“Ah! it is you, your honor,” he said, advancing toward d’Artagnan; “and I am truly pleased to meet you.”
D’Artagnan looked attentively at Friquet and recognized the little chorister of the Rue de la Calandre.
“Ah! ’tis thou, rascal!” said he, “come here: so thou hast changed thy trade; thou art no longer a choir boy nor a tavern boy; thou hast become a horse stealer?”
“Ah, your honor, how can you say so?” exclaimed Friquet. “I was seeking the gentleman to whom this horse belongs—an officer, brave and handsome as a youthful Caesar”; then, pretending to see Raoul for the first time:
“Ah! but if I mistake not,” continued he, “here he is; you won’t forget the boy, sir.”
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you about?” asked d’Artagnan.
“To give ten francs to this honest fellow,” replied Raoul, taking a pistole from his pocket.
“Ten kicks on his back!” said d’Artagnan; “be off, you little villain, and forget not that I have your address.”
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply, bounded off like a gazelle up the Quai à la Rue Dauphine, and disappeared. Raoul mounted his horse, and both leisurely took their way to the Rue Tiquetonne.
D’Artagnan watched over the youth as if he had been his own son.
They arrived without accident at the Hôtel de la Chevrette.
The handsome Madeleine announced to d’Artagnan that Planchet had returned, bringing Mousqueton with him, who had heroically borne the extraction of the ball and was as well as his state would permit.
D’Artagnan desired Planchet to be summoned, but he had disappeared.
“Then bring some wine,” said d’Artagnan. “You are much pleased with yourself,” said he to Raoul when they were alone, “are you not?”
“Well, yes,” replied Raoul. “It seems to me I did my duty. I defended the king.”
“And who told you to defend the king?”
“The Comte de la Fère himself.”
“Yes, the king; but today you have not fought for the king, you have fought for Mazarin; which is not quite the same thing.”
“But you yourself?”
“Oh, for me; that is another matter. I obey my captain’s orders. As for you, your captain is the prince, understand that rightly; you have no other. But has one ever seen such a wild fellow,” continued he, “making himself a Mazarinist and helping to arrest Broussel! Breathe not a word of that, or the Comte de la Fère will be furious.”
“You think the count will be angry with me?”
“Think it? I’m certain of it; were it not for that, I should thank you, for you have worked for us. However, I scold you instead of him, and in his place; the storm will blow over more easily, believe me. And moreover, my dear child,” continued d’Artagnan, “I am making use of the privilege conceded to me by your guardian.”
“I do not understand you, sir,” said Raoul.
D’Artagnan rose, and taking a letter from his writing-desk, presented it to Raoul. The face of the latter became serious when he had cast his eyes upon the paper.
“Oh, mon Dieu!” he said, raising his fine eyes to d’Artagnan, moist with tears, “the count has left Paris without seeing me?”
“He left four days ago,” said d’Artagnan.
“But this letter seems to intimate that he is about to incur danger, perhaps death.”
“He—he—incur danger of death! No, be not anxious; he is traveling on business and will return ere long. I hope you have no repugnance to accept me as your guardian in the interim.”
“Oh, no, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Raoul, “you are such a brave gentleman and the Comte de la Fère has so much affection for you!”
“Eh! Egad! love me too; I will not torment you much, but only on condition that you become a Frondist, my young friend, and a hearty Frondist, too.”
“But can I continue to visit Madame de Chevreuse?”
“I should say you could! and the coadjutor and Madame de Longueville; and if the worthy Broussel were there, whom you so stupidly helped arrest, I should tell you to excuse yourself to him at once and kiss him on both cheeks.”
“Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand you.”
“It is unnecessary for you to understand. Hold,” continued d’Artagnan, turning toward the door, which had just opened, “here is Monsieur du Vallon, who comes with his coat torn.”
“Yes, but in exchange,” said Porthos, covered with perspiration and soiled by dust, “in exchange, I have torn many skins. Those wretches wanted to take away my sword! Deuce take ’em, what a popular commotion!” continued the giant, in his quiet manner; “but I knocked down more than twenty with the hilt of Balizarde. A draught of wine, d’Artagnan.”
“Oh, I’ll answer for you,” said the Gascon, filling Porthos’s glass to the brim; “but when you have drunk, give me your opinion.”
“Upon what?” asked Porthos.
“Look here,” resumed d’Artagnan; “here is Monsieur de Bragelonne, who determined at all risks to aid the arrest of Broussel and whom I had great difficulty to prevent defending Monsieur de Comminges.”
“The devil!” said Porthos; “and his guardian, what would he have said to that?”
“Do you hear?” interrupted d’Artagnan; “become a Frondist, my friend, belong to the Fronde, and remember that I fill the count’s place in everything”; and he jingled his money.
“Will you come?” said he to Porthos.
“Where?” asked Porthos, filling a second glass of wine.
“To present our respects to the cardinal.”
Porthos swallowed the second glass with the same grace with which he had imbibed the first, took his beaver and followed d’Artagnan. As for Raoul, he remained bewildered with what he had seen, having been forbidden by d’Artagnan to leave the room until the tumult was over.
XLV
The Beggar of St. Eustache
D’Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the Palais Royal he would give Comminges time to arrive before him, and consequently to make the cardinal acquainted with the eminent services which he, d’Artagnan, and his friend had rendered to the queen’s party in the morning.
They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid them
