“What do you say to this, Du Vallon?”
“I,” said Porthos, “I am entirely of d’Artagnan’s opinion; this is a ‘beastly’ country, this England.”
“You are quite decided, then, to leave it?” asked Athos of d’Artagnan.
“Egad! I don’t see what is to keep me here.”
A glance was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
“Go, then, my friends,” said the former, sighing.
“How, go then?” exclaimed d’Artagnan. “Let us go, you mean?”
“No, my friend,” said Athos, “you must leave us.”
“Leave you!” cried d’Artagnan, quite bewildered at this unexpected announcement.
“Bah!” said Porthos, “why separate, since we are all together?”
“Because you can and ought to return to France; your mission is accomplished, but ours is not.”
“Your mission is not accomplished?” exclaimed d’Artagnan, looking in astonishment at Athos.
“No, my friend,” replied Athos, in his gentle but decided voice, “we came here to defend King Charles; we have but ill defended him—it remains for us to save him!”
“To save the king?” said d’Artagnan, looking at Aramis as he had looked at Athos.
Aramis contented himself by making a sign with his head.
D’Artagnan’s countenance took an expression of the deepest compassion; he began to think he had to do with madmen.
“You cannot be speaking seriously, Athos!” said he; “the king is surrounded by an army, which is conducting him to London. This army is commanded by a butcher, or the son of a butcher—it matters little—Colonel Harrison. His Majesty, I can assure you, will be tried on his arrival in London; I have heard enough from the lips of Oliver Cromwell to know what to expect.”
A second look was exchanged between Athos and Aramis.
“And when the trial is ended there will be no delay in putting the sentence into execution,” continued d’Artagnan.
“And to what penalty do you think the king will be condemned?” asked Athos.
“The penalty of death, I greatly fear; they have gone too far for him to pardon them, and there is nothing left to them but one thing, and that is to kill him. Have you never heard what Oliver Cromwell said when he came to Paris and was shown the dungeon at Vincennes where Monsieur de Vendôme was imprisoned?”
“What did he say?” asked Porthos.
“ ‘Princes must be knocked on the head.’ ”
“I remember it,” said Athos.
“And you fancy he will not put his maxim into execution, now that he has got hold of the king?”
“On the contrary, I am certain he will do so. But then that is all the more reason why we should not abandon the august head so threatened.”
“Athos, you are becoming mad.”
“No, my friend,” Athos gently replied, “but de Winter sought us out in France and introduced us, Monsieur d’Herblay and myself, to Madame Henrietta. Her Majesty did us the honor to ask our aid for her husband. We engaged our word; our word included everything. It was our strength, our intelligence, our life, in short, that we promised. It remains now for us to keep our word. Is that your opinion, d’Herblay?”
“Yes,” said Aramis, “we have promised.”
“Then,” continued Athos, “we have another reason; it is this—listen: In France at this moment everything is poor and paltry. We have a king ten years old, who doesn’t yet know what he wants; we have a queen blinded by a belated passion; we have a minister who governs France as he would govern a great farm—that is to say, intent only on turning out all the gold he can by the exercise of Italian cunning and invention; we have princes who set up a personal and egotistic opposition, who will draw from Mazarin’s hands only a few ingots of gold or some shreds of power granted as bribes. I have served them without enthusiasm—God knows that I estimated them at their real value, and that they are not high in my esteem—but on principle. Today I am engaged in a different affair. I have encountered misfortune in a high place, a royal misfortune, a European misfortune; I attach myself to it. If we can succeed in saving the king it will be good; if we die for him it will be grand.”
“So you know beforehand you must perish!” said d’Artagnan.
“We fear so, and our only regret is to die so far from both of you.”
“What will you do in a foreign land, an enemy’s country?”
“I traveled in England when I was young, I speak English like an Englishman, and Aramis, too, knows something of the language. Ah! if we had you, my friends! With you, d’Artagnan, with you, Porthos—all four reunited for the first time for twenty years—we would dare not only England, but the three kingdoms put together!”
“And did you promise the queen,” resumed d’Artagnan, petulantly, “to storm the Tower of London, to kill a hundred thousand soldiers, to fight victoriously against the wishes of the nation and the ambition of a man, and when that man is Cromwell? Do not exaggerate your duty. In Heaven’s name, my dear Athos, do not make a useless sacrifice. When I see you merely, you look like a reasonable being; when you speak, I seem to have to do with a madman. Come, Porthos, join me; say frankly, what do you think of this business?”
“Nothing good,” replied Porthos.
“Come,” continued d’Artagnan, who, irritated that instead of listening to him Athos seemed to be attending to his own thoughts, “you have never found yourself the worse for my advice. Well, then, believe me, Athos, your mission is ended, and ended nobly; return to France with us.”
“Friend,” said Athos, “our resolution is irrevocable.”
“Then you have some other motive unknown to us?”
Athos smiled and d’Artagnan struck his hands together in anger and muttered the most convincing reasons that he could discover; but to all these reasons Athos contented himself by replying with a calm, sweet smile and Aramis by nodding his head.
“Very well,” cried d’Artagnan, at last, furious, “very well, since you wish it, let us leave our bones in this beggarly land, where it is always cold, where fine weather is a fog, fog is rain, and rain a deluge; where the sun
