The Three Musketeers - Dumas

31 ENGLISH AND FRENCH
The hour having come, they went with their four lackeys to a
spot behind the Luxembourg given up to the feeding of goats.
Athos threw a piece of money to the goalkeeper to withdraw.
The lackeys were ordered to act as sentinels.
A silent party soon drew near to the same enclosure,
entered, and joined the Musketeers. Then, according to
foreign custom, the presentations took place.
The Englishmen were all men of rank; consequently the odd
names of their adversaries were for them not only a matter
of surprise, but of annoyance.
"But after all," said Lord de Winter, when the three friends
had been named, "we do not know who you are. We cannot
fight with such names; they are names of shepherds."
"Therefore your lordship may suppose they are only assumed
names," said Athos.
"Which only gives us a greater desire to know the real
ones," replied the Englishman.
"You played very willingly with us without knowing our
names," said Athos, "by the same token that you won our
horses."
"That is true, but we then only risked our pistoles; this
time we risk our blood. One plays with anybody; but one
fights only with equals."
"And that is but just," said Athos, and he took aside the
one of the four Englishmen with whom he was to fight, and
communicated his name in a low voice.
Porthos and Aramis did the same.
"Does that satisfy you?" said Athos to his adversary. "Do
you find me of sufficient rank to do me the honor of
crossing swords with me?"
"Yes, monsieur," said the Englishman, bowing.
"Well! now tell I tell you something?" added Athos, coolly.
"What?" replied the Englishman.
"Why, that is that you would have acted much more wisely if
you had not required me to make myself known."
"Why so?"
"Because I am believed to be dead, and have reasons for
wishing nobody to know I am living; so that I shall be
obliged to kill you to prevent my secret from roaming over
the fields."
The Englishman looked at Athos, believing that he jested,
but Athos did not jest the least in the world.
"Gentlemen," said Athos, addressing at the same time his
companions and their adversaries, "are we ready?"
"Yes!" answered the Englishmen and the Frenchmen, as with
one voice.
"On guard, then!" cried Athos.
Immediately eight swords glittered in the rays of the
setting sun, and the combat began with an animosity very
natural between men twice enemies.
Athos fenced with as much calmness and method as if he had
been practicing in a fencing school.
Porthos, abated, no doubt, of his too-great confidence by
his adventure of Chantilly, played with skill and prudence.
Aramis, who had the third canto of his poem to finish,
behaved like a man in haste.
Athos killed his adversary first. He hit him but once, but
as he had foretold, that hit was a mortal one; the sword
pierced his heart.
Second, Porthos stretched his upon the grass with a wound
through his thigh, As the Englishman, without making any
further resistance, then surrendered his sword, Porthos took
him up in his arms and bore him to his carriage.
Aramis pushed his so vigorously that after going back fifty
paces, the man ended by fairly taking to his heels, and
disappeared amid the hooting of the lackeys.
As to D''Artagnan, he fought purely and simply on the
defensive; and when he saw his adversary pretty well
fatigued, with a vigorous side thrust sent his sword flying.
The baron, finding himself disarmed, took two or three steps
back, but in this movement his foot slipped and he fell
backward.
D''Artagnan was over him at a bound, and said to the
Englishman, pointing his sword to his throat, "I could kill
you, my Lord, you are completely in my hands; but I spare
your life for the sake of your sister."
D''Artagnan was at the height of joy; he had realized the
plan he had imagined beforehand, whose picturing had
produced the smiles we noted upon his face.
The Englishman, delighted at having to do with a gentleman
of such a kind disposition, pressed D''Artagnan in his arms,
and paid a thousand compliments to the three Musketeers, and
as Porthos''s adversary was already installed in the
carriage, and as Aramis''s had taken to his heels, they had
nothing to think about but the dead.
As Porthos and Aramis were undressing him, in the hope of
finding his wound not mortal, a large purse dropped from his
clothes. D''Artagnan picked it up and offered it to Lord de
Winter.
"What the devil would you have me do with that?" said the
Englishman.
"You can restore it to his family," said D''Artagnan.
"His family will care much about such a trifle as that! His
family will inherit fifteen thousand louis a year from him.
Keep the purse for your lackeys."
D''Artagnan put the purse into his pocket.
"And now, my young friend, for you will permit me, I hope,
to give you that name," said Lord de Winter, "on this very
evening, if agreeable to you, I will present you to my
sister, Milady Clarik, for I am desirous that she should
take you into her good graces; and as she is not in bad odor
at court, she may perhaps on some future day speak a word
that will not prove useless to you.
D''Artagnan blushed with pleasure, and bowed a sign of
assent.
At this time Athos came up to D''Artagnan.
"What do you mean to do with that purse?" whispered he.
"Why, I meant to pass it over to you, my dear Athos."
"Me! why to me?"
"Why, you killed him! They are the spoils of victory."
"I, the heir of an enemy!" said Athos; "for whom, then, do
you take me?"
"It is the custom in war," said D''Artagnan, "why should it
not be the custom in a duel?"
"Even on the field of battle, I have never done that."
Porthos shrugged his shoulders; Aramis by a movement of his
lips endorsed Athos.
"Then," said D''Artagnan, "let us give the money to the
lackeys, as Lord de Winter desired us to do."
"Yes," said Athos; "let us give the money to the lackeys--not
to our lackeys, but to the lackeys of the Englishmen."
Athos took the purse, and threw it into the hand of the
coachman. "For you and your comrades."
This greatness of spirit in a man who was quite destitute
struck even Porthos; and this French generosity, repeated by
Lord de Winter and his friend, was highly applauded, except
by MM. Grimaud, Bazin, Mousqueton and Planchet.
Lord de Winter, on quitting D''Artagnan, gave him his
sister''s address. She lived in the Place Royale--then the
fashionable quarter--at Number 6, and he undertook to call
and take D''Artagnan with him in order to introduce him.
D''Artagnan appointed eight o''clock at Athos''s residence.
This introduction to Milady Clarik occupied the head of our
Gascon greatly. He remembered in what a strange manner this
woman had hitherto been mixed up in his destiny. According
to his conviction, she was some creature of the cardinal,
and yet he felt himself invincibly drawn toward her by one
of those sentiments for which we cannot account. His only
fear was that Milady would recognize in him the man of Meung
and of Dover. Then she knew that he was one of the friends
of M. de Treville, and consequently, that he belonged body
and soul to the king; which would make him lose a part of
his advantage, since when known to Milady as he knew her, he
played only an equal game with her. As to the commencement
of an intrigue between her and M. de Wardes, our
presumptuous hero gave but little heed to that, although the
marquis was young, handsome, rich, and high in the
cardinal''s favor. It is not for nothing we are but twenty years old, above all if we were born at Tarbes.
D''Artagnan began by making his most splendid toilet, then
returned to Athos''s, and according to custom, related
everything to him. Athos listened to his projects, then
shook his head, and recommended prudence to him with a shade
of bitterness.
"What!" said he, "you have just lost one woman, whom you
call good, charming, perfect; and here you are, running
headlong after another."
D''Artagnan felt the truth of this reproach.
"I loved Madame Bonacieux with my heart, while I only love
Milady with my head," said he. "In getting introduced to
her, my principal object is to ascertain what part she plays
at court."
"The part she plays, PARDIEU! It is not difficult to divine
that, after all you have told me. She is some emissary of
the cardinal; a woman who will draw you into a snare in
which you will leave your head."
"The devil! my dear Athos, you view things on the dark side,
methinks."
"My dear fellow, I mistrust women. Can it be otherwise? I
bought my experience dearly--particularly fair women. Milady
is fair, you say?"
"She has the most beautiful light hair imaginable!"
"Ah, my poor D''Artagnan!" said Athos.
"Listen to me! I want to be enlightened on a subject; then,
when I shall have learned what I desire to know, I will
withdraw."
"Be enlightened!" said Athos, phlegmatically.
Lord de Winter arrived at the appointed time; but Athos,
being warned of his coming, went into the other chamber. He
therefore found D''Artagnan alone, and as it was nearly eight
o''clock he took the young man with him.
An elegant carriage waited below, and as it was drawn by two
excellent horses, they were soon at the Place Royale.
Milady Clarik received D''Artagnan ceremoniously. Her hotel
was remarkably sumptuous, and while the most part of the
English had quit, or were about to quit, France on account
of the war, Milady had just been laying out much money upon
her residence; which proved that the general measure which
drove the English from France did not affect her.
"You see," said Lord de Winter, presenting D''Artagnan to his
sister, "a young gentleman who has held my life in his
hands, and who has not abused his advantage, although we
have been twice enemies, although it was I who insulted him,
and although I am an Englishman. Thank him, then, madame,
if you have any affection for me."
Milady frowned slightly; a scarcely visible cloud passed
over her brow, and so peculiar a smile appeared upon her
lips that the young man, who saw and observed this triple
shade, almost shuddered at it.
The brother did not perceive this; he had turned round to
play with Milady''s favorite monkey, which had pulled him by
the doublet.
"You are welcome, monsieur," said Milady, in a voice whose
singular sweetness contrasted with the symptoms of ill-humor
which D''Artagnan had just remarked; "you have today acquired
eternal rights to my gratitude."
The Englishman then turned round and described the combat
without omitting a single detail. Milady listened with the
greatest attention, and yet it was easily to be perceived,
whatever effort she made to conceal her impressions, that
this recital was not agreeable to her. The blood rose to
her head, and her little foot worked with impatience beneath
her robe.
Lord de Winter perceived nothing of this. When he had
finished, he went to a table upon which was a salver with
Spanish wine and glasses. He filled two glasses, and by a
sign invited D''Artagnan to drink.
D''Artagnan knew it was considered disobliging by an
Englishman to refuse to pledge him. He therefore drew near
to the table and took the second glass. He did not,
however, lose sight of Milady, and in a mirror he perceived
the change that came over her face. Now that she believed
herself to be no longer observed, a sentiment resembling
ferocity animated her countenance. She bit her handkerchief
with her beautiful teeth.
That pretty little SOUBRETTE whom D''Artagnan had already
observed then came in. She spoke some words to Lord de
Winter in English, who thereupon requested D''Artagnan''s
permission to retire, excusing himself on account of the
urgency of the business that had called him away, and
charging his sister to obtain his pardon.
D''Artagnan exchanged a shake of the hand with Lord de
Winter, and then returned to Milady. Her countenance, with
surprising mobility, had recovered its gracious expression;
but some little red spots on her handkerchief indicated that
she had bitten her lips till the blood came. Those lips
were magnificent; they might be said to be of coral.
The conversation took a cheerful turn. Milady appeared to
have entirely recovered. She told D''Artagnan that Lord de
Winter was her brother-in-law, and not her brother. She had
married a younger brother of the family, who had left her a
widow with one child. This child was the only heir to Lord
de Winter, if Lord de Winter did not marry. All this showed
D''Artagnan that there was a veil which concealed something;
but he could not yet see under this veil.
In ad***ion to this, after a half hour''s conversation
D''Artagnan was convinced that Milady was his compatriot; she
spoke French with an elegance and a purity that left no
doubt on that head.
D''Artagnan was profuse in gallant speeches and protestations
of devotion. To all the simple things which escaped our
Gascon, Milady replied with a smile of kindness. The hour
came for him to retire. D''Artagnan took leave of Milady,
and left the saloon the happiest of men.
On the staircase he met the pretty SOUBRETTE, who brushed
gently against him as she passed, and then, blushing to the
eyes, asked his pardon for having touched him in a voice so
sweet that the pardon was granted instantly.
D''Artagnan came again on the morrow, and was still better
received than on the evening before. Lord de Winter was not
at home; and it was Milady who this time did all the honors
of the evening. She appeared to take a great interest in
him, asked him whence he came, who were his friends, and
whether he had not sometimes thought of attaching himself to
the cardinal.
D''Artagnan, who, as we have said, was exceedingly prudent
for a young man of twenty, then remembered his suspicions
regarding Milady. He launched into a eulogy of his
Eminence, and said that he should not have failed to enter
into the Guards of the cardinal instead of the king''s Guards
if he had happened to know M. de Cavois instead of M. de
Treville.
Milady changed the conversation without any appearance of
affectation, and asked D''Artagnan in the most careless
manner possible if he had ever been in England.
D''Artagnan replied that he had been sent thither by M. de
Treville to treat for a supply of horses, and that he had
brought back four as specimens.
Milady in the course of the conversation twice or thrice bit
her lips; she had to deal with a Gascon who played close.
At the same hour as on the preceding evening, D''Artagnan
retired. In the corridor he again met the pretty Kitty; that
was the name of the SOUBRETTE. She looked at him with an
expression of kindness which it was impossible to mistake;
but D''Artagnan was so preoccupied by the mistress that he
noticed absolutely nothing but her.
D''Artagnan came again on the morrow and the day after that,
and each day Milady gave him a more gracious reception.
Every evening, either in the antechamber, the corridor, or
on the stairs, he met the pretty SOUBRETTE. But, as we have
said, D''Artagnan paid no attention to this persistence of
poor Kitty.

​

32 A PROCURATOR''S DINNER
However brilliant had been the part played by Porthos in the
duel, it had not made him forget the dinner of the
procurator''s wife.
On the morrow he received the last touches of Mousqueton''s
brush for an hour, and took his way toward the Rue aux Ours
with the steps of a man who was doubly in favor with
fortune.
His heart beat, but not like D''Artagnan''s with a young and
impatient love. No; a more material interest stirred his
blood. He was about at last to pass that mysterious
threshold, to climb those unknown stairs by which, one by
one, the old crowns of M. Coquenard had ascended. He was
about to see in reality a certain coffer of which he had
twenty times beheld the image in his dreams--a coffer long
and deep, locked, bolted, fastened in the wall; a coffer of
which he had so often heard, and which the hands--a little
wrinkled, it is true, but still not without elegance--of the
procurator''s wife were about to open to his admiring looks.
And then he--a wanderer on the earth, a man without fortune,
a man without family, a soldier accustomed to inns,
cabarets, taverns, and restaurants, a lover of wine forced
to depend upon chance treats--was about to partake of family
meals, to enjoy the pleasures of a comfortable
establishment, and to give himself up to those little
attentions which "the harder one is, the more they please,"
as old soldiers say.
To come in the capacity of a cousin, and seat himself every
day at a good table; to smooth the yellow, wrinkled brow of
the old procurator; to pluck the clerks a little by teaching
them BASSETTE, PASSE-DIX, and LANSQUENET, in their utmost
nicety, and winning from them, by way of fee for the lesson
he would give them in an hour, their savings of a month--all
this was enormously delightful to Porthos.
The Musketeer could not forget the evil reports which then
prevailed, and which indeed have survived them, of the
procurators of the period--meanness, stinginess, fasts; but
as, after all, excepting some few acts of economy which
Porthos had always found very unseasonable, the procurator''s
wife had been tolerably liberal--that is, be it understood,
for a procurator''s wife--he hoped to see a household of a
highly comfortable kind.
And yet, at the very door the Musketeer began to entertain
some doubts. The approach was not such as to prepossess
people--an ill-smelling, dark passage, a staircase half-
lighted by bars through which stole a glimmer from a
neighboring yard; on the first floor a low door studded with
enormous nails, like the principal gate of the Grand
Chatelet.
Porthos knocked with his hand. A tall, pale clerk, his face
shaded by a forest of virgin hair, opened the door, and
bowed with the air of a man forced at once to respect in
another lofty stature, which indicated strength, the
military dress, which indicated rank, and a ruddy
countenance, which indicated familiarity with good living.
A shorter clerk came behind the first, a taller clerk behind
the second, a stripling of a dozen years rising behind the
third. In all, three clerks and a half, which, for the
time, argued a very extensive clientage.
Although the Musketeer was not expected before one o''clock,
the procurator''s wife had been on the watch ever since
midday, reckoning that the heart, or perhaps the stomach, of
her lover would bring him before his time.
Mme. Coquenard therefore entered the office from the house
at the same moment her guest entered from the stairs, and
the appearance of the worthy lady relieved him from an
awkward embarrassment. The clerks surveyed him with great
curiosity, and he, not knowing well what to say to this
ascending and descending scale, remained tongue-tied.
"It is my cousin!" cried the procurator''s wife. "Come in,
come in, Monsieur Porthos!"
The name of Porthos produced its effect upon the clerks, who
began to laugh; but Porthos turned sharply round, and every
countenance quickly recovered its gravity.
They reached the office of the procurator after having
passed through the antechamber in which the clerks were, and
the study in which they ought to have been. This last
apartment was a sort of dark room, littered with papers. On
quitting the study they left the kitchen on the right, and
entered the reception room.
All these rooms, which communicated with one another, did
not inspire Porthos favorably. Words might be heard at a
distance through all these open doors. Then, while passing,
he had cast a rapid, investigating glance into the kitchen;
and he was obliged to confess to himself, to the shame of
the procurator''s wife and his own regret, that he did not
see that fire, that animation, that bustle, which when a
good repast is on foot prevails generally in that sanctuary
of good living.
The procurator had without doubt been warned of his visit,
as he expressed no surprise at the sight of Porthos, who
advanced toward him with a sufficiently easy air, and
saluted him courteously.
"We are cousins, it appears, Monsieur Porthos?" said the
procurator, rising, yet supporting his weight upon the arms
of his cane chair.
The old man, wrapped in a large black doublet, in which the
whole of his slender body was concealed, was brisk and dry.
His little gray eyes shone like carbuncles, and appeared,
with his grinning mouth, to be the only part of his face in
which life survived. Unfortunately the legs began to refuse
their service to this bony machine. During the last five or
six months that this weakness had been felt, the worthy
procurator had nearly become the slave of his wife.
The cousin was received with resignation, that was all. M.
Coquenard, firm upon his legs, would have declined all
relationship with M. Porthos.
"Yes, monsieur, we are cousins," said Porthos, without being
disconcerted, as he had never reckoned upon being received
enthusiastically by the husband.
"By the female side, I believe?" said the procurator,
maliciously.
Porthos did not feel the ridicule of this, and took it for a
piece of simplicity, at which he laughed in his large
mustache. Mme. Coquenard, who knew that a simple-minded
procurator was a very rare variety in the species, smiled a
little, and colored a great deal.
M. Coquenard had, since the arrival of Porthos, frequently
cast his eyes with great uneasiness upon a large chest
placed in front of his oak desk. Porthos comprehended that
this chest, although it did not correspond in shape with
that which he had seen in his dreams, must be the blessed
coffer, and he congratulated himself that the reality was
several feet higher than the dream.
M. Coquenard did not carry his genealogical investigations
any further; but withdrawing his anxious look from the chest
and fixing it upon Porthos, he contented himself with saying,
"Monsieur our cousin will do us the favor of dining with us
once before his departure for the campaign, will he not,
Madame Coquenard?"
This time Porthos received the blow right in his stomach,
and felt it. It appeared likewise that Mme. Coquenard was
not less affected by it on her part, for she added, "My
cousin will not return if he finds that we do not treat him
kindly; but otherwise he has so little time to pass in Paris,
and consequently to spare to us, that we must entreat him to
give us every instant he can call his own previous to his
departure."
"Oh, my legs, my poor legs! where are you?" murmured
Coquenard, and he tried to smile.
This succor, which came to Porthos at the moment in which he
was attacked in his gastronomic hopes, inspired much
gratitude in the Musketeer toward the procurator''s wife.
The hour of dinner soon arrived. They passed into the eating
room--a large dark room situated opposite the kitchen.
The clerks, who, as it appeared, had smelled unusual perfumes
in the house, were of military punctuality, and held their
stools in hand quite ready to sit down. Their jaws moved
preliminarily with fearful threatenings.
"Indeed!" thought Porthos, casting a glance at the three hungry
clerks-for the errand boy, as might be expected, was not
admitted to the honors of the magisterial table. "in my
cousin''s place, I would not keep such gourmands! They look
like shipwrecked sailors who have not eaten for six weeks."
M. Coquenard entered, pushed along upon his armchair with
casters by Mme. Coquenard, whom Porthos assisted in rolling
her husband up to the table. He had scarcely entered when
he began to agitate his nose and his jaws after the example
of his clerks.
"Oh, oh!" said he; "here is a soup which is rather
inviting."
"What the devil can they smell so extraordinary in this
soup?" said Porthos, at the sight of a pale liquid, abundant
but entirely free from meat, on the surface of which a few
crusts swam about as rare as the islands of an archipelago.
Mme. Coquenard smiled, and upon a sign from her everyone
eagerly took his seat.
M. Coquenard was served first, then Porthos. Afterward Mme.
Coquenard filled her own plate, and distributed the crusts
without soup to the impatient clerks. At this moment the
door of the dining room unclosed with a creak, and Porthos
perceived through the half-open flap the little clerk who,
not being allowed to take part in the feast, ate his dry
bread in the passage with the double odor of the dining room
and kitchen.
After the soup the maid brought a boiled fowl--a piece of
magnificence which caused the eyes of the diners to dilate
in such a manner that they seemed ready to burst.
"One may see that you love your family, Madame Coquenard,"
said the procurator, with a smile that was almost tragic.
"You are certainly treating your cousin very handsomely!"
The poor fowl was thin, and covered with one of those thick,
bristly skins through which the teeth cannot penetrate with
all their efforts. The fowl must have been sought for a
long time on the perch, to which it had retired to die of
old age.
"The devil!" thought Porthos, "this is poor work. I respect
old age, but I don''t much like it boiled or roasted."
And he looked round to see if anybody partook of his
opinion; but on the contrary, he saw nothing but eager eyes
which were devouring, in anticipation, that sublime fowl
which was the object of his contempt.
Mme. Coquenard drew the dish toward her, skillfully detached
the two great black feet, which she placed upon her
husband''s plate, cut off the neck, which with the head she
put on one side for herself, raised the wing for Porthos,
and then returned the bird otherwise intact to the servant
who had brought it in, who disappeared with it before the
Musketeer had time to examine the variations which
disappointment produces upon faces, according to the
characters and temperaments of those who experience it.
In the place of the fowl a dish of haricot beans made its
appearance--an enormous dish in which some bones of mutton
that at first sight one might have believed to have some
meat on them pretended to show themselves.
But the clerks were not the dupes of this deceit, and their
lugubrious looks settled down into resigned countenances.
Mme. Coquenard distributed this dish to the young men with
the moderation of a good housewife.
The time for wine came. M. Coquenard poured from a very
small stone bottle the third of a glass for each of the
young men, served himself in about the same proportion, and
passed the bottle to Porthos and Mme. Coquenard.
The young men filled up their third of a glass with water;
then, when they had drunk half the glass, they filled it up
again, and continued to do so. This brought them, by the
end of the repast, to swallowing a drink which from the
color of the ruby had passed to that of a pale topaz.
Porthos ate his wing of the fowl timidly, and shuddered when
he felt the knee of the procurator''s wife under the table,
as it came in search of his. He also drank half a glass of
this sparingly served wine, and found it to be nothing but
that horrible Montreuil--the terror of all expert palates.
M. Coquenard saw him swallowing this wine undiluted, and
sighed deeply.
"Will you eat any of these beans, Cousin Porthos?" said Mme.
Coquenard, in that tone which says, "Take my advice, don''t
touch them."
"Devil take me if I taste one of them!" murmured Porthos to
himself, and then said aloud, "Thank you, my cousin, I am no
longer hungry."
There was silence. Porthos could hardly keep his
countenance.
The procurator repeated several times, "Ah, Madame
Coquenard! Accept my compliments; your dinner has been a
real feast. Lord, how I have eaten!"
M. Coquenard had eaten his soup, the black feet of the fowl,
and the only mutton bone on which there was the least
appearance of meat.
Porthos fancied they were mystifying him, and began to curl
his mustache and knit his eyebrows; but the knee of Mme.
Coquenard gently advised him to be patient.
This silence and this interruption in serving, which were
unintelligible to Porthos, had, on the contrary, a terrible
meaning for the clerks. Upon a look from the procurator,
accompanied by a smile from Mme. Coquenard, they arose
slowly from the table, folded their napkins more slowly
still, bowed, and retired.
"Go, young men! go and promote digestion by working," said
the procurator, gravely.
The clerks gone, Mme. Coquenard rose and took from a buffet
a piece of cheese, some preserved quinces, and a cake which
she had herself made of almonds and honey.
M. Coquenard knit his eyebrows because there were too many
good things. Porthos bit his lips because he saw not the
wherewithal to dine. He looked to see if the dish of beans
was still there; the dish of beans had disappeared.
"A positive feast!" cried M. Coquenard, turning about in his
chair, "a real feast, EPULCE EPULORUM. Lucullus dines with
Lucullus."
Porthos looked at the bottle, which was Dear him, and hoped
that with wine, bread, and cheese, he might make a dinner;
but wine was wanting, the bottle was empty. M. and Mme.
Coquenard did not seem to observe it.
"This is fine!" said Porthos to himself; "I am prettily
caught!"
He passed his tongue over a spoonful of preserves, and stuck
his teeth into the sticky pastry of Mme. Coquenard.
"Now," said he, "the sacrifice is consummated! Ah! if I had
not the hope of peeping with Madame Coquenard into her
husband''s chest!"
M. Coquenard, after the luxuries of such a repast, which he
called an excess, felt the want of a siesta. Porthos began
to hope that the thing would take place at the present
sitting, and in that same locality; but the procurator would
listen to nothing, he would be taken to his room, and was
not satisfied till he was close to his chest, upon the edge
of which, for still greater precaution, he placed his feet.
The procurator''s wife took Porthos into an adjoining room,
and they began to lay the basis of a reconciliation.
"You can come and dine three times a week," said Mme.
Coquenard.
"Thanks, madame!" said Porthos, "but I don''t like to abuse
your kindness; besides, I must think of my outfit!"
"That''s true," said the procurator''s wife, groaning, "that
unfortunate outfit!"
"Alas, yes," said Porthos, "it is so."
"But of what, then, does the equipment of your company
consist, Monsieur Porthos?"
"Oh, of many things!" said Porthos. "The Musketeers are, as
you know, picked soldiers, and they require many things
useless to the Guardsmen or the Swiss."
"But yet, detail them to me."
"Why, they may amount to--", said Porthos, who preferred
discussing the total to taking them one by one.
The procurator''s wife waited tremblingly.
"To how much?" said she. "I hope it does not exceed--" She
stopped; speech failed her.
"Oh, no," said Porthos, "it does not exceed two thousand
five hundred livres! I even think that with economy I could
manage it with two thousand livres."
"Good God!" cried she, "two thousand livres! Why, that is a
fortune!"
Porthos made a most significant grimace; Mme. Coquenard
understood it.
"I wished to know the detail," said she, "because, having
many relatives in business, I was almost sure of obtaining
things at a hundred per cent less than you would pay
yourself."
"Ah, ah!" said Porthos, "that is what you meant to say!"
"Yes, dear Monsieur Porthos. Thus, for instance, don''t you
in the first place want a horse?"
"Yes, a horse."
"Well, then! I can just suit you."
"Ah!" said Porthos, brightening, "that''s well as regards my
horse; but I must have the appointments complete, as they
include objects which a Musketeer alone can purchase, and
which will not amount, besides, to more than three hundred
livres."
"Three hundred livres? Then put down three hundred livres,"
said the procurator''s wife, with a sigh.
Porthos smiled. It may be remembered that he had the saddle
which came from Buckingham. These three hundred livres he
reckoned upon putting snugly into his pocket.
"Then," continued he, "there is a horse for my lackey, and
my valise. As to my arms, it is useless to trouble you
about them; I have them."
"A horse for your lackey?" resumed the procurator''s wife,
hesitatingly; "but that is doing things in lordly style, my
friend."
"Ah, madame!" said Porthos, haughtily; "do you take me for a
beggar?"
"No; I only thought that a pretty mule makes sometimes as
good an appearance as a horse, and it seemed to me that by
getting a pretty mule for Mousqueton--"
"Well, agreed for a pretty mule," said Porthos; "you are
right, I have seen very great Spanish nobles whose whole
suite were mounted on mules. But then you understand,
Madame Coquenard, a mule with feathers and bells."
"Be satisfied," said the procurator''s wife.
"There remains the valise," added Porthos.
"Oh, don''t let that disturb you," cried Mme. Coquenard. "My
husband has five or six valises; you shall choose the best.
There is one in particular which he prefers in his journeys,
large enough to hold all the world."
"Your valise is then empty?" asked Porthos, with simplicity.
"Certainly it is empty," replied the procurator''s wife, in
real innocence.
"Ah, but the valise I want," cried Porthos, "is a well-
filled one, my dear."
Madame uttered fresh sighs. Moliere had not written his
scene in "L''Avare" then. Mme. Coquenard was in the dilemma
of Harpagan.
Finally, the rest of the equipment was successively debated
in the same manner; and the result of the sitting was that
the procurator''s wife should give eight hundred livres in
money, and should furnish the horse and the mule which
should have the honor of carrying Porthos and Mousqueton to
glory.
These con***ions being agreed to, Porthos took leave of Mme.
Coquenard. The latter wished to detain him by darting
certain tender glances; but Porthos urged the commands of
duty, and the procurator''s wife was obliged to give place to
the king.
The Musketeer returned home hungry and in bad humor.

33 SOUBRETTE AND MISTRESS
Meantime, as we have said, despite the cries of his
conscience and the wise counsels of Athos, D''Artagnan became
hourly more in love with Milady. Thus he never failed to
pay his diurnal court to her; and the self-satisfied Gascon
was convinced that sooner or later she could not fail to
respond.
One day, when he arrived with his head in the air, and as
light at heart as a man who awaits a shower of gold, he
found the SOUBRETTE under the gateway of the hotel; but this
time the pretty Kitty was not contented with touching him as
he passed, she took him gently by the hand.
"Good!" thought D''Artagnan, "She is charged with some
message for me from her mistress; she is about to appoint
some rendezvous of which she had not courage to speak." And
he looked down at the pretty girl with the most triumphant
air imaginable.
"I wish to say three words to you, Monsieur Chevalier,"
stammered the SOUBRETTE.
"Speak, my child, speak," said D''Artagnan; "I listen."
"Here? Impossible! That which I have to say is too long,
and above all, too secret."
"Well, what is to be done?"
"If Monsieur Chevalier would follow me?" said Kitty,
timidly.
"Where you please, my dear child."
"Come, then."
And Kitty, who had not let go the hand of D''Artagnan, led
him up a little dark, winding staircase, and after ascending
about fifteen steps, opened a door.
"Come in here, Monsieur Chevalier," said she; "here we shall
be alone, and can talk."
"And whose room is this, my dear child?"
"It is mine, Monsieur Chevalier; it communicates with my
mistress''s by that door. But you need not fear. She will
not hear what we say; she never goes to bed before
midnight,"
D''Artagnan cast a glance around him. The little apartment
was charming for its taste and neatness; but in spite of
himself, his eyes were directed to that door which Kitty
said led to Milady''s chamber.
Kitty guessed what was passing in the mind of the young man,
and heaved a deep sigh.
"You love my mistress, then, very dearly, Monsieur
Chevalier?" said she.
"Oh, more than I can say, Kitty! I am mad for her!"
Kitty breathed a second sigh.
"Alas, monsieur," said she, "that is too bad."
"What the devil do you see so bad in it?" said D''Artagnan.
"Because, monsieur," replied Kitty, "my mistress loves you
not at all."
"HEIN!" said D''Artagnan, "can she have charged you to tell
me so?"
"Oh, no, monsieur; but out of the regard I have for you, I
have taken the resolution to tell you so."
"Much obliged, my dear Kitty; but for the intention only--for
the information, you must agree, is not likely to be at all
agreeable."
"That is to say, you don''t believe what I have told you; is
it not so?"
"We have always some difficulty in believing such things, my
pretty dear, were it only from self-love."
"Then you don''t believe me?"
"I confess that unless you deign to give me some proof of
what you advance--"
"What do you think of this?"
Kitty drew a little note from her bosom.
"For me?" said Derogation, seizing the letter.
"No; for another."
"For another?"
"Yes."
"His name; his name!" cried D''Artagnan.
"Read the address."
"Monsieur El Comte de Wardes."
The remembrance of the scene at St. Germain presented itself
to the mind of the presumptuous Gascon. As quick as
thought, he tore open the letter, in spite of the cry which
Kitty uttered on seeing what he was going to do, or rather,
what he was doing.
"Oh, good Lord, Monsieur Chevalier," said she, "what are you
doing?"
"I?" said D''Artagnan; "nothing," and he read,
"You have not answered my first note. Are you indisposed,
or have you forgotten the glances you favored me with at the
ball of Mme. de Guise? You have an opportunity now, Count;
do not allow it to escape."
D''Artagnan became very pale; he was wounded in his SELF-
love: he thought that it was in his LOVE.
"Poor dear Monsieur D''Artagnan," said Kitty, in a voice full
of compassion, and pressing anew the young man''s hand.
"You pity me, little one?" said D''Artagnan.
"Oh, yes, and with all my heart; for I know what it is to be
in love."
"You know what it is to be in love?" said D''Artagnan,
looking at her for the first time with much attention.
"Alas, yes."
"Well, then, instead of pitying me, you would do much better
to assist me in avenging myself on your mistress."
"And what sort of revenge would you take?"
"I would triumph over her, and supplant my rival."
"I will never help you in that, Monsieur Chevalier," said
Kitty, warmly.
"And why not?" demanded D''Artagnan.
"For two reasons."
"What ones?"
"The first is that my mistress will never love you."
"How do you know that?"
"You have cut her to the heart."
"I? In what can I have offended her--I who ever since I have
known her have lived at her feet like a slave? Speak, I beg
you!"
"I will never confess that but to the man--who should read to
the bottom of my soul!"
D''Artagnan looked at Kitty for the second time. The young
girl had freshness and beauty which many duchesses would
have purchased with their coronets.
"Kitty," said he, "I will read to the bottom of your soul
when-ever you like; don''t let that disturb you." And he gave
her a kiss at which the poor girl became as red as a cherry.
"Oh, no," said Kitty, "it is not me you love! It is my
mistress you love; you told me so just now."
"And does that hinder you from letting me know the second
reason?"
"The second reason, Monsieur the Chevalier," replied Kitty,
emboldened by the kiss in the first place, and still further
by the expression of the eyes of the young man, "is that in
love, everyone for herself!"
Then only D''Artagnan remembered the languishing glances of
Kitty, her constantly meeting him in the antechamber, the
corridor, or on the stairs, those touches of the hand every
time she met him, and her deep sighs; but absorbed by his
desire to please the great lady, he had disdained the
soubrette. He whose game is the eagle takes no heed of the
sparrow.
But this time our Gascon saw at a glance all the advantage
to be derived from the love which Kitty had just confessed
so innocently, or so boldly: the interception of letters
addressed to the Comte de Wardes, news on the spot, entrance
at all hours into Kitty''s chamber, which was contiguous to
her mistress''s. The perfidious deceiver was, as may plainly
be perceived, already sacrificing, in intention, the poor
girl in order to obtain Milady, willy-nilly.
"Well," said he to the young girl, "are you willing, my dear
Kitty, that I should give you a proof of that love which you
doubt?"
"What love?" asked the young girl.
"Of that which I am ready to feel toward you."
"And what is that proof?"
"Are you willing that I should this evening pass with you
the time I generally spend with your mistress?"
"Oh, yes," said Kitty, clapping her hands, "very willing."
"Well, then, come here, my dear," said D''Artagnan,
establishing himself in an easy chair; "come, and let me
tell you that you are the prettiest SOUBRETTE I ever saw!"
And he did tell her so much, and so well, that the poor
girl, who asked nothing better than to believe him, did
believe him. Nevertheless, to D''Artagnan''s great
astonishment, the pretty Kitty defended herself resolutely.
Time passes quickly when it is passed in attacks and
defenses. Midnight sounded, and almost at the same time the
bell was rung in Milady''s chamber.
"Good God," cried Kitty, "there is my mistress calling me!
Go; go directly!"
D''Artagnan rose, took his hat, as if it had been his
intention to obey, then, opening quickly the door of a large
closet instead of that leading to the staircase, he buried
himself amid the robes and dressing gowns of Milady.
"What are you doing?" cried Kitty.
D''Artagnan, who had secured the key, shut himself up in the
closet without reply.
"Well," cried Milady, in a sharp voice. "Are you asleep,
that you don''t answer when I ring?"
And D''Artagnan heard the door of communication opened
violently.
"Here am I, Milady, here am I!" cried Kitty, springing
forward to meet her mistress.
Both went into the bedroom, and as the door of communication
remained open, D''Artagnan could hear Milady for some time
scolding her maid. She was at length appeased, and the
conversation turned upon him while Kitty was assisting her
mistress.
"Well," said Milady, "I have not seen our Gascon this
evening."
"What, Milady! has he not come?" said Kitty. "Can he be
inconstant before being happy?"
"Oh, no; he must have been prevented by Monsieur de Treville
or Monsieur Dessessart. I understand my game, Kitty; I have
this one safe."
"What will you do with him, madame?"
"What will I do with him? Be easy, Kitty, there is
something between that man and me that he is quite ignorant
of: he nearly made me lose my cre*** with his Eminence. Oh,
I will be revenged!"
"I believed that Madame loved him."
"I love him? I detest him! An idiot, who held the life of
Lord de Winter in his bands and did not kill him, by which I
missed three hundred thousand livres'' income."
"That''s true," said Kitty; "your son was the only heir of
his uncle, and until his majority you would have had the
enjoyment of his fortune."
D''Artagnan shuddered to the marrow at hearing this suave
creature reproach him, with that sharp voice which she took
such pains to conceal in conversation, for not having killed
a man whom he had seen load her with kindnesses.
"For all this," continued Milady, "I should long ago have
revenged myself on him if, and I don''t know why, the
cardinal had not requested me to conciliate him."
"Oh, yes; but Madame has not conciliated that little woman
he was so fond of."
"What, the mercer''s wife of the Rue des Fossoyeurs? Has he
not already forgotten she ever existed? Fine vengeance
that, on my faith!"
A cold sweat broke from D''Artagnan''s brow. Why, this woman
was a monster! He resumed his listening, but unfortunately
the toilet was finished.
"That will do," said Milady; "go into your own room, and
tomorrow endeavor again to get me an answer to the letter I
gave you."
"For Monsieur de Wardes?" said Kitty.
"To be sure; for Monsieur de Wardes."
"Now, there is one," said Kitty, "who appears to me quite a
different sort of a man from that poor Monsieur D''Artagnan."
"Go to bed, mademoiselle," said Milady; "I don''t like
comments."
D''Artagnan heard the door close; then the noise of two bolts
by which Milady fastened herself in. On her side, but as
softly as possible, Kitty turned the key of the lock, and
then D''Artagnan opened the closet door.
"Oh, good Lord!" said Kitty, in a low voice, "what is the
matter with you? How pale you are!"
"The abominable creature" murmured D''Artagnan.
"Silence, silence, begone!" said Kitty. "There is nothing
but a wainscot between my chamber and Milady''s; every word
that is uttered in one can be heard in the other."
"That''s exactly the reason I won''t go," said D''Artagnan.
"What!" said Kitty, blushing.
"Or, at least, I will go--later."
He drew Kitty to him. She had the less motive to resist,
resistance would make so much noise. Therefore Kitty
surrendered.
It was a movement of vengeance upon Milady. D''Artagnan
believed it right to say that vengeance is the pleasure of
the gods. With a little more heart, he might have been
contented with this new conquest; but the principal features
of his character were ambition and pride. It must, however,
be confessed in his justification that the first use he made
of his influence over Kitty was to try and find out what had
become of Mme. Bonacieux; but the poor girl swore upon the
crucifix to D''Artagnan that she was entirely ignorant on
that head, her mistress never admitting her into half her
secrets--only she believed she could say she was not dead.
As to the cause which was near making Milady lose her cre***
with the cardinal, Kitty knew nothing about it; but this
time D''Artagnan was better informed than she was. As he had
seen Milady on board a vessel at the moment he was leaving
England, he suspected that it was, almost without a doubt,
on account of the diamond studs.
But what was clearest in all this was that the true hatred,
the profound hatred, the inveterate hatred of Milady, was
increased by his not having killed her brother-in-law.
D''Artagnan came the next day to Milady''s, and finding her in
a very ill-humor, had no doubt that it was lack of an answer
from M. de Wardes that provoked her thus. Kitty came in,
but Milady was very cross with her. The poor girl ventured
a glance at D''Artagnan which said, "See how I suffer on your
account!"
Toward the end of the evening, however, the beautiful
lioness became milder; she smilingly listened to the soft
speeches of D''Artagnan, and even gave him her hand to kiss.
D''Artagnan departed, scarcely knowing what to think, but as
he was a youth who did not easily lose his head, while
continuing to pay his court to Milady, he had framed a
little plan in his mind.
He found Kitty at the gate, and, as on the preceding
evening, went up to her chamber. Kitty had been accused of
negligence and severely scolded. Milady could not at all
comprehend the silence of the Comte de Wardes, and she
ordered Kitty to come at nine o''clock in the morning to take
a third letter.
D''Artagnan made Kitty promise to bring him that letter on
the following morning. The poor girl promised all her lover
desired; she was mad.
Things passed as on the night before. D''Artagnan concealed
himself in his closet; Milady called, undressed, sent away
Kitty, and shut the door. As the night before, D''Artagnan
did not return home till five o''clock in the morning.
At eleven o''clock Kitty came to him. She held in her hand a
fresh billet from Milady. This time the poor girl did not
even argue with D''Artagnan; she gave it to him at once. She
belonged body and soul to her handsome soldier.
D''Artagnan opened the letter and read as follows:
This is the third time I have written to you to tell you
that I love you. Beware that I do not write to you a fourth
time to tell you that I detest you.
If you repent of the manner in which you have acted toward
me, the young girl who brings you this will tell you how a
man of spirit may obtain his pardon.
D''Artagnan colored and grew pale several times in reading
this billet.
"Oh, you love her still," said Kitty, who had not taken her
eyes off the young man''s countenance for an instant.
"No, Kitty, you are mistaken. I do not love her, but I will
avenge myself for her contempt."
"Oh, yes, I know what sort of vengeance! You told me that!"
"What matters it to you, Kitty? You know it is you alone
whom I love."
"How can I know that?"
"By the scorn I will throw upon her."
D''Artagnan took a pen and wrote:
Madame, Until the present moment I could not believe that it
was to me your first two letters were addressed, so unworthy
did I feel myself of such an honor; besides, I was so
seriously indisposed that I could not in any case have
replied to them.
But now I am forced to believe in the excess of your
kindness, since not only your letter but your servant
assures me that I have the good fortune to be beloved by
you.
She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a man of
spirit may obtain his pardon. I will come and ask mine at
eleven o''clock this evening.
To delay it a single day would be in my eyes now to commit a
fresh offense.
>From him whom you have rendered the happiest of men,
Comte de Wardes
This note was in the first place a forgery; it was likewise
an indelicacy. It was even, according to our present
manners, something like an infamous action; but at that
period people did not manage affairs as they do today.
Besides, D''Artagnan from her own admission knew Milady
culpable of treachery in matters more important, and could
entertain no respect for her. And yet, notwithstanding this
want of respect, he felt an uncontrollable passion for this
woman boiling in his veins--passion drunk with contempt; but
passion or thirst, as the reader pleases.
D''Artagnan''s plan was very simple. By Kitty''s chamber he
could gain that of her mistress. He would take advantage of
the first moment of surprise, shame, and terror, to triumph
over her. He might fail, but something must be left to
chance. In eight days the campaign would open, and he would
be compelled to leave Paris; D''Artagnan had no time for a
prolonged love siege.
"There," said the young man, handing Kitty the letter
sealed; "give that to Milady. It is the count''s reply."
Poor Kitty became as pale as death; she suspected what the
letter contained.
"Listen, my dear girl," said D''Artagnan; "you cannot but
perceive that all this must end, some way or other. Milady
may discover that you gave the first billet to my lackey
instead of to the count''s; that it is I who have opened the
others which ought to have been opened by De Wardes. Milady
will then turn you out of doors, and you know she is not the
woman to limit her vengeance. "Alas!" said Kitty, "for whom
have I exposed myself to all that?"
"For me, I well know, my sweet girl," said D''Artagnan. "But
I am grateful, I swear to you."
"But what does this note contain?"
"Milady will tell you."
"Ah, you do not love me!" cried Kitty, "and I am very
wretched."
To this reproach there is always one response which deludes
women. D''Artagnan replied in such a manner that Kitty
remained in her great delusion. Although she cried freely
before deciding to transmit the letter to her mistress, she
did at last so decide, which was all D''Artagnan wished.
Finally he promised that he would leave her mistress''s
presence at an early hour that evening, and that when he
left the mistress he would ascend with the maid. This
promise completed poor Kitty''s consolation.

34 IN WHICH THE EQUIPMENT OF ARAMIS AND PORTHOS IS TREATED
OF
Since the four friends had been each in search of his
equipments, there had been no fixed meeting between them.
They dined apart from one another, wherever they might
happen to be, or rather where they could. Duty likewise on
its part took a portion of that precious time which was
gliding away so rapidly--only they had agreed to meet once a
week, about one o''clock, at the residence of Athos, seeing
that he, in agreement with the vow he had formed, did not
pass over the threshold of his door.
This day of reunion was the same day as that on which Kitty
came to find D''Artagnan. Soon as Kitty left him, D''Artagnan
directed his steps toward the Rue Ferou.
He found Athos and Aramis philosophizing. Aramis had some
slight inclination to resume the cassock. Athos, according
to his system, neither encouraged nor dissuaded him. Athos
believed that everyone should be left to his own free will.
He never gave advice but when it was asked, and even then he
required to be asked twice.
"People, in general," he said, "only ask advice not to
follow it; or if they do follow it, it is for the sake of
having someone to blame for having given it."
Porthos arrived a minute after D''Artagnan. The four friends
were reunited.
The four countenances expressed four different feelings:
that of Porthos, tranquillity; that of D''Artagnan, hope;
that of Aramis, uneasiness; that of Athos, carelessness.
At the end of a moment''s conversation, in which Porthos
hinted that a lady of elevated rank had condescended to
relieve him from his embarrassment, Mousqueton entered. He
came to request his master to return to his lodgings, where
his presence was urgent, as he piteously said.
"Is it my equipment?"
"Yes and no," replied Mousqueton.
"Well, but can''t you speak?"
"Come, monsieur."
Porthos rose, saluted his friends, and followed Mousqueton.
An instant after, Bazin made his appearance at the door.
"What do you want with me, my friend?" said Aramis, with
that mildness of language which was observable in him every
time that his ideas were directed toward the Church.
"A man wishes to see Monsieur at home," replied Bazin.
"A man! What man?"
"A mendicant."
"Give him alms, Bazin, and bid him pray for a poor sinner."
"This mendicant insists upon speaking to you, and pretends
that you will be very glad to see him."
"Has he sent no particular message for me?"
"Yes. If Monsieur Aramis hesitates to come," he said, "tell
him I am from Tours."
"From Tours!" cried Aramis. "A thousand pardons, gentlemen;
but no doubt this man brings me the news I expected." And
rising also, he went off at a quick pace. There remained
Athos and D''Artagnan.
"I believe these fellows have managed their business. What
do you think, D''Artagnan?" said Athos.
"I know that Porthos was in a fair way," replied D''Artagnan;
"and as to Aramis to tell you the truth, I have never been
seriously uneasy on his account. But you, my dear Athos--
you, who so generously distributed the Englishman''s
pistoles, which were our legitimate property--what do you
mean to do?"
"I am satisfied with having killed that fellow, my boy,
seeing that it is blessed bread to kill an Englishman; but
if I had pocketed his pistoles, they would have weighed me
down like a remorse.
"Go to, my dear Athos; you have truly inconceivable ideas."
"Let it pass. What do you think of Monsieur de Treville
telling me, when he did me the honor to call upon me
yesterday, that you associated with the suspected English,
whom the cardinal protects?"
"That is to say, I visit an Englishwoman--the one I named."
"Oh, ay! the fair woman on whose account I gave you advice,
which naturally you took care not to adopt."
"I gave you my reasons."
"Yes; you look there for your outfit, I think you said."
"Not at all. I have acquired certain knowledge that that
woman was concerned in the abduction of Madame Bonacieux."
"Yes, I understand now: to find one woman, you court
another. It is the longest road, but certainly the most
amusing."
D''Artagnan was on the point of telling Athos all; but one
consideration restrained him. Athos was a gentleman,
punctilious in points of honor; and there were in the plan
which our lover had devised for Milady, he was sure, certain
things that would not obtain the assent of this Puritan. He
was therefore silent; and as Athos was the least inquisitive
of any man on earth, D''Artagnan''s confidence stopped there.
We will therefore leave the two friends, who had nothing
important to say to each other, and follow Aramis.
Upon being informed that the person who wanted to speak to
him came from Tours, we have seen with what rapi***y the
young man followed, or rather went before, Bazin; he ran
without stopping from the Rue Ferou to the Rue de Vaugirard.
On entering he found a man of short stature and intelligent
eyes, but covered with rags.
"You have asked for me?" said the Musketeer.
"I wish to speak with Monsieur Aramis. Is that your name,
monsieur?"
"My very own. You have brought me something?"
"Yes, if you show me a certain embroidered handkerchief."
"Here it is," said Aramis, taking a small key from his
breast and opening a little ebony box inlaid with mother of
pearl, "here it is. Look."
"That is right," replied the mendicant; "dismiss your lackey."
In fact, Bazin, curious to know what the mendicant could
want with his master, kept pace with him as well as he
could, and arrived almost at the same time he did; but his
quickness was not of much use to him. At the hint from the
mendicant his master made him a sign to retire, and he was
obliged to obey.
Bazin gone, the mendicant cast a rapid glance around him in
order to be sure that nobody could either see or hear him,
and opening his ragged vest, badly held together by a
leather strap, he began to rip the upper part of his
doublet, from which he drew a letter.
Aramis uttered a cry of joy at the sight of the seal, kissed
the superscription with an almost religious respect, and
opened the epistle, which contained what follows:
"My Friend, it is the will of fate that we should be still
for some time separated; but the delightful days of youth
are not lost beyond return. Perform your duty in camp; I
will do mine elsewhere. Accept that which the bearer brings
you; make the campaign like a handsome true gentleman, and
think of me, who kisses tenderly your black eyes.
"Adieu; or rather, AU REVOIR."
The mendicant continued to rip his garments; and drew from
amid his rags a hundred and fifty Spanish double pistoles,
which he laid down on the table; then he opened the door,
bowed, and went out before the young man, stupefied by his
letter, had ventured to address a word to him.
Aramis then reperused the letter, and perceived a
postscript:
P.S. You may behave politely to the bearer, who is a count
and a grandee of Spain!
"Golden dreams!" cried Aramis. "Oh, beautiful life! Yes, we
are young; yes, we shall yet have happy days! My love, my
blood, my life! all, all, all, are thine, my adored
mistress!"
And he kissed the letter with passion, without even
vouchsafing a look at the gold which sparkled on the table.
Bazin scratched at the door, and as Aramis had no longer any
reason to exclude him, he bade him come in.
Bazin was stupefied at the sight of the gold, and forgot
that he came to announce D''Artagnan, who, curious to know
who the mendicant could be, came to Aramis on leaving Athos.
Now, as D''Artagnan used no ceremony with Aramis, seeing that
Bazin forgot to announce him, he announced himself.
"The devil! my dear Aramis," said D''Artagnan, "if these are
the prunes that are sent to you from Tours, I beg you will
make my compliments to the gardener who gathers them."
"You are mistaken, friend D''Artagnan," said Aramis, always
on his guard; "this is from my publisher, who has just sent
me the price of that poem in one-syllable verse which I
began yonder."
"Ah, indeed," said D''Artagnan. "Well, your publisher is
very generous, my dear Aramis, that''s all I can say."
"How, monsieur?" cried Bazin, "a poem sell so dear as that!
It is incredible! Oh, monsieur, you can write as much as you
like; you may become equal to Monsieur de Voiture and
Monsieur de Benserade. I like that. A poet is as good as
an abbe. Ah! Monsieur Aramis, become a poet, I beg of you."
"Bazin, my friend," said Aramis, "I believe you meddle with
my conversation."
Bazin perceived he was wrong; he bowed and went out.
"Ah!" said D''Artagnan with a smile, "you sell your
productions at their weight in gold. You are very
fortunate, my friend; but take care or you will lose that
letter which is peeping from your doublet, and which also
comes, no doubt, from your publisher."
Aramis blushed to the eyes, crammed in the letter, and
re-buttoned his doublet.
"My dear D''Artagnan," said he, "if you please, we will join
our friends; as I am rich, we will today begin to dine
together again, expecting that you will be rich in your
turn."
"My faith!" said D''Artagnan, with great pleasure. "It is
long since we have had a good dinner; and I, for my part,
have a somewhat hazardous expe***ion for this evening, and
shall not be sorry, I confess, to fortify myself with a few
glasses of good old Burgundy."
"Agreed, as to the old Burgundy; I have no objection to
that," said Aramis, from whom the letter and the gold had
removed, as by magic, his ideas of conversion.
And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket
to answer the needs of the moment, he placed the others in
the ebony box, inlaid with mother of pearl, in which was the
famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman.
The two friends repaired to Athos''s, and he, faithful to his
vow of not going out, took upon him to order dinner to be
brought to them. As he was perfectly acquainted with the
details of gastronomy, D''Artagnan and Aramis made no
objection to abandoning this important care to him.
They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac
met Mousqueton, who, with a most pitiable air, was driving
before him a mule and a horse.
D''Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite
free from joy.
"Ah, my yellow horse," cried he. "Aramis, look at that
horse!"
"Oh, the frightful brute!" said Aramis.
"Ah, my dear," replied D''Artagnan, "upon that very horse I
came to Paris."
"What, does Monsieur know this horse?" said Mousqueton.
"It is of an original color," said Aramis; "I never saw one
with such a hide in my life."
"I can well believe it," replied D''Artagnan, "and that was
why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his
hide, for, CERTESf, the carcass is not worth eighteen livres.
But bow did this horse come into your bands, Mousqueton?"
"Pray," said the lackey, "say nothing about it, monsieur; it
is a frightful trick of the husband of our duchess!"
"How is that, Mousqueton?"
"Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a
lady of quality, the Duchesse de--but, your pardon; my master
has commanded me to be discreet. She had forced us to
accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish GENET and an
Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The
husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the
two magnificent beasts which were being sent to us, and
substituted these horrible animals."
"Which you are taking back to him?" said D''Artagnan.
"Exactly!" replied Mousqueton. "You may well believe that we
will not accept such steeds as these in exchange for those
which had been promised to us."
"No, PARDIEU; though I should like to have seen Porthos on
my yellow horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked
when I arrived in Paris. But don''t let us hinder you,
Mousqueton; go and perform your master''s orders. Is he at
home?"
"Yes, monsieur," said Mousqueton, "but in a very ill humor.
Get up!"
He continued his way toward the Quai des Grands Augustins,
while the two friends went to ring at the bell of the
unfortunate Porthos. He, having seen them crossing the
yard, took care not to answer, and they rang in vain.
Meanwhile Mousqueton continued on his way, and crossing the
Pont Neuf, still driving the two sorry animals before him,
he reached the Rue aux Ours. Arrived there, he fastened,
according to the orders of his master, both horse and mule
to the knocker of the procurator''s door; then, without
taking any thought for their future, he returned to Porthos,
and told him that his commission was completed.
In a short time the two unfortunate beasts, who had not
eaten anything since the morning, made such a noise in
raising and letting fall the knocker that the procurator
ordered his errand boy to go and inquire in the neighborhood
to whom this horse and mule belonged.
Mme. Coquenard recognized her present, and could not at
first comprehend this restitution; but the visit of Porthos
soon enlightened her. The anger which fired the eyes of the
Musketeer, in spite of his efforts *****ppress it, terrified
his sensitive inamorata. In fact, Mousqueton had not
concealed from his master that he had met D''Artagnan and
Aramis, and that D''Artagnan in the yellow horse had
recognized the Bearnese pony upon which he had come to
Paris, and which he had sold for three crowns.
Porthos went away after having appointed a meeting with the
procurator''s wife in the cloister of St. Magloire. The
procurator, seeing he was going, invited him to dinner--an
invitation which the Musketeer refused with a majestic air.
Mme. Coquenard repaired trembling to the cloister of St.
Magloire, for she guessed the reproaches that awaited her
there; but she was fascinated by the lofty airs of Porthos.
All that which a man wounded in his self-love could let fall
in the shape of imprecations and reproaches upon the head of
a woman Porthos let fall upon the bowed head of the
procurator''s wife.
"Alas," said she, "I did all for the best! One of our
clients is a horsedealer; he owes money to the office, and
is backward in his pay. I took the mule and the horse for
what he owed us; he assured me that they were two noble
steeds."
"Well, madame," said Porthos, "if he owed you more than five
crowns, your horsedealer is a thief."
"There is no harm in trying to buy things cheap, Monsieur
Porthos," said the procurator''s wife, seeking to excuse
herself.
"No, madame; but they who so assiduously try to buy things
cheap ought to permit others to seek more generous friends."
And Porthos, turning on his heel, made a step to retire.
"Monsieur Porthos! Monsieur Porthos!" cried the
procurator''s wife. "I have been wrong; I see it. I ought
not to have driven a bargain when it was to equip a cavalier
like you."
Porthos, without reply, retreated a second step. The
procurator''s wife fancied she saw him in a brilliant cloud,
all surrounded by duchesses and marchionesses, who cast bags
of money at his feet.
"Stop, in the name of heaven, Monsieur Porthos!" cried she.
"Stop, and let us talk."
"Talking with you brings me misfortune," said Porthos.
"But, tell me, what do you ask?"
"Nothing; for that amounts to the same thing as if I asked
you for something."
The procurator''s wife hung upon the arm of Porthos, and in
the violence of her grief she cried out, "Monsieur Porthos,
I am ignorant of all such matters! How should I know what a
horse is? How should I know what horse furniture is?"
"You should have left it to me, then, madame, who know what
they are; but you wished to be frugal, and consequently to
lend at usury."
"It was wrong, Monsieur Porthos; but I will repair that
wrong, upon my word of honor."
"How so?" asked the Musketeer.
"Listen. This evening M. Coquenard is going to the house of
the Due de Chaulnes, who has sent for him. It is for a
consultation, which will last three hours at least. Come!
We shall be alone, and can make up our accounts."
"In good time. Now you talk, my dear."
"You pardon me?"
"We shall see," said Porthos, majestically; and the two
separated saying, "Till this evening."
"The devil!" thought Porthos, as he walked away, "it appears
I am getting nearer to Monsieur Coquenard''s strongbox at
last."

35 A GASCON A MATCH FOR CUPID
The evening so impatiently waited for by Porthos and by
D''Artagnan at last arrived.
As was his custom, D''Artagnan presented himself at Milady''s
at about nine o''clock. He found her in a charming humor.
Never had he been so well received. Our Gascon knew, by the
first glance of his eye, that his billet had been delivered,
and that this billet had had its effect.
Kitty entered to bring some sherbet. Her mistress put on a
charming face, and smiled on her graciously; but alas! the
poor girl was so sad that she did not even notice Milady''s
condescension.
D''Artagnan looked at the two women, one after the other, and
was forced to acknowledge that in his opinion Dame Nature
had made a mistake in their formation. To the great lady
she had given a heart vile and venal; to the SOUBRETTE she
had given the heart of a duchess.
At ten o''clock Milady began to appear restless. D''Artagnan
knew what she wanted. She looked at the clock, rose,
reseated herself, smiled at D''Artagnan with an air which
said, "You are very amiable, no doubt, but you would be
charming if you would only depart."
D''Artagnan rose and took his hat; Milady gave him her hand
to kiss. The young man felt her press his hand, and
comprehended that this was a sentiment, not of coquetry, but
of gratitude because of his departure.
"She loves him devilishly," he murmured. Then he went out.
This time Kitty was nowhere waiting for him; neither in the
antechamber, nor in the corridor, nor beneath the great
door. It was necessary that D''Artagnan should find alone
the staircase and the little chamber. She heard him enter,
but she did not raise her head. The young man went to her
and took her hands; then she sobbed aloud.
As D''Artagnan had presumed, on receiving his letter, Milady
in a delirium of joy had told her servant everything; and by
way of recompense for the manner in which she had this time
executed the commission, she had given Kitty a purse.
Returning to her own room, Kitty had thrown the purse into a
corner, where it lay open, disgorging three or four gold
pieces on the carpet. The poor girl, under the caresses of
D''Artagnan, lifted her head. D''Artagnan himself was
frightened by the change in her countenance. She joined her
hands with a suppliant air, but without venturing to speak a
word. As little sensitive as was the heart of D''Artagnan,
he was touched by this mute sorrow; but he held too
tenaciously to his projects, above all to this one, to
change the program which he had laid out in advance. He did
not therefore allow her any hope that he would flinch; only
he represented his action as one of simple vengeance.
For the rest this vengeance was very easy; for Milady,
doubtless to conceal her blushes from her lover, had ordered
Kitty to extinguish all the lights in the apartment, and
even in the little chamber itself. Before daybreak M. de
Wardes must take his departure, still in obscurity.
Presently they heard Milady retire to her room. D''Artagnan
slipped into the wardrobe. Hardly was he concealed when the
little bell sounded. Kitty went to her mistress, and did
not leave the door open; but the partition was so thin that
one could hear nearly all that passed between the two women.
Milady seemed overcome with joy, and made Kitty repeat the
smallest details of the pretended interview of the soubrette
with De Wardes when he received the letter; how he had
responded; what was the expression of his face; if he seemed
very amorous. And to all these questions poor Kitty, forced
to put on a pleasant face, responded in a stifled voice
whose dolorous accent her mistress did not however remark,
solely because happiness is egotistical.
Finally, as the hour for her interview with the count
approached, Milady had everything about her darkened, and
ordered Kitty to return to her own chamber, and introduce De
Wardes whenever he presented himself.
Kitty''s detention was not long. Hardly had D''Artagnan seen,
through a crevice in his closet, that the whole apartment
was in obscurity, than he slipped out of his concealment, at
the very moment when Kitty reclosed the door of
communication.
"What is that noise?" demanded Milady.
"It is I," said D''Artagnan in a subdued voice, "I, the Comte
de Wardes."
"Oh, my God, my God!" murmured Kitty, "he has not even
waited for the hour he himself named!"
"Well," said Milady, in a trembling voice, "why do you not
enter? Count, Count," added she, "you know that I wait for
you."
At this appeal D''Artagnan drew Kitty quietly away, and
slipped into the chamber.
If rage or sorrow ever torture the heart, it is when a lover
receives under a name which is not his own protestations of
love addressed to his happy rival. D''Artagnan was in a
dolorous situation which he had not foreseen. Jealousy
gnawed his heart; and he suffered almost as much as poor
Kitty, who at that very moment was crying in the next
chamber.
"Yes, Count," said Milady, in her softest voice, and
pressing his hand in her own, "I am happy in the love which
your looks and your words have expressed to me every time we
have met. I also--I love you. Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, I
must have some pledge from you which will prove that you
think of me; and that you may not forget me, take this!" and
she slipped a ring from her finger onto D''Artagnan''s.
D''Artagnan remembered having seen this ring on the finger of
Milady; it was a magnificent sapphire, encircled with
brilliants.
The first movement of D''Artagnan was to return it, but
Milady added, "No, no! Keep that ring for love of me.
Besides, in accepting it," she added, in a voice full of
emotion, "you render me a much greater service than you
imagine."
"This woman is full of mysteries," murmured D''Artagnan to
himself. At that instant he felt himself ready to reveal
all. He even opened his mouth to tell Milady who he was,
and with what a revengeful purpose he had come; but she
added, "Poor angel, whom that monster of a Gascon barely
failed to kill."
The monster was himself.
"Oh," continued Milady, "do your wounds still make you
suffer?"
"Yes, much," said D''Artagnan, who did not well know how to
answer.
"Be tranquil," murmured Milady; "I will avenge you--and
cruelly!"
"PESTE!" said D''Artagnan to himself, "the moment for
confidences has not yet come."
It took some time for D''Artagnan to resume this little
dialogue; but then all the ideas of vengeance which he had
brought with him had completely vanished. This woman
exercised over him an unaccountable power; he hated and
adored her at the same time. He would not have believed
that two sentiments so opposite could dwell in the same
heart, and by their union constitute a passion so strange,
and as it were, diabolical.
Presently it sounded one o''clock. It was necessary to
separate. D''Artagnan at the moment of quitting Milady felt
only the liveliest regret at the parting; and as they
addressed each other in a reciprocally passionate adieu,
another interview was arranged for the following week.
Poor Kitty hoped to speak a few words to D''Artagnan when he
passed through her chamber; but Milady herself reconducted
him through the darkness, and only quit him at the
staircase.
The next morning D''Artagnan ran to find Athos. He was
engaged in an adventure so singular that he wished for
counsel. He therefore told him all.
"Your Milady," said he, "appears to be an infamous creature,
but not the less you have done wrong to deceive her. In one
fashion or another you have a terrible enemy on your hands."
While thus speaking Athos regarded with attention the
sapphire set with diamonds which had taken, on D''Artagnan''s
finger, the place of the queen''s ring, carefully kept in a
casket.
"You notice my ring?" said the Gascon, proud to display so
rich a gift in the eyes of his friends.
"Yes," said Athos, "it reminds me of a family jewel."
"It is beautiful, is it not?" said D''Artagnan.
"Yes," said Athos, "magnificent. I did not think two
sapphires of such a fine water existed. Have you traded it
for your diamond?"
"No. It is a gift from my beautiful Englishwoman, or rather
Frenchwoman--for I am convinced she was born in France,
though I have not questioned her."
"That ring comes from Milady?" cried Athos, with a voice in
which it was easy to detect strong emotion.
"Her very self; she gave it me last night. Here it is,"
replied D''Artagnan, taking it from his finger.
Athos examined it and became very pale. He tried it on his
left hand; it fit his finger as if made for it.
A shade of anger and vengeance passed across the usually
calm brow of this gentleman.
"It is impossible it can be she," said be. "How could this
ring come into the hands of Milady Clarik? And yet it is
difficult *****ppose such a resemblance should exist between
two jewels."
"Do you know this ring?" said D''Artagnan.
"I thought I did," replied Athos; "but no doubt I was
mistaken." And he returned D''Artagnan the ring without,
however, ceasing to look at it.
"Pray, D''Artagnan," said Athos, after a minute, "either take
off that ring or turn the mounting inside; it recalls such
cruel recollections that I shall have no head to converse
with you. Don''t ask me for counsel; don''t tell me you are
perplexed what to do. But stop! let me look at that
sapphire again; the one I mentioned to you had one of its
faces scratched by accident."
D''Artagnan took off the ring, giving it again to Athos.
Athos started. "Look," said he, "is it not strange?" and he
pointed out to D''Artagnan the scratch he had remembered.
"But from whom did this ring come to you, Athos?"
"From my mother, who inherited it from her mother. As I
told you, it is an old family jewel."
"And you--sold it?" asked D''Artagnan, hesitatingly.
"No," replied Athos, with a singular smile. "I gave it away
in a night of love, as it has been given to you."
D''Artagnan became pensive in his turn; it appeared as if
there were abysses in Milady''s soul whose depths were dark
and unknown. He took back the ring, but put it in his
pocket and not on his finger.
"D''Artagnan," said Athos, taking his hand, "you know I love
you; if I had a son I could not love him better. Take my
advice, renounce this woman. I do not know her, but a sort
of intuition tells me she is a lost creature, and that there
is something fatal about her."
"You are right," said D''Artagnan; "I will have done with
her. I own that this woman terrifies me."
"Shall you have the courage?" said Athos.
"I shall," replied D''Artagnan, "and instantly."
"In truth, my young friend, you will act rightly," said the
gentleman, pressing the Gascon''s hand with an affection
almost paternal; "and God grant that this woman, who has
scarcely entered into your life, may not leave a terrible
trace in it!" And Athos bowed to D''Artagnan like a man who
wishes it understood that he would not be sorry to be left
alone with his thoughts.
On reaching home D''Artagnan found Kitty waiting for him. A
month of fever could not have changed her more than this one
night of sleeplessness and sorrow.
She was sent by her mistress to the false De Wardes. Her
mistress was mad with love, intoxicated with joy. She
wished to know when her lover would meet her a second night;
and poor Kitty, pale and trembling, awaited D''Artagnan''s
reply. The counsels of his friend, joined to the cries of
his own heart, made him determine, now his pride was saved
and his vengeance satisfied, not to see Milady again. As a
reply, he wrote the following letter:
Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting. Since
my convalescence I have so many affairs of this kind on my
hands that I am forced to regulate them a little. When your
turn comes, I shall have the honor to inform you of it. I
kiss your hands.
Comte de Wardes
Not a word about the sapphire. Was the Gascon determined to
keep it as a weapon against Milady, or else, let us be
frank, did he not reserve the sapphire as a last resource
for his outfit? It would be wrong to judge the actions of
one period from the point of view of another. That which
would now be considered as disgraceful to a gentleman was at
that time quite a simple and natural affair, and the younger
sons of the best families were frequently supported by their
mistresses. D''Artagnan gave the open letter to Kitty, who
at first was unable to comprehend it, but who became almost
wild with joy on reading it a second time. She could
scarcely believe in her happiness; and D''Artagnan was forced
to renew with the living voice the assurances which he had
written. And whatever might be--considering the violent
character of Milady--the danger which the poor girl incurred
in giving this billet to her mistress, she ran back to the
Place Royale as fast as her legs could carry her.
The heart of the best woman is pitiless toward the sorrows
of a rival.
Milady opened the letter with eagerness equal to Kitty''s in
bringing it; but at the first words she read she became
livid. She crushed the paper in her band, and turning with
flashing eyes upon Kitty, she cried, "What is this letter?"
"The answer to Madame''s," replied Kitty, all in a tremble.
"Impossible!" cried Milady. "It is impossible a gentleman
could have written such a letter to a woman." Then all at
once, starting, she cried, "My God! can he have--" and she
stopped. She ground her teeth; she was of the color of
ashes. She tried to go toward the window for air, but she
could only stretch forth her arms; her legs failed her, and
she sank into an armchair. Kitty, fearing she was ill,
hastened toward her and was beginning to open her dress; but
Milady started up, pushing her away. "What do you want with
me?" said she, "and why do you place your hand on me?"
"I thought that Madame was ill, and I wished to bring her
help," responded the maid, frightened at the terrible
expression which had come over her mistress''s face.
"I faint? I? I? Do you take me for half a woman? When I am
insulted I do not faint; I avenge myself!"
And she made a sign for Kitty to leave the room.

36 DREAM OF VENGEANCE
That evening Milady gave orders that when M. D''Artagnan came
as usual, he should be immediately admitted; but he did not
come.
The next day Kitty went to see the young man again, and
related to him all that had passed on the preceding evening.
D''Artagnan smiled; this jealous anger of Milady was his
revenge.
That evening Milady was still more impatient than on the
preceding evening. She renewed the order relative to the
Gascon; but as before she expected him in vain.
The next morning, when Kitty presented herself at
D''Artagnan''s, she was no longer joyous and alert as on the
two preceding days; but on the contrary sad as death.
D''Artagnan asked the poor girl what was the matter with her;
but she, as her only reply, drew a letter from her pocket
and gave it to him.
This letter was in Milady''s handwriting; only this time it
was addressed to M. D''Artagnan, and not to M. de Wardes.
He opened it and read as follows:
Dear M. d''Artagnan, It is wrong thus to neglect your
friends, particularly at the moment you are about to leave
them for so long a time. My brother-in-law and myself
expected you yesterday and the day before, but in vain.
Will it be the same this evening?
Your very grateful,
Milady Clarik
"That''s all very simple," said D''Artagnan; "I expected this
letter. My cre*** rises by the fall of that of the Comte de
Wardes."
"And will you go?" asked Kitty.
"Listen to me, my dear girl," said the Gascon, who sought
for an excuse in his own eyes for breaking the promise he
had made Athos; "you must understand it would be impolitic
not to accept such a positive invitation. Milady, not
seeing me come again, would not be able to understand what
could cause the interruption of my visits, and might suspect
something; who could say how far the vengeance of such a
woman would go?"
"Oh, my God!" said Kitty, "you know how to represent things
in such a way that you are always in the right. You are
going now to pay your court to her again, and if this time
you succeed in pleasing her in your own name and with your
own face, it will be much worse than before."
Instinct made poor Kitty guess a part of what was to happen.
D''Artagnan reassured her as well as he could, and promised
to remain insensible to the seductions of Milady.
He desired Kitty to tell her mistress that he could not be
more grateful for her kindnesses than he was, and that he
would be obedient to her orders. He did not dare to write
for fear of not being able--*****ch experienced eyes as those
of Milady--to disguise his writing sufficiently.
As nine o''clock sounded, D''Artagnan was at the Place Royale.
It was evident that the servants who waited in the
antechamber were warned, for as soon as D''Artagnan appeared,
before even he had asked if Milady were visible, one of them
ran to announce him.
"Show him in," said Milady, in a quick tone, but so piercing
that D''Artagnan heard her in the antechamber.
He was introduced.
"I am at home to nobody," said Milady; "observe, to nobody."
The servant went out.
D''Artagnan cast an inquiring glance at Milady. She was
pale, and looked fatigued, either from tears or want of
sleep. The number of lights had been intentionally
diminished, but the young woman could not conceal the traces
of the fever which had devoured her for two days.
D''Artagnan approached her with his usual gallantry. She
then made an extraordinary effort to receive him, but never
did a more distressed countenance give the lie to a more
amiable smile.
To the questions which D''Artagnan put concerning her health,
she replied, "Bad, very bad."
"Then," replied he, "my visit is ill-timed; you, no doubt,
stand in need of repose, and I will withdraw."
"No. no!" said Milady. "On the contrary, stay, Monsieur
D''Artagnan; your agreeable company will divert me."
"Oh, oh!" thought D''Artagnan. "She has never been so kind
before. On guard!"
Milady assumed the most agreeable air possible, and
conversed with more than her usual brilliancy. At the same
time the fever, which for an instant abandoned her, returned
to give luster to her eyes, color to her cheeks, and
vermillion to her lips. D''Artagnan was again in the
presence of the Circe who had before surrounded him with her
enchantments. His love, which he believed to be extinct but
which was only asleep, awoke again in his heart. Milady
smiled, and D''Artagnan felt that he could damn himself for
that smile. There was a moment at which he felt something
like remorse.
By degrees, Milady became more communicative. She asked
D''Artagnan if he had a mistress.
"Alas!" said D''Artagnan, with the most sentimental air he
could assume, "can you be cruel enough to put such a
question to me--to me, who, from the moment I saw you, have
only breathed and sighed through you and for you?"
Milady smiled with a strange smile.
"Then you love me?" said she.
"Have I any need to tell you so? Have you not perceived
it?"
"It may be; but you know the more hearts are worth the
capture, the more difficult they are to be won."
"Oh, difficulties do not affright me," said D''Artagnan. "I
shrink before nothing but impossibilities."
"Nothing is impossible," replied Milady, "to true love."
"Nothing, madame?"
"Nothing," replied Milady.
"The devil!" thought D''Artagnan. "The note is changed. Is
she going to fall in love with me, by chance, this fair
inconstant; and will she be disposed to give me myself
another sapphire like that which she gave me for De Wardes?"
D''Artagnan rapidly drew his seat nearer to Milady''s.
"Well, now," she said, "let us see what you would do to
prove this love of which you speak."
"All that could be required of me. Order; I am ready."
"For everything?"
"For everything," cried D''Artagnan, who knew beforehand that
he had not much to risk in engaging himself thus.
"Well, now let us talk a little seriously," said Milady, in
her turn drawing her armchair nearer to D''Artagnan''s chair.
"I am all attention, madame," said he.
Milady remained thoughtful and undecided for a moment; then,
as if appearing to have formed a resolution, she said, "I
have an enemy."
"You, madame!" said D''Artagnan, affecting surprise; "is
that possible, my God?--good and beautiful as you are!"
"A mortal enemy."
"Indeed!"
"An enemy who has insulted me so cruelly that between him
and me it is war to the death. May I reckon on you as an
auxiliary?"
D''Artagnan at once perceived the ground which the vindictive
creature wished to reach.
"You may, madame," said he, with emphasis. "My arm and my
life belong to you, like my love."
"Then," said Milady, "since you are as generous as you are
loving--"
She stopped.
"Well?" demanded D''Artagnan.
"Well," replied Milady, after a moment of silence, "from the
present time, cease to talk of impossibilities."
"Do not overwhelm me with happiness," cried D''Artagnan,
throwing himself on his knees, and covering with kisses the
hands abandoned to him.
"Avenge me of that infamous De Wardes," said Milady, between
her teeth, "and I shall soon know how to get rid of you--you
double idiot, you animated sword blade!"
"Fall voluntarily into my arms, hypocritical and dangerous
woman," said D''Artagnan, likewise to himself, "after having
abused me with such effrontery, and afterward I will laugh
at you with him whom you wish me to kill."
D''Artagnan lifted up his head.
"I am ready," said he.
"You have understood me, then, dear Monsieur D''Artagnan"
said Milady.
"I could interpret one of your looks."
"Then you would employ for me your arm which has already
acquired so much renown?"
"Instantly!"
"But on my part," said Milady, "how should I repay such a
service? I know these lovers. They are men who do nothing
for nothing."
"You know the only reply that I desire," said D''Artagnan,
"the only one worthy of you and of me!"
And he drew nearer to her.
She scarcely resisted.
"Interested man!" cried she, smiling.
"Ah," cried D''Artagnan, really carried away by the passion
this woman had the power to kindle in his heart, "ah, that
is because my happiness appears so impossible to me; and I
have such fear that it should fly away from me like a dream
that I pant to make a reality of it."
"Well, merit this pretended happiness, then!"
"I am at your orders," said D''Artagnan.
"Quite certain?" said Milady, with a last doubt.
"Only name to me the base man that has brought tears into
your beautiful eyes!"
"Who told you that I had been weeping?" said she.
"It appeared to me--"
"Such women as I never weep," said Milady.
"So much the better! Come, tell me his name!"
"Remember that his name is all my secret."
"Yet I must know his name."
"Yes, you must; see what confidence I have in you!"
"You overwhelm me with joy. What is his name?"
"You know him."
"Indeed."
"Yes.
"It is surely not one of my friends?" replied D''Artagnan,
affecting hesitation in order to make her believe him
ignorant.
"If it were one of your friends you would hesitate, then?"
cried Milady; and a threatening glance darted from her eyes.
"Not if it were my own brother!" cried D''Artagnan, as if
carried away by his enthusiasm.
Our Gascon promised this without risk, for he knew all that
was meant.
"I love your devotedness," said Milady.
"Alas, do you love nothing else in me?" asked D''Artagnan.
"I love you also, YOU!" said she, taking his hand.
The warm pressure made D''Artagnan tremble, as if by the
touch that fever which consumed Milady attacked himself.
"You love me, you!" cried he. "Oh, if that were so, I should lose my reason!"
And he folded her in his arms, She made no effort to remove
her lips from his kisses; only she did not respond to them.
Her lips were cold; it appeared to D''Artagnan that he had
embraced a statue.
He was not the less intoxicated with joy, electrified by
love. He almost believed in the tenderness of Milady; he
almost believed in the crime of De Wardes. If De Wardes had
at that moment been under his hand, he would have killed
him.
Milady seized the occasion,
"His name is--" said she, in her turn.
"De Wardes; I know it," cried D''Artagnan.
"And how do you know it?" asked Milady, seizing both his
hands, and endeavoring to read with her eyes to the bottom
of his heart.
D''Artagnan felt he had allowed himself to be carried away,
and that he had committed an error.
"Tell me, tell me, tell me, I say," repeated Milady, "how do
you know it?"
"How do I know it?" said D''Artagnan.
"Yes."
"I know it because yesterday Monsieur de Wardes, in a saloon
where I was, showed a ring which he said he had received
from you."
"Wretch!" cried Milady.
The epithet, as may be easily understood, resounded to the
very bottom of D''Artagnan''s heart.
"Well?" continued she.
"Well, I will avenge you of this wretch," replied
D''Artagnan, giving himself the airs of Don Japhet of
Armenia.
"Thanks, my brave friend!" cried Milady; "and when shall I
be avenged?"
"Tomorrow--immediately--when you please!"
Milady was about to cry out, "Immediately," but she
reflected that such precipitation would not be very gracious
toward D''Artagnan.
Besides, she had a thousand precautions to take, a thousand
counsels to give to her defender, in order that he might
avoid explanations with the count before witnesses. All
this was answered by an expression of D''Artagnan''s.
"Tomorrow," said he, "you will be avenged, or I shall be
dead."
"No," said she, "you will avenge me; but you will not be
dead. He is a coward."
"With women, perhaps; but not with men. I know something of
him."
"But it seems you had not much reason to complain of your
fortune in your contest with him."
"Fortune is a courtesan; favorable yesterday, she may turn
her back tomorrow."
"Which means that you now hesitate?"
"No, I do not hesitate; God forbid! But would it be just to
allow me to go to a possible death without having given me
at least something more than hope?"
Milady answered by a glance which said, "Is that all?--speak,
then." And then accompanying the glance with explanatory
words, "That is but too just," said she, tenderly.
"Oh, you are an angel!" exclaimed the young man.
"Then all is agreed?" said she.
"Except that which I ask of you, dear love."
"But when I assure you that you may rely on my tenderness?"
"I cannot wait till tomorrow."
"Silence! I hear my brother. It will be useless for him to
find you here."
She rang the bell and Kitty appeared.
"Go out this way," said she, opening a small private door,
"and come back at eleven o''clock; we will then terminate
this conversation. Kitty will conduct you to my chamber."
The poor girl almost fainted at hearing these words.
"Well, mademoiselle, what are you thinking about, standing
there like a statue? Do as I bid you: show the chevalier
out; and this evening at eleven o''clock--you have heard what
I said."
"It appears that these appointments are all made for eleven
o''clock," thought D''Artagnan; "that''s a settled custom."
Milady held out her hand to him, which he kissed tenderly.
367
"But," said he, as he retired as quickly as possible from
the reproaches of Kitty, "I must not play the fool. This
woman is certainly a great liar. I must take care."

37 MILADY''S SECRET
D''Artagnan left the hotel instead of going up at once to
Kitty''s chamber, as she endeavored to persuade him to do--and
that for two reasons: the first, because by this means he
should escape reproaches, recriminations, and prayers; the
second, because be was not sorry to have an opportunity of
reading his own thoughts and endeavoring, if possible, to
fathom those of this woman.
What was most clear in the matter was that D''Artagnan loved
Milady like a madman, and that she did not love him at all.
In an instant D''Artagnan perceived that the best way in
which he could act would be to go home and write Milady a
long letter, in which he would confess to her that he and De
Wardes were, up to the present moment absolutely the same,
and that consequently he could not undertake, without
committing suicide, to kill the Comte de Wardes. But be
also was spurred on by a ferocious desire of vengeance. He
wished *****bdue this woman in his own name; and as this
vengeance appeared to him to have a certain sweetness in it,
he could not make up his mind to renounce it.
He walked six or seven times round the Place Royale, turning
at every ten steps to look at the light in Milady''s
apartment, which was to be seen through the blinds. It was
evident that this time the young woman was not in such haste
to retire to her apartment as she had been the first.
At length the light disappeared. With this light was
extinguished the last irresolution in the heart of
D''Artagnan. He recalled to his mind the details of the
first night, and with a beating heart and a brain on fire he
re-entered the hotel and flew toward Kitty''s chamber.
The poor girl, pale as death and trembling in all her limbs,
wished to delay her lover; but Milady, with her ear on the
watch, had heard the noise D''Artagnan had made, and opening
the door, said, "Come in."
All this was of such incredible immodesty, of such monstrous
effrontery, that D''Artagnan could scarcely believe what he
saw or what he heard. He imagined himself to be drawn into
one of those fantastic intrigues one meets in dreams. He,
however, darted not the less quickly toward Milady, yielding
to that magnetic attraction which the loadstone exercises
over iron.
As the door closed after them Kitty rushed toward it.
Jealousy, fury, offended pride, all the passions in short
that dispute the heart of an outraged woman in love, urged
her to make a revelation; but she reflected that she would
be totally lost if she confessed having assisted in such a
machination, and above all, that D''Artagnan would also be
lost to her forever. This last thought of love counseled
her to make this last sacrifice.
D''Artagnan, on his part, had gained the summit of all his
wishes. It was no longer a rival who was beloved; it was
himself who was apparently beloved. A secret voice
whispered to him, at the bottom of his heart, that he was
but an instrument of vengeance, that he was only caressed
till he had given death; but pride, but self-love, but
madness silenced this voice and stifled its murmurs. And
then our Gascon, with that large quantity of conceit which
we know he possessed, compared himself with De Wardes, and
asked himself why, after all, he should not be beloved for
himself?
He was absorbed entirely by the sensations of the moment.
Milady was no longer for him that woman of fatal intentions
who had for a moment terrified him; she was an ardent,
passionate mistress, abandoning herself to love which she
also seemed to feel. Two hours thus glided away. When the
transports of the two lovers were calmer, Milady, who had
not the same motives for forgetfulness that D''Artagnan had,
was the first to return to reality, and asked the young man
if the means which were on the morrow to bring on the
encounter between him and De Wardes were already arranged in
his mind.
But D''Artagnan, whose ideas had taken quite another course,
forgot himself like a fool, and answered gallantly that it
was too late to think about duels and sword thrusts.
This coldness toward the only interests that occupied her
mind terrified Milady, whose questions became more pressing.
Then D''Artagnan, who had never seriously thought of this
impossible duel, endeavored to turn the conversation; but he
could not succeed. Milady kept him within the limits she
had traced beforehand with her irresistible spirit and her
iron will.
D''Artagnan fancied himself very cunning when advising Milady
to renounce, by pardoning De Wardes, the furious projects
she had formed.
But at the first word the young woman started, and exclaimed
in a sharp, bantering tone. which sounded strangely in the
darkness, "Are you afraid, dear Monsieur D''Artagnan?"
"You cannot think so, dear love!" replied D''Artagnan; "but
now, suppose this poor Comte de Wardes were less guilty than
you think him?"
"At all events," said Milady, seriously, "he has deceived
me, and from the moment he deceived me, he merited death."
"He shall die, then, since you condemn him!" said
D''Artagnan, in so firm a tone that it appeared to Milady an
undoubted proof of devotion. This reassured her.
We cannot say how long the night seemed to Milady, but
D''Artagnan believed it to be hardly two hours before the
daylight peeped through the window blinds, and invaded the
chamber with its paleness. Seeing D''Artagnan about to leave
her, Milady recalled his promise to avenge her on the Comte
de Wardes.
"I am quite ready," said D''Artagnan; "but in the first place
I should like to be certain of one thing."
"And what is that?" asked Milady.
"That is, whether you really love me?"
"I have given you proof of that, it seems to me."
"And I am yours, body and soul!"
"Thanks, my brave lover; but as you are satisfied of my
love, you must, in your turn, satisfy me of yours. Is it
not so?"
"Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say," replied
D''Artagnan, "do you not entertain a little fear on my
account?"
"What have I to fear?"
"Why, that I may be dangerously wounded--killed even."
"Impossible!" cried Milady, "you are such a valiant man, and
such an expert swordsman."
"You would not, then, prefer a method," resumed D''Artagnan,
"which would equally avenge you while rendering the combat
useless?"
Milady looked at her lover in silence. The pale light of
the first rays of day gave to her clear eyes a strangely
frightful expression.
"Really," said she, "I believe you now begin to hesitate."
"No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte de
Wardes, since you have ceased to love him. I think that a
man must be so severely punished by the loss of your love
that he stands in need of no other chastisement."
"Who told you that I loved him?" asked Milady, sharply.
"At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too much
fatuity, that you love another," said the young man, in a
caressing tone, "and I repeat that I am really interested
for the count."
"You?" asked Milady.
"Yes, I."
"And why YOU?"
"Because I alone know--"
"What?"
"That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guilty
toward you as he appears."
"Indeed!" said Milady, in an anxious tone; "explain
yourself, for I really cannot tell what you mean."
And she looked at D''Artagnan, who embraced her tenderly,
with eyes which seemed to burn themselves away.
"Yes; I am a man of honor," said D''Artagnan, determined to
come to an end, "and since your love is mine, and I am
satisfied I possess it--for I do possess it, do I not?"
"Entirely; go on."
"Well, I feel as if transformed--a confession weighs on my
mind."
"A confession!"
"If I had the least doubt of your love I would not make it,
but you love me, my beautiful mistress, do you not?"
"Without doubt."
"Then if through excess of love I have rendered myself
culpable toward you, you will pardon me?"
"Perhaps."
D''Artagnan tried with his sweetest smile to touch his lips
to Milady''s, but she evaded him.
"This confession," said she, growing paler, "what is this
confession?"
"You gave De Wardes a meeting on Thursday last in this very
room, did you not?"
"No, no! It is not true," said Milady, in a tone of voice so
firm, and with a countenance so unchanged, that if
D''Artagnan had not been in such perfect possession of the
fact, he would have doubted.
"Do not lie, my angel," said D''Artagnan, smiling; "that
would be useless."
"What do you mean? Speak! you kill me."
"Be satisfied; you are not guilty toward me, and I have
already pardoned you."
"What next? what next?"
"De Wardes cannot boast of anything."
"How is that? You told me yourself that that ring--"
"That ring I have! The Comte de Wardes of Thursday and the
D''Artagnan of today are the same person."
The imprudent young man expected a surprise, mixed with
shame--a slight storm which would resolve itself into tears;
but he was strangely deceived, and his error was not of long
duration.
Pale and trembling, Milady repulsed D''Artagnan''s attempted
embrace by a violent blow on the chest, as she sprang out of
bed.
It was almost broad daylight.
D''Artagnan detained her by her night dress of fine India
linen, to implore her pardon; but she, with a strong
movement, tried to escape. Then the cambric was torn from
her beautiful shoulders; and on one of those lovely
shoulders, round and white, D''Artagnan recognized, with
inexpressible astonishment, the FLEUR-DE-LIS--that indelible
mark which the hand of the infamous executioner had
imprinted.
"Great God!" cried D''Artagnan, loosing his hold of her
dress, and remaining mute, motionless, and frozen.
But Milady felt herself denounced even by his terror. He
had doubtless seen all. The young man now knew her secret,
her terrible secret--the secret she concealed even from her
maid with such care, the secret of which all the world was
ignorant, except himself.
She turned upon him, no longer like a furious woman, but
like a wounded panther.
"Ah, wretch!" cried she, "you have basely betrayed me, and
still more, you have my secret! You shall die."
And she flew to a little inlaid casket which stood upon the
dressing table, opened it with a feverish and trembling
band, drew from it a small poniard, with a golden haft and a
sharp thin blade, and then threw herself with a bound upon
D''Artagnan.
Although the young man was brave, as we know, he was
terrified at that wild countenance, those terribly dilated
pupils, those pale cheeks, and those bleeding lips. He
recoiled to the other side of the room as he would have done
from a serpent which was crawling toward him, and his sword
coming in contact with his nervous hand, he drew it almost
unconsciously from the scabbard. But without taking any
heed of the sword, Milady endeavored to get near enough to
him to stab him, and did not stop till she felt the sharp
point at her throat.
She then tried to seize the sword with her hands; but
D''Artagnan kept it free from her grasp, and presenting the
point, sometimes at her eyes, sometimes at her breast,
compelled her to glide behind the bedstead, while he aimed
at making his retreat by the door which led to Kitty''s
apartment.
Milady during this time continued to strike at him with
horrible fury, screaming in a formidable way.
As all this, however, bore some resemblance to a duel,
D''Artagnan began to recover himself little by little.
"Well, beautiful lady, very well," said be; "but, PARDIEU,
if you don''t calm yourself, I will design a second
FLEUR-DE-LIS upon one of those pretty checks!"
"Scoundrel, infamous scoundrel!" howled Milady.
But D''Artagnan, still keeping on the defensive, drew near to
Kitty''s door. At the noise they made, she in overturning
the furniture in her efforts to get at him, he in screening
himself behind the furniture to keep out of her reach, Kitty
opened the door. D''Artagnan, who had unceasingly maneuvered
to gain this point, was not at more than three paces from
it. With one spring he flew from the chamber of Milady into
that of the maid, and quick as lightning, he slammed to the
door, and placed all his weight against it, while Kitty
pushed the bolts.
Then Milady attempted to tear down the doorcase, with a
strength apparently above that of a woman; but finding she
could not accomplish this, she in her fury stabbed at the
door with her poniard, the point of which repeatedly
glittered through the wood. Every blow was accompanied with
terrible imprecations.
"Quick, Kitty, quick!" said D''Artagnan, in a low voice, as
soon as the bolts were fast, "let me get out of the hotel;
for if we leave her time to turn round, she will have me
killed by the servants."
"But you can''t go out so," said Kitty; "you are naked."
"That''s true," said D''Artagnan, then first thinking of the
costume he found himself in, "that''s true. But dress me as
well as you are able, only make haste; think, my dear girl,
it''s life and death!"
Kitty was but too well aware of that. In a turn of the hand
she muffled him up in a flowered robe, a large hood, and a
cloak. She gave him some slippers, in which he placed his
naked feet, and then conducted him down the stairs. It was
time. Milady had already rung her bell, and roused the
whole hotel. The porter was drawing the cord at the moment
Milady cried from her window, "Don''t open!"
The young man fled while she was still threatening him with
an impotent gesture. The moment she lost sight of him,
Milady tumbled fainting into her chamber.

38 HOW, WIHTOUT INCOMMODING HIMSELF, ATHOS PROCURES HIS EQUIPMENT
D''Artagnan was so completely bewildered that without taking
any heed of what might become of Kitty he ran at full speed
across half Paris, and did not stop till he came to Athos''s
door. The confusion of his mind, the terror which spurred
him on, the cries of some of the patrol who started in
pursuit of him, and the hooting of the people who,
notwithstanding the early hour, were going to their work,
only made him precipitate his course.
He crossed the court, ran up the two flights to Athos''s
apartment, and knocked at the door enough to break it down.
Grimaud came, rubbing his half-open eyes, to answer this
noisy summons, and D''Artagnan sprang with such violence into
the room as nearly to overturn the astonished lackey.
In spite of his habitual silence, the poor lad this time
found his speech.
"Holloa, there!" cried he; "what do you want, you strumpet?
What''s your business here, you hussy?"
D''Artagnan threw off his hood, and disengaged his hands from
the folds of the cloak. At sight of the mustaches and the
naked sword, the poor devil perceived he had to deal with a
man. He then concluded it must be an assassin.
"Help! murder! help!" cried he.
"Hold your tongue, you stupid fellow!" said the young man; "I am
D''Artagnan; don''t you know me? Where is your master?"
"You, Monsieur D''Artagnan!" cried Grimaud, "impossible."
"Grimaud," said Athos, coming out of his apartment in a
dressing gown, "Grimaud, I thought I heard you permitting
yourself to speak?"
"Ah, monsieur, it is--"
"Silence!"
Grimaud contented himself with pointing D''Artagnan out to
his master with his finger.
Athos recognized his comrade, and phlegmatic as he was, he
burst into a laugh which was quite excused by the strange
masquerade before his eyes--petticoats falling over his
shoes, sleeves tucked up, and mustaches stiff with
agitation.
"Don''t laugh, my friend!" cried D''Artagnan; "for heaven''s
sake, don''t laugh, for upon my soul, it''s no laughing
matter!"
And he pronounced these words with such a solemn air and
with such a real appearance of terror, that Athos eagerly
seized his hand, crying, "Are you wounded, my friend? How
pale you are!"
"No, but I have just met with a terrible adventure! Are you
alone, Athos?"
"PARBLEU! whom do you expect to find with me at this hour?"
"Well, well!" and D''Artagnan rushed into Athos''s chamber.
"Come, speak!" said the latter, closing the door and bolting
it, that they might not be disturbed. "Is the king dead?
Have you killed the cardinal? You are quite upset! Come,
come, tell me; I am dying with curiosity and uneasiness!"
"Athos," said D''Artagnan, getting rid of his female
garments, and appearing in his shirt, "prepare yourself to
hear an incredible, an unheard-of story."
"Well, but put on this dressing gown first," said the
Musketeer to his friend.
D''Artagnan donned the robe as quickly as he could, mistaking
one sleeve for the other, so greatly was he still agitated.
"Well?" said Athos.
"Well," replied D''Artagnan, bending his mouth to Athos''s
ear, and lowering his voice, "Milady is marked with a
FLEUR-DE-LIS upon her shoulder!"
"Ah!" cried the Musketeer, as if he had received a ball in
his heart.
"Let us see," said D''Artagnan. "Are you SURE that the OTHER
is dead?"
"THE OTHER?" said Athos, in so stifled a voice that
D''Artagnan scarcely heard him.
"Yes, she of whom you told me one day at Amiens."
Athos uttered a groan, and let his head sink on his hands.
"This is a woman of twenty-six or twenty-eight years."
"Fair," said Athos, "is she not?"
"Very."
"Blue and clear eyes, of a strange brilliancy, with black
eyelids and eyebrows?"
"Yes."
"Tall, well-made? She has lost a tooth, next to the
eyetooth on the left?"
"Yes."
"The FLEUR-DE-LIS is small, rosy in color, and looks as if
efforts had been made to efface it by the application of
poultices?"
"Yes."
"But you say she is English?"
"She is called Milady, but she may be French. Lord de
Winter is only her brother-in-law,"
"I will see her, D''Artagnan!"
"Beware, Athos, beware. You tried to kill her; she is a
woman to return you the like, and not to fail."
"She will not dare to say anything; that would be to
denounce herself."
"She is capable of anything or everything. Did you ever see
her furious?"
"No," said Athos.
"A tigress, a panther! Ah, my dear Athos, I am greatly
afraid I have drawn a terrible vengeance on both of us!"
D''Artagnan then related all--the mad passion of Milady and
her menaces of death.
"You are right; and upon my soul, I would give my life for a
hair," said Athos. "Fortunately, the day after tomorrow we
leave Paris. We are going according to all probability to
La Rochelle, and once gone--"
"She will follow you to the end of the world, Athos, if she
recognizes you. Let her, then, exhaust her vengeance on me
alone!"
"My dear friend, of what consequence is it if she kills me?"
said Athos. "Do you, perchance, think I set any great store
by life?"
"There is something horribly mysterious under all this,
Athos; this woman is one of the cardinal''s spies, I am sure
of that."
"In that case, take care! If the cardinal does not hold you
in high admiration for the affair of London, he entertains a
great hatred for you; but as, considering everything, he
cannot accuse you openly, and as hatred must be satisfied,
particularly when it''s a cardinal''s hatred, take care of
yourself. If you go out, do not go out alone; when you eat,
use every precaution. Mistrust everything, in short, even
your own shadow."
"Fortunately," said D''Artagnan, "all this will be only
necessary till after tomorrow evening, for when once with
the army, we shall have, I hope, only men to dread."
"In the meantime," said Athos, "I renounce my plan of
seclusion, and wherever you go, I will go with you. You
must return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs; I will accompany
you."
"But however near it may be," replied D''Artagnan, "I cannot
go thither in this quise."
"That''s true," said Athos, and he rang the bell.
Grimaud entered.
Athos made him a sign to go to D''Artagnan''s residence, and
bring back some clothes. Grimaud replied by another sign
that be understood perfectly, and set off.
"All this will not advance your outfit," said Athos; "for if
I am not mistaken, you have left the best of your apparel
with Milady, and she will certainly not have the politeness
to return it to you. Fortunately, you have the sapphire."
"The jewel is yours, my dear Athos! Did you not tell me it
was a family jewel?"
"Yes, my grandfather gave two thousand crowns for it, as he
once told me. It formed part of the nuptial present he made
his wife, and it is magnificent. My mother gave it to me,
and I, fool as I was, instead of keeping the ring as a holy
relic, gave it to this wretch."
"Then, my friend, take back this ring, to which I see you
attach much value."
"I take back the ring, after it has passed through the hands
of that infamous creature Never; that ring is defiled,
D''Artagnan.
"Sell it, then."
"Sell a jewel which came from my mother! I vow I should
consider it a profanation."
"Pledge it, then; you can borrow at least a thousand crowns
on it. With that sum you can extricate yourself from your
present difficulties; and when you are full of money again,
you can redeem it, and take it back cleansed from its
ancient stains, as it will have passed through the hands of
usurers."
Athos smiled.
"You are a capital companion, D''Artagnan," said be; "your
never-failing cheerfulness raises poor souls in affliction.
Well, let us pledge the ring, but upon one con***ion."
"What?"
"That there shall be five hundred crowns for you, and five
hundred crowns for me."
"Don''t dream it, Athos. I don''t need the quarter of such a
sum--I who am still only in the Guards--and by selling my
saddles, I shall procure it. What do I want? A horse for
Planchet, that''s all. Besides, you forget that I have a
ring likewise."
"To which you attach more value, it seems, than I do to
mine; at least, I have thought so."
"Yes, for in any extreme circumstance it might not only
extricate us from some great embarrassment, but even a great
danger. It is not only a valuable diamond, but it is an
enchanted talisman."
"I don''t at all understand you, but I believe all you say to
be true. Let us return to my ring, or rather to yours. You
shall take half the sum that will be advanced upon it, or I
will throw it into the Seine; and I doubt, as was the case
with Polycrates, whether any fish will be sufficiently
complaisant to bring it back to us."
"Well, I will take it, then," said D''Artagnan.
At this moment Grimaud returned, accompanied by Planchet;
the latter, anxious about his master and curious to know
what had happened to him, had taken advantage of the
opportunity and brought the garments himself.
D''Artagnan dressed himself, and Athos did the same. When
the two were ready to go out, the latter made Grimaud the
sign of a man taking aim, and the lackey immediately took
down his musketoon, and prepared to follow his master.
They arrived without accident at the Rue des Fossoyeurs.
Bonacieux was standing at the door, and looked at D''Artagnan
hatefully.
"Make haste, dear lodger," said he; "there is a very pretty
girl waiting for you upstairs; and you know women don''t like
to be kept waiting."
"That''s Kitty!" said D''Artagnan to himself, and darted into
the passage.
Sure enough! Upon the landing leading to the chamber, and
crouching against the door, he found the poor girl, all in a
tremble. As soon as she perceived him, she cried, "You have
promised your protection; you have promised to save me from
her anger. Remember, it is you who have ruined me!"
"Yes, yes, to be sure, Kitty," said D''Artagnan; "be at ease,
my girl. But what happened after my departure?"
"How can I tell!" said Kitty. "The lackeys were brought by
the cries she made. She was mad with passion. There exist
no imprecations she did not pour out against you. Then I
thought she would remember it was through my chamber you had
penetrated hers, and that then she would suppose I was your
accomplice; so I took what little money I had and the best
of my things, and I got away.
"Poor dear girl! But what can I do with you? I am going
away the day after tomorrow."
"Do what you please, Monsieur Chevalier. Help me out of
Paris; help me out of France!"
"I cannot take you, however, to the siege of La Rochelle,"
aid D''Artagnan.
"No; but you can place me in one of the provinces with some
lady of your acquaintance--in your own country, for
instance."
"My dear little love! In my country the ladies do without
chambermaids. But stop! I can manage your business for
you. Planchet, go and find Aramis. Request him to come
here directly. We have something very important to say to
him."
"I understand," said Athos; "but why not Porthos? I should
have thought that his duchess--"
"Oh, Porthos''s duchess is dressed by her husband''s clerks,"
said D''Artagnan, laughing. "Besides, Kitty would not like
to live in the Rue aux Ours. Isn''t it so, Kitty?"
"I do not care where I live," said Kitty, "provided I am
well concealed, and nobody knows where I am."
"Meanwhile, Kitty, when we are about to separate, and you
are no longer jealous of me--"
"Monsieur Chevalier, far off or near," said Kitty, "I shall
always love you."
"Where the devil will constancy niche itself next?" murmured
Athos.
"And I, also," said D''Artagnan, "I also. I shall always
love you; be sure of that. But now answer me. I attach
great importance to the question I am about to put to you.
Did you never hear talk of a young woman who was carried off
one night?"
"There, now! Oh, Monsieur Chevalier, do you love that woman
still?"
"No, no; it is one of my friends who loves her--Monsieur
Athos, this gentleman here."
"I?" cried Athos, with an accent like that of a man who
perceives he is about to tread upon an adder.
"You, to be sure!" said D''Artagnan, pressing Athos''s hand.
"You know the interest we both take in this poor little
Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty will tell nothing; will
you, Kitty? You understand, my dear girl," continued
D''Artagnan, "she is the wife of that frightful baboon you
saw at the door as you came in."
"Oh, my God! You remind me of my fright! If he should have
known me again!"
"How? know you again? Did you ever see that man before?"
"He came twice to Milady''s."
"That''s it. About what time?"
"Why, about fifteen or eighteen days ago."
"Exactly so."
"And yesterday evening he came again."
"Yesterday evening?"
"Yes, just before you came."
"My dear Athos, we are enveloped in a network of spies. And
do you believe he knew you again, Kitty?"
"I pulled down my hood as soon as I saw him, but perhaps it
was too
late."
"Go down, Athos--he mistrusts you less than me--and see if he
be still at his door."
Athos went down and returned immediately.
"He has gone," said he, "and the house door is shut."
"He has gone to make his report, and to say that all the
pigeons are at this moment in the dovecot"
"Well, then, let us all fly," said Athos, "and leave nobody
here but Planchet to bring us news."
"A minute. Aramis, whom we have sent for!"
"That''s true," said Athos; "we must wait for Aramis."
At that moment Aramis entered.
The matter was all explained to him, and the friends gave
him to understand that among all his high connections he
must find a place for Kitty.
Aramis reflected for a minute, and then said, coloring,
"Will it be really rendering you a service, D''Artagnan?"
"I shall be grateful to you all my life."
"Very well. Madame de Bois-Tracy asked me, for one of her
friends who resides in the provinces, I believe, for a
trustworthy maid. If you can, my dear D''Artagnan, answer
for Mademoiselle-"
"Oh, monsieur, be assured that I shall be entirely devoted
to the person who will give me the means of quitting Paris."
"Then," said Aramis, "this falls out very well."
He placed himself at the table and wrote a little note which
he sealed with a ring, and gave the billet to Kitty.
"And now, my dear girl," said D''Artagnan, "you know that it
is not good for any of us to be here. Therefore let us
separate. We shall meet again in better days."
"And whenever we find each other, in whatever place it may
be," said Kitty, "you will find me loving you as I love you
today."
"Dicers'' oaths!" said Athos, while D''Artagnan went to
conduct Kitty downstairs.
An instant afterward the three young men separated, agreeing
to meet again at four o''clock with Athos, and leaving
Planchet to guard the house.
Aramis returned home, and Athos and D''Artagnan busied
themselves about pledging the sapphire.
As the Gascon had foreseen, they easily obtained three
hundred pistoles on the ring. Still further, the Jew told
them that if they would sell it to him, as it would make a
magnificent pendant for earrings, he would give five hundred
pistoles for it.
Athos and D''Artagnan, with the activity of two soldiers and
the knowledge of two connoisseurs, hardly required three
hours to purchase the entire equipment of the Musketeer.
Besides, Athos was very easy, and a noble to his fingers''
ends. When a thing suited him he paid the price demanded,
without thinking to ask for any abatement. D''Artagnan would
have remonstrated at this; but Athos put his hand upon his
shoulder, with a smile, and D''Artagnan understood that it
was all very well for such a little Gascon gentleman as
himself to drive a bargain, but not for a man who had the
bearing of a prince. The Musketeer met with a superb
Andalusian horse, black as jet, nostrils of fire, legs clean
and elegant, rising six years. He examined him, and found
him sound and without blemish. They asked a thousand livres
for him.
He might perhaps have been bought for less; but while
D''Artagnan was discussing the price with the dealer, Athos
was counting out the money on the table.
Grimaud had a stout, short Picard cob, which cost three
hundred livres.
But when the saddle and arms for Grimaud were purchased,
Athos had not a son left of his hundred and fifty pistoles.
D''Artagnan offered his friend a part of his share which he
should return when convenient.
But Athos only replied to this proposal by shrugging his
shoulders.
"How much did the Jew say he would give for the sapphire if
be purchased it?" said Athos.
"Five hundred pistoles."
"That is to say, two hundred more--a hundred pistoles for you
and a hundred pistoles for me. Well, now, that would be a
real fortune to us, my friend; let us go back to the Jew''s
again."
"What! "will you--"
"This ring would certainly only recall very bitter
remembrances; then we shall never be masters of three
hundred pistoles to redeem it, so that we really should lose
two hundred pistoles by the bargain. Go and tell him the
ring is his, D''Artagnan, and bring back the two hundred
pistoles with you."
"Reflect, Athos!"
"Ready money is needful for the present time, and we must
learn how to make sacrifices. Go, D''Artagnan, go; Grimaud
will accompany you with his musketoon."
A half hour afterward, D''Artagnan returned with the two
thousand livres, and without having met with any accident.
It was thus Athos found at home resources which he did not
expect.

39 A VISION
At four o''clock the four friends were all assembled with
Athos. Their anxiety about their outfits had all
disappeared, and each countenance only preserved the
expression of its own secret disquiet--for behind all present
happiness is concealed a fear for the future.
Suddenly Planchet entered, bringing two letters for
D''Artagnan.
The one was a little billet, genteelly folded, with a pretty
seal in green wax on which was impressed a dove bearing a
green branch.
The other was a large square epistle, resplendent with the
terrible arms of his Eminence the cardinal duke.
At the sight of the little letter the heart of D''Artagnan
bounded, for he believed he recognized the handwriting, and
although he had seen that writing but once, the memory of it
remained at the bottom of his heart.
He therefore seized the little epistle, and opened it
eagerly.
"Be," said the letter, "on Thursday next, at from six to
seven o''clock in the evening, on the road to Chaillot, and
look carefully into the carriages that pass; but if you have
any consideration for your own life or that of those who
love you, do not speak a single word, do not make a movement
which may lead anyone to believe you have recognized her who
exposes herself to everything for the sake of seeing you but
for an instant."
No signature.
"That''s a snare," said Athos; "don''t go, D''Artagnan."
"And yet," replied D''Artagnan, "I think I recognize the
writing."
"It may be counterfeit," said Athos. "Between six and seven
o''clock the road of Chaillot is quite deserted; you might as
well go and ride in the forest of Bondy."
"But suppose we all go," said D''Artagnan; "what the devil!
They won''t devour us all four, four lackeys, horses, arms,
and all!"
"And besides, it will be a chance for displaying our new
equipments," said Porthos.
"But if it is a woman who writes," said Aramis, "and that
woman desires not to be seen, remember, you compromise her,
D''Artagnan; which is not the part of a gentleman."
"We will remain in the background," said Porthos, "and he
will advance alone."
"Yes; but a pistol shot is easily fired from a carriage
which goes at a gallop."
"Bah!" said D''Artagnan, "they will miss me; if they fire we
will ride after the carriage, and exterminate those who may
be in it. They must be enemies."
"He is right," said Porthos; "battle. Besides, we must try
our now arms."
"Bah, let us enjoy that pleasure," said Aramis, with his
mild and careless manner.
"As you please," said Athos.
"Gentlemen," said D''Artagnan, "it is half past four, and we
have scarcely time to be on the road of Chaillot by six."
"Besides, if we go out too late, nobody will see us," said
Porthos, "and that will be a pity. Let us get ready,
gentlemen."
"But this second letter," said Athos, "you forget that; it
appears to me, however, that the seal denotes that it
deserves to be opened. For my part, I declare, D''Artagnan,
I think it of much more consequence than the little piece of
waste paper you have so cunningly slipped into your bosom."
D''Artagnan blushed.
"Well," said he, "let us see, gentlemen, what are his
Eminence''s commands," and D''Artagnan unsealed the letter and
read,
"M. D''Artagnan, of the king''s Guards, company Dessessart, is
expected at the Palais-Cardinal this evening, at eight
o''clock.
"La Houdiniere, CAPTAIN OF THE GUARDS"
"The devil!" said Athos; "here''s a rendezvous much more
serious than the other."
"I will go to the second after attending the first," said
D''Artagnan. "One is for seven o''clock, and the other for
eight; there will be time for both."
"Hum! I would not go at all," said Aramis. "A gallant
knight cannot decline a rendezvous with a lady; but a
prudent gentleman may excuse himself from not waiting on his
Eminence, particularly when he has reason to believe he is
not invited to make his compliments."
"I am of Aramis''s opinion," said Porthos.
"Gentlemen," replied D''Artagnan, "I have already received by
Monsieur de Cavois a similar invitation from his Eminence.
I neglected it, and on the morrow a serious misfortune
happened to me--Constance disappeared. Whatever may ensue, I
will go."
"If you are determined," said Athos, "do so."
"But the Bastille?" said Aramis.
"Bah! you will get me out if they put me there," said
D''Artagnan.
"To be sure we will," replied Aramis and Porthos, with
admirable promptness and decision, as if that were the
simplest thing in the world, "to be sure we will get you
out; but meantime, as we are to set off the day after
tomorrow, you would do much better not to risk this
Bastille."
"Let us do better than that," said Athos; "do not let us
leave him during the whole evening. Let each of us wait at
a gate of the palace with three Musketeers behind him; if we
see a close carriage, at all suspicious in appearance, come
out, let us fall upon it. It is a long time since we have
had a skirmish with the Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal;
Monsieur de Treville must think us dead."
"To a certainty, Athos," said Aramis, "you were meant to be
a general of the army! What do you think of the plan,
gentlemen?"
"Admirable!" replied the young men in chorus.
"Well," said Porthos, "I will run to the hotel, and engage
our comrades to hold themselves in readiness by eight
o''clock; the rendezvous, the Place du Palais-Cardinal.
Meantime, you see that the lackeys saddle the horses."
"I have no horse," said D''Artagnan; "but that is of no
consequence, I can take one of Monsieur de Treville''s."
"That is not worth while," said Aramis, "you can have one of
mine."
"One of yours! how many have you, then?" asked D''Artagnan.
"Three," replied Aramis, smiling.
"Certes," cried Athos, "you are the best-mounted poet of
France or Navarre."
"Well, my dear Aramis, you don''t want three horses? I
cannot comprehend what induced you to buy three!"
"Therefore I only purchased two," said Aramis.
"The third, then, fell from the clouds, I suppose?"
"No, the third was brought to me this very morning by a
groom out of livery, who would not tell me in whose service
he was, and who said he had received orders from his
master."
"Or his mistress," interrupted D''Artagnan.
"That makes no difference," said Aramis, coloring; "and who
affirmed, as I said, that he had received orders from his
master or mistress to place the horse in my stable, without
informing me whence it came."
"It is only to poets that such things happen," said Athos,
gravely.
"Well, in that case, we can manage famously," said
D''Artagnan; "which of the two horses will you ride--that
which you bought or the one that was given to you?"
"That which was given to me, assuredly. You cannot for a
moment imagine, D''Artagnan, that I would commit such an
offense toward--"
"The unknown giver," interrupted D''Artagnan.
"Or the mysterious benefactress," said Athos.
"The one you bought will then become useless to you?"
"Nearly so."
"And you selected it yourself?"
"With the greatest care. The safety of the horseman, you
know, depends almost always upon the goodness of his horse."
"Well, transfer it to me at the price it cost you?"
"I was going to make you the offer, my dear D''Artagnan,
giving you all the time necessary for repaying me such a
trifle."
"How much did it cost you?"
"Eight hundred livres."
"Here are forty double pistoles, my dear friend," said
D''Artagnan, taking the sum from his pocket; "I know that is
the coin in which you were paid for your poems."
"You are rich, then?" said Aramis.
"Rich? Richest, my dear fellow!"
And D''Artagnan chinked the remainder of his pistoles in his
pocket.
"Send your saddle, then, to the hotel of the Musketeers, and
your horse can be brought back with ours."
"Very well; but it is already five o''clock, so make haste."
A quarter of an hour afterward Porthos appeared at the end
of the Rue Ferou on a very handsome genet. Mousqueton
followed him upon an Auvergne horse, small but very
handsome. Porthos was resplendent with joy and pride.
At the same time, Aramis made his appearance at the other
end of the street upon a superb English charger. Bazin
followed him upon a roan, holding by the halter a vigorous
Mecklenburg horse; this was D''Artagnan mount.
The two Musketeers met at the gate. Athos and D''Artagnan
watched their approach from the window.
"The devil!" cried Aramis, "you have a magnificent horse
there, Porthos."
"Yes," replied Porthos, "it is the one that ought to have
been sent to me at first. A bad joke of the husband''s
substituted the other; but the husband has been punished
since, and I have obtained full satisfaction."
Planchet and Grimaud appeared in their turn, leading their
masters'' steeds. D''Artagnan and Athos put themselves into
saddle with their companions, and all four set forward;
Athos upon a horse he owed to a woman, Aramis on a horse he
owed to his mistress, Porthos on a horse he owed to his
procurator''s wife, and D''Artagnan on a horse he owed to his
good fortune--the best mistress possible.
The lackeys followed.
As Porthos had foreseen, the cavalcade produced a good
effect; and if Mme. Coquenard had met Porthos and seen what
a superb appearance he made upon his handsome Spanish genet,
she would not have regretted the bleeding she had inflicted
upon the strongbox of her husband.
Near the Louvre the four friends met with M. de Treville,
who was returning from St. Germain; he stopped them to offer
his compliments upon their appointments, which in an instant
drew round them a hundred gapers.
D''Artagnan profited by the circumstance to speak to M. de
Treville of the letter with the great red seal and the
cardinal''s arms. It is well understood that he did not
breathe a word about the other.
M. de Treville approved of the resolution he had adopted,
and assured him that if on the morrow he did not appear, he
himself would undertake to find him, let him be where he
might.
At this moment the clock of La Samaritaine struck six; the
four friends pleaded an engagement, and took leave of M. de
Treville.
A short gallop brought them to the road of Chaillot; the day
began to decline, carriages were passing and repassing.
D''Artagnan, keeping at some distance from his friends,
darted a scrutinizing glance into every carriage that
appeared, but saw no face with which he was acquainted.
At length, after waiting a quarter of an hour and just as
twilight was beginning to thicken, a carriage appeared,
coming at a quick pace on the road of Sevres. A
presentiment instantly told D''Artagnan that this carriage
contained the person who had appointed the rendezvous; the
young man was himself astonished to find his heart beat so
violently. Almost instantly a female head was put out at
the window, with two fingers placed upon her mouth, either
to enjoin silence or to send him a kiss. D''Artagnan uttered
a slight cry of joy; this woman, or rather this apparition--
for the carriage passed with the rapi***y of a vision--was
Mme. Bonacieux.
By an involuntary movement and in spite of the injunction
given, D''Artagnan put his horse into a gallop, and in a few
strides overtook the carriage; but the window was
hermetically closed, the vision had disappeared.
D''Artagnan then remembered the injunction: "If you value
your own life or that of those who love you, remain
motionless, and as if you had seen nothing."
He stopped, therefore, trembling not for himself but for the
poor woman who had evidently exposed herself to great danger
by appointing this rendezvous.
The carriage pursued its way, still going at a great pace,
till it dashed into Paris, and disappeared.
D''Artagnan remained fixed to the spot, astounded and not
knowing what to think. If it was Mme. Bonacieux and if she
was returning to Paris, why this fugitive rendezvous, why
this simple exchange of a glance, why this lost kiss? If,
on the other side, it was not she--which was still quite
possible--for the little light that remained rendered a
mistake easy--might it not be the commencement of some plot
against him through the allurement of this woman, for whom
his love was known?
His three companions joined him. All had plainly seen a
woman''s head appear at the window, but none of them, except
Athos, knew Mme. Bonacieux. The opinion of Athos was that
it was indeed she; but less preoccupied by that pretty face
than D''Artagnan, he had fancied he saw a second head, a
man''s head, inside the carriage.
"If that be the case," said D''Artagnan, "they are doubtless
transporting her from one prison to another. But what can
they intend to do with the poor creature, and how shall I
ever meet her again?"
"Friend," said Athos, gravely, "remember that it is the dead
alone with whom we are not likely to meet again on this
earth. You know something of that, as well as I do, I
think. Now, if your mistress is not dead, if it is she we
have just seen, you will meet with her again some day or
other. And perhaps, my God!" added he, with that
misanthropic tone which was peculiar to him, "perhaps sooner
than you wish."
Half past seven had sounded. The carriage had been twenty
minutes behind the time appointed. D''Artagnan''s friends
reminded him that he had a visit to pay, but at the same
time bade him observe that there was yet time to retract.
But D''Artagnan was at the same time impetuous and curious.
He had made up his mind that he would go to the Palais-
Cardinal, and that he would learn what his Eminence had to
say to him. Nothing could turn him from his purpose.
They reached the Rue St. Honore, and in the Place du Palais-
Cardinal they found the twelve invited Musketeers, walking
about in expectation of their comrades. There only they
explained to them the matter in hand.
D''Artagnan was well known among the honorable corps of the
king''s Musketeers, in which it was known he would one day
take his place; he was considered beforehand as a comrade.
It resulted from these antecedents that everyone entered
heartily into the purpose for which they met; besides, it
would not be unlikely that they would have an opportunity of
playing either the cardinal or his people an ill turn, and
for such expe***ions these worthy gentlemen were always
ready.
Athos divided them into three groups, assumed the command of
one, gave the second to Aramis, and the third to Porthos;
and then each group went and took their watch near an
entrance.
D''Artagnan, on his part, entered boldly at the principal
gate.
Although he felt himself ably supported, the young man was
not without a little uneasiness as he ascended the great
staircase, step by step. His conduct toward Milady bore a
strong resemblance to treachery, and he was very suspicious
of the political relations which existed between that woman
and the cardinal. Still further, De Wardes, whom he had
treated so ill, was one of the tools of his Eminence; and
D''Artagnan knew that while his Eminence was terrible to his
enemies, he was strongly attached to his friends.
"If De Wardes has related all our affair to the cardinal,
which is not to be doubted, and if he has recognized me, as
is probable, I may consider myself almost as a condemned
man," said D''Artagnan, shaking his head. "But why has he
waited till now? That''s all plain enough. Milady has laid
her complaints against me with that hypocritical grief which
renders her so interesting, and this last offense has made
the cup overflow."
"Fortunately," added he, "my good friends are down yonder,
and they will not allow me to be carried away without a
struggle. Nevertheless, Monsieur de Treville''s company of
Musketeers alone cannot maintain a war against the cardinal,
who disposes of the forces of all France, and before whom
the queen is without power and the king without will.
D''Artagnan, my friend, you are brave, you are prudent, you
have excellent qualities; but the women will ruin you!"
He came to this melancholy conclusion as he entered the
antechamber. He placed his letter in the hands of the usher
on duty, who led him into the waiting room and passed on
into the interior of the palace.
In this waiting room were five or six of the cardinals
Guards, who recognized D''Artagnan, and knowing that it was
he who had wounded Jussac, they looked upon him with a smile
of singular meaning.
This smile appeared to D''Artagnan to be of bad augury.
Only, as our Gascon was not easily intimidated--or rather,
thanks to a great pride natural to the men of his country,
he did not allow one easily to see what was passing in his
mind when that which was passing at all resembled fear--he
placed himself haughtily in front of Messieurs the Guards,
and waited with his hand on his hip, in an attitude by no
means deficient in majesty.
The usher returned and made a sign to D''Artagnan to follow
him. It appeared to the young man that the Guards, on
seeing him depart, chuckled among themselves.
He traversed a corridor, crossed a grand saloon, entered a
library, and found himself in the presence of a man seated
at a desk and writing.
The usher introduced him, and retired without speaking a
word. D''Artagnan remained standing and examined this man.
D''Artagnan at first believed that he had to do with some
judge examining his papers; but he perceived that the man at
the desk wrote, or rather corrected, lines of unequal
length, scanning the words on his fingers. He saw then that
he was with a poet. At the end of an instant the poet
closed his manuscript, upon the cover of which was written
"Mirame, a Tragedy in Five Acts," and raised his head.
D''Artagnan recognized the cardinal.

40 A Terrible Vision
The cardinal leaned his elbow on his manuscript, his cheek
upon his hand, and looked intently at the young man for a
moment. No one had a more searching eye than the Cardinal
de Richelieu, and D''Artagnan felt this glance run through
his veins like a fever.
He however kept a good countenance, holding his hat in his
hand and awaiting the good pleasure of his Eminence, without
too much assurance, but also without too much humility.
"Monsieur," said the cardinal, "are you a D''Artagnan from
Bearn?"
"Yes, monseigneur," replied the young man.
"There are several branches of the D''Artagnans at Tarbes and
in its environs," said the cardinal; "to which do you
belong?"
"I am the son of him who served in the Religious Wars under
the great King Henry, the father of his gracious Majesty."
"That is well. It is you who set out seven or eight months
ago from your country to seek your fortune in the capital?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"You came through Meung, where something befell you. I
don''t very well know what, but still something."
"Monseigneur," said D''Artagnan, "this was what happened to
me--"
"Never mind, never mind!" resumed the cardinal, with a smile
which indicated that he knew the story as well as he who
wished to relate it. "You were recommended to Monsieur de
Treville, were you not?"
"Yes, monseigneur; but in that unfortunate affair at
Meung--"
"The letter was lost," replied his Eminence; "yes, I know
that. But Monsieur de Treville is a skilled physiognomist,
who knows men at first sight; and he placed you in the
company of his brother-in-law, Monsieur Dessessart, leaving
you to hope that one day or other you should enter the
Musketeers."
"Monseigneur is correctly informed," said D''Artagnan.
"Since that time many things have happened to you. You were
walking one day behind the Chartreux, when it would have
been better if you had been elsewhere. Then you took with
your friends a journey to the waters of Forges; they stopped
on the road, but you continued yours. That is all very
simple: you had business in England."
"Monseigneur," said D''Artagnan, quite confused, "I went--"
"Hunting at Windsor, or elsewhere--that concerns nobody. I
know, because it is my office to know everything. On your
return you were received by an august personage, and I
perceive with pleasure that you preserve the souvenir she
gave you."
D''Artagnan placed his hand upon the queen''s diamond, which
he wore, and quickly turned the stone inward; but it was too
late.
"The day after that, you received a visit from Cavois,"
resumed the cardinal. "He went to desire you to come to the
palace. You have not returned that visit, and you were
wrong."
"Monseigneur, I feared I had incurred disgrace with your
Eminence."
"How could that be, monsieur? Could you incur my
displeasure by having followed the orders of your superiors
with more intelligence and courage than another would have
done? It is the people who do not obey that I punish, and
not those who, like you, obey--but too well. As a proof,
remember the date of the day on which I had you bidden to
come to me, and seek in your memory for what happened to you
that very night."
That was the very evening when the abduction of Mme.
Bonacieux took place. D''Artagnan trembled; and he likewise
recollected that during the past half hour the poor woman
had passed close to him, without doubt carried away by the
same power that had caused her disappearance.
"In short," continued the cardinal, "as I have heard nothing
of you for some time past, I wished to know what you were
doing. Besides, you owe me some thanks. You must yourself
have remarked how much you have been considered in all the
circumstances."
D''Artagnan bowed with respect.
"That," continued the cardinal, "arose not only from a
feeling of natural equity, but likewise from a plan I have
marked out with respect to you."
D''Artagnan became more and more astonished.
"I wished to explain this plan to you on the day you
received my first invitation; but you did not come.
Fortunately, nothing is lost by this delay, and you are now
about to hear it. Sit down there, before me, d''Artagnan;
you are gentleman enough not to listen standing." And the
cardinal pointed with his finger to a chair for the young
man, who was so astonished at what was passing that he
awaited a second sign from his interlocutor before he
obeyed.
"You are brave, Monsieur d''Artagnan," continued his
Eminence; "you are prudent, which is still better. I like
men of head and heart. Don''t be afraid," said he, smiling.
"By men of heart I mean men of courage. But young as you
are, and scarcely entering into the world, you have powerful
enemies; if you do not take great heed, they will destroy
you."
"Alas, monseigneur!" replied the young man, "very easily, no
doubt, for they are strong and well supported, while I am
alone."
"Yes, that''s true; but alone as you are, you have done much
already, and will do still more, I don''t doubt. Yet you
have need, I believe, to be guided in the adventurous career
you have undertaken; for, if I mistake not, you came to
Paris with the ambitious idea of making your fortune."
"I am at the age of extravagant hopes, monseigneur," said
D''Artagnan.
"There are no extravagant but for fools, monsieur, and you
are a man of understanding. Now, what would you say to an
ensign''s commission in my Guards, and a company after the
campaign?"
"Ah, monseigneur."
"You accept it, do you not?"
"Monseigneur," replied D''Artagnan, with an embarrassed air.
"How? You refuse?" cried the cardinal, with astonishment.
"I am in his Majesty''s Guards, monseigneur, and I have no
reason to be dissatisfied."
"But it appears to me that my Guards--mine--are also his
Majesty''s Guards; and whoever serves in a French corps
serves the king."
"Monseigneur, your Eminence has ill understood my words."
"You want a pretext, do you not? I comprehend. Well, you
have this excuse: advancement, the opening campaign, the
opportunity which I offer you--so much for the world. As
regards yourself, the need of protection; for it is fit you
should know, Monsieur d''Artagnan, that I have received heavy
and serious complaints against you. You do not consecrate
your days and nights wholly to the king''s service."
D''Artagnan colored.
"In fact," said the cardinal, placing his hand upon a bundle
of papers, "I have here a whole pile which concerns you. I
know you to be a man of resolution; and your services, well
directed, instead of leading you to ill, might be very
advantageous to you. Come; reflect, and decide."
"Your goodness confounds me, monseigneur," replied
D''Artagnan, "and I am conscious of a greatness of soul in
your Eminence that makes me mean as an earthworm; but since
Monseigneur permits me to speak freely--"
D''Artagnan paused.
"Yes; speak."
"Then, I will presume to say that all my friends are in the
king''s Musketeers and Guards, and that by an inconceivable
fatality my enemies are in the service of your Eminence; I
should, therefore, be ill received here and ill regarded
there if I accepted what Monseigneur offers me."
"Do you happen to entertain the haughty idea that I have not
yet made you an offer equal to your value?" asked the
cardinal, with a smile of disdain.
"Monseigneur, your Eminence is a hundred times too kind to
me; and on the contrary, I think I have not proved myself
worthy of your goodness. The siege of La Rochelle is about
to be resumed, monseigneur. I shall serve under the eye of
your Eminence, and if I have the good fortune to conduct
myself at the siege in such a manner as merits your
attention, then I shall at least leave behind me some
brilliant action to justify the protection with which you
honor me. Everything is best in its time, monseigneur.
Hereafter, perhaps, I shall have the right of giving myself;
at present I shall appear to sell myself."
"That is to say, you refuse to serve me, monsieur," said the
cardinal, with a tone of vexation, through which, however,
might be seen a sort of esteem; "remain free, then, and
guard your hatreds and your sympathies."
"Monseigneur--"
"Well, well," said the cardinal, "I don''t wish you any ill;
but you must be aware that it is quite trouble enough to
defend and recompense our friends. We owe nothing to our
enemies; and let me give you a piece of advice; take care of
yourself, Monsieur d''Artagnan, for from the moment I
withdraw my hand from behind you, I would not give an obolus
for your life."
"I will try to do so, monseigneur," replied the Gascon, with
a noble confidence.
"Remember at a later period and at a certain moment, if any
mischance should happen to you," said Richelieu,
significantly, "that it was I who came to seek you, and that
I did all in my power to prevent this misfortune befalling
you."
"I shall entertain, whatever may happen," said D''Artagnan,
placing his hand upon his breast and bowing, "an eternal
gratitude toward your Eminence for that which you now do for
me."
"Well, let it be, then, as you have said, Monsieur
d''Artagnan; we shall see each other again after the
campaign. I will have my eye upon you, for I shall be
there," replied the cardinal, pointing with his finger to a
magnificent suit of armor he was to wear, "and on our
return, well--we will settle our account!"
"Young man," said Richelieu, "if I shall be able to say to
you at another time what I have said to you today, I promise
you to do so."
This last expression of Richelieu''s conveyed a terrible
doubt; it alarmed D''Artagnan more than a menace would have
done, for it was a warning. The cardinal, then, was seeking
to preserve him from some misfortune which threatened him.
He opened his mouth to reply, but with a haughty gesture the
cardinal dismissed him.
D''Artagnan went out, but at the door his heart almost failed
him, and he felt inclined to return. Then the noble and
severe countenance of Athos crossed his mind; if he made the
compact with the cardinal which he required, Athos would no
more give him his hand--Athos would renounce him.
It was this fear that restrained him, so powerful is the
influence of a truly great character on all that surrounds
it.
D''Artagnan descended by the staircase at which he had
entered, and found Athos and the four Musketeers waiting his
appearance, and beginning to grow uneasy. With a word,
D''Artagnan reassured them; and Planchet ran to inform the
other sentinels that it was useless to keep guard longer, as
his master had come out safe from the Palais-Cardinal.
Returned home with Athos, Aramis and Porthos inquired
eagerly the cause of the strange interview; but D''Artagnan
confined himself to telling them that M. de Richelieu had
sent for him to propose to him to enter into his guards with
the rank of ensign, and that he had refused.
"And you were right," cried Aramis and Porthos, with one
voice.
Athos fell into a profound reverie and answered nothing.
But when they were alone he said, "You have done that which
you ought to have done, D''Artagnan; but perhaps you have
been wrong."
D''Artagnan sighed deeply, for this voice responded to a
secret voice of his soul, which told him that great
misfortunes awaited him.
The whole of the next day was spent in preparations for
departure. D''Artagnan went to take leave of M. de Treville.
At that time it was believed that the separation of the
Musketeers and the Guards would be but momentary, the king
holding his Parliament that very day and proposing to set
out the day after. M. de Treville contented himself with
asking D''Artagnan if he could do anything for him, but
D''Artagnan answered that he was supplied with all he wanted.
That night brought together all those comrades of the Guards
of M. Dessessart and the company of Musketeers of M. de
Treville who had been accustomed to associate together.
They were parting to meet again when it pleased God, and if
it pleased God. That night, then, was somewhat riotous, as
may be imagined. In such cases extreme preoccupation is
only to be combated by extreme carelessness.
At the first sound of the morning trumpet the friends
separated; the Musketeers hastening to the hotel of M. de
Treville, the Guards to that of M. Dessessart. Each of the
captains then led his company to the Louvre, where the king
held his review
The king was dull and appeared ill, which detracted a little
from his usual lofty bearing. In fact, the evening before,
a fever had seized him in the midst of the Parliament, while
he was holding his Bed of Justice. He had, not the less,
decided upon setting out that same evening; and in spite of
the remonstrances that had been offered to him, he persisted
in having the review, hoping by setting it at defiance to
conquer the disease which began to lay hold upon him.
The review over, the Guards set forward alone on their
march, the Musketeers waiting for the king, which allowed
Porthos time to go and take a turn in his superb equipment
in the Rue aux Ours.
The procurator''s wife saw him pass in his new uniform and on
his fine horse. She loved Porthos too dearly to allow him
to part thus; she made him a sign to dismount and come to
her. Porthos was magnificent; his spurs jingled, his
cuirass glittered, his sword knocked proudly against his
ample limbs. This time the clerks evinced no inclination to
laugh, such a real ear clipper did Porthos appear.
The Musketeer was introduced to M. Coquenard, whose little
gray eyes sparkled with anger at seeing his cousin all
blazing new. Nevertheless, one thing afforded him inward
consolation; it was expected by everybody that the campaign
would be a severe one. He whispered a hope to himself that
this beloved relative might be killed in the field.
Porthos paid his compliments to M. Coquenard and bade him
farewell. M. Coquenard wished him all sorts of
prosperities. As to Mme. Coquenard, she could not restrain
her tears; but no evil impressions were taken from her grief
as she was known to be very much attached to her relatives,
about whom she was constantly having serious disputes with
her husband.
But the real adieux were made in Mme. Coquenard''s chamber;
they were heartrending.
As long as the procurator''s wife could follow him with her
eyes, she waved her handkerchief to him, leaning so far out
of the window as to lead people to believe she wished to
precipitate herself. Porthos received all these attentions
like a man accustomed *****ch demonstrations, only on
turning the corner of the street he lifted his hat
gracefully, and waved it to her as a sign of adieu.
On his part Aramis wrote a long letter. To whom? Nobody
knew. Kitty, who was to set out that evening for Tours, was
waiting in the next chamber.
Athos sipped the last bottle of his Spanish wine.
In the meantime D''Artagnan was defiling with his company.
Arriving at the Faubourg St. Antoine, he turned round to
look gaily at the Bastille; but as it was the Bastille alone
he looked at, he did not observe Milady, who, mounted upon a
light chestnut horse, designated him with her finger to two
ill-looking men who came close up to the ranks to take
notice of him. To a look of interrogation which they made,
Milady replied by a sign that it was he. Then, certain that
there could be no mistake in the execution of her orders,
she started her horse and disappeared.
The two men followed the company, and on leaving the
aubourg St. Antoine, mounted two horses properly equipped,
which a servant without livery had waiting for them.