loved him; nevertheless, believe that I heartily pray that I
may not become to him a father, however much I might be
proud of such a son.
“Your
“D’Artagnan.
“P.S. — Be it well understood that the fifty louis which I
send are equally for Aramis as for you — for you as
Aramis.”
Athos smiled, and his fine eye was dimmed by a tear.
D’Artagnan, who had loved him so tenderly, loved him still,
although a Mazarinist.
“There are the fifty louis, i’faith,” said Aramis, emptying
the purse on the table, all bearing the effigy of Louis
XIII. “Well, what shall you do with this money, count? Shall
you keep it or send it back?”
“I shall keep it, Aramis, and even though I had no need of
it I still should keep it. What is offered from a generous
heart should be accepted generously. Take twenty-five of
them, Aramis, and give me the remaining twenty-five.”
“All right; I am glad to see you are of my opinion. There
now, shall we start?”
“When you like; but have you no groom?”
“No; that idiot Bazin had the folly to make himself verger,
as you know, and therefore cannot leave Notre Dame.
“Very well, take Blaisois, with whom I know not what to do,
since I already have Grimaud.”
“Willingly,” said Aramis.
At this moment Grimaud appeared at the door. “Ready,” said
he, with his usual curtness.
“Let us go, then,” said Athos.
The two friends mounted, as did their servants. At the
corner of the Quai they encountered Bazin, who was running
breathlessly.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed he, “thank Heaven I have arrived in
time. Monsieur Porthos has just been to your house and has
left this for you, saying that the letter was important and
must be given to you before you left.”
“Good,” said Aramis, taking a purse which Bazin presented to
him. “What is this?”
“Wait, your reverence, there is a letter.”
“You know I have already told you that if you ever call me
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anything but chevalier I will break every bone in your body.
Give me the letter.”
“How can you read?” asked Athos, “it is as dark as a cold
oven.”
“Wait,” said Bazin, striking a flint, and setting afire a
twisted wax-light, with which he started the church candles.
Thus illumined, Aramis read the following epistle:
My dear D’Herblay, — I learned from D’Artagnan who has
embraced me on the part of the Comte de la Fere and
yourself, that you are setting out on a journey which may
perhaps last two or three months; as I know that you do not
like to ask money of your friends I offer you some of my own
accord. Here are two hundred pistoles, which you can dispose
of as you wish and return to me when opportunity occurs. Do
not fear that you put me to inconvenience; if I want money I
can send for some to any of my chateaux; at Bracieux alone,
I have twenty thousand francs in gold. So, if I do not send
you more it is because I fear you would not accept a larger
sum.
“I address you, because you know, that although I esteem him
from my heart I am a little awed by the Comte de la Fere;
but it is understood that what I offer you I offer him at
the same time.
“I am, as I trust you do not doubt, your devoted
“Du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.
“Well,” said Aramis, “what do you say to that?”
“I say, my dear D’Herblay, that it is almost sacrilege to
distrust Providence when one has such friends, and therefore
we will divide the pistoles from Porthos, as we divided the
louis sent by D’Artagnan.”
The division being made by the light of Bazin’s taper, the
two friends continued their road and a quarter of an hour
later they had joined De Winter at the Porte Saint Denis.
43
In which it is proved that first Impulses are oftentimes the
best.
The three gentlemen took the road to Picardy, a road so well
known to them and which recalled to Athos and Aramis some of