Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part two

“Monsieur, I know it, and have practised it; I would have continued to do so still, but-”

“You forget also that you are of a country which is proud of its military glory; go and die if you like, but do not die without honor and without advantage to France. Cheer up, Raoul! do not let my words grieve you; I love you, and wish to see you perfect.”

“I love your reproaches, Monsieur,” said the young man, mildly; “they alone may cure me, because they prove to me that some one loves me still.”

“And now, Raoul, let us be off, the weather is so fine, the heavens are so pure,- those heavens which we shall always find above our heads, which you will see more pure still at Djidgelli, and which will speak to you of me there, as they speak to me here of God.”

The two gentlemen, after having agreed on this point, talked over the wild freaks of the duke, convinced that France would be served in a very incomplete manner, as regarded both spirit and practice, in the ensuing expedition; and having summed up his policy under the word “vanity,” they set forward, in obedience to their will even more than to their destiny.

The sacrifice was accomplished.

Chapter LIX: The Silver Plate

THE journey passed off pretty well. Athos and his son traversed France at the rate of fifteen leagues per day; sometimes more, according to the intensity of Raoul’s grief. It took them a fortnight to reach Toulon, and they lost all traces of d’Artagnan at Antibes. They were forced to believe that the captain of the Musketeers was desirous of preserving an incognito on his route, for Athos derived from his inquiries an assurance that such a cavalier as he described had exchanged his horse for a well-closed carriage on quitting Avignon.

Raoul was much affected at not meeting with d’Artagnan. His affectionate heart longed to take a farewell and receive consolation from that heart of steel. Athos knew from experience that d’Artagnan became impenetrable when engaged in any serious affair, whether on his own account or in the service of the King. He even feared to offend his friend, or thwart him, by too pressing inquiries. And yet when Raoul began his labor of classing the flotilla, and got together the chalands and lighters to send them to Toulon, one of the fishermen told the count that his boat had been laid up to refit since a trip he had made on account of a gentleman who was in great haste to embark. Athos, believing that this man was telling a falsehood in order to be left at liberty to fish, and so gain more money when all his companions were gone, insisted upon having the details.

The fisherman informed him that six days previously a man had come in the night to hire his boat, for the purpose of visiting the Island of St. Honorat. The price was agreed upon; but the gentleman had arrived with an immense carriage-case, which he insisted upon embarking in spite of all the difficulties which opposed themselves to that operation. The fisherman had wished to retract; he had even threatened, but his threats had procured him nothing but a shower of blows from the gentleman’s cane, which fell upon his shoulders, sharp and long. Swearing and grumbling, he had recourse to the syndic of his brotherhood at Antibes, who administer justice among themselves and protect one another; but the gentleman had exhibited a certain paper, at the sight of which the syndic, bowing to the very ground, had enjoined obedience upon the fisherman, and abused him for having been refractory. They then departed with the freight.

“But all this does not tell us,” said Athos, “how you have injured your boat.”

“This is the way. I was steering towards St. Honorat as the gentleman had desired me; but he changed his mind, and pretended that I could not pass to the south of the abbey.”

“And why not?”

“Because, Monsieur, there is in front of the square tower of the Benedictines, towards the southern point, the bank of the Moines.”

“A rock?” asked Athos.