“No; for my part I prefer having something to reproach the King with. It is a pride natural to my race to pretend to a superiority over royal races. Doing what you propose, I should become a dependent of the King; I should certainly be the gainer on that ground, but I should be a loser in my conscience. No, thank you!”
“Then, give me two things, Athos,- your absolution.”
“Oh! I give it you if you have really wished to avenge the weak and the oppressed against the oppressor.”
“That is sufficient for me,” said Aramis, with a blush which was lost in the obscurity of the night. “And now give me your best two horses to gain the second post, as I have been refused any under the pretext of a journey which the Duc de Beaufort is making in this country.”
“You shall have two of my best horses, Aramis; and I again recommend Porthos strongly to you.”
“Oh, have no fear on that head. One word more: do you think I am planning wisely for him?”
“The evil being committed, yes; for the King would not pardon him, and you have, whatever may be said, always a supporter in M. Fouquet, who will not abandon you, being himself compromised, notwithstanding his heroic action.”
“You are right. And that is why, instead of gaining the sea at once, which would proclaim my fear and guilt,- that is why I remain upon French ground. But Belle-Isle will be for me whatever ground I wish it to be, English, Spanish, or Roman; all depends on the standard I shall think proper to unfurl.”
“How so?”
“It was I who fortified Belle-Isle; and while I defend it, nobody can take Belle-Isle from me. And then, as you have said just now, M. Fouquet is there. Belle-Isle will not be attacked without the signature of M. Fouquet.”
“That is true. Nevertheless, be prudent. The King is both cunning and strong.”
Aramis smiled.
“I again recommend Porthos to you,” repeated the count, with a sort of cold persistence.
“Whatever becomes of me, Count,” replied Aramis, in the same tone, “our brother Porthos will fare as I do.”
Athos bowed while pressing the hand of Aramis, and turned to embrace Porthos with much emotion.
“I was born lucky, was I not?” murmured the latter, transported with happiness, as he folded his cloak round him.
“Come, my dear friend,” said Aramis.
Raoul had gone out to give orders for the saddling of the horses. The group was already divided. Athos saw his two friends on the point of departure, and something like a mist passed before his eyes, and weighed upon his heart.
“It is strange,” thought he, “whence comes the inclination I feel to embrace Porthos once more.” At that moment Porthos turned round, and came towards his old friend with open arms. This last endearment was tender as in youth, as in times when the heart was warm and life happy; and then Porthos mounted his horse. Aramis came back once more to throw his arms round the neck of Athos. The latter watched them along the high road, elongated by the shade, in their white cloaks. Like two phantoms, they seemed to be enlarged on departing from the earth; and it was not in the mist, but in the declivity of the ground that they disappeared. At the end of the perspective, both seemed to have given a spring with their feet, which made them vanish as if evaporated into the clouds.
Then Athos, with an oppressed heart, returned towards the house, saying to Bragelonne, “Raoul, I don’t know what it is that has just told me that I have seen these two men for the last time.”
“It does not astonish me, Monsieur, that you should have such a thought,” replied the young man, “for I have at this moment the same, and I also think that I shall never see Messieurs du Vallon and d’Herblay again.”
“Oh, you!” replied the count, “you speak like a man rendered sad by another cause,- you see everything in black; but you are young, and if you chance never to see those old friends again, it will be because they no longer exist in the world in which you have many years to pass. As for me-“