La Dame de Monsoreau (44 page)

Read La Dame de Monsoreau Online

Authors: 1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas

Tags: #France -- History Henry III, 1574-1589 Fiction

" In what direction ? "

" In whatever direction I choose," answered the monk.

" And you are going ? "

" I don't know where." Gorenflot raised both his hands appealingly to heaven. " Ah! for God's sake!" said he, " lend me two crowns, M. Chicot, to help me on my journey."

" I will do better than that," answered Chicot.

" Ah ! what will you do ? "

" I am travelling, too, as I told you."

" Yes, you told me."

"Well, supposing I take you with me ?"

Gorenflot looked at the Gascon distrustfully, and like a man who could not believe in such good luck.

" But on one condition : you may be as ungodly as you like, but you must be very discreet. Are you willing to accept my proposal ? "

" Accept ? Well, I should think so ! But have we money enough to travel with ? "

" Look ! °' said Chicot, drawing out a long purse, gracefully rounded beneath the neck.

Gorenflot jumped for joy.

" How much ? " he asked.

" A hundred and fifty pistoles."

" And where are we going ? "

" You shall see, comrade."

" When shall we breakfast ? "

" At once."

" But what shall I ride ? " asked Gorenflot, uneasily.

" Not my horse ; corbceuf ! you would kill it."

" Then what am I to do ? " said Gorenflot, disappointed.

" The simplest thing in the world ; you have a belly like Silenus and you have the same hankering after wine. Well, then, to complete the resemblance, I '11 buy you an ass."

" You are my king, M. Chicot; you are the sun of my existence. See that the ass you purchase is robust — you are my god, M. Chicot. And now, where are we to breakfast ? "

" There, morbleu ! Look above the door and read, if you know how to read."

They were, in fact, in front of a sort of inn, and Gorenflot, following the direction of Chicot's finger, read :

" Ham, eggs, eel-pies, and white wine."

It would be difficult to describe the change that took place in Gorenflot's countenance at this sight: his face expanded,

his eyes were dilated, his mouth opened wide and disclosed a double row of white and hungry teeth. At length he raised his arms to heaven in token of his joyful gratitude, and, rocking his enormous body backward and forward, he sang the following song, for which the only excuse that could be given was the ecstasy in which he was plunged :

" The ass, escaped from bridle rein, At once with joy pricks up his ears; The wine, uncorked, with joy is fain To pour the ruby stream that cheers. But neither ass nor wine 's so gay As monk escaped from convent sway, Who, seated in a vine-clad bower, May safe defy the abbot's power."

" Capital! " cried Chicot ; " and now, dear brother, don't lose time, but get to your breakfast at once, while I go in search of an ass for you."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT TRAVELLED ON AN ASS NAMED PANURGE AND, WHILE TRAVELLING, LEARNED MANY THINGS HE DID NOT KNOW.

WHAT rendered Chicot so careless of the needs of his own stomach, for which, fool though he was or pretended to be, he had quite as much regard as any monk in the world, was the fact that he had had a liberal breakfast at the Corne d'Abon-dance before leaving it.

And besides, great passions, as some one has said, are meat and drink to a man ; now, Chicot, at this very moment, was under the influence of a great passion.

Having seen Brother Gorenflot seated at a table in the little inn, and that he was beginning to despatch the ham and eggs, rapidly placed before him, with his usual celerity, Chicot went among the people of the neighborhood in search of an ass for his companion. He found among the peasants of Sceaux, between an ox and a horse, the peaceful animal that was the object of Gorenflot's aspirations: it was about four years old, rather brown in color, and had a plump body, supported by four spindle-shanks. In that age, such an ass cost twenty

livres ; Chicot gave twenty-two and was blessed for his magnificent generosity.

Chicot returned with his booty, which he led into the room where the monk was eating. Gorenflot, who had managed to make away with the half of an eel-pie and his third bottle, Gorenflot, who was excited to the highest pitch of enthusiasm by the appearance of his steed, and, moreover, disposed by the fumes of a generous wine to indulge in all generous emotions, Gorenflot jumped on his ass's neck, and, after kissing both jaws, introduced between them a long crust of bread, whereat the said ass brayed with delight.

" Oh, oh! " cried Gorenflot, " there's an animal with a fine voice ! we '11 sing together, now and then. Thanks, friend Chicot, thanks."

And he baptized his ass on the spot by the name of Panurge.

Chicot, after casting his eye over the table, saw from its appearance there would be no tyranny in calling a halt on his companion's performance.

He said, then, in those tones which Gorenflot could never resist:

« Come, comrade, we must be off. We '11 lunch at Melun."

Although Chicot spoke in his most imperative manner, the promise he had coupled with his stern order was so pleasing that Gorenflot, instead of raising any objection, simply repeated:

"•At Melun ! at Melun ! "

And, without further delay, Gorenflot, aided by a chair, got up on the ass, whose saddle was merely a leather cushion from which hung two straps with loops at the end that did duty for stirrups. The monk inserted his sandals in these loops, seized the halter of the donkey with his right hand, planted his left firmly on the croup, and passed out of the hotel, as majestic as the god to whom Chicot, with some reason, had compared him.

As for Chicot, he bestrode his horse with the air of the consummate equestrian, and our two cavaliers trotted along on the road to Melun.

They did not stop for four leagues. Then a halt was called, of which the monk took advantage, stretched himself on the grass, and fell asleep. Chicot made a calculation : one hundred and twenty leagues, at ten leagues a day, would take twelve days.

Panurge patiently browsed a tuft of thistles.

Ten leagues was all that could be reasonably expected from the forces of a monk and an ass.

Chicot shook his head.

" It is not possible/' he murmured, looking down on Gorenflot, who was sleeping on the slope of a ditch as calmly as if he were resting on the softest eider-down coverlet; " it is not possible; if this monk care to follow me, he must make at least fifteen leagues a day."

Another torture for Brother Gorenflot, who had already witnessed so many!

Cliicot pushed the monk to awake him, and then communicated the result of his meditations.

Gorenflot opened his eyes.

" Are we at Melun ? " he inquired, " I am hungry."

" No, comrade, not yet," said Chicot; " and that's just why I roused you. We are going too slowly, venire de blche ! we are going too slowly."

" Eh ? going too slowly ? — and why should that vex you, dear Monsieur Chicot? Our life is but an uphill journey, though it ends in heaven; and all uphill journeys are tiresome. And what is the hurry ? The more time we spend on the road, the longer we '11 be together. Am I not travelling for the propagation of the faith, and you for your pleasure ? Now it 's clear the slower we go, the faster will the faith be propagated; and it 's just as clear the slower we go, the better will you amuse yourself. For both these reasons, my advice would be to stop a few days at Melun; I have been told the eel-pies there are excellent, and I should like to make a conscientious and judicious comparison between the eel-pies of Melun and those of other places. What have you to say to that, M. Chicot?"

" What I have to say is that we ought not to stop at Melun for lunch at all, but push forward as fast as we can and make up for lost time by not eating until we can sup at Montereau."

Gorenflot stared at his companion vacantly.

" Come, let us get on ! " said Chicot.

The monk, who had been lying his full length, with his arms crossed under his head, simply sat up and groaned.

" Oh, if you wish to remain behind, comrade," continued Chicot, " you are your own master and can travel in your own way."

"No, no," said Gorenflot, appalled at the isolation from

which he had escaped only by a miracle; " no, no, I '11 follow you, M. Chicot, I love you too much to leave you."

" Then mount and let us be off, comrade."

Gorenflot planted his ass against a little mound and succeeded in getting on, not astride, as before, but sideways, after the manner of ladies; he did so, he claimed, because this position rendered conversation easier. But the monk's real reason was that he foresaw a rapid acceleration to the movement of his steed and that his new situation would give him a double fulcrum: he could hold on by both mane and tail.

Chicot set his horse to a gallop; the ass followed, braying.

Gorenflot's first moments were something terrible, fortunately, the surface of the part on which he rested was so extended that he had less difficulty than another might have in maintaining his centre of gravity.

From time to time, Chicot stood up in his stirrups, examined the road intently, and, not seeing what he looked for on the horizon, redoubled his pace.

Gorenflot had too much to do at first to keep his seat to give any attention to these signs of vigilance and impatience. But when he had gradually acquired some confidence in his ability to maintain his equilibrium and noticed that Chicot was ever and anon going through the same performance:

"Why, dear Monsieur Chicot, what in the world are you looking for ? " said he.

" Nothing," answered Chicot, " 1 7 m only looking in the direction we ? re going."

" But we ? re going to Melun, are we not ? you said so yourself ; you even added that"

" We are not going, comrade, we 7 re not getting on," said the jester, spurring his horse.

" Not getting on! we not getting on!" cried the monk ; " why, we 're trotting as hard as we can."

" Then, let us gallop ! " said Chicot, urging his horse to that gait. Panurge, following the example, also began to gallop, but with an ill-disguised rage that boded no good to his rider.

Gorenflot was now almost suffocated.

" I say, I say, M. Chicot," he managed to shout as soon as he was able to speak, " you may call this a pleasure excursion, but I don't see where the pleasure of it is, I assure you."

« Gallop ! Gallop ! " answered Chicot.

" But the ascent is awfully hard."

" A good horseman gallops best when going uphill."

" Yes, but I never pretended to be a good horseman.' 7

" Then stay behind."

" No, no, ventrebleu ! not for all the world ! "

" Then gallop, as I told you."

And Chicot flew on at a more rattling pace than ever.

" Stay! Panurge is at his last gasp ! " cried Gorenflot. " Panurge is at a standstill ! "

""then good-bye, comrade," answered Chicot.

Gorenflot had a moment's temptation to reply in corresponding fashion ; but he recalled the fact that yonder horse, which he cursed from the bottom of his heart and which carried a man so crotchety, carried also the purse that was in the pocket of that man. He became resigned, and beating the donkey's side with his sandals, he forced him anew to a gallop.

" I shall kill my poor Panurge!" he cried, piteously, in hopes that though Chicot's sensibility was callous to assaults, his self-interest might prove more malleable.

" Well ! kill him, comrade, kill him," Chicot answered back, unmoved by a remark that Gorenflot judged so important, and not lessening his speed in the slightest ; " kill him, we '11 buy a mule."

As if these threatening words had come home to him, the ass left the middle of the road and dashed into a little dry side-path on which Gorenflot himself would not have ventured to go even on foot.

" Help! help ! " cried the monk^ " I shall tumble off into the river."

"No danger," answered Chicot; "if you tumble into the river I'll warrant you're sure to float without any aid."

" Oh!" mumbled Gorenflot, " this will be the death of me, for sure ! And to think all this has happened to me only because I am a somnambulist ! "

And the monk raised an appealing look to heaven, meaning thereby:

" Lord ! Lord ! what crime hath thy servant committed that thou shouldst afflict him with such an infirmity ? "

Suddenly Chicot, who had reached the top of the ascent, halted his horse so abruptly that the hind legs of the astonished brute bent until his crupper almost touched the ground.

Gorenflot, who was not so good a horseman as his companion, and who, besides, had to do with a halter for a bridle, Gorenflot, we repeat, continued his course.

" Stop, corboeuff stop ! " cried Chicot.

But the ass had got an idea into his head that he might just as well have a gallop, and asses' ideas are tenacious things.

" Stop! " cried Chicot again, " or, as sure as I am a gentleman, I '11 send a bullet through your skull!"

" What a devil of a fellow! " said Gorenflot to himself. « I wonder what mad dog bit him ! "

Then, Chicot's voice growing more and more menacing, and the monk believing he already heard the whistling of the bullet wherewith he was threatened, the latter executed a manoeuvre which his manner of riding enabled him to go through with the greatest ease: he slipped down to the ground.

" Could n't be done better! " said he, as he bravely dropped •on his centre of gravity, still holding fast with both hands to the halter of his ass, which resisted for a few steps, but ended by giving in.

Then Gorenflot looked round for Chicot, eager to detect on his countenance those marks of approbation that must surely be there at sight of a manoeuvre so skilfully executed.

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