“Never mind,” said the young man to the count, who silently, and with his finger, had made him understand d’Artagnan’s route; “we must confess that there is a Providence always occupied in connecting our destiny with that of M. d’Artagnan. There he is on the coast of Cannes; and you, Monsieur, will at least conduct me as far as Toulon. Be assured that we shall meet with him more easily upon our route than upon this map.”
Then taking leave of Planchet, who was scolding his shop-men, even the cousin of Truchen, his successor, the gentlemen set out to pay a visit to M. de Beaufort. On leaving the grocer’s shop, they saw a coach,- the future depository of the charms of Mademoiselle Truchen and of Planchet’s bags of crowns.
“Every one journeys towards happiness by the route he chooses,” said Raoul, in a melancholy tone.
“Road to Fontainebleau!” cried Planchet to his coachman.
Chapter LVIII: The Inventory of M. de Beaufort
TO HAVE talked of d’Artagnan with Planchet, to have seen Planchet quit Paris to bury himself in his country retreat, had been for Athos and his son like a last farewell to the noise of the capital,- to their life of former days. What, in fact. did these men leave behind them, one of whom had exhausted the past age in glory, and the other the present age in misfortune? Evidently, neither of them had anything to ask of his contemporaries. They had only to pay a visit to M. de Beaufort, and arrange with him the particulars of the departure. The duke was lodged magnificently in Paris. He had one of those superb establishments pertaining to great fortunes which certain old men remembered to have seen flourish in the times of wasteful liberality in Henry III’s reign. Then, in fact, several great nobles were richer than the King. They knew it; they made use of their wealth, and never deprived themselves of the pleasure of humiliating his royal Majesty when they had an opportunity. It was this egotistical aristocracy which Richelieu had constrained to contribute, with its blood, its purse, and its duties, to what was from his time styled the King’s service. From Louis XI- that terrible mower down of the great- to Richelieu, how many families had raised their heads! How many from Richelieu to Louis XIV had bowed their heads never to raise them again! But M. de Beaufort was born a Prince, and of a blood which is not shed upon scaffolds, unless by the decree of peoples. This Prince had kept up a grand style of living. How did he maintain his horses, his people, and his table? Nobody knew,- himself less than others. Only there were then privileges for the sons of kings, to whom nobody refused to become a creditor, whether from respect, devotedness, or a persuasion that they would some day be paid.
Athos and Raoul found the mansion of the duke in as much confusion as that of Planchet. The duke, likewise, was making his inventory; that is to say, he was distributing to his friends, all of them his creditors, everything of value he had in his house. Owing nearly two millions,- an enormous amount in those days,- M. de Beaufort had calculated that he could not set out for Africa without a good round sum; and in order to find that sum, he was distributing to his old creditors plate, arms, jewels, and furniture,- which was more magnificent than selling it, and brought him back double. In fact, how could a man to whom ten thousand livres were owing, refuse to carry away a present of six thousand, enhanced in merit from having belonged to a descendant of Henry IV? And how, after having carried away that present, could he refuse ten thousand livres more to this generous noble?
This, then, was what had happened. The duke had no longer a dwelling-house,- that had become useless to an admiral, whose place of residence is his ship; no more private arms, superfluous now that he was placed amid his cannon; no more jewels, which the sea might rob him of; but he had three or four hundred thousand crowns in his coffers. And throughout the house there was a joyous movement of people who believed they were plundering Monseigneur.