Twenty years after by Alexandre Dumas and Auguste Maquet
Chapter XXX.
2165 words | Chapter 32
Skirmishing.
The halt at Noyon was but brief, every one there being wrapped in
profound sleep. Raoul had desired to be awakened should Grimaud arrive,
but Grimaud did not arrive. Doubtless, too, the horses on their part
appreciated the eight hours of repose and the abundant stabling which
was granted them. The Count de Guiche was awakened at five o’clock in
the morning by Raoul, who came to wish him good-day. They breakfasted
in haste, and at six o’clock had already gone ten miles.
The young count’s conversation was most interesting to Raoul, therefore
he listened much, whilst the count talked well and long. Brought up in
Paris, where Raoul had been but once; at the court, which Raoul had
never seen; his follies as page; two duels, which he had already found
the means of fighting, in spite of the edicts against them and, more
especially, in spite of his tutor’s vigilance—these things excited the
greatest curiosity in Raoul. Raoul had only been at M. Scarron’s house;
he named to Guiche the people whom he had seen there. Guiche knew
everybody—Madame de Neuillan, Mademoiselle d’Aubigné, Mademoiselle de
Scudéry, Mademoiselle Paulet, Madame de Chevreuse. He criticised
everybody humorously. Raoul trembled, lest he should laugh among the
rest at Madame de Chevreuse, for whom he entertained deep and genuine
sympathy, but either instinctively, or from affection for the duchess,
he said everything in her favor. His praises increased Raoul’s
friendship twofold. Then came the question of gallantry and love
affairs. Under this head, also, Bragelonne had much more to hear than
to tell. He listened attentively and fancied that he discovered through
three or four rather frivolous adventures, that the count, like
himself, had a secret to hide in the depths of his heart.
De Guiche, as we have said before, had been educated at the court, and
the intrigues of this court were not unknown to him. It was the same
court of which Raoul had so often heard the Comte de la Fère speak,
except that its aspect had much changed since the period when Athos had
himself been part of it; therefore everything which the Count de Guiche
related was new to his traveling companion. The young count, witty and
caustic, passed all the world in review; the queen herself was not
spared, and Cardinal Mazarin came in for his share of ridicule.
The day passed away as rapidly as an hour. The count’s tutor, a man of
the world and a _bon vivant_, up to his eyes in learning, as his pupil
described him, often recalled the profound erudition, the witty and
caustic satire of Athos to Raoul; but as regarded grace, delicacy, and
nobility of external appearance, no one in these points was to be
compared to the Comte de la Fère.
The horses, which were more kindly used than on the previous day,
stopped at Arras at four o’clock in the evening. They were approaching
the scene of war; and as bands of Spaniards sometimes took advantage of
the night to make expeditions even as far as the neighborhood of Arras,
they determined to remain in the town until the morrow. The French army
held all between Pont-à-Marc as far as Valenciennes, falling back upon
Douai. The prince was said to be in person at Bethune.
The enemy’s army extended from Cassel to Courtray; and as there was no
species of violence or pillage it did not commit, the poor people on
the frontier quitted their isolated dwellings and fled for refuge into
the strong cities which held out a shelter to them. Arras was
encumbered with fugitives. An approaching battle was much spoken of,
the prince having manœuvred, until that movement, only in order to
await a reinforcement that had just reached him.
The young men congratulated themselves on having arrived so
opportunely. The evening was employed in discussing the war; the grooms
polished their arms; the young men loaded the pistols in case of a
skirmish, and they awoke in despair, having both dreamed that they had
arrived too late to participate in the battle. In the morning it was
rumored that Prince de Condé had evacuated Bethune and fallen back on
Carvin, leaving, however, a strong garrison in the former city.
But as there was nothing positively certain in this report, the young
warriors decided to continue their way toward Bethune, free on the road
to diverge to the right and march to Carvin if necessary.
The count’s tutor was well acquainted with the country; he consequently
proposed to take a crossroad, which lay between that of Lens and that
of Bethune. They obtained information at Ablain, and a statement of
their route was left for Grimaud. About seven o’clock in the morning
they set out. De Guiche, who was young and impulsive, said to Raoul,
“Here we are, three masters and three servants. Our valets are well
armed and yours seems to be tough enough.”
“I have never seen him put to the test,” replied Raoul, “but he is a
Breton, which promises something.”
“Yes, yes,” resumed De Guiche; “I am sure he can fire a musket when
required. On my side I have two sure men, who have been in action with
my father. We therefore represent six fighting men; if we should meet a
little troop of enemies, equal or even superior in number to our own,
shall we charge them, Raoul?”
“Certainly, sir,” replied the viscount.
“Holloa! young people—stop there!” said the tutor, joining in the
conversation. “Zounds! how you manœuvre my instructions, count! You
seem to forget the orders I received to conduct you safe and sound to
his highness the prince! Once with the army you may be killed at your
good pleasure; but until that time, I warn you that in my capacity of
general of the army I shall order a retreat and turn my back on the
first red coat we come across.” De Guiche and Raoul glanced at each
other, smiling.
They arrived at Ablain without accident. There they inquired and
learned that the prince had in reality quitted Bethune and stationed
himself between Cambria and La Venthie. Therefore, leaving directions
at every place for Grimaud, they took a crossroad which conducted the
little troop by the bank of a small stream flowing into the Lys. The
country was beautiful, intersected by valleys as green as the emerald.
Here and there they passed little copses crossing the path which they
were following. In anticipation of some ambuscade in each of these
little woods the tutor placed his two servants at the head of the band,
thus forming the advance guard. Himself and the two young men
represented the body of the army, whilst Olivain, with his rifle upon
his knee and his eyes upon the watch, protected the rear.
They had observed for some time before them, on the horizon, a rather
thick wood; and when they had arrived at a distance of a hundred steps
from it, Monsieur d’Arminges took his usual precautions and sent on in
advance the count’s two grooms. The servants had just disappeared under
the trees, followed by the tutor, and the young men were laughing and
talking about a hundred yards off. Olivain was at the same distance in
the rear, when suddenly there resounded five or six musket-shots. The
tutor cried halt; the young men obeyed, pulling up their steeds, and at
the same moment the two valets were seen returning at a gallop.
The young men, impatient to learn the cause of the firing, spurred on
toward the servants. The tutor followed them.
“Were you stopped?” eagerly inquired the two youths.
“No,” replied the servants, “it is even probable that we have not been
seen; the shots were fired about a hundred paces in advance of us, in
the thickest part of the wood, and we returned to ask your advice.”
“My advice is this,” said Monsieur d’Arminges, “and if needs be, my
will, that we beat a retreat. There may be an ambuscade concealed in
this wood.”
“Did you see nothing there?” asked the count.
“I thought I saw,” said one of the servants, “horsemen dressed in
yellow, creeping along the bed of the stream.
“That’s it,” said the tutor. “We have fallen in with a party of
Spaniards. Come back, sirs, back.”
The two youths looked at each other, and at this moment a pistol-shot
and cries for help were heard. Another glance between the young men
convinced them both that neither had any wish to go back, and as the
tutor had already turned his horse’s head, they both spurred forward,
Raoul crying: “Follow me, Olivain!” and the Count de Guiche: “Follow,
Urban and Planchet!” And before the tutor could recover from his
surprise they had both disappeared into the forest. Whilst they spurred
their steeds they held their pistols ready also. In five minutes they
arrived at the spot whence the noise had proceeded, and then
restraining their horses, they advanced cautiously.
“Hush,” whispered De Guiche, “these are cavaliers.”
“Yes, three on horseback and three who have dismounted.”
“Can you see what they are doing?”
“Yes, they appear to be searching a wounded or dead man.”
“It is some cowardly assassination,” said De Guiche.
“They are soldiers, though,” resumed De Bragelonne.
“Yes, skirmishers; that is to say, highway robbers.”
“At them!” cried Raoul. “At them!” echoed De Guiche.
“Oh! gentlemen! gentlemen! in the name of Heaven!” cried the poor
tutor.
But he was not listened to, and his cries only served to arouse the
attention of the Spaniards.
The men on horseback at once rushed at the two youths, leaving the
three others to complete the plunder of the dead or wounded travelers;
for on approaching nearer, instead of one extended figure, the young
men discovered two. De Guiche fired the first shot at ten paces and
missed his man; and the Spaniard, who had advanced to meet Raoul, aimed
in his turn, and Raoul felt a pain in the left arm, similar to that of
a blow from a whip. He let off his fire at but four paces. Struck in
the breast and extending his arms, the Spaniard fell back on the
crupper, and the terrified horse, turning around, carried him off.
Raoul at this moment perceived the muzzle of a gun pointed at him, and
remembering the recommendation of Athos, he, with the rapidity of
lightning, made his horse rear as the shot was fired. His horse bounded
to one side, losing its footing, and fell, entangling Raoul’s leg under
its body. The Spaniard sprang forward and seized the gun by its muzzle,
in order to strike Raoul on the head with the butt. In the position in
which Raoul lay, unfortunately, he could neither draw his sword from
the scabbard, nor his pistols from their holsters. The butt end of the
musket hovered over his head, and he could scarcely restrain himself
from closing his eyes, when with one bound Guiche reached the Spaniard
and placed a pistol at his throat. “Yield!” he cried, “or you are a
dead man!” The musket fell from the soldier’s hands, who yielded on the
instant. Guiche summoned one of his grooms, and delivering the prisoner
into his charge, with orders to shoot him through the head if he
attempted to escape, he leaped from his horse and approached Raoul.
“Faith, sir,” said Raoul, smiling, although his pallor betrayed the
excitement consequent on a first affair, “you are in a great hurry to
pay your debts and have not been long under any obligation to me.
Without your aid,” continued he, repeating the count’s words “I should
have been a dead man—thrice dead.”
“My antagonist took flight,” replied De Guiche “and left me at liberty
to come to your assistance. But are you seriously wounded? I see you
are covered with blood!”
“I believe,” said Raoul, “that I have got something like a scratch on
the arm. If you will help me to drag myself from under my horse I hope
nothing need prevent us continuing our journey.”
Monsieur d’Arminges and Olivain had already dismounted and were
attempting to raise the struggling horse. At last Raoul succeeded in
drawing his foot from the stirrup and his leg from under the animal,
and in a second he was on his feet again.
“Nothing broken?” asked De Guiche.
“Faith, no, thank Heaven!” replied Raoul; “but what has become of the
poor wretches whom these scoundrels were murdering?”
“I fear we arrived too late. They have killed them, I think, and taken
flight, carrying off their booty. My servants are examining the
bodies.”
“Let us go and see whether they are quite dead, or if they can still be
helped,” suggested Raoul. “Olivain, we have come into possession of two
horses, but I have lost my own. Take for yourself the better of the two
and give me yours.”
They approached the spot where the unfortunate victims lay.
Reading Tips
Use arrow keys to navigate
Press 'N' for next chapter
Press 'P' for previous chapter