never leave him alone an instant."
La Ramee became, therefore, the duke's dinner guest by compulsion--an eternal keeper, the shadow of his person; but La Ramee--
gay, frank, convivial, fond of play, a great hand at tennis, had one defect in the duke's eyes--his incorruptibility.
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Now, although La Ramee appreciated, as of a certain value, the honor of being shut up with a prisoner of so great importance, still the pleasure of living in intimacy with the grandson of Henry IV. hardly compensated for the loss of that which he had experienced in going from time to time to visit his family.
One may be a jailer or a keeper and at the same time a good father and husband. La Ramee adored his wife and children, whom now he could only catch a glimpse of from the top of the wall, when in order to please him they used to walk on the opposite side of the moat. 'Twas too brief an enjoyment, and La Ramee felt that the gayety of heart he had regarded as the cause of health (of which it was perhaps rather the result) would not long survive such a mode of life.
He accepted, therefore, with delight, an offer made to him by his friend the steward of the Duc de Grammont, to give him a substitute; he also spoke of it to Monsieur de Chavigny, who promised that he would not oppose it in any way--that is, if he approved of the person proposed.
We consider it useless to draw a physical or moral portrait of Grimaud; if, as we hope, our readers have not wholly forgotten the first part of this work, they must have preserved a clear idea of that estimable individual, who is wholly unchanged, except that he is twenty years older, an advance in life that has made him only more silent; although, since the change that had been working in himself, Athos had given Grimaud permission to speak.
But Grimaud had for twelve or fifteen years preserved habitual silence, and a habit of fifteen or twenty years' duration becomes
second nature.
18. Grimaud begins his Functions.
Grimaud thereupon presented himself with his smooth exterior at the donjon of Vincennes. Now Monsieur de Chavigny piqued
himself on his infallible penetration; for that which almost proved that he was the son of Richelieu was his everlasting pretension;
he examined attentively the countenance of the applicant for place and fancied that the contracted eyebrows, thin lips, hooked nose,
and prominent cheek-bones of Grimaud were favorable signs. He addressed about twelve words to him; Grimaud answered in four.
"Here's a promising fellow and it is I who have found out his merits," said Monsieur de Chavigny. "Go," he added, "and make yourself agreeable to Monsieur la Ramee, and tell him that you suit me in all respects."
Grimaud had every quality that could attract a man on duty who wishes to have a deputy. So, after a thousand questions which met with only a word in reply, La Ramee, fascinated by this sobriety in speech, rubbed his hands and engaged Grimaud.
"My orders?" asked Grimaud.
"They are these; never to leave the prisoner alone; to keep away from him every pointed or cutting instrument, and to prevent his
conversing any length of time with the keepers." "Those are all?" asked Grimaud.
"All now," replied La Ramee.
"Good," answered Grimaud; and he went right to the prisoner.
The duke was in the act of combing his beard, which he had allowed to grow, as well as his hair, in order to reproach Mazarin with his wretched appearance and condition. But having some days previously seen from the top of the donjon Madame de Montbazon pass in her carriage, and still cherishing an affection for that beautiful woman, he did not wish to be to her what he wished to be to Mazarin, and in the hope of seeing her again, had asked for a leaden comb, which was allowed him. The comb was to be a leaden one, because his beard, like that of most fair people, was rather red; he therefore dyed it thus whilst combing it.
As Grimaud entered he saw this comb on the tea-table; he took it up, and as he took it he made a low bow. The duke looked at this strange figure with surprise. The figure put the comb in its pocket.
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"Ho! hey! what's that?" cried the duke. "Who is this creature?" Grimaud did not answer, but bowed a second time.
"Art thou dumb?" cried the duke. Grimaud made a sign that he was not.
"What art thou, then? Answer! I command thee!" said the duke. "A keeper," replied Grimaud.
"A keeper!" reiterated the duke; "there was nothing wanting in my collection, except this gallows-bird. Halloo! La Ramee! some one!"
La Ramee ran in haste to obey the call.
"Who is this wretch who takes my comb and puts it in his pocket?" asked the duke.
"One of your guards, my prince; a man of talent and merit, whom you will like, as I and Monsieur de Chavigny do, I am sure."
"Why does he take my comb?"
"Why do you take my lord's comb?" asked La Ramee.
Grimaud drew the comb from his pocket and passing his fingers over the largest teeth, pronounced this one word, "Pointed."
"True," said La Ramee.
"What does the animal say?" asked the duke.
"That the king has forbidden your lordship to have any pointed instrument." "Are you mad, La Ramee? You yourself gave me this comb."
"I was very wrong, my lord, for in giving it to you I acted in opposition to my orders." The duke looked furiously at Grimaud.
"I perceive that this creature will be my particular aversion," he muttered.
Grimaud, nevertheless, was resolved for certain reasons not at once to come to a full rupture with the prisoner; he wanted to inspire, not a sudden repugnance, but a good, sound, steady hatred; he retired, therefore, and gave place to four guards, who, having breakfasted, could attend on the prisoner.
A fresh practical joke now occurred to the duke. He had asked for crawfish for his breakfast on the following morning; he intended
to pass the day in making a small gallows and hang one of the finest of these fish in the middle of his room--the red color evidently conveying an allusion to the cardinal--so that he might have the pleasure of hanging Mazarin in effigy without being accused of having hung anything more significant than a crawfish.
The day was employed in preparations for the execution. Every one grows childish in prison, but the character of Monsieur de Beaufort was particularly disposed to become so. In the course of his morning's walk he collected two or three small branches from a tree and found a small piece of broken glass, a discovery that quite delighted him. When he came home he formed his handkerchief into
a loop.
Nothing of all this escaped Grimaud, but La Ramee looked on with the curiosity of a father who thinks that he may perhaps get a cheap idea concerning a new toy for his children. The guards looked on it with indifference. When everything was ready, the gallows hung in the middle of the room, the loop made, and when the duke had cast a glance upon the plate of crawfish, in order to select
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the finest specimen among them, he looked around for his piece of glass; it had disappeared.
"Who has taken my piece of glass?" asked the duke, frowning. Grimaud made a sign to denote that he had done so. "What! thou again! Why didst thou take it?"
"Yes--why?" asked La Ramee.
Grimaud, who held the piece of glass in his hand, said: "Sharp."
"True, my lord!" exclaimed La Ramee. "Ah! deuce take it! we have a precious fellow here!"
"Monsieur Grimaud!" said the duke, "for your sake I beg of you, never come within the reach of my fist!" "Hush! hush!" cried La Ramee, "give me your gibbet, my lord. I will shape it out for you with my knife." And he took the gibbet and shaped it out as neatly as possible.
"That's it," said the duke, "now make me a little hole in the floor