His accounts once settled, and his recommendations made, D'Artagnanthought of nothing but returning to Paris as soon as possible. Athos, onhis part, was anxious to reach home and to rest a little. However wholethe character and the man may remain after the fatigues of a voyage, thetraveler perceives with pleasure, at the close of the day--even thoughthe day has been a fine one--that night is approaching, and will bringa little sleep with it. So, from Boulogne to Paris, jogging on, side byside, the two friends, in some degree absorbed each in his individualthoughts, conversed of nothing sufficiently interesting for us to repeatto our readers. Each of them given up to his personal reflections, andconstructing his future after his own fashion, was, above all, anxiousto abridge the distance by speed. Athos and D'Artagnan arrived at thegates of Paris on the evening of the fourth day after leaving Boulogne.
"Where are you going, my friend?" asked Athos. "I shall direct my coursestraight to my hotel."
"And I straight to my partner's."
"To Planchet's?"
"Yes; at the Pilon d'Or."
"Well, but shall we not meet again?"
"If you remain in Paris, yes, for I shall stay here."
"No: after having embraced Raoul, with whom I have appointed a meetingat my hotel, I shall set out immediately for La Fere."
"Well, adieu, then, dear and true friend."
"Au revoir! I should rather say, for why can you not come and live withme at Blois? You are free, you are rich, I shall purchase for you, ifyou like, a handsome estate in the vicinity of Chiverny or of Bracieux.On the one side you will have the finest woods in the world, whichjoin those of Chambord; on the other, admirable marshes. You who lovesporting, and who, whether you admit it or not, are a poet, my dearfriend, you will find pheasants, rail and teal, without counting sunsetsand excursions on the water, to make you fancy yourself Nimrod andApollo themselves. While awaiting the purchase, you can live at La Fere,and we shall go together to fly our hawks among the vines, as LouisXIII. used to do. That is a quiet amusement for old fellows like us."
D'Artagnan took the hands of Athos in his own. "Dear count," said he,"I shall say neither 'Yes' nor 'No.' Let me pass in Paris the timenecessary for the regulation of my affairs, and accustom myself, bydegrees, to the heavy and glittering idea which is beating in my brainand dazzles me. I am rich, you see, and from this moment until the timewhen I shall have acquired the habit of being rich, I know myself, and Ishall be an insupportable animal. Now, I am not enough of a fool towish to appear to have lost my wits before a friend like you, Athos. Thecloak is handsome, the cloak is richly gilded, but it is new, and doesnot seem to fit me."
Athos smiled. "So be it," said he. "But a propos of this cloak, dearD'Artagnan, will you allow me to offer you a little advice?"
"Yes, willingly."
"You will not be angry?"
"Proceed."
"When wealth comes to a man late in life or all at once, that man, inorder not to change, must most likely become a miser--that is to say,not spend much more money than he had done before; or else become aprodigal, and contract so many debts as to become poor again."
"Oh! but what you say looks very much like a sophism, my dearphilosophic friend."
"I do not think so. Will you become a miser?"
"No, pardieu! I was one already, having nothing. Let us change."
"Then be prodigal."
"Still less, Mordioux! Debts terrify me. Creditors appear to me, byanticipation like those devils who turn the damned upon the gridirons,and as patience is not my dominant virtue, I am always tempted to thrashthose devils."
"You are the wisest man I know, and stand in no need of advice from anyone. Great fools must they be who think they have anything to teach you.But are we not at the Rue Saint Honore?"
"Yes, dear Athos."
"Look yonder, on the left, that small, long white house is the hotelwhere I lodge. You may observe that it has but two stories; I occupythe first; the other is let to an officer whose duties oblige him to beabsent eight or nine months in the year,--so I am in that house as in myown home, without the expense."
"Oh! how well you manage, Athos! What order and what liberality! Theyare what I wish to unite! But, of what use trying! that comes frombirth, and cannot be acquired."
"You are a flatterer! Well! adieu, dear friend. A propos, remember me toMaster Planchet; he was always a bright fellow."
"And a man of heart, too, Athos. Adieu."
And they separated. During all this conversation, D'Artagnan had not fora moment lost sight of a certain pack-horse, in whose panniers,under some hay, were spread the sacoches (messenger's bags) with theportmanteau. Nine o'clock was striking at Saint-Merri. Planchet's helpswere shutting up his shop. D'Artagnan stopped the postilion who rode thepack-horse, at the corner of the Rue des Lombards, under a penthouse,and calling one of Planchet's boys, he desired him not only to take careof the two horses, but to watch the postilion; after which he enteredthe shop of the grocer, who had just finished supper, and who, in hislittle private room, was, with a degree of anxiety, consulting thecalendar, on which, every evening, he scratched out the day that waspast. At the moment when Planchet, according to his daily custom, withthe back of his pen, erased another day, D'Artagnan kicked the doorwith his foot, and the blow made his steel spur jingle. "Oh! goodLord!" cried Planchet. The worthy grocer could say no more; he had justperceived his partner. D'Artagnan entered with a bent back and a dulleye: the Gascon had an idea with regard to Planchet.
"Good God!" thought the grocer, looking earnestly at the traveler, "helooks sad!" The musketeer sat down.
"My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Planchet, with a horriblepalpitation of the heart. "Here you are! and your health?"
"Tolerably good, Planchet, tolerably good!" said D'Artagnan, with aprofound sigh.
"You have not been wounded, I hope?"
"Phew!"
"Ah, I see," continued Planchet, more and more alarmed, "the expeditionhas been a trying one?"
"Yes," said D'Artagnan. A shudder ran down Planchet's back. "I shouldlike to have something to drink," said the musketeer, raising his headpiteously.
Planchet ran to the cupboard, and poured out to D'Artagnan some wine ina large glass. D'Artagnan examined the bottle.
"What wine is that?" asked he.
"Alas! that which you prefer, monsieur," said Planchet; "that good oldAnjou wine, which was one day nearly costing us all so dear."
"Ah!" replied D'Artagnan, with a melancholy smile, "Ah! my poorPlanchet, ought I still to drink good wine?"
"Come! my dear master," said Planchet, making a superhuman effort,whilst all his contracted muscles, his pallor, and his trembling,betrayed the most acute anguish. "Come! I have been a soldier andconsequently have some courage; do not make me linger, dear Monsieurd'Artagnan; our money is lost, is it not?"
Before he answered, D'Artagnan took his time, and that appeared an ageto the poor grocer. Nevertheless he did nothing but turn about on hischair.
"And if that were the case," said he, slowly, moving his head up anddown, "if that were the case, what would you say, my dear friend?"
Planchet, from being pale, turned yellow. It might have been thought hewas going to swallow his tongue, so full became his throat, so red werehis eyes!
"Twenty thousand livres!" murmured he. "Twenty thousand livres, andyet----"
D'Artagnan, with his neck elongated, his legs stretched out, and hishands hanging listlessly, looked like a statue of discouragement.Planchet drew up a sigh from the deepest cavities of his breast.
"Well," said he, "I see how it is. Let us be men! It is all over, is itnot? The principal thing is, monsieur, that your life is safe."
"Doubtless! doubtless!--life is something--but I am ruined!"
"Cordieu! monsieur!" said Planchet, "if it is so, we must not despairfor that; you shall become a grocer with me; I shall take you for mypartner, we will share the profits, and if there should be no moreprofits, well, why then we shall share the almonds,
raisins and prunes,and we will nibble together the last quarter of Dutch cheese."
D'Artagnan could hold out no longer. "Mordioux!" cried he, with greatemotion, "thou art a brave fellow on my honor, Planchet. You have notbeen playing a part, have you? You have not seen the pack-horse with thebags under the shed yonder?"
"What horse? What bags?" said Planchet, whose trembling heart began tosuggest that D'Artagnan was mad.
"Why, the English bags, Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan, all radiant, quitetransfigured.
"Ah! good God!" articulated Planchet, drawing back before the dazzlingfire of his looks.
"Imbecile!" cried D'Artagnan, "you think me mad! Mordioux! On thecontrary, never was my head more clear, or my heart more joyous. To thebags, Planchet, to the bags!"
"But to what bags, good heavens!"
D'Artagnan pushed Planchet towards the window.
"Under the shed yonder, don't you see a horse?"
"Yes."
"Don't you see how his back is laden?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Don't you see your lad talking with the postilion?"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"Well, you know the name of that lad, because he is your own. Call him."
"Abdon! Abdon!" vociferated Planchet, from the window.
"Bring the horse!" shouted D'Artagnan.
"Bring the horse!" screamed Planchet.
"Now give ten crowns to the postilion," said D'Artagnan, in the tone hewould have employed in commanding a maneuver; "two lads to bring up thetwo first bags, two to bring up the two last,--and move, Mordioux! belively!"
Planchet rushed down the stairs, as if the devil had been at his heels.A moment later the lads ascended the staircase, bending beneath theirburden. D'Artagnan sent them off to their garrets, carefully closed thedoor, and addressing Planchet, who, in his turn, looked a little wild,--
"Now, we are by ourselves," said he, and he spread upon the floor alarge cover, and emptied the first bag into it. Planchet did the samewith the second; then D'Artagnan, all in a tremble, let out the preciousbowels of the third with a knife. When Planchet heard the provokingsound of the silver and gold--when he saw bubbling out of the bags theshining crowns, which glittered like fish from the sweep-net--when hefelt himself plunging his hands up to the elbow in that still risingtide of yellow and white coins, a giddiness seized him, and like a manstruck by lightning, he sank heavily down upon the enormous heap, whichhis weight caused to roll away in all directions. Planchet, suffocatedwith joy, had lost his senses. D'Artagnan threw a glass of white wine inhis face, which incontinently recalled him to life.
"Ah! good heavens! good heavens! good heavens!" said Planchet, wipinghis mustache and beard.
At that time, as they do now, grocers wore the cavalier mustache and thelansquenet beard, only the money baths, already rare in those days, havebecome almost unknown now.
"Mordieux!" said D'Artagnan, "there are a hundred thousand crowns foryou, partner. Draw your share, if you please, and I will draw mine."
"Oh! the lovely sum! Monsieur d'Artagnan, the lovely sum!"
"I confess that half an hour ago I regretted that I had to give you somuch, but I now no longer regret it; thou art a brave grocer, Planchet.There, let us close our accounts, for, as they say, short reckoningsmake long friends."
"Oh! rather, in the first place, tell me the whole history," saidPlanchet; "that must be better than the money."
"Ma foi!" said D'Artagnan, stroking his mustache, "I can't say no, andif ever the historian turns to me for information, he will be ableto say he has not dipped his bucket into a dry spring. Listen, then,Planchet, I will tell you all about it."
"And I shall build piles of crowns," said Planchet. "Begin, my dearmaster."
"Well, this is it," said D'Artagnan, drawing breath.
"And that is it," said Planchet, picking up his first handful of crowns.
CHAPTER 39. Mazarin's Gaming Party