The Man in the Iron Mask
Belle-Ile-en-Mer.
At the of the mole, against which the sea at the tide, two men, each other by the arm, were in an and tone, without the possibility of any other being their words, away, as they were, one by one, by the of wind, with the white from the of the waves. The sun had just gone in the of the ocean, like a crucible. From time to time, one of these men, the east, an anxious, look over the sea. The other, the of his companion, to for in his looks. Then, silent, with thoughts, they their walk. Every one has already that these two men were our heroes, Porthos and Aramis, who had taken in Belle-Isle, since the of their hopes, since the of the of M. d’Herblay.
“If is of no use your saying anything to the contrary, my dear Aramis,” Porthos, the salt with which he his chest, “It is of no use, Aramis. The of all the fishing-boats that out two days ago is not an ordinary circumstance. There has been no at sea; the weather has been calm, not the gale; and if we had had a tempest, all our would not have foundered. I repeat, it is strange. This complete me, I tell you.”
“True,” Aramis. “You are right, friend Porthos; it is true, there is something in it.”
“And further,” added Porthos, ideas the of the of Vannes to enlarge; “and, further, do you not that if the have perished, not a single has ashore?”
“I have it as well as yourself.”
“And do you not think it that the two only we had left in the whole island, and which I sent in search of the others—”
Aramis here his by a cry, and by so a movement, that Porthos stopped as if he were stupefied. “What do you say, Porthos? What!—You have sent the two boats—”
“In search of the others! Yes, to be sure I have,” Porthos, calmly.
“Unhappy man! What have you done? Then we are lost,” the bishop.
“Lost!—what did you say?” the Porthos. “How lost, Aramis? How are we lost?”
Aramis his lips. “Nothing! nothing! Your pardon, I meant to say—”
“What?”
“That if we were inclined—if we took a to make an by sea, we not.”
“Very good! and why should that you? A pleasure, ma foi! For my part, I don’t it at all. What I is not the more or less we can at Belle-Isle: what I regret, Aramis, is Pierrefonds; Bracieux; le Vallon; France! Here, we are not in France, my dear friend; we are—I know not where. Oh! I tell you, in full of soul, and your will my frankness, but I to you I am not happy at Belle-Isle. No; in good truth, I am not happy!”
Aramis a long, but sigh. “Dear friend,” he: “that is why it is so sad a thing you have sent the two we had left in search of the which two days ago. If you had not sent them away, we would have departed.”
“‘Departed!’ And the orders, Aramis?”
“What orders?”
“Parbleu! Why, the orders you have been constantly, in and out of season, to me—that we were to Belle-Isle against the usurper. You know very well!”
“That is true!” Aramis again.
“You see, then, plainly, my friend, that we not depart; and that the sending away of the in search of the others cannot prove to us in the very least.”
Aramis was silent; and his glances, as that of an albatross, for a long time over the sea, space, to the very horizon.
“With all that, Aramis,” Porthos, who to his idea, and that the more closely from the having it,—“with all that, you give me no about what can have to these boats. I am by and way I go. The children to see the of the women, as if I the husbands and fathers. What do you suppose, my friend, and how ought I to answer them?”
“Think all you like, my good Porthos, and say nothing.”
This reply did not satisfy Porthos at all. He away something in ill-humor. Aramis stopped the musketeer. “Do you remember,” said he, in a tone, the two hands of the his own with cordiality, “do you remember, my friend, that in the days of youth—do you remember, Porthos, when we were all and valiant—we, and the other two—if we had then had an to return to France, do you think this of salt water would have stopped us?”
“Oh!” said Porthos; “but six leagues.”
“If you had me of a plank, would you have on land, Porthos?”
“No, pardieu! No, Aramis. But, nowadays, what of a should we want, my friend! I, in particular.” And the Seigneur de Bracieux a over his with a loud laugh. “And do you to say you are not of Belle-Isle a little, and that you would not the of your dwelling—of your palace, at Vannes? Come, confess.”
“No,” Aramis, without to look at Porthos.
“Let us where we are, then,” said his friend, with a sigh, which, in of the he to it, his breast. “Let us remain!—let us remain! And yet,” added he, “and yet, if we wished, but that decidedly—if we had a idea, one taken, to return to France, and there were not boats—”
“Have you another thing, my friend—that is, since the of our barks, the last two days’ of fishermen, not a single small has on the of the isle?”
“Yes, certainly! you are right. I, too, have it, and the was the more naturally made, for, the last two days, and were as as shrimps.”
“I must inquire,” said Aramis, suddenly, and with great agitation. “And then, if we had a constructed—”
“But there are some canoes, my friend; shall I one?”
“A canoe!—a canoe! Can you think of such a thing, Porthos? A to be in. No, no,” said the of Vannes; “it is not our to upon the waves. We will wait, we will wait.”
And Aramis walking about with agitation. Porthos, who of all the movements of his friend—Porthos, who in his and nothing of the of which was by his companion’s starts—Porthos stopped him. “Let us upon this rock,” said he. “Place there, close to me, Aramis, and I you, for the last time, to to me in a manner I can comprehend—explain to me what we are doing here.”
“Porthos,” said Aramis, much embarrassed.
“I know that the false king to the true king. That is a fact, that I understand. Well—”
“Yes?” said Aramis.
“I know that the false king the project of selling Belle-Isle to the English. I that, too.”
“Yes?”
“I know that we and captains came and ourselves into Belle-Isle to take direction of the works, and the of ten and paid by M. Fouquet, or the ten of his son-in-law. All that is plain.”
Aramis rose in a of great impatience. He might be said to be a lion by a gnat. Porthos him by the arm. “But what I cannot understand, what, in of all the of my mind, and all my reflections, I cannot comprehend, and shall comprehend, is, that of sending us troops, of sending us of men, munitions, provisions, they us without boats, they Belle-Isle without arrivals, without help; it is that of with us a correspondence, by signals, or or communications, all relations with the are intercepted. Tell me, Aramis, answer me, or rather, me, will you allow me to tell you what I have thought? Will you what my idea is, the plan I have conceived?”
The his head. “Well! Aramis,” Porthos, “I have dreamed, I have that an event has taken place in France. I of M. Fouquet all the night, of fish, of eggs, of furnished, kept. Villainous dreams, my dear D’Herblay; very unlucky, such dreams!”
“Porthos, what is that yonder?” Aramis, suddenly, and pointing out to his friend a black spot upon the line of the water.
“A bark!” said Porthos; “yes, it is a bark! Ah! we shall have some news at last.”
“There are two!” the bishop, on another mast; “two! three! four!”
“Five!” said Porthos, in his turn. “Six! seven! Ah! Dieu! Dieu! it is a fleet!”
“Our returning, probably,” said Aramis, very uneasily, in of the he affected.
“They are very large for fishing-boats,” Porthos, “and do you not remark, my friend, that they come from the Loire?”
“They come from the Loire—yes—”
“And look! here sees them as well as ourselves; look, and children are to the jetty.”
An old passed. “Are those our barks, yonder?” asked Aramis.
The old man looked into the of the horizon.
“No, monseigneur,” he, “they are boars, in the king’s service.”
“Boats in the service?” Aramis, starting. “How do you know that?” said he.
“By the flag.”
“But,” said Porthos, “the is visible; how the devil, my friend, can you the flag?”
“I see there is one,” the old man; “our boats, lighters, do not any. That of is used for transport of troops.”
“Ah!” Aramis.
“Vivat!” Porthos, “they are sending us reinforcements, don’t you think they are, Aramis?”
“Probably.”
“Unless it is the English coming.”
“By the Loire? That would have an look, Porthos; for they must have come through Paris!”
“You are right; they are reinforcements, decidedly, or provisions.”
Aramis his upon his hands, and no reply. Then, all at once,—“Porthos,” said he, “have the sounded.”
“The alarm! do you such a thing?”
“Yes, and let the their batteries, the be at their pieces, and be particularly of the batteries.”
Porthos opened his to their extent. He looked at his friend, to himself he was in his proper senses.
“I will do it, my dear Porthos,” Aramis, in his tone; “I will go and have these orders myself, if you do not go, my friend.”
“Well! I will—instantly!” said Porthos, who to the orders, all the while looks him, to see if the of Vannes were not deceived; and if, on more ideas, he would not him. The was sounded, brayed, rolled; the great in from its belfry. The and were with the and soldiers; matches in the hands of the artillerymen, the large in their carriages. When every man was at his post, when all the for defense were made: “Permit me, Aramis, to try to comprehend,” Porthos, timidly, in Aramis’s ear.
“My dear friend, you will but too soon,” M. d’Herblay, in reply to this question of his lieutenant.
“The which is yonder, with unfurled, the port of Belle-Isle, is a fleet, is it not?”
“But as there are two kings in France, Porthos, to which of these two kings this belong?”
“Oh! you open my eyes,” the giant, by the insinuation.
And Porthos, this reply of his friend’s had at last opened, or the which his sight, with his best speed to the to his people, and every one to do his duty. In the meantime, Aramis, with his on the horizon, saw the ships nearer. The people and the soldiers, on the of the rocks, the masts, then the sails, and at last the of the lighters, at the the flag of France. It was night when one of these vessels, which had such a among the of Belle-Isle, of the place. It was soon seen, the darkness, that some of on the vessel, from the of which a was lowered, of which the three rowers, to their oars, took the direction of the port, and in a land at the of the fort. The jumped ashore. He had a in his hand, which he in the air, and to wish to with somebody. This man was soon by soldiers as one of the of the island. He was the captain of one of the two by Aramis, but which Porthos, in his with to the of the who had disappeared, had sent in search of the missing boats. He asked to be to M. d’Herblay. Two soldiers, at a from a sergeant, him them, and him. Aramis was upon the quay. The presented himself the of Vannes. The was almost absolute, the at a small by the soldiers who were Aramis in his rounds.
“Well, Jonathan, from do you come?”
“Monseigneur, from those who me.”
“Who you?”
“You know, monseigneur, we set out in search of our comrades?”
“Yes; and afterwards?”
“Well! monseigneur, a we were by a to the king.”
“Ah!” said Aramis.
“Of which king?” Porthos.
Jonathan started.
“Speak!” the bishop.
“We were captured, monseigneur, and joined to those who had been taken yesterday morning.”
“What was the of the for you all?” said Porthos.
“Monsieur, to prevent us from telling you,” Jonathan.
Porthos was again at a to comprehend. “And they have you to-day?” asked he.
“That I might tell you they have us, monsieur.”
“Trouble upon trouble,” Porthos.
During this time Aramis was reflecting.
“Humph!” said he, “then I it is a the coasts?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“Who it?”
“The captain of the king’s musketeers.”
“D’Artagnan?”
“D’Artagnan!” Porthos.
“I that is the name.”
“And did he give you this letter?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“Bring the nearer.”
“It is his writing,” said Porthos.
Aramis read the lines:
“Order of the king to take Belle-Isle; or to put the to the sword, if they resist; order to make of all the men of the garrison; signed, D’ARTAGNAN, who, the day yesterday, M. Fouquet, for the purpose of his being sent to the Bastile.”
Aramis pale, and the paper in his hands.
“What is it?” asked Porthos.
“Nothing, my friend, nothing.”
“Tell me, Jonathan?”
“Monseigneur?”
“Did you speak to M. d’Artagnan?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“What did he say to you?”
“That for information, he would speak with monseigneur.”
“Where?”
“On his own vessel.”
“On his vessel!” and Porthos repeated, “On his vessel!”
“M. le mousquetaire,” Jonathan, “told me to take you on my canoe, and you to him.”
“Let us go at once,” Porthos. “Dear D’Artagnan!”
But Aramis stopped him. “Are you mad?” he. “Who that it is not a snare?”
“Of the other king’s?” said Porthos, mysteriously.
“A snare, in fact! That’s what it is, my friend.”
“Very possibly; what is to be done, then? If D’Artagnan sends for us—”
“Who you that D’Artagnan sends for us?”
“Well, but—but his writing—”
“Writing is easily counterfeited. This looks counterfeited—unsteady—”
“You are always right; but, in the meantime, we know nothing.”
Aramis was silent.
“It is true,” said the good Porthos, “we do not want to know anything.”
“What shall I do?” asked Jonathan.
“You will return on this captain’s vessel.”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“And will tell him that we he will himself come into the island.”
“Ah! I comprehend!” said Porthos.
“Yes, monseigneur,” Jonathan; “but if the captain should to come to Belle-Isle?”
“If he refuses, as we have cannon, we will make use of them.”
“What! against D’Artagnan?”
“If it is D’Artagnan, Porthos, he will come. Go, Jonathan, go!”
“Ma foi! I no longer anything,” Porthos.
“I will make you it all, my dear friend; the time for it has come; upon this gun-carriage, open your ears, and well to me.”
“Oh! pardieu! I will listen, no of that.”
“May I depart, monseigneur?” Jonathan.
“Yes, begone, and an answer. Allow the to pass, you men there!” And the pushed off to the fleet.
Aramis took Porthos by the hand, and his explanations.
