“But he, my friend, will not forget it, I will answer for him.”
“You tell me that to console me a little, Athos.”
“For what?”
“Mordioux! for all the expense I incurred. I have ruined myself, my friend, ruined myself for the restoration of this young prince who has just passed, cantering on his isabelle colored horse.”
“The king does not know you have ruined yourself, my friend; but he knows he owes you much.”
“And say, Athos, does that advance me in any respect? for, to do you justice, you have labored nobly. But I—I who in appearance marred your combinations, it was I who really made them succeed. Follow my calculations closely; you might not have, by persuasions or mildness, convinced General Monk, whilst I so roughly treated this dear general, that I furnished your prince with an opportunity of showing himself generous: this generosity was inspired in him by the fact of my fortunate mistake, and Charles is paid by the restoration which Monk has brought about.”
“All that, my dear friend, is strikingly true,” replied Athos.
“Well, strikingly true as it may be, it is not less true, my friend, that I shall return—greatly beloved by M. Monk, who calls me dear captain all day long, although I am neither dear to him nor a captain;—and much appreciated by the king, who has already forgotten my name;—it is not less true, I say, that I shall return to my beautiful country, cursed by the soldiers I had raised with the hopes of large pay, cursed by the brave Planchet, of who I have borrowed a part of his fortune.”
“How is that? What the devil had Planchet to do in all this?”
“Ah, yes, my friend; but this king, so spruce, so smiling, so adored, M. Monk fancies he has recalled him, you fancy you have supported him, I fancy I have brought him back, the people fancy they have reconquered him, he himself fancies he has negotiated his restoration; and yet nothing of all this is true, for Charles II., king of England, Scotland, and Ireland, has been replaced upon the throne by a French grocer, who lives in the Rue des Lombards, and is named Planchet. And such is grandeur! ‘Vanity!’ says the Scripture: vanity, all is vanity.’”