During this time, Charles took the hand of Athos. “Comte,” said he, “you have been to me a second father; the services you have rendered to me are above all price. I have, nevertheless, thought of a recompense. You were created by my father a Knight of the Garter—that is an order which all the kings of Europe cannot bear; by the queen regent, Knight of the Holy Ghost—which is an order not less illustrious; I join to it that of the Golden Fleece sent me by the king of France, to whom the king of Spain, his father-in-law, gave two on the occasion of his marriage; but in return, I have a service to ask of you.”
“Sire,” said Athos, with confusion, “the Golden Fleece for me! when the king of France is the only person in my country who enjoys that distinction?”
“I wish you to be in your country and all others the equal of all those whom sovereigns have honored with their favor,” said Charles, drawing the chain from his neck; “and I am sure, count, my father smiles on me from his grave.”
It is unaccountably strange
, said d’Artagnan to himself, whilst his friend, on his knees, received the eminent order which the king conferred on him—it is almost incredible that I have always seen showers of prosperity fall upon all who surrounded me, and that not a drop ever reached me! If I were a jealous man, it would be enough to make one tear one’s hair, parole d’honneur!
Athos rose from his knees, and Charles embraced him tenderly. “General!” said he to Monck—then stopping, with a smile, “pardon me, duke, I mean. No wonder if I make a mistake; the word duke is too short for me, I always seek some title to lengthen it. I should wish to see you so near my throne, that I might say to you, as to Louis XIV, my brother! Oh! I have it; and you will almost be my brother, for I make you viceroy of Ireland and Scotland, my dear duke. So, after that fashion, henceforward I shall not make a mistake.”
The duke seized the hand of the king, but without enthusiasm, without joy, as he did everything. His heart, however, had been moved by this last favor. Charles, by skillfully husbanding his generosity, had given the duke time to wish, although he might not have wished for so much as was given him.
“Mordioux!” grumbled d’Artagnan, “there is the shower beginning again! Oh! it is enough to turn one’s brain!” and he turned away with an air so sorrowful and so comically piteous, that the king, who caught it, could not restrain a smile. Monck was preparing to leave the room, to take leave of Charles.
“What! my trusty and well-beloved!” said the king to the duke, “are you going?”
“With Your Majesty’s permission, for in truth I am weary. The emotions of the day have worn me out; I stand in need of rest.”
“But,” said the king, “you are not going without M. d’Artagnan, I hope.”
“Why not, sire?” said the old warrior.
“Well! you know very well why,” said the king.
Monck looked at Charles with astonishment.
“Oh! it may be possible; but if you forget, you, M. d’Artagnan, do not.”
Astonishment was painted on the face of the musketeer.
“Well, then, duke,” said the king, “do you not lodge with M. d’Artagnan?”
“I had the honor of offering M. d’Artagnan a lodging; yes, sire.”
“That idea is your own, and yours solely?”
“Mine and mine only; yes, sire.”
“Well! but it could not be otherwise—the prisoner always lodges with his conqueror.”
Monck colored in his turn. “Ah! that is true,” said he; “I am M. d’Artagnan’s prisoner.”
“Without doubt, duke, since you are not yet ransomed; but have no care of that; it was I who took you out of M. d’Artagnan’s hands, and it is I who will pay your ransom.”
The eyes of d’Artagnan regained their gayety and their brilliancy. The Gascon began to understand. Charles advanced towards him.
“The general,” said he, “is not rich, and cannot pay you what he is worth. I am richer, certainly; but now that he is a duke, and if not a king, almost a king, he is worth a sum I could not perhaps pay. Come, M. d’Artagnan, be moderate with me; how much do I owe you?”
D’Artagnan, delighted at the turn things were taking, but not for a moment losing his self-possession, replied—“Sire, Your Majesty has no occasion to be alarmed. When I had the good fortune to take his grace, M. Monck was only a general; it is therefore only a general’s ransom that is due to me. But if the general will have the kindness to deliver me his sword, I shall consider myself paid; for there is nothing in the world but the general’s sword which is worth as much as himself.”
“Odds fish! as my father said,” cried Charles. “That is a gallant proposal, and a gallant man, is he not, duke?”
“Upon my honor, yes, sire,” and he drew his sword. “Monsieur,” said he to d’Artagnan, “here is what you demand. Many have handled a better blade; but however modest mine may be, I have never surrendered it to anyone.”
D’Artagnan received with pride the sword which had just made a king.
“Oh! oh!” cried Charles II; “what a sword that has restored me to my throne—to go out of the kingdom—and not, one day, to figure among the crown jewels! No, on my soul! that shall not be! Captain d’Artagnan, I will give you two hundred thousand livres for your sword! If that is too little, say so.”
“It is too little, sire,” replied d’Artagnan, with inimitable seriousness. “In the first place, I do not at all wish to sell it; but Your Majesty desires me to do so, and that is an order. I obey, then, but the respect I owe to the illustrious warrior who hears me, commands me to estimate a third more the reward of my victory. I ask then three hundred thousand livres
