The Three Musketeers - Dumas

21 THE COUNTESS DE WINTER
As they rode along, the duke endeavored to draw from D''Artagnan,
not all that had happened, but what D''Artagnan himself knew. By
adding all that he heard from the mouth of the young man to his
own remembrances, he was enabled to form a pretty exact idea of a
position of the seriousness of which, for the rest, the queen''s
letter, short but explicit, gave him the clue. But that which
astonished him most was that the cardinal, so deeply interested
in preventing this young man from setting his foot in England,
had not succeeded in arresting him on the road. It was then,
upon the manifestation of this astonishment, that D''Artagnan
related to him the precaution taken, and how, thanks to the
devotion of his three friends, whom he had left scattered and
bleeding on the road, he had succeeded in coming off with a
single sword thrust, which had pierced the queen''s letter and for
which he had repaid M. de Wardes with such terrible coin. While
he was listening to this recital, delivered with the greatest
simplicity, the duke looked from time to time at the young man
with astonishment, as if he could not comprehend how so much
prudence, courage, and devotedness could be allied with a
countenance which indicated not more than twenty years.
The horses went like the wind, and in a few minutes they were at
the gates of London. D''Artagnan imagined that on arriving in
town the duke would slacken his pace, but it was not so. He kept
on his way at the same rate, heedless about upsetting those whom
he met on the road. In fact, in crossing the city two or three
accidents of this kind happened; but Buckingham did not even turn
his head to see what became of those he had knocked down.
D''Artagnan followed him amid cries which strongly resembled
curses.
On entering the court of his hotel, Buckingham sprang from his
horse, and without thinking what became of the animal, threw the
bridle on his neck, and sprang toward the vestibule. D''Artagnan
did the same, with a little more concern, however, for the noble
creatures, whose merits he fully appreciated; but he had the
satisfaction of seeing three or four grooms run from the kitchens
and the stables, and busy themselves with the steeds.
The duke walked so fast that D''Artagnan had some trouble in
keeping up with him. He passed through several apartments, of an
elegance of which even the greatest nobles of France had not even
an idea, and arrived at length in a bedchamber which was at once
a miracle of taste and of richness. In the alcove of this
chamber was a door concealed in the tapestry which the duke
opened with a little gold key which he wore suspended from his
neck by a chain of the same metal. With discretion D''Artagnan
remained behind; but at the moment when Buckingham crossed the
threshold, he turned round, and seeing the hesitation of the
young man, "Come in!" cried he, "and if you have the good fortune
to be admitted to her Majesty''s presence, tell her what you have
seen."
Encouraged by this invitation, D''Artagnan followed the duke, who
closed the door after them. The two found themselves in a small
chapel covered with a tapestry of Persian silk worked with gold,
and brilliantly lighted with a vast number of candles. Over a
species of altar, and beneath a canopy of blue velvet, surmounted
by white and red plumes, was a full-length portrait of Anne of
Austria, so perfect in its resemblance that D''Artagnan uttered a
cry of surprise on beholding it. One might believe the queen was
about to speak. On the altar, and beneath the portrait, was the
casket containing the diamond studs.
The duke approached the altar, knelt as a priest might have done
before a crucifix, and opened the casket. "There, said he,
drawing from the casket a large bow of blue ribbon all sparkling
with diamonds, "there are the precious studs which I have taken
an oath should be buried with me. The queen have them to me, the
queen requires them again. Her will be done, like that of God,
in all things."
Then, he began to kiss, one after the other, those dear studs
with which he was about to part. All at once he uttered a
terrible cry.
"What is the matter?" exclaimed D''Artagnan, anxiously; "what has
happened to you, my Lord?"
"All is lost!" cried Buckingham, becoming as pale as a corpse;
"two of the studs are wanting, there are only ten."
"Can you have lost them, my Lord, or do you think they have been
stolen?"
"They have been stolen," replied the duke, "and it is the
cardinal who has dealt this blow. Hold; see! The ribbons which
held them have been cut with scissors."
"If my Lord suspects they have been stolen, perhaps the person
who stole them still has them in his hands."
"Wait, wait!" said the duke. "The only time I have worn these
studs was at a ball given by the king eight days ago at Windsor.
The Comtesse de Winter, with whom I had quarreled, became
reconciled to me at that ball. That reconciliation was nothing
but the vengeance of a jealous woman. I have never seen her from
that day. The woman is an agent of the cardinal."
"He has agents, then, throughout the world?" cried D''Artagnan.
"Oh, yes," said Buckingham, grating his teeth with rage. "Yes,
he is a terrible antagonist. But when is this ball to take
place?"
"Monday next."
"Monday next! Still five days before us. That''s more time than
we want. Patrick!" cried the duke, opening the door of the
chapel, "Patrick!" His confidential valet appeared.
"My jeweler and my secretary."
The valet went out with a mute promptitude which showed him
accustomed to obey blindly and without reply.
But although the jeweler had been mentioned first, it was the
secretary who first made his appearance. This was simply because
he lived in the hotel. He found Buckingham seated at a table in
his bedchamber, writing orders with his own hand.
"Mr. Jackson," said he, "go instantly to the Lord Chancellor, and
tell him that I charge him with the execution of these orders. I
wish them to be promulgated immediately."
"But, my Lord, if the Lord Chancellor interrogates me upon the
motives which may have led your Grace to adopt such an
extraordinary measure, what shall I reply?"
"That such is my pleasure, and that I answer for my will to no
man."
"Will that be the answer," replied the secretary, smiling, "which
he must transmit to his Majesty if, by chance, his Majesty should
have the curiosity to know why no vessel is to leave any of the
ports of Great Britain?"
"You are right, Mr. Jackson," replied Buckingham. "He will say,
in that case, to the king that I am determined on war, and that
this measure is my first act of hostility against France."
The secretary bowed and retired.
"We are safe on that side," said Buckingham, turning toward
D''Artagnan. "If the studs are not yet gone to Paris, they will
not arrive till after you."
"How so?"
"I have just placed an embargo on all vessels at present in his
Majesty''s ports, and without particular permission, not one dare
life an anchor."
D''Artagnan looked with stupefaction at a man who thus employed
the unlimited power with which he was clothed by the confidence
of a king in the prosecution of his intrigues. Buckingham saw by
the expression of the young man''s face what was passing in his
mind, and he smiled.
"Yes," said he, "yes, Anne of Austria is my true queen. Upon a
word from her, I would betray my country, I would betray my king,
I would betray my God. She asked me not to send the Protestants
of La Rochelle the assistance I promised them; I have not done
so. I broke my word, it is true; but what signifies that? I
obeyed my love; and have I not been richly paid for that
obedience? It was to that obedience I owe her portrait."
D''Artagnan was amazed to note by what fragile and unknown threads
the destinies of nations and the lives of men are suspended. He
was lost in these reflections when the goldsmith entered. He was
an Irishman--one of the most skillful of his craft, and who
himself confessed that he gained a hundred thousand livres a year
by the Duke of Buckingham.
"Mr. O''Reilly," said the duke, leading him into the chapel, "look
at these diamond studs, and tell me what they are worth apiece."
The goldsmith cast a glance at the elegant manner in which they
were set, calculated, one with another, what the diamonds were
worth, and without hesitation said, "Fifteen hundred pistoles
each, my Lord."
"How many days would it require to make two studs exactly like
them? You see there are two wanting."
"Eight days, my Lord."
"I will give you three thousand pistoles apiece if I can have
them by the day after tomorrow."
"My Lord, they shall be yours."
"You are a jewel of a man, Mr. O''Reilly; but that is not all.
These studs cannot be trusted to anybody; it must be done in the
palace."
"Impossible, my Lord! There is no one but myself can so execute
them that one cannot tell the new from the old."
"Therefore, my dear Mr. O''Reilly, you are my prisoner. And if
you wish ever to leave my palace, you cannot; so make the best of
it. Name to me such of your workmen as you need, and point out
the tools they must bring."
The goldsmith knew the duke. He knew all objection would be
useless, and instantly determined how to act.
"May I be permitted to inform my wife?" said he.
"Oh, you may even see her if you like, my dear Mr. O''Reilly.
Your captivity shall be mild, be assured; and as every
inconvenience deserves its indemnification, here is, in ad***ion
to the price of the studs, an order for a thousand pistoles, to
make you forget the annoyance I cause you."
D''Artagnan could not get over the surprise created in him by this
minister, who thus open-handed, sported with men and millions.
As to the goldsmith, he wrote to his wife, sending her the order
for the thousand pistoles, and charging her to send him, in
exchange, his most skillful apprentice, an assortment of
diamonds, of which he gave the names and the weight, and the
necessary tools.
Buckingham conducted the goldsmith to the chamber destined for
him, and which, at the end of half an hour, was transformed into
a workshop. Then he placed a sentinel at each door, with an
order to admit nobody upon any pretense but his VALET DE CHAMBRE,
Patrick. We need not add that the goldsmith, O''Reilly, and his
assistant, were prohibited from going out under any pretext.
This point, settled, the duke turned to D''Artagnan. "Now, my
young friend," said he, "England is all our own. What do you
wish for? What do you desire?"
"A bed, my Lord," replied D''Artagnan. "At present, I confess,
that is the thing I stand most in need of."
Buckingham gave D''Artagnan a chamber adjoining his own. He
wished to have the young man at hand--not that he at all
mistrusted him, but for the sake of having someone to whom he
could constantly talk of the queen.
In one hour after, the ordinance was published in London that no
vessel bound for France should leave port, not even the packet
boat with letters. In the eyes of everybody this was a
declaration of war between the two kingdoms.
On the day after the morrow, by eleven o''clock, the two diamond
studs were finished, and they were so completely imitated, so
perfectly alike, that Buckingham could not tell the new ones from
the old ones, and experts in such matters would have been
deceived as he was. He immediately called D''Artagnan. "Here,"
said he to him, "are the diamond studs that you came to bring;
and be my witness that I have done all that human power could
do."
"Be satisfied, my Lord, I will tell all that I have seen. But
does your Grace mean to give me the studs without the casket?"
"The casket would encumber you. Besides, the casket is the more
precious from being all that is left to me. You will say that I
keep it."
"I will perform your commission, word for word, my Lord."
"And now," resumed Buckingham, looking earnestly at the young
man, "how shall I ever acquit myself of the debt I owe you?"
D''Artagnan blushed up to the whites of his eyes. He saw that the
duke was searching for a means of making him accept something and
the idea that the blood of his friends and himself was about to
be paid for with English gold was strangely repugnant to him.
"Let us understand each other, my Lord," replied D''Artagnan, "and
let us make things clear beforehand in order that there may be no
mistake. I am in the service of the King and Queen of France,
and form part of the company of Monsieur Dessessart, who, as well
as his brother-in-law, Monsieur de Treville, is particularly
attached to their Majesties. What I have done, then, has been
for the queen, and not at all for your Grace. And still further,
it is very probable I should not have done anything of this, if
it had not been to make myself agreeable to someone who is my
lady, as the queen is yours."
"Yes," said the duke, smiling, "and I even believe that I know
that other person; it is--"
"My Lord, I have not named her!" interrupted the young man,
warmly.
"That is true," said the duke; "and it is to this person I am
bound to discharge my debt of gratitude."
"You have said, my Lord; for truly, at this moment when there is
question of war, I confess to you that I see nothing in your
Grace but an Englishman, and consequently an enemy whom I should
have much greater pleasure in meeting on the field of battle than
in the park at Windsor of the corridors of the Louvre--all which,
however, will not prevent me from executing to the very point my
commission or from laying down my life, if there be need of it,
to accomplish it; but I repeat it to your Grace, without your
having personally on that account more to thank me for in this
second interview than for what I did for you in the first."
"We say, ''Proud as a Scotsman,''" murmured the Duke of Buckingham.
"And we say, ''Proud as a Gascon,''" replied D''Artagnan. "The
Gascons are the Scots of France."
D''Artagnan bowed to the duke, and was retiring.
"Well, are you going away in that manner? Where, and how?"
"That''s true!"
"Fore Gad, these Frenchmen have no consideration!"
"I had forgotten that England was an island, and that you were
the king of it."
"Go to the riverside, ask for the brig SUND, and give this letter
to the captain; he will convey you to a little port, where
certainly you are not expected, and which is ordinarily only
frequented by fishermen."
"The name of that port?"
"St. Valery; but listen. When you have arrived there you will go
to a mean tavern, without a name and without a sign--a mere
fisherman''s hut. You cannot be mistaken; there is but one."
"Afterward?"
"You will ask for the host, and will repeat to him the word
''Forward!''"
"Which means?"
"In French, EN AVANT. It is the password. He will give you a
horse all saddled, and will point out to you the road you ought
to take. You will find, in the same way, four relays on your
route. If you will give at each of these relays your address in
Paris, the four horses will follow you thither. You already know
two of them, and you appeared to appreciate them like a judge.
They were those we rode on; and you may rely upon me for the
others not being inferior to them. These horses are equipped for
the field. However proud you may be, you will not refuse to
accept one of them, and to request your three companions to
accept the others--that is, in order to make war against us.
Besides, the end justified the means, as you Frenchmen say, does
it not?"
"Yes, my Lord, I accept them," said D''Artagnan; "and if it please
God, we will make a good use of your presents."
"Well, now, your hand, young man. Perhaps we shall soon meet on
the field of battle; but in the meantime we shall part good
friends, I hope."
"Yes, my Lord; but with the hope of soon becoming enemies."
"Be satisfied; I promise you that."
"I depend upon your word, my Lord."
D''Artagnan bowed to the duke, and made his way as quickly as
possible to the riverside. Opposite the Tower of London he found
the vessel that had been named to him, delivered his letter to
the captain, who after having it examined by the governor of the
port made immediate preparations to sail.
Fifty vessels were waiting to set out. Passing alongside one of
them, D''Artagnan fancied he perceived on board it the woman of
Meung--the same whom the unknown gentleman had called Milady, and
whom D''Artagnan had thought so handsome; but thanks to the
current of the stream and a fair wind, his vessel passed so
quickly that he had little more than a glimpse of her.
The next day about nine o''clock in the morning, he landed at St.
Valery. D''Artagnan went instantly in search of the inn, and
easily discovered it by the riotous noise which resounded from
it. War between England and France was talked of as near and
certain, and the jolly sailors were having a carousal.
D''Artagnan made his way through the crowd, advanced toward the
host, and pronounced the word "Forward!" The host instantly made
him a sign to follow, went out with him by a door which opened
into a yard, led him to the stable, where a saddled horse awaited
him, and asked him if he stood in need of anything else.
"I want to know the route I am to follow," said D''Artagnan.
"Go from hence to Blangy, and from Blangy to Neufchatel. At
Neufchatel, go to the tavern of the Golden Harrow, give the
password to the landlord, and you will find, as you have here, a
horse ready saddled."
"Have I anything to pay?" demanded D''Artagnan.
"Everything is paid," replied the host, "and liberally. Begone,
and may God guide you!"
"Amen!" cried the young man, and set off at full gallop.
Four hours later he was in Neufchatel. He strictly followed the
instructions he had received. At Neufchatel, as at St. Valery,
he found a horse quite ready and awaiting him. He was about to
remove the pistols from the saddle he had quit to the one he was
about to fill, but he found the holsters furnished with similar
pistols.
"Your address at Paris?"
"Hotel of the Guards, company of Dessessart."
"Enough," replied the questioner.
"Which route must I take?" demanded D''Artagnan, in his turn.
"That of Rouen; but you will leave the city on your right. You
must stop at the little village of Eccuis, in which there is but
one tavern--the Shield of France. Don''t condemn it from
appearances; you will find a horse in the stables quite as good
as this."
"The same password?"
"Exactly."
"Adieu, master!"
"A good journey, gentlemen! Do you want anything?"
D''Artagnan shook his head, and set off at full speed. At Eccuis,
the same scene was repeated. He found as provident a host and a
fresh horse. He left his address as he had done before, and set
off again at the same pace for Pontoise. At Pontoise he changed
his horse for the last time, and at nine o''clock galloped into
the yard of Treville''s hotel. He had made nearly sixty leagues
in little more than twelve hours.
M. de Treville received him as if he had seen him that same
morning; only, when pressing his hand a little more warmly than
usual, he informed him that the company of Dessessart was on duty
at the Louvre, and that he might repair at once to his post.

22 THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON
On the morrow, nothing was talked of in Paris but the ball which
the aldermen of the city were to give to the king and queen, and
in which their Majesties were to dance the famous La Merlaison--
the favorite ballet of the king.
Eight days had been occupied in preparations at the Hotel de
Ville for this important evening. The city carpenters had
erected scaffolds upon which the invited ladies were to be
placed; the city grocer had ornamented the chambers with two
hundred FLAMBEAUX if white wax, a piece of luxury unheard of at
that period; and twenty violins were ordered, and the price for
them fixed at double the usual rate, upon con***ion, said the
report, that they should be played all night.
At ten o''clock in the morning the Sieur de la Coste, ensign in
the king''s Guards, followed by two officers and several archers
of that body, came to the city registrar, named Clement, and
demanded of him all the keys of the rooms and offices of the
hotel. These keys were given up to him instantly. Each of them
had ticket attached to it, by which it might be recognized; and
from that moment the Sieur de la Coste was charged with the care
of all the doors and all the avenues.
At eleven o''clock came in his turn Duhallier, captain of the
Guards, bringing with him fifty archers, who were distributed
immediately through the Hotel de Ville, at the doors assigned
them.
At three o''clock came two companies of the Guards, one French,
the other Swiss. The company of French guards was composed of
half of M. Duhallier''s men and half of M. Dessessart''s men.
At six in the evening the guests began to come. As fast as they
entered, they were placed in the grand saloon, on the platforms
prepared for them.
At nine o''clock Madame la Premiere Presidente arrived. As next
to the queen, she was the most considerable personage of the
fete, she was received by the city officials, and placed in a box
opposite to that which the queen was to occupy.
At ten o''clock, the king''s collation, consisting of preserves and
other delicacies, was prepared in the little room on the side of
the church of St. Jean, in front of the silver buffet of the
city, which was guarded by four archers.
At midnight great cries and loud acclamations were heard. It was
the king, who was passing through the streets which led from the
Louvre to the Hotel de Ville, and which were all illuminated with
colored lanterns.
Immediately the alderman, clothed in their cloth robes and
preceded by six sergeants, each holding a FLAMBEAU in his hand,
went to attend upon the king, whom they met on the steps, where
the provost of the merchants made him the speech of welcome--a
compliment to which his Majesty replied with an apology for
coming so late, laying the blame upon the cardinal, who had
detained him till eleven o''clock, talking of affairs of state.
His Majesty, in full dress, was accompanied by his royal
Highness, M. le Comte de Soissons, by the Grand Prior, by the Duc
de Longueville, by the Duc d''Euboeuf, by the Comte d''Harcourt, by
the Comte de la Roche-Guyon, by M. de Liancourt, by M. de
Baradas, by the Comte de Cramail, and by the Chevalier de
Souveray. Everybody noticed that the king looked dull and
preoccupied.
A private room had been prepared for the king and another for
Monsieur. In each of these closets were placed masquerade
dresses. The same had been done for the queen and Madame the
President. The nobles and ladies of their Majesties'' suites were
to dress, two by two, in chambers prepared for the purpose.
Before entering his closet the king desired to be informed the
moment the cardinal arrived.
Half an hour after the entrance of the king, fresh acclamations
were heard; these announced the arrival of the queen. The
aldermen did as they had done before, and preceded by their
sergeants, advanced to receive their illustrious guest. The
queen entered the great hall; and it was remarked that, like the
king, she looked dull and even weary.
At the moment she entered, the curtain of a small gallery which
to that time had been closed, was drawn, and the pale face of the
cardinal appeared, he being dresses as a Spanish cavalier. His
eyes were fixed upon those of the queen, and a smile of terrible
joy passed over his lips; the queen did not wear her diamond
studs.
The queen remained for a short time to receive the compliments of
the city dignitaries and to reply to the salutations of the
ladies. All at once the king appeared with the cardinal at one
of the doors of the hall. The cardinal was speaking to him in a
low voice, and the king was very pale.
The king made his way through the crowd without a mask, and the
ribbons of his doublet scarcely tied. He went straight to the
queen, and in an altered voice said, "Why, madame, have you not
thought proper to wear your diamond studs, when you know it would
give me so much gratification?"
The queen cast a glance around her, and saw the cardinal behind,
with a diabolical smile on his countenance.
"Sire," replied the queen, with a faltering voice, "because, in
the midst of such a crowd as this, I feared some accident might
happen to them."
"And you were wrong, madame. If I made you that present it was
that you might adorn yourself therewith. I tell you that you
were wrong."
The voice of the king was tremulous with anger. Everybody looked
and listened with astonishment, comprehending nothing of what
passed.
"Sire," said the queen, "I can send for them to the Louvre, where
they are, and thus your Majesty''s wishes will be complied with."
"Do so, madame, do so, and that at once; for within an hour the
ballet will commence."
The queen bent in token of submission, and followed the ladies
who were to conduct her to her room. On his part the king
returned to his apartment.
There was a moment of trouble and confusion in the assembly.
Everybody had remarked that something had passed between the king
and queen; but both of them had spoken so low that everybody, out
of respect, withdrew several steps, so that nobody had heard
anything. The violins began to sound with all their might, but
nobody listened to them.
The king came out first from his room. He was in a most elegant
hunting costume; and Monsieur and the other nobles were dressed
like him. This was the costume that best became the king. So
dressed, he really appeared the first gentleman of his kingdom.
The cardinal drew near to the king, and placed in his hand a
small casket. The king opened it, and found in it two diamond
studs.
"What does this mean?" demanded he of the cardinal.
"Nothing," replied the latter; "only, if the queen has the studs,
which I very much doubt, count them, sire, and if you only find
ten, ask her Majesty who can have stolen from her the two studs
that are here."
The king looked at the cardinal as if to interrogate him; but he
had not time to address any question to him--a cry of admiration
burst from every mouth. If the king appeared to be the first
gentleman of his kingdom, the queen was without doubt the most
beautiful woman in France.
It is true that the habit of a huntress became her admirably.
She wore a beaver had with blue feathers, a surtout of gray-pearl
velvet, fastened with diamond clasps, and a petticoat of blue
satin, embroidered with silver. On her left shoulder sparkled
the diamonds studs, on a bow of the same color as the plumes and
the petticoat.
The king trembled with joy and the cardinal with vexation;
although, distant as they were from the queen, they could not
count the studs. The queen had them. The only question was, had
she ten or twelve?
At that moment the violins sounded the signal for the ballet.
The king advanced toward Madame the President, with whom he was
to dance, and his Highness Monsieur with the queen. They took
their places, and the ballet began.
The king danced facing the queen, and every time he passed by
her, he devoured with his eyes those studs of which he could not
ascertain the number. A cold sweat covered the brow of the
cardinal.
The ballet lasted an hour, and had sixteen ENTREES. The ballet
ended amid the applause of the whole assemblage, and everyone
reconducted his lady to her place; but the king took advantage of
the privilege he had of leaving his lady, to advance eagerly
toward the queen.
"I thank you, madame," said he, "for the deference you have shown
to my wishes, but I think you want two of the studs, and I bring
them back to you."
With these words he held out to the queen the two studs the
cardinal had given him.
"How, sire?" cried the young queen, affecting surprise, "you are
giving me, then, two more: I shall have fourteen."
In fact the king counted them, and the twelve studs were all on
her Majesty''s shoulder.
The king called the cardinal.
"What does this mean, Monsieur Cardinal?" asked the king in a
severe tone.
"This means, sire," replied the cardinal, "that I was desirous of
presenting her Majesty with these two studs, and that not daring
to offer them myself, I adopted this means of inducing her to
accept them."
"And I an the more grateful to your Eminence," replied Anne of
Austria, with a smile that proved she was not the dupe of this
ingenious gallantry, "from being certain that these two studs
alone have cost you as much as all the others cost his Majesty."
Then saluting the king and the cardinal, the queen resumed her
way to the chamber in which she had dressed, and where she was to
take off her costume.
The attention which we have been obliged to give, during the
commencement of the chapter, to the illustrious personages we
have introduced into it, has diverted us for an instant from him
to whom Anne of Austria owed the extraordinary triumph she had
obtained over the cardinal; and who, confounded, unknown, lost in
the crowd gathered at one of the doors, looked on at this scene,
comprehensible only to four persons--the king, the queen, his
Eminence, and himself.
The queen had just regained her chamber, and D''Artagnan was about
to retire, when he felt his should lightly touched. He turned
and saw a young woman, who made him a sign to follow her. The
face of this young woman was covered with a black velvet mask;
but notwithstanding this precaution, which was in fact taken
rather against others than against him, he at once recognized his
usual guide, the light and intelligent Mme. Bonacieux.
On the evening before, they had scarcely seen each other for a
moment at the apartment of the Swiss guard, Germain, whither
D''Artagnan had sent for her. The haste which the young woman was
in to convey to the queen the excellent news of the happy return
of her messenger prevented the two lovers from exchanging more
than a few words. D''Artagnan therefore followed Mme. Bonacieux
moved by a double sentiment--love and curiosity. All the way,
and in proportion as the corridors became more deserted,
D''Artagnan wished to stop the young woman, seize her and gaze
upon her, were it only for a minute; but quick as a bird she
glided between his hands, and when he wished to speak to her, her
finger placed upon her mouth, with a little imperative gesture
full of grace, reminded him that he was under the command of a
power which he must blindly obey, and which forbade him even to
make the slightest complaint. At length, after winding about for
a minute or two, Mme. Bonacieux opened the door of a closet,
which was entirely dark, and led D''Artagnan into it. There she
made a fresh sign of silence, and opened a second door concealed
by tapestry. The opening of this door disclosed a brilliant
light, and she disappeared.
D''Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where
he could be; but soon a ray of light which penetrated through the
chamber, together with the warm and perfumed air which reached
him from the same aperture, the conversation of two of three
ladies in language at once respectful and refined, and the word
"Majesty" several times repeated, indicated clearly that he was
in a closet attached to the queen''s apartment. The young man
waited in comparative darkness and listened.
The queen appeared cheerful and happy, which seemed to astonish
the persons who surrounded her and who were accustomed to see her
almost always sad and full of care. The queen attributed this
joyous feeling to the beauty of the fete, to the pleasure she had
experienced in the ballet; and as it is not permissible to
contradict a queen, whether she smile or weep, everybody
expatiated on the gallantry of the aldermen of the city of Paris.
Although D''Artagnan did not at all know the queen, he soon
distinguished her voice from the others, at first by a slightly
foreign accent, and next by that tone of domination naturally
impressed upon all royal words. He heard her approach and
withdraw from the partially open door; and twice or three times
he even saw the shadow of a person intercept the light.
At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in their form
and whiteness, glided through the tapestry. D''Artagnan at once
comprehended that this was his recompense. He cast himself on
his knees, seized the hand, and touched it respectfully with his
lips. Then the hand was withdrawn, leaving in his an object
which he perceived to be a ring. The door immediately closed,
and D''Artagnan found himself again in complete obscurity.
D''Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it
was evident that all was not yet over. After the reward of his
devotion, that of his love was to come. Besides, although the
ballet was danced, the evening had scarcely begun. Supper was to
be served at three, and the clock of St. Jean had struck three
quarters past two.
The sound of voices diminished by degrees in the adjoining
chamber. The company was then heard departing; then the door of
the closet in which D''Artagnan was, was opened, and Mme.
Bonacieux entered.
"You at last?" cried D''Artagnan.
"Silence!" said the young woman, placing her hand upon his lips;
"silence, and go the same way you came!"
"But where and when shall I see you again?" cried D''Artagnan.
"A note which you will find at home will tell you. Begone,
begone!"
At these words she opened the door of the corridor, and pushed
D''Artagnan out of the room. D''Artagnan obeyed like a child,
without the least resistance or objection, which proved that he
was really in love.

23 THE RENDEZVOUS
D''Artagnan ran home immediately, and although it was three
o''clock in the morning and he had some of the worst quarters of
Paris to traverse, he met with no misadventure. Everyone knows
that drunkards and lovers have a protecting deity.
He found the door of his passage open, sprang up the stairs and
knocked softly in a manner agreed upon between him and his
lackey. Planchet*, whom he had sent home two hours before from
the Hotel de Ville, telling him to sit up for him, opened the
door for him.
*The reader may ask, "How came Planchet here?" when he was left
"stiff as a rush" in London. In the intervening time Buckingham
perhaps sent him to Paris, as he did the horses.
"Has anyone brought a letter for me?" asked D''Artagnan, eagerly.
"No one has BROUGHT a letter, monsieur," replied Planchet; "but
one has come of itself."
"What do you mean, blockhead?"
"I mean to say that when I came in, although I had the key of
your apartment in my pocket, and that key had never quit me, I
found a letter on the green table cover in your bedroom."
"And where is that letter?"
"I left it where I found it, monsieur. It is not natural for
letters to enter people''s houses in this manner. If the window
had been open or even ajar, I should think nothing of it; but,
no--all was hermetically sealed. Beware, monsieur; there is
certainly some magic underneath."
Meanwhile, the young man had darted in to his chamber, and opened
the letter. It was from Mme. Bonacieux, and was expressed in
these terms:
"There are many thanks to be offered to you, and to be
transmitted to you. Be this evening about ten o''clock at St.
Cloud, in front of the pavilion which stands at the corner of the
house of M. d''Estrees.--C.B."
While reading this letter, D''Artagnan felt his heart dilated and
compressed by that delicious spasm which tortures and caresses
the hearts of lovers.
It was the first billet he had received; it was the first
rendezvous that had been granted him. His heart, swelled by the
intoxication of joy, felt ready to dissolve away at the very gate
of that terrestrial paradise called Love!
"Well, monsieur," said Planchet, who had observed his master grow
read and pale successively, "did I not guess truly? Is it not
some bad affair?"
"You are mistaken, Planchet," replied D''Artagnan; "and as a
proof, there is a crown to drink my health."
"I am much obliged to Monsieur for the crown he had given me, and
I promise him to follow his instructions exactly; but it is not
the less true that letters which come in this way into shut-up
houses--"
"Fall from heaven, my friend, fall from heaven."
"Then Monsieur is satisfied?" asked Planchet.
"My dear Planchet, I an the happiest of men!"
"And I may profit by Monsieur''s happiness, and go to bed?"
"Yes, go."
"May the blessings of heaven fall upon Monsieur! But it is not
the less true that that letter--"
And Planchet retired, shaking his head with an air of doubt,
which the liberality of D''Artagnan had not entirely effaced.
Left alone, D''Artagnan read and reread his billet. Then he
kissed and rekissed twenty times the lines traced by the hand of
his beautiful mistress. At length he went to bed, fell asleep,
and had golden dreams.
At seven o''clock in the morning he arose and called Planchet, who
at the second summons opened the door, his countenance not yet
quite freed from the anxiety of the preceding night.
"Planchet," said D''Artagnan, "I am going out for all day,
perhaps. You are, therefore, your own master till seven o''clock
in the evening; but at seven o''clock you must hold yourself in
readiness with two horses."
"There!" said Planchet. "We are going again, it appears, to have
our hides pierced in all sorts of ways."
"You will take your musketoon and your pistols."
"There, now! Didn''t I say so?" cried Planchet. "I was sure of
it--the cursed letter!"
"Don''t be afraid, you idiot; there is nothing in hand but a party
of pleasure."
"Ah, like the charming journey the other day, when it rained
bullets and produced a crop of steel traps!"
"Well, if you are really afraid, Monsieur Planchet," resumed
D''Artagnan, "I will go without you. I prefer traveling alone to
having a companion who entertains the least fear."
"Monsieur does me wrong," said Planchet; "I thought he had seen
me at work."
"Yes, but I thought perhaps you had worn out all your courage the
first time."
"Monsieur shall see that upon occasion I have some left; only I
beg Monsieur not to be too prodigal of it if he wishes it to last
long."
"Do you believe you have still a certain amount of it to expend
this evening?"
"I hope so, monsieur."
"Well, then, I count on you."
"At the appointed hour I shall be ready; only I believed that
Monsieur had but one horse in the Guard stables."
"Perhaps there is but one at this moment; but by this evening
there will be four."
"It appears that our journey was a remounting journey, then?"
"Exactly so," said D''Artagnan; and nodding to Planchet, he went
out.
M. Bonacieux was at his door. D''Artagnan''s intention was to go
out without speaking to the worthy mercer; but the latter made so
polite and friendly a salutation that his tenant felt obliged,
not only to stop, but to enter into conversation with him.
Besides, how is it possible to avoid a little condescension
toward a husband whose pretty wife has appointed a meeting with
you that same evening at St. Cloud, opposite D''Estrees''s
pavilion? D''Artagnan approached him with the most amiable air he
could assume.
The conversation naturally fell upon the incarceration of the
poor man. M. Bonacieux, who was ignorant that D''Artagnan had
overheard his conversation with the stranger of Meung, related to
his young tenant the persecutions of that monster, M. de
Laffemas, whom he never ceased to designate, during his account,
by the title of the "cardinal''s executioner," and expatiated at
great length upon the Bastille, the bolts, the wickets, the
dungeons, the gratings, the instruments of torture.
D''Artagnan listened to him with exemplary complaisance, and when
he had finished said, "And Madame Bonacieux, do you know who
carried her off?--For I do not forget that I owe to that
unpleasant circumstance the good fortune of having made your
acquaintance."
"Ah!" said Bonacieux, "they took good care not to tell me that;
and my wife, on her part, has sworn to me by all that''s sacred
that she does not know. But you," continued M. Bonacieux, in a
tine of perfect good fellowship, "what has become of you all
these days? I have not seen you nor your friends, and I don''t
think you could gather all that dust that I saw Planchet brush
off your boots yesterday from the pavement of Paris."
"You are right, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, my friends and I have
been on a little journey."
"Far from here?"
"Oh, Lord, no! About forty leagues only. We went to take
Monsieur Athos to the waters of Forges, where my friends still
remain."
"And you have returned, have you not?" replied M. Bonacieux,
giving to his countenance a most sly air. "A handsome young
fellow like you does not obtain long leaves of absence from his
mistress; and we were impatiently waited for at Paris, were we
not?"
"My faith!" said the young man, laughing, "I confess it, and so
much more the readily, my dear Bonacieux, as I see there is no
concealing anything from you. Yes, I was expected, and very
impatiently, I acknowledge."
A slight shade passed over the brow of Bonacieux, but so slight
that D''Artagnan did not perceive it.
"And we are going to be recompensed for our diligence?" continued
the mercer, with a trifling alteration in his voice--so trifling,
indeed, that D''Artagnan did not perceive it any more than he had
the momentary shade which, an instant before, had darkened the
countenance of the worthy man.
"Ah, may you be a true prophet!" said D''Artagnan, laughing.
"No; what I say," replied Bonacieux, "is only that I may know
whether I am delaying you."
"Why that question, my dear host?" asked D''Artagnan. "Do you
intend to sit up for me?"
"No; but since my arrest and the robbery that was committed in my
house, I am alarmed every time I hear a door open, particularly
in the night. What the deuce can you expect? I am no
swordsman."
"Well, don''t be alarmed if I return at one, two or three o''clock
in the morning; indeed, do not be alarmed if I do not come at
all."
This time Bonacieux became so pale that D''Artagnan could not help
perceiving it, and asked him what was the matter.
"Nothing," replied Bonacieux, "nothing. Since my misfortunes I
have been subject to faintnesses, which seize me all at once, and
I have just felt a cold shiver. Pay no attention to it; you have
nothing to occupy yourself with but being happy."
"Then I have full occupation, for I am so."
"Not yet; wait a little! This evening, you said."
"Well, this evening will come, thank God! And perhaps you look
for it with as much impatience as I do; perhaps this evening
Madame Bonacieux will visit the conjugal domicile."
"Madame Bonacieux is not at liberty this evening," replied the
husband, seriously; "she is detained at the Louvre this evening
by her duties."
"So much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse!
When I am happy, I wish all the world to be so; but it appears
that is not possible."
The young man departed, laughing at the joke, which he thought he
alone could comprehend.
"Amuse yourself well!" replied Bonacieux, in a sepulchral tone.
But D''Artagnan was too far off to hear him; and if he had heard
him in the disposition of mind he then enjoyed, he certainly
would not have remarked it.
He took his way toward the hotel of M. de Treville; his visit of
the day before, it is to be remembered, had been very short and
very little explicative.
He found Treville in a joyful mood. He had thought the king and
queen charming at the ball. It is true the cardinal had been
particularly ill-tempered. He had retired at one o''clock under
the pretense of being indisposed. As to their Majesties, they
did not return to the Louvre till six o''clock in the morning.
"Now," said Treville, lowering his voice, and looking into every
corner of the apartment to see if they were alone, "now let us
talk about yourself, my young friend; for it is evident that your
happy return has something to do with the joy of the king, the
triumph of the queen, and the humiliation of his Eminence. You
must look out for yourself."
"What have I to fear," replied D''Artagnan, "as long as I shall
have the luck to enjoy the favor of their Majesties?"
"Everything, believe me. The cardinal is not the man to forget a
mystification until he has settled account with the mystifier;
and the mystifier appears to me to have the air of being a
certain young Gascon of my acquaintance."
"Do you believe that the cardinal is as well posted as yourself,
and knows that I have been to London?"
"The devil! You have been to London! Was it from London you
brought that beautiful diamond that glitters on your finger?
Beware, my dear D''Artagnan! A present from an enemy is not a
good thing. Are there not some Latin verses upon that subject?
Stop!"
"Yes, doubtless," replied D''Artagnan, who had never been able to
cram the first rudiments of that language into his head, and who
had by his ignorance driven his master to despair, "yes,
doubtless there is one."
"There certainly is one," said M. de Treville, who had a tincture
of literature, "and Monsieur de Benserade was quoting it to me
the other day. Stop a minute--ah, this is it: ''Timeo Danaos et
dona ferentes,'' which means, ''Beware of the enemy who makes you
presents."
"This diamond does not come from an enemy, monsieur," replied
D''Artagnan, "it comes from the queen."
"From the queen! Oh, oh!" said M. de Treville. "Why, it is
indeed a true royal jewel, which is worth a thousand pistoles if
it is worth a denier. By whom did the queen send you this
jewel?"
"She gave it to me herself."
"Where?"
"In the room adjoining the chamber in which she changed her
toilet."
"How?"
"Giving me her hand to kiss."
"You have kissed the queen''s hand?" said M. de Treville, looking
earnestly at D''Artagnan.
"Her Majesty did me the honor to grant me that favor."
"And that in the presence of witnesses! Imprudent, thrice
imprudent!"
"No, monsieur, be satisfied; nobody saw her," replied D''Artagnan,
and he related to M. de Treville how the affair came to pass.
"Oh, the women, the women!" cried the old soldier. "I know them
by their romantic imagination. Everything that savors of mystery
charms them. So you have seen the arm, that was all. You would
meet the queen, and she would not know who you are?"
"No; but thanks to this diamond," replied the young man.
"Listen," said M. de Treville; "shall I give you counsel, good
counsel, the counsel of a friend?"
"You will do me honor, monsieur," said D''Artagnan.
"Well, then, off to the nearest goldsmith''s, and sell that
diamond for the highest price you can get from him. However much
of a Jew he may be, he will give you at least eight hundred
pistoles. Pistoles have no name, young man, and that ring has a
terrible one, which may betray him who wears it."
"Sell this ring, a ring which comes from my sovereign? Never!"
said D''Artagnan.
"Then, at least turn the gem inside, you silly fellow; for
everybody must be aware that a cadet from Gascony does not find
such stones in his mother''s jewel case."
"You think, then, I have something to dread?" asked D''Artagnan.
"I mean to say, young man, that he who sleeps over a mine the
match of which is already lighted, may consider himself in safety
in comparison with you."
"The devil!" said D''Artagnan, whom the positive tone of M. de
Treville began to disquiet, "the devil! What must I do?"
"Above all things be always on your guard. The cardinal has a
tenacious memory and a long arm; you may depend upon it, he will
repay you by some ill turn."
"But of what sort?"
"Eh! How can I tell? Has he not all the tricks of a demon at
his command? The least that can be expected is that you will be
arrested."
"What! Will they dare to arrest a man in his Majesty''s service?"
"PARDIEU! They did not scruple much in the case of Athos. At
all events, young man, rely upon one who has been thirty years at
court. Do not lull yourself in security, or you will be lost;
but, on the contrary--and it is I who say it--see enemies in all
directions. If anyone seeks a quarrel with you, shun it, were it
with a child of ten years old. If you are attacked by day or by
night, fight, but retreat, without shame; if you cross a bridge,
feel every plank of it with your foot, lest one should give way
beneath you; if you pass before a house which is being built,
look up, for fear a stone should fall upon your head; if you stay
out late, be always followed by your lackey, and let your lackey
be armed--if, by the by, you can be sure of your lackey.
Mistrust everybody, your friend, your brother, your mistress--
your mistress above all."
D''Artagnan blushed.
"My mistress above all," repeated he, mechanically; "and why her
rather than another?"
"Because a mistress is one of the cardinal''s favorite means; he
has not one that is more expe***ious. A woman will sell you for
ten pistoles, witness Delilah. You are acquainted with the
Scriptures?"
D''Artagnan thought of the appointment Mme. Bonacieux had made
with him for that very evening; but we are bound to say, to the
cre*** of our hero, that the bad opinion entertained by M. de
Treville of women in general, did not inspire him with the least
suspicion of his pretty hostess.
"But, A PROPOS," resumed M. de Treville, "what has become of your
three companions?"
"I was about to ask you if you had heard any news of them?"
"None, monsieur."
"Well, I left them on my road--Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel
on his hands; Aramis at Crevecoeur, with a ball in his shoulder;
and Athos at Amiens, detained by an accusation of coining."
"See there, now!" said M. de Treville; "and how the devil did you
escape?"
"By a miracle, monsieur, I must acknowledge, with a sword thrust
in my breast, and by nailing the Comte de Wardes on the byroad to
Calais, like a butterfly on a tapestry."
"There again! De Wardes, one of the cardinal''s men, a cousin of
Rochefort! Stop, my friend, I have an idea."
"Speak, monsieur."
"In your place, I would do one thing."
"What?"
"While his Eminence was seeking for me in Paris, I would take,
without sound of drum or trumpet, the road to Picardy, and would
go and make some inquiries concerning my three companions. What
the devil! They merit richly that piece of attention on your
part."
"The advice is good, monsieur, and tomorrow I will set out."
"Tomorrow! Any why not this evening?"
"This evening, monsieur, I am detained in Paris by indispensable
business."
"Ah, young man, young man, some flirtation or other. Take care,
I repeat to you, take care. It is woman who has ruined us, still
ruins us, and will ruin us, as long as the world stands. Take my
advice and set out this evening."
"Impossible, monsieur."
"You have given your word, then?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Ah, that''s quite another thing; but promise me, if you should
not be killed tonight, that you will go tomorrow."
"I promise it."
"Do you need money?"
"I have still fifty pistoles. That, I think, is as much as I
shall want."
"But your companions?"
"I don''t think they can be in need of any. We left Paris, each
with seventy-five pistoles in his pocket."
"Shall I see you again before your departure?"
"I think not, monsieur, unless something new should happen."
"Well, a pleasant journey."
"Thanks, monsieur."
D''Artagnan left M. de Treville, touched more than ever by his
paternal solicitude for his Musketeers.
He called successively at the abodes of Athos, Porthos, and
Aramis. Neither of them had returned. Their lackeys likewise
were absent, and nothing had been heard of either the one or the
other. He would have inquired after them of their mistresses,
but he was neither acquainted with Porthos''s nor Aramis''s, and as
to Athos, he had none.
As he passed the Hotel des Gardes, he took a glance in to the
stables. Three of the four horses had already arrived.
Planchet, all astonishment, was busy grooming them, and had
already finished two.
"Ah, monsieur," said Planchet, on perceiving D''Artagnan, "how
glad I am to see you."
"Why so, Planchet?" asked the young man.
"Do you place confidence in our landlord--Monsieur Bonacieux?"
"I? Not the least in the world."
"Oh, you do quite right, monsieur."
"But why this question?"
"Because, while you were talking with him, I watched you without
listening to you; and, monsieur, his countenance changed color
two or three times!"
"Bah!"
"Preoccupied as Monsieur was with the letter he had received, he
did not observe that; but I, whom the strange fashion in which
that letter came into the house had placed on my guard--I did not
lose a movement of his features."
"And you found it?"
"Traitorous, monsieur."
"Indeed!"
"Still more; as soon as Monsieur had left and disappeared round
the corner of the street, Monsieur Bonacieux took his hat, shut
his door, and set off at a quick pace in an opposite direction."
"It seems you are right, Planchet; all this appears to be a
little mysterious; and be assured that we will not pay him our
rent until the matter shall be categorically explained to us."
"Monsieur jests, but Monsieur will see."
"What would you have, Planchet? What must come is written."
"Monsieur does not then renounce his excursion for this evening?"
"Quite the contrary, Planchet; the more ill will I have toward
Monsieur Bonacieux, the more punctual I shall be in keeping the
appointment made by that letter which makes you so uneasy."
"Then that is Monsieur''s determination?"
"Undeniably, my friend. At nine o''clock, then, be ready here at
the hotel, I will come and take you."
Planchet seeing there was no longer any hope of making his master
renounce his project, heaved a profound sigh and set to work to
groom the third horse.
As to D''Artagnan, being at bottom a prudent youth, instead of
returning him he went and dined with the Gascon priest, who, at
the time of the distress of the four friends, had given them a
breakfast of chocolate.

24 THE PAVILION
At nine o''clock D''Artagnan was at the Hotel des Gardes; he found
Planchet all ready. The fourth horse had arrived.
Planchet was armed with his musketoon and a pistol. D''Artagnan
had his sword and placed two pistols in his belt; then both
mounted and departed quietly. It was quite dark, and no one saw
them go out. Planchet took place behind his master, and kept at
a distance of ten paces from him.
D''Artagnan crossed the quays, went out by the gate of La
Conference and followed the road, much more beautiful then than
it is now, which leads to St. Cloud.
As long as he was in the city, Planchet kept at the respectful
distance he had imposed upon himself; but as soon as the road
began to be more lonely and dark, he drew softly nearer, so that
when they entered the Bois de Boulogne he found himself riding
quite naturally side by side with his master. In fact, we must
not dissemble that the oscillation of the tall trees and the
reflection of the moon in the dark underwood gave him serious
uneasiness. D''Artagnan could not help perceiving that something
more than usual was passing in the mind of his lackey and said,
"Well, Monsieur Planchet, what is the matter with us now?"
"Don''t you think, monsieur, that woods are like churches?"
"How so, Planchet?"
"Because we dare not speak aloud in one or the other."
"But why did you not dare to speak aloud, Planchet--because you
are afraid?"
"Afraid of being heard? Yes, monsieur."
"Afraid of being heard! Why, there is nothing improper in our
conversation, my dear Planchet, and no one could find fault with
it."
"Ah, monsieur!" replied Planchet, recurring to his besetting
idea, "that Monsieur Bonacieux has something vicious in his
eyebrows, and something very unpleasant in the play of his lips."
"What the devil makes you think of Bonacieux?"
"Monsieur, we think of what we can, and not of what we will."
"Because you are a coward, Planchet."
"Monsieur, we must not confound prudence with cowardice; prudence
is a virtue."
"And you are very virtuous, are you not, Planchet?"
"Monsieur, is not that the barrel of a musket which glitters
yonder? Had we not better lower our heads?"
"In truth," murmured D''Artagnan, to whom M. de Treville''s
recommendation recurred, "this animal will end by making me
afraid." And he put his horse into a trot.
Planchet followed the movements of his master as if he had been
his shadow, and was soon trotting by his side.
"Are we going to continue this pace all night?" asked Planchet.
"No; you are at your journey''s end."
"How, monsieur! And you?"
"I am going a few steps farther."
"And Monsieur leaves me here alone?"
"You are afraid, Planchet?"
"No; I only beg leave to observe to Monsieur that the night will
be very cold, that chills bring on rheumatism, and that a lackey
who has the rheumatism makes but a poor servant, particularly to
a master as active as Monsieur."
"Well, if you are cold, Planchet, you can go into one of those
cabarets that you see yonder, and be in waiting for me at the
door by six o''clock in the morning."
"Monsieur, I have eaten and drunk respectfully the crown you gave
me this morning, so that I have not a sou left in case I should
be cold."
"Here''s half a pistole. Tomorrow morning."
D''Artagnan sprang from his horse, threw the bridle to Planchet,
and departed at a quick pace, folding his cloak around him.
"Good Lord, how cold I am!" cried Planchet, as soon as he had
lost sight of his master; and in such haste was he to warm
himself that he went straight to a house set out with all the
attributes of a suburban tavern, and knocked at the door.
In the meantime D''Artagnan, who had plunged into a bypath,
continued his route and reached St. Cloud; but instead of
following the main street he turned behind the chateau, reached a
sort of retired lane, and found himself soon in front of the
pavilion named. It was situated in a very private spot. A high
wall, at the angle of which was the pavilion, ran along one side
of this lane, and on the other was a little garden connected with
a poor cottage which was protected by a hedge from passers-by.
He gained the place appointed, and as no signal had been given
him by which to announce his presence, he waited.
Not the least noise was to be heard; it might be imagined that he
was a hundred miles from the capital. D''Artagnan leaned against
the hedge, after having cast a glance behind it. Beyond that
hedge, that garden, and that cottage, a dark mist enveloped with
its folds that immensity where Paris slept--a vast void from
which glittered a few luminous points, the funeral stars of that
hell!
But for D''Artagnan all aspects were clothed happily, all ideas
wore a smile, all shades were diaphanous. The appointed hour was
about to strike. In fact, at the end of a few minutes the belfry
of St. Cloud let fall slowly then strokes from its sonorous jaws.
There was something melancholy in this brazen voice pouring out
its lamentations in the middle of the night; but each of those
strokes, which made up the expected hour, vibrated harmoniously
to the heart of the young man.
His eyes were fixed upon the little pavilion situated at the
angle of the wall, of which all the windows were closed with
shutters, except one on the first story. Through this window
shone a mild light which silvered the foliage of two or three
linden trees which formed a group outside the park. There could
be no doubt that behind this little window, which threw forth
such friendly beams, the pretty Mme. Bonacieux expected him.
Wrapped in this sweet idea, D''Artagnan waited half an hour
without the least impatience, his eyes fixed upon that charming
little abode of which he could perceive a part of the ceiling
with its gilded moldings, attesting the elegance of the rest of
the apartment.
The belfry of St. Cloud sounded half past ten.
This time, without knowing why, D''Artagnan felt a cold shiver run
through his veins. Perhaps the cold began to affect him, and he
took a perfectly physical sensation for a moral impression.
Then the idea seized him that he had read incorrectly, and that
the appointment was for eleven o''clock. He drew near to the
window, and placing himself so that a ray of light should fall
upon the letter as he held it, he drew it from his pocket and
read it again; but he had not been mistaken, the appointment was
for ten o''clock. He went and resumed his post, beginning to be
rather uneasy at this silence and this solitude.
Eleven o''clock sounded.
D''Artagnan began now really to fear that something had happened
to Mme. Bonacieux. He clapped his hands three times--the
ordinary signal of lovers; but nobody replied to him, not even an
echo.
He then thought, with a touch of vexation, that perhaps the young
woman had fallen asleep while waiting for him. He approached the
wall, and tried to climb it; but the wall had been recently
pointed, and D''Artagnan could get no hold.
At that moment he thought of the trees, upon whose leaves the
light still shone; and as one of them drooped over the road, he
thought that from its branches he might get a glimpse of the
interior of the pavilion.
The tree was easy to climb. Besides, D''Artagnan was but twenty
years old, and consequently had not yet forgotten his schoolboy
habits. In an instant he was among the branches, and his keen
eyes plunged through the transparent panes into the interior of
the pavilion.
It was a strange thing, and one which made D''Artagnan tremble
from the sole of his foot to the roots of his hair, to find that
this soft light, this calm lamp, enlightened a scene of fearful
disorder. One of the windows was broken, the door of the chamber
had been beaten in and hung, split in two, on its hinges. A
table, which had been covered with an elegant supper, was
overturned. The decanters broken in pieces, and the fruits
crushed, strewed the floor. Everything in the apartment gave
evidence of a violent and desperate struggle. D''Artagnan even
fancied he could recognize amid this strange disorder, fragments
of garments, and some bloody spots staining the cloth and the
curtains. He hastened to descend into the street, with a
frightful beating at his heart; he wished to see if he could find
other traces of violence.
The little soft light shone on in the calmness of the night.
D''Artagnan then perceived a thing that he had not before
remarked--for nothing had led him to the examination--that the
ground, trampled here and hoofmarked there, presented confused
traces of men and horses. Besides, the wheels of a carriage,
which appeared to have come from Paris, had made a deep
impression in the soft earth, which did not extend beyond the
pavilion, but turned again toward Paris.
At length D''Artagnan, in pursuing his researches, found near the
wall a woman''s torn glove. This glove, wherever it had not
touched the muddy ground, was of irreproachable odor. It was one
of those perfumed gloves that lovers like to snatch from a pretty
hand.
As D''Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant and
more icy sweat rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heart
was oppressed by a horrible anguish; his respiration was broken
and short. And yet he said, to reassure himself, that this
pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; that
the young woman had made an appointment with him before the
pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have been
detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy of
her husband.
But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by
that feeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes
possession of our being, and cries to us so as to be understood
unmistakably that some great misfortune is hanging over us.
Then D''Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road,
took the path he had before taken, and reaching the ferry,
interrogated the boatman.
About seven o''clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a
young woman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very
anxious not to be recognized; but entirely on account of her
precautions, the boatman had paid more attention to her and
discovered that she was young and pretty.
There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who
came to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and
yet D''Artagnan did not for an instant doubt that it was Mme.
Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed.
D''Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin
of the ferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again,
and satisfy himself that he had not been mistaken, that the
appointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, before the
D''Estrees''s pavilion and not in another street. Everything
conspired to prove to D''Artagnan that his presentiments had not
deceived him, and that a great misfortune had happened.
He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him that
something might have happened at the pavilion in his absence, and
that fresh information awaited him. The lane was still deserted,
and the same calm soft light shone through the window.
D''Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure,
which had no doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate
of the enclosure was shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and in
spite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up to the cabin.
No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death
reigned in the cabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his
last resource, he knocked again.
It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within--a
timid noise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard.
Then D''Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so
full of anxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice
was of a nature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old,
worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closed
again as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which burned in
the corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol
pommels of D''Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had
been, D''Artagnan had had time to get a glimpse of the head of an
old man.
"In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have been
waiting for someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety.
Has anything particular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!"
The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared,
only it was now still more pale than before.
D''Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names.
He told how he had a rendezvous with a young woman before that
pavilion, and how, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden
tree, and by the light of the lamp had seen the disorder of the
chamber.
The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it was
all so; and then, when D''Artagnan had ended, he shook his head
with an air that announced nothing good.
"What do you mean?" cried D''Artagnan. "In the name of heaven,
explain yourself!"
"Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if I
dared tell you what I have seen, certainly no good would befall
me."
"You have, then, seen something?" replied D''Artagnan. "In that
case, in the name of heaven," continued he, throwing him a
pistole, "tell me what you have seen, and I will pledge you the
word of a gentleman that not one of your words shall escape from
my heart."
The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of
the young man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in
a low voice: "It was scarcely nine o''clock when I heard a noise
in the street, and was wondering what it could be, when on coming
to my door, I found that somebody was endeavoring to open it. As
I am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I went and
opened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In the
shadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses.
These horses evidently belonged to the three men, who wee dressed
as cavaliers. ''Ah, my worthy gentlemen,'' cried I, ''what do you
want?'' ''You must have a ladder?'' said he who appeared to be the
leader of the party. ''Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gather
my fruit.'' ''Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there
is a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember
this--if you speak a word of what you may see or what you may
hear (for you will look and you will listen, I am quite sure,
however we may threaten you), you are lost.'' At these words he
threw me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the ladder.
After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to the
house, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing along
in the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, from
which I could hear and see everything. The three men brought the
carriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout,
short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color,
who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at
the window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone
up, and whispered, ''It is she!'' Immediately, he who had spoken
to me approached the door of the pavilion, opened it with a key
he had in his hand, closed the door and disappeared, while at the
same time the other two men ascended the ladder. The little old
man remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of his
horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once great
cried resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window,
and opened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon as
she perceived the other two men, she fell back and they went into
the chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise of
breaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but
her cries were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearing
the woman in their arms, and carried her to the carriage, into
which the little old man got after her. The leader closed the
window, came out an instant after by the door, and satisfied
himself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companions
were already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackey
took his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quick
pace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. From
that moment I have neither seen nor heard anything."
D''Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remained
motionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy
were howling in his heart.
"But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom this
mute despair certainly produced a greater effect than cries and
tears would have done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her,
and that''s a comfort."
"Can you guess," said D''Artagnan, "who was the man who headed
this infernal expe***ion?"
"I don''t know him."
"But as you spoke to him you must have seen him."
"Oh, it''s a description you want?"
"Exactly so."
"A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the air
of a gentleman."
"That''s the man!" cried D''Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He is
my demon, apparently. And the other?"
"Which?"
"The short one."
"Oh, he was not a gentleman, I''ll answer for it; besides, he did
not wear a sword, and the others treated him with small
consideration."
"Some lackey," murmured D''Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman,
what have they done with you?"
"You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the old
man.
"And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman
has but his word, and I have given you mine."
With a heavy heart, D''Artagnan again bent his way toward the
ferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and
that he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he
feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealous
fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by
doubt, grief, and despair.
"Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have,
at least, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what has
become of them?"
It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet.
D''Artagnan went successively into all the cabarets in which there
was a light, but could not find Planchet in any of them.
At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was rather
dubious. D''Artagnan had appointed six o''clock in the morning for
his lackey, and wherever he might be, he was right.
Besides, it came into the young man''s mind that by remaining in
the environs of the spot on which this sad event had passed, he
would, perhaps, have some light thrown upon the mysterious
affair. At the sixth cabaret, then, as we said, D''Artagnan
stopped, asked for a bottle of wine of the best quality, and
placing himself in the darkest corner of the room, determined
thus to wait till daylight; but this time again his hopes were
disappointed, and although he listened with all his ears, he
heard nothing, amid the oaths, coarse jokes, and abuse which
passed between the laborers, servants, and carters who comprised
the honorable society of which he formed a part, which could put
him upon the least track of her who had been stolen from him. He
was compelled, them, after having swallowed the contents of his
bottle, to pass the time as well as to evade suspicion, to fall
into the easiest position in his corner and to sleep, whether
well or ill. D''Artagnan, be it remembered, was only twenty years
old, and at that age sleep has its imprescriptible rights which
it imperiously insists upon, even with the saddest hearts.
Toward six o''clock D''Artagnan awoke with that uncomfortable
feeling which generally accompanies the break of day after a bad
night. He was not long in making his toilet. He examined
himself to see if advantage had been taken of his sleep, and
having found his diamond ring on his finger, his purse in his
pocket, and his pistols in his belt, he rose, paid for his
bottle, and went out to try if he could have any better luck in
his search after his lackey than he had had the night before.
The first thing he perceived through the damp gray mist was
honest Planchet, who, with the two horses in hand, awaited him at
the door of a little blind cabaret, before which D''Artagnan had
passed without even a suspicion of its existence.

25 PORTHOS
Instead of returning directly home, D''Artagnan alighted at the
door of M. de Treville, and ran quickly up the stairs. This time
he had decided to relate all that had passed. M. de Treville
would doubtless give him good advice as to the whole affair.
Besides, as M. de Treville saw the queen almost daily, he might
be able to draw from her Majesty some intelligence of the poor
young woman, whom they were doubtless making pay very dearly for
her devotedness to her mistress.
M. de Treville listened to the young man''s account with a
seriousness which proved that he saw something else in this
adventure besides a love affair. When D''Artagnan had finished,
he said, "Hum! All this savors of his Eminence, a league off."
"But what is to be done?" said D''Artagnan.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing, at present, but quitting at Paris,
as I told you, as soon as possible. I will see the queen; I will
relate to her the details of the disappearance of this poor
woman, of which she is no doubt ignorant. These details will
guide her on her part, and on your return, I shall perhaps have
some good news to tell you. Rely on me."
D''Artagnan knew that, although a Gascon, M. de Treville was not
in the habit of making promises, and that when by chance he did
promise, he more than kept his word. He bowed to him, then, full
of gratitude for the past and for the future; and the worthy
captain, who on his side felt a lively interest in this young
man, so brave and so resolute, pressed his hand kindly, wishing
him a pleasant journey.
Determined to put the advice of M. de Treville in practice
instantly, D''Artagnan directed his course toward the Rue des
Fossoyeurs, in order *****perintend the packing of his valise.
On approaching the house, he perceived M. Bonacieux in morning
costume, standing at his threshold. All that the prudent
Planchet had said to him the preceding evening about the sinister
character of the old man recurred to the mind of D''Artagnan, who
looked at him with more attention than he had done before. In
fact, in ad***ion to that yellow, sickly paleness which indicates
the insinuation of the bile in the blood, and which might,
besides, be accidental, D''Artagnan remarked something
perfidiously significant in the play of the wrinkled features of
his countenance. A rogue does not laugh in the same way that an
honest man does; a hypocrite does not shed the tears of a man of
good faith. All falsehood is a mask; and however well made the
mask may be, with a little attention we may always succeed in
distinguishing it from the true face.
It appeared, then, to D''Artagnan that M. Bonacieux wore a mask,
and likewise that that mask was most disagreeable to look upon.
In consequence of this feeling of repugnance, he was about to
pass without speaking to him, but, as he had done the day before,
M. Bonacieux accosted him.
"Well, young man," said he, "we appear to pass rather gay nights!
Seven o''clock in the morning! PESTE! You seem to reverse
ordinary customs, and come home at the hour when other people are
going out."
"No one can reproach you for anything of the kind, Monsieur
Bonacieux," said the young man; "you are a model for regular
people. It is true that when a man possesses a young and pretty
wife, he has no need to seek happiness elsewhere. Happiness
comes to meet him, does it not, Monsieur Bonacieux?"
Bonacieux became as pale as death, and grinned a ghastly smile.
"Ah, ah!" said Bonacieux, "you are a jocular companion! But
where the devil were you gladding last night, my young master?
It does not appear to be very clean in the crossroads."
D''Artagnan glanced down at his boots, all covered with mud; but
that same glance fell upon the shoes and stockings of the mercer,
and it might have been said they had been dipped in the same mud
heap. Both were stained with splashes of mud of the same
appearance.
Then a sudden idea crossed the mind of D''Artagnan. That little
stout man, short and elderly, that sort of lackey, dressed in
dark clothes, treated without ceremony by the men wearing swords
who composed the escort, was Bonacieux himself. The husband had
presided at the abduction of his wife.
A terrible inclination seized D''Artagnan to grasp the mercer by
the throat and strangle him; but, as we have said, he was a very
prudent youth, and he restrained himself. However, the
revolution which appeared upon his countenance was so visible
that Bonacieux was terrified at it, and he endeavored to draw
back a step or two; but as he was standing before the half of the
door which was shut, the obstacle compelled him to keep his
place.
"Ah, but you are joking, my worthy man!" said D''Artagnan. It
appears to me that if my boots need a sponge, your stockings and
shoes stand in equal need of a brush. May you not have been
philandering a little also, Monsieur Bonacieux? Oh, the devil!
That''s unpardonable in a man of your age, and who besides, has
such a pretty wife as yours."
"Oh, Lord! no," said Bonacieux, "but yesterday I went to St.
Mande to make some inquiries after a servant, as I cannot
possibly do without one; and the roads were so bad that I brought
back all this mud, which I have not yet had time to remove."
The place named by Bonacieux as that which had been the object of
his journey was a fresh proof in support of the suspicions
D''Artagnan had conceived. Bonacieux had named Mande because
Mande was in an exactly opposite direction from St. Cloud. This
probability afforded him his first consolation. If Bonacieux
knew where his wife was, one might, by extreme means, force the
mercer to open his teeth and let his secret escape. The
question, then, was how to change this probability into a
certainty.
"Pardon, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, if I don''t stand upon
ceremony," said D''Artagnan, "but nothing makes one so thirsty as
want of sleep. I am parched with thirst. Allow me to take a
glass of water in your apartment; you know that is never refused
among neighbors."
Without waiting for the permission of his host, D''Artagnan went
quickly into the house, and cast a rapid glance at the bed. It
had not been used. Bonacieux had not been abed. He had only
been back an hour or two; he had accompanied his wife to the
place of her confinement, or else at least to the first relay.
"Thanks, Monsieur Bonacieux," said D''Artagnan, emptying his
glass, "that is all I wanted of you. I will now go up into my
apartment. I will make Planchet brush my boots; and when he has
done, I will, if you like, send him to you to brush your shoes."
He left the mercer quite astonished at his singular farewell, and
asking himself if he had not been a little inconsiderate.
At the top of the stairs he found Planchet in a great fright.
"Ah, monsieur!" cried Planchet, as soon as he perceived his
master, "here is more trouble. I thought you would never come
in."
"What''s the matter now, Planchet?" demanded D''Artagnan.
"Oh! I give you a hundred, I give you a thousand times to guess,
monsieur, the visit I received in your absence."
"When?"
"About half an hour ago, while you were at Monsieur de
Treville''s."
"Who has been here? Come, speak."
"Monsieur de Cavois."
"Monsieur de Cavois?"
"In person."
"The captain of the cardinal''s Guards?"
"Himself."
"Did he come to arrest me?"
"I have no doubt that he did, monsieur, for all his wheedling
manner."
"Was he so sweet, then?"
"Indeed, he was all honey, monsieur."
"Indeed!"
"He came, he said, on the part of his Eminence, who wished you
well, and to beg you to follow him to the Palais-Royal."*
*It was called the Palais-Cardinal before Richelieu gave it to
the King.
"What did you answer him?"
"That the thing was impossible, seeing that you were not at home,
as he could see."
"Well, what did he say then?"
"That you must not fail to call upon him in the course of the
day; and then he added in a low voice, ''Tell your master that his
Eminence is very well disposed toward him, and that his fortune
perhaps depends upon this interview.''"
"The snare is rather MALADROIT for the cardinal," replied the
young man, smiling.
"Oh, I saw the snare, and I answered you would be quite in
despair on your return.
"''Where has he gone?'' asked Monsieur de Cavois.
"''To Troyes, in Champagne,'' I answered.
"''And when did he set out?''
"''Yesterday evening.''"
"Planchet, my friend," interrupted D''Artagnan, "you are really a
precious fellow."
"You will understand, monsieur, I thought there would be still
time, if you wish, to see Monsieur de Cavois to contradict me by
saying you were not yet gone. The falsehood would then lie at my
door, and as I am not a gentleman, I may be allowed to lie."
"Be of good heart, Planchet, you shall preserve your reputation
as a veracious man. In a quarter of an hour we set off."
"That''s the advice I was about to give Monsieur; and where are we
going, may I ask, without being too curious?"
"PARDIEU! In the opposite direction to that which you said I was
gone. Besides, are you not as anxious to learn news of Grimaud,
Mousqueton, and Bazin as I am to know what has become of Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis?"
"Yes, monsieur," said Planchet, "and I will go as soon as you
please. Indeed, I think provincial air will suit us much better
just now than the air of Paris. So then--"
"So then, pack up our luggage, Planchet, and let us be off. On
my part, I will go out with my hands in my pockets, that nothing
may be suspected. You may join me at the Hotel des Gardes. By
the way, Planchet, I think you are right with respect to our
host, and that he is decidedly a frightfully low wretch."
"Ah, monsieur, you may take my word when I tell you anything. I
am a physiognomist, I assure you."
D''Artagnan went out first, as had been agreed upon. Then, in
order that he might have nothing to reproach himself with, he
directed his steps, for the last time, toward the residences of
his three friends. No news had been received of them; only a
letter, all perfumed and of an elegant writing in small
characters, had come for Aramis. D''Artagnan took charge of it.
Ten minutes afterward Planchet joined him at the stables of the
Hotel des Gardes. D''Artagnan, in order that there might be no
time lost, had saddled his horse himself.
"That''s well," said he to Planchet, when the latter added the
portmanteau to the equipment. "Now saddle the other three
horses."
"Do you think, then, monsieur, that we shall travel faster with
two horses apiece?" said Planchet, with his shrewd air.
"No, Monsieur Jester," replied D''Artagnan; "but with our four
horses we may bring back our three friends, if we should have the
good fortune to find them living."
"Which is a great chance," replied Planchet, "but we must not
despair of the mercy of God."
"Amen!" said D''Artagnan, getting into his saddle.
As they went from the Hotel des Gardes, they separated, leaving
the street at opposite ends, one having to quit Paris by the
Barriere de la Villette and the other by the Barriere Montmartre,
to meet again beyond St. Denis--a strategic maneuver which,
having been executed with equal punctuality, was crowned with the
most fortunate results. D''Artagnan and Planchet entered
Pierrefitte together.
Planchet was more courageous, it must be admitted, by day than by
night. His natural prudence, however, never forsook him for a
single instant. He had forgotten not one of the incidents of the
first journey, and he looked upon everybody he met on the road as
an enemy. It followed that his hat was forever in his hand,
which procured him some severe reprimands from D''Artagnan, who
feared that his excess of politeness would lead people to think
he was the lackey of a man of no consequence.
Nevertheless, whether the passengers were really touched by the
urbanity of Planchet or whether this time nobody was posted on
the young man''s road, our two travelers arrived at Chantilly
without any accident, and alighted at the tavern of Great St.
Martin, the same at which they had stopped on their first
journey.
The host, on seeing a young man followed by a lackey with two
extra horses, advanced respectfully to the door. Now, as they
had already traveled eleven leagues, D''Artagnan thought it time
to stop, whether Porthos were or were not in the inn. Perhaps it
would not be prudent to ask at once what had become of the
Musketeer. The result of these reflections was that D''Artagnan,
without asking information of any kind, alighted, commended the
horses to the care of his lackey, entered a small room destined
to receive those who wished to be alone, and desired the host to
bring him a bottle of his best wine and as good a breakfast as
possible--a desire which further corroborated the high opinion
the innkeeper had formed of the traveler at first sight.
D''Artagnan was therefore served with miraculous celerity. The
regiment of the Guards was recruited among the first gentlemen of
the kingdom; and D''Artagnan, followed by a lackey, and traveling
with four magnificent horses, despite the simplicity of his
uniform, could not fail to make a sensation. The host desired
himself to serve him; which D''Artagnan perceiving, ordered two
glasses to be brought, and commenced the following conversation.
"My faith, my good host," said D''Artagnan, filling the two
glasses, "I asked for a bottle of your best wine, and if you have
deceived me, you will be punished in what you have sinned; for
seeing that I hate drinking my myself, you shall drink with me.
Take your glass, then, and let us drink. But what shall we drink
to, so as to avoid wounding any susceptibility? Let us drink to
the prosperity of your establishment."
"Your Lordship does me much honor," said the host, "and I thank
you sincerely for your kind wish."
"But don''t mistake," said D''Artagnan, "there is more selfishness
in my toast than perhaps you may think--for it is only in
prosperous establishments that one is well received. In hotels
that do not flourish, everything is in confusion, and the
traveler is a victim to the embarrassments of his host. Now, I
travel a great deal, particularly on this road, and I wish to see
all innkeepers making a fortune."
"It seems to me," said the host, "that this is not the first time
I have had the honor of seeing Monsieur."
"Bah, I have passed perhaps ten times through Chantilly, and out
of the ten times I have stopped three or four times at your house
at least. Why I was here only ten or twelve days ago. I was
conducting some friends, Musketeers, one of whom, by the by, had
a dispute with a stranger--a man who sought a quarrel with him,
for I don''t know what."
"Exactly so," said the host; "I remember it perfectly. It is not
Monsieur Porthos that your Lordship means?"
"Yes, that is my companion''s name. My God, my dear host, tell me
if anything has happened to him?"
"Your Lordship must have observed that he could not continue his
journey."
"Why, to be sure, he promised to rejoin us, and we have seen
nothing of him."
"He has done us the honor to remain here."
"What, he had done you the honor to remain here?"
"Yes, monsieur, in this house; and we are even a little uneasy--"
"On what account?"
"Of certain expenses he has contracted."
"Well, but whatever expenses he may have incurred, I am sure he
is in a con***ion to pay them."
"Ah, monsieur, you infuse genuine balm into my blood. We have
made considerable advances; and this very morning the surgeon
declared that if Monsieur Porthos did not pay him, he should look
to me, as it was I who had sent for him."
"Porthos is wounded, then?"
"I cannot tell you, monsieur."
"What! You cannot tell me? Surely you ought to be able to tell
me better than any other person."
"Yes; but in our situation we must not say all we know--
particularly as we have been warned that our ears should answer
for our tongues."
"Well, can I see Porthos?"
"Certainly, monsieur. Take the stairs on your right; go up the
first flight and knock at Number One. Only warn him that it is
you."
"Why should I do that?"
"Because, monsieur, some mischief might happen to you."
"Of what kind, in the name of wonder?"
"Monsieur Porthos may imagine you belong to the house, and in a
fit of passion might run his sword through you or blow out your
brains."
"What have you done to him, then?"
"We have asked him for money."
"The devil! Ah, I can understand that. It is a demand that
Porthos takes very ill when he is not in funds; but I know he
must be so at present."
"We thought so, too, monsieur. As our house is carried on very
regularly, and we make out our bills every week, at the end of
eight days we presented our account; but it appeared we had
chosen an unlucky moment, for at the first word on the subject,
he sent us to all the devils. It is true he had been playing the
day before."
"Playing the day before! And with whom?"
"Lord, who can say, monsieur? With some gentleman who was
traveling this way, to whom he proposed a game of LANSQUENET."
"That''s it, then, and the foolish fellow lost all he had?"
"Even to his horse, monsieur; for when the gentleman was about to
set out, we perceived that his lackey was saddling Monsieur
Porthos''s horse, as well as his master''s. When we observed this
to him, he told us all to trouble ourselves about our own
business, as this horse belonged to him. We also informed
Monsieur Porthos of what was going on; but he told us we were
scoundrels to doubt a gentleman''s word, and that as he had said
the horse was his, it must be so."
"That''s Porthos all over," murmured D''Artagnan.
"Then," continued the host, "I replied that as from the moment we
seemed not likely to come to a good understanding with respect to
payment, I hoped that he would have at least the kindness to
grant the favor of his custom to my brother host of the Golden
Eagle; but Monsieur Porthos replied that, my house being the
best, he should remain where he was. This reply was too
flattering to allow me to insist on his departure. I confined
myself then to begging him to give up his chamber, which is the
handsomest in the hotel, and to be satisfied with a pretty little
room on the third floor; but to this Monsieur Porthos replied
that as he every moment expected his mistress, who was one of the
greatest ladies in the court, I might easily comprehend that the
chamber he did me the honor to occupy in my house was itself very
mean for the visit of such a personage. Nevertheless, while
acknowledging the truth of what he said, I thought proper to
insist; but without even giving himself the trouble to enter into
any discussion with me, he took one of his pistols, laid it on
his table, day and night, and said that at the first word that
should be spoken to him about removing, either within the house
or our of it, he would blow out the brains of the person who
should be so imprudent as to meddle with a matter which only
concerned himself. Since that time, monsieur, nobody enter his
chamber but his servant."
"What! Mousqueton is here, then?"
"Oh, yes, monsieur. Five days after your departure, he came
back, and in a very bad con***ion, too. It appears that he had
met with disagreeables, likewise, on his journey. Unfortunately,
he is more nimble than his master; so that for the sake of his
master, he puts us all under his feet, and as he thinks we might
refuse what he asked for, he takes all he wants without asking at
all."
"The fact is," said D''Artagnan, "I have always observed a great
degree of intelligence and devotedness in Mousqueton."
"That is possible, monsieur; but suppose I should happen to be
brought in contact, even four times a year, with such
intelligence and devotedness--why, I should be a ruined man!"
"No, for Porthos will pay you."
"Hum!" said the host, in a doubtful tone.
"The favorite of a great lady will not be allowed to be
inconvenienced for such a paltry sum as he owes you."
"If I durst say what I believe on that head--"
"What you believe?"
"I ought rather to say, what I know."
"What you know?"
"And even what I am sure of."
"And of what are you so sure?"
"I would say that I know this great lady."
"You?"
"Yes; I."
"And how do you know her?"
"Oh, monsieur, if I could believe I might trust in your
discretion."
"Speak! By the word of a gentleman, you shall have no cause to
repent of your confidence."
"Well, monsieur, you understand that uneasiness makes us do many
things."
"What have you done?"
"Oh, nothing which was not right in the character of a cre***or."
"Well?"
"Monsieur Porthos gave us a note for his duchess, ordering us to
put it in the post. This was before his servant came. As he
could not leave his chamber, it was necessary to charge us with
this commission."
"And then?"
"Instead of putting the letter in the post, which is never safe,
I took advantage of the journey of one of my lads to Paris, and
ordered him to convey the letter to this duchess himself. This
was fulfilling the intentions of Monsieur Porthos, who had
desired us to be so careful of this letter, was it not?"
"Nearly so."
"Well, monsieur, do you know who this great lady is?"
"No; I have heard Porthos speak of her, that''s all."
"Do you know who this pretended duchess is?
"I repeat to you, I don''t know her."
"Why, she is the old wife of a procurator* of the Chatelet,
monsieur, named Madame Coquenard, who, although she is at least
fifty, still gives herself jealous airs. It struck me as very
odd that a princess should live in the Rue aux Ours."
*Attorney
"But how do you know all this?"
"Because she flew into a great passion on receiving the letter,
saying that Monsieur Porthos was a weather****, and that she was
sure it was for some woman he had received this wound."
"Has he been wounded, then?"
"Oh, good Lord! What have I said?"
"You said that Porthos had received a sword cut."
"Yes, but he has forbidden me so strictly to say so."
"And why so."
"Zounds, monsieur! Because he had boasted that he would
perforate the stranger with whom you left him in dispute; whereas
the stranger, on the contrary, in spite of all his rodomontades
quickly threw him on his back. As Monsieur Porthos is a very
boastful man, he insists that nobody shall know he has received
this wound except the duchess, whom he endeavored to interest by
an account of his adventure."
"It is a wound that confines him to his bed?"
"Ah, and a master stroke, too, I assure you. Your friend''s soul
must stick tight to his body."
"Were you there, then?"
"Monsieur, I followed them from curiosity, so that I saw the
combat without the combatants seeing me."
"And what took place?"
"Oh! The affair was not long, I assure you. They placed
themselves on guard; the stranger made a feint and a lunge, and
that so rapidly that when Monsieur Porthos came to the PARADE, he
had already three inches of steel in his breast. He immediately
fell backward. The stranger placed the point of his sword at his
throat; and Monsieur Porthos, finding himself at the mercy of his
adversary, acknowledged himself conquered. Upon which the
stranger asked his name, and learning that it was Porthos, and
not D''Artagnan, he assisted him to rise, brought him back to the
hotel, mounted his horse, and disappeared."
"So it was with Monsieur D''Artagnan this stranger meant to
quarrel?"
"It appears so."
"And do you know what has become of him?"
"No, I never saw him until that moment, and have not seen him
since."
"Very well; I know all that I wish to know. Porthos''s chamber
is, you say, on the first story, Number One?"
"Yes, monsieur, the handsomest in the inn--a chamber that I could
have let ten times over."
"Bah! Be satisfied," said D''Artagnan, laughing, "Porthos will
pay you with the money of the Duchess Coquenard."
"Oh, monsieur, procurator''s wife or duchess, if she will but
loosen her pursestrings, it will be all the same; but she
positively answered that she was tired of the exigencies and
infidelities of Monsieur Porthos, and that she would not send him
a denier."
"And did you convey this answer to your guest?"
"We took good care not to do that; he would have found in what
fashion we had executed his commission."
"So that he still expects his money?"
"Oh, Lord, yes, monsieur! Yesterday he wrote again; but it was
his servant who this time put the letter in the post."
"Do you say the procurator''s wife is old and ugly?"
"Fifty at least, monsieur, and not at all handsome, according to
Pathaud''s account."
"In that case, you may be quite at ease; she will soon be
softened. Besides, Porthos cannot owe you much."
"How, not much! Twenty good pistoles, already, without reckoning
the doctor. He denies himself nothing; it may easily be seen he
has been accustomed to live well."
"Never mind; if his mistress abandons him, he will find friends,
I will answer for it. So, my dear host, be not uneasy, and
continue to take all the care of him that his situation
requires."
"Monsieur has promised me not to open his mouth about the
procurator''s wife, and not to say a word of the wound?"
"That''s agreed; you have my word."
"Oh, he would kill me!"
"Don''t be afraid; he is not so much of a devil as he appears."
Saying these words, D''Artagnan went upstairs, leaving his host a
little better satisfied with respect to two things in which he
appeared to be very much interested--his debt and his life.
At the top of the stairs, upon the most conspicuous door of the
corridor, was traced in black ink a gigantic number "1."
D''Artagnan knocked, and upon the bidding to come in which came
from inside, he entered the chamber.
Porthos was in bed, and was playing a game at LANSQUENET with
Mousqueton, to keep his hand in; while a spit loaded with
partridges was turning before the fire, and on each side of a
large chimneypiece, over two chafing dishes, were boiling two
stewpans, from which exhaled a double odor of rabbit and fish
stews, rejoicing to the smell. In ad***ion to this he perceived
that the top of a wardrobe and the marble of a commode were
covered with empty bottles.
At the sight of his friend, Porthos uttered a loud cry of joy;
and Mousqueton, rising respectfully, yielded his place to him,
and went to give an eye to the two stewpans, of which he appeared
to have the particular inspection.
"Ah, PARDIEU! Is that you?" said Porthos to D''Artagnan. "You
are right welcome. Excuse my not coming to meet you; but," added
he, looking at D''Artagnan with a certain degree of uneasiness,
"you know what has happened to me?"
"No."
"Has the host told you nothing, then?"
"I asked after you, and came up as soon as I could."
Porthos seemed to breathe more freely.
"And what has happened to you, my dear Porthos?" continued
D''Artagnan.
"Why, on making a thrust at my adversary, whom I had already hit
three times, and whom I meant to finish with the fourth, I put my
foot on a stone, slipped, and strained my knee."
"Truly?"
"Honor! Luckily for the rascal, for I should have left him dead
on the spot, I assure you."
"And what has became of him?"
"Oh, I don''t know; he had enough, and set off without waiting for
the rest. But you, my dear D''Artagnan, what has happened to
you?"
"So that this strain of the knee," continued D''Artagnan, "my dear
Porthos, keeps you in bed?"
"My God, that''s all. I shall be about again in a few days."
"Why did you not have yourself conveyed to Paris? You must be
cruelly bored here."
"That was my intention; but, my dear friend, I have one thing to
confess to you."
"What''s that?"
"It is that as I was cruelly bored, as you say, and as I had the
seventy-five pistoles in my pocket which you had distributed to
me, in order to amuse myself I invited a gentleman who was
traveling this way to walk up, and proposed a cast of dice. He
accepted my challenge, and, my faith, my seventy-five pistoles
passed from my pocket to his, without reckoning my horse, which
he won into the bargain. But you, my dear D''Artagnan?"
"What can you expect, my dear Porthos; a man is not privileged in
all ways," said D''Artagnan. "You know the proverb ''Unlucky at
play, lucky in love.'' You are too fortunate in your love for
play not to take its revenge. What consequence can the reverses
of fortune be to you? Have you not, happy rogue that you are--
have you not your duchess, who cannot fail to come to your aid?"
"Well, you see, my dear D''Artagnan, with what ill luck I play,"
replied Porthos, with the most careless air in the world. "I
wrote to her to send me fifty louis or so, of which I stood
absolutely in need on account of my accident."
"Well?"
"Well, she must be at her country seat, for she has not answered
me."
"Truly?"
"No; so I yesterday addressed another epistle to her, still more
pressing than the first. But you are here, my dear fellow, let
us speak of you. I confess I began to be very uneasy on your
account."
"But your host behaves very well toward you, as it appears, my
dear Porthos," said D''Artagnan, directing the sick man''s
attention to the full stewpans and the empty bottles.
"So, so," replied Porthos. "Only three or four days ago the
impertinent jackanapes gave me his bill, and I was forced to turn
both him and his bill out of the door; so that I am here
something in the fashion of a conqueror, holding my position, as
it were, my conquest. So you see, being in constant fear of
being forced from that position, I am armed to the teeth."
"And yet," said D''Artagnan, laughing, "it appears to me that from
time to time you must make SORTIES." And he again pointed to the
bottles and the stewpans.
"Not I, unfortunately!" said Porthos. "This miserable strain
confines me to my bed; but Mousqueton forages, and brings in
provisions. Friend Mousqueton, you see that we have a
reinforcement, and we must have an increase of supplies."
"Mousqueton," said D''Artagnan, "you must render me a service."
"What, monsieur?"
"You must give your recipe to Planchet. I may be besieged in my
turn, and I shall not be sorry for him to be able to let me enjoy
the same advantages with which you gratify your master."
"Lord, monsieur! There is nothing more easy," said Mousqueton,
with a modest air. "One only needs to be sharp, that''s all. I
was brought up in the country, and my father in his leisure time
was something of a poacher."
"And what did he do the rest of his time?"
"Monsieur, he carried on a trade which I have always thought
satisfactory."
"Which?"
"As it was a time of war between the Catholics and the Huguenots,
and as he saw the Catholics exterminate the Huguenots and the
Huguenots exterminate the Catholics--all in the name of
religion--he adopted a mixed belief which permitted him to be
sometimes Catholic, sometimes a Huguenot. Now, he was accustomed
to walk with his fowling piece on his shoulder, behind the hedges
which border the roads, and when he saw a Catholic coming alone,
the Protestant religion immediately prevailed in his mind. He
lowered his gun in the direction of the traveler; then, when he
was within ten paces of him, he commenced a conversation which
almost always ended by the traveler''s abandoning his purse to
save his life. It goes without saying that when he saw a
Huguenot coming, he felt himself filled with such ardent Catholic
zeal that he could not understand how, a quarter of an hour
before, he had been able to have any doubts upon the superiority
of our holy religion. For my part, monsieur, I am Catholic--my
father, faithful to his principles, having made my elder brother
a Huguenot."
"And what was the end of this worthy man?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Oh, of the most unfortunate kind, monsieur. One day he was
surprised in a lonely road between a Huguenot and a Catholic,
with both of whom he had before had business, and who both knew
him again; so they united against him and hanged him on a tree.
Then they came and boasted of their fine exploit in the cabaret
of the next village, where my brother and I were drinking."
"And what did you do?" said D''Artagnan.
"We let them tell their story out," replied Mousqueton. "Then,
as in leaving the cabaret they took different directions, my
brother went and hid himself on the road of the Catholic, and I
on that of the Huguenot. Two hours after, all was over; we had
done the business of both, admiring the foresight of our poor
father, who had taken the precaution to bring each of us up in a
different religion."
"Well, I must allow, as you say, your father was a very
intelligent fellow. And you say in his leisure moments the
worthy man was a poacher?"
"Yes, monsieur, and it was he who taught me to lay a snare and
ground a line. The consequence is that when I saw our laborers,
which did not at all suit two such delicate stomachs as ours, I
had recourse to a little of my old trade. While walking near the
wood of Monsieur le Prince, I laid a few snare in the runs; and
while reclining on the banks of his Highness''s pieces of water, I
slipped a few lines into his fish ponds. So that now, thanks be
to God, we do not want, as Monsieur can testify, for partridges,
rabbits, carp or eels--all light, wholesome food, suitable for
the sick."
"But the wine," said D''Artagnan, "who furnishes the wine? Your
host?"
"That is to say, yes and no."
"How yes and no?"
"He furnishes it, it is true, but he does not know that he has
that honor."
"Explain yourself, Mousqueton; your conversation is full of
instructive things."
"That is it, monsieur. It has so chanced that I met with a
Spaniard in my peregrinations who had seen many countries, and
among them the New World."
"What connection can the New World have with the bottles which
are on the commode and the wardrobe?"
"Patience, monsieur, everything will come in its turn."
"This Spaniard had in his service a lackey who had accompanied
him in his voyage to Mexico. This lackey was my compatriot; and
we became the more intimate from there being many resemblances of
character between us. We loved sporting of all kinds better than
anything; so that he related to me how in the plains of the
Pampas the natives hunt the tiger and the wild bull with simple
running nooses which they throw to a distance of twenty or thirty
paves the end of a cord with such nicety; but in face of the
proof I was obliged to acknowledge the truth of the recital. My
friend placed a bottle at the distance of thirty paces, and at
each cast he caught the neck of the bottle in his running noose.
I practiced this exercise, and as nature has endowed me with some
faculties, at this day I can throw the lasso with any man in the
world. Well, do you understand, monsieur? Our host has a well-
furnished cellar the key of which never leaves him; only this
cellar has a ventilating hole. Now through this ventilating
hole I throw my lasso, and as I now know in which part of the
cellar is the best wine, that''s my point for sport. You see,
monsieur, what the New World has to do with the bottles which are
on the commode and the wardrobe. Now, will you taste our wine,
and without prejudice say what you think of it?"
"Thank you, my friend, thank you; unfortunately, I have just
breakfasted."
"Well," said Porthos, "arrange the table, Mousequeton, and while
we breakfast, D''Artagnan will relate to us what has happened to
him during the ten days since he left us."
"Willingly," said D''Artagnan.
While Porthos and Mousqueton were breakfasting, with the
appetites of convalescents and with that brotherly cordiality
which unites men in misfortune, D''Artagnan related how Aramis,
being wounded, was obliged to stop at Crevecoeur, how he had left
Athos fighting at Amiens with four men who accused him of being a
coiner, and how he, D''Artagnan, had been forced to run the Comtes
de Wardes through the body in order to reach England.
But there the confidence of D''Artagnan stopped. He only added
that on his return from Great Britain he had brought back four
magnificent horses--one for himself, and one for each of his
companions; then he informed Porthos that the one intended for
him was already installed in the stable of the tavern.
At this moment Planchet entered, to inform his master that the
horses were sufficiently refreshed and that it would be possible
to sleep at Clermont.
As D''Artagnan was tolerably reassured with regard to Porthos, and
as he was anxious to obtain news of his two other friends, he
held out his hand to the wounded man, and told him he was about
to resume his route in order to continue his researches. For the
rest, as he reckoned upon returning by the same route in seven or
eight days, if Porthos were still at the Great St. Martin, he
would call for him on his way.
Porthos replied that in all probability his sprain would not
permit him to depart yet awhile. Besides, it was necessary he
should stay at Chantilly to wait for the answer from his duchess.
D''Artagnan wished that answer might be prompt and favorable; and
having again recommended Porthos to the care of Mousqueton, and
paid his bill to the host, he resumed his route with Planchet,
already relieved of one of his led horses.

26 ARAMIS AND HIS THESIS
D''Artagnan had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or of his
procurator''s wife. Our Bernais was a prudent lad, however young
he might be. Consequently he had appeared to believe all that
the vainglorious Musketeer had told him, convinced that no
friendship will hold out against a surprised secret. Besides, we
feel always a sort of mental superiority over those whose lives
we know better than they suppose. In his projects of intrigue
for the future, and determined as he was to make his three
friends the instruments of his fortune, D''Artagnan was not sorry
at getting into his grasp beforehand the invisible strings by
which he reckoned upon moving them.
And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed upon
his heart. He thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieux
who was to have paid him the price of his devotedness; but let us
hasten to say that this sadness possessed the young man less from
the regret of the happiness he had missed, than from the fear he
entertained that some serious misfortune had befallen the poor
woman. For himself, he had no doubt she was a victim of the
cardinal''s vengeance; and, and as was well known, the vengeance
of his Eminence was terrible. How he had found grace in the eyes
f the minister, he did not know; but without doubt M. de Cavois
would have revealed this to him if the captain of the Guards had
found him at home.
Nothing makes time pass more quickly or more shortens a journey
than a thought which absorbs in itself all the faculties of the
organization of him who thinks. External existence then
resembles a sleep of which this thought is the dream. By its
influence, time has no longer measure, space has no longer
distance. We depart from one place, and arrive at another, that
is all. Of the interval passed, nothing remains in the memory
but a vague mist in which a thousand confused images of trees,
mountains, and landscapes are lost. It was as a prey to this
hallucination that D''Artagnan traveled, at whatever pace his
horse pleased, the six or eight leagues that separated Chantilly
from Crevecoeur, without his being able to remember on his
arrival in the village any of the things he had passed or met
with on the road.
There only his memory returned to him. He shook his head,
perceived the cabaret at which he had left Aramis, and putting
his horse to the trot, he shortly pulled up at the door.
This time is was not a host but a hostess who received him.
D''Artagnan was a physiognomist. His eye took in at a glance the
plump, cheerful countenance of the mistress of the place, and he
at once perceived there was no occasion for dissembling with her,
or of fearing anything from one blessed with such a joyous
physiognomy.
"My good dame," asked D''Artagnan, "can you tell me what has
become of one of my friends, whom we were obliged to leave here
about a dozen days ago?"
"A handsome young man, three- or four-and-twenty years old, mild,
amiable, and well made?"
"That is he--wounded in the shoulder."
"Just so. Well, monsieur, he is still here."
"Ah, PARDIEU! My dear dame," said D''Artagnan, springing from his
horse, and throwing the bridle to Planchet, "you restore me to
life; where is this dear Aramis? Let me embrace him, I am in a
hurry to see him again."
"Pardon, monsieur, but I doubt whether he can see you at this
moment."
"Why so? Has he a lady with him?"
"Jesus! What do you mean by that? Poor lad! No, monsieur, he
has not a lady with him."
"With whom is he, then?"
"With the curate of Montdidier and the superior of the Jesuits of
Amiens."
"Good heavens!" cried D''Artagnan, "is the poor fellow worse,
then?"
"No, monsieur, quite the contrary; but after his illness grace
touched him, and he determined to take orders."
"That''s it!" said D''Artagnan, "I had forgotten that he was only a
Musketeer for a time."
"Monsieur still insists upon seeing him?"
"More than ever."
"Well, monsieur has only to take the right-hand staircase in the
courtyard, and knock at Number Five on the second floor."
D''Artagnan walked quickly in the direction indicated, and found
one of those exterior staircases that are still to be seen in the
yards of our old-fashioned taverns. But there was no getting at
the place of sojourn of the future abbe; the defiles of the
chamber of Aramis were as well guarded as the gardens of Armida.
Bazin was stationed in the corridor, and barred his passage with
the more intrepi***y that, after many years of trial, Bazin found
himself near a result of which he had ever been ambitious.
In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had always been to serve a
churchman; and he awaited with impatience the moment, always in
the future, when Aramis would throw aside the uniform and assume
the cassock. The daily-renewed promise of the young man that the
moment would not long be delayed, had alone kept him in the
service of a Musketeer--a service in which, he said, his soul was
in constant jeopardy.
Bazin was then at the height of joy. In all probability, this
time his master would not retract. The union of physical pain
with moral uneasiness had produced the effect so long desired.
Aramis, suffering at once in body and mind, had at length fixed
his eyes and his thoughts upon religion, and he had considered as
a warning from heaven the double accident which had happened to
him; that is to say, the sudden disappearance of his mistress and
the wound in his shoulder.
It may be easily understood that in the present disposition of
his master nothing could be more disagreeable to Bazin than the
arrival of D''Artagnan, which might cast his master back again
into that vortex of mundane affairs which had so long carried him
away. He resolved, then, to defend the door bravely; and as,
betrayed by the mistress of the inn, he could not say that Aramis
was absent, he endeavored to prove to the newcomer that it would
be the height of indiscretion to disturb his master in his pious
conference, which had commenced with the morning and would not,
as Bazin said, terminate before night.
But D''Artagnan took very little heed of the eloquent discourse of
M. Bazin; and as he had no desire *****pport a polemic discussion
with his friend''s valet, he simply moved him out of the way with
one hand, and with the other turned the handle of the door of
Number Five. The door opened, and D''Artagnan went into the
chamber.
Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of round
flat cap, not much unlike a CALOTTE, was seated before an oblong
table, covered with rolls of paper and enormous volumes in folio.
At his right hand was placed the superior of the Jesuits, and on
his left the curate of Montdidier. The curtains were half drawn,
and only admitted the mysterious light calculated for beatific
reveries. All the mundane objects that generally strike the eye
on entering the room of a young man, particularly when that young
man is a Musketeer, had disappeared as if by enchantment; and for
fear, no doubt, that the sight of them might bring his master
back to ideas of this world, Bazin had laid his hands upon sword,
pistols, plumed hat, and embroideries and laces of all kinds and
sorts. In their stead D''Artagnan thought he perceived in an
obscure corner a discipline cord suspended from a nail in the
wall.
At the noise made by D''Artagnan in entering, Aramis lifted up his
head, and beheld his friend; but to the great astonishment of the
young man, the sight of him did not produce much effect upon the
Musketeer, so completely was his mind detached from the things of
this world.
"Good day, dear D''Artagnan," said Aramis; "believe me, I am glad
to see you."
"So am I delighted to see you," said D''Artagnan, "although I am
not yet sure that it is Aramis I am speaking to."
"To himself, my friend, to himself! But what makes you doubt
it?"
"I was afraid I had made a mistake in the chamber, and that I had
found my way into the apartment of some churchman. Then another
error seized me on seeing you in company with these gentlemen--I
was afraid you were dangerously ill."
The two men in black, who guessed D''Artagnan''s meaning, darted at
him a glance which might have been thought threatening; but
D''Artagnan took no heed of it.
"I disturb you, perhaps, my dear Aramis," continued D''Artagnan,
"for by what I see, I am led to believe that you are confessing
to these gentlemen."
Aramis colored imperceptibly. "You disturb me? Oh, quite the
contrary, dear friend, I swear; and as a proof of what I say,
permit me to declare I am rejoiced to see you safe and sound."
"Ah, he''ll come round," thought D''Artagnan; "that''s not bad!"
"This gentleman, who is my friend, has just escaped from a
serious danger," continued Aramis, with unction, pointing to
D''Artagnan with his hand, and addressing the two ecclesiastics.
"Praise God, monsieur," replied they, bowing together.
"I have not failed to do so, your Reverences," replied the young
man, returning their salutation.
"You arrive in good time, dear D''Artagnan," said Aramis, "and by
taking part in our discussion may assist us with your
intelligence. Monsieur the Principal of Amiens, Monsieur the
Curate of Montdidier, and I are arguing certain theological
questions in which we have been much interested; I shall be
delighted to have your opinion."
"The opinion of a swordsman can have very little weight," replied
D''Artagnan, who began to be uneasy at the turn things were
taking, "and you had better be satisfied, believe me, with the
knowledge of these gentlemen."
The two men in black bowed in their turn.
"On the contrary," replied Aramis, "your opinion will be very
valuable. The question is this: Monsieur the Principal thinks
that my thesis ought to be dogmatic and didactic."
"Your thesis! Are you then making a thesis?"
"Without doubt," replied the Jesuit. "In the examination which
precedes ordination, a thesis is always a requisite."
"Ordination!" cried D''Artagnan, who could not believe what the
hostess and Bazin had successively told him; and he gazed, half
stupefied, upon the three persons before him.
"Now," continued Aramis, taking the same graceful position in his
easy chair that he would have assumed in bed, and complacently
examining his hand, which was as white and plump as that of a
woman, and which he held in the air to cause the blood to
descend, "now, as you have heard, D''Artagnan, Monsieur the
Principal is desirous that my thesis should be dogmatic, while I,
for my part, would rather it should be ideal. This is the reason
why Monsieur the Principal has proposed to me the following
subject, which has not yet been treated upon, and in which I
perceive there is matter for magnificent elaboration-''UTRAQUE
MANUS IN BENEDICENDO CLERICIS INFERIORIBUS NECESSARIA EST.''"
D''Artagnan, whose eru***ion we are well acquainted with, evinced
no more interest on hearing this quotation than he had at that of
M. de Treville in allusion to the gifts he pretended that
D''Artagnan had received from the Duke of Buckingham.
"Which means," resumed Aramis, that he might perfectly
understand, "''The two hands are indispensable for priests of the
inferior orders, when they bestow the benediction.''"
"An admirable subject!" cried the Jesuit.
"Admirable and dogmatic!" repeated the curate, who, about as
strong as D''Artagnan with respect to Latin, carefully watched the
Jesuit in order to keep step with him, and repeated his words
like an echo.
As to D''Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to the
enthusiasm of the two men in black.
"Yes, admirable! PRORSUS ADMIRABILE!" continued Aramis; "but
which requires a profound study of both the Scriptures and the
Fathers. Now, I have confessed to these learned ecclesiastics,
and that in all humility, that the duties of mounting guard and
the service of the king have caused me to neglect study a little.
I should find myself, therefore, more at my ease, FACILUS NATANS,
in a subject of my own choice, which would be to these hard
theological questions what morals are to metaphysics in
philosophy."
D''Artagnan began to be tired, and so did the curate.
"See what an exordium!" cried the Jesuit.
"Exordium," repeated the curate, for the sake of saying
something. "QUEMADMODUM INTER COELORUM IMMENSITATEM."
Aramis cast a glance upon D''Artagnan to see what effect all this
produced, and found his friend gaping enough to split his jaws.
"Let us speak French, my father," said he to the Jesuit;
"Monsieur D''Artagnan will enjoy our conversation better."
"Yes," replied D''Artagnan; "I am fatigued with reading, and all
this Latin confuses me."
"Certainly," replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while the
curate, greatly delighted, turned upon D''Artagnan a look full of
gratitude. "Well, let us see what is to be derived from this
gloss. Moses, the servant of God-he was but a servant, please to
understand-Moses blessed with the hands; he held out both his
arms while the Hebrews beat their enemies, and then he blessed
them with his two hands. Besides, what does the Gospel say?
IMPONITE MANUS, and not MANUM-place the HANDS, not the HAND."
"Place the HANDS," repeated the curate, with a gesture.
"St. Peter, on the contrary, of whom the Popes are the
successors," continued the Jesuit; "PORRIGE DIGITOS-present the
fingers. Are you there, now?"
"CERTES," replied Aramis, in a pleased tone, "but the thing is
subtle."
"The FINGERS," resumed the Jesuit, "St. Peter blessed with the
FINGERS. The Pope, therefore blesses with the fingers. And with
how many fingers does he bless? With THREE fingers, to be sure-
one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost."
All crossed themselves. D''Artagnan thought it was proper to
follow this example.
"The Pope is the successor of St. Peter, and represents the three
divine powers; the rest-ORDINES INFERIORES-of the ecclesiastical
hierarchy bless in the name of the holy archangels and angels.
The most humble clerks such as our deacons and sacristans, bless
with holy water sprinklers, which resemble an infinite number of
blessing fingers. There is the subject simplified. ARGUMENTUM
OMNI DENUDATUM ORNAMENTO. I could make of that subject two
volumes the size of this," continued the Jesuit; and in his
enthusiasm he struck a St. Chrysostom in folio, which made the
table bend beneath its weight.
D''Artagnan trembled.
"CERTES," said Aramis, "I do justice to the beauties of this
thesis; but at the same time I perceive it would be overwhelming
for me. I had chosen this text-tell me, dear D''Artagnan, if it
is not to your taste-''NON INUTILE EST DESIDERIUM IN OBLATIONE'';
that is, ''A little regret is not unsuitable in an offering to the
Lord.''"
"Stop there!" cried the Jesuit, "for that thesis touches closely
upon heresy. There is a proposition almost like it in the
AUGUSTINUS of the heresiarch Jansenius, whose book will sooner or
later be burned by the hands of the executioner. Take care, my
young friend. You are inclining toward false doctrines, my young
friend; you will be lost."
"You will be lost," said the curate, shaking his head
sorrowfully.
"You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortal
rock. You face the insinuations of the Pelagians and the demi-
Peligians."
"But, my Reverend-" replied Aramis, a little amazed by the shower
of arguments that poured upon his head.
"How will you prove," continued the Jesuit, without allowing him
time to speak, "that we ought to regret the world when we offer
ourselves to God? Listen to this dilemma: God is God, and the
world is the devil. To regret the world is to regret the devil;
that is my conclusion."
"And that is mine also," said the curate.
"But, for heaven''s sake-" resumed Aramis.
"DESIDERAS DIABOLUM, unhappy man!" cried the Jesuit.
"He regrets the devil! Ah, my young friend," added the curate,
groaning, "do not regret the devil, I implore you!"
D''Artagnan felt himself bewildered. It seemed to him as though
he were in a madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw.
He was, however, forced to hold his tongue from not comprehending
half the language they employed.
"But listen to me, then," resumed Aramis with politeness mingled
with a little impatience. "I do not say I regret; no, I will
never pronounce that sentence, which would not be orthodox."
The Jesuit raised his hands toward heaven, and the curate did the
same.
"No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace to
offer to the Lord only that with which we are perfectly
disgusted! Don''t you think so, D''Artagnan?"
"I think so, indeed," cried he.
The Jesuit and the curate quite started from their chairs.
"This is the point of departure; it is a syllogism. The world is
not wanting in attractions. I quit the world; then I make a
sacrifice. Now, the Scripture says positively, ''Make a sacrifice
unto the Lord.''"
"That is true," said his antagonists.
"And then," said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as he
rubbed his hands to make them white, "and then I made a certain
RONDEAU upon it last year, which I showed to Monsieur Voiture,
and that great man paid me a thousand compliments."
"A RONDEAU!" said the Jesuit, disdainfully.
"A RONDEAU!" said the curate, mechanically.
"Repeat it! Repeat it!" cried D''Artagnan; "it will make a little
change."
"Not so, for it is religious," replied Aramis; "it is theology in
verse."
"The devil!" said D''Artagnan.
"Here it is," said Aramis, with a little look of diffidence,
which, however, was not exempt from a shade of hypocrisy:
"Vous qui pleurez un passe plein de charmes,
Et qui trainez des jours infortunes,
Tous vos malheurs se verront termines,
Quand a Dieu seul vous offrirez vos larmes,
Vous qui pleurez!"
"You who weep for pleasures fled,
While dragging on a life of care,
All your woes will melt in air,
If to God your tears are shed,
You who weep!"
D''Artagnan and the curate appeared pleased. The Jesuit persisted
in his opinion. "Beware of a profane taste in your theological
style. What says Augustine on this subject: "''SEVERUS SIT
CLERICORUM VERBO.''"
"Yes, let the sermon be clear," said the curate.
"Now," hastily interrupted the Jesuit, on seeing that his acolyte
was going astray, "now your thesis would please the ladies; it
would have the success of one of Monsieur Patru''s pleadings."
"Please God!" cried Aramis, transported.
"There it is," cried the Jesuit; "the world still speaks within
you in a loud voice, ALTISIMMA VOCE. You follow the world, my
young friend, and I tremble lest grace prove not efficacious."
"Be satisfied, my reverend father, I can answer for myself."
"Mundane presumption!"
"I know myself, Father; my resolution is irrevocable."
"Then you persist in continuing that thesis?"
"I feel myself called upon to treat that, and no other. I will
see about the continuation of it, and tomorrow I hope you will be
satisfied with the corrections I shall have made in consequence
of your advice."
"Work slowly," said the curate; "we leave you in an excellent
tone of mind."
"Yes, the ground is all sown," said the Jesuit, "and we have not
to fear that one portion of the seed may have fallen upon stone,
another upon the highway, or that the birds of heaven have eaten
the rest, AVES COELI COMEDERUNT ILLAM."
"Plague stifle you and your Latin!" said D''Artagnan, who began to
feel all his patience exhausted.
"Farewell, my son," said the curate, "till tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow, rash youth," said the Jesuit. "You promise to
become one of the lights of the Church. Heaven grant that this
light prove not a devouring fire!"
D''Artagnan, who for an hour past had been gnawing his nails with
impatience, was beginning to attack the quick.
The two men in black rose, bowed to Aramis and D''Artagnan, and
advanced toward the door. Bazin, who had been standing listening
to all this controversy with a pious jubilation, sprang toward
them, took the breviary of the curate and the missal of the
Jesuit, and walked respectfully before them to clear their way.
Aramis conducted them to the foot of the stairs, and them
immediately came up again to D''Artagnan, whose senses were still
in a state of confusion.
When left alone, the two friends at first kept an embarrassed
silence. It however became necessary for one of them to break it
first, and as D''Artagnan appeared determined to leave that honor
to his companion, Aramis said, "you see that I am returned to my
fundamental ideas."
"Yes, efficacious grace has touched you, as that gentleman said
just now."
"Oh, these plans of retreat have been formed for a long time.
You have often heard me speak of them, have you not, my friend?"
"Yes; but I confess I always thought you jested."
"With such things! Oh, D''Artagnan!"
"The devil! Why, people jest with death."
"And people are wrong, D''Artagnan; for death is the door which
leads to per***ion or to salvation."
"Granted; but if you please, let us not theologize, Aramis. You
must have had enough for today. As for me, I have almost
forgotten the little Latin I have ever known. Then I confess to
you that I have eaten nothing since ten o''clock this morning, and
I am devilish hungry."
"We will dine directly, my friend; only you must please to
remember that this is Friday. Now, on such a day I can neither
eat flesh nor see it eaten. If you can be satisfied with my
dinner-it consists of cooked tetragones and fruits."
"What do you mean by tetragones?" asked D''Artagnan, uneasily.
"I mean spinach," replied Aramis; "but on your account I will add
some eggs, and that is a serious infraction of the rule-for eggs
are meat, since they engender chickens."
"This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put up
with it for the sake of remaining with you."
"I am grateful to you for the sacrifice," said Aramis; "but if
your body be not greatly benefited by it, be assured your soul
will."
"And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? What
will our two friends say? What will Monsieur de Treville say?
They will treat you as a deserter, I warn you."
"I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it. I deserted the Church
for the world, for you know that I forced myself when I became a
Musketeer."
"I? I know nothing about it."
"You don''t know I quit the seminary?"
"Not at all."
"This is my story, then. Besides, the Scriptures say, ''Confess
yourselves to one another,'' and I confess to you, D''Artagnan."
"And I give you absolution beforehand. You see I am a good sort
of a man."
"Do not jest about holy things, my friend."
"Go on, then, I listen."
"I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days I
should have been twenty. I was about to become an abbe, and all
was arranged. One evening I went, according to custom, to a
house which I frequented with much pleasure: when one is young,
what can be expected?--one is weak. An officer who saw me, with
a jealous eye, reading the LIVES OF THE SAINTS to the mistress of
the house, entered suddenly and without being announced. That
evening I had translated an episode of Ju***h, and had just
communicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts of
compliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them a
second time with me. Her pose, which I must admit was rather
free, wounded this officer. He said nothing; but when I went out
he followed, and quickly came up with me. ''Monsieur the Abbe,''
said he, ''do you like blows with a cane?'' ''I cannot say,
monsieur,'' answered I; ''no one has ever dared to give me any.''
''Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbe! If you venture
again into the house in which I have met you this evening, I will
dare it myself.'' I really think I must have been frightened. I
became very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply,
but could find none-I was silent. The officer waited for his
reply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh,
turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house. I returned to
the seminary.
"I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have
remarked, my dear D''Artagnan. The insult was terrible, and
although unknown to the rest of the world, I felt it live and
fester at the bottom of my heart. I informed my superiors that I
did not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and at
my request the ceremony was postponed for a year. I sought out
the best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him to
take a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took that
lesson. Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had been
insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of a
cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and
to which I knew my man was invited. It was in the Rue des
France-Bourgeois, close to La Force. As I expected, my officer
was there. I went up to him as he was singing a love ***ty and
looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him exactly in the
middle of the second couplet. ''Monsieur,'' said I, ''does it still
displease you that I should frequent a certain house of La Rue
Payenne? And would you still cane me if I took it into my head
to disobey you? The officer looked at me with astonishment, and
then said, ''What is your business with me, monsieur? I do not
know you.'' ''I am,'' said I, ''the little abbe who reads LIVES OF
THE SAINTS, and translates Ju***h into verse.'' ''Ah, ah! I
recollect now,'' said the officer, in a jeering tone; ''well, what
do you want with me?'' ''I want you to spare time to take a walk
with me.'' ''Tomorrow morning, if you like, with the greatest
pleasure.'' ''No, not tomorrow morning, if you please, but
immediately.'' ''If you absolutely insist.'' ''I do insist upon
it.'' ''Come, then. Ladies,'' said the officer, ''do not disturb
yourselves; allow me time just to kill this gentleman, and I will
return and finish the last couplet.''
"We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the same
spot where, a year before, at the very same hour, he had paid me
the compliment I have related to you. It was a superb moonlight
night. We immediately drew, and at the first pass I laid him
stark dead."
"The devil!" cried D''Artagnan.
"Now," continued Aramis, "as the ladies did not see the singer
come back, and as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a great
sword wound through his body, it was supposed that I had
accommodated him thus; and the matter created some scandal which
obliged me to renounce the cassock for a time. Athos, whose
acquaintance I made about that period, and Porthos, who had in
ad***ion to my lessons taught me some effective tricks of fence,
prevailed upon me to solicit the uniform of a Musketeer. The
king entertained great regard for my father, who had fallen at
the siege Arras, and the uniform was granted. You may understand
that the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of the
Church."
"And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What has
happened to you today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?"
"This wound, my dear D''Artagnan, has been a warning to me from
heaven."
"This wound? Bah, it is now nearly healed, and I am sure it is
not that which gives you the most pain."
"What, then?" said Aramis, blushing."
"You have one at heart, Aramis, one deeper and more painful-a
wound made by a woman."
The eye of Aramis kindled in spite of himself.
"Ah," said he, dissembling his emotion under a feigned
carelessness, "do not talk of such things, and suffer love pains?
VANITAS VANITATUM! According to your idea, then, my brain is
turned. And for whom-for some GRISETTE, some chambermaid with
whom I have trifled in some garrison? Fie!"
"Pardon, my dear Aramis, but I thought you carried your eyes
higher."
"Higher? And who am I, to nourish such ambition? A poor
Musketeer, a beggar, an unknown-who hates slavery, and finds
himself ill-placed in the world."
"Aramis, Aramis!" cried D''Artagnan, looking at his friend with an
air of doubt.
"Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliations
and sorrows," continued he, becoming still more melancholy; "all
the ties which attach him to life break in the hand of man,
particularly the golden ties. Oh, my dear D''Artagnan," resumed
Aramis, giving to his voice a slight tone of bitterness, "trust
me! Conceal your wounds when you have any; silence is the last
joy of the unhappy. Beware of giving anyone the clue to your
griefs; the curious suck our tears as flies suck the blood of a
wounded hart."
"Alas, my dear Aramis," said D''Artagnan, in his turn heaving a
profound sigh, "that is my story you are relating!"
"How?"
"Yes; a woman whom I love, whom I adore, has just been torn from
me by force. I do not know where she is or whither they have
conducted her. She is perhaps a prisoner; she is perhaps dead!"
"Yes, but you have at least this consolation, that you can say to
yourself she has not quit you voluntarily, that if you learn no
news of her, it is because all communication with you in
interdicted; while I-"
"Well?"
"Nothing," replied Aramis, "nothing."
"So you renounce the world, then, forever; that is a settled
thing-a resolution registered!"
"Forever! You are my friend today; tomorrow you will be no more
to me than a shadow, or rather, even, you will no longer exist.
As for the world, it is a sepulcher and nothing else."
"The devil! All this is very sad which you tell me."
"What will you? My vocation commands me; it carries me away."
D''Artagnan smiled, but made no answer.
Aramis continued, "And yet, while I do belong to the earth, I
wish to speak of you-of our friends."
"And on my part," said D''Artagnan, "I wished to speak of you, but
I find you so completely detached from everything! To love you
cry, ''Fie! Friends are shadows! The world is a sepulcher!''"
"Alas, you will find it so yourself," said Aramis, with a sigh.
"Well, then, let us say no more about it," said D''Artagnan; "and
let us burn this letter, which, no doubt, announces to you some
fresh infidelity of your GRISETTE or your chambermaid."
"What letter?" cried Aramis, eagerly.
"A letter which was sent to your abode in your absence, and which
was given to me for you."
"But from whom is that letter?"
"Oh, from some heartbroken waiting woman, some desponding
GRISETTE; from Madame de Chevreuse''s chambermaid, perhaps, who
was obliged to return to Tours with her mistress, and who, in
order to appear smart and attractive, stole some perfumed paper,
and sealed her letter with a duchess''s coronet."
"What do you say?"
"Hold! I must have lost it," said the young man maliciously,
pretending to search for it. "But fortunately the world is a
sepulcher; the men, and consequently the women, are but shadows,
and love is a sentiment to which you cry, ''Fie! Fie!''"
"D''Artagnan, D''Artagnan," cried Aramis, "you are killing me!"
"Well, here it is at last!" said D''Artagnan, as he drew the
letter from his pocket.
Aramis made a bound, seized the letter, read it, or rather
devoured it, his countenance radiant.
"This same waiting maid seems to have an agreeable style," said
the messenger, carelessly.
"Thanks, D''Artagnan, thanks!" cried Aramis, almost in a state of
delirium. "She was forced to return to Tours; she is not
faithless; she still loves me! Come, my friend, come, let me
embrace you. Happiness almost stifles me!"
The two friends began to dance around the venerable St.
Chrysostom, kicking about famously the sheets of the thesis,
which had fallen on the floor.
At that moment Bazin entered with the spinach and the omelet.
"Be off, you wretch!" cried Aramis, throwing his skullcap in his
face. "Return whence you came; take back those horrible
vegetables, and that poor kickshaw! Order a larded hare, a fat
capon, mutton leg dressed with garlic, and four bottles of old
Burgundy."
Bazin, who looked at his master, without comprehending the cause
of this change, in a melancholy manner, allowed the omelet to
slip into the spinach, and the spinach onto the floor.
"Now this is the moment to consecrate your existence to the King
of kings," said D''Artagnan, "if you persist in offering him a
civility. NON INUTILE DESIDERIUM OBLATIONE."
"Go to the devil with your Latin. Let us drink, my dear
D''Artagnan, MORBLEU! Let us drink while the wine is fresh! Let
us drink heartily, and while we do so, tell me a little of what
is going on in the world yonder."

27 THE WIFE OF ATHOS
"We have now to search for Athos," said D''Artagnan to the
vivacious Aramis, when he had informed him of all that had passed
since their departure from the capital, and an excellent dinner
had made one of them forget his thesis and the other his fatigue.
"Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?"
asked Aramis. "Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword
so skillfully."
"No doubt. Nobody has a higher opinion of the courage and skill
of Athos than I have; but I like better to hear my sword clang
against lances than against staves. I fear lest Athos should
have been beaten down by serving men. Those fellows strike hard,
and don''t leave off in a hurry. This is why I wish to set out
again as soon as possible."
"I will try to accompany you," said Aramis, "though I scarcely
feel in a con***ion to mount on horseback. Yesterday I undertook
to employ that cord which you see hanging against the wall, but
pain prevented my continuing the pious exercise."
"That''s the first time I ever heard of anybody trying to cure
gunshot wounds with cat-o''-nine-tails; but you were ill, and
illness renders the head weak, therefore you may be excused."
"When do you mean to set out?"
"Tomorrow at daybreak. Sleep as soundly as you can tonight, and
tomorrow, if you can, we will take our departure together."
"Till tomorrow, then," said Aramis; "for iron-nerved as you are,
you must need repose."
The next morning, when D''Artagnan entered Aramis''s chamber, he
found him at the window.
"What are you looking at?" asked D''Artagnan.
"My faith! I am admiring three magnificent horses which the
stable boys are leading about. It would be a pleasure worthy of
a prince to travel upon such horses."
"Well, my dear Aramis, you may enjoy that pleasure, for one of
those three horses is yours."
"Ah, bah! Which?"
"Whichever of the three you like, I have no preference."
"And the rich caparison, is that mine, too?"
"Without doubt."
"You laugh, D''Artagnan."
"No, I have left off laughing, now that you speak French."
"What, those rich holsters, that velvet housing, that saddle
studded with silver-are they all for me?"
"For you and nobody else, as the horse which paws the ground is
mine, and the other horse, which is caracoling, belongs to
Athos."
"PESTE! They are three superb animals!"
"I am glad they please you."
"Why, it must have been the king who made you such a present."
"Certainly it was not the cardinal; but don''t trouble yourself
whence they come, think only that one of the three is your
property."
"I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading."
"It is yours!"
"Good heaven! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I could
mount him with thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsome
stirrups! HOLA, Bazin, come here this minute."
Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless.
"That last order is useless," interrupted D''Artagnan; "there are
loaded pistols in your holsters."
Bazin sighed.
"Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy," said D''Artagnan;
"people of all con***ions gain the kingdom of heaven."
"Monsieur was already such a good theologian," said Bazin, almost
weeping; "he might have become a bishop, and perhaps a cardinal."
"Well, but my poor Bazin, reflect a little. Of what use is it to
be a churchman, pray? You do not avoid going to war by that
means; you see, the cardinal is about to make the next campaign,
helm on head and partisan in hand. And Monsieur de Nogaret de la
Valette, what do you say of him? He is a cardinal likewise. Ask
his lackey how often he has had to prepare lint of him."
"Alas!" sighed Bazin. "I know it, monsieur; everything is turned
topsy-turvy in the world nowadays."
While this dialogue was going on, the two young men and the poor
lackey descended.
"Hold my stirrup, Bazin," cried Aramis; and Aramis sprang into
the saddle with his usual grace and agility, but after a few
vaults and curvets of the noble animal his rider felt his pains
come on so insupportably that he turned pale and became unsteady
in his seat. D''Artagnan, who, foreseeing such an event, had kept
his eye on him, sprang toward him, caught him in his arms, and
assisted him to his chamber.
"That''s all right, my dear Aramis, take care of yourself," said
he; "I will go alone in search of Athos."
"You are a man of brass," replied Aramis.
"No, I have good luck, that is all. But how do you mean to pass
your time till I come back? No more theses, no more glosses upon
the fingers or upon benedictions, hey?"
Aramis smiled. "I will make verses," said he.
"Yes, I dare say; verses perfumed with the odor of the billet
from the attendant of Madame de Chevreuse. Teach Bazin prosody;
that will console him. As to the horse, ride him a little every
day, and that will accustom you to his maneuvers."
"Oh, make yourself easy on that head," replied Aramis. "You will
find me ready to follow you."
They took leave of each other, and in ten minutes, after having
commended his friend to the cares of the hostess and Bazin,
D''Artagnan was trotting along in the direction of Ameins.
How was he going to find Athos? Should he find him at all? The
position in which he had left him was critical. He probably had
succumbed. This idea, while darkening his brow, drew several
sighs from him, and caused him to formulate to himself a few vows
of vengeance. Of all his friends, Athos was the eldest, and the
least resembling him in appearance, in his tastes and sympathies.
Yet he entertained a marked preference for this gentleman. The
noble and distinguished air of Athos, those flashes of greatness
which from time to time broke out from the shade in which he
voluntarily kept himself, that unalterable equality of temper
which made him the most pleasant companion in the world, that
forced and cynical gaiety, that bravery which might have been
termed blind if it had not been the result of the rarest
coolness-such qualities attracted more than the esteem, more than
the friendship of D''Artagnan; they attracted his admiration.
Indeed, when placed beside M. de Treville, the elegant and noble
courtier, Athos in his most cheerful days might advantageously
sustain a comparison. He was of middle height; but his person
was so admirably shaped and so well proportioned that more than
once in his struggles with Porthos he had overcome the giant
whose physical strength was proverbial among the Musketeers. His
head, with piercing eyes, a straight nose, a chim cut like that
of Brutus, had altogether an indefinable character of grandeur
and grace. His hands, of which he took little care, were the
despair of Aramis, who cultivated his with almond paste and
perfumed oil. The sound of his voice was at once penetrating and
melodious; and then, that which was inconceivable in Athos, who
was always retiring, was that delicate knowledge of the world and
of the usages of the most brilliant society-those manners of a
high degree which appeared, as if unconsciously to himself, in
his least actions.
If a repast were on foot, Athos presided over it better than any
other, placing every guest exactly in the rank which his
ancestors had earned for him or that he had made for himself. If
a question in heraldry were started, Athos knew all the noble
families of the kingdom, their genealogy, their alliances, their
coats of arms, and the origin of them. Etiquette had no minutiae
unknown to him. He knew what were the rights of the great land
owners. He was profoundly versed in hunting and falconry, and
had one day when conversing on this great art astonished even
Louis XIII himself, who took a pride in being considered a past
master therein.
Like all the great nobles of that period, Athos rode and fenced
to perfection. But still further, his education had been so
little neglected, even with respect to scholastic studies, so
rare at this time among gentlemen, that he smiled at the scraps
of Latin which Aramis sported and which Porthos pretended to
understand. Two or three times, even, to the great astonishment
of his friends, he had, when Aramis allowed some rudimental error
to escape him, replaced a verb in its right tense and a noun in
its case. Besides, his probity was irreproachable, in an age in
which soldiers compromised so easily with their religion and
their consciences, lovers with the rigorous delicacy of our era,
and the poor with God''s Seventh Commandment. This Athos, then,
was a very extraordinary man.
And yet this nature so distinguished, this creature so beautiful,
this essence so fine, was seen to turn insensibly toward material
like, as old men turn toward physical and moral imbecility.
Athos, in his hours of gloom-and these hours were frequent-was
extinguished as to the whole of the luminous portion of him, and
his brilliant side disappeared as into profound darkness.
Then the demigod vanished; he remained scarcely a man. His head
hanging down, his eye dull, his speech slow and painful, Athos
would look for hours together at his bottle, his glass, or at
Grimaud, who, accustomed to obey him by signs, read in the faint
glance of his master his least desire, and satisfied it
immediately. If the four friends were assembled at one of these
moments, a word, thrown forth occasionally with a violent effort,
was the share Athos furnished to the conversation. In exchange
for his silence Athos drank enough for four, and without
appearing to be otherwise affected by wine than by a more marked
constriction of the brow and by a deeper sadness.
D''Artagnan, whose inquiring disposition we are acquainted with,
had not-whatever interest he had in satisfying his curiosity on
this subject-been able to assign any cause for these fits of for
the periods of their recurrence. Athos never received any
letters; Athos never had concerns which all his friends did not
know.
It could not be said that it was wine which produced this
sadness; for in truth he only drank to combat this sadness, which
wine however, as we have said, rendered still darker. This
excess of bilious humor could not be attributed to play; for
unlike Porthos, who accompanied the variations of chance with
songs or oaths, Athos when he won remained as unmoved as when he
lost. He had been known, in the circle of the Musketeers, to win
in one night three thousand pistoles; to lose them even to the
gold-embroidered belt for gala days, win all this again with the
ad***ion of a hundred louis, without his beautiful eyebrow being
heightened or lowered half a line, without his hands losing their
pearly hue, without his conversation, which was cheerful that
evening, ceasing to be calm and agreeable.
Neither was it, as with our neighbors, the English, an
atmospheric influence which darkened his countenance; for the
sadness generally became more intense toward the fine season of
the year. June and July were the terrible months with Athos.
For the present he had no anxiety. He shrugged his shoulders
when people spoke of the feature. His secret, then, was in the
past, as had often been vaguely said to D''Artagnan.
This mysterious shade, spread over his whole person, rendered
still more interesting the man whose eyes or mouth, even in the
most complete intoxication, had never revealed anything, however
skillfully questions had been put to him.
"Well," thought D''Artagnan, "poor Athos is perhaps at this moment
dead, and dead by my fault-for it was I who dragged him into this
affair, of which he did not know the origin, of which he is
ignorant of the result, and from which he can derive no
advantage."
"Without reckoning, monsieur," added Planchet to his master''s
audibly expressed reflections, "that we perhaps owe our lives to
him. Do you remember how he cried, ''On, D''Artagnan, on, I am
taken''? And when he had discharged his two pistols, what a
terrible noise he made with his sword! One might have said that
twenty men, or rather twenty mad devils, were fighting."
These words redoubled the eagerness of D''Artagnan, who urged his
horse, though he stood in need of no incitement, and they
proceeded at a rapid pace. About eleven o''clock in the morning
they perceived Ameins, and at half past eleven they were at the
door of the cursed inn.
D''Artagnan had often me***ated against the perfidious host one of
those hearty vengeances which offer consolation while they are
hoped for. He entered the hostelry with his hat pulled over his
eyes, his left hand on the pommel of the sword, and cracking his
whip with his right hand.
"Do you remember me?" said he to the host, who advanced to greet
him.
"I have not that honor, monseigneur," replied the latter, his
eyes dazzled by the brilliant style in which D''Artagnan traveled.
"What, you don''t know me?"
"No, monseigneur."
"Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you done
with that gentleman against whom you had the audacity, about
twelve days ago, to make an accusation of passing false money?"
The host became as pale as death; for D''Artagnan had assumed a
threatening attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after his
master.
"Ah, monseigneur, do not mention it!" cried the host, in the most
pitiable voice imaginable. "Ah, monseigneur, how dearly have I
paid for that fault, unhappy wretch as I am!"
"That gentleman, I say, what has become of him?"
"Deign to listen to me, monseigneur, and be merciful! Sit down,
in mercy!"
D''Artagnan, mute with anger and anxiety, took a seat in the
threatening attitude of a judge. Planchet glared fiercely over
the back of his armchair.
"Here is the story, monseigneur," resumed the trembling host;
"for I now recollect you. It was you who rode off at the moment
I had that unfortunate difference with the gentleman you speak
of."
"Yes, it was I; so you may plainly perceive that you have no
mercy to expect of you do not tell me the whole truth."
"Condescend to listen to me, and you shall know all."
"I listen."
"I had been warned by the authorities that a celebrated coiner of
bad money would arrive at my inn, with several of his companions,
all disguised as Guards or Musketeers. Monseigneur, I was
furnished with a description of your horses, your lackeys, your
countenances-nothing was omitted."
"Go on, go on!" said D''Artagnan, who quickly understood whence
such an exact description had come.
"I took then, in conformity with the orders of the authorities,
who sent me a reinforcement of six men, such measures as I
thought necessary to get possession of the persons of the
pretended coiners."
"Again!" said D''Artagnan, whose ears chafed terribly under the
repetition of this word COINERs.
"Pardon me, monseigneur, for saying such things, but they form my
excuse. The authorities had terrified me, and you know that an
innkeeper must keep on good terms with the authorities."
"But once again, that gentleman-where is he? What has become of
him? Is he dead? Is he living?"
"Patience, monseigneur, we are coming to it. There happened then
that which you know, and of which your precipitate departure,"
added the host, with an acuteness that did not escape D''Artagnan,
"appeared to authorize the issue. That gentleman, your friend,
defended himself desperately. His lackey, who, by an unforeseen
piece of ill luck, had quarreled with the officers, disguised as
stable lads-"
"Miserable scoundrel!" cried D''Artagnan, "you were all in the
plot, then! And I really don''t know what prevents me from
exterminating you all."
"Alas, monseigneur, we were not in the plot, as you will soon
see. Monsieur your friend (pardon for not calling him by the
honorable name which no doubt he bears, but we do not know that
name), Monsieur your friend, having disabled two men with his
pistols, retreated fighting with his sword, with which he disable
one of my men, and stunned me with a blow of the flat side of
it."
"You villian, will you finish?" cried D''Artagnan, "Athos-what has
become of Athos?"
"While fighting and retreating, as I have told Monseigneur, he
found the door of the cellar stairs behind him, and as the door
was open, he took out the key, and barricaded himself inside. As
we were sure of finding him there, we left him alone."
"Yes," said D''Artagnan, "you did not really wish to kill; you
only wished to imprison him."
"Good God! To imprison him, monseigneur? Why, he imprisoned
himself, I swear to you he did. In the first place he had made
rough work of it; one man was killed on the spot, and two others
were severely wounded. The dead man and the two wounded were
carried off by their comrades, and I have heard nothing of either
of them since. As for myself, as soon as I recovered my senses I
went to Monsieur the Governor, to whom I related all that had
passed, and asked, what I should do with my prisoner. Monsieur
the Governor was all astonishment. He told me he knew nothing
about the matter, that the orders I had received did not come
from him, and that if I had the audacity to mention his name as
being concerned in this disturbance he would have me hanged. It
appears that I had made a mistake, monsieur, that I had arrested
the wrong person, and that he whom I ought to have arrested had
escaped."
"But Athos!" cried D''Artagnan, whose impatience was increased by
the disregard of the authorities, "Athos, where is he?"
"As I was anxious to repair the wrongs I had done the prisoner,"
resumed the innkeeper, "I took my way straight to the cellar in
order to set him at liberty. Ah, monsieur, he was no longer a
man, he was a devil! To my offer of liberty, he replied that it
was nothing but a snare, and that before he came out he intended
to impose his own con***ions. I told him very humbly-for I could
not conceal from myself the scrape I had got into by laying hands
on one of his Majesty''s Musketeers-I told him I was quite ready
*****bmit to his con***ions.
"''In the first place,'' said he, ''I wish my lackey placed with me,
fully armed.'' We hastened to obey this order; for you will
please to understand, monsieur, we were disposed to do everything
your friend could desire. Monsieur Grimaud (he told us his name,
although he does not talk much)-Monsieur Grimaud, then, went down
to the cellar, wounded as he was; then his master, having
admitted him, barricaded the door afresh, and ordered us to
remain quietly in our own bar."
"But where is Athos now?" cried D''Artagnan. "Where is Athos?"
"In the cellar, monsieur."
"What, you scoundrel! Have you kept him in the cellar all this
time?"
"Merciful heaven! No, monsieur! We keep him in the cellar! You
do not know what he is about in the cellar. Ah! If you could
but persuade him to come out, monsieur, I should owe you the
gratitude of my whole life; I should adore you as my patron
saint!"
"Then he is there? I shall find him there?"
"Without doubt you will, monsieur; he persists in remaining
there. We every day pass through the air hole some bread at the
end of a fork, and some meat when he asks for it; but alas! It
is not of bread and meat of which he makes the greatest
consumption. I once endeavored to go down with two of my
servants; but he flew into terrible rage. I heard the noise he
made in loading his pistols, and his servant in loading his
musketoon. Then, when we asked them what were their intentions,
the master replied that he had forty charges to fire, and that he
and his lackey would fire to the last one before he would allow a
single soul of us to set foot in the cellar. Upon this I went
and complained to the governor, who replied that I only had what
I deserved, and that it would teach me to insult honorable
gentlemen who took up their abode in my house."
"So that since that time-" replied D''Artagnan, totally unable to
refrain from laughing at the pitiable face of the host.
"So from that time, monsieur," continued the latter, "we have led
the most miserable life imaginable; for you must know, monsieur,
that all our provisions are in the cellar. There is our wine in
bottles, and our wine in casks; the beer, the oil, and the
spices, the bacon, and sausages. And as we are prevented from
going down there, we are forced to refuse food and drink to the
travelers who come to the house; so that our hostelry is daily
going to ruin. If your friend remains another week in my cellar
I shall be a ruined man."
"And not more than justice, either, you ass! Could you not
perceive by our appearance that we were people of quality, and
not coiners-say?"
"Yes, monsieur, you are right," said the host. "But, hark, hark!
There he is!"
"Somebody has disturbed him, without doubt," said D''Artagnan.
"But he must be disturbed," cried the host; "Here are two English
gentlemen just arrived."
"well?"
"Well, the English like good wine, as you may know, monsieur;
these have asked for the best. My wife has perhaps requested
permission of Monsieur Athos to go into the cellar to satisfy
these gentlemen; and he, as usual, has refused. Ah, good heaven!
There is the hullabaloo louder than ever!"
D''Artagnan, in fact, heard a great noise on the side next the
cellar. He rose, and preceded by the host wringing his hands,
and followed by Planchet with his musketoon ready for use, he
approached the scene of action.
The two gentlemen were exasperated; they had had a long ride, and
were dying with hunger and thirst.
"But this is tyranny!" cried one of them, in very good French,
though with a foreign accent, "that this madman will not allow
these good people access to their own wine! Nonsense, let us
break open the door, and if he is too far gone in his madness,
well, we will kill him!"
"Softly, gentlemen!" said D''Artagnan, drawing his pistols from
his belt, "you will kill nobody, if you please!"
"Good, good!" cried the calm voice of Athos, from the other side
of the door, "let them just come in, these devourers of little
children, and we shall see!"
Brave as they appeared to be, the two English gentlemen looked at
each other hesitatingly. One might have thought there was in
that cellar one of those famished ogres--the gigantic heroes of
popular legends, into whose ****rn nobody could force their way
with impunity.
There was a moment of silence; but at length the two Englishmen
felt ashamed to draw back, and the angrier one descended the five
or six steps which led to the cellar, and gave a kick against the
door enough to split a wall.
"Planchet," said D''Artagnan, ****ing his pistols, "I will take
charge of the one at the top; you look to the one below. Ah,
gentlemen, you want battle; and you shall have it."
"Good God!" cried the hollow voice of Athos, "I can hear
D''Artagnan, I think."
"Yes," cried D''Artagnan, raising his voice in turn, "I am here,
my friend."
"Ah, good, then," replied Athos, "we will teach them, these door
breakers!"
The gentlemen had drawn their swords, but they found themselves
take between two fires. They still hesitated an instant; but, as
before, pride prevailed, and a second kick split the door from
bottom to top.
"Stand on one side, D''Artagnan, stand on one side," cried Athos.
"I am going to fire!"
"Gentlemen," exclaimed D''Artagnan, whom reflection never
abandoned, "gentlemen, think of what you are about. Patience,
Athos! You are running your heads into a very silly affair; you
will be riddled. My lackey and I will have three shots at you,
and you will get as many from the cellar. You will then have out
swords, with which, I can assure you, my friend and I can play
tolerably well. Let me conduct your business and my own. You
shall soon have something to drink; I give you my word."
"If there is any left," grumbled the jeering voice of Athos.
The host felt a cold sweat creep down his back.
"How! ''If there is any left!" murmured he.
"What the devil! There must be plenty left," replied D''Artagnan.
"Be satisfied of that; these two cannot have drunk all the
cellar. Gentlemen, return your swords to their scabbards."
"Well, provided you replace your pistols in your belt."
"Willingly."
And D''Artagnan set the example. Then, turning toward Planchet,
he made him a sign to un**** his musketoon.
The Englishmen, convinced of these peaceful proceedings, sheathed
their swords grumblingly. The history of Athos''s imprisonment
was then related to them; and as they were really gentlemen, they
pronounced the host in the wrong.
"Now, gentlemen," said D''Artagnan, "go up to your room again; and
in ten minutes, I will answer for it, you shall have all you
desire."
The Englishmen bowed and went upstairs.
"Now I am alone, my dear Athos," said D''Artagnan; "open the door,
I beg of you."
"Instantly," said Athos.
Then was heard a great noise of fagots being removed and of the
groaning of posts; these were the counterscarps and bastions of
Athos, which the besieged himself demolished.
An instant after, the broken door was removed, and the pale face
of Athos appeared, who with a rapid glance took a survey of the
surroundings.
D''Artagnan threw himself on his neck and embraced him tenderly.
He then tried to draw him from his moist abode, but to his
surprise he perceived that Athos staggered.
"You are wounded," said he.
"I! Not at all. I am dead drunk, that''s all, and never did a
man more strongly set about getting so. By the Lord, my good
host! I must at least have drunk for my part a hundred and fifty
bottles."
"Mercy!" cried the host, "if the lackey has drunk only half as
much as the master, I am a ruined man."
"Grimaud is a well-bred lackey. He would never think of faring
in the same manner as his master; he only drank from the cask.
Hark! I don''t think he put the faucet in again. Do you hear it?
It is running now."
D''Artagnan burst into a laugh which changed the shiver of the
host into a burning fever.
In the meantime, Grimaud appeared in his turn behind his master,
with the musketoon on his shoulder, and his head shaking. Like
one of those drunken satyrs in the pictures of Rubens. He was
moistened before and behind with a greasy liquid which the host
recognized as his best olive oil.
The four crossed the public room and proceeded to take possession
of the best apartment in the house, which D''Artagnan occupied
with authority.
In the meantime the host and his wife hurried down with lamps
into the cellar, which had so long been interdicted to them and
where a frightful spectacle awaited them.
Beyond the fortifications through which Athos had made a breach
in order to get out, and which were composed of fagots, planks,
and empty casks, heaped up according to all the rules of the
strategic art, they found, swimming in puddles of oil and wine,
the bones and fragments of all the hams they had eaten; while a
heap of broken bottles filled the whole left-hand corner of the
cellar, and a tun, the **** of which was left running, was
yielding, by this means, the last drop of its blood. "The image
of devastation and death," as the ancient poet says, "reigned as
over a field of battle."
Of fifty large sausages, suspended from the joists, scarcely ten
remained.
Then the lamentations of the host and hostess pierced the vault
of the cellar. D''Artagnan himself was moved by them. Athos did
not even turn his head.
To grief succeeded rage. The host armed himself with a spit, and
rushed into the chamber occupied by the two friends.
"Some wine!" said Athos, on perceiving the host.
"Some wine!" cried the stupefied host, "some wine? Why you have
drunk more than a hundred pistoles'' worth! I am a ruined man,
lost, destroyed!"
"Bah," said Athos, "we were always dry."
"If you had been contented with drinking, well and good; but you
have broken all the bottles."
"You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was your
fault."
"All my oil is lost!"
"Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here was
obliged to dress those you had inflicted on him."
"All my sausages are gnawed!"
"There is an enormous quantity of rats in that cellar."
"You shall pay me for all this," cried the exasperated host.
"Triple ass!" said Athos, rising; but he sank down again
immediately. He had tried his strength to the utmost.
D''Artagnan came to his relief with his whip in his hand.
The host drew back and burst into tears.
"This will teach you," said D''Artagnan, "to treat the guests God
sends you in a more courteous fashion."
"God? Say the devil!"
"My dear friend," said D''Artagnan, "if you annoy us in this
manner we will all four go and shut ourselves up in your cellar,
and we will see if the mischief is as great as you say."
"Oh, gentlemen," said the host, "I have been wrong. I confess
it, but pardon to every sin! You are gentlemen, and I am a poor
innkeeper. You will have pity on me."
"Ah, if you speak in that way," said Athos, "you will break my
heart, and the tears will flow from my eyes as the wine flowed
from the cask. We are not such devils as we appear to be. Come
hither, and let us talk."
The host approached with hesitation.
"Come hither, I say, and don''t be afraid," continued Athos. "At
the very moment when I was about to pay you, I had placed my
purse on the table."
"Yes, monsieur."
"That purse contained sixty pistoles; where is it?"
"Deposited with the justice; they said it was bad money."
"Very well; get me my purse back and keep the sixty pistoles."
"But Monseigneur knows very well that justice never lets go that
which it once lays hold of. If it were bad money, there might be
some hopes; but unfortunately, those were all good pieces."
"Manage the matter as well as you can, my good man; it does not
concern me, the more so as I have not a livre left."
"Come," said D''Artagnan, "let us inquire further. Athos''s horse,
where is that?"
"In the stable."
"How much is it worth?"
"Fifty pistoles at most."
"It''s worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter."
"What," cried Athos, "are you selling my horse--my Bajazet? And
pray upon what shall I make my campaign; upon Grimaud?"
"I have brought you another," said D''Artagnan.
"Another?"
"And a magnificent one!" cried the host.
"Well, since there is another finer and younger, why, you may
take the old one; and let us drink."
"What?" asked the host, quite cheerful again.
"Some of that at the bottom, near the laths. There are twenty-
five bottles of it left; all the rest were broken by my fall.
Bring six of them."
"Why, this man is a cask!" said the host, aside. "If he only
remains here a fortnight, and pays for what he drinks, I shall
soon re-establish my business."
"And don''t forget," said D''Artagnan, "to bring up four bottles of
the same sort for the two English gentlemen."
"And now," said Athos, "while they bring the wine, tell me,
D''Artagnan, what has become of the others, come!"
D''Artagnan related how he had found Porthos in bed with a
strained knee, and Aramis at a table between two theologians. As
he finished, the host entered with the wine ordered and a ham
which, fortunately for him, had been left out of the cellar.
"That''s well!" said Athos, filling his glass and that of his
friend; "here''s to Porthos and Aramis! But you, D''Artagnan, what
is the matter with you, and what has happened to you personally?
You have a sad air."
"Alas," said D''Artagnan, "it is because I am the most
unfortunate? Tell me."
"Presently," said D''Artagnan.
"Presently! And why presently? Because you think I am drunk?
D''Artagnan, remember this! My ideas are never so clear as when I
have had plenty of wine. Speak, then, I am all ears."
D''Artagnan related his adventure with Mme. Bonacieux. Athos
listened to him without a frown; and when he had finished, said,
"Trifles, only trifles!" That was his favorite word.
"You always say TRIFLES, my dear Athos!" said D''Artagnan, "and
that come very ill from you, who have never loved."
The drink-deadened eye of Athos flashed out, but only for a
moment; it became as dull and vacant as before.
"That''s true," said he, quietly, "for my part I have never
loved."
"Acknowledge, then, you stony heart," said D''Artagnan, "that you
are wrong to be so hard upon us tender hearts."
"Tender hearts! Pierced hearts!" said Athos.
"What do you say?"
"I say that love is a lottery in which he who wins, wins death!
You are very fortunate to have lost, believe me, my dear
D''Artagnan. And if I have any counsel to give, it is, always
lose!"
"She seemed to love me so!"
"She SEEMED, did she?"
"Oh, she DID love me!"
"You child, why, there is not a man who has not believed, as you
do, that his mistress loved him, and there lives not a man who
has not been deceived by his mistress."
"Except you, Athos, who never had one."
"That''s true," said Athos, after a moment''s silence, "that''s
true! I never had one! Let us drink!"
"But then, philosopher that you are," said D''Artagnan, "instruct
me, support me. I stand in need of being taught and consoled."
"Consoled for what?"
"For my misfortune."
"Your misfortune is laughable," said Athos, shrugging his
shoulders; "I should like to know what you would say if I were to
relate to you a real tale of love!"
"Which has happened to you?"
"Or one of my friends, what matters?"
"Tell it, Athos, tell it."
"Better if I drink."
"Drink and relate, then."
"Not a bad idea!" said Athos, emptying and refilling his glass.
"The two things agree marvelously well."
"I am all attention," said D''Artagnan.
Athos collected himself, and in proportion as he did so,
D''Artagnan saw that he became pale. He was at that period of
intoxication in which vulgar drinkers fall and sleep. He kept
himself upright and dreamed, without sleeping. This somnambulism
of drunkenness had something frightful in it.
"You particularly wish it?" asked he.
"I pray for it," said D''Artagnan.
"Be it then as you desire. One of my friends--one of my friends,
please to observe, not myself," said Athos, interrupting himself
with a melancholy smile, "one of the counts of my province--that
is to say, of Berry--noble as a Dandolo or a Montmorency, at
twenty-five years of age fell in love with a girl of sixteen,
beautiful as fancy can paint. Through the ingenuousness of her
age beamed an ardent mind, not of the woman, but of the poet.
She did not please; she intoxicated. She lived in a small town
with her brother, who was a curate. Both had recently come into
the country. They came nobody knew whence; but when seeing her
so lovely and her brother so pious, nobody thought of asking
whence they came. They were said, however, to be of good
extraction. My friend, who was seigneur of the country, might
have seduced her, or taken her by force, at his will--for he was
master. Who would have come to the assistance of two strangers,
two unknown persons? Unfortunately he was an honorable man; he
married her. The fool! The ass! The idiot!"
"How so, if he love her?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Wait," said Athos. "He took her to his chateau, and made her
the first lady in the province; and in justice it must be allowed
that she supported her rank becomingly."
"Well?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Well, one day when she was hunting with her husband," continued
Athos, in a low voice, and speaking very quickly," she fell from
her horse and fainted. The count flew to her to help, and as she
appeared to be oppressed by her clothes, he ripped them open with
his poinard, and in so doing laid bare her shoulder.
D''Artagnan," said Athos, with a maniacal burst of laughter,
"guess what she had on her shoulder."
"How can I tell?" said D''Artagnan.
"A FLEUR-DE-LIS," said Athos. "She was branded."
Athos emptied at a single draught the glass he held in his hand.
"Horror!" cried D''Artagnan. "What do you tell me?"
"Truth, my friend. The angel was a demon; the poor young girl
had stolen the sacred vessels from a church."
"And what did the count do?"
"The count was of the highest nobility. He had on his estates
the rights of high and low tribunals. He tore the dress of the
countess to pieces; he tied her hands behind her, and hanged her
on a tree."
"Heavens, Athos, a murder?" cried D''Artagnan.
"No less," said Athos, as pale as a corpse. "But methinks I need
wine!" and he seized by the neck the last bottle that was left,
put it to his mouth, and emptied it at a single draught, as he
would have emptied an ordinary glass.
Then he let his head sink upon his two hands, while D''Artagnan
stood before him, stupefied.
"That has cured me of beautiful, poetical, and loving women,"
said Athos, after a considerable pause, raising his head, and
forgetting to continue the fiction of the count. "God grant you
as much! Let us drink."
"Then she is dead?" stammered D''Artagnan.
"PARBLEU!" said Athos. "But hold out your glass. Some ham, my
boy, or we can''t drink."
"And her brother?" added D''Artagnan, timidly.
"Her brother?" replied Athos.
"Yes, the priest."
"Oh, I inquired after him for the purpose of hanging him
likewise; but he was beforehand with me, he had quit the curacy
the night before."
"Was it ever known who this miserable fellow was?"
"He was doubtless the first lover and accomplice of the fair
lady. A worthy man, who had pretended to be a curate for the
purpose of getting his mistress married, and securing her a
position. He has been hanged and quartered, I hope."
"My God, my God!" cried D''Artagnan, quite stunned by the relation
of this horrible adventure.
"Taste some of this ham, D''Artagnan; it is exquisite," said
Athos, cutting a slice, which he placed on the young man''s plate.
"What a pity it is there were only four like this in the cellar.
I could have drunk fifty bottles more."
D''Artagnan could no longer endure this conversation, which had
made him bewildered. Allowing his head to sink upon his two
hands, he pretended to sleep.
"These young fellows can none of them drink," said Athos, looking
at him with pity, "and yet this is one of the best!"

28 THE RETURN
D''Artagnan was astounded by the terrible confidence of Athos; yet
many things appeared very obscure to him in this half revelation.
In the first place it had been made by a man quite drunk to one
who was half drunk; and yet, in spite of the incertainty which
the vapor of three or four bottles of Burgundy carries with it to
the brain, D''Artagnan, when awaking on the following morning, had
all the words of Athos as present to his memory as if they then
fell from his mouth--they had been so impressed upon his mind.
All this doubt only gave rise to a more lively desire of arriving
at a certainty, and he went into his friend''s chamber with a
fixed determination of renewing the conversation of the preceding
evening; but he found Athos quite himself again--that is to say,
the most shrewd and impenetrable of men. Besides which, the
Musketeer, after having exchanged a hearty shake of the hand with
him, broached the matter first.
"I was pretty drunk yesterday, D''Artagnan," said he, "I can tell
that by my tongue, which was swollen and hot this morning, and by
my pulse, which was very tremulous. I wager that I uttered a
thousand extravagances."
While saying this he looked at his friend with an earnestness
that embarrassed him.
"No," replied D''Artagnan, "if I recollect well what you said, it
was nothing out of the common way."
"Ah, you surprise me. I thought I had told you a most lamentable
story." And he looked at the young man as if he would read the
bottom of his heart.
"My faith," said D''Artagnan, "it appears that I was more drunk
than you, since I remember nothing of the kind."
Athos did not trust this reply, and he resumed; "you cannot have
failed to remark, my dear friend, that everyone has his
particular kind of drunkenness, sad or gay. My drunkenness is
always sad, and when I am thoroughly drunk my mania is to relate
all the lugubrious stories which my foolish nurse inculcated into
my brain. That is my failing--a capital failing, I admit; but
with that exception, I am a good drinker."
Athos spoke this in so natural a manner that D''Artagnan was
shaken in his conviction.
"It is that, then," replied the young man, anxious to find out
the truth, "it is that, then, I remember as we remember a dream.
We were speaking of hanging."
"Ah, you see how it is," said Athos, becoming still paler, but
yet attempting to laugh; "I was sure it was so--the hanging of
people is my nightmare."
"Yes, yes," replied D''Artagnan. "I remember now; yes, it was
about--stop a minute--yes, it was about a woman."
"That''s it," replied Athos, becoming almost livid; "that is my
grand story of the fair lady, and when I relate that, I must be
very drunk."
"Yes, that was it," said D''Artagnan, "the story of a tall, fair
lady, with blue eyes."
"Yes, who was hanged."
"By her husband, who was a nobleman of your acquaintance,"
continued D''Artagnan, looking intently at Athos.
"Well, you see how a man may compromise himself when he does not
know what he says," replied Athos, shrugging his shoulders as if
he thought himself an object of pity. "I certainly never will
get drunk again, D''Artagnan; it is too bad a habit."
D''Artagnan remained silent; and then changing the conversation
all at once, Athos said:
"By the by, I thank you for the horse you have brought me."
"Is it to your mind?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Yes; but it is not a horse for hard work."
"you are mistaken; I rode him nearly ten leagues in less than an
hour and a half, and he appeared no more distressed than if he
had only made the tour of the Place St. Sulpice."
"Ah, you begin to awaken my regret."
"Regret?"
"Yes; I have parted with him."
"How?"
"Why, here is the simple fact. This morning I awoke at six
o''clock. You were still fast asleep, and I did not know what to
do with myself; I was still stupid from our yesterday''s debauch.
As I came into the public room, I saw one of our Englishman
bargaining with a dealer for a horse, his own having died
yesterday from bleeding. I drew near, and found he was bidding a
hundred pistoles for a chestnut nag. ''PARDIEU,'' said I, ''my good
gentleman, I have a horse to sell, too.'' ''Ay, and a very fine
one! I saw him yesterday; your friend''s lackey was leading him.''
''Do you think he is worth a hundred pistoles?'' ''Yes! Will you
sell him to me for that sum?'' ''No; but I will play for him.''
''What?'' ''At dice.'' No sooner said than done, and I lost the
horse. Ah, ah! But please to observe I won back the equipage,''
cried Athos.
D''Artagnan looked much disconcerted.
"This vexes you?" said Athos.
"Well, I must confess it does," replied D''Artagnan. "That horse
was to have identified us in the day of battle. It was a pledge,
a remembrance. Athos, you have done wrong."
"But, my dear friend, put yourself in my place," replied the
Musketeer. "I was hipped to death; and still further, upon my
honor, I don''t like English horses. If it is only to be
recognized, why the saddle will suffice for that; it is quite
remarkable enough. As to the horse, we can easily find some
excuse for its disappearance. Why the devil! A horse is mortal;
suppose mine had had the glanders or the farcy?"
D''Artagnan did not smile.
"It vexes me greatly," continued Athos, "that you attach so much
importance to these animals, for I am not yet at the end of my
story."
"What else have you done."
"After having lost my own horse, nine against ten--see how near--
I formed an idea of staking yours."
"Yes; but you stopped at the idea, I hope?"
"No; for I put it in execution that very minute."
"And the consequence?" said D''Artagnan, in great anxiety.
"I threw, and I lost."
"What, my horse?"
"Your horse, seven against eight; a point short--you know the
proverb."
"Athos, you are not in your right senses, I swear."
"My dear lad, that was yesterday, when I was telling you silly
stories, it was proper to tell me that, and not this morning. I
lost him then, with all his appointments and furniture."
"Really, this is frightful."
"Stop a minute; you don''t know all yet. I should make an
excellent gambler if I were not too hot-headed; but I was hot-
headed, just as if I had been drinking. Well, I was not hot-
headed then--"
"Well, but what else could you play for? You had nothing left?"
''Oh, yes, my friend; there was still that diamond left which
sparkles on your finger, and which I had observed yesterday."
"This diamond!" said D''Artagnan, placing his hand eagerly on his
ring.
"And as I am a connoisseur in such things, having had a few of my
own once, I estimated it at a thousand pistoles."
"I hope," said D''Artagnan, half dead with fright, "you made no
mention of my diamond?"
"On the contrary, my dear friend, this diamond became our only
resource; with it I might regain our horses and their harnesses,
and even money to pay our expenses on the road."
"Athos, you make me tremble!" cried D''Artagnan.
"I mentioned your diamond then to my adversary, who had likewise
remarked it. What the devil, my dear, do you think you can wear
a star from heaven on your finger, and nobody observe it?
Impossible!"
"Go on, go on, my dear fellow!" said D''Artagnan; "for upon my
honor, you will kill me with your indifference."
"We divided, then, this diamond into ten parts of a hundred
pistoles each."
"You are laughing at me, and want to try me!" said D''Artagnan,
whom anger began to take by the hair, as Minerva takes Achilles,
in the ILLIAD.
"No, I do not jest, MORDIEU! I should like to have seen you in
my place! I had been fifteen days without seeing a human face,
and had been left to brutalize myself in the company of bottles."
"That was no reason for staking my diamond!" replied D''Artagnan,
closing his hand with a nervous spasm.
"Hear the end. Ten parts of a hundred pistoles each, in ten
throws, without revenge; in thirteen throws I had lost all--in
thirteen throws. The number thirteen was always fatal to me; it
was on the thirteenth of July that--"
"VENTREBLEU!" cried D''Artagnan, rising from the table, the story
of the present day making him forget that of the preceding one.
"Patience!" said Athos; "I had a plan. The Englishman was an
original; I had seen him conversing that morning with Grimaud,
and Grimaud had told me that he had made him proposals to enter
into his service. I staked Grimaud, the silent Grimaud, divided
into ten portions."
"Well, what next?" said D''Artagnan, laughing in spite of himself.
"Grimaud himself, understand; and with the ten parts of Grimaud,
which are not worth a ducatoon, I regained the diamond. Tell me,
now, if persistence is not a virtue?"
"My faith! But this is droll," cried D''Artagnan, consoled, and
holding his sides with laughter.
"You may guess, finding the luck turned, that I again staked the
diamond."
"The devil!" said D''Artagnan, becoming angry again.
"I won back your harness, then your horse, then my harness, then
my horse, and then I lost again. In brief, I regained your
harness and then mine. That''s where we are. That was a superb
throw, so I left off there."
D''Artagnan breathed as if the whole hostelry had been removed
from his breast.
"Then the diamond is safe?" said he, timidly.
"Intact, my dear friend; besides the harness of your Bucephalus
and mine."
"But what is the use of harnesses without horses?"
"I have an idea about them."
"Athos, you make me shudder."
"Listen to me. You have not played for a long time, D''Artagnan."
"And I have no inclination to play."
"Swear to nothing. You have not played for a long time, I said;
you ought, then, to have a good hand."
"Well, what then?"
"Well; the Englishman and his companion are still here. I
remarked that he regretted the horse furniture very much. You
appear to think much of your horse. In your place I would stake
the furniture against the horse."
"But he will not wish for only one harness."
"Stake both, PARDIEU! I am not selfish, as you are."
"You would do so?" said D''Artagnan, undecided, so strongly did
the confidence of Athos begin to prevail, in spite of himself.
"On my honor, in one single throw."
"But having lost the horses, I am particularly anxious to
preserve the harnesses."
"Stake your diamond, then."
"This? That''s another matter. Never, never!"
"The devil!" said Athos. "I would propose to you to stake
Planchet, but as that has already been done, the Englishman would
not, perhaps, be willing."
"Decidedly, my dear Athos," said D''Artagnan, "I should like
better not to risk anything."
"That''s a pity," said Athos, cooly. "The Englishman is
overflowing with pistoles. Good Lord, try one throw! One throw
is soon made!"
"And if I lose?"
"You will win."
"But if I lose?"
"Well, you will surrender the harnesses."
"Have with you for one throw!" said D''Artagnan.
Athos went in quest of the Englishman, whom he found in the
stable, examining the harnesses with a greedy eye. The
opportunity was good. He proposed the con***ions--the two
harnesses, either against one horse or a hundred pistoles. The
Englishman calculated fast; the two harnesses were worth three
hundred pistoles. He consented.
D''Artagnan threw the dice with a trembling hand, and turned up
the number three; his paleness terrified Athos, who, however,
consented himself with saying, "That''s a sad throw, comrade; you
will have the horses fully equipped, monsieur."
The Englishman, quite triumphant, did not even give himself the
trouble to shake the dice. He threw them on the table without
looking at them, so sure was he of victory; D''Artagnan turned
aside to conceal his ill humor.
"Hold, hold, hold!" said Athos, wit his quiet tone; "that throw
of the dice is extraordinary. I have not seen such a one four
times in my life. Two aces!"
The Englishman looked, and was seized with astonishment.
D''Artagnan looked, and was seized with pleasure.
"Yes," continued Athos, "four times only; once at the house of
Monsieur Crequy; another time at my own house in the country, in
my chateau at--when I had a chateau; a third time at Monsieur de
Treville''s where it surprised us all; and the fourth time at a
cabaret, where it fell to my lot, and where I lost a hundred
louis and a supper on it."
"Then Monsieur takes his horse back again," said the Englishman.
"Certainly," said D''Artagnan.
"Then there is no revenge?"
"Our con***ions said, ''No revenge,'' you will please to
recollect."
"That is true; the horse shall be restored to your lackey,
monsieur."
"A moment," said Athos; "with your permission, monsieur, I wish
to speak a word with my friend."
"Say on."
Athos drew D''Artagnan aside.
"Well, Tempter, what more do you want with me?" said D''Artagnan.
"You want me to throw again, do you not?"
"No, I would wish you to reflect."
"On what?"
"You mean to take your horse?"
"Without doubt."
"You are wrong, then. I would take the hundred pistoles. You
know you have staked the harnesses against the horse or a hundred
pistoles, at your choice."
"Yes."
"Well, then, I repeat, you are wrong. What is the use of one
horse for us two? I could not ride behind. We should look like
the two sons of Anmon, who had lost their brother. You cannot
think of humiliating me by prancing along by my side on that
magnificent charger. For my part, I should not hesitate a
moment; I should take the hundred pistoles. We want money for
our return to Paris."
"I am much attached to that horse, Athos."
"And there again you are wrong. A horse slips and injures a
joint; a horse stumbles and breaks his knees to the bone; a horse
eats out of a manger in which a glandered horse has eaten. There
is a horse, while on the contrary, the hundred pistoles feed
their master."
"But how shall we get back?"
"Upon our lackey''s horses, PARDIEU. Anybody may see by our
bearing that we are people of con***ion."
"Pretty figures we shall cut on ponies while Aramis and Porthos
caracole on their steeds."
"Aramis! Porthos!" cried Athos, and laughed aloud.
"What is it?" asked D''Artagnan, who did not at all comprehend the
hilarity of his friend.
"Nothing, nothing! Go on!"
"Your advice, then?"
"To take the hundred pistoles, D''Artagnan. With the hundred
pistoles we can live well to the end of the month. We have
undergone a great deal of fatigue, remember, and a little rest
will do no harm."
"I rest? Oh, no, Athos. Once in Paris, I shall prosecute my
search for that unfortunate woman!"
"Well, you may be assured that your horse will not be half so
serviceable to you for that purpose as good golden louis. Take
the hundred pistoles, my friend; take the hundred pistoles!"
D''Artagnan only required one reason to be satisfied. This last
reason appeared convincing. Besides, he feared that by resisting
longer he should appear selfish in the eyes of Athos. He
acquiesced, therefore, and chose the hundred pistoles, which the
Englishman paid down on the spot.
They then determined to depart. Peace with the landlord, in
ad***ion to Athos''s old horse, cost six pistoles. D''Artagnan and
Athos took the nags of Planchet and Grimaud, and the two lackeys
started on foot, carrying the saddles on their heads.
However ill our two friends were mounted, they were soon far in
advance of their servants, and arrived at Creveccoeur. From a
distance they perceived Aramis, seated in a melancholy manner at
his window, looking out, like Sister Anne, at the dust in the
horizon.
"HOLA, Aramis! What the devil are you doing there?" cried the
two friends.
"Ah, is that you, D''Artagnan, and you, Athos?" said the young
man. "I was reflecting upon the rapi***y with which the
blessings of this world leave us. My English horse, which has
just disappeared amid a cloud of dust, has furnished me with a
living image of the fragility of the things of the earth. Life
itself may be resolved into three words: ERAT, EST, FUIT."
"Which means--" said D''Artagnan, who began *****spect the truth.
"Which means that I have just been duped-sixty louis for a horse
which by the manner of his gait can do at least five leagues an
hour."
D''Artagnan and Athos laughed aloud.
"My dear D''Artagnan," said Aramis, "don''t be too angry with me, I
beg. Necessity has no law; besides, I am the person punished, as
that rascally horsedealer has robbed me of fifty louis, at least.
Ah, you fellows are good managers! You ride on our lackey''s
horses, and have your own gallant steeds led along carefully by
hand, at short stages."
At the same instant a market cart, which some minutes before had
appeared upon the Amiens road, pulled up at the inn, and Planchet
and Grimaud came out of it with the saddles on their heads. The
cart was returning empty to Paris, and the two lackeys had
agreed, for their transport, to slake the wagoner''s thirst along
the route.
"What is this?" said Aramis, on seeing them arrive. "Nothing but
saddles?"
"Now do you understand?" said Athos.
"My friends, that''s exactly like me! I retained my harness by
instinct. HOLA, Bazin! Bring my new saddle and carry it along
with those of these gentlemen."
"And what have you done with your ecclesiastics?" asked
D''Artagnan.
"My dear fellow, I invited them to a dinner the next day,"
replied Aramis. "They have some capital wine here-please to
observe that in passing. I did my best to make them drunk. Then
the curate forbade me to quit my uniform, and the Jesuit
entreated me to get him made a Musketeer."
"Without a thesis?" cried D''Artagnan, "without a thesis? I
demand the suppression of the thesis."
"Since then," continued Aramis, "I have lived very agreeably. I
have begun a poem in verses of one syllable. That is rather
difficult, but the merit in all things consists in the
difficulty. The matter is gallant. I will read you the first
canto. It has four hundred lines, and lasts a minute."
"My faith, my dear Aramis," said D''Artagnan, who detested verses
almost as much as he did Latin, "add to the merit of the
difficulty that of the brevity, and you are sure that your poem
will at least have two merits."
"You will see," continued Aramis, "that it breathes
irreproachable passion. And so, my friends, we return to Paris?
Bravo! I am ready. We are going to rejoin that good fellow,
Porthos. So much the better. You can''t think how I have missed
him, the great simpleton. To see him so self-satisfied
reconciles me with myself. He would not sell his horse; not for
a kingdom! I think I can see him now, mounted upon his superb
animal and seated in his handsome saddle. I am sure he will look
like the Great Mogul!"
They made a halt for an hour to refresh their horses. Aramis
discharged his bill, placed Bazin in the cart with his comrades,
and they set forward to join Porthos.
They found him up, less pale than when D''Artagnan left him after
his first visit, and seated at a table on which, though he was
alone, was spread enough for four persons. This dinner consisted
of meats nicely dressed, choice wines, and superb fruit.
"Ah, PARDIEU!" said he, rising, "you come in the nick of time,
gentlemen. I was just beginning the soup, and you will dine with
me."
"Oh, oh!" said D''Artagnan, "Mousqueton has not caught these
bottles with his lasso. Besides, here is a piquant FRICANDEAU
and a fillet of beef."
"I am recruiting myself," said Porthos, "I am recruiting myself.
Nothing weakens a man more than these devilish strains. Did you
ever suffer from a strain, Athos?"
"Never! Though I remember, in our affair of the Rue Ferou, I
received a sword wound which at the end of fifteen or eighteen
days produced the same effect."
"But this dinner was not intended for you alone, Porthos?" said
Aramis.
"No," said Porthos, "I expected some gentlemen of the
neighborhood, who have just sent me word they could not come.
You will take their places and I shall not lose by the exchange.
HOLA, Mousqueton, seats, and order double the bottles!"
"Do you know what we are eating here?" said Athos, at the end of
ten minutes.
"PARDIEU!" replied D''Artagnan, "for my part, I am eating veal
garnished with shrimps and vegetables."
"And I some lamb chops," said Porthos.
"And I a plain chicken," said Aramis.
"You are all mistaken, gentlemen," answered Athos, gravely; "you
are eating horse."
"Eating what?" said D''Artagnan.
"Horse!" said Aramis, with a grimace of disgust.
Porthos alone made no reply.
"Yes, horse. Are we not eating a horse, Porthos? And perhaps
his saddle, therewith."
"No, gentlemen, I have kept the harness," said Porthos.
"My faith," said Aramis, "we are all alike. One would think we
had tipped the wink."
"What could I do?" said Porthos. "This horse made my visitors
ashamed of theirs, and I don''t like to humiliate people."
"Then your duchess is still at the waters?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Still," replied Porthos. "And, my faith, the governor of the
province--one of the gentlemen I expected today--seemed to have
such a wish for him, that I gave him to him."
"Gave him?" cried D''Artagnan.
"My God, yes, GAVE, that is the word," said Porthos; "for the
animal was worth at least a hundred and fifty louis, and the
stingy fellow would only give me eighty."
"Without the saddle?" said Aramis.
"Yes, without the saddle."
"You will observe, gentlemen," said Athos, "that Porthos has made
the best bargain of any of us."
And then commenced a roar of laughter in which they all joined,
to the astonishment of poor Porthos; but when he was informed of
the cause of their hilarity, he shared it vociferously according
to his custom.
"There is one comfort, we are all in cash," said D''Artagnan.
"Well, for my part," said Athos, "I found Aramis''s Spanish wine
so good that I sent on a hamper of sixty bottles of it in the
wagon with the lackeys. That has weakened my purse."
"And I," said Aramis, "imagined that I had given almost my last
sou to the church of Montdidier and the Jesuits of Amiens, with
whom I had made engagements which I ought to have kept. I have
ordered Masses for myself, and for you, gentlemen, which will be
said, gentlemen, for which I have not the least doubt you will be
marvelously benefited."
"And I," said Porthos, "do you think my strain cost me nothing?--
without reckoning Mousqueton''s wound, for which I had to have the
surgeon twice a day, and who charged me double on account of that
foolish Mousqueton having allowed himself a ball in a part which
people generally only show to an apothecary; so I advised him to
try never to get wounded there any more."
"Ay, ay!" said Athos, exchanging a smile with D''Artagnan and
Aramis, "it is very clear you acted nobly with regard to the poor
lad; that is like a good master."
"In short," said Porthos, "when all my expenses are paid, I shall
have, at most, thirty crowns left."
"And I about ten pistoles," said Aramis.
"Well, then it appears that we are the Croesuses of the society.
How much have you left of your hundred pistoles, D''Artagnan.?"
"Of my hundred pistoles? Why, in the first place I gave you
fifty."
"You think so?"
"PARDIEU!"
"Ah, that is true. I recollect."
"Then I paid the host six."
"What a brute of a host! Why did you give him six pistoles?"
"You told me to give them to him."
"It is true; I am too good-natured. In brief, how much remains?"
"Twenty-five pistoles," said D''Artagnan.
"And I," said Athos, taking some small change from his pocket,
I--"
"You? Nothing!"
"My faith! So little that it is not worth reckoning with the
general stock."
"Now, then, let us calculate how much we posses in all."
"Porthos?"
"Thirty crowns."
"Aramis?"
"Ten pistoles."
"And you, D''Artagnan?"
"Twenty-five."
"That makes in all?" said Athos.
"Four hundred and seventy-five livres," said D''Artagnan, who
reckoned like Archimedes.
"On our arrival in Paris, we shall still have four hundred,
besides the harnesses," said Porthos.
"But our troop horses?" said Aramis.
"Well, of the four horses of our lackeys we will make two for the
masters, for which we will draw lots. With the four hundred
livres we will make the half of one for one of the unmounted, and
then we will give the turnings out of our pockets to D''Artagnan,
who has a steady hand, and will go and play in the first gaming
house we come to. There!"
"Let us dine, then," said Porthos; "it is getting cold."
The friends, at ease with regard to the future, did honor to the
repast, the remains of which were abandoned to Mousqueton, Bazin,
Planchet, and Grimaud.
On arriving in Paris, D''Artagnan found a letter from M. de
Treville, which informed him that, at his request, the king had
promised that he should enter the company of the Musketeers.
As this was the height of D''Artagnan''s worldly ambition--apart,
be it well understood, from his desire of finding Mme.
Bonacieux--he ran, full of joy, to seek his comrades, whom he had
left only half an hour before, but whom he found very sad and
deeply preoccupied. They were assembled in council at the
residence of Athos, which always indicated an event of some
gravity. M. de Treville had intimated to them his Majesty''s
fixed intention to open the campaign on the first of May, and
they must immediately prepare their outfits.
The four philosophers looked at one another in a state of
bewilderment. M. de Treville never jested in matters relating to
discipline.
"And what do you reckon your outfit will cost?" said D''Artagnan.
"Oh, we can scarcely say. We have made our calculations with
Spartan economy, and we each require fifteen hundred livres."
"Four times fifteen makes sixty--six thousand livres," said
Athos.
"It seems to me," said D''Artagnan, "with a thousand livres each--
I do not speak as a Spartan, but as a procurator--"
This word PROCURATOR roused Porthos. "Stop," said he, "I have an
idea."
"Well, that''s something, for I have not the shadow of one," said
Athos cooly; "but as to D''Artagnan, gentlemen, the idea of
belonging to OURS has driven him out of his senses. A thousand
livres! For my part, I declare I want two thousand."
"Four times two makes eight," then said Aramis; "it is eight
thousand that we want to complete our outfits, toward which, it
is true, we have already the saddles."
"Besides," said Athos, waiting till D''Artagnan, who went to thank
Monsieur de Treville, had shut the door, "besides, there is that
beautiful ring which beams from the finger of our friend. What
the devil! D''Artagnan is too good a comrade to leave his
brothers in embarrassment while he wears the ransom of a king on
his finger."

29 HUNTING FOR THE EQUIPMENTS
The most preoccupied of the four friends was certainly
D''Artagnan, although he, in his quality of Guardsman, would be
much more easily equipped than Messieurs the Musketeers, who were
all of high rank; but our Gascon cadet was, as may have been
observed, of a provident and almost avaricious character, and
with that (explain the contradiction) so vain as almost to rival
Porthos. To this preoccupation of his vanity, D''Artagnan at this
moment joined an uneasiness much less selfish. Notwithstanding
all his inquiries respecting Mme. Bonacieux, he could obtain no
intelligence of her. M. de Treville had spoken of her to the
queen. The queen was ignorant where the mercer''s young wife was,
but had promised to have her sought for; but this promise was
very vague and did not at all reassure D''Artagnan.
Athos did not leave his chamber; he made up his mind not to take
a single step to equip himself.
"We have still fifteen days before us," said he to his friends.
"well, if at the end of a fortnight I have found nothing, or
rather if nothing has come to find me, as I a, too good a
Catholic to kill myself with a pistol bullet, I will seek a good
quarrel with four of his Eminence''s Guards or with eight
Englishmen, and I will fight until one of them has killed me,
which, considering the number, cannot fail to happen. It will
then be said of me that I died for the king; so that I shall have
performed my duty without the expense of an outfit."
Porthos continued to walk about with his hands behind him,
tossing his head and repeating, "I shall follow up on my idea."
Aramis, anxious and negligently dressed, said nothing.
It may be seen by these disastrous details that desolation
reigned in the community.
The lackeys on their part, like the coursers of Hippolytus,
shared the sadness of their masters. Mousqueton collected a
store of crusts; Bazin, who had always been inclined to devotion,
never quit the churches; Planchet watched the flight of flies;
and Grimaud, whom the general distress could not induce to break
the silence imposed by his master, heaved sighs enough to soften
the stones.
The three friends--for, as we have said, Athos had sworn not to
stir a foot to equip himself--went out early in the morning, and
returned late at night. They wandered about the streets, looking
at the pavement a if to see whether the passengers had not left a
purse behind them. They might have been supposed to be following
tracks, so observant were they wherever they went. When they met
they looked desolately at one another, as much as to say, "Have
you found anything?"
However, as Porthos had first found an idea, and had thought of
it earnestly afterward, he was the first to act. He was a man of
execution, this worthy Porthos. D''Artagnan perceived him one day
walking toward the church of St. Leu, and followed him
instinctively. He entered, after having twisted his mustache and
elongated his imperial, which always announced on his part the
most triumphant resolutions. As D''Artagnan took some precautions
to conceal himself, Porthos believed he had not been seen.
D''Artagnan entered behind him. Porthos went and leaned against
the side of a pillar. D''Artagnan, still unperceived, supported
himself against the other side.
There happened to be a sermon, which made the church very full of
people. Porthos took advantage of this circumstance to ogle the
women. Thanks to the cares of Mousqueton, the exterior was for
from announcing the distress of the interior. His hat was a
little napless, his feather was a little faded, his gold lace was
a little tarnished, his laces were a trifle frayed; but in the
obscurity of the church these things were not seen, and Porthos
was still the handsome Porthos.
D''Artagnan observed, on the bench nearest to the pillar against
which Porthos leaned, sort of ripe beauty, rather yellow and
rather dry, but erect and haughty under her black hood. The eyes
of Porthos were furtively cast upon this lady, and then roved
about at large over the nave.
On her side the lady, who from time to time blushed, darted with
the rapi***y of lightning a glance toward the inconstant Porthos;
and then immediately the eyes of Porthos wandered anxiously. It
was plain that this mode of proceeding piqued the lady in the
black hood, for she bit her lips till they bled, scratched the
end of her nose, and could not sit still in her seat.
Porthos, seeing this, retwisted his mustache, elongated his
imperial a second time, and began to make signals to a beautiful
lady who was near the choir, and who not only was a beautiful
lady, but still further, no doubt, a great lady--for she had
behind her a Negro boy who had brought the cushion on which she
knelt, and a female servant who held the emblazoned bag in which
was placed the book from which she read the Mass.
The lady with the black hood followed through all their
wanderings the looks of Porthos, and perceived that they rested
upon the lady with the velvet cushion, the little Negro, and the
maid-servant.
During this time Porthos played close. It was almost
imperceptible motions of his eyes, fingers placed upon the lips,
little assassinating smiles, which really did assassinate the
disdained beauty.
Then she cried, "Ahem!" under cover of the MEA CULPA, striking
her breast so vigorously that everybody, even the lady with the
red cushion, turned round toward her. Porthos paid no attention.
Nevertheless, he understood it all, but was deaf.
The lady with the red cushion produced a great effect--for she
was very handsome--upon the lady with he black hood, who saw in
her a rival really to be dreaded; a great effect upon Porthos,
who thought her much prettier than the lady with the black hood;
a great effect upon D''Artagnan, who recognized in her the lady of
Meung, of Calais, and of Dover, whom his persecutor, the man with
the scar, had saluted by the name of Milady.
D''Artagnan, without losing sight of the lady of the red cushion,
continued to watch the proceedings of Porthos, which amused him
greatly. He guessed that the lady of the black hood was the
procurator''s wife of the Rue aux Ours, which was the more
probable from the church of St. Leu being not far from that
locality.
He guessed, likewise, by induction, that Porthos was taking his
revenge for the defeat of Chantilly, when the procurator''s wife
had proved so refractory with respect to her purse.
Amid all this, D''Artagnan remarked also that not one countenance
responded to the gallantries of Porthos. There were only
chimeras and illusions; but for real love, for true jealousy, is
there any reality except illusions and chimeras?
The sermon over, the procurator''s wife advanced toward the holy
font. Porthos went before her, and instead of a finger, dipped
his whole hand in. The procurator''s wife smiled, thinking that
it was for her Porthos had put himself to this trouble; but she
was cruelly and promptly undeceived. When she was only about
three steps from him, he turned his head round, fixing his eyes
steadfastly upon the lady with the red cushion, who had risen and
was approaching, followed by her black boy and her woman.
When the lady of the red cushion came close to Porthos, Porthos
drew his dripping hand from the font. The fair worshipper
touched the great hand of Porthos with her delicate fingers,
smiled, made the sign of the cross, and left the church.
This was too much for the procurator''s wife; she doubted not
there was an intrigue between this lady and Porthos. If she had
been a great lady she would have fainted; but as she was only a
procurator''s wife, she contented herself saying to the Musketeer
with concentrated fury, "Eh, Monsieur Porthos, you don''t offer me
any holy water?"
Porthos, at the sound of that voice, started like a man awakened
from a sleep of a hundred years.
"Ma-madame!" cried he; "is that you? How is your husband, our
dear Monsieur Coquenard? Is he still as stingy as ever? Where
can my eyes have been not to have seen you during the two hours
of the sermon?"
"I was within two paces of you, monsieur," replied the
procurator''s wife; "but you did not perceive me because you had
no eyes but for the pretty lady to whom you just now gave the
holy water."
Porthos pretended to be confused. "Ah," said he, "you have
remarked--"
"I must have been blind not to have seen."
"Yes," said Porthos, "that is a duchess of my acquaintance whim I
have great trouble to meet on account of the jealousy of her
husband, and who sent me word that she should come today to this
poor church, buried in this vile quarter, solely for the sake of
seeing me."
"Monsieur Porthos," said the procurator''s wife, "will you have
the kindness to offer me your arm for five minutes? I have
something to say to you."
"Certainly, madame," said Porthos, winking to himself, as a
gambler does who laughs at the dupe he is about to pluck.
At that moment D''Artagnan passed in pursuit of Milady; he cast a
passing glance at Porthos, and beheld this triumphant look.
"Eh, eh!" said he, reasoning to himself according to the
strangely easy morality of that gallant period, "there is one who
will be equipped in good time!"
Porthos, yielding to the pressure of the arm of the procurator''s
wife, as a bark yields to the rudder, arrived at the cloister St.
Magloire--a little-frequented passage, enclosed with a turnstile
at each end. In the daytime nobody was seen there but mendicants
devouring their crusts, and children at play.
"Ah, Monsieur Porthos," cried the procurator''s wife, when she was
assured that no one who was a stranger to the population of the
locality could either see or hear her, "ah, Monsieur Porthos, you
are a great conqueror, as it appears!"
"I, madame?" said Porthos, drawing himself up proudly; "how so?"
"The signs just now, and the holy water! But that must be a
princess, at least--that lady with her Negro boy and her maid!"
"My God! Madame, you are deceived," said Porthos; "she is simply
a duchess."
"And that running footman who waited at the door, and that
carriage with a coachman in grand livery who sat waiting on his
seat?"
Porthos had seen neither the footman nor the carriage, but with
he eye of a jealous woman, Mme. Coquenard had seen everything.
Porthos regretted that he had not at once made the lady of the
red cushion a princess.
"Ah, you are quite the pet of the ladies, Monsieur Porthos!"
resumed the procurator''s wife, with a sigh.
"Well," responded Porthos, "you may imagine, with the physique
with which nature has endowed me, I am not in want of good luck."
"Good Lord, how quickly men forget!" cried the procurator''s wife,
raising her eyes toward heaven.
"Less quickly than the women, it seems to me," replied Porthos;
"for I, madame, I may say I was your victim, when wounded, dying,
I was abandoned by the surgeons. I, the offspring of a noble
family, who placed reliance upon your friendship--I was near
dying of my wounds at first, and of hunger afterward, in a
beggarly inn at Chantilly, without you ever deigning once to
reply to the burning letters I addressed to you."
"But, Monsieur Porthos," murmured the procurator''s wife, who
began to feel that, to judge by the conduct of the great ladies
of the time, she was wrong.
"I, who had sacrificed for you the Baronne de--"
"I know it well."
"The Comtesse de--"
"Monsieur Porthos, be generous!"
"You are right, madame, and I will not finish."
"But it was my husband who would not hear of lending."
"Madame Coquenard," said Porthos, "remember the first letter you
wrote me, and which I preserve engraved in my memory."
The procurator''s wife uttered a groan.
"Besides," said she, "the sum you required me to borrow was
rather large."
"Madame Coquenard, I gave you the preference. I had but to write
to the Duchesse--but I won''t repeat her name, for I am incapable
of compromising a woman; but this I know, that I had but to write
to her and she would have sent me fifteen hundred."
The procurator''s wife shed a tear.
"Monsieur Porthos," said she, "I can assure you that you have
severely punished me; and if in the time to come you should find
yourself in a similar situation, you have but to apply to me."
"Fie, madame, fie!" said Porthos, as if disgusted. "Let us not
talk about money, if you please; it is humiliating."
"Then you no longer love me!" said the procurator''s wife, slowly
and sadly.
Porthos maintained a majestic silence.
"And that is the only reply you make? Alas, I understand."
"Think of the offense you have committed toward me, madame! It
remains HERE!" said Porthos, placing his hand on his heart, and
pressing it strongly.
"I will repair it, indeed I will, my dear Porthos."
"Besides, what did I ask of you?" resumed Porthos, with a
movement of the shoulders full of good fellowship. "A loan,
nothing more! After all, I am not an unreasonable man. I know
you are not rich, Madame Coquenard, and that your husband is
obliged to bleed his poor clients to squeeze a few paltry crowns
from them. Oh! If you were a duchess, a marchioness, or a
countess, it would be quite a different thing; it would be
unpardonable."
The procurator''s wife was piqued.
"Please to know, Monsieur Porthos," said she, "that my strongbox,
the strongbox of a procurator''s wife though if may be, is better
filled than those of your affected minxes."
"The doubles the offense," said Porthos, disengaging his arm from
that of the procurator''s wife; "for if you are rich, Madame
Coquenard, then there is no excuse for your refusal."
"When I said rich," replied the procurator''s wife, who saw that
she had gone too far, "you must not take the word literally. I
am not precisely rich, though I am pretty well off."
"Hold, madame," said Porthos, "let us say no more upon the
subject, I beg of you. You have misunderstood me, all sympathy
is extinct between us."
"Ingrate that you are!"
"Ah! I advise you to complain!" said Porthos.
"Begone, then, to your beautiful duchess; I will detain you no
longer."
"And she is not to be despised, in my opinion."
"Now, Monsieur Porthos, once more, and this is the last! Do you
love me still?"
"Ah, madame," said Porthos, in the most melancholy tone he could
assume, "when we are about to enter upon a campaign--a campaign,
in which my presentiments tell me I shall be killed--"
"Oh, don''t talk of such things!" cried the procurator''s wife,
bursting into tears.
"Something whispers me so," continued Porthos, becoming more and
more melancholy.
"Rather say that you have a new love."
"Not so; I speak frankly to you. No object affects me; and I
even feel here, at the bottom of my heart, something which speaks
for you. But in fifteen days, as you know, or as you do not
know, this fatal campaign is to open. I shall be fearfully
preoccupied with my outfit. Then I must make a journey to see my
family, in the lower part of Brittany, to obtain the sum
necessary for my departure."
Porthos observed a last struggle between love and avarice.
"And as," continued he, "the duchess whom you saw at the church
has estates near to those of my family, we mean to make the
journey together. Journeys, you know, appear much shorter when
we travel two in company."
"Have you no friends in Paris, then, Monsieur Porthos?" said the
procurator''s wife.
"I thought I had," said Porthos, resuming his melancholy air;
"but I have been taught my mistake."
"You have some!" cried the procurator''s wife, in a transport that
surprised even herself. "Come to our house tomorrow. You are
the son of my aunt, consequently my cousin; you come from Noyon,
in Picardy; you have several lawsuits and no attorney. Can you
recollect all that?"
"Perfectly, madame."
"Cone at dinnertime."
"Very well."
"And be upon your guard before my husband, who is rather shrewd,
notwithstanding his seventy-six years."
"Seventy-six years! PESTE! That''s a fine age!" replied Porthos.
"A great age, you mean, Monsieur Porthos. Yes, the poor man may
be expected to leave me a widow, any hour," continued she,
throwing a significant glance at Porthos. "Fortunately, by our
marriage contract, the survivor takes everything."
"All?"
"Yes, all."
"You are a woman of precaution, I see, my dear Madame Coquenard,"
said Porthos, squeezing the hand of the procurator''s wife
tenderly.
"We are then reconciled, dear Monsieur Porthos?" said she,
simpering.
"For life," replied Porthos, in the same manner.
"Till we meet again, then, dear traitor!"
"Till we meet again, my forgetful charmer!"
"Tomorrow, my angel!"
"Tomorrow, flame of my life!"

30 D''ARTAGNAN AND THE ENGLISHMAN
D''Artagnan followed Milady without being perceived by her.
He saw her get into her carriage, and heard her order the
coachman to drive to St. Germain.
It was useless to try to keep pace on foot with a carriage
drawn by two powerful horses. D''Artagnan therefore returned
to the Rue Ferou.
In the Rue de Seine he met Planchet, who had stopped before
the house of a pastry cook, and was contemplating with
ecstasy a cake of the most appetizing appearance.
He ordered him to go and saddle two horses in M. de
Treville''s stables--one for himself, D''Artagnan, and one for
Planchet--and bring them to Athens''s place. Once for all,
Treville had placed his stable at D''Artagnan''s service.
Planchet proceeded toward the Rue du Colombier, and
D''Artagnan toward the Rue Ferou. Athos was at home,
emptying sadly a bottle of the famous Spanish wine he had
brought back with him from his journey into Picardy. He
made a sign for Grimaud to bring a glass for D''Artagnan, and
Grimaud obeyed as usual.
D''Artagnan related to Athos all that had passed at the
church between Porthos and the procurator''s wife, and how
their comrade was probably by that time in a fair way to be
equipped.
"As for me," replied Athos to this recital, "I am quite at
my ease; it will not be women that will defray the expense
of my outfit."
"Handsome, well-bred, noble lord as you are, my dear Athos,
neither princesses nor queens would be secure from your
amorous solicitations."
"How young this D''Artagnan is!" said Athos, shrugging his
shoulders; and he made a sign to Grimaud to bring another
bottle.
At that moment Planchet put his head modestly in at the
half-open door, and told his master that the horses were
ready.
"What horses?" asked Athos.
"Two horses that Monsieur de Treville lends me at my
pleasure, and with which I am now going to take a ride to
St. Germain."
"Well, and what are you going to do at St. Germain?" then
demanded Athos.
Then D''Artagnan described the meeting which he had at the
church, and how he had found that lady who, with the
seigneur in the black cloak and with the scar near his
temple, filled his mind constantly.
"That is to say, you are in love with this lady as you were
with Madame Bonacieux," said Athos, shrugging his shoulders
contemptuously, as if he pitied human weakness.
"I? not at all!" said D''Artagnan. "I am only curious to
unravel the mystery to which she is attached. I do not know
why, but I imagine that this woman, wholly unknown to me as
she is, and wholly unknown to her as I am, has an influence
over my life."
"Well, perhaps you are right," said Athos. "I do not know a
woman that is worth the trouble of being sought for when she
is once lost. Madame Bonacieux is lost; so much the worse
for her if she is found."
"No, Athos, no, you are mistaken," said D''Artagnan; "I love
my poor Constance more than ever, and if I knew the place in
which she is, were it at the end of the world, I would go to
free her from the hands of her enemies; but I am ignorant.
All my researches have been useless. What is to be said? I
must divert my attention!"
"Amuse yourself with Milady, my dear D''Artagnan; I wish you
may with all my heart, if that will amuse you."
"Hear me, Athos," said D''Artagnan. "Instead of shutting
yourself up here as if you were under arrest, get on
horseback and come and take a ride with me to St. Germain."
"My dear fellow," said Athos, "I ride horses when I have
any; when I have none, I go afoot."
"Well," said D''Artagnan, smiling at the misanthropy of
Athos, which from any other person would have offended him,
"I ride what I can get; I am not so proud as you. So AU
REVOIR, dear Athos."
"AU REVOIR," said the Musketeer, making a sign to Grimaud to
uncork the bottle he had just brought.
D''Artagnan and Planchet mounted, and took the road to St.
Germain.
All along the road, what Athos had said respecting Mme.
Bonacieux recurred to the mind of the young man. Although
D''Artagnan was not of a very sentimental character, the
mercer''s pretty wife had made a real impression upon his
heart. As he said, he was ready to go to the end of the
world to seek her; but the world, being round, has many
ends, so that he did not know which way to turn. Meantime,
he was going to try to find out Milady. Milady had spoken
to the man in the black cloak; therefore she knew him. Now,
in the opinion of D''Artagnan, it was certainly the man in
the black cloak who had carried off Mme. Bonacieux the
second time, as he had carried her off the first.
D''Artagnan then only half-lied, which is lying but little,
when he said that by going in search of Milady he at the
same time went in search of Constance.
Thinking of all this, and from time to time giving a touch
of the spur to his horse, D''Artagnan completed his short
journey, and arrived at St. Germain. He had just passed by
the pavilion in which ten years later Louis XIV was born.
He rode up a very quiet street, looking to the right and the
left to see if he could catch any vestige of his beautiful
Englishwoman, when from the ground floor of a pretty house,
which, according to the fashion of the time, had no window
toward the street, he saw a face peep out with which he
thought he was acquainted. This person walked along the
terrace, which was ornamented with flowers. Planchet
recognized him first.
"Eh, monsieur!" said he, addressing D''Artagnan, "don''t you
remember that face which is blinking yonder?"
"No," said D''Artagnan, "and yet I am certain it is not the
first time I have seen that visage."
"PARBLEU, I believe it is not," said Planchet. "Why, it is
poor Lubin, the lackey of the Comte de Wardes--he whom you
took such good care of a month ago at Calais, on the road to
the governor''s country house!"
"So it is!" said D''Artagnan; "I know him now. Do you think
he would recollect you?"
"My faith, monsieur, he was in such trouble that I doubt if
he can have retained a very clear recollection of me."
"Well, go and talk with the boy," said D''Artagnan, "and make
out if you can from his conversation whether his master is
dead."
Planchet dismounted and went straight up to Lubin, who did
not at all remember him, and the two lackeys began to chat
with the best understanding possible; while D''Artagnan
turned the two horses into a lane, went round the house, and
came back to watch the conference from behind a hedge of
filberts.
At the end of an instant''s observation he heard the noise of
a vehicle, and saw Milady''s carriage stop opposite to him.
He could not be mistaken; Milady was in it. D''Artagnan
leaned upon the neck of his horse, in order that he might
see without being seen.
Milady put her charming blond head out at the window, and
gave her orders to her maid.
The latter--a pretty girl of about twenty or twenty-two
years, active and lively, the true SOUBRETTE of a great
lady--jumped from the step upon which, according to the
custom of the time, she was seated, and took her way toward
the terrace upon which D''Artagnan had perceived Lubin.
D''Artagnan followed the soubrette with his eyes, and saw her
go toward the terrace; but it happened that someone in the
house called Lubin, so that Planchet remained alone, looking
in all directions for the road where D''Artagnan had disappeared.
The maid approached Planchet, whom she took for Lubin, and
holding out a little billet to him said, "For your master."
"For my master?" replied Planchet, astonished.
"Yes, and important. Take it quickly."
Thereupon she ran toward the carriage, which had turned
round toward the way it came, jumped upon the step, and the
carriage drove off.
Planchet turned and returned the billet. Then, accustomed
to passive obedience, he jumped down from the terrace, ran
toward the lane, and at the end of twenty paces met
D''Artagnan, who, having seen all, was coming to him.
"For you, monsieur," said Planchet, presenting the billet to
the young man.
"For me?" said D''Artagnan; "are you sure of that?"
"PARDIEU, monsieur, I can''t be more sure. The SOUBRETTE said,
''For your master.'' I have no other master but you; so-
a pretty little lass, my faith, is that SOUBRETTE!"
D''Artagnan opened the letter, and read these words:
"A person who takes more interest in you than she is willing
to confess wishes to know on what day it will suit you to
walk in the forest? Tomorrow, at the Hotel Field of the
Cloth of Gold, a lackey in black and red will wait for your
reply."
"Oh!" said D''Artagnan, "this is rather warm; it appears that
Milady and I are anxious about the health of the same
person. Well, Planchet, how is the good Monsieur de Wardes?
He is not dead, then?"
"No, monsieur, he is as well as a man can be with four sword
wounds in his body; for you, without question, inflicted
four upon the dear gentleman, and he is still very weak,
having lost almost all his blood. As I said, monsieur,
Lubin did not know me, and told me our adventure from one
end to the other."
"Well done, Planchet! you are the king of lackeys. Now jump
onto your horse, and let us overtake the carriage."
This did not take long. At the end of five minutes they
perceived the carriage drawn up by the roadside; a cavalier,
richly dressed, was close to the door.
The conversation between Milady and the cavalier was so
animated that D''Artagnan stopped on the other side of the
carriage without anyone but the pretty SOUBRETTE perceiving
his presence.
The conversation took place in English--a language which
D''Artagnan could not understand; but by the accent the young
man plainly saw that the beautiful Englishwoman was in a
great rage. She terminated it by an action which left no
doubt as to the nature of this conversation; this was a blow
with her fan, applied with such force that the little
feminine weapon flew into a thousand pieces.
The cavalier laughed aloud, which appeared to exasperate
Milady still more.
D''Artagnan thought this was the moment to interfere. He
approached the other door, and taking off his hat
respectfully, said, "Madame, will you permit me to offer you
my services? It appears to me that this cavalier has made
you very angry. Speak one word, madame, and I take upon
myself to punish him for his want of courtesy."
At the first word Milady turned, looking at the young man
with astonishment; and when he had finished, she said in
very good French, "Monsieur, I should with great confidence
place myself under your protection if the person with whom I
quarrel were not my brother."
"Ah, excuse me, then," said D''Artagnan. "You must be aware
that I was ignorant of that, madame."
"What is that stupid fellow troubling himself about?" cried
the cavalier whom Milady had designated as her brother,
stooping down to the height of the coach window. "Why does
not he go about his business?"
"Stupid fellow yourself!" said D''Artagnan, stooping in his
turn on the neck of his horse, and answering on his side
through the carriage window. "I do not go on because it
pleases me to stop here."
The cavalier addressed some words in English to his sister.
"I speak to you in French," said D''Artagnan; "be kind
enough, then, to reply to me in the same language. You are
Madame''s brother, I learn--be it so; but fortunately you are
not mine."
It might be thought that Milady, timid as women are in
general, would have interposed in this commencement of
mutual provocations in order to prevent the quarrel from
going too far; but on the contrary, she threw herself back
in her carriage, and called out coolly to the coachman,
"Go on--home!"
The pretty SOUBRETTE cast an anxious glance at D''Artagnan,
whose good looks seemed to have made an impression on her.
The carriage went on, and left the two men facing each
other; no material obstacle separated them.
The cavalier made a movement as if to follow the carriage;
but D''Artagnan, whose anger, already excited, was much
increased by recognizing in him the Englishman of Amiens who
had won his horse and had been very near winning his diamond
of Athos, caught at his bridle and stopped him.
"Well, monsieur," said he, "you appear to be more stupid
than I am, for you forget there is a little quarrel to
arrange between us two."
"Ah," said the Englishman, "is it you, my master? It seems
you must always be playing some game or other."
"Yes; and that reminds me that I have a revenge to take. We
will see, my dear monsieur, if you can handle a sword as
skillfully as you can a dice box."
"You see plainly that I have no sword," said the Englishman.
"Do you wish to play the braggart with an unarmed man?"
"I hope you have a sword at home; but at all events, I have
two, and if you like, I will throw with you for one of
them."
"Needless," said the Englishman; "I am well furnished with
such playthings."
"Very well, my worthy gentleman," replied D''Artagnan, "pick
out the longest, and come and show it to me this evening."
"Where, if you please?"
"Behind the Luxembourg; that''s a charming spot for such
amusements as the one I propose to you."
"That will do; I will be there."
"Your hour?"
"Six o''clock."
"A PROPOS, you have probably one or two friends?"
"I have three, who would be honored by joining in the sport
with me."
"Three? Marvelous! That falls out oddly! Three is just my
number!"
"Now, then, who are you?" asked the Englishman.
"I am Monsieur D''Artagnan, a Gascon gentleman, serving in
the king''s Musketeers. And you?"
"I am Lord de Winter, Baron Sheffield."
"Well, then, I am your servant, Monsieur Baron," said
D''Artagnan, "though you have names rather difficult to
recollect." And touching his horse with the spur, he
cantered back to Paris. As he was accustomed to do in all
cases of any consequence, D''Artagnan went straight to the
residence of Athos.
He found Athos reclining upon a large sofa, where he was
waiting, as he said, for his outfit to come and find him.
He related to Athos all that had passed, except the letter
to M. de Wardes.
Athos was delighted to find he was going to fight an
Englishman. We might say that was his dream.
They immediately sent their lackeys for Porthos and Aramis,
and on their arrival made them acquainted with the
situation.
Porthos drew his sword from the scabbard, and made passes at
the wall, springing back from time to time, and making
contortions like a dancer.
Aramis, who was constantly at work at his poem, shut himself
up in Athos''s closet, and begged not to be disturbed before
the moment of drawing swords.
Athos, by signs, desired Grimaud to bring another bottle of
wine.
D''Artagnan employed himself in arranging a little plan, of
which we shall hereafter see the execution, and which
promised him some agreeable adventure, as might be seen by
the smiles which from time to time passed over his
countenance, whose thoughtfulness they animated.