“Yes,” he said, “that is the key of the whole enigma. The young girl has been playing her pranks. What people say about her and the King is true, then. Our young master has been deceived; he ought to know it. Monsieur the Count has been to see the King, and has given him a piece of his mind; and then the King sent M. d’Artagnan to arrange the affair. Ah, my God!” continued Grimaud, “Monsieur the Count, I now remember, returned without his sword.”
This discovery made the perspiration break out all over poor Grimaud’s face. He did not waste any more time in useless conjecture, but clapped his hat on his head and started for Raoul’s lodgings.
Raoul, after Louise had left him, had mastered his grief, if not his affection; and compelled to look forward on that perilous road on which madness and rebellion were hurrying him, he had seen, from the very first glance, his father exposed to the royal obstinacy, since Athos had immediately exposed himself to that obstinacy. In this moment, when sympathy gave him insight, the unhappy young man recalled the mysterious signs which Athos had made, and the unexpected visit of d’Artagnan. The probable result of the conflict between a sovereign and a subject revealed itself to his terrified vision. As d’Artagnan was on duty, that is, fixed to his post, he certainly had not come to pay Athos a visit merely for the pleasure of seeing him. He must have come to say something to him. This something, in a crisis so serious, was either a misfortune or a danger. Raoul shuddered at his selfishness in having forgotten his father for his love,- in having occupied himself with dreams or the fascinations of despair at a time when it was perhaps necessary to repel an imminent attack directed against Athos. The idea nearly drove him wild; he buckled on his sword and ran towards his father’s lodgings. On his way thither he encountered Grimaud, who having set off from the opposite direction was running with equal eagerness in search of the truth. The two men embraced each other warmly; they were both at the same point of the parabola described by their imagination.
“Grimaud!” exclaimed Raoul.
“M. Raoul!” cried Grimaud.
“Is the count well?”
“Have you seen him?”
“No; where is he?”
“I am trying to find out.”
“And M. d’Artagnan?”
“Went out with him.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes after you had left.”
“In what way did they go out?”
“In a carriage.”
“Where did they go?”
“I have no idea at all.”
“Did my father take any money with him?”
“No.”
“Or his sword?”
“No.”
“Grimaud!”
“M. Raoul!”
“I have an idea that M. d’Artagnan came to-”
“Arrest Monsieur the Count, do you not think, Monsieur?”
“Yes, Grimaud.”
“I could have sworn it.”
“What road did they take?”
“The way leading towards the quays.”
“To the Bastille, then?”
“Ah, my God! yes.”
“Quick, quick! let us run.”
“Yes, let us run.”
“But whither?” said Raoul, overwhelmed.
“We will go to M. d’Artagnan’s first; we may perhaps learn something there.”
“No; if he has kept it from me at my father’s, he will do the same everywhere. Let us go to- Oh, good Heavens! why, I must be mad to-day, Grimaud.”
“Why so?”
“I have forgotten M. du Vallon-”
“M. Porthos?”
“Who is waiting for and expecting me still! Alas! I have told you correctly, I am mad!”
“Where is he, then?”
“At the Minimes of Vincennes.”
“Thank goodness, that is in the direction of the Bastille. I will run and saddle the horses, and we will go at once,” said Grimaud.
“Do, my friend, do!”
Chapter XXVII: In Which Porthos Is Convinced Without Having Understood Anything
THE worthy Porthos, faithful to all the laws of ancient chivalry, had determined to wait for M. de Saint-Aignan until sunset; and as De Saint-Aignan did not come, as Raoul had forgotten to communicate with his second, and as he found that waiting so long was very wearisome, Porthos had desired one of the gate-keepers to fetch him a few bottles of good wine and a good joint of meat,- so that he at least might have the diversion of enjoying from time to time a glass of wine and a mouthful of something to eat. He had just finished when Raoul arrived escorted by Grimaud, both of them riding at full speed. When Porthos saw the two cavaliers riding at such a pace along the road, he did not for a moment doubt but that they were the men he was expecting; and he rose from the grass upon which he had been indolently reclining, and began to stretch his legs and arms, saying, “See what it is to have good habits! The fellow has come, after all. If I had gone away, he would have found no one here, and would have taken an advantage from that.” He then threw himself into a martial attitude, and drew himself up to the full height of his gigantic stature. But instead of De Saint-Aignan, he saw only Raoul, who with the most despairing gestures accosted him by crying out, “Pray forgive me, my dear friend! I am most wretched.”
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