half shaved.
Colbert tore his ruffles to pieces in his rage, and bit his
lips till they bled.
Fouquet had not passed the door of the cabinet, when an
usher pushing by him, exclaimed: “A courier from Bretagne
for his majesty.”
“M. d’Herblay was right,” murmured Fouquet, pulling out his
watch; “an hour and fifty-five minutes. It was quite true.”
CHAPTER 76
In which D’Artagnan finishes by at length
placing his Hand upon his Captain’s Commission
The reader guesses beforehand whom the usher preceded in
announcing the courier from Bretagne. This messenger was
easily recognized. It was D’Artagnan, his clothes dusty, his
face inflamed, his hair dripping with sweat, his legs stiff;
he lifted his feet painfully at every step, on which
resounded the clink of his blood-stained spurs. He perceived
in the doorway he was passing through, the superintendent
coming out. Fouquet bowed with a smile to him who, an hour
before, was bringing him ruin and death. D’Artagnan found in
his goodness of heart, and in his inexhaustible vigor of
body, enough presence of mind to remember the kind reception
of this man; he bowed then, also, much more from benevolence
and compassion, than from respect. He felt upon his lips the
word which had so many times been repeated to the Duc de
Guise: “Fly.” But to pronounce that word would have been to
betray his cause; to speak that word in the cabinet of the
king, and before an usher, would have been to ruin himself
gratuitously, and could save nobody. D’Artagnan then
contented himself with bowing to Fouquet and entered. At
this moment the king floated between the joy the last words
of Fouquet had given him, and his pleasure at the return of
D’Artagnan. Without being a courtier, D’Artagnan had a
glance as sure and as rapid as if he had been one. He read,
on his entrance, devouring humiliation on the countenance of
Colbert. He even heard the king say these words to him; —
“Ah! Monsieur Colbert, you have then nine hundred thousand
livres at the intendance?” Colbert, suffocated, bowed, but
made no reply. All this scene entered into the mind of
D’Artagnan, by the eyes and ears, at once.
The first word of Louis to his musketeer, as if he wished it
to contrast with what he was saying at the moment, was a
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
kind “good day.” His second was to send away Colbert. The
latter left the king’s cabinet, pallid and tottering, whilst
D’Artagnan twisted up the ends of his mustache.
“I love to see one of my servants in this disorder,” said
the king, admiring the martial stains upon the clothes of
his envoy.
“I thought, sire, my presence at the Louvre was sufficiently
urgent to excuse my presenting myself thus before you.”
“You bring me great news, then, monsieur?”
“Sire, the thing is this, in two words: Belle-Isle is
fortified, admirably fortified; Belle-Isle has a double
enciete, a citadel, two detached forts; its ports contain
three corsairs; and the side batteries only await their
cannon.”
“I know all that, monsieur,” replied the king.
“What! your majesty knows all that?” replied the musketeer,
stupefied.
“I have the plan of the fortifications of Belle-Isle,” said
the king.
“Your majesty has the plan?”
“Here it is.”
“It is really correct, sire: I saw a similar one on the
spot.”
D’Artagnan’s brow became clouded.
“Ah! I understand all. Your majesty did not trust to me
alone, but sent some other person,” said he in a reproachful
tone.
“Of what importance is the manner, monsieur, in which I have
learnt what I know, so that I know it?”
“Sire, sire,” said the musketeer, without seeking even to
conceal his dissatisfaction; “but I must be permitted to say
to your majesty, that it is not worth while to make me use
such speed, to risk twenty times the breaking of my neck, to
salute me on my arrival with such intelligence. Sire, when
people are not trusted, or are deemed insufficient, they
should scarcely be employed.” And D’Artagnan, with a
movement perfectly military, stamped with his foot, and left
upon the floor dust stained with blood. The king looked at