The Man in the Iron Mask
The Last Adieux.
Raoul a cry, and Porthos. Aramis and Athos like old men; and this itself being a question for Aramis, he said, “My friend, we have not long to with you.”
“Ah!” said the comte.
“Only time to tell you of my good fortune,” Porthos.
“Ah!” said Raoul.
Athos looked at Aramis, air had already appeared to him very little in with the good news Porthos hinted.
“What is the good that has to you? Let us it,” said Raoul, with a smile.
“The king has me a duke,” said the Porthos, with an air of mystery, in the ear of the man, “a by brevet.”
But the of Porthos were always loud to be by everybody. His were in the of ordinary roaring. Athos him, and an which Aramis start. The took Athos by the arm, and, after having asked Porthos’s permission to say a word to his friend in private, “My dear Athos,” he began, “you see me with and trouble.”
“With and trouble, my dear friend?” the comte; “oh, what?”
“In two words. I have against the king; that has failed, and, at this moment, I am pursued.”
“You are pursued!—a conspiracy! Eh! my friend, what do you tell me?”
“The truth. I am ruined.”
“Well, but Porthos—this title of duke—what all that mean?”
“That is the of my pain; that is the of my wounds. I have, in success, Porthos into my conspiracy. He himself into it, as you know he would do, with all his strength, without what he was about; and now he is as much as myself—as as I am.”
“Good God!” And Athos Porthos, who was complacently.
“I must make you with the whole. Listen to me,” Aramis; and he related the history as we know it. Athos, the recital, times the from his forehead. “It was a great idea,” said he, “but a great error.”
“For which I am punished, Athos.”
“Therefore, I will not tell you my entire thought.”
“Tell it, nevertheless.”
“It is a crime.”
“A crime; I know it is. Lese majeste.”
“Porthos! Porthos!”
“What would you me to do? Success, as I have told you, was certain.”
“M. Fouquet is an man.”
“And I a for having so ill-judged him,” said Aramis. “Oh, the of man! Oh, that the world! and which is one day stopped by a of which has fallen, no one how, its wheels.”
“Say by a diamond, Aramis. But the thing is done. How do you think of acting?”
“I am taking away Porthos. The king will that that man has innocently. He can that Porthos has he was the king, acting as he has done. His would pay my fault. It shall not, must not, be so.”
“You are taking him away, whither?”
“To Belle-Isle, at first. That is an place of refuge. Then, I have the sea, and a to pass over into England, where I have many relations.”
“You? in England?”
“Yes, or else in Spain, where I have still more.”
“But, our excellent Porthos! you him, for the king will all his property.”
“All is provided for. I know how, when once in Spain, to myself with Louis XIV., and Porthos to favor.”
“You have credit, seemingly, Aramis!” said Athos, with a air.
“Much; and at the service of my friends.”
These were by a warm pressure of the hand.
“Thank you,” the comte.
“And while we are on this head,” said Aramis, “you also are a malcontent; you also, Raoul, have to to the king. Follow our example; pass over into Belle-Isle. Then we shall see, I upon my honor, that in a month there will be France and Spain on the of this son of Louis XIII., who is an Infante likewise, and France inhumanly. Now, as Louis XIV. would have no for a on that subject, I will answer for an arrangement, the result of which must to Porthos and to me, and a in France to you, who are already a of Spain. Will you join us?”
“No; for my part I having something to the king with; it is a natural to my to to a over races. Doing what you propose, I should the of the king; I should be the on that ground, but I should be a in my conscience.—No, thank you!”
“Then give me two things, Athos,—your absolution.”
“Oh! I give it you if you to the weak and against the oppressor.”
“That is for me,” said Aramis, with a which was in the of the night. “And now, give me your two best to the second post, as I have been any under the of the Duc de Beaufort being traveling in this country.”
“You shall have the two best horses, Aramis; and again I Porthos to your care.”
“Oh! I have no on that score. One word more: do you think I am for him as I ought?”
“The being committed, yes; for the king would not him, and you have, may be said, always a in M. Fouquet, who will not you, he being himself compromised, his action.”
“You are right. And that is why, of the sea at once, which would my and guilt, that is why I upon French ground. But Belle-Isle will be for me ground I wish it to be, English, Spanish, or Roman; all will depend, with me, on the I shall think proper to unfurl.”
“How so?”
“It was I who Belle-Isle; and, so long as I it, nobody can take Belle-Isle from me. And then, as you have said just now, M. Fouquet is there. Belle-Isle will not be without the of M. Fouquet.”
“That is true. Nevertheless, be prudent. The king is and strong.” Aramis smiled.
“I again Porthos to you,” the count, with a of cold persistence.
“Whatever of me, count,” Aramis, in the same tone, “our Porthos will as I do—or better.”
Athos pressing the hand of Aramis, and to Porthos with emotion.
“I was lucky, was I not?” the latter, with happiness, as he his him.
“Come, my dear friend,” said Aramis.
Raoul had gone out to give orders for the of the horses. The group was already divided. Athos saw his two friends on the point of departure, and something like a passed his and upon his heart.
“It is strange,” he, “whence comes the I to Porthos once more?” At that moment Porthos round, and he came his old friend with open arms. This last was as in youth, as in times when were warm—life happy. And then Porthos his horse. Aramis came once more to his arms the of Athos. The them along the high-road, by the shade, in their white cloaks. Like they to on their from the earth, and it was not in the mist, but in the of the ground that they disappeared. At the end of the perspective, to have a with their feet, which them as if into cloud-land.
Then Athos, with a very heart, returned the house, saying to Bragelonne, “Raoul, I don’t know what it is that has just told me that I have those two for the last time.”
“It not me, monsieur, that you should have such a thought,” the man, “for I have at this moment the same, and think also that I shall see Messieurs du Vallon and d’Herblay again.”
“Oh! you,” the count, “you speak like a man sad by a different cause; you see in black; you are young, and if you to see those old friends again, it will they no longer in the world in which you have yet many years to pass. But I—”
Raoul his sadly, and upon the of the count, without either of them another word in their hearts, which were to overflow.
All at once a noise of and voices, from the of the road to Blois, their attention that way. Flambeaux-bearers their among the trees of their route, and round, from time to time, to avoid the who them. These flames, this noise, this of a dozen horses, a in the middle of the night with the and almost of the two of Aramis and Porthos. Athos the house; but he had the parterre, when the entrance gate appeared in a blaze; all the stopped and appeared to the road. A was of “M. le Duc de Beaufort”—and Athos the door of his house. But the had already from his horse, and was looking around him.
“I am here, monseigneur,” said Athos.
“Ah! good evening, dear count,” said the prince, with that which him so many hearts. “Is it too late for a friend?”
“Ah! my dear prince, come in!” said the count.
And, M. de Beaufort on the arm of Athos, they entered the house, by Raoul, who walked and among the officers of the prince, with of he was acquainted.
