18

Twenty Years After

by Alexandre Dumas

18, TWENTY YEARS AFTER by Alexandre Dumas
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Grimaud begins his Functions.



Grimaud thereupon presented himself with his smooth exterior
at the donjon of Vincennes. Now Monsieur de Chavigny piqued
himself on his infallible penetration; for that which almost
proved that he was the son of Richelieu was his everlasting
pretension; he examined attentively the countenance of the
applicant for place and fancied that the contracted
eyebrows, thin lips, hooked nose, and prominent cheek-bones
of Grimaud were favorable signs. He addressed about twelve
words to him; Grimaud answered in four.

"Here's a promising fellow and it is I who have found out
his merits," said Monsieur de Chavigny. "Go," he added, "and
make yourself agreeable to Monsieur la Ramee, and tell him
that you suit me in all respects."

Grimaud had every quality that could attract a man on duty
who wishes to have a deputy. So, after a thousand questions
which met with only a word in reply, La Ramee, fascinated by
this sobriety in speech, rubbed his hands and engaged
Grimaud.

"My orders?" asked Grimaud.

"They are these; never to leave the prisoner alone; to keep
away from him every pointed or cutting instrument, and to
prevent his conversing any length of time with the keepers."

"Those are all?" asked Grimaud.

"All now," replied La Ramee.

"Good," answered Grimaud; and he went right to the prisoner.

The duke was in the act of combing his beard, which he had
allowed to grow, as well as his hair, in order to reproach
Mazarin with his wretched appearance and condition. But
having some days previously seen from the top of the donjon
Madame de Montbazon pass in her carriage, and still
cherishing an affection for that beautiful woman, he did not
wish to be to her what he wished to be to Mazarin, and in
the hope of seeing her again, had asked for a leaden comb,
which was allowed him. The comb was to be a leaden one,
because his beard, like that of most fair people, was rather
red; he therefore dyed it thus whilst combing it.

As Grimaud entered he saw this comb on the tea-table; he
took it up, and as he took it he made a low bow.

The duke looked at this strange figure with surprise. The
figure put the comb in its pocket.

"Ho! hey! what's that?" cried the duke. "Who is this
creature?"

Grimaud did not answer, but bowed a second time.

"Art thou dumb?" cried the duke.

Grimaud made a sign that he was not.

"What art thou, then? Answer! I command thee!" said the
duke.

"A keeper," replied Grimaud.

"A keeper!" reiterated the duke; "there was nothing wanting
in my collection, except this gallows-bird. Halloo! La
Ramee! some one!"

La Ramee ran in haste to obey the call.

"Who is this wretch who takes my comb and puts it in his
pocket?" asked the duke.

"One of your guards, my prince; a man of talent and merit,
whom you will like, as I and Monsieur de Chavigny do, I am
sure."

"Why does he take my comb?"

"Why do you take my lord's comb?" asked La Ramee.

Grimaud drew the comb from his pocket and passing his
fingers over the largest teeth, pronounced this one word,
"Pointed."

"True," said La Ramee.

"What does the animal say?" asked the duke.

"That the king has forbidden your lordship to have any
pointed instrument."

"Are you mad, La Ramee? You yourself gave me this comb."

"I was very wrong, my lord, for in giving it to you I acted
in opposition to my orders."

The duke looked furiously at Grimaud.

"I perceive that this creature will be my particular
aversion," he muttered.

Grimaud, nevertheless, was resolved for certain reasons not
at once to come to a full rupture with the prisoner; he
wanted to inspire, not a sudden repugnance, but a good,
sound, steady hatred; he retired, therefore, and gave place
to four guards, who, having breakfasted, could attend on the
prisoner.

A fresh practical joke now occurred to the duke. He had
asked for crawfish for his breakfast on the following
morning; he intended to pass the day in making a small
gallows and hang one of the finest of these fish in the
middle of his room -- the red color evidently conveying an
allusion to the cardinal -- so that he might have the
pleasure of hanging Mazarin in effigy without being accused
of having hung anything more significant than a crawfish.

The day was employed in preparations for the execution.
Every one grows childish in prison, but the character of
Monsieur de Beaufort was particularly disposed to become so.
In the course of his morning's walk he collected two or
three small branches from a tree and found a small piece of
broken glass, a discovery that quite delighted him. When he
came home he formed his handkerchief into a loop.

Nothing of all this escaped Grimaud, but La Ramee looked on
with the curiosity of a father who thinks that he may
perhaps get a cheap idea concerning a new toy for his
children. The guards looked on it with indifference. When
everything was ready, the gallows hung in the middle of the
room, the loop made, and when the duke had cast a glance
upon the plate of crawfish, in order to select the finest
specimen among them, he looked around for his piece of
glass; it had disappeared.

"Who has taken my piece of glass?" asked the duke, frowning.
Grimaud made a sign to denote that he had done so.

"What! thou again! Why didst thou take it?"

"Yes -- why?" asked La Ramee.

Grimaud, who held the piece of glass in his hand, said:
"Sharp."

"True, my lord!" exclaimed La Ramee. "Ah! deuce take it! we
have a precious fellow here!"

"Monsieur Grimaud!" said the duke, "for your sake I beg of
you, never come within the reach of my fist!"

"Hush! hush!" cried La Ramee, "give me your gibbet, my lord.
I will shape it out for you with my knife."

And he took the gibbet and shaped it out as neatly as
possible.

"That's it," said the duke, "now make me a little hole in
the floor whilst I go and fetch the culprit."

La Ramee knelt down and made a hole in the floor; meanwhile
the duke hung the crawfish up by a thread. Then he placed
the gibbet in the middle of the room, bursting with
laughter.

La Ramee laughed also and the guards laughed in chorus;
Grimaud, however, did not even smile. He approached La Ramee
and showing him the crawfish hung up by the thread:

"Cardinal," he said.

"Hung by order of his Highness the Duc de Beaufort!" cried
the prisoner, laughing violently, "and by Master Jacques
Chrysostom La Ramee, the king's commissioner."

La Ramee uttered a cry of horror and rushed toward the
gibbet, which he broke at once and threw the pieces out of
the window. He was going to throw the crawfish out also,
when Grimaud snatched it from his hands.

"Good to eat!" he said, and put it in his pocket.

This scene so enchanted the duke that at the moment he
forgave Grimaud for his part in it; but on reflection he
hated him more and more, being convinced he had some evil
motive for his conduct.

But the story of the crab made a great noise through the
interior of the donjon and even outside. Monsieur de
Chavigny, who at heart detested the cardinal, took pains to
tell the story to two or three friends, who put it into
immediate circulation.

The prisoner happened to remark among the guards one man
with a very good countenance; and he favored this man the
more as Grimaud became the more and more odious to him. One
morning he took this man on one side and had succeeded in
speaking to him, when Grimaud entered and seeing what was
going on approached the duke respectfully, but took the
guard by the arm.

"Go away," he said.

The guard obeyed.

"You are insupportable!" cried the duke; "I shall beat you."

Grimaud bowed.

"I will break every bone in your body!" cried the duke.

Grimaud bowed, but stepped back.

"Mr. Spy," cried the duke, more and more enraged, "I will
strangle you with my own hands."

And he extended his hands toward Grimaud, who merely thrust
the guard out and shut the door behind him. At the same time
he felt the duke's arms on his shoulders like two iron
claws; but instead either of calling out or defending
himself, he placed his forefinger on his lips and said in a
low tone:

"Hush!" smiling as he uttered the word.

A gesture, a smile and a word from Grimaud, all at once,
were so unusual that his highness stopped short, astounded.

Grimaud took advantage of that instant to draw from his vest
a charming little note with an aristocratic seal, and
presented it to the duke without a word.

The duke, more and more bewildered, let Grimaud loose and
took the note.

"From Madame de Montbazon?" he cried.

Grimaud nodded assent.

The duke tore open the note, passed his hands over his eyes,
for he was dazzled and confused, and read:



"My Dear Duke, -- You may entirely confide in the brave lad
who will give you this note; he has consented to enter the
service of your keeper and to shut himself up at Vincennes
with you, in order to prepare and assist your escape, which
we are contriving. The moment of your deliverance is at
hand; have patience and courage and remember that in spite
of time and absence all your friends continue to cherish for
you the sentiments they have so long professed and truly
entertained.

"Yours wholly and most affectionately

"Marie de Montbazon.



"P.S. -- I sign my full name, for I should be vain if I
could suppose that after five years of absence you would
remember my initials."



The poor duke became perfectly giddy. What for five years he
had been wanting -- a faithful servant, a friend, a helping
hand -- seemed to have fallen from Heaven just when he
expected it the least.

"Oh, dearest Marie! she thinks of me, then, after five years
of separation! Heavens! there is constancy!" Then turning to
Grimaud, he said:

"And thou, my brave fellow, thou consentest thus to aid me?"

Grimaud signified his assent.

"And you have come here with that purpose?"

Grimaud repeated the sign.

"And I was ready to strangle you!" cried the duke.

Grimaud smiled.

"Wait, then," said the duke, fumbling in his pocket. "Wait,"
he continued, renewing his fruitless search; "it shall not
be said that such devotion to a grandson of Henry IV. went
without recompense."

The duke's endeavors evinced the best intention in the
world, but one of the precautions taken at Vincennes was
that of allowing prisoners to keep no money. Whereupon
Grimaud, observing the duke's disappointment, drew from his
pocket a purse filled with gold and handed it to him.

"Here is what you are looking for," he said.

The duke opened the purse and wanted to empty it into
Grimaud's hands, but Grimaud shook his head.

"Thank you, monseigneur," he said, drawing back; "I am
paid."

The duke went from one surprise to another. He held out his
hand. Grimaud drew near and kissed it respectfully. The
grand manner of Athos had left its mark on Grimaud.

"What shall we do? and when? and how proceed?"

"It is now eleven," answered Grimaud. "Let my lord at two
o'clock ask leave to make up a game at tennis with La Ramee
and let him send two or three balls over the ramparts."

"And then?"

"Your highness will approach the walls and call out to a man
who works in the moat to send them back again."

"I understand," said the duke.

Grimaud made a sign that he was going away.

"Ah!" cried the duke, "will you not accept any money from
me?"

"I wish my lord would make me one promise."

"What! speak!"

"'Tis this: when we escape together, that I shall go
everywhere and be always first; for if my lord should be
overtaken and caught, there's every chance of his being
brought back to prison, whereas if I am caught the least
that can befall me is to be -- hung."

"True, on my honor as a gentleman it shall be as thou dost
suggest."

"Now," resumed Grimaud, "I've only one thing more to ask --
that your highness will continue to detest me."

"I'll try," said the duke.

At this moment La Ramee, after the interview we have
described with the cardinal, entered the room. The duke had
thrown himself, as he was wont to do in moments of dullness
and vexation, on his bed. La Ramee cast an inquiring look
around him and observing the same signs of antipathy between
the prisoner and his guardian he smiled in token of his
inward satisfaction. Then turning to Grimaud:

"Very good, my friend, very good. You have been spoken of in
a promising quarter and you will soon, I hope, have news
that will be agreeable to you."

Grimaud saluted in his politest manner and withdrew, as was
his custom on the entrance of his superior.

"Well, my lord," said La Ramee, with his rude laugh, "you
still set yourself against this poor fellow?"

"So! 'tis you, La Ramee; in faith, 'tis time you came back
again. I threw myself on the bed and turned my nose to the
wall, that I mightn't break my promise and strangle
Grimaud."

"I doubt, however," said La Ramee, in sprightly allusion to
the silence of his subordinate, "if he has said anything
disagreeable to your highness."

"Pardieu! you are right -- a mute from the East! I swear it
was time for you to come back, La Ramee, and I was eager to
see you again."

"Monseigneur is too good," said La Ramee, flattered by the
compliment.

"Yes," continued the duke, "really, I feel bored today
beyond the power of description."

"Then let us have a match in the tennis court," exclaimed La
Ramee.

"If you wish it."

"I am at your service, my lord."

"I protest, my dear La Ramee," said the duke, "that you are
a charming fellow and that I would stay forever at Vincennes
to have the pleasure of your society."

"My lord," replied La Ramee, "I think if it depended on the
cardinal your wishes would be fulfilled."

"What do you mean? Have you seen him lately?"

"He sent for me to-day."

"Really! to speak to you about me?"

"Of what else do you imagine he would speak to me? Really,
my lord, you are his nightmare."

The duke smiled with bitterness.

"Ah, La Ramee! if you would but accept my offers! I would
make your fortune."

"How? you would no sooner have left prison than your goods
would be confiscated."

"I shall no sooner be out of prison than I shall be master
of Paris."

"Pshaw! pshaw! I cannot hear such things said as that; this
is a fine conversation with an officer of the king! I see,
my lord, I shall be obliged to fetch a second Grimaud!"

"Very well, let us say no more about it. So you and the
cardinal have been talking about me? La Ramee, some day when
he sends for you, you must let me put on your clothes; I
will go in your stead; I will strangle him, and upon my
honor, if that is made a condition I will return to prison."

"Monseigneur, I see well that I must call Grimaud."

"Well, I am wrong. And what did the cuistre [pettifogger]
say about me?"

"I admit the word, monseigneur, because it rhymes with
ministre [minister]. What did he say to me? He told me to
watch you."

"And why so? why watch me?" asked the duke uneasily.

"Because an astrologer had predicted that you would escape."

"Ah! an astrologer predicted that?" said the duke, starting
in spite of himself.

"Oh, mon Dieu! yes! those imbeciles of magicians can only
imagine things to torment honest people."

"And what did you reply to his most illustrious eminence?"

"That if the astrologer in question made almanacs I would
advise him not to buy one."

"Why not?"

"Because before you could escape you would have to be turned
into a bird."

"Unfortunately, that is true. Let us go and have a game at
tennis, La Ramee."

"My lord -- I beg your highness's pardon -- but I must beg
for half an hour's leave of absence."

"Why?"

"Because Monseigneur Mazarin is a prouder man than his
highness, though not of such high birth: he forgot to ask me
to breakfast."

"Well, shall I send for some breakfast here?"

"No, my lord; I must tell you that the confectioner who
lived opposite the castle -- Daddy Marteau, as they called
him ---- "

"Well?"

"Well, he sold his business a week ago to a confectioner
from Paris, an invalid, ordered country air for his health."

"Well, what have I to do with that?"

"Why, good Lord! this man, your highness, when he saw me
stop before his shop, where he has a display of things which
would make your mouth water, my lord, asked me to get him
the custom of the prisoners in the donjon. `I bought,' said
he, `the business of my predecessor on the strength of his
assurance that he supplied the castle; whereas, on my honor,
Monsieur de Chavigny, though I've been here a week, has not
ordered so much as a tartlet.' `But,' I then replied,
`probably Monsieur de Chavigny is afraid your pastry is not
good.' `My pastry not good! Well, Monsieur La Ramee, you
shall judge of it yourself and at once.' `I cannot,' I
replied; `it is absolutely necessary for me to return to the
chateau.' `Very well,' said he, `go and attend to your
affairs, since you seem to be in a hurry, but come back in
half an hour.' `In half an hour?' `Yes, have you
breakfasted?' `Faith, no.' `Well, here is a pate that will
be ready for you, with a bottle of old Burgundy.' So, you
see, my lord, since I am hungry, I would, with your
highness's leave ---- " And La Ramee bent low.

"Go, then, animal," said the duke; "but remember, I only
allow you half an hour."

"May I promise your custom to the successor of Father
Marteau, my lord?"

"Yes, if he does not put mushrooms in his pies; thou knowest
that mushrooms from the wood of Vincennes are fatal to my
family."

La Ramee went out, but in five minutes one of the officers
of the guard entered in compliance with the strict orders of
the cardinal that the prisoner should never be left alone a
moment.

But during these five minutes the duke had had time to read
again the note from Madame de Montbazon, which proved to the
prisoner that his friends were concerting plans for his
deliverance, but in what way he knew not.

But his confidence in Grimaud, whose petty persecutions he
now perceived were only a blind, increased, and he conceived
the highest opinion of his intellect and resolved to trust
entirely to his guidance.