavern, and, no doubt, are resting, having
accomplished their rough and difficult task."
Aramis stopped Porthos, who was preparing to enter the cavern.
"Will you allow me, my friend," said he to the giant, "to pass in first?
I know the signal I have given to these men; who, not hearing it, would be very
likely to fire upon you or slash away with their knives in the dark."
"Go on, then, Aramis; go on--go first; you impersonate wisdom and foresight; go.
Ah! there is that fatigue again, of which I spoke to you.
It has just seized me afresh."
Aramis left Porthos sitting at the entrance of the grotto, and bowing his head, he
penetrated into the interior of the cavern, imitating the cry of the owl.
A little plaintive cooing, a scarcely distinct echo, replied from the depths of
the cave.
Aramis pursued his way cautiously, and soon was stopped by the same kind of cry as he
had first uttered, within ten paces of him. "Are you there, Yves?" said the bishop.
"Yes, monseigneur; Goenne is here likewise.
His son accompanies us." "That is well.
Are all things ready?" "Yes, monseigneur."
"Go to the entrance of the grottoes, my good Yves, and you will there find the
Seigneur de Pierrefonds, who is resting after the fatigue of our journey.
And if he should happen not to be able to walk, lift him up, and bring him hither to
me." The three men obeyed.
But the recommendation given to his servants was superfluous.
Porthos, refreshed, had already commenced the descent, and his heavy step resounded
amongst the cavities, formed and supported by columns of porphyry and granite.
As soon as the Seigneur de Bracieux had rejoined the bishop, the Bretons lighted a
lantern with which they were furnished, and Porthos assured his friend that he felt as
strong again as ever.
"Let us inspect the boat," said Aramis, "and satisfy ourselves at once what it will
hold."
"Do not go too near with the light," said the patron Yves; "for as you desired me,
monseigneur, I have placed under the bench of the poop, in the coffer you know of, the
barrel of powder, and the musket-charges that you sent me from the fort."
"Very well," said Aramis; and, taking the lantern himself, he examined minutely all
parts of the canoe, with the precautions of a man who is neither timid nor ignorant in
the face of danger.
The canoe was long, light, drawing little water, thin of keel; in short, one of those
that have always been so aptly built at Belle-Isle; a little high in its sides,
solid upon the water, very manageable,
furnished with planks which, in uncertain weather, formed a sort of deck over which
the waves might glide, so as to protect the rowers.
In two well-closed coffers, placed beneath the benches of the prow and the poop,
Aramis found bread, biscuit, dried fruits, a quarter of bacon, a good provision of
water in leathern bottles; the whole
forming rations sufficient for people who did not mean to quit the coast, and would
be able to revictual, if necessity commanded.
The arms, eight muskets, and as many horse- pistols, were in good condition, and all
loaded.
There were additional oars, in case of accident, and that little sail called
trinquet, which assists the speed of the canoe at the same time the boatmen row, and
is so useful when the breeze is slack.
When Aramis had seen to all these things, and appeared satisfied with the result of
his inspection, "Let us consult Porthos," said he, "to know if we must endeavor to
get the boat out by the unknown extremity
of the grotto, following the descent and the shade of the cavern, or whether it be
better, in the open air, to make it slide upon its rollers through the bushes,
leveling the road of the little beach,
which is but twenty feet high, and gives, at high tide, three or four fathoms of good
water upon a sound bottom."
"It must be as you please, monseigneur," replied the skipper Yves, respectfully;
"but I don't believe that by the slope of the cavern, and in the dark in which we
shall be obliged to maneuver our boat, the road will be so convenient as the open air.
I know the beach well, and can certify that it is as smooth as a grass-plot in a
garden; the interior of the grotto, on the contrary, is rough; without reckoning,
monseigneur, that at its extremity we shall
come to the trench which leads into the sea, and perhaps the canoe will not pass
down it." "I have made my calculation," said the
bishop, "and I am certain it will pass."
"So be it; I wish it may, monseigneur," continued Yves; "but your highness knows
very well that to make it reach the extremity of the trench, there is an
enormous stone to be lifted--that under
which the fox always passes, and which closes the trench like a door."
"It can be raised," said Porthos; "that is nothing."
"Oh! I know that monseigneur has the strength of ten men," replied Yves; "but
that is giving him a great deal of trouble."
"I think the skipper may be right," said Aramis; "let us try the open-air passage."
"The more so, monseigneur," continued the fisherman, "that we should not be able to
embark before day, it will require so much labor, and that as soon as daylight
appears, a good vedette placed outside the
grotto would be necessary, indispensable even, to watch the maneuvers of the
lighters or cruisers that are on the look- out for us."
"Yes, yes, Yves, your reasons are good; we will go by the beach."
And the three robust Bretons went to the boat, and were beginning to place their
rollers underneath it to put it in motion, when the distant barking of dogs was heard,
proceeding from the interior of the island.
Aramis darted out of the grotto, followed by Porthos.
Dawn just tinted with purple and white the waves and plain; through the dim light,
melancholy fir-trees waved their tender branches over the pebbles, and long flights
of crows were skimming with their black wings the shimmering fields of buckwheat.
In a quarter of an hour it would be clear daylight; the wakened birds announced it to
all nature.
The barkings which had been heard, which had stopped the three fishermen engaged in
moving the boat, and had brought Aramis and Porthos out of the cavern, now seemed to
come from a deep gorge within about a league of the grotto.
"It is a pack of hounds," said Porthos; "the dogs are on a scent."
"Who can be hunting at such a moment as this?" said Aramis.
"And this way, particularly," continued Porthos, "where they might expect the army
of the royalists."
"The noise comes nearer. Yes, you are right, Porthos, the dogs are
on a scent. But, Yves!" cried Aramis, "come here! come
here!"
Yves ran towards him, letting fall the cylinder which he was about to place under
the boat when the bishop's call interrupted him.
"What is the meaning of this hunt, skipper?" said Porthos.
"Eh! monseigneur, I cannot understand it," replied the Breton.
"It is not at such a moment that the Seigneur de Locmaria would hunt.
No, and yet the dogs--" "Unless they have escaped from the kennel."
"No," said Goenne, "they are not the Seigneur de Locmaria's hounds."
"In common prudence," said Aramis, "let us go back into the grotto; the voices
evidently draw nearer, we shall soon know what we have to trust to."
They re-entered, but had scarcely proceeded a hundred steps in the darkness, when a
noise like the hoarse sigh of a creature in distress resounded through the cavern, and
breathless, rapid, terrified, a fox passed
like a flash of lightning before the fugitives, leaped over the boat and
disappeared, leaving behind its sour scent, which was perceptible for several seconds
under the low vaults of the cave.
"The fox!" cried the Bretons, with the glad surprise of born hunters.
"Accursed mischance!" cried the bishop, "our retreat is discovered."
"How so?" said Porthos; "are you afraid of a fox?"
"Eh! my friend, what do you mean by that? why do you specify the fox?
It is not the fox alone.
Pardieu! But don't you know, Porthos, that after the
foxes come hounds, and after hounds men?" Porthos hung his head.
As though to confirm the words of Aramis, they heard the yelping pack approach with
frightful swiftness upon the trail. Six foxhounds burst at once upon the little
heath, with mingling yelps of triumph.
"There are the dogs, plain enough!" said Aramis, posted on the look-out behind a
*** in the rocks; "now, who are the huntsmen?"
"If it is the Seigneur de Locmaria's," replied the sailor, "he will leave the dogs
to hunt the grotto, for he knows them, and will not enter in himself, being quite sure
that the fox will come out the other side; it is there he will wait for him."
"It is not the Seigneur de Locmaria who is hunting," replied Aramis, turning pale in
spite of his efforts to maintain a placid countenance.
"Who is it, then?" said Porthos.
"Look!"
Porthos applied his eye to the slit, and saw at the summit of a hillock a dozen
horsemen urging on their horses in the track of the dogs, shouting, "Taiaut!
taiaut!"
"The guards!" said he. "Yes, my friend, the king's guards."
"The king's guards! do you say, monseigneur?" cried the Bretons, growing
pale in turn.
"With Biscarrat at their head, mounted upon my gray horse," continued Aramis.
The hounds at the same moment rushed into the grotto like an avalanche, and the
depths of the cavern were filled with their deafening cries.
"Ah! the devil!" said Aramis, resuming all his coolness at the sight of this certain,
inevitable danger. "I am perfectly satisfied we are lost, but
we have, at least, one chance left.
If the guards who follow their hounds happen to discover there is an issue to the
grotto, there is no help for us, for on entering they must see both ourselves and
our boat.
The dogs must not go out of the cavern. Their masters must not enter."
"That is clear," said Porthos.
"You understand," added Aramis, with the rapid precision of command; "there are six
dogs that will be forced to stop at the great stone under which the fox has glided-
-but at the too narrow opening of which
they must be themselves stopped and killed."
The Bretons sprang forward, knife in hand.
In a few minutes there was a lamentable concert of angry barks and mortal howls--
and then, silence. "That's well!" said Aramis, coolly, "now
for the masters!"
"What is to be done with them?" said Porthos.
"Wait their arrival, conceal ourselves, and kill them."
"Kill them!" replied Porthos.
"There are sixteen," said Aramis, "at least, at present."
"And well armed," added Porthos, with a smile of consolation.
"It will last about ten minutes," said Aramis.
"To work!"
And with a resolute air he took up a musket, and placed a hunting-knife between
his teeth. "Yves, Goenne, and his son," continued
Aramis, "will pass the muskets to us.
You, Porthos, will fire when they are close.
We shall have brought down, at the lowest computation, eight, before the others are
aware of anything--that is certain; then all, there are five of us, will dispatch
the other eight, knife in hand."
"And poor Biscarrat?" said Porthos. Aramis reflected a moment--"Biscarrat
first," replied he, coolly. "He knows us."
>
CHAPTER XLVIII. The Grotto.
In spite of the sort of divination which was the remarkable side of the character of
Aramis, the event, subject to the risks of things over which uncertainty presides, did
not fall out exactly as the bishop of Vannes had foreseen.
Biscarrat, better mounted than his companions, arrived first at the opening of
the grotto, and comprehended that fox and hounds were one and all engulfed in it.
Only, struck by that superstitious terror which every dark and subterraneous way
naturally impresses upon the mind of man, he stopped at the outside of the grotto,
and waited till his companions should have assembled round him.
"Well!" asked the young men, coming up, out of breath, and unable to understand the
meaning of this inaction.
"Well! I cannot hear the dogs; they and the fox
must all be lost in this infernal cavern." "They were too close up," said one of the
guards, "to have lost scent all at once.
Besides, we should hear them from one side or another.
They must, as Biscarrat says, be in this grotto."
"But then," said one of the young men, "why don't they give tongue?"
"It is strange!" muttered another. "Well, but," said a fourth, "let us go into
this grotto.
Does it happen to be forbidden we should enter it?"
"No," replied Biscarrat. "Only, as it looks as dark as a wolf's
mouth, we might break our necks in it."
"Witness the dogs," said a guard, "who seem to have broken theirs."
"What the devil can have become of them?" asked the young men in chorus.
And every master called his dog by his name, whistled to him in his favorite mode,
without a single one replying to either call or whistle.
"It is perhaps an enchanted grotto," said Biscarrat; "let us see."
And, jumping from his horse, he made a step into the grotto.
"Stop! stop!
I will accompany you," said one of the guards, on seeing Biscarrat disappear in
the shades of the cavern's mouth.
"No," replied Biscarrat, "there must be something extraordinary in the place--don't
let us risk ourselves all at once. If in ten minutes you do not hear of me,
you can come in, but not all at once."
"Be it so," said the young man, who, besides, did not imagine that Biscarrat ran
much risk in the enterprise, "we will wait for you."
And without dismounting from their horses, they formed a circle round the grotto.
Biscarrat entered then alone, and advanced through the darkness till he came in
contact with the muzzle of Porthos's musket.
The resistance which his chest met with astonished him; he naturally raised his
hand and laid hold of the icy barrel.
At the same instant, Yves lifted a knife against the young man, which was about to
fall upon him with all force of a Breton's arm, when the iron wrist of Porthos stopped
it half-way.
Then, like low muttering thunder, his voice growled in the darkness, "I will not have
him killed!"
Biscarrat found himself between a protection and a threat, the one almost as
terrible as the other.
However brave the young man might be, he could not prevent a cry escaping him, which
Aramis immediately suppressed by placing a handkerchief over his mouth.
"Monsieur de Biscarrat," said he, in a low voice, "we mean you no harm, and you must
know that if you have recognized us; but, at the first word, the first groan, the
first whisper, we shall be forced to kill you as we have killed your dogs."
"Yes, I recognize you, gentlemen," said the officer, in a low voice.
"But why are you here--what are you doing, here?
Unfortunate men! I thought you were in the fort."
"And you, monsieur, you were to obtain conditions for us, I think?"
"I did all I was able, messieurs, but--" "But what?"
"But there are positive orders."
"To kill us?" Biscarrat made no reply.
It would have cost him too much to speak of the cord to gentlemen.
Aramis understood the silence of the prisoner.
"Monsieur Biscarrat," said he, "you would be already dead if we had not regard for
your youth and our ancient association with your father; but you may yet escape from
the place by swearing that you will not tell your companions what you have seen."
"I will not only swear that I will not speak of it," said Biscarrat, "but I still
further swear that I will do everything in the world to prevent my companions from
setting foot in the grotto."
"Biscarrat! Biscarrat!" cried several voices from the
outside, coming like a whirlwind into the cave.
"Reply," said Aramis.
"Here I am!" cried Biscarrat. "Now, begone; we depend on your loyalty."
And he left his hold of the young man, who hastily returned towards the light.
"Biscarrat!
Biscarrat!" cried the voices, still nearer. And the shadows of several human forms
projected into the interior of the grotto.
Biscarrat rushed to meet his friends in order to stop them, and met them just as
they were adventuring into the cave.
Aramis and Porthos listened with the intense attention of men whose life depends
upon a breath of air. "Oh! oh!" exclaimed one of the guards, as
he came to the light, "how pale you are!"
"Pale!" cried another; "you ought to say corpse-color."
"I!" said the young man, endeavoring to collect his faculties.
"In the name of Heaven! what has happened?" exclaimed all the voices.
"You have not a drop of blood in your veins, my poor friend," said one of them,
laughing.
"Messieurs, it is serious," said another, "he is going to faint; does any one of you
happen to have any salts?" And they all laughed.
This hail of jests fell round Biscarrat's ears like musket-balls in a melee.
He recovered himself amidst a deluge of interrogations.
"What do you suppose I have seen?" asked he.
"I was too hot when I entered the grotto, and I have been struck with a chill.
That is all."
"But the dogs, the dogs; have you seen them again--did you see anything of them--do you
know anything about them?" "I suppose they have got out some other
way."
"Messieurs," said one of the young men, "there is in that which is going on, in the
paleness and silence of our friend, a mystery which Biscarrat will not, or cannot
reveal.
Only, and this is certain, Biscarrat has seen something in the grotto.
Well, for my part, I am very curious to see what it is, even if it is the devil!
To the grotto! messieurs, to the grotto!"
"To the grotto!" repeated all the voices. And the echo of the cavern carried like a
menace to Porthos and Aramis, "To the grotto! to the grotto!"
Biscarrat threw himself before his companions.
"Messieurs! messieurs!" cried he, "in the name of Heaven! do not go in!"
"Why, what is there so terrific in the cavern?" asked several at once.
"Come, speak, Biscarrat."
"Decidedly, it is the devil he has seen," repeated he who had before advanced that
hypothesis.
"Well," said another, "if he has seen him, he need not be selfish; he may as well let
us have a look at him in turn." "Messieurs! messieurs!
I beseech you," urged Biscarrat.
"Nonsense! Let us pass!"
"Messieurs, I implore you not to enter!" "Why, you went in yourself."
Then one of the officers, who--of a riper age than the others--had till this time
remained behind, and had said nothing, advanced.
"Messieurs," said he, with a calmness which contrasted with the animation of the young
men, "there is in there some person, or something, that is not the devil; but
which, whatever it may be, has had sufficient power to silence our dogs.
We must discover who this some one is, or what this something is."
Biscarrat made a last effort to stop his friends, but it was useless.
In vain he threw himself before the rashest; in vain he clung to the rocks to
bar the passage; the crowd of young men rushed into the cave, in the steps of the
officer who had spoken last, but who had
sprung in first, sword in hand, to face the unknown danger.
Biscarrat, repulsed by his friends, unable to accompany them, without passing in the
eyes of Porthos and Aramis for a traitor and a perjurer, with painfully attentive
ear and unconsciously supplicating hands
leaned against the rough side of a rock which he thought must be exposed to the
fire of the musketeers.
As to the guards, they penetrated further and further, with exclamations that grew
fainter as they advanced.
All at once, a discharge of musketry, growling like thunder, exploded in the
entrails of the vault. Two or three balls were flattened against
the rock on which Biscarrat was leaning.
At the same instant, cries, shrieks, imprecations burst forth, and the little
troop of gentlemen reappeared--some pale, some bleeding--all enveloped in a cloud of
smoke, which the outer air seemed to suck from the depths of the cavern.
Biscarrat!" cried the fugitives, "you knew there was an ambuscade in that cavern, and
you did not warn us! Biscarrat, you are the cause that four of
us are murdered men!
Woe be to you, Biscarrat!"
"You are the cause of my being wounded unto death," said one of the young men, letting
a gush of scarlet life-blood vomit in his palm, and spattering it into Biscarrat's
livid face.
"My blood be on your head!" And he rolled in agony at the feet of the
young man. "But, at least, tell us who is there?"
cried several furious voices.
Biscarrat remained silent. "Tell us, or die!" cried the wounded man,
raising himself upon one knee, and lifting towards his companion an arm bearing a
useless sword.
Biscarrat rushed towards him, opening his breast for the blow, but the wounded man
fell back not to rise again, uttering a groan which was his last.
Biscarrat, with hair on end, haggard eyes, and bewildered head, advanced towards the
interior of the cavern, saying, "You are right.
Death to me, who have allowed my comrades to be assassinated.
I am a worthless wretch!"
And throwing away his sword, for he wished to die without defending himself, he rushed
head foremost into the cavern. The others followed him.
The eleven who remained out of sixteen imitated his example; but they did not go
further than the first.
A second discharge laid five upon the icy sand; and as it was impossible to see
whence this murderous thunder issued, the others fell back with a terror that can be
better imagined than described.
But, far from flying, as the others had done, Biscarrat remained safe and sound,
seated on a fragment of rock, and waited. There were only six gentlemen left.
"Seriously," said one of the survivors, "is it the devil?"
"Ma foi! it is much worse," said another. "Ask Biscarrat, he knows."
"Where is Biscarrat?"
The young men looked round them, and saw that Biscarrat did not answer.
"He is dead!" said two or three voices.
"Oh! no!" replied another, "I saw him through the smoke, sitting quietly on a
rock. He is in the cavern; he is waiting for us."
"He must know who are there."
"And how should he know them?" "He was taken prisoner by the rebels."
"That is true. Well! let us call him, and learn from him
whom we have to deal with."
And all voices shouted, "Biscarrat! Biscarrat!"
But Biscarrat did not answer. "Good!" said the officer who had shown so
much coolness in the affair.
"We have no longer any need of him; here are reinforcements coming."
In fact, a company of guards, left in the rear by their officers, whom the ardor of
the chase had carried away--from seventy- five to eighty men--arrived in good order,
led by their captain and the first lieutenant.
The five officers hastened to meet their soldiers; and, in language the eloquence of
which may be easily imagined, they related the adventure, and asked for aid.
The captain interrupted them.
"Where are your companions?" demanded he. "Dead!"
"But there were sixteen of you!" "Ten are dead.
Biscarrat is in the cavern, and we are five."
"Biscarrat is a prisoner?" "Probably."
"No, for here he is--look."
In fact, Biscarrat appeared at the opening of the grotto.
"He is making a sign to come on," said the officer.
"Come on!"
"Come on!" cried all the troop. And they advanced to meet Biscarrat.
"Monsieur," said the captain, addressing Biscarrat, "I am assured that you know who
the men are in that grotto, and who make such a desperate defense.
In the king's name I command you to declare what you know."
"Captain," said Biscarrat, "you have no need to command me.
My word has been restored to me this very instant; and I came in the name of these
men." "To tell me who they are?"
"To tell you they are determined to defend themselves to the death, unless you grant
them satisfactory terms." "How many are there of them, then?"
"There are two," said Biscarrat.
"There are two--and want to impose conditions upon us?"
"There are two, and they have already killed ten of our men."
"What sort of people are they--giants?"
"Worse than that. Do you remember the history of the Bastion
Saint-Gervais, captain?" "Yes; where four musketeers held out
against an army."
"Well, these are two of those same musketeers."
"And their names?" "At that period they were called Porthos
and Aramis.
Now they are styled M. d'Herblay and M. du Vallon."
"And what interest have they in all this?" "It is they who were holding Bell-Isle for
M. Fouquet."
A murmur ran through the ranks of the soldiers on hearing the two words "Porthos
and Aramis." "The musketeers! the musketeers!" repeated
they.
And among all these brave men, the idea that they were going to have a struggle
against two of the oldest glories of the French army, made a shiver, half
enthusiasm, two-thirds terror, run through them.
In fact, those four names--D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis--were venerated
among all who wore a sword; as, in antiquity, the names of Hercules, Theseus,
Castor, and Pollux were venerated.
"Two men--and they have killed ten in two discharges!
It is impossible, Monsieur Biscarrat!"
"Eh! captain," replied the latter, "I do not tell you that they have not with them
two or three men, as the musketeers of the Bastion Saint-Gervais had two or three
lackeys; but, believe me, captain, I have
seen these men, I have been taken prisoner by them--I know they themselves alone are
all-sufficient to destroy an army." "That we shall see," said the captain, "and
that in a moment, too.
Gentlemen, attention!" At this reply, no one stirred, and all
prepared to obey. Biscarrat alone risked a last attempt.
"Monsieur," said he, in a low voice, "be persuaded by me; let us pass on our way.
Those two men, those two lions you are going to attack, will defend themselves to
the death.
They have already killed ten of our men; they will kill double the number, and end
by killing themselves rather than surrender.
What shall we gain by fighting them?"
"We shall gain the consciousness, monsieur, of not having allowed eighty of the king's
guards to retire before two rebels.
If I listened to your advice, monsieur, I should be a dishonored man; and by
dishonoring myself I should dishonor the army.
Forward, my men!"
And he marched first as far as the opening of the grotto.
There he halted.
The object of this halt was to give Biscarrat and his companions time to
describe to him the interior of the grotto.
Then, when he believed he had a sufficient acquaintance with the place, he divided his
company into three bodies, which were to enter successively, keeping up a sustained
fire in all directions.
No doubt, in this attack they would lose five more, perhaps ten; but, certainly,
they must end by taking the rebels, since there was no issue; and, at any rate, two
men could not kill eighty.
"Captain," said Biscarrat, "I beg to be allowed to march at the head of the first
platoon." "So be it," replied the captain; "you have
all the honor.
I make you a present of it." "Thanks!" replied the young man, with all
the firmness of his race. "Take your sword, then."
"I shall go as I am, captain," said Biscarrat, "for I do not go to kill, I go
to be killed."
And placing himself at the head of the first platoon, with head uncovered and arms
crossed,--"March, gentlemen," said he.
>
CHAPTER XLIX. An Homeric Song.
It is time to pass to the other camp, and to describe at once the combatants and the
field of battle.
Aramis and Porthos had gone to the grotto of Locmaria with the expectation of finding
there their canoe ready armed, as well as the three Bretons, their assistants; and
they at first hoped to make the bark pass
through the little issue of the cavern, concealing in that fashion both their
labors and their flight. The arrival of the fox and dogs obliged
them to remain concealed.
The grotto extended the space of about a hundred toises, to that little slope
dominating a creek.
Formerly a temple of the Celtic divinities, when Belle-Isle was still called Kalonese,
this grotto had beheld more than one human sacrifice accomplished in its mystic
depths.
The first entrance to the cavern was by a moderate descent, above which distorted
rocks formed a weird arcade; the interior, very uneven and dangerous from the
inequalities of the vault, was subdivided
into several compartments, which communicated with each other by means of
rough and jagged steps, fixed right and left, in uncouth natural pillars.
At the third compartment the vault was so low, the passage so narrow, that the bark
would scarcely have passed without touching the side; nevertheless, in moments of
despair, wood softens and stone grows flexible beneath the human will.
Such was the thought of Aramis, when, after having fought the fight, he decided upon
flight--a flight most dangerous, since all the assailants were not dead; and that,
admitting the possibility of putting the
bark to sea, they would have to fly in open day, before the conquered, so interested on
recognizing their small number, in pursuing their conquerors.
When the two discharges had killed ten men, Aramis, familiar with the windings of the
cavern, went to reconnoiter them one by one, and counted them, for the smoke
prevented seeing outside; and he
immediately commanded that the canoe should be rolled as far as the great stone, the
closure of the liberating issue.
Porthos collected all his strength, took the canoe in his arms, and raised it up,
whilst the Bretons made it run rapidly along the rollers.
They had descended into the third compartment; they had arrived at the stone
which walled the outlet.
Porthos seized this gigantic stone at its base, applied his robust shoulder, and gave
a heave which made the wall crack.
A cloud of dust fell from the vault, with the ashes of ten thousand generations of
sea birds, whose nests stuck like cement to the rock.
At the third shock the stone gave way, and oscillated for a minute.
Porthos, placing his back against the neighboring rock, made an arch with his
foot, which drove the block out of the calcareous masses which served for hinges
and cramps.
The stone fell, and daylight was visible, brilliant, radiant, flooding the cavern
through the opening, and the blue sea appeared to the delighted Bretons.
They began to lift the bark over the barricade.
Twenty more toises, and it would glide into the ocean.
It was during this time that the company arrived, was drawn up by the captain, and
disposed for either an escalade or an assault.
Aramis watched over everything, to favor the labors of his friends.
He saw the reinforcements, counted the men, and convinced himself at a single glance of
the insurmountable peril to which fresh combat would expose them.
To escape by sea, at the moment the cavern was about to be invaded, was impossible.
In fact, the daylight which had just been admitted to the last compartments had
exposed to the soldiers the bark being rolled towards the sea, the two rebels
within musket-shot; and one of their
discharges would riddle the boat if it did not kill the navigators.
Besides, allowing everything,--if the bark escaped with the men on board of it, how
could the alarm be suppressed--how could notice to the royal lighters be prevented?
What could hinder the poor canoe, followed by sea and watched from the shore, from
succumbing before the end of the day?
Aramis, digging his hands into his gray hair with rage, invoked the assistance of
God and the assistance of the demons.
Calling to Porthos, who was doing more work than all the rollers--whether of flesh or
wood--"My friend," said he, "our adversaries have just received a
reinforcement."
"Ah, ah!" said Porthos, quietly, "what is to be done, then?"
"To recommence the combat," said Aramis, "is hazardous."
"Yes," said Porthos, "for it is difficult to suppose that out of two, one should not
be killed; and certainly, if one of us was killed, the other would get himself killed
also."
Porthos spoke these words with that heroic nature which, with him, grew grander with
necessity. Aramis felt it like a spur to his heart.
"We shall neither of us be killed if you do what I tell you, friend Porthos."
"Tell me what?" "These people are coming down into the
grotto."
"Yes." "We could kill about fifteen of them, but
no more." "How many are there in all?" asked Porthos.
"They have received a reinforcement of seventy-five men."
"Seventy-five and five, eighty. Ah!" sighed Porthos.
"If they fire all at once they will riddle us with balls."
"Certainly they will."
"Without reckoning," added Aramis, "that the detonation might occasion a collapse of
the cavern." "Ay," said Porthos, "a piece of falling
rock just now grazed my shoulder."
"You see, then?" "Oh! it is nothing."
"We must determine upon something quickly. Our Bretons are going to continue to roll
the canoe towards the sea."
"Very well." "We two will keep the powder, the balls,
and the muskets here."
"But only two, my dear Aramis--we shall never fire three shots together," said
Porthos, innocently, "the defense by musketry is a bad one."
"Find a better, then."
"I have found one," said the giant, eagerly; "I will place myself in ambuscade
behind the pillar with this iron bar, and invisible, unattackable, if they come in
floods, I can let my bar fall upon their skulls, thirty times in a minute.
Hein! what do you think of the project? You smile!"
"Excellent, dear friend, perfect!
I approve it greatly; only you will frighten them, and half of them will remain
outside to take us by famine. What we want, my good friend, is the entire
destruction of the troop.
A single survivor encompasses our ruin." "You are right, my friend, but how can we
attract them, pray?" "By not stirring, my good Porthos."
"Well! we won't stir, then; but when they are all together--"
"Then leave it to me, I have an idea."
"If it is so, and your idea proves a good one--and your idea is most likely to be
good--I am satisfied." "To your ambuscade, Porthos, and count how
many enter."
"But you, what will you do?" "Don't trouble yourself about me; I have a
task to perform." "I think I hear shouts."
"It is they!
To your post. Keep within reach of my voice and hand."
Porthos took refuge in the second compartment, which was in darkness,
absolutely black.
Aramis glided into the third; the giant held in his hand an iron bar of about fifty
pounds weight.
Porthos handled this lever, which had been used in rolling the bark, with marvelous
facility. During this time, the Bretons had pushed
the bark to the beach.
In the further and lighter compartment, Aramis, stooping and concealed, was busy
with some mysterious maneuver. A command was given in a loud voice.
It was the last order of the captain commandant.
Twenty-five men jumped from the upper rocks into the first compartment of the grotto,
and having taken their ground, began to fire.
The echoes shrieked and barked, the hissing balls seemed actually to rarefy the air,
and then opaque smoke filled the vault.
"To the left! to the left!" cried Biscarrat, who, in his first assault, had
seen the passage to the second chamber, and who, animated by the smell of powder,
wished to guide his soldiers in that direction.
The troop, accordingly, precipitated themselves to the left--the passage
gradually growing narrower.
Biscarrat, with his hands stretched forward, devoted to death, marched in
advance of the muskets. "Come on! come on!" exclaimed he, "I see
daylight!"
"Strike, Porthos!" cried the sepulchral voice of Aramis.
Porthos breathed a heavy sigh--but he obeyed.
The iron bar fell full and direct upon the head of Biscarrat, who was dead before he
had ended his cry. Then the formidable lever rose ten times in
ten seconds, and made ten corpses.
The soldiers could see nothing; they heard sighs and groans; they stumbled over dead
bodies, but as they had no conception of the cause of all this, they came forward
jostling each other.
The implacable bar, still falling, annihilated the first platoon, without a
single sound to warn the second, which was quietly advancing; only, commanded by the
captain, the men had stripped a fir,
growing on the shore, and, with its resinous branches twisted together, the
captain had made a flambeau.
On arriving at the compartment where Porthos, like the exterminating angel, had
destroyed all he touched, the first rank drew back in terror.
No firing had replied to that of the guards, and yet their way was stopped by a
heap of dead bodies--they literally walked in blood.
Porthos was still behind his pillar.
The captain, illumining with trembling pine-torch this frightful carnage, of which
he in vain sought the cause, drew back towards the pillar behind which Porthos was
concealed.
Then a gigantic hand issued from the shade, and fastened on the throat of the captain,
who uttered a stifle rattle; his stretched- out arms beating the air, the torch fell
and was extinguished in blood.
A second after, the corpse of the captain dropped close to the extinguished torch,
and added another body to the heap of dead which blocked up the passage.
All this was effected as mysteriously as though by magic.
At hearing the rattling in the throat of the captain, the soldiers who accompanied
him had turned round, caught a glimpse of his extended arms, his eyes starting from
their sockets, and then the torch fell and they were left in darkness.
From an unreflective, instinctive, mechanical feeling, the lieutenant cried:
"Fire!"
Immediately a volley of musketry flamed, thundered, roared in the cavern, bringing
down enormous fragments from the vaults.
The cavern was lighted for an instant by this discharge, and then immediately
returned to pitchy darkness rendered thicker by the smoke.
To this succeeded a profound silence, broken only by the steps of the third
brigade, now entering the cavern.
>
CHAPTER L: The Death of a Titan.
At the moment when Porthos, more accustomed to the darkness than these men, coming from
open daylight, was looking round him to see if through this artificial midnight Aramis
were not making him some signal, he felt
his arm gently touched, and a voice low as a breath murmured in his ear, "Come."
"Oh!" said Porthos. "Hush!" said Aramis, if possible, yet more
softly.
And amidst the noise of the third brigade, which continued to advance, the
imprecations of the guards still left alive, the muffled groans of the dying,
Aramis and Porthos glided unseen along the granite walls of the cavern.
Aramis led Porthos into the last but one compartment, and showed him, in a hollow of
the rocky wall, a barrel of powder weighing from seventy to eighty pounds, to which he
had just attached a fuse.
"My friend," said he to Porthos, "you will take this barrel, the match of which I am
going to set fire to, and throw it amidst our enemies; can you do so?"
"Parbleu!" replied Porthos; and he lifted the barrel with one hand.
"Light it!"
"Stop," said Aramis, "till they are all massed together, and then, my Jupiter, hurl
your thunderbolt among them." "Light it," repeated Porthos.
"On my part," continued Aramis, "I will join our Bretons, and help them to get the
canoe to the sea. I will wait for you on the shore; launch it
strongly, and hasten to us."
"Light it," said Porthos, a third time. "But do you understand me?"
"Parbleu!" said Porthos again, with laughter that he did not even attempt to
restrain, "when a thing is explained to me I understand it; begone, and give me the
light."
Aramis gave the burning match to Porthos, who held out his arm to him, his hands
being engaged.
Aramis pressed the arm of Porthos with both his hands, and fell back to the outlet of
the cavern where the three rowers awaited him.
Porthos, left alone, applied the spark bravely to the match.
The spark--a feeble spark, first principle of conflagration--shone in the darkness
like a glow-worm, then was deadened against the match which it set fire to, Porthos
enlivening the flame with his breath.
The smoke was a little dispersed, and by the light of the sparkling match objects
might, for two seconds, be distinguished.
It was a brief but splendid spectacle, that of this giant, pale, bloody, his
countenance lighted by the fire of the match burning in surrounding darkness!
The soldiers saw him, they saw the barrel he held in his hand--they at once
understood what was going to happen.
Then, these men, already choked with horror at the sight of what had been accomplished,
filled with terror at thought of what was about to be accomplished, gave out a
simultaneous shriek of agony.
Some endeavored to fly, but they encountered the third brigade, which barred
their passage; others mechanically took aim and attempted to fire their discharged
muskets; others fell instinctively upon their knees.
Two or three officers cried out to Porthos to promise him his liberty if he would
spare their lives.
The lieutenant of the third brigade commanded his men to fire; but the guards
had before them their terrified companions, who served as a living rampart for Porthos.
We have said that the light produced by the spark and the match did not last more than
two seconds; but during these two seconds this is what it illumined: in the first
place, the giant, enlarged in the darkness;
then, at ten paces off, a heap of bleeding bodies, crushed, mutilated, in the midst of
which some still heaved in the last agony, lifting the mass as a last respiration
inflating the sides of some old monster dying in the night.
Every breath of Porthos, thus vivifying the match, sent towards this heap of bodies a
phosphorescent aura, mingled with streaks of purple.
In addition to this principal group scattered about the grotto, as the chances
of death or surprise had stretched them, isolated bodies seemed to be making ghastly
exhibitions of their gaping wounds.
Above ground, bedded in pools of blood, rose, heavy and sparkling, the short, thick
pillars of the cavern, of which the strongly marked shades threw out the
luminous particles.
And all this was seen by the tremulous light of a match attached to a barrel of
powder, that is to say, a torch which, whilst throwing a light on the dead past,
showed death to come.
As I have said, this spectacle did not last above two seconds.
During this short space of time an officer of the third brigade got together eight men
armed with muskets, and, through an opening, ordered them to fire upon Porthos.
But they who received the order to fire trembled so that three guards fell by the
discharge, and the five remaining balls hissed on to splinter the vault, plow the
ground, or indent the pillars of the cavern.
A burst of laughter replied to this volley; then the arm of the giant swung round; then
was seen whirling through the air, like a falling star, the train of fire.
The barrel, hurled a distance of thirty feet, cleared the barricade of dead bodies,
and fell amidst a group of shrieking soldiers, who threw themselves on their
faces.
The officer had followed the brilliant train in the air; he endeavored to
precipitate himself upon the barrel and tear out the match before it reached the
powder it contained.
Useless!
The air had made the flame attached to the conductor more active; the match, which at
rest might have burnt five minutes, was consumed in thirty seconds, and the
infernal work exploded.
Furious vortices of sulphur and nitre, devouring shoals of fire which caught every
object, the terrible thunder of the explosion, this is what the second which
followed disclosed in that cavern of horrors.
The rocks split like planks of deal beneath the axe.
A jet of fire, smoke, and debris sprang from the middle of the grotto, enlarging as
it mounted.
The large walls of silex tottered and fell upon the sand, and the sand itself, an
instrument of pain when launched from its hard bed, riddled the faces with its myriad
cutting atoms.
Shrieks, imprecations, human life, dead bodies--all were engulfed in one terrific
crash.
The three first compartments became one sepulchral sink into which fell grimly
back, in the order of their weight, every vegetable, mineral, or human fragment.
Then the lighter sand and ash came down in turn, stretching like a winding sheet and
smoking over the dismal scene.
And now, in this burning tomb, this subterranean volcano, seek the king's
guards with their blue coats laced with silver.
Seek the officers, brilliant in gold, seek for the arms upon which they depended for
their defense.
One single man has made of all of those things a chaos more confused, more
shapeless, more terrible than the chaos which existed before the creation of the
world.
There remained nothing of the three compartments--nothing by which God could
have recognized His handiwork.
As for Porthos, after having hurled the barrel of powder amidst his enemies, he had
fled, as Aramis had directed him to do, and had gained the last compartment, into which
air, light, and sunshine penetrated through the opening.
Scarcely had he turned the angle which separated the third compartment from the
fourth when he perceived at a hundred paces from him the bark dancing on the waves.
There were his friends, there liberty, there life and victory.
Six more of his formidable strides, and he would be out of the vault; out of the
vault! a dozen of his vigorous leaps and he would reach the canoe.
Suddenly he felt his knees give way; his knees seemed powerless, his legs to yield
beneath him. "Oh! oh!" murmured he, "there is my
weakness seizing me again!
I can walk no further! What is this?"
Aramis perceived him through the opening, and unable to conceive what could induce
him to stop thus--"Come on, Porthos! come on," he cried; "come quickly!"
"Oh!" replied the giant, making an effort that contorted every muscle of his body--
"oh! but I cannot."
While saying these words, he fell upon his knees, but with his mighty hands he clung
to the rocks, and raised himself up again.
"Quick! quick!" repeated Aramis, bending forward towards the shore, as if to draw
Porthos towards him with his arms. "Here I am," stammered Porthos, collecting
all his strength to make one step more.
"In the name of Heaven! Porthos, make haste! the barrel will blow
up!"
"Make haste, monseigneur!" shouted the Bretons to Porthos, who was floundering as
in a dream.
But there was no time; the explosion thundered, earth gaped, the smoke which
hurled through the clefts obscured the sky; the sea flowed back as though driven by the
blast of flame which darted from the grotto
as if from the jaws of some gigantic fiery chimera; the reflux took the bark out
twenty toises; the solid rocks cracked to their base, and separated like blocks
beneath the operation of the wedge; a
portion of the vault was carried up towards heaven, as if it had been built of
cardboard; the green and blue and topaz conflagration and black lava of
liquefactions clashed and combated an
instant beneath a majestic dome of smoke; then oscillated, declined, and fell
successively the mighty monoliths of rock which the violence of the explosion had not
been able to uproot from the bed of ages;
they bowed to each other like grave and stiff old men, then prostrating themselves,
lay down forever in their dusty tomb.
This frightful shock seemed to restore Porthos the strength that he had lost; he
arose, a giant among granite giants.
But at the moment he was flying between the double hedge of granite phantoms, these
latter, which were no longer supported by the corresponding links, began to roll and
totter round our Titan, who looked as if
precipitated from heaven amidst rocks which he had just been launching.
Porthos felt the very earth beneath his feet becoming jelly-tremulous.
He stretched both hands to repulse the falling rocks.
A gigantic block was held back by each of his extended arms.
He bent his head, and a third granite mass sank between his shoulders.
For an instant the power of Porthos seemed about to fail him, but this new Hercules
united all his force, and the two walls of the prison in which he was buried fell back
slowly and gave him place.
For an instant he appeared, in this frame of granite, like the angel of chaos, but in
pushing back the lateral rocks, he lost his point of support, for the monolith which
weighed upon his shoulders, and the
boulder, pressing upon him with all its weight, brought the giant down upon his
knees.
The lateral rocks, for an instant pushed back, drew together again, and added their
weight to the ponderous mass which would have been sufficient to crush ten men.
The hero fell without a groan--he fell while answering Aramis with words of
encouragement and hope, for, thanks to the powerful arch of his hands, for an instant
he believed that, like Enceladus, he would succeed in shaking off the triple load.
But by degrees Aramis beheld the block sink; the hands, strung for an instant, the
arms stiffened for a last effort, gave way, the extended shoulders sank, wounded and
torn, and the rocks continued to gradually collapse.
"Porthos! Porthos!" cried Aramis, tearing his hair.
"Porthos! where are you?
Speak!" "Here, here," murmured Porthos, with a
voice growing evidently weaker, "patience! patience!"
Scarcely had he pronounced these words, when the impulse of the fall augmented the
weight; the enormous rock sank down, pressed by those others which sank in from
the sides, and, as it were, swallowed up
Porthos in a sepulcher of badly jointed stones.
On hearing the dying voice of his friend, Aramis had sprung to land.
Two of the Bretons followed him, with each a lever in his hand--one being sufficient
to take care of the bark. The dying rattle of the valiant gladiator
guided them amidst the ruins.
Aramis, animated, active and young as at twenty, sprang towards the triple mass, and
with his hands, delicate as those of a woman, raised by a miracle of strength the
corner-stone of this great granite grave.
Then he caught a glimpse, through the darkness of that charnel-house, of the
still brilliant eye of his friend, to whom the momentary lifting of the mass restored
a momentary respiration.
The two men came rushing up, grasped their iron levers, united their triple strength,
not merely to raise it, but sustain it. All was useless.
They gave way with cries of grief, and the rough voice of Porthos, seeing them exhaust
themselves in a useless struggle, murmured in an almost cheerful tone those supreme
words which came to his lips with the last respiration, "Too heavy!"
After which his eyes darkened and closed, his face grew ashy pale, the hands
whitened, and the colossus sank quite down, breathing his last sigh.
With him sank the rock, which, even in his dying agony he had still held up.
The three men dropped the levers, which rolled upon the tumulary stone.
Then, breathless, pale, his brow covered with sweat, Aramis listened, his breast
oppressed, his heart ready to break. Nothing more.
The giant slept the eternal sleep, in the sepulcher which God had built about him to
his measure.
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