“Still further,” added he, “these same Dutch are building for the king, at this moment, six vessels after the model of the best of their name. Destouches—Ah! perhaps you don’t know Destouches?”
“No, Monsieur.”
“He is a man who has a sure glance to discern, when a ship is launched, what are the defects and qualities of that ship—that is valuable, observe! Nature is truly whimsical. Well, this Destouches appeared to me to be a man likely to prove useful in marine affairs, and he is superintending the construction of six vessels of seventy-eight guns, which the Provinces are building for His Majesty. It results from this, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan, that the king, if he wished to quarrel with the Provinces, would have a very pretty fleet. Now, you know better than anybody else if the land army is efficient.”
D’Artagnan and Aramis looked at each other, wondering at the mysterious labors this man had undertaken in so short a time. Colbert understood them, and was touched by this best of flatteries.
“If we, in France, were ignorant of what was going on,” said d’Artagnan, “out of France still less must be known.”
“That is why I told Monsieur l’Ambassadeur,” said Colbert, “that, Spain promising its neutrality, England helping us—”
“If England assists you,” said Aramis, “I promise the neutrality of Spain.”
“I take you at your word,” Colbert hastened to reply with his blunt bonhomie. “And, apropos of Spain, you have not the ‘Golden Fleece,’ Monsieur d’Alméda. I heard the king say the other day that he should like to see you wear the grand cordon of St. Michael.”
Aramis bowed. Oh!
thought d’Artagnan, and Porthos is no longer here! What ells of ribbons would there be for him in these largesses! Dear Porthos!
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” resumed Colbert, “between us two, you will have, I wager, an inclination to lead your musketeers into Holland. Can you swim?” And he laughed like a man in high good humor.
“Like an eel,” replied d’Artagnan.
“Ah! but there are some bitter passages of canals and marshes yonder, Monsieur d’Artagnan, and the best swimmers are sometimes drowned there.”
“It is my profession to die for His Majesty,” said the musketeer. “Only, as it is seldom in war that much water is met with without a little fire, I declare to you beforehand, that I will do my best to choose fire. I am getting old; water freezes me—but fire warms, Monsieur Colbert.”
And d’Artagnan looked so handsome still in quasi-juvenile strength as he pronounced these words, that Colbert, in his turn, could not help admiring him. D’Artagnan perceived the effect he had produced. He remembered that the best tradesman is he who fixes a high price upon his goods, when they are valuable. He prepared his price in advance.
“So, then,” said Colbert, “we go into Holland?”
“Yes,” replied d’Artagnan; “only—”
“Only?” said M. Colbert.
“Only,” repeated d’Artagnan, “there lurks in everything the question of interest, the question of self-love. It is a very fine title, that of captain of the Musketeers; but observe this: we have now the king’s Guards and the military household of the king. A captain of Musketeers ought to command all that, and then he would absorb a hundred thousand livres a year for expenses.”
“Well! but do you suppose the king would haggle with you?” said Colbert.
“Eh! Monsieur, you have not understood me,” replied d’Artagnan, sure of carrying his point. “I was telling you that I, an old captain, formerly chief of the king’s guard, having precedence of the maréchaux of France—I saw myself one day in the trenches with two other equals, the captain of the Guards and the colonel commanding the Swiss. Now, at no price will I suffer that. I have old habits, and I will stand or fall by them.”
Colbert felt this blow, but he was prepared for it.
“I have been thinking of what you said just now,” replied he.
“About what, Monsieur?”
“We were speaking of canals and marshes in which people are drowned.”
“Well!”
“Well! if they are drowned, it is for want of a boat, a plank, or a stick.”
“Of a stick, however short it may be,” said d’Artagnan.
“Exactly,” said Colbert. “And, therefore, I never heard of an instance of a maréchal of France being drowned.”
D’Artagnan became very pale with joy, and in a not very firm voice, “People would be very proud of me in my country,” said he, “if I were a maréchal of France; but a man must have commanded an expedition in chief to obtain the baton.”
“Monsieur!” said Colbert, “here is in this pocketbook which you will study, a plan of campaign you will have to lead a body of troops to carry out in the next spring.”30
D’Artagnan took the book, tremblingly, and his fingers meeting those of Colbert, the minister pressed the hand of the musketeer loyally.
“Monsieur,” said he, “we had both a revenge to take, one over the other. I have begun; it is now your turn!”
“I will do you justice, Monsieur,” replied d’Artagnan, “and implore you to tell the king that the first opportunity that shall offer, he may depend upon a victory, or to behold me dead—or both.”
“Then I will have the fleurs-de-lis for your maréchal’s baton prepared immediately,” said Colbert.
On the morrow, Aramis, who was setting out for Madrid, to negotiate the neutrality of Spain, came to embrace d’Artagnan at his hotel.
“Let us love each other for four,” said d’Artagnan. “We are now but two.”
“And you will, perhaps, never see me again, dear d’Artagnan,” said Aramis; “if you knew how I have loved you! I am old, I am extinct—ah, I am almost dead.”
“My friend,” said d’Artagnan, “you will live longer than I shall: diplomacy commands you to live; but, for my part, honor condemns me to die.”
“Bah! such men as we are, Monsieur le Maréchal,” said Aramis, “only die satisfied with joy in glory.”
“Ah!” replied d’Artagnan, with a melancholy smile, “I assure you, Monsieur le Duc, I
