Twenty Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

utter either the former name borne by Porthos or his new

one, “then he has not forgotten me?”

“Forgotten — he!” cried Mousqueton; “there’s not a day, sir,

that we don’t expect to hear that you were made marshal

either instead of Monsieur de Gassion, or of Monsieur de

Bassompierre.”

On D’Artagnan’s lips there played one of those rare and

melancholy smiles which seemed to emanate from the depth of

his soul — the last trace of youth and happiness that had

survived life’s disillusions.

“And you — fellows,” resumed Mousqueton, “stay near Monsieur

le Comte d’Artagnan and pay him every attention in your

power whilst I go to prepare my lord for his visit.”

And mounting his horse Mousqueton rode off down the avenue on

the grass at a hand gallop.

“Ah, there! there’s something promising,” said D’Artagnan.

“No mysteries, no cloak to hide one’s self in, no cunning

policy here; people laugh outright, they weep for joy here.

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I see nothing but faces a yard broad; in short, it seems to

me that nature herself wears a holiday garb, and that the

trees, instead of leaves and flowers, are covered with red

and green ribbons as on gala days.”

“As for me,” said Planchet, “I seem to smell, from this

place, even, a most delectable perfume of fine roast meat,

and to see the scullions in a row by the hedge, hailing our

approach. Ah! sir, what a cook must Monsieur Pierrefonds

have, when he was so fond of eating and drinking, even

whilst he was only called Monsieur Porthos!”

“Say no more!” cried D’Artagnan. “If the reality corresponds

with appearances I am lost; for a man so well off will never

change his happy condition, and I shall fail with him, as I

have already done with Aramis.”

11

How D’Artagnan, in discovering the Retreat of Porthos,

perceives that Wealth does not necessarily produce

Happiness.

D’Artagnan passed through the iron gate and arrived in front

of the chateau. He alighted as he saw a species of giant on

the steps. Let us do justice to D’Artagnan. Independently of

every selfish wish, his heart palpitated with joy when he

saw that tall form and martial demeanor, which recalled to

him a good and brave man.

He ran to Porthos and threw himself into his arms; the whole

body of servants, arranged in a semi-circle at a respectful

distance, looked on with humble curiosity. Mousqueton, at the

head of them, wiped his eyes. Porthos linked his arm in that

of his friend.

“Ah! how delightful to see you again, dear friend!” he

cried, in a voice which was now changed from a baritone into

a bass, “you’ve not then forgotten me?”

“Forget you! oh! dear Du Vallon, does one forget the

happiest days of flowery youth, one’s dearest friends, the

dangers we have dared together? On the contrary, there is

not an hour we have passed together that is not present to

my memory.”

“Yes, yes,” said Porthos, trying to give to his mustache a

curl which it had lost whilst he had been alone. “Yes, we

did some fine things in our time and we gave that poor

cardinal a few threads to unravel.”

And he heaved a sigh.

“Under any circumstances,” he resumed, “you are welcome, my

dear friend; you will help me to recover my spirits;

to-morrow we will hunt the hare on my plain, which is a

superb tract of land, or pursue the deer in my woods, which

are magnificent. I have four harriers which are considered

the swiftest in the county, and a pack of hounds which are

unequalled for twenty leagues around.”

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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After

And Porthos heaved another sigh.

“But, first,” interposed D’Artagnan, “you must present me to

Madame du Vallon.”

A third sigh from Porthos.

“I lost Madame du Vallon two years ago,” he said, “and you

find me still in affliction on that account. That was the

reason why I left my Chateau du Vallon near Corbeil, and

came to my estate, Bracieux. Poor Madame du Vallon! her

temper was uncertain, but she came at last to accustom

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