Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part two

since I visited my castles.”

“Forget them for a time; we shall return to them, unless

Mazarin razes them to the ground.”

“Do you think that likely?”

“No, the other cardinal would have done so, but this one is

too mean a fellow to risk it.”

“You reconcile me, D’Artagnan.”

“Well, then, assume a cheerful manner, as I do; we must joke

with the guards, we must gain the good-will of the soldiers,

since we can’t corrupt them. Try, Porthos, to please them

more than you are wont to do when they are under our

windows. Thus far you have done nothing but show them your

fist; and the more respectable your fist is, Porthos, the

less attractive it is. Ah, I would give much to have five

hundred louis, only.”

“So would I,” said Porthos, unwilling to be behind

D’Artagnan in generosity; “I would give as much as a hundred

pistoles.”

The two prisoners were at this point of their conversation

when Comminges entered, preceded by a sergeant and two men,

who brought supper in a basket with two handles, filled with

basins and plates.

“What!” exclaimed Porthos, “mutton again?”

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

“My dear Monsieur de Comminges,” said D’Artagnan, “you will

find that my friend, Monsieur du Vallon, will go to the most

fatal lengths if Cardinal Mazarin continues to provide us

with this sort of meat; mutton every day.”

“I declare,” said Porthos, “I shall eat nothing if they do

not take it away.”

“Remove the mutton,” cried Comminges; “I wish Monsieur du

Vallon to sup well, more especially as I have news to give

him that will improve his appetite.”

“Is Mazarin dead?” asked Porthos.

“No; I am sorry to tell you he is perfectly well.”

“So much the worse,” said Porthos.

“What is that news?” asked D’Artagnan. “News in prison is a

fruit so rare that I trust, Monsieur de Comminges, you will

excuse my impatience — the more eager since you have given

us to understand that the news is good.”

“Should you be glad to hear that the Comte de la Fere is

well?” asked De Comminges.

D’Artagnan’s penetrating gray eyes were opened to the

utmost.

“Glad!” he cried; “I should be more than glad! Happy —

beyond measure!”

“Well, I am desired by him to give you his compliments and

to say that he is in good health.”

D’Artagnan almost leaped with joy. A quick glance conveyed

his thought to Porthos: “If Athos knows where we are, if he

opens communication with us, before long Athos will act.”

Porthos was not very quick to understand the language of

glances, but now since the name of Athos had suggested to

him the same idea, he understood.

“Do you say,” asked the Gascon, timidly, “that the Comte de

la Fere has commissioned you to give his compliments to

Monsieur du Vallon and myself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you have seen him?”

“Certainly I have.”

“Where? if I may ask without indiscretion.”

“Near here,” replied De Comminges, smiling; “so near that if

the windows which look on the orangery were not stopped up

you could see him from where you are.”

“He is wandering about the environs of the castle,” thought

D’Artagnan. Then he said aloud:

“You met him, I dare say, in the park — hunting, perhaps?”

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

“No; nearer, nearer still. Look, behind this wall,” said De

Comminges, knocking against the wall.

“Behind this wall? What is there, then, behind this wall? I

was brought here by night, so devil take me if I know where

I am.”

“Well,” said Comminges, “suppose one thing.”

“I will suppose anything you please.”

“Suppose there were a window in this wall.”

“Well?”

“From that window you would see Monsieur de la Fere at his.”

“The count, then, is in the chateau?”

“Yes.”

“For what reason?”

“The same as yourself.”

“Athos — a prisoner?”

“You know well,” replied De Comminges, “that there are no

prisoners at Rueil, because there is no prison.”

“Don’t let us play upon words, sir. Athos has been

arrested.”

“Yesterday, at Saint Germain, as he came out from the

presence of the queen.”

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