6

Twenty Years After

by Alexandre Dumas

6, TWENTY YEARS AFTER by Alexandre Dumas
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D'Artagnan in his Fortieth Year.



Years have elapsed, many events have happened, alas! since,
in our romance of "The Three Musketeers," we took leave of
D'Artagnan at No. 12 Rue des Fossoyeurs. D'Artagnan had not
failed in his career, but circumstances had been adverse to
him. So long as he was surrounded by his friends he retained
his youth and the poetry of his character. He was one of
those fine, ingenuous natures which assimilate themselves
easily to the dispositions of others. Athos imparted to him
his greatness of soul, Porthos his enthusiasm, Aramis his
elegance. Had D'Artagnan continued his intimacy with these
three men he would have become a superior character. Athos
was the first to leave him, in order that he might retire to
a little property he had inherited near Blois; Porthos, the
second, to marry an attorney's wife; and lastly, Aramis, the
third, to take orders and become an abbe. From that day
D'Artagnan felt lonely and powerless, without courage to
pursue a career in which he could only distinguish himself
on condition that each of his three companions should endow
him with one of the gifts each had received from Heaven.

Notwithstanding his commission in the musketeers, D'Artagnan
felt completely solitary. For a time the delightful
remembrance of Madame Bonancieux left on his character a
certain poetic tinge, perishable indeed; for like all other
recollections in this world, these impressions were, by
degrees, effaced. A garrison life is fatal even to the most
aristocratic organization; and imperceptibly, D'Artagnan,
always in the camp, always on horseback, always in garrison,
became (I know not how in the present age one would express
it) a typical trooper. His early refinement of character was
not only not lost, it grew even greater than ever; but it
was now applied to the little, instead of to the great
things of life -- to the martial condition of the soldier --
comprised under the head of a good lodging, a rich table, a
congenial hostess. These important advantages D'Artagnan
found to his own taste in the Rue Tiquetonne at the sign of
the Roe.

From the time D'Artagnan took quarters in that hotel, the
mistress of the house, a pretty and fresh looking Flemish
woman, twenty-five or twenty-six years old, had been
singularly interested in him; and after certain love
passages, much obstructed by an inconvenient husband to whom
a dozen times D'Artagnan had made a pretence of passing a
sword through his body, that husband had disappeared one
fine morning, after furtively selling certain choice lots of
wine, carrying away with him money and jewels. He was
thought to be dead; his wife, especially, who cherished the
pleasing idea that she was a widow, stoutly maintained that
death had taken him. Therefore, after the connection had
continued three years, carefully fostered by D'Artagnan, who
found his bed and his mistress more agreeable every year,
each doing credit to the other, the mistress conceived the
extraordinary desire of becoming a wife and proposed to
D'Artagnan that he should marry her.

"Ah, fie!" D'Artagnan replied. "Bigamy, my dear! Come now,
you don't really wish it?"

"But he is dead; I am sure of it."

"He was a very contrary fellow and might come back on
purpose to have us hanged."

"All right; if he comes back you will kill him, you are so
skillful and so brave."

"Peste! my darling! another way of getting hanged."

"So you refuse my request?"

"To be sure I do -- furiously!"

The pretty landlady was desolate. She would have taken
D'Artagnan not only as her husband, but as her God, he was
so handsome and had so fierce a mustache.

Then along toward the fourth year came the expedition of
Franche-Comte. D'Artagnan was assigned to it and made his
preparations to depart. There were then great griefs, tears
without end and solemn promises to remain faithful -- all of
course on the part of the hostess. D'Artagnan was too grand
to promise anything; he purposed only to do all that he
could to increase the glory of his name.

As to that, we know D'Artagnan's courage; he exposed himself
freely to danger and while charging at the head of his
company he received a ball through the chest which laid him
prostrate on the field of battle. He had been seen falling
from his horse and had not been seen to rise; every one,
therefore, believed him to be dead, especially those to whom
his death would give promotion. One believes readily what he
wishes to believe. Now in the army, from the
division-generals who desire the death of the
general-in-chief, to the soldiers who desire the death of
the corporals, all desire some one's death.

But D'Artagnan was not a man to let himself be killed like
that. After he had remained through the heat of the day
unconscious on the battle-field, the cool freshness of the
night brought him to himself. He gained a village, knocked
at the door of the finest house and was received as the
wounded are always and everywhere received in France. He was
petted, tended, cured; and one fine morning, in better
health than ever before, he set out for France. Once in
France he turned his course toward Paris, and reaching Paris
went straight to Rue Tiquetonne.

But D'Artagnan found in his chamber the personal equipment
of a man, complete, except for the sword, arranged along the
wall.

"He has returned," said he. "So much the worse, and so much
the better!"

It need not be said that D'Artagnan was still thinking of
the husband. He made inquiries and discovered that the
servants were new and that the mistress had gone for a walk.

"Alone?" asked D'Artagnan.

"With monsieur."

"Monsieur has returned, then?"

"Of course," naively replied the servant.

"If I had any money," said D'Artagnan to himself, "I would
go away; but I have none. I must stay and follow the advice
of my hostess, while thwarting the conjugal designs of this
inopportune apparition."

He had just completed this monologue -- which proves that in
momentous circumstances nothing is more natural than the
monologue -- when the servant-maid, watching at the door,
suddenly cried out:

"Ah! see! here is madame returning with monsieur."

D'Artagnan looked out and at the corner of Rue Montmartre
saw the hostess coming along hanging to the arm of an
enormous Swiss, who tiptoed in his walk with a magnificent
air which pleasantly reminded him of his old friend Porthos.

"Is that monsieur?" said D'Artagnan to himself. "Oh! oh! he
has grown a good deal, it seems to me." And he sat down in
the hall, choosing a conspicuous place.

The hostess, as she entered, saw D'Artagnan and uttered a
little cry, whereupon D'Artagnan, judging that he had been
recognized, rose, ran to her and embraced her tenderly. The
Swiss, with an air of stupefaction, looked at the hostess,
who turned pale.

"Ah, it is you, monsieur! What do you want of me?" she
asked, in great distress.

"Is monsieur your cousin? Is monsieur your brother?" said
D'Artagnan, not in the slightest degree embarrassed in the
role he was playing. And without waiting for her reply he
threw himself into the arms of the Helvetian, who received
him with great coldness.

"Who is that man?" he asked.

The hostess replied only by gasps.

"Who is that Swiss?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Monsieur is going to marry me," replied the hostess,
between two gasps.

"Your husband, then, is at last dead?"

"How does that concern you?" replied the Swiss.

"It concerns me much," said D'Artagnan, "since you cannot
marry madame without my consent and since ---- "

"And since?" asked the Swiss.

"And since -- I do not give it," said the musketeer.

The Swiss became as purple as a peony. He wore his elegant
uniform, D'Artagnan was wrapped in a sort of gray cloak; the
Swiss was six feet high, D'Artagnan was hardly more than
five; the Swiss considered himself on his own ground and
regarded D'Artagnan as an intruder.

"Will you go away from here?" demanded the Swiss, stamping
violently, like a man who begins to be seriously angry.

"I? By no means!" said D'Artagnan.

"Some one must go for help," said a lad, who could not
comprehend that this little man should make a stand against
that other man, who was so large.

D'Artagnan, with a sudden accession of wrath, seized the lad
by the ear and led him apart, with the injunction:

"Stay you where you are and don't you stir, or I will pull
this ear off. As for you, illustrious descendant of William
Tell, you will straightway get together your clothes which
are in my room and which annoy me, and go out quickly to
another lodging."

The Swiss began to laugh boisterously. "I go out?" he said.
"And why?"

"Ah, very well!" said D'Artagnan; "I see that you understand
French. Come then, and take a turn with me and I will
explain."

The hostess, who knew D'Artagnan's skill with the sword,
began to weep and tear her hair. D'Artagnan turned toward
her, saying, "Then send him away, madame."

"Pooh!" said the Swiss, who had needed a little time to take
in D'Artagnan's proposal, "pooh! who are you, in the first
place, to ask me to take a turn with you?"

"I am lieutenant in his majesty's musketeers," said
D'Artagnan, "and consequently your superior in everything;
only, as the question now is not of rank, but of quarters --
you know the custom -- come and seek for yours; the first to
return will recover his chamber."

D'Artagnan led away the Swiss in spite of lamentations on
the part of the hostess, who in reality found her heart
inclining toward her former lover, though she would not have
been sorry to give a lesson to that haughty musketeer who
had affronted her by the refusal of her hand.

It was night when the two adversaries reached the field of
battle. D'Artagnan politely begged the Swiss to yield to him
the disputed chamber; the Swiss refused by shaking his head,
and drew his sword.

"Then you will lie here," said D'Artagnan. "It is a wretched
bed, but that is not my fault, and it is you who have chosen
it." With these words he drew in his turn and crossed swords
with his adversary.

He had to contend against a strong wrist, but his agility
was superior to all force. The Swiss received two wounds and
was not aware of it, by reason of the cold; but suddenly
feebleness, occasioned by loss of blood, obliged him to sit
down.

"There!" said: D'Artagnan, "what did I tell you?
Fortunately, you won't be laid up more than a fortnight.
Remain here and I will send you your clothes by the boy.
Good-by! Oh, by the way, you'd better take lodging in the
Rue Montorgueil at the Chat Qui Pelote. You will be well fed
there, if the hostess remains the same. Adieu."

Thereupon he returned in a lively mood to his room and sent
to the Swiss the things that belonged to him. The boy found
him sitting where D'Artagnan had left him, still overwhelmed
by the coolness of his adversary.

The boy, the hostess, and all the house had the same regard
for D'Artagnan that one would have for Hercules should he
return to earth to repeat his twelve labors.

But when he was alone with the hostess he said: "Now, pretty
Madeleine, you know the difference between a Swiss and a
gentleman. As for you, you have acted like a barmaid. So
much the worse for you, for by such conduct you have lost my
esteem and my patronage. I have driven away the Swiss to
humiliate you, but I shall lodge here no longer. I will not
sleep where I must scorn. Ho, there, boy! Have my valise
carried to the Muid d'Amour, Rue des Bourdonnais. Adieu,
madame."

In saying these words D'Artagnan appeared at the same time
majestic and grieved. The hostess threw herself at his feet,
asked his pardon and held him back with a sweet violence.
What more need be said? The spit turned, the stove roared,
the pretty Madeleine wept; D'Artagnan felt himself invaded
by hunger, cold and love. He pardoned, and having pardoned
he remained.

And this explains how D'Artagnan had quarters in the Rue
Tiquetonne, at the Hotel de la Chevrette.

D'Artagnan then returned home in thoughtful mood, finding a
somewhat lively pleasure in carrying Mazarin's bag of money
and thinking of that fine diamond which he had once called
his own and which he had seen on the minister's finger that
night.

"Should that diamond ever fall into my hands again," he
reflected, "I would turn it at once into money; I would buy
with the proceeds certain lands around my father's chateau,
which is a pretty place, well enough, but with no land to it
at all, except a garden about the size of the Cemetery des
Innocents; and I should wait in all my glory till some rich
heiress, attracted by my good looks, rode along to marry me.
Then I should like to have three sons; I should make the
first a nobleman, like Athos; the second a good soldier,
like Porthos; the third an excellent abbe, like Aramis.
Faith! that would be a far better life than I lead now; but
Monsieur Mazarin is a mean wretch, who won't dispossess
himself of his diamond in my favor."

On entering the Rue Tiquetonne he heard a tremendous noise
and found a dense crowd near the house.

"Oho!" said he, "is the hotel on fire?" On approaching the
hotel of the Roe he found, however, that it was in front of
the next house the mob was collected. The people were
shouting and running about with torches. By the light of one
of these torches D'Artagnan perceived men in uniform.

He asked what was going on.

He was told that twenty citizens, headed by one man, had
attacked a carriage which was escorted by a troop of the
cardinal's bodyguard; but a reinforcement having come up,
the assailants had been put to flight and the leader had
taken refuge in the hotel next to his lodgings; the house
was now being searched.

In his youth D'Artagnan had often headed the bourgeoisie
against the military, but he was cured of all those
hot-headed propensities; besides, he had the cardinal's
hundred pistoles in his pocket, so he went into the hotel
without a word. There he found Madeleine alarmed for his
safety and anxious to tell him all the events of the
evening, but he cut her short by ordering her to put his
supper in his room and give him with it a bottle of good
Burgundy.

He took his key and candle and went upstairs to his bedroom.
He had been contented, for the convenience of the house, to
lodge in the fourth story; and truth obliges us even to
confess that his chamber was just above the gutter and below
the roof. His first care on entering it was to lock up in an
old bureau with a new lock his bag of money, and then as
soon as supper was ready he sent away the waiter who brought
it up and sat down to table.

Not to reflect on what had passed, as one might fancy. No,
D'Artagnan considered that things are never well done when
they are not reserved to their proper time. He was hungry;
he supped, he went to bed. Neither was he one of those who
think that the necessary silence of the night brings counsel
with it. In the night he slept, but in the morning,
refreshed and calm, he was inspired with his clearest views
of everything. It was long since he had any reason for his
morning's inspiration, but he always slept all night long.
At daybreak he awoke and took a turn around his room.

"In '43," he said, "just before the death of the late
cardinal, I received a letter from Athos. Where was I then?
Let me see. Oh! at the siege of Besancon I was in the
trenches. He told me -- let me think -- what was it? That he
was living on a small estate -- but where? I was just
reading the name of the place when the wind blew my letter
away, I suppose to the Spaniards; there's no use in thinking
any more about Athos. Let me see: with regard to Porthos, I
received a letter from him, too. He invited me to a hunting
party on his property in the month of September, 1646.
Unluckily, as I was then in Bearn, on account of my father's
death, the letter followed me there. I had left Bearn when
it arrived and I never received it until the month of April,
1647; and as the invitation was for September, 1646, I
couldn't accept it. Let me look for this letter; it must be
with my title deeds."

D'Artagnan opened an old casket which stood in a corner of
the room, and which was full of parchments referring to an
estate during a period of two hundred years lost to his
family. He uttered an exclamation of delight, for the large
handwriting of Porthos was discernible, and underneath some
lines traced by his worthy spouse.

D'Artagnan eagerly searched for the heading of this letter;
it was dated from the Chateau du Vallon.

Porthos had forgotten that any other address was necessary;
in his pride he fancied that every one must know the Chateau
du Vallon.

"Devil take the vain fellow," said D'Artagnan. "However, I
had better find him out first, since he can't want money.
Athos must have become an idiot by this time from drinking.
Aramis must have worn himself to a shadow of his former self
by constant genuflexion."

He cast his eyes again on the letter. There was a
postscript:

"I write by the same courier to our worthy friend Aramis in
his convent."

"In his convent! What convent? There are about two hundred
in Paris and three thousand in France; and then, perhaps, on
entering the convent he changed his name. Ah! if I were but
learned in theology I should recollect what it was he used
to dispute about with the curate of Montdidier and the
superior of the Jesuits, when we were at Crevecoeur; I
should know what doctrine he leans to and I should glean
from that what saint he has adopted as his patron.

"Well, suppose I go back to the cardinal and ask him for a
passport into all the convents one can find, even into the
nunneries? It would be a curious idea, and maybe I should
find my friend under the name of Achilles. But, no! I should
lose myself in the cardinal's opinion. Great people only
thank you for doing the impossible; what's possible, they
say, they can effect themselves, and they are right. But let
us wait a little and reflect. I received a letter from him,
the dear fellow, in which he even asked me for some small
service, which, in fact, I rendered him. Yes, yes; but now
what did I do with that letter?"

D'Artagnan thought a moment and then went to the wardrobe in
which hung his old clothes. He looked for his doublet of the
year 1648 and as he had orderly habits, he found it hanging
on its nail. He felt in the pocket and drew from it a paper;
it was the letter of Aramis:



"Monsieur D'Artagnan: You know that I have had a quarrel
with a certain gentleman, who has given me an appointment
for this evening in the Place Royale. As I am of the church,
and the affair might injure me if I should share it with any
other than a sure friend like you, I write to beg that you
will serve me as second.

"You will enter by the Rue Neuve Sainte Catherine; under the
second lamp on the right you will find your adversary. I
shall be with mine under the third.

"Wholly yours,

"Aramis."



D'Artagnan tried to recall his remembrances. He had gone to
the rendezvous, had encountered there the adversary
indicated, whose name he had never known, had given him a
pretty sword-stroke on the arm, then had gone toward Aramis,
who at the same time came to meet him, having already
finished his affair. "It is over," Aramis had said. "I think
I have killed the insolent fellow. But, dear friend, if you
ever need me you know that I am entirely devoted to you."
Thereupon Aramis had given him a clasp of the hand and had
disappeared under the arcades.

So, then, he no more knew where Aramis was than where Athos
and Porthos were, and the affair was becoming a matter of
great perplexity, when he fancied he heard a pane of glass
break in his room window. He thought directly of his bag and
rushed from the inner room where he was sleeping. He was not
mistaken; as he entered his bedroom a man was getting in by
the window.

"Ah! you scoundrel!" cried D'Artagnan, taking the man for a
thief and seizing his sword.

"Sir!" cried the man, "in the name of Heaven put your sword
back into the sheath and don't kill me unheard. I'm no
thief, but an honest citizen, well off in the world, with a
house of my own. My name is -- ah! but surely you are
Monsieur d'Artagnan?"

"And thou -- Planchet!" cried the lieutenant.

"At your service, sir," said Planchet, overwhelmed with joy;
"if I were still capable of serving you."

"Perhaps so," replied D'Artagnan. "But why the devil dost
thou run about the tops of houses at seven o'clock of the
morning in the month of January?"

"Sir," said Planchet, "you must know; but, perhaps you ought
not to know ---- "

"Tell us what," returned D'Artagnan, "but first put a napkin
against the window and draw the curtains."

"Sir," said the prudent Planchet, "in the first place, are
you on good terms with Monsieur de Rochefort?"

"Perfectly; one of my dearest friends."

"Ah! so much the better!"

"But what has De Rochefort to do with this manner you have
of invading my room?"

"Ah, sir! I must first tell you that Monsieur de Rochefort
is ---- "

Planchet hesitated.

"Egad, I know where he is," said D'Artagnan. "He's in the
Bastile."

"That is to say, he was there," replied Planchet. "But in
returning thither last night, when fortunately you did not
accompany him, as his carriage was crossing the Rue de la
Ferronnerie his guards insulted the people, who began to
abuse them. The prisoner thought this a good opportunity for
escape; he called out his name and cried for help. I was
there. I heard the name of Rochefort. I remembered him well.
I said in a loud voice that he was a prisoner, a friend of
the Duc de Beaufort, who called for help. The people were
infuriated; they stopped the horses and cut the escort to
pieces, whilst I opened the doors of the carriage and
Monsieur de Rochefort jumped out and soon was lost amongst
the crowd. At this moment a patrol passed by. I was obliged
to sound a retreat toward the Rue Tiquetonne; I was pursued
and took refuge in the house next to this, where I have been
concealed between two mattresses. This morning I ventured to
run along the gutters and ---- "

"Well," interrupted D'Artagnan, "I am delighted that De
Rochefort is free, but as for thee, if thou shouldst fall
into the hands of the king's servants they will hang thee
without mercy. Nevertheless, I promise thee thou shalt be
hidden here, though I risk by concealing thee neither more
nor less than my lieutenancy, if it was found out that I
gave one rebel an asylum."

"Ah! sir, you know well I would risk my life for you."

"Thou mayst add that thou hast risked it, Planchet. I have
not forgotten all I owe thee. Sit down there and eat in
security. I see thee cast expressive glances at the remains
of my supper."

"Yes, sir; for all I've had since yesterday was a slice of
bread and butter, with preserves on it. Although I don't
despise sweet things in proper time and place, I found the
supper rather light."

"Poor fellow!" said D'Artagnan. "Well, come; set to."

"Ah, sir, you are going to save my life a second time!"
cried Planchet.

And he seated himself at the table and ate as he did in the
merry days of the Rue des Fossoyeurs, whilst D'Artagnan
walked to and fro and thought how he could make use of
Planchet under present circumstances. While he turned this
over in his mind Planchet did his best to make up for lost
time at table. At last he uttered a sigh of satisfaction and
paused, as if he had partially appeased his hunger.

"Come," said D'Artagnan, who thought that it was now a
convenient time to begin his interrogations, "dost thou know
where Athos is?"

"No, sir," replied Planchet.

"The devil thou dost not! Dost know where Porthos is?"

"No -- not at all."

"And Aramis?"

"Not in the least."

"The devil! the devil! the devil!"

"But, sir," said Planchet, with a look of shrewdness, "I
know where Bazin is."

"Where is he?"

"At Notre Dame."

"What has he to do at Notre Dame?"

"He is beadle."

"Bazin beadle at Notre Dame! He must know where his master
is!"

"Without a doubt he must."

D'Artagnan thought for a moment, then took his sword and put
on his cloak to go out.

"Sir," said Planchet, in a mournful tone, "do you abandon me
thus to my fate? Think, if I am found out here, the people
of the house, who have not seen me enter it, will take me
for a thief."

"True," said D'Artagnan. "Let's see. Canst thou speak any
patois?"

"I can do something better than that, sir, I can speak
Flemish."

"Where the devil didst thou learn it?"

"In Artois, where I fought for years. Listen, sir. Goeden
morgen, mynheer, eth teen begeeray le weeten the ge sond
heets omstand."

"Which means?"

"Good-day, sir! I am anxious to know the state of your
health."

"He calls that a language! But never mind, that will do
capitally."

D'Artagnan opened the door and called out to a waiter to
desire Madeleine to come upstairs.

When the landlady made her appearance she expressed much
astonishment at seeing Planchet.

"My dear landlady," said D'Artagnan, "I beg to introduce to
you your brother, who is arrived from Flanders and whom I am
going to take into my service."

"My brother?"

"Wish your sister good-morning, Master Peter."

"Wilkom, suster," said Planchet.

"Goeden day, broder," replied the astonished landlady.

"This is the case," said D'Artagnan; "this is your brother,
Madeleine; you don't know him perhaps, but I know him; he
has arrived from Amsterdam. You must dress him up during my
absence. When I return, which will be in about an hour, you
must offer him to me as a servant, and upon your
recommendation, though he doesn't speak a word of French, I
take him into my service. You understand?"

"That is to say, I guess your wishes, and that is all that's
necessary," said Madeleine.

"You are a precious creature, my pretty hostess, and I am
much obliged to you."

The next moment D'Artagnan was on his way to Notre Dame.