“That is a very beautiful ring you have on your finger.”
“It is worth three hundred pistoles,” said Porthos.
“Madame Truchen will remember you better if you leave her that ring,” replied D’Artagnan, a suggestion which Porthos seemed to hesitate to adopt.
“You think it is not beautiful enough, perhaps,” said the musketeer. “I understand your feelings; a great lord such as you would not think of accepting the hospitality of an old servant without paying him most handsomely for it: but I am sure that Planchet is too good-hearted a fellow to remember that you have an income of a hundred thousand francs a year.”
“I have more than half a mind,” said Porthos, flattered by the remark, “to make Madame Truchen a present of my little farm at Bracieux; it has twelve acres.”
“It is too much, my good Porthos, too much just at present… Keep it for a future occasion.” He then took the ring off Porthos’s finger, and approaching Truchen, said to her: – “Madame, monsieur le baron hardly knows how to entreat you, out of your regard for him, to accept this little ring. M. du Vallon is one of the most generous and discreet men of my acquaintance. He wished to offer you a farm that he has at Bracieux, but I dissuaded him from it.”
“Oh!” said Truchen, looking eagerly at the diamond.
“Monsieur le baron!” exclaimed Planchet, quite overcome.
“My good friend,” stammered out Porthos, delighted at having been so well represented by D’Artagnan. These several exclamations, uttered at the same moment, made quite a pathetic winding-up of a day which might have finished in a very ridiculous manner. But D’Artagnan was there, and, on every occasion, wheresoever D’Artagnan exercised any control, matters ended only just in the very way he wished and willed. There were general embracings; Truchen, whom the baron’s munificence had restored to her proper position, very timidly, and blushing all the while, presented her forehead to the great lord with whom she had been on such very pretty terms the evening before. Planchet himself was overcome by a feeling of genuine humility. Still, in the same generosity of disposition, Porthos would have emptied his pockets into the hands of the cook and of Celestin; but D’Artagnan stopped him.
“No,” he said, “it is now my turn.” And he gave one pistole to the woman and two to the man; and the benedictions which were showered down upon them would have rejoiced the heart of Harpagon himself, and have rendered even him a prodigal.
D’Artagnan made Planchet lead them to the chateau, and introduced Porthos into his own apartment, where he arrived safely without having been perceived by those he was afraid of meeting.
Chapter VIII. The Presentation of Porthos at Court
At seven o’clock the same evening, the king gave an audience to an ambassador from the United Provinces, in the grand reception-room. The audience lasted a quarter of an hour. His majesty afterwards received those who had been recently presented, together with a few ladies, who paid their respects first. In one corner of the salon, concealed behind a column, Porthos and D’Artagnan were conversing together, waiting until their turn arrived.
“Have you heard the news?” inquired the musketeer of his friend.
“No!”
“Well, look, then.” Porthos raised himself on tiptoe, and saw M. Fouquet in full court dress, leading Aramis towards the king.
“Aramis!” said Porthos.
“Presented to the king by M. Fouquet.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Porthos.
“For having fortified Belle-Isle,” continued D’Artagnan.
“And I?”
“You – oh, you! as I have already had the honor of telling you, are the good-natured, kind-hearted Porthos; and so they begged you to take care of Saint-Mande a little.”
“Ah!” repeated Porthos.
“But, happily, I was there,” said D’Artagnan, “and presently it will be my turn.”
At this moment Fouquet addressed the king.
“Sire,” he said, “I have a favor to solicit of your majesty. M. d’Herblay is not ambitious, but he knows when he can be of service. Your majesty needs a representative at Rome, who would be able to exercise a powerful influence there; may I request a cardinal’s hat for M. d’Herblay?” The king started. “I do not often solicit anything of your majesty,” said Fouquet.
“That is a reason, certainly,” replied the king, who always expressed any hesitation he might have in that manner, and to which remark there was nothing to say in reply.
Fouquet and Aramis looked at each other. The king resumed: “M. d’Herblay can serve us equally well in France; an archbishopric, for instance.”
“Sire,” objected Fouquet, with a grace of manner peculiarly his own, “your majesty overwhelms M. d’Herblay; the archbishopric may, in your majesty’s extreme kindness, be conferred in addition to the hat; the one does not exclude the other.”
The king admired the readiness which he displayed, and smiled, saying: “D’Artagnan himself could not have answered better.” He had no sooner pronounced the name than D’Artagnan appeared.
“Did your majesty call me?” he said.
Aramis and Fouquet drew back a step, as if they were about to retire.
“Will your majesty allow me,” said D’Artagnan quickly, as he led forward Porthos, “to present to your majesty M. le Baron du Vallon, one of the bravest gentlemen of France?”
As soon as Aramis saw Porthos, he turned as pale as death, while Fouquet clenched his hands under his ruffles. D’Artagnan smiled blandly at both of them, while Porthos bowed, visibly overcome before the royal presence.
“Porthos here?” murmured Fouquet in Aramis’s ear.
“Hush! deep treachery at work,” hissed the latter.
“Sire,” said D’Artagnan, “it is more than six years ago I ought to have presented M. du Vallon to your majesty; but certain men resemble stars, they move not one inch unless their satellites accompany them. The Pleiades are never disunited, and that is the reason I have selected, for the purpose of presenting him to you, the very moment when you would see M. d’Herblay by his side.”
Aramis almost lost countenance. He looked at D’Artagnan with a proud, haughty air, as though willing to accept the defiance the latter seemed to throw down.
“Ah! these gentlemen are good friends, then?” said the king.
“Excellent friends, sire; the one can answer for the other. Ask M. de Vannes now in what manner Belle-Isle was fortified?” Fouquet moved back a step.
“Belle-Isle,” said Aramis, coldly, “was fortified by that gentleman,” and he indicated Porthos with his hand, who bowed a second time. Louis could not withhold his admiration, though at the same time his suspicions were aroused.
“Yes,” said D’Artagnan, “but ask monsieur le baron whose assistance he had in carrying the works out?”
“Aramis’s,” said Porthos,
