"That it is very unlike Monsieur de Guiche"s disposition."
"You do not doubt my word, I suppose?"
"Hum! hum!"
"You do doubt it, then?"
"A little. But I shall doubt it more than ever, I warn you, if I find the poor fellow is really dead."
"Monsieur Manicamp!"
"Monsieur de Wardes!"
"It seems you intend to insult me."
"Just as you please. The fact is, I never did like people who come and say, "I have killed such and such a gentleman in a corner; it is a great pity, but I killed him in a perfectly honorable manner." It has an ugly appearance, M. de Wardes."
"Silence! we have arrived."
In fact, the glade could now be seen, and in the open s.p.a.ce lay the motionless body of the dead horse. To the right of the horse, upon the dark gra.s.s, with his face against the ground, the poor comte lay, bathed in his blood. He had remained in the same spot, and did not even seem to have made the slightest movement. Manicamp threw himself on his knees, lifted the comte in his arms, and found him quite cold, and steeped in blood. He let him gently fall again. Then, stretching out his hand and feeling all over the ground close to where the comte lay, he sought until he found De Guiche"s pistol.
"By Heaven!" he said, rising to his feet, pale as death and with the pistol in his hand, "you are not mistaken, he is quite dead."
"Dead!" repeated De Wardes.
"Yes; and his pistol is still loaded," added Manicamp, looking into the pan.
"But I told you that I took aim as he was walking towards me, and fired at him at the very moment he was going to fire at me."
"Are you quite sure that you fought with him, Monsieur de Wardes? I confess that I am very much afraid it has been a foul a.s.sa.s.sination.
Nay, nay, no exclamations! You have had your three shots, and his pistol is still loaded. You have killed his horse, and he, De Guiche, one of the best marksmen in France, has not touched even either your horse or yourself. Well, Monsieur de Wardes, you have been very unlucky in bringing me here; all the blood in my body seems to have mounted to my head; and I verily believe that since so good an opportunity presents itself, I shall blow your brains out on the spot. So, Monsieur de Wardes, recommend yourself to Heaven."
"Monsieur Manicamp, you cannot think of such a thing!"
"On the contrary, I am thinking of it very strongly."
"Would you a.s.sa.s.sinate me?"
"Without the slightest remorse, at least for the present."
"Are you a gentleman?"
"I have given a great many proofs of that."
"Let me defend my life, then, at least."
"Very likely; in order, I suppose, that you may do to me what you have done to poor De Guiche."
And Manicamp slowly raised his pistol to the height of De Wardes"s breast, and with arm stretched out, and a fixed, determined look on his face, took a careful aim.
De Wardes did not attempt a flight; he was completely terrified. In the midst, however, of this horrible silence, which lasted about a second, but which seemed an age to De Wardes, a faint sigh was heard.
"Oh," exclaimed De Wardes, "he still lives! Help, De Guiche, I am about to be a.s.sa.s.sinated!"
Manicamp fell back a step or two, and the two young men saw the comte raise himself slowly and painfully upon one hand. Manicamp threw the pistol away a dozen paces, and ran to his friend, uttering a cry of delight. De Wardes wiped his forehead, which was covered with a cold perspiration.
"It was just in time," he murmured.
"Where are you hurt?" inquired Manicamp of De Guiche, "and whereabouts are you wounded?"
De Guiche showed him his mutilated hand and his chest covered with blood.
"Comte," exclaimed De Wardes, "I am accused of having a.s.sa.s.sinated you; speak, I implore you, and say that I fought loyally."
"Perfectly so," said the wounded man; "Monsieur de Wardes fought quite loyally, and whoever says the contrary will make an enemy of me."
"Then, sir," said Manicamp, "a.s.sist me, in the first place, to carry this gentleman home, and I will afterwards give you every satisfaction you please; or, if you are in a hurry, we can do better still; let us stanch the blood from the comte"s wounds here, with your pocket-handkerchief and mine, and then, as there are two shots left, we can have them between us."
"Thank you," said De Wardes. "Twice already, in one hour, I have seen death too close at hand to be agreeable; I don"t like his look at all, and I prefer your apologies."
Manicamp burst out laughing, and Guiche, too, in spite of his sufferings. The two young men wished to carry him, but he declared he felt quite strong enough to walk alone. The ball had broken his ring-finger and his little finger, and then had glanced along his side, but without penetrating deeply into his chest. It was the pain rather than the seriousness of the wound, therefore, which had overcome De Guiche. Manicamp pa.s.sed his arm under one of the count"s shoulders, and De Wardes did the same with the other, and in this way they brought him back to Fontainebleau, to the house of the same doctor who had been present at the death of the Franciscan, Aramis"s predecessor.
Chapter XIV. The King"s Supper.
The king, while these matters were being arranged, was sitting at the supper-table, and the not very large number of guests for that day had taken their seats too, after the usual gesture intimating the royal permission. At this period of Louis XIV."s reign, although etiquette was not governed by the strict regulations subsequently adopted, the French court had entirely thrown aside the traditions of good-fellowship and patriarchal affability existing in the time of Henry IV., which the suspicious mind of Louis XIII. had gradually replaced with pompous state and ceremony, which he despaired of being able fully to realize.
The king, therefore, was seated alone at a small separate table, which, like the desk of a president, overlooked the adjoining tables. Although we say a small table, we must not omit to add that this small table was the largest one there. Moreover, it was the one on which were placed the greatest number and quant.i.ty of dishes, consisting of fish, game, meat, fruit, vegetables, and preserves. The king was young and full of vigor and energy, very fond of hunting, addicted to all violent exercises of the body, possessing, besides, like all the members of the Bourbon family, a rapid digestion and an appet.i.te speedily renewed. Louis XIV.
was a formidable table-companion; he delighted in criticising his cooks; but when he honored them by praise and commendation, the honor was overwhelming. The king began by eating several kinds of soup, either mixed together or taken separately. He intermixed, or rather separated, each of the soups by a gla.s.s of old wine. He ate quickly and somewhat greedily. Porthos, who from the beginning had, out of respect, been waiting for a jog of D"Artagnan"s arm, seeing the king make such rapid progress, turned to the musketeer and said in a low voice:
"It seems as if one might go on now; his majesty is very encouraging, from the example he sets. Look."
"The king eats," said D"Artagnan, "but he talks at the same time; try and manage matters in such a manner that, if he should happen to address a remark to you, he will not find you with your mouth full--which would be very disrespectful."
"The best way, in that case," said Porthos, "is to eat no supper at all; and yet I am very hungry, I admit, and everything looks and smells most invitingly, as if appealing to all my senses at once."
"Don"t think of not eating for a moment," said D"Artagnan; "that would put his majesty out terribly. The king has a saying, "that he who works well, eats well," and he does not like people to eat indifferently at his table."
"How can I avoid having my mouth full if I eat?" said Porthos.
"All you have to do," replied the captain of the musketeers, "is simply to swallow what you have in it, whenever the king does you the honor to address a remark to you."
"Very good," said Porthos; and from that moment he began to eat with a certain well-bred enthusiasm.
The king occasionally looked at the different persons who were at table with him, and, _en connoisseur_, could appreciate the different dispositions of his guests.
"Monsieur du Vallon!" he said.