"Your confidence does me honor," said Planchet: "but supposing you should not return?""That is possible, though not very probable.Then, Planchet, in case I should not return -- give me a pen! I will make my will." D'Artagnan took a pen and some paper, and wrote upon a plain sheet, -- "I, D'Artagnan, possess twenty thousand livres, laid up cent by cent during thirty years that I have been in the service of his majesty the king of France.Ileave five thousand to Athos, five thousand to Porthos and five thousand to Aramis, that they may give the said sums in my name and their own to my young friend Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne.I give the remaining five thousand to Planchet, that he may distribute the fifteen thousand with less regret among my friends.With which purpose I sign these presents.
-- D'Artagnan.
Planchet appeared very curious to know what D'Artagnan had written.
"Here," said the musketeer, "read it"
On reading the last lines the tears came into Planchet's eyes."You think, then, that I would not have given the money without that? Then I will have none of your five thousand francs."D'Artagnan smiled."Accept it, accept it, Planchet; and in that way you will only lose fifteen thousand francs instead of twenty thousand, and you will not be tempted to disregard the signature of your master and friend, by losing nothing at all."How well that dear Monsieur d'Artagnan knew the hearts of men and grocers! They who have pronounced Don Quixote mad because he rode out to the conquest of an empire with nobody but Sancho, his squire, and they who have pronounced Sancho mad because he accompanied his master in his attempt to conquer the said empire, -- they certainly will have no hesitation in extending the same judgment to D'Artagnan and Planchet.And yet the first passed for one of the most subtle spirits among the astute spirits of the court of France.As to the second, he had acquired by good right the reputation of having one of the longest heads among the grocers of the Rue des Lombards; consequently of Paris, and consequently of France.Now, to consider these two men from the point of view from which you would consider other men, and the means by the aid of which they contemplated to restore a monarch to his throne, compared with other means, the shallowest brains of the country where brains are most shallow must have revolted against the presumptuous madness of the lieutenant and the stupidity of his associate.
Fortunately, D'Artagnan was not a man to listen to the idle talk of those around him, or to the comments that were made on himself.He had adopted the motto, "Act well, and let people talk." Planchet on his part, had adopted this, "Act and say nothing." It resulted from this, that, according to the custom of all superior geniuses, these two men flattered themselves intra pectus, with being in the right against all who found fault with them.
As a beginning, D'Artagnan set out in the finest of possible weather, without a cloud in the heavens -- without a cloud on his mind, joyous and strong, calm and decided, great in his resolution, and consequently carrying with him a tenfold dose of that potent fluid which the shocks of mind cause to spring from the nerves, and which procure for the human machine a force and an influence of which future ages will render, according to all probability, a more arithmetical account than we can possibly do at present.He was again, as in times past, on that same road of adventures which had led him to Boulogne, and which he was now traveling for the fourth time.It appeared to him that he could almost recognize the trace of his own steps upon the road, and that of his first upon the doors of the hostelries; -- his memory, always active and present, brought back that youth which neither thirty years later his great heart nor his wrist of steel would have belied.What a rich nature was that of this man! He had all the passions, all the defects, all the weaknesses, and the spirit of contradiction familiar to his understanding changed all these imperfections into corresponding qualities.D'Artagnan, thanks to his ever active imagination, was afraid of a shadow; and ashamed of being afraid, he marched straight up to that shadow, and then became extravagant in his bravery if the danger proved to be real.Thus everything in him was emotion, and therefore enjoyment.He loved the society of others, but never became tired of his own; and more than once, if he could have been heard when he was alone, he might have been seen laughing at the jokes he related to himself or the tricks his imagination created just five minutes before ennui might have been looked for.D'Artagnan was not perhaps so gay this time as he would have been with the prospect of finding some good friends at Calais, instead of joining the ten scamps there; melancholy, however, did not visit him more than once a day, and it was about five visits that he received from that somber deity before he got sight of the sea at Boulogne, and then these visits were indeed but short.But when once D'Artagnan found himself near the field of action, all other feelings but that of confidence disappeared never to return.From Boulogne he followed the coast to Calais.Calais was the place of general rendezvous, and at Calais he had named to each of his recruits the hostelry of "Le Grand Monarque," where living was not extravagant, where sailors messed, and where men of the sword, with sheath of leather, be it understood, found lodging, table, food, and all the comforts of life, for thirty sous per diem.D'Artagnan proposed to himself to take them by surprise in flagrante delicto of wandering life, and to judge by the first appearance if he could count on them as trusty companions.
He arrived at Calais at half past four in the afternoon.
