What! you, the hero of the fete, you are not prancing on the
left hand of the king, as M. Monk is prancing on the right?
In truth, I cannot comprehend your character, nor that of
the prince who owes you so much!”
“Always scornful, my dear D’Artagnan!” said Athos. “Will you
never correct yourself of that vile habit?”
“But, you do not form part of the pageant?”
“I do not, because I was not willing to do so.”
“And why were you not willing?”
“Because I am neither envoy nor ambassador, nor
representative of the king of France; and it does not become
me to exhibit myself thus near the person of another king
than the one God has given me for a master.”
“Mordioux! you came very near to the person of the king, his
father.”
“That was another thing, my friend; he was about to die.”
“And yet that which you did for him —- ”
“I did it because it was my duty to do it. But you know I
hate all ostentation. Let King Charles II., then, who no
longer stands in need of me, leave me to my rest, and in the
shadow; that is all I claim of him.”
D’Artagnan sighed.
“What is the matter with you?” said Athos. “One would say
that this happy return of the king to London saddens you, my
friend; you who have done at least as much for his majesty
as I have.”
“Have I not,” replied D’Artagnan, with his Gascon laugh,
“have I not done much for his majesty, without any one
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suspecting it?”
“Yes, yes, but the king is well aware of it my friend,”
cried Athos.
“He is aware of it!” said the musketeer bitterly. “By my
faith! I did not suspect so, and I was even a moment ago
trying to forget it myself.”
“But he, my friend, will not forget it, I will answer for
him.”
“You tell me that to console me a little, Athos.”
“For what?”
“Mordioux! for all the expense I incurred. I have ruined
myself, my friend, ruined myself for the restoration of this
young prince who has just passed, cantering on his isabelle
colored horse.”
“The king does not know you have ruined yourself, my friend,
but he knows he owes you much.”
“And say, Athos, does that advance me in any respect? for,
to do you justice, you have labored nobly. But I — I, who
in appearance marred your combinations, it was I who really
made them succeed. Follow my calculations; closely, you
might not have, by persuasions or mildness convinced General
Monk, whilst I so roughly treated this dear general, that I
furnished your prince with an opportunity of showing himself
generous: this generosity was inspired in him by the fact of
my fortunate mistake, and Charles is paid by the restoration
which Monk has brought about.”
“All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true,” replied
Athos.
“Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, my
friend, that I shall return — greatly beloved by M. Monk,
who calls me dear captain all day long, although I am
neither dear to him nor a captain; — and much appreciated
by the king, who has already forgotten my name; — it is not
less true, I say, that I shall return to my beautiful
country, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopes
of large pay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of whom I
borrowed a part of his fortune.”
“How is that? What the devil had Planchet to do in all
this?”
“Ah, yes, my friend, but this king, so spruce, so smiling,
so adored, M. Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancy
you have supported him, I fancy I have brought him back, the
people fancy they have reconquered him, he himself fancies
he has negotiated his restoration; and yet nothing of all
this is true, for Charles II., king of England, Scotland,
and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French
grocer, who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is named
Planchet. And such is grandeur! `Vanity!’ says the