Chapter XXV. In Which Porthos Thinks He Is Pursuing a Duchy.

by Alexandre Dumas

　　Aramis and Porthos, having profited by the time granted them by Fouquet,did honor to the French cavalry by their speed. Porthos did not clearlyunderstand on what kind of mission he was forced to display so muchvelocity; but as he saw Aramis spurring on furiously, he, Porthos,spurred on in the same way. They had soon, in this manner, placed twelveleagues between them and Vaux; they were then obliged to change horses,and organize a sort of post arrangement. It was during a relay thatPorthos ventured to interrogate Aramis discreetly."Hush!" replied the latter, "know only that our fortune depends on ourspeed."As if Porthos had still been the musketeer, without a sou or a mailleof 1626, he pushed forward. That magic word "fortune" always meanssomething in the human ear. It means enough for those who havenothing; it means too much for those who have enough."I shall be made a duke!" said Porthos, aloud. He was speaking tohimself."That is possible," replied Aramis, smiling after his own fashion, asPorthos's horse passed him. Aramis felt, notwithstanding, as though hisbrain were on fire; the activity of the body had not yet succeeded insubduing that of the mind. All there is of raging passion, mentaltoothache or mortal threat, raged, gnawed and grumbled in the thoughts ofthe unhappy prelate. His countenance exhibited visible traces of thisrude combat. Free on the highway to abandon himself to every impressionof the moment, Aramis did not fail to swear at every start of his horse,at every inequality in the road. Pale, at times inundated with boilingsweats, then again dry and icy, he flogged his horses till the bloodstreamed from their sides. Porthos, whose dominant fault was notsensibility, groaned at this. Thus traveled they on for eight longhours, and then arrived at Orleans. It was four o'clock in theafternoon. Aramis, on observing this, judged that nothing showed pursuitto be a possibility. It would be without example that a troop capable oftaking him and Porthos should be furnished with relays sufficient toperform forty leagues in eight hours. Thus, admitting pursuit, which wasnot at all manifest, the fugitives were five hours in advance of theirpursuers.Aramis thought that there might be no imprudence in taking a little rest,but that to continue would make the matter more certain. Twenty leaguesmore, performed with the same rapidity, twenty more leagues devoured, andno one, not even D'Artagnan, could overtake the enemies of the king.Aramis felt obliged, therefore, to inflict upon Porthos the pain ofmounting on horseback again. They rode on till seven o'clock in theevening, and had only one post more between them and Blois. But here adiabolical accident alarmed Aramis greatly. There were no horses at thepost. The prelate asked himself by what infernal machination his enemieshad succeeded in depriving him of the means of going further, - he whonever recognized chance as a deity, who found a cause for every accident,preferred believing that the refusal of the postmaster, at such an hour,in such a country, was the consequence of an order emanating from above:an order given with a view of stopping short the king-maker in the midstof his flight. But at the moment he was about to fly into a passion, soas to procure either a horse or an explanation, he was struck with therecollection that the Comte de la Fere lived in the neighborhood."I am not traveling," said he; "I do not want horses for a whole stage.Find me two horses to go and pay a visit to a nobleman of my acquaintancewho resides near this place.""What nobleman?" asked the postmaster."M. le Comte de la Fere.""Oh!" replied the postmaster, uncovering with respect, "a very worthynobleman. But, whatever may be my desire to make myself agreeable tohim, I cannot furnish you with horses, for all mine are engaged by M. leDuc de Beaufort.""Indeed!" said Aramis, much disappointed."Only," continued the postmaster, "if you will put up with a littlecarriage I have, I will harness an old blind horse who has still his legsleft, and peradventure will draw you to the house of M. le Comte de laFere.""It is worth a louis," said Aramis."No, monsieur, such a ride is worth no more than a crown; that is what M.Grimaud, the comte's intendant, always pays me when he makes use of thatcarriage; and I should not wish the Comte de la Fere to have to reproachme with having imposed on one of his friends.""As you please," said Aramis, "particularly as regards disobliging theComte de la Fere; only I think I have a right to give you a louis foryour idea.""Oh! doubtless," replied the postmaster with delight. And he himselfharnessed the ancient horse to the creaking carriage. In the meantimePorthos was curious to behold. He imagined he had discovered a clew tothe secret, and he felt pleased, because a visit to Athos, in the firstplace, promised him much satisfaction, and, in the next, gave him thehope of finding at the same time a good bed and good supper. The master,having got the carriage ready, ordered one of his men to drive thestrangers to La Fere. Porthos took his seat by the side of Aramis,whispering in his ear, "I understand.""Aha!" said Aramis, "and what do you understand, my friend?""We are going, on the part of the king, to make some great proposal toAthos.""Pooh!" said Aramis."You need tell me nothing about it," added the worthy Porthos,endeavoring to reseat himself so as to avoid the jolting, "you need tellme nothing, I shall guess.""Well! do, my friend; guess away."They arrived at Athos's dwelling about nine o'clock in the evening,favored by a splendid moon. This cheerful light rejoiced Porthos beyondexpression; but Aramis appeared annoyed by it in an equal degree. Hecould not help showing something of this to Porthos, who replied - "Ay!ay! I guess how it is! the mission is a secret one."These were his last words in the carriage. The driver interrupted him bysaying, "Gentlemen, we have arrived."Porthos and his companion alighted before the gate of the little chateau,where we are about to meet again our old acquaintances Athos andBragelonne, the latter of whom had disappeared since the discovery of theinfidelity of La Valliere. If there be one saying truer than another, itis this: great griefs contain within themselves the germ of consolation.This painful wound, inflicted upon Raoul, had drawn him nearer to hisfather again; and God knows how sweet were the consolations which flowedfrom the eloquent mouth and generous heart of Athos. The wound was notcicatrized, but Athos, by dint of conversing with his son and mixing alittle more of his life with that of the young man, had brought him tounderstand that this pang of a first infidelity is necessary to everyhuman existence; and that no one has loved without encountering it.Raoul listened, again and again, but never understood. Nothing replacesin the deeply afflicted heart the remembrance and thought of the belovedobject. Raoul then replied to the reasoning of his father:"Monsieur, all that you tell me is true; I believe that no one hassuffered in the affections of the heart so much as you have; but you area man too great by reason of intelligence, and too severely tried byadverse fortune not to allow for the weakness of the soldier who suffersfor the first time. I am paying a tribute that will not be paid a secondtime; permit me to plunge myself so deeply in my grief that I may forgetmyself in it, that I may drown even my reason in it.""Raoul! Raoul!""Listen, monsieur. Never shall I accustom myself to the idea thatLouise, the chastest and most innocent of women, has been able to sobasely deceive a man so honest and so true a lover as myself. Never canI persuade myself that I see that sweet and noble mask change into ahypocritical lascivious face. Louise lost! Louise infamous! Ah!monseigneur, that idea is much more cruel to me than Raoul abandonedRaoul unhappy!"Athos then employed the heroic remedy. He defended Louise against Raoul,and justified her perfidy by her love. "A woman who would have yieldedto a king because he is a king," said he, "would deserve to be styledinfamous; but Louise loves Louis. Young, both, they have forgotten, hehis rank, she her vows. Love absolves everything, Raoul. The two youngpeople love each other with sincerity."And when he had dealt this severe poniard-thrust, Athos, with a sigh, sawRaoul bound away beneath the rankling wound, and fly to the thickestrecesses of the wood, or the solitude of his chamber, whence, an hourafter, he would return, pale, trembling, but subdued. Then, coming up toAthos with a smile, he would kiss his hand, like the dog who, having beenbeaten, caresses a respected master, to redeem his fault. Raoul redeemednothing but his weakness, and only confessed his grief. Thus passed awaythe days that followed that scene in which Athos had so violently shakenthe indomitable pride of the king. Never, when conversing with his son,did he make any allusion to that scene; never did he give him the detailsof that vigorous lecture, which might, perhaps, have consoled the youngman, by showing him his rival humbled. Athos did not wish that theoffended lover should forget the respect due to his king. And whenBragelonne, ardent, angry, and melancholy, spoke with contempt of royalwords, of the equivocal faith which certain madmen draw from promisesthat emanate from thrones, when, passing over two centuries, with thatrapidity of a bird that traverses a narrow strait to go from onecontinent to the other, Raoul ventured to predict the time in which kingswould be esteemed as less than other men, Athos said to him, in hisserene, persuasive voice, "You are right, Raoul; all that you say willhappen; kings will lose their privileges, as stars which have survivedtheir aeons lose their splendor. But when that moment comes, Raoul, weshall be dead. And remember well what I say to you. In this world, all,men, women, and kings, must live for the present. We can only live forthe future for God."This was the manner in which Athos and Raoul were, as usual, conversing,and walking backwards and forwards in the long alley of limes in thepark, when the bell which served to announce to the comte either the hourof dinner or the arrival of a visitor, was rung; and, without attachingany importance to it, he turned towards the house with his son; and atthe end of the alley they found themselves in the presence of Aramis andPorthos.