“What the devil, Athos, do you mean by the royal house?” stammered d’Artagnan. “You don’t mean that you, a well-informed and sensible man, can place any faith in the nonsense written by an idiot?”
“I do believe in it.”
“With the more reason, my dear chevalier, for your having orders to kill all those who do believe in it,” said Raoul.
“That is because,” replied the captain of the Musketeers,- “because every calumny, however absurd it may be, has the almost certain chance of becoming popular.”
“No, d’Artagnan,” replied Athos, in a low tone; “but because the King is not willing that the secret of his family should transpire among the people, and cover with shame the executioners of the son of Louis XIII.”
“Do not talk in such a childish manner, Athos, or I shall begin to think you have lost your senses. Besides, explain to me how it is possible Louis XIII should have a son in the Isle of Ste. Marguerite?”
“A son whom you have brought hither masked, in a fishing-boat,” said Athos. “Why not?”
D’Artagnan was brought to a pause. “Ah, ah!” said he; “whence do you know that a fishing-boat-”
“Brought you to Ste. Marguerite with the carriage-case containing the prisoner,- with a prisoner whom you styled Monseigneur. Oh, I am acquainted with all that,” resumed the count. D’Artagnan bit his mustache.
“If it were true,” said he, “that I had brought hither in a boat and with a carriage a masked prisoner, nothing proves that this prisoner must be a Prince,- a Prince of the house of France.”
“Oh! ask that of Aramis,” replied Athos, coolly.
“Of Aramis!” cried the musketeer, quite at a stand. “Have you seen Aramis?”
“After his discomfiture at Vaux, yes. I have seen Aramis, a fugitive, pursued, ruined; and Aramis has told me enough to make me believe in the complaints that this unfortunate young man inscribed upon the silver plate.”
D’Artagnan’s head sunk upon his breast with confusion. “This is the way,” said he, “in which God turns to nothing that which men call their wisdom! A fine secret must that be of which twelve or fifteen persons hold the tattered fragments! Athos, cursed be the chance which has brought you face to face with me in this affair! for now-”
“Well,” said Athos, with his customary mild severity, “is your secret lost because I know it? Consult your memory, my friend. Have I not borne secrets as heavy as this?”
“You have never borne one so dangerous,” replied d’Artagnan, in a tone of sadness. “I have something like a sinister idea that all who are concerned with this secret will die, and die unfortunately.”
“The will of God be done!” said Athos; “but here is your governor.”
D’Artagnan and his friends immediately resumed their parts. The governor, suspicious and hard, behaved towards d’Artagnan with a politeness almost amounting to obsequiousness. With respect to the travellers, he contented himself with offering them good cheer, and never taking his eye from them. Athos and Raoul observed that he often tried to embarrass them by sudden attacks, or to catch them off their guard; but neither the one nor the other gave him the least advantage. What d’Artagnan had said was probable, if the governor did not believe it to be quite true. They rose from the table to repose awhile.
“What is this man’s name? I don’t like the looks of him,” said Athos to d’Artagnan, in Spanish.
“De Saint-Mars,” replied the captain.
“He will be, then, the Prince’s jailer?”
“Eh! how can I tell? I may be kept at Ste. Marguerite forever.”
“Oh, no, not you!”
“My friend, I am in the situation of a man who finds a treasure in the midst of a desert. He would like to carry it away, but he cannot; he would like to leave it, but he dare not. The King will not dare to recall me, for fear no one else would serve him as faithfully as I; he regrets not having me near him, from being aware that no one will be of so much service near his person as myself. But it will happen as it may please God.”