The Man in the Iron Mask
Planchet’s Inventory.
Athos, the visit to the Luxembourg by Raoul, had gone to Planchet’s to after D’Artagnan. The comte, on at the Rue Lombards, the shop of the in great confusion; but it was not the of a lucky sale, or that of an of goods. Planchet was not enthroned, as usual, on and barrels. No. A man with a pen his ear, and another with an account-book in his hand, were setting a number of figures, a third and weighed. An was being taken. Athos, who had no knowledge of matters, himself a little embarrassed by material and the of those who were thus employed. He saw sent away, and asked himself he, who came to nothing, would not be more properly importunate. He therefore asked very if he see M. Planchet. The reply, given, was that M. Planchet was packing his trunks. These Athos. “What! his trunks?” said he; “is M. Planchet going away?”
“Yes, monsieur, directly.”
“Then, if you please, him that M. le Comte de la Fere to speak to him for a moment.”
At the mention of the comte’s name, one of the men, no to it with respect, to Planchet. It was at this moment that Raoul, after his painful with Montalais and De Guiche, at the grocer’s house. Planchet left his job directly he the comte’s message.
“Ah! le comte!” he, “how I am to see you! What good star you here?”
“My dear Planchet,” said Athos, pressing the hand of his son, sad look he observed,—“we are come to learn of you—But in what do I you! You are as white as a miller; where have you been rummaging?”
“Ah, diable! take care, monsieur; don’t come near me till I have well myself.”
“What for? Flour or only whiten.”
“No, no; what you see on my arms is arsenic.”
“Arsenic?”
“Yes; I am taking my against rats.”
“Ay, I in an like this, play a part.”
“It is not with this I myself, le comte. The have me of more here than they will me of again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, you may have observed, monsieur, my is being taken.”
“Are you trade, then?”
“Eh! Dieu! yes. I have of my to one of my men.”
“Bah! you are rich, then, I suppose?”
“Monsieur, I have taken a to the city; I don’t know it is I am old, and as M. d’Artagnan one day said, when we old we more often think of the of our youth; but for some time past I have myself the country and gardening. I was a formerly.” And Planchet marked this with a laugh for a man making of humility.
Athos a of approval, and then added: “You are going to an estate, then?”
“I have one, monsieur.”
“Ah! that is still better.”
“A little house at Fontainebleau, with something like twenty of land it.”
“Very well, Planchet! Accept my on your acquisition.”
“But, monsieur, we are not here; the makes you cough. Corbleu! I do not wish to the most in the kingdom.”
Athos did not at this little which Planchet had at him, in order to try his in facetiousness.
“Yes,” said Athos, “let us have a little talk by ourselves—in your own room, for example. You have a room, have you not?”
“Certainly, le comte.”
“Upstairs, perhaps?” And Athos, Planchet a little embarrassed, to him by going first.
“It is—but—” said Planchet, hesitating.
Athos was in the of this hesitation, and, it to a the might have of hospitality, “Never mind, mind,” said he, still going up, “the of a in this is not to be a palace. Come on.”
Raoul him, and entered first. Two were simultaneously—we may say three. One of these the others; it from a woman. Another from the mouth of Raoul; it was an of surprise. He had no sooner it than he the door sharply. The third was from fright; it came from Planchet.
“I ask your pardon!” added he; “madame is dressing.”
Raoul had, no doubt, that what Planchet said was true, for he to go again.
“Madame—” said Athos. “Oh! me, Planchet, I did not know that you had upstairs—”
“It is Truchen,” added Planchet, a little.
“It is you please, my good Planchet; but my rudeness.”
“No, no; go up now, gentlemen.”
“We will do no such thing,” said Athos.
“Oh! madame, having notice, has had time—”
“No, Planchet; farewell!”
“Eh, gentlemen! you would not me by thus on the staircase, or by going away without having sat down.”
“If we had you had a lady upstairs,” Athos, with his coolness, “we would have asked permission to pay our respects to her.”
Planchet was so by this little extravagance, that he the passage, and himself opened the door to admit the and his son. Truchen was dressed: in the of the shopkeeper’s wife, rich yet coquettish; German French eyes. She left the after two courtesies, and into the shop—but not without having at the door, to know what Planchet’s visitors would say of her. Athos that, and therefore the accordingly. Planchet, on his part, was to give explanations, which Athos avoided. But, as are than others, Athos was to Planchet his of felicity, into a language more than that of Longus. So Planchet related how Truchen had the years of his age, and good luck to his business, as Ruth did to Boaz.
“You want nothing now, then, but to your property.”
“If I had one he would have three hundred thousand livres,” said Planchet.
“Humph! you must have one, then,” said Athos, phlegmatically, “if only to prevent your little being lost.”
This word little Planchet in his rank, like the voice of the when Planchet was but a in the of Piedmont, in which Rochefort had him. Athos that the would Truchen, and, in of fate, a family. This appeared the more to him when he learned that the man to Planchet was selling the was her cousin. Having all that was necessary of the happy of the retiring grocer, “What is M. d’Artagnan about?” said he; “he is not at the Louvre.”
“Ah! le comte, Monsieur d’Artagnan has disappeared.”
“Disappeared!” said Athos, in surprise.
“Oh! monsieur, we know what that means.”
“But I do not know.”
“Whenever M. d’Artagnan it is always for some mission or some great affair.”
“Has he said anything to you about it?”
“Never.”
“You were with his for England formerly, were you not?”
“On account of the speculation.” said Planchet, heedlessly.
“The speculation!”
“I mean—” Planchet, confused.
“Well, well; neither your those of your master are in question; the we take in him alone has me to apply to you. Since the captain of the is not here, and as we cannot learn from you where we are likely to M. d’Artagnan, we will take our of you. Au revoir, Planchet, au revoir. Let us be gone, Raoul.”
“Monsieur le comte, I wish I were able to tell you—”
“Oh, not at all; I am not the man to a with discretion.”
This word “servant” on the ears of the demi-millionnaire Planchet, but natural respect and over pride. “There is nothing in telling you, le comte, M. d’Artagnan came here the other day—”
“Aha?”
“And hours a chart.”
“You are right, then, my friend; say no more about it.”
“And the is there as a proof,” added Planchet, who to from the wall, where it was by a twist, a triangle with the of the window to which it was fastened, the plan by the captain on his last visit to Planchet. This plan, which he to the comte, was a map of France, upon which the of that an itinerary, marked out with small pins; a pin was missing, a its having been there. Athos, by with his the and holes, saw that D’Artagnan had taken the direction of the south, and gone as as the Mediterranean, Toulon. It was near Cannes that the marks and the places ceased. The Comte de la Fere puzzled his for some time, to what the be going to do at Cannes, and what have him to the banks of the Var. The of Athos nothing. His was at fault. Raoul’s were not more successful than his father’s.
“Never mind,” said the man to the comte, who silently, and with his finger, had him the of D’Artagnan; “we must that there is a Providence always in our with that of M. d’Artagnan. There he is on the of Cannes, and you, monsieur, will, at least, me as as Toulon. Be that we shall meet with him more easily upon our than on this map.”
Then, taking of Planchet, who was his shopmen, the of Truchen, his successor, the set out to pay a visit to M. de Beaufort. On the grocer’s shop, they saw a coach, the of the of Mademoiselle Truchen and Planchet’s of crowns.
“Every one by the he chooses,” said Raoul, in a tone.
“Road to Fontainebleau!” Planchet to his coachman.
