The Vicomte De Bragelonne by Alexandre Dumas (each kindness read aloud TXT) π
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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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"Fabricius could not have spoken more justly. But in truth, my money has never been a burden to me."
"How so? Do you place it out at interest?"
"No; you know I have a tolerably handsome house; and that house composes the better part of my property."
"I know it does."
"So that you can be as rich as I am, and, indeed, more rich, whenever you like, by the same means."
"But your rents,--do you lay them by?"
"No."
"What do you think of a chest concealed in a wall?"
"I never made use of such a thing."
"Then you must have some confidant, some safe man of business who pays you interest at a fair rate."
"Not at all."
"Good heavens! what do you do with it, then?"
"I spend all I have, and I only have what I spend, my dear D'Artagnan."
"Ah! that may be. But you are something of a prince; fifteen or sixteen thousand livres melt away between your fingers; and then you have expenses and appearances--"
"Well, I don't see why you should be less of a noble than I am, my friend; your money would be quite sufficient."
"Three hundred thousand livres! Two-thirds too much!"
"I beg your pardon--did you not tell me?--I thought I heard you say--I fancied you had a partner--"
"Ah! Mordioux! that's true," cried D'Artagnan, coloring; "there is Planchet. I had forgotten Planchet, upon my life! Well! there are my three hundred thousand livres broken into. That's a pity! it was a round sum, and sounded well. That is true, Athos; I am no longer rich. What a memory you have!"
"Tolerably good; yes, thank God!"
"The worthy Planchet!" grumbled D'Artagnan; "his was not a bad dream! What a speculation! Peste! Well! what is said is said."
"How much are you to give him?"
"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "he is not a bad fellow; I shall arrange matters with him. I have had a great deal of trouble, you see, and expenses; all that must be taken into account."
"My dear friend, I can depend on you, and have no fear for the worthy Planchet; his interests are better in your hands than in his own. But now that you have nothing more to do here, we shall depart, if you please. You can go and thank his majesty, ask if he has any commands, and in six days we may be able to get sight of the towers of Notre Dame."
"My friend, I am most anxious to be off, and will go at once and pay my respects to the king."
"I," said Athos, "am going to call upon some friends in the city, and shall then be at your service."
"Will you lend me Grimaud?"
"With all my heart. What do you want to do with him?"
"Something very simple, and which will not fatigue him; I shall only beg him to take charge of my pistols, which lie there on the table near that coffer."
"Very well!" replied Athos, imperturbably.
"And he will not stir, will he?"
"Not more than the pistols themselves."
"Then I shall go and take leave of his majesty. Au revoir!"
D'Artagnan arrived at St. James's, where Charles II., who was busy writing, kept him in the ante-chamber a full hour. Whilst walking about in the gallery, from the door to the window, from the window to the door, he thought he saw a cloak like Athos's cross the vestibule; but at the moment he was going to ascertain if it were he, the usher summoned him to his majesty's presence. Charles II. rubbed his hands while receiving the thanks of our friend.
"Chevalier," said he, "you are wrong to express gratitude to me; I have not paid you a quarter of the value of the history of the box into which you put the brave general--the excellent Duke of Albemarle, I mean." And the king laughed heartily.
D'Artagnan did not think it proper to interrupt his majesty, and he bowed with much modesty.
"A propos," continued Charles, "do you think my dear Monk has really pardoned you?"
"Pardoned me! yes, I hope so, sire!"
"Eh!--but it was a cruel trick! Odds fish! to pack up the first personage of the English revolution like a herring. In your place I would not trust him, chevalier."
"But, sire--"
"Yes, I know very well Monk calls you his friend, but he has too penetrating an eye not to have a memory, and too lofty a brow not to be very proud, you know, grande supercilium."
"I shall certainly learn Latin," said D'Artagnan to himself.
"But stop," cried the merry monarch, "I must manage your reconciliation; I know how to set about it; so--"
D'Artagnan bit his mustache. "Will your majesty permit me to tell you the truth?"
"Speak, chevalier, speak."
"Well, sire, you alarm me greatly. If your majesty undertakes the affair, as you seem inclined to do, I am a lost man; the duke will have me assassinated."
The king burst into a fresh roar of laughter, which changed D'Artagnan's alarm into downright terror.
"Sire, I beg you to allow me to settle this matter myself, and if your majesty has no further need of my services--"
"No, chevalier. What, do you want to leave us?" replied Charles, with a hilarity that grew more and more alarming.
"If your majesty has no more commands for me."
Charles became more serious.
"One single thing. See my sister, the Lady Henrietta. Do you know her?"
"No, sire, but--an old soldier like me is not an agreeable spectacle for a young and gay princess."
"Ah! but my sister must know you; she must in case of need have you to depend upon."
"Sire, every one that is dear to your majesty will be sacred to me."
"Very well!--Parry! Come here, Parry!"
The side door opened and Parry entered, his face beaming with pleasure as soon as he saw D'Artagnan.
"What is Rochester doing?" said the king.
"He is on the canal with the ladies," replied Parry.
"And Buckingham?"
"He is there also."
"That is well. You will conduct the chevalier to Villiers; that is the Duke of Buckingham, chevalier; and beg the duke to introduce M. d'Artagnan to the Princess Henrietta."
Parry bowed and smiled to D'Artagnan.
"Chevalier," continued the king, "this is your parting audience; you can afterwards set out as soon as you please."
"Sire, I thank you."
"But be sure you make your peace with Monk!"
"Oh, sire--"
"You know there is one of my vessels at your disposal?"
"Sire, you overpower me; I cannot think of putting your majesty's officers to inconvenience on my account."
The king slapped D'Artagnan upon the shoulder.
"Nobody will be inconvenienced on your account, chevalier, but for that of an ambassador I am about sending to France, and to whom you will willingly serve as a companion, I fancy, for you know him."
D'Artagnan appeared astonished.
"He is a certain Comte de la Fere,--whom you call Athos," added the king; terminating the conversation, as he had begun it, by a joyous burst of laughter. "Adieu, chevalier, adieu. Love me as I love you." And thereupon, making a sign to Parry to ask if there were any one waiting for him in the adjoining closet, the king disappeared into that closet, leaving the chevalier perfectly astonished by this singular audience. The old man took his arm in a friendly way, and led him towards the garden.
Upon the green waters of the canal bordered with marble, upon which time had already scattered black spots and tufts of mossy grass, there glided majestically a long, flat bark adorned with the arms of England, surmounted by a dais, and carpeted with long damasked stuffs, which trailed their fringes in the water. Eight rowers, leaning lazily to their oars, made it move upon the canal with the graceful slowness of the swans, which, disturbed in their ancient possessions by the approach of the bark, looked from a distance at this splendid and noisy pageant. We say noisy--for the bark contained four guitar and lute players, two singers, and several courtiers, all sparkling with gold and precious stones, and showing their white teeth in emulation of each other, to please the Lady Henrietta Stuart, grand-daughter of Henry IV., daughter of Charles I., and sister of Charles II., who occupied the seat of honor under the dais of the bark. We know this young princess, we have seen her at the Louvre with her mother, wanting wood, wanting bread, and fed by the coadjuteur and the parliament. She had, therefore, like her brothers, passed through an uneasy youth; then, all at once, she had just awakened from a long and horrible dream, seated on the steps of a throne, surrounded by courtiers and flatterers. Like Mary Stuart on leaving prison, she aspired not only to life and liberty, but to power and wealth.
The Lady Henrietta, in growing, had attained remarkable beauty, which the recent restoration had rendered celebrated. Misfortune had taken from her the luster of pride, but prosperity had restored it to her. She was resplendent, then, in her joy and her happiness,--like those hot-house flowers which, forgotten during a frosty autumn night, have hung their heads, but which on the morrow, warmed once more by the atmosphere in which they were born, rise again with greater splendor than ever. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, son of him who played so conspicuous a part in the early chapters of this history,--Villiers of Buckingham, a handsome cavalier, melancholy with women, a jester with men,--and Wilmot, Lord Rochester, a jester with both sexes, were standing at this moment before the Lady Henrietta, disputing the privilege of making her smile. As to that young and beautiful princess, reclining upon a cushion of velvet bordered with gold, her hands hanging listlessly so as to dip in the water, she listened carelessly to the musicians without hearing them, and heard the two courtiers without appearing to listen to them.
This Lady Henrietta--this charming creature--this woman who joined the graces of France to the beauties of England, not having yet loved, was cruel in her coquetry. The smile, then,--that innocent favor of young girls,--did not even lighten her countenance; and if, at times, she did raise her eyes, it was to fasten them upon one or other of the cavaliers with such a fixity, that their gallantry, bold as it generally was, took the alarm, and became timid.
In the meanwhile the boat continued its course, the musicians made a great noise, and the courtiers began, like them, to be out of breath. Besides, the excursion became doubtless monotonous to the princess, for all at once, shaking her head with an air of impatience,--"Come gentlemen,--enough of this;--let us land."
"Ah, madam," said Buckingham, "we are very unfortunate! We have not succeeded in making the excursion agreeable to your royal highness."
"My mother expects me," replied the princess; "and I must frankly admit, gentlemen, I am bored." And whilst uttering this cruel word, Henrietta endeavored to console by a look each of the two young men, who appeared terrified at such frankness. The look produced its effect--the two faces brightened; but immediately, as if the royal coquette thought she had done too much for simple mortals, she made a movement, turned her back on both her adorers, and appeared plunged in a reverie in which it was evident they had no part.
Buckingham bit his lips with anger, for he was truly in love with the Lady Henrietta, and, in that case, took everything in a serious light. Rochester bit his lips likewise; but his wit always dominated over his heart, it was purely
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