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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."