_ M. de Ponyville, as his family was still called in Gascony, or M. de Poneville, as he has ended by styling himself in Canterlot, had really commenced life as d'Sparkle now did; that is to say, without a bit in their saddlebags, but with a fund of audacity, shrewdness, and intelligence which makes the poorest Gascon gentlepony often derive more in hope from the paternal inheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentlepony derives in reality from theirs. His insolent bravery, his still more insolent success at a time when blows poured down like hail, had borne him to the top of that difficult ladder called Court Favor, which he had climbed four steps at a time.
He was the friend of the Princess, who , as everypony knows, has a memory as long as Equestria, honored highly the service of M. de Poneville's father. The father of M. de Poneville had served her so faithfully in her wars against the league that in default of bits-a thing to which the Bearnais was accustomed all his life, and who constantly paid his debts with that of which he never stood in need of borrowing, that is to say, with ready wit-in default of bits, we repeat, he authorized him, after the reduction of Canterlot, to assume for his family crest a golden lion passant upon gules, with the motto FIDELIS ET FORTIS. This was a great matter in the way of honor, but very little in the way of wealth; so that when the illustrious companion of the Princess died, the only inheritance he was able to leave his son was his sword and his motto. Thanks to this double gift and the spotless name that accompanied it, M. de Poneville was admitted into the household of the princess where he made such good use of his sword, and was so faithful to his motto, that Celestia, one of the good blades of her kingdom, was accustomed to say that if he had a friend who was about to fight, he would advise him to choose as a second, herself first, and Poneville next-or even, perhaps, before herself.
Thus Celestia had a real liking for Poneville-a royal liking, a self-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that unhappy period it was an important consideration to be surrounded by such ponies as Poneville. Many might take for their device the epithet STRONG, which formed the second part of his motto, but very few gentlecolts could lay claim to the FAITHFUL, which constituted the first. Poneville was one of these latter. His was one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedient intelligence like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quick eye, and a prompt hand; to whom sight appeared only to be given to see if the king were dissatisfied with anyone, and the hoof to strike this displeasing personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers, a Poltiot de Mare, or a Vitry. In short, up to this period nothing had been wanting to Poneville but opportunity; but he was ever on the watch for it, and he faithfully promised himself that he would not fail to seize it by its three hairs whenever it came within reach of his hand. At last Celestia made Poneville the captain of her Musketmares, who were to Celestia in devotedness, or rather in fanaticism, what her Ordinaries had been to her in previous centuries, and the Lunar Guard to her sister long ago.
On his part, the cardinal was not behind the Princess in this respect. When he saw the formidable and chosen body with which Celestia had surrounded herself, this second, or rather this first monarch of Equestria, became desirous that he, too, should have his guard. He had his Musketmares therefore, as Celestia had hers, and these two powerful rivals vied with each other in procuring, not only from all the provinces of Equestria, but even from all foreign states, the most celebrated swordsponies. It was not uncommon for Richelhoof and Celestia to dispute over their evening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. Each boasted the bearing and the courage of their own ponies. While exclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited them secretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction or genuine regret from the success or defeat of their own combatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a mare who was concerned in some few of these defeats and in many of these victories.
Poneville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was to this address that he owed the long and constant favor of a princess who has not left the reputation behind him of being very faithful in her friendships. He paraded his Musketeers before the Cardinal Armane Duponies with an insolent air which made the gray moustache of his Eminence curl with ire. Poneville understood admirably the war method of that period, in which he who could not live at the expense of the enemy must live at the expense of his compatriots. His soldiers formed a legion of devil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all but himself.
Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the Princess' Musketmares, or rather M. de Poneville's, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the public walks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting their manes, clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure in annoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall in with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the best of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that case to be both wept and avenged; often killing others, but then certain of not rotting in prison, M. de Poneville being there to claim them. Thus M. de Poneville was praised to the highest note by these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were, trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedient to his least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out the smallest insult.
M. de Poneville employed this powerful weapon for the princess, in the first place, and the friends of the princess-and then for himself and his own friends. For the rest, in the memoirs of this period, which has left so many memoirs, one does not find this worthy gentlecolt blamed even by his enemies; and he had many such among ponies of the pen as well as among ponies of the sword. In no instance, let us say, was this worthy gentlecolt accused of deriving personal advantage from the cooperation of his minions. Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered him the equal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest colt. Still further, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful exercises which fatigue, he had become one of the most gallant frequenters of revels, one of the most insinuating lady's men, one of the softest whisperers of interesting nothings of his day; the BONNES FORTUNES of de Poneville were talked of as those of M. de Blossompier had been talked of twenty years before, and that was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketmares was therefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes the zenith of human fortune.
Celestia absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his own vast radiance; earlier she had been a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, and left her personal splendor to each of her favorites, her individual value to each of her courtiers. In addition to the leeves of the princess and the cardinal, there might be reckoned in Canterlot at that time more than two hundred smaller but still noteworthy leeves. Among these two hundred leeves, that of Poneville was one of the most sought.
The court of his hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Coltombier, resembled a camp from by six o'clock in the morning in summer and eight o'clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketmares, who appeared to replace one another in order always to present an imposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and ready for anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon whose space modern civilization would build a whole house, ascended and descended the office seekers of Canterlot, who ran after any sort of favor-gentleponies from the provinces anxious to be enrolled, and servants in all sorts of liveries, bringing and carrying messages between their masters and M. de Poneville. In the antestable, upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is to say, those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzing prevailed from morning till night, while M. de Poneville, in his office contiguous to this antestable, received visits, listened to complaints, gave his orders, and like the princess in her balcony at the Louvre, had only to place himself at the window to review both his ponies and weapons.
The day on which d'Sparkle presented herself the assemblage was imposing, particularly for a provincial just arriving from his province. It is true that this provincial was a Gascon; and that, particularly at this period, the compatriots of d'Sparkle had the reputation of not being easily intimidated. When he had once passed the massive door covered with long square-headed nails, he fell into the midst of a troop of swordsponies, who crossed one another in their passage, calling out, quarreling, and playing tricks one with another. In order to make one's way amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was necessary to be an officer, a great noble, or a pretty pony.
It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that our young mare advanced with a beating heat, ranging her long rapier up her lanky leg, and keeping one hoof on the edge of her cap, with that half-smile of the embarrassed a provincial who wishes to put on a good face. When she had passed one group she began to breathe more freely; but she could not help observing that they turned round to look at her, and for the first time in her life d'Sparkle, who had till that day entertained a very good opinion of herself, felt ridiculous.
Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four Musketmares on the bottom steps, amusing themselves with the following exercise, while ten or twelve of their comrades waited upon the landing place to take their turn in the sport.
One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in hoof, prevented, or at least endeavored to prevent, the three others from ascending.
These three others fenced against her with their agile swords.
D'Sparkle at first took these weapons for foils, and believed them to be buttoned; but she soon perceived by certain scratches that every weapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each of these scratches not only the spectators, but even the actors themselves, laughed like so many madponies.
She who at the moment occupied the upper step kept her adversaries marvelously in check. A circle was formed around them. The conditions required that at every hit the mare touched should quit the game, yielding her turn for the benefit of the adversary who had hit them. In five minutes three were slightly wounded, one on the hoof, another on the ear, by the defender of the stair, who herself remained intact-a piece of skill which was worth to her, according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of favor.
However difficult it might be, or rather as she pretended it was, to astonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonished her. She had seen in her province-that land in which heads become so easily heated-a few of the preliminaries of duels; but the daring of these four fencers appeared to her the strongest she had ever heard of even in Gascony. She believed herself transported into that famous country of giants into which Coltiver afterward went and was so frightened; and yet she had not gained the goal, for there were still the landing place and the antestable.
On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused themselves with stories about loves, and in the antestable, with stories about the court. On the landing d'Sparkle blushed; in the antestable he trembled. Her warm and fickle imagination, which in Gascony had rendered formidable to young chamberponies, and even at times their lords, sometimes even thei mistresses, had never dreamed, even in moments of delirium, of half the amorous wonders or a quarter of the feats of gallantry which were here set forth in connection with names the best known and with details the least concealed. But if her morals were shocked on the landing, her respect for the cardinal was scandalized in the antestable. There, to her great astonishment, d'Sparkle heard the policy which made all Equestria tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as the private life of the cardinal, which so many great nobles had been punished for trying to pry into. That great colt who was so revered by d'Sparkle the elder served as an object of ridicule to the Musketmares of Poneville, who cracked their jokes upon his bandy hooves and his crooked back. Some sang ballads about Mme. d'Aguillon, his mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, his niece; while others formed parties and plans to annoy the pages and guards of the cardinal duke-all things which appeared to d'Sparkle monstrous impossibilities.
Nevertheless, when the name of the Princess was now and then uttered unthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemed to close for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They looked hesitatingly around them, and appeared to doubt the thickness of the partition between them and the office of M. de Poneville; but a fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation to his Eminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and the light was not withheld from any of his actions.
"Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged," thought the terrified d'Sparkle, "and I, no doubt, with them; for from the moment I have either listened to or heard them, I shall be held as an accomplice. What would my good father say, who so strongly pointed out to me the respect due to the cardinal, if he knew I was in the society of such pagans?"
We have no need, therefore, to say that d'Sparkle dared not join in the conversation, only she looked with all her eyes and listened with all her ears, stretching her five senses so as to lose nothing; and despite her confidence on the paternal admonitions, she felt herself carried by her tastes and led by her instincts to praise rather than to blame the unheard-of things which were taking place.
Although she was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de Poneville's courtiers, and this her first appearance in that place, she was at length noticed, and somepony came and asked her what she wanted. At this demand d'Sparkle gave her name very modestly, emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged the servant who had put the question to her to request a moment's audience of M. de Poneville-a request which the other, with an air of protection, promised to transmit in due season.
D'Sparkle, a little recovered from her first surprise, had now leisure to study costumes and physiognomy.
The center of the most animated group was a Musketmare of great height and haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiar as to attract general attention. She did not wear the uniform cloak-which was not obligatory at that epoch of less liberty but more independence-but a cerulean-blue doublet, a little faded and worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, which shone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of crimson velvet fell in graceful folds from her shoulders, disclosing in front the splendid baldric, from which was suspended a gigantic rapier. This Musketmare had just come off guard, complained of having a cold, and coughed from time to time affectedly. It was for this reason, as she said to those around him, that he had put on his cloak; and while she spoke with a lofty air, all admired her apple-embroidered baldric, and d'Sparkle more than anypony.
"What would you have?" said the Musketmare. "This fashion is coming in. It is a folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion. Besides, one must lay out one's inheritance somehow."
"Ah, Applejack!" cried one of his companions, "don't try to make us believe you obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was given to you by that veiled mare I met you with the other Sunday, near the gate St. Honor."
"No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentlemare, I bought it with the contents of my own purse," answered he whom they designated by the name Applejack.
"Yes; about in the same manner," said another Musketeer, "that I bought this new purse with what my mistress put into the old one."
"It's true, though," said Applejack; "and the proof is that I paid twelve bits for it."
The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist.
"Is it not true, Pinkie?" said Porthos, turning toward another Musketmare.
This other Musketmare formed a perfect contrast to his interrogator, who had just designated him by the name of Pinkie. She was a stout mare, with an open, ingenuous countenance, a pink cotton candy-like mane, a perpetual smile, and cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. She appeared to dread to lower her hooves lest their veins should swell, and she pinched the tips of his ears from time to time to preserve their delicate pink transparency. Habitually she spoke little and slowly, bowed frequently, laughed heartily, showing her teeth, which were fine and of which, as the rest of her pony, she appeared to take great care. She answered the appeal of her friend by an affirmative nod of the head.
This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to the baldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about it; and with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passed suddenly to another subject.
"What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?" asked another Musketmare, without addressing anyone in particular, but on the contrary speaking to everybody.
"And what does she say?" asked Applejack, in a self-sufficient tone.
"He relates that he met at Brussels Rochehoof, the AME DAMNEE of the cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed Rochehoof, thanks to her disguise, had tricked Monsieur de Laigues, like a ninny as he is."
"A ninny, indeed!" said Applejack; "but is the matter certain?"
"I had it from Pinkie," replied the Musketmare.
"Indeed?"
"Well, Gosh , Applejack, you knew it too" said Aramis. "I told you yesterday. Let's say no more about it."
"Say no more about it? That's YOUR opinion!" replied Applejack.
"Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions quickly. What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentlecolt, has his letters stolen from him by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal-has, with the help of this spy and thanks to this correspondence, Filais's throat cut, under the stupid pretext that she wanted to kill the Princess and marry one of her nephews! Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday to the great satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping with wonder at the news, you come and tell us today, "Let us say no more about it.'"
"Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it," replied Pinkie, patiently.
"This Rochehoof," cried Porthos, "if I were the esquire of poor Chalais, should pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with me."
"And you-you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the Red Duke," replied Pinkie.
"Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!" cried Applejack, clapping her hooves and nodding his head. "The Red Duke is capital. I'll circulate that saying, be assured, my dear fellow. Who says this Aramis is not a wit? What a misfortune it is you did not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbess you would have made!"
"Oh, it's only a temporary postponement," replied Pinkie; "I shall be one someday. You very well know, Applejack, that I continue to study theology for that purpose."
"She will be one, as she says," cried Applejack; "she will be one, sooner or later."
"Sooner." said Pinkie.
"She only waits for one thing to determine her to resume her cassock, which hangs behind her uniform," said another Musketmare.
"What is she waiting for?" asked another.
"Only till the Princess has given an heir to the crown of Equestria."
"No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Appljack; "thank Celestia the princess is still of an age to give one!"
"They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in Equestria," replied Pinkie, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence, apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.
"Pinkie, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interrupted Applejack. "Your wit is always leading you beyond walls; if Monsieur de Poneville heard you, you would repent of speaking thus."
"Are you going to give me a lesson, Applejack?" cried Aramis, from whose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.
"My dear fellow, be a Musketmare or an abbess. Be one or the other, but not both," replied Applejack. "You know what Dash told you the other day; you eat at everypony's mess. Ah, don't be angry, I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed upon between you, Dash and me. You go to Madame d'Aguillon's, and you pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy's, the cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, sweet Celestia! Don't trouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for your secret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possess that virtue, why by discord don't you make use of it with respect to her Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the princess and the cardinal, and how she likes; but remember that the princess is sacred, and if anyone speaks of her, let it be with a touch of respect."
"Applejack, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so," replied Pinkie. "You know I hate moralizing, except when it is done by Dash. As to you, good ma'am, you wear too magnificent a baldric to be strong on that head. I will be an abbess if it suits me. In the meanwhile I am a Musketmare; in that quality I say what I please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that you weary me."
"Pinkie!"
"Applejack!"
"Gentlemares! Gentlemares!" cried the surrounding group.
"Monsieur de Poneville awaits Monsieur d'Sparkle," cried a servant, throwing open the door of the cabinet.
At this announcement, during which the door remained open, everypony became mute, and amid the general silence the young mare crossed part of the length of the antestable, and entered the apartment of the captain of the Musketmares, congratulating herself with all her heart at having so narrowly escaped the end of this strange quarrel. _