The prince turned round at the moment when Raoul, in order to leave him alone with Athos, was shutting the door, and preparing to go with the other officers into an adjoining apartment.
“Is that the young man I have heard M. le Prince speak so highly of?” asked M. de Beaufort.
“It is, monseigneur.”
“He is quite the soldier; let him stay, count, we cannot spare him.”
“Remain, Raoul, since monseigneur permits it,” said Athos.
“Ma foi! he is tall and handsome!” continued the duke. “Will you give him to me, monseigneur, if I ask him of you?”
“How am I to understand you, monseigneur?” said Athos.
“Why, I call upon you to bid you farewell.”
“Farewell!”
“Yes, in good truth. Have you no idea of what I am about to become?”
“Why, I suppose, what you have always been, monseigneur — a valiant2 prince, and an excellent gentleman.”
“I am going to become an African prince — a Bedouin gentleman. The king is sending me to make conquests among the Arabs.”
“What is this you tell me, monseigneur?”
“Strange, is it not? I, the Parisian par1 essence, I who have reigned3 in the faubourgs, and have been called King of the Halles — I am going to pass from the Place Maubert to the minarets4 of Gigelli; from a Frondeur I am becoming an adventurer!”
“Oh, monseigneur, if you did not yourself tell me that —”
“It would not be credible5, would it? Believe me, nevertheless, and we have but to bid each other farewell. This is what comes of getting into favor again.”
“Into favor?”
“Yes. You smile. Ah, my dear count, do you know why I have accepted this enterprise, can you guess?”
“Because your highness loves glory above — everything.”
“Oh! no; there is no glory in firing muskets6 at savages7. I see no glory in that, for my part, and it is more probable that I shall there meet with something else. But I have wished, and still wish earnestly, my dear count, that my life should have that last facet8, after all the whimsical exhibitions I have seen myself make during fifty years. For, in short, you must admit that it is sufficiently9 strange to be born the grandson of a king, to have made war against kings, to have been reckoned among the powers of the age, to have maintained my rank, to feel Henry IV. within me, to be great admiral of France — and then to go and get killed at Gigelli, among all those Turks, Saracens, and Moors10.”
“Monseigneur, you harp11 with strange persistence12 on that theme,” said Athos, in an agitated13 voice. “How can you suppose that so brilliant a destiny will be extinguished in that remote and miserable14 scene?”
“And can you believe, upright and simple as you are, that if I go into Africa for this ridiculous motive15, I will not endeavor to come out of it without ridicule16? Shall I not give the world cause to speak of me? And to be spoken of, nowadays, when there are Monsieur le Prince, M. de Turenne, and many others, my contemporaries, I, admiral of France, grandson of Henry IV., king of Paris, have I anything left but to get myself killed? Cordieu! I will be talked of, I tell you; I shall be killed whether or not; if no there, somewhere else.”
“Why, monseigneur, this is mere17 exaggeration; and hitherto you have shown nothing exaggerated save in bravery.”
“Peste! my dear friend, there is bravery in facing scurvy18, dysentery, locusts19, poisoned arrows, as my ancestor St. Louis did. Do you know those fellows still use poisoned arrows? And then, you know me of old, I fancy, and you know that when I once make up my mind to a thing, I perform it in grim earnest.”
“Yes, you made up your mind to escape from Vincennes.”
“Ay, but you aided me in that, my master; and, a propos, I turn this way and that, without seeing my old friend, M. Vaugrimaud. How is he?”
“M. Vaugrimaud is still your highness’s most respectful servant,” said Athos, smiling.
“I have a hundred pistoles here for him, which I bring as a legacy20. My will is made, count.”
“Ah! monseigneur! monseigneur!”
“And you may understand that if Grimaud’s name were to appear in my will —” The duke began to laugh; then addressing Raoul, who, from the commencement of this conversation, had sunk into a profound reverie, “Young man,” said he, “I know there is to be found here a certain De Vouvray wine, and I believe —” Raoul left the room precipitately21 to order the wine. In the meantime M. de Beaufort took the hand of Athos.
“What do you mean to do with him?” asked he.
“Nothing at present, monseigneur.”
“Ah! yes, I know; since the passion of the king for La Valliere.”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“That is all true, then, is it? I think I know her, that little La Valliere. She is not particularly handsome, if I remember right?”
“No, monseigneur,” said Athos.
“Do you know whom she reminds me of?”
“Does she remind your highness of any one?”
“She reminds me of a very agreeable girl, whose mother lived in the Halles.”
“Ah! ah!” said Athos, smiling.
“Oh! the good old times,” added M. de Beaufort. “Yes, La Valliere reminds me of that girl.”
“Who had a son, had she not?” 3
“I believe she had,” replied the duke, with careless naivete and a complaisant22 forgetfulness, of which no words could translate the tone and the vocal23 expression. “Now, here is poor Raoul, who is your son, I believe.”
“Yes, he is my son, monseigneur.”
“And the poor lad has been cut out by the king, and he frets24.”
“Still better, monseigneur, he abstains25.”
“You are going to let the boy rust26 in idleness; it is a mistake. Come, give him to me.”
“My wish is to keep him at home, monseigneur. I have no longer anything in the world but him, and as long as he likes to remain —”
“Well, well,” replied the duke. “I could, nevertheless, have soon put matters to rights again. I assure you, I think he has in him the stuff of which marechals of France are made; I have seen more than one produced from less likely rough material.”
“That is very possible, monseigneur; but it is the king who makes marechals of France, and Raoul will never accept anything of the king.”
Raoul interrupted this conversation by his return. He preceded Grimaud, whose still steady hands carried the plateau with one glass and a bottle of the duke’s favorite wine. On seeing his old protege, the duke uttered an exclamation27 of pleasure.
“Grimaud! Good evening, Grimaud!” said he; “how goes it?”
The servant bowed profoundly, as much gratified as his noble interlocutor.
“Two old friends!” said the duke, shaking honest Grimaud’s shoulder after a vigorous fashion; which was followed by another still more profound and delighted bow from Grimaud.
“But what is this, count, only one glass?”
“I should not think of drinking with your highness, unless your highness permitted me,” replied Athos, with noble humility28.
“Cordieu! you were right to bring only one glass, we will both drink out of it, like two brothers in arms. Begin, count.”
“Do me the honor,” said Athos, gently putting back the glass.
“You are a charming friend,” replied the Duc de Beaufort, who drank, and passed the goblet29 to his companion. “But that is not all,” continued he, “I am still thirsty, and I wish to do honor to this handsome young man who stands here. I carry good luck with me, vicomte,” said he to Raoul; “wish for something while drinking out of my glass, and may the black plague grab me if what you wish does not come to pass!” He held the goblet to Raoul, who hastily moistened his lips, and replied with the same promptitude:
“I have wished for something, monseigneur.” His eyes sparkled with a gloomy fire, and the blood mounted to his cheeks; he terrified Athos, if only with his smile.
“And what have you wished for?” replied the duke, sinking back into his fauteuil, whilst with one hand he returned the bottle to Grimaud, and with the other gave him a purse.
“Will you promise me, monseigneur, to grant me what I wish for?”
“Pardieu! That is agreed upon.”
“I wished, monsieur le duc, to go with you to Gigelli.”
Athos became pale, and was unable to conceal30 his agitation31. The duke looked at his friend, as if desirous to assist him to parry this unexpected blow.
“That is difficult, my dear vicomte, very difficult,” added he, in a lower tone of voice.
“Pardon me, monseigneur, I have been indiscreet,” replied Raoul, in a firm voice; “but as you yourself invited me to wish —”
“To wish to leave me?” said Athos.
“Oh! monsieur — can you imagine —”
“Well, mordieu!” cried the duke, “the young vicomte is right! What can he do here? He will go moldy32 with grief.”
Raoul blushed, and the excitable prince continued: “War is a distraction33: we gain everything by it; we can only lose one thing by it — life — then so much the worse!”
“That is to say, memory,” said Raoul, eagerly; “and that is to say, so much the better!”
He repented34 of having spoken so warmly when he saw Athos rise and open the window; which was, doubtless, to conceal his emotion. Raoul sprang towards the comte, but the latter had already overcome his emotion, and turned to the lights with a serene35 and impassible countenance36. “Well, come,” said the duke, “let us see! Shall he go, or shall he not? If he goes, comte, he shall be my aide-decamp, my son.”
“Monseigneur!” cried Raoul, bending his knee.
“Monseigneur!” cried Athos, taking the hand of the duke; “Raoul shall do just as he likes.”
“Oh! no, monsieur, just as you like,” interrupted the young man.
“Par la corbleu!” said the prince in his turn, “it is neither the comte nor the vicomte that shall have his way, it is I. I will take him away. The marine37 offers a superb fortune, my friend.”
Raoul smiled again so sadly, that this time Athos felt his heart penetrated38 by it, and replied to him by a severe look. Raoul comprehended it all; he recovered his calmness, and was so guarded, that not another word escaped him. The duke at length rose, on observing the advanced hour, and said, with animation39, “I am in great haste, but if I am told I have lost time in talking with a friend, I will reply I have gained — on the balance — a most excellent recruit.”
“Pardon me, monsieur le duc,” interrupted Raoul, “do not tell the king so, for it is not the king I wish to serve.”
“Eh! my friend, whom, then, will you serve? The times are past when you might have said, ‘I belong to M. de Beaufort.’ No, nowadays, we all belong to the king, great or small. Therefore, if you serve on board my vessels40, there can be nothing equivocal about it, my dear vicomte; it will be the king you will serve.”
Athos waited with a kind of impatient joy for the reply about to be made to this embarrassing question by Raoul, the intractable enemy of the king, his rival. The father hoped that the obstacle would overcome the desire. He was thankful to M. de Beaufort, whose lightness or generous reflection had thrown an impediment in the way of the departure of a son, now his only joy. But Raoul, still firm and tranquil41, replied: “Monsieur le duc, the objection you make I have already considered in my mind. I will serve on board your vessels, because you do me the honor to take me with you; but I shall there serve a more powerful master than the king: I shall serve God!”
“God! how so?” said the duke and Athos together.
“My intention is to make profession, and become a knight42 of Malta,” added Bragelonne, letting fall, one by one, words more icy than the drops which fall from the bare trees after the tempests of winter. 4
Under this blow Athos staggered and the prince himself was moved. Grimaud uttered a heavy groan43, and let fall the bottle, which was broken without anybody paying attention. M. de Beaufort looked the young man in the face, and read plainly, though his eyes were cast down, the fire of resolution before which everything must give way. As to Athos, he was too well acquainted with that tender, but inflexible44 soul; he could not hope to make it deviate45 from the fatal road it had just chosen. He could only press the hand the duke held out to him. “Comte, I shall set off in two days for Toulon,” said M. de Beaufort. “Will you meet me at Paris, in order that I may know your determination?”
“I will have the honor of thanking you there, mon prince, for all your kindness,” replied the comte.
“And be sure to bring the vicomte with you, whether he follows me or does not follow me,” added the duke; “he has my word, and I only ask yours.”
Having thrown a little balm upon the wound of the paternal46 heart, he pulled the ear of Grimaud, whose eyes sparkled more than usual, and regained47 his escort in the parterre. The horses, rested and refreshed, set off with spirit through the lovely night, and soon placed a considerable distance between their master and the chateau48.
Athos and Bragelonne were again face to face. Eleven o’clock was striking. The father and son preserved a profound silence towards each other, where an intelligent observer would have expected cries and tears. But these two men were of such a nature that all emotion following their final resolutions plunged49 itself so deep into their hearts that it was lost forever. They passed, then, silently and almost breathlessly, the hour that preceded midnight. The clock, by striking, alone pointed50 out to them how many minutes had lasted the painful journey made by their souls in the immensity of their remembrances of the past and fear of the future. Athos rose first, saying, “it is late, then. . . . Till tomorrow.”
Raoul rose, and in his turn embraced his father. The latter held him clasped to his breast, and said, in a tremulous voice, “In two days, you will have left me, my son — left me forever, Raoul!”
“Monsieur,” replied the young man, “I had formed a determination, that of piercing my heart with my sword; but you would have thought that cowardly. I have renounced51 that determination, and therefore we must part.”
“You leave me desolate52 by going, Raoul.”
“Listen to me again, monsieur, I implore53 you. If I do not go, I shall die here of grief and love. I know how long a time I have to live thus. Send me away quickly, monsieur, or you will see me basely die before your eyes — in your house — this is stronger than my will — stronger than my strength — you may plainly see that within one month I have lived thirty years, and that I approach the end of my life.”
“Then,” said Athos, coldly, “you go with the intention of getting killed in Africa? Oh, tell me! do not lie!”
Raoul grew deadly pale, and remained silent for two seconds, which were to his father two hours of agony. Then, all at once: “Monsieur,” said he, “I have promised to devote myself to God. In exchange for the sacrifice I make of my youth and liberty, I will only ask of Him one thing, and that is, to preserve me for you, because you are the only tie which attaches me to this world. God alone can give me the strength not to forget that I owe you everything, and that nothing ought to stand in my esteem54 before you.”
Athos embraced his son tenderly, and said:
“You have just replied to me on the word of honor of an honest man; in two days we shall be with M. de Beaufort at Paris, and you will then do what will be proper for you to do. You are free, Raoul; adieu.”
And he slowly gained his bedroom. Raoul went down into the garden, and passed the night in the alley55 of limes.
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1
par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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3
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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4
minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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5
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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7
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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8
facet
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| n.(问题等的)一个方面；(多面体的)面 | |
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9
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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10
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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13
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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14
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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15
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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16
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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17
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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19
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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20
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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complaisant
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| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
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23
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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24
frets
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| 基质间片； 品丝（吉他等指板上定音的）( fret的名词复数 ) | |
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abstains
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| 戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的第三人称单数 )； 弃权（不投票） | |
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26
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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28
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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29
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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30
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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31
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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32
moldy
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| adj.发霉的 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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37
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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38
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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39
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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40
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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41
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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42
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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43
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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44
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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45
deviate
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| v.(from)背离，偏离 | |
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46
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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47
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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48
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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49
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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50
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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51
renounced
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| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
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52
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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53
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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54
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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55
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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