The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [322]
Taking his leave of Athos, the young Gascon called upon Porthos. He found this worthy clothed in a magnificent costume, covered with splendent embroidery. Porthos was busy gazing at his reflection in the mirror.
“Ah, so it’s you, is it?” Porthos exclaimed. “Tell me, my friend, do these garments fit me?”
“They fit you to perfection,” D’Artagnan assured him. “But I have come to offer you a costume that will suit you even better.”
“What costume?”
“The uniform of a Lieutenant of Musketeers,” D’Artagnan said proudly. Then, having given Porthos a summary of his interview with the Cardinal, he drew the commission from his pocket and:
“Here, my friend,” he urged. “Write your name on this and please be a good chief to me!”
Porthos glanced over the parchment and to D’Artagnan’s immense surprise handed it back to him.
“Thank you,” Porthos said. “This is very flattering, of course. But I would not have time enough to enjoy this distinction. During our expedition to Béthune, the husband of my duchess passed away. The coffers of the dear departed beckon me with open arms—or rather doors! I shall marry the widow. As you see, I was trying on my wedding clothes when you came in. So keep the lieutenancy, my friend, keep it for yourself.”
D’Artagnan then hastened to offer the commission to Aramis. He found him kneeling before a prie-Dieu, his head bowed over an open prayer book. For the third time, D’Artagnan gave an account of his interview with the Cardinal and, drawing his commission from his pocket for the third time, said:
“Aramis, you are our friend, our guiding light, our invisible protector; pray accept this commission. By your wisdom and by your advice which has invariably led to the happiest results, you have proved yourself the best qualified to do so.”
“I am sorry, my friend,” Aramis said, “I must decline. Our recent adventures have disgusted me with both secular and military life. This time my mind is irrevocably set. The siege ended, I shall join the Lazarists. Keep the commission, D’Artagnan; the profession of arms suits you admirably, you will make a brave and resourceful captain.”
D’Artagnan went back to visit Athos again. His eyes were moist with gratitude but he was beaming with joy. He found Athos still at table, contemplating his last glass of Malaga admiringly by the light of his lamp.
“Well,” D’Artagnan announced, “the others refused too.”
“That is because no one deserves it more than you,” said Athos. Then, taking up a quill, he wrote boldly into the blank in the commission:
D’ARTAGNAN
and returned it to him.
“I have lost my friends,” D’Artagnan said ruefully, burying his head in his hands. “I have nothing left but the bitterest of recollections. . . .”
Two large tears rolled down his cheeks.
“You are young,” Athos answered. “Your bitter recollections have the time requisite to change into the happiest of memories.”
LXVIII
EPILOGUE
After a year’s siege, La Rochelle, deprived of the assistance of the British fleet and of the diversion promised by Buckingham, surrendered. The capitulation was signed on October 28, 1628.
The King returned to Paris on December twenty-third of the same year, receiving as triumphant a welcome as if he came from conquering an enemy rather than his fellow-Frenchmen. He entered the city by the Faubourg Saint-Jacques under arches of greenery.
D’Artagnan assumed his lieutenancy. (Eventually Planchet obtained a sergeancy in the Piedmont Regiment.)
Porthos, having left the service, married Madame Coquenard in the course of the following year. The coffers so avidly coveted yielded eight hundred thousand livres. (Mousqueton, clad in a magnificent livery, enjoyed the satisfaction of his supreme ambition: to ride behind a gilded carriage.)
Aramis, after a journey into Lorraine, suddenly vanished without a word to his friends. Later they learned through Madame de Chevreuse, who told it to a few intimates, that he had retired to a monastery—no one knew where. (Bazin became