“I think you have not quite got it, my dear Lebrun,” he said; “your colors will deceive you, and on canvas we shall lack that exact resemblance which is absolutely requisite. Time is necessary for observing the finer shades.”
“Quite true,” said Percerin; “but time is wanting, and on that head you will agree with me, Monseigneur, I can do nothing.”
“Then the affair will fail,” said Aramis, quietly, “and that because of a want of precision in the colors.”
Nevertheless, Lebrun went on copying the materials and ornaments with the closest fidelity,- a process which Aramis watched with ill-concealed impatience.
“What in the devil, now, is the meaning of this imbroglio?” the musketeer kept saying to himself.
“That will certainly never do,” said Aramis. “M. Lebrun, close your box, and roll up your canvas.”
“But, Monsieur,” cried the vexed painter, “the light is abominable here.”
“An idea, M. Lebrun, an idea! If we had a sample of the materials, for example, and with time and a better light-”
“Oh, then,” cried Lebrun, “I would answer for the effect!”
“Good!” said d’Artagnan, “this ought to be the knot of the whole thing; they want a sample of each of the materials. Mordioux! will this Percerin give it now?”
Percerin, beaten in his last retreat, and duped moreover by the feigned good-nature of Aramis, cut out five samples and handed them to the Bishop of Vannes.
“I like this better. That is your opinion, is it not?” said Aramis to d’Artagnan.
“My dear Aramis,” said d’Artagnan, “my opinion is that you are always the same.”
“And, consequently, always your friend,” said the bishop, in a charming tone.
“Yes, yes,” said d’Artagnan, aloud; then, in a low voice, “If I am your dupe, double Jesuit that you are, I will not be your accomplice; and to prevent it, ’tis time I left this place. Adieu, Aramis,” he added, aloud, “adieu; I am going to rejoin Porthos.”
“Then wait for me,” said Aramis, pocketing the samples; “for I have done, and shall not be sorry to say a parting word to our friend.”
Lebrun packed up, Percerin put back the dresses into the closet, Aramis put his hand on his pocket to assure himself that the samples were secure, and they all left the study.
Chapter XXXIII: Where, Probably, Moliere Formed His First Idea of the “Bourgeois Gentilhomme”
D’ARTAGNAN found Porthos in the adjoining chamber; but no longer an irritated Porthos, or a disappointed Porthos, but Porthos radiant, blooming, fascinating, and chatting with Moliere, who was looking upon him with a species of idolatry, and as a man would who had not only never seen anything better, but not even ever anything so good. Aramis went straight up to Porthos and offered him his delicate hand, which lost itself in the gigantic hand of his old friend,- an operation which Aramis never hazarded without a certain uneasiness. But the friendly pressure having been performed not too painfully for him, the Bishop of Vannes passed over to Moliere.
“Well, Monsieur,” said he, “will you come with me to St. Mande?”
“I will go anywhere you like, Monseigneur,” answered Moliere.
“To St. Mande!” cried Porthos, surprised at seeing the proud Bishop of Vannes fraternizing with a journeyman tailor. “What! Aramis, are you going to take this gentleman to St. Mande?”
“Yes,” said Aramis, smiling; “our work is pressing.”
“Besides, my dear Porthos,” continued d’Artagnan, “M. Moliere is not altogether what he seems.”
“In what way?” asked Porthos.
“Why, this gentleman is one of M. Percerin’s chief clerks, and he is expected at St. Mande to try on the dresses which M. Fouquet has ordered for the Epicureans.”
“‘Tis precisely so,” said Moliere; “yes, Monsieur.”
“Come, then, my dear M. Moliere,” said Aramis; “that is, if you have done with M. du Vallon?”
“We have finished,” replied Porthos.
“And you are satisfied?” asked d’Artagnan.
“Completely so,” replied Porthos.
Moliere took his leave of Porthos with much ceremony, and grasped the hand which the captain of the Musketeers furtively offered him.
“Pray, Monsieur,” concluded Porthos, mincingly, “above all, be exact.”
“You will have your dress after tomorrow, Monsieur the Baron,” answered Moliere; and he left with Aramis.
D’Artagnan, taking Porthos’s arm, inquired, “What has this tailor done for you, my dear Porthos, that you are so pleased with him?”