The Three Musketeers - Dumas

41 THE SEIGE OF LA ROCHELLE
The Siege of La Rochelle was one of the great political
events of the reign of Louis XIII, and one of the great
military enterprises of the cardinal. It is, then,
interesting and even necessary that we should say a few
words about it, particularly as many details of this siege
are connected in too important a manner with the story we
have undertaken to relate to allow us to pass it over in
silence.
The political plans of the cardinal when he undertook this
siege were extensive. Let us unfold them first, and then
pass on to the private plans which perhaps had not less
influence upon his Eminence than the others.
Of the important cities given up by Henry IV to the
Huguenots as places of safety, there only remained La
Rochelle. It became necessary, therefore, to destroy this
last bulwark of Calvinism--a dangerous leaven with which the
ferments of civil revolt and foreign war were constantly
mingling.
Spaniards, Englishmen, and Italian malcontents, adventurers
of all nations, and soldiers of fortune of every sect,
flocked at the first summons under the standard of the
Protestants, and organized themselves like a vast
association, whose branches diverged freely over all parts
of Europe.
La Rochelle, which had derived a new importance from the
ruin of the other Calvinist cities, was, then, the focus of
dissensions and ambition. Moreover, its port was the last
in the kingdom of France open to the English, and by closing
it against England, our eternal enemy, the cardinal
completed the work of Joan of Arc and the Duc de Guise.
Thus Bassompierre, who was at once Protestant and Catholic--
Protestant by conviction and Catholic as commander of the
order of the Holy Ghost; Bassompierre, who was a German by
birth and a Frenchman at heart--in short, Bassompierre, who
had a distinguished command at the siege of La Rochelle,
said, in charging at the head of several other Protestant
nobles like himself, "You will see, gentlemen, that we shall
be fools enough to take La Rochelle."
And Bassompierre was right. The cannonade of the Isle of Re
presaged to him the dragonnades of the Cevennes; the taking
of La Rochelle was the preface to the revocation of the
Edict of Nantes.
We have hinted that by the side of these views of the
leveling and simplifying minister, which belong to history,
the chronicler is forced to recognize the lesser motives of
the amorous man and jealous rival.
Richelieu, as everyone knows, had loved the queen. Was this
love a simple political affair, or was it naturally one of
those profound passions which Anne of Austria inspired in
those who approached her? That we are not able to say; but
at all events, we have seen, by the anterior developments of
this story, that Buckingham had the advantage over him, and
in two or three circumstances, particularly that of the
diamond studs, had, thanks to the devotedness of the three
Musketeers and the courage and conduct of D''Artagnan,
cruelly mystified him.
It was, then, Richelieu''s object, not only to get rid of an
enemy of France, but to avenge himself on a rival; but this
vengeance must be grand and striking and worthy in every way
of a man who held in his hand, as his weapon for combat, the
forces of a kingdom.
Richelieu knew that in combating England he combated
Buckingham; that in triumphing over England he triumphed
over Buckingham--in short, that in humiliating England in
the eyes of Europe he humiliated Buckingham in the eyes of
the queen.
On his side Buckingham, in pretending to maintain the honor
of England, was moved by interests exactly like those of the
cardinal. Buckingham also was pursuing a private vengeance.
Buckingham could not under any pretense be admitted into
France as an ambassador; he wished to enter it as a
conqueror.
It resulted from this that the real stake in this game,
which two most powerful kingdoms played for the good
pleasure of two amorous men, was simply a kind look from
Anne of Austria.
The first advantage had been gained by Buckingham. Arriving
unexpectedly in sight of the Isle of Re with ninety vessels
and nearly twenty thousand men, he had surprised the Comte
de Toiras, who commanded for the king in the Isle, and he
had, after a bloody conflict, effected his landing.
Allow us to observe in passing that in this fight perished
the Baron de Chantal; that the Baron de Chantal left a
little orphan girl eighteen months old, and that this little
girl was afterward Mme. de Sevigne.
The Comte de Toiras retired into the citadel St. Martin with
his garrison, and threw a hundred men into a little fort
called the fort of La Pree.
This event had hastened the resolutions of the cardinal; and
till the king and he could take the command of the siege of
La Rochelle, which was determined, he had sent Monsieur to
direct the first operations, and had ordered all the troops
he could dispose of to march toward the theater of war. It
was of this detachment, sent as a vanguard, that our friend
D''Artagnan formed a part.
The king, as we have said, was to follow as soon as his Bed
of Justice had been held; but on rising from his Bed of
Justice on the twenty-eighth of June, he felt himself
attacked by fever. He was, notwithstanding, anxious to set
out; but his illness becoming more serious, he was forced to
stop at Villeroy.
Now, whenever the king halted, the Musketeers halted. It
followed that D''Artagnan, who was as yet purely and simply
in the Guards, found himself, for the time at least,
separated from his good friends--Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.
This separation, which was no more than an unpleasant
circumstance, would have certainly become a cause of serious
uneasiness if he had been able to guess by what unknown
dangers he was surrounded.
He, however, arrived without accident in the camp
established before La Rochelle, of the tenth of the month of
September of the year 1627.
Everything was in the same state. The Duke of Buckingham
and his English, masters of the Isle of Re, continued to
besiege, but without success, the citadel St. Martin and the
fort of La Pree; and hostilities with La Rochelle had
commenced, two or three days before, about a fort which the
Duc d''Angouleme had caused to be constructed near the city.
The Guards, under the command of M. Dessessart, took up
their quartered at the Minimes; but, as we know, D''Artagnan,
possessed with ambition to enter the Musketeers, had formed
but few friendships among his comrades, and he felt himself
isolated and given up to his own reflections.
His reflections were not very cheerful. From the time of
his arrival in Paris, he had been mixed up with public
affairs; but his own private affairs had made no great
progress, either in love or fortune. As to love, the only
woman he could have loved was Mme. Bonacieux; and Mme.
Bonacieux had disappeared, without his being able to
discover what had become of her. As to fortune, he had
made--he, humble as he was--an enemy of the cardinal; that
is to say, of a man before whom trembled the greatest men of
the kingdom, beginning with the king.
That man had the power to crush him, and yet he had not done
so. For a mind so perspicuous as that of D''Artagnan, this
indulgence was a light by which he caught a glimpse of a
better future.
Then he had made himself another enemy, less to be feared,
he thought; but nevertheless, he instinctively felt, not to
be despised. This enemy was Milady.
In exchange for all this, he had acquired the protection and
good will of the queen; but the favor of the queen was at
the present time an ad***ional cause of persecution, and her
protection, as it was known, protected badly--as witness
Chalais and Mme. Bonacieux.
What he had clearly gained in all this was the diamond,
worth five or six thousand livres, which he wore on his
finger; and even this diamond--supposing that D''Artagnan, in
his projects of ambition, wished to keep it, to make it
someday a pledge for the gratitude of the queen--had not in
the meanwhile, since he could not part with it, more value
than the gravel he trod under his feet.
We say the gravel he trod under his feet, for D''Artagnan
made these reflections while walking solitarily along a
pretty little road which led from the camp to the village of
Angoutin. Now, these reflections had led him further than
he intended, and the day was beginning to decline when, by
the last ray of the setting sun, he thought he saw the
barrel of a musket glitter from behind a hedge.
D''Artagnan had a quick eye and a prompt understanding. He
comprehended that the musket had not come there of itself,
and that he who bore it had not concealed himself behind a
hedge with any friendly intentions. He determined,
therefore, to direct his course as clear from it as he could
when, on the opposite side of the road, from behind a rock,
he perceived the extremity of another musket.
This was evidently an ambuscade.
The young man cast a glance at the first musket and saw,
with a certain degree of inquietude, that it was leveled in
his direction; but as soon as he perceived that the orifice
of the barrel was motionless, he threw himself upon the
ground. At the same instant the gun was fired, and he heard
the whistling of a ball pass over his head.
No time was to be lost. D''Artagnan sprang up with a bound,
and at the same instant the ball from the other musket tore
up the gravel on the very spot on the road where he had
thrown himself with his face to the ground.
D''Artagnan was not one of those foolhardy men who seek a
ridiculous death in order that it may be said of them that
they did not retreat a single step. Besides, courage was
out of the question here; D''Artagnan had fallen into an
ambush.
"If there is a third shot," said he to himself, "I am a lost
man."
He immediately, therefore, took to his heels and ran toward
the camp, with the swiftness of the young men of his
country, so renowned for their agility; but whatever might
be his speed, the first who fired, having had time to
reload, fired a second shot, and this time so well aimed
that it struck his hat, and carried it ten paces from him.
As he, however, had no other hat, he picked up this as he
ran, and arrived at his quarters very pale and quite out of
breath. He sat down without saying a word to anybody, and
began to reflect.
This event might have three causes:
The first and the most natural was that it might be an
ambuscade of the Rochellais, who might not be sorry to kill
one of his Majesty''s Guards, because it would be an enemy
the less, and this enemy might have a well-furnished purse
in his pocket.
D''Artagnan took his hat, examined the hole made by the ball,
and shook his head. The ball was not a musket ball--it was
an arquebus ball. The accuracy of the aim had first given
him the idea that a special weapon had been employed. This
could not, then, be a military ambuscade, as the ball was
not of the regular caliber.
This might be a kind remembrance of Monsieur the Cardinal.
It may be observed that at the very moment when, thanks to
the ray of the sun, he perceived the gun barrel, he was
thinking with astonishment on the forbearance of his
Eminence with respect to him.
But D''Artagnan again shook his head. For people toward whom
he had but to put forth his hand, his Eminence had rarely
recourse *****ch means.
It might be a vengeance of Milady; that was most probable.
He tried in vain to remember the faces or dress of the
assassins; he had escaped so rapidly that he had not had
leisure to notice anything.
"Ah, my poor friends!" murmured D''Artagnan; "where are you?
And that you should fail me!"
D''Artagnan passed a very bad night. Three or four times he
started up, imagining that a man was approaching his bed for
the purpose of stabbing him. Nevertheless, day dawned
without darkness having brought any accident.
But D''Artagnan well suspected that that which was deferred
was not relinquished.
D''Artagnan remained all day in his quarters, assigning as a
reason to himself that the weather was bad.
At nine o''clock the next morning, the drums beat to arms.
The Duc d''Orleans visited the posts. The guards were under
arms, and D''Artagnan took his place in the midst of his
comrades.
Monsieur passed along the front of the line; then all the
superior officers approached him to pay their compliments,
M. Dessessart, captain of the Guards, as well as the others.
At the expiration of a minute or two, it appeared to
D''Artagnan that M. Dessessart made him a sign to approach.
He waited for a fresh gesture on the part of his superior,
for fear he might be mistaken; but this gesture being
repeated, he left the ranks, and advanced to receive orders.
"Monsieur is about to ask for some men of good will for a
dangerous mission, but one which will do honor to those who
shall accomplish it; and I made you a sign in order that you
might hold yourself in readiness."
"Thanks, my captain!" replied D''Artagnan, who wished for
nothing better than an opportunity to distinguish himself
under the eye of the lieutenant general.
In fact the Rochellais had made a sortie during the night,
and had retaken a bastion of which the royal army had gained
possession two days before. The matter was to ascertain, by
reconnoitering, how the enemy guarded this bastion.
At the end of a few minutes Monsieur raised his voice, and
said, "I want for this mission three or four volunteers, led
by a man who can be depended upon."
"As to the man to be depended upon, I have him under my
hand, monsieur," said M. Dessessart, pointing to D''Artagnan;
"and as to the four or five volunteers, Monsieur has but to
make his intentions known, and the men will not be wanting."
"Four men of good will who will risk being killed with me!"
said D''Artagnan, raising his sword.
Two of his comrades of the Guards immediately sprang
forward, and two other soldiers having joined them, the
number was deemed sufficient. D''Artagnan declined all
others, being unwilling to take the first chance from those
who had the priority.
It was not know whether, after the taking of the bastion,
the Rochellais had evacuated it or left a garrison in it;
the object then was to examine the place near enough to
verify the reports.
D''Artagnan set out with his four companions, and followed
the trench; the two Guards marched abreast with him, and the
two soldiers followed behind.
They arrived thus, screened by the lining of the trench,
till they came within a hundred paces of the bastion.
There, on turning round, D''Artagnan perceived that the two
soldiers had disappeared.
He thought that, beginning to be afraid, they had stayed
behind, and he continued to advance.
At the turning of the counterscarp they found themselves
within about sixty paces of the bastion. They saw no one,
and the bastion seemed abandoned.
The three composing our forlorn hope were deliberating
whether they should proceed any further, when all at once a
circle of smoke enveloped the giant of stone, and a dozen
balls came whistling around D''Artagnan and his companions.
They knew all they wished to know; the bastion was guarded.
A longer stay in this dangerous spot would have been useless
imprudence. D''Artagnan and his two companions turned their
backs, and commenced a retreat which resembled a flight.
On arriving at the angle of the trench which was to serve
them as a rampart, one of the Guardsmen fell. A ball had
passed through his breast. The other, who was safe and
sound, continued his way toward the camp.
D''Artagnan was not willing to abandon his companion thus,
and stooped to raise him and assist him in regaining the
lines; but at this moment two shots were fired. One ball
struck the head of the already-wounded guard, and the other
flattened itself against a rock, after having passed within
two inches of D''Artagnan.
The young man turned quickly round, for this attack could
not have come from the bastion, which was hidden by the
angle of the trench. The idea of the two soldiers who had
abandoned him occurred to his mind, and with them he
remembered the assassins of two evenings before. He
resolved this time to know with whom he had to deal, and
fell upon the body of his comrade as if he were dead.
He quickly saw two heads appear above an abandoned work
within thirty paces of him; they were the heads of the two
soldiers. D''Artagnan had not been deceived; these two men
had only followed for the purpose of assassinating him,
hoping that the young man''s death would be placed to the
account of the enemy.
As he might be only wounded and might denounce their crime,
they came up to him with the purpose of making sure.
Fortunately, deceived by D''Artagnan''s trick, they neglected
to reload their guns.
When they were within ten paces of him, D''Artagnan, who in
falling had taken care not to let go his sword, sprang up
close to them.
The assassins comprehended that if they fled toward the camp
without having killed their man, they should be accused by
him; therefore their first idea was to join the enemy. One
of them took his gun by the barrel, and used it as he would
a club. He aimed a terrible blow at D''Artagnan, who avoided
it by springing to one side; but by this movement he left a
passage free to the ban***, who darted off toward the
bastion. As the Rochellais who guarded the bastion were
ignorant of the intentions of the man they saw coming toward
them, they fired upon him, and he fell, struck by a ball
which broke his shoulder.
Meantime D''Artagnan had thrown himself upon the other
soldier, attacking him with his sword. The conflict was not
long; the wretch had nothing to defend himself with but his
discharged arquebus. The sword of the Guardsman slipped
along the barrel of the now-useless weapon, and passed
through the thigh of the assassin, who fell.
D''Artagnan immediately placed the point of his sword at his
throat.
"Oh, do not kill me!" cried the ban***. "Pardon, pardon, my
officer, and I will tell you all."
"Is your secret of enough importance to me to spare your
life for it?" asked the young man, withholding his arm.
"Yes; if you think existence worth anything to a man of
twenty, as you are, and who may hope for everything, being
handsome and brave, as you are."
"Wretch," cried D''Artagnan, "speak quickly! Who employed
you to assassinate me?"
"A woman whom I don''t know, but who is called Milady."
"But if you don''t know this woman, how do you know her
name?"
"My comrade knows her, and called her so. It was with him
she agreed, and not with me; he even has in his pocket a
letter from that person, who attaches great importance to
you, as I have heard him say."
"But how did you become concerned in this villainous
affair?"
"He proposed to me to undertake it with him, and I agreed."
"And how much did she give you for this fine enterprise?"
"A hundred louis."
"Well, come!" said the young man, laughing, "she thinks I am
worth something. A hundred louis? Well, that was a
temptation for two wretches like you. I understand why you
accepted it, and I grant you my pardon; but upon one
con***ion."
"What is that?" said the soldier, uneasy at perceiving that
all was not over.
"That you will go and fetch me the letter your comrade has
in his pocket."
"But," cried the ban***, "that is only another way of
killing me. How can I go and fetch that letter under the
fire of the bastion?"
"You must nevertheless make up your mind to go and get it,
or I swear you shall die by my hand."
"Pardon, monsieur; pity! In the name of that young lady you
love, and whom you perhaps believe dead but who is not!"
cried the ban***, throwing himself upon his knees and
leaning upon his hand--for he began to lose his strength
with his blood.
"And how do you know there is a young woman whom I love, and
that I believed that woman dead?" asked D''Artagnan.
"By that letter which my comrade has in his pocket."
"You see, then," said D''Artagnan, "that I must have that
letter. So no more delay, no more hesitation; or else
whatever may be my repugnance to soiling my sword a second
time with the blood of a wretch like you, I swear by my
faith as an honest man--" and at these words D''Artagnan made
so fierce a gesture that the wounded man sprang up.
"Stop, stop!" cried he, regaining strength by force of
terror. "I will go--I will go!"
D''Artagnan took the soldier''s arquebus, made him go on
before him, and urged him toward his companion by pricking
him behind with his sword.
It was a frightful thing to see this wretch, leaving a long
track of blood on the ground he passed over, pale with
approaching death, trying to drag himself along without
being seen to the body of his accomplice, which lay twenty
paces from him.
Terror was so strongly painted on his face, covered with a
cold sweat, that D''Artagnan took pity on him, and casting
upon him a look of contempt, "Stop," said he, "I will show
you the difference between a man of courage and such a
coward as you. Stay where you are; I will go myself."
And with a light step, an eye on the watch, observing the
movements of the enemy and taking advantage of the accidents
of the ground, D''Artagnan succeeded in reaching the second
soldier.
There were two means of gaining his object--to search him on
the spot, or to carry him away, making a buckler of his
body, and search him in the trench.
D''Artagnan preferred the second means, and lifted the
assassin onto his shoulders at the moment the enemy fired.
A slight shock, the dull noise of three balls which
penetrated the flesh, a last cry, a convulsion of agony,
proved to D''Artagnan that the would-be assassin had saved
his life.
D''Artagnan regained the trench, and threw the corpse beside
the wounded man, who was as pale as death.
Then he began to search. A leather pocketbook, a purse, in
which was evidently a part of the sum which the ban*** had
received, with a dice box and dice, completed the
possessions of the dead man.
He left the box and dice where they fell, threw the purse to
the wounded man, and eagerly opened the pocketbook.
Among some unimportant papers he found the following letter,
that which he had sought at the risk of his life:
"Since you have lost sight of that woman and she is now in
safety in the convent, which you should never have allowed
her to reach, try, at least, not to miss the man. If you
do, you know that my hand stretches far, and that you shall
pay very dearly for the hundred louis you have from me."
No signature. Nevertheless it was plain the letter came
from Milady. He consequently kept it as a piece of
evidence, and being in safety behind the angle of the
trench, he began to interrogate the wounded man. He
confessed that he had undertaken with his comrade--the same
who was killed--to carry off a young woman who was to leave
Paris by the Barriere de La Villette; but having stopped to
drink at a cabaret, they had missed the carriage by ten
minutes.
"But what were you to do with that woman?" asked D''Artagnan,
with anguish.
"We were to have conveyed her to a hotel in the Place
Royale," said the wounded man.
"Yes, yes!" murmured D''Artagnan; "that''s the place--Milady''s
own residence!"
Then the young man tremblingly comprehended what a terrible
thirst for vengeance urged this woman on to destroy him, as
well as all who loved him, and how well she must be
acquainted with the affairs of the court, since she had
discovered all. There could be no doubt she owed this
information to the cardinal.
But amid all this he perceived, with a feeling of real joy,
that the queen must have discovered the prison in which poor
Mme. Bonacieux was explaining her devotion, and that she had
freed her from that prison; and the letter he had received
from the young woman, and her passage along the road of
Chaillot like an apparition, were now explained.
Then also, as Athos had predicted, it became possible to
find Mme. Bonacieux, and a convent was not impregnable.
This idea completely restored clemency to his heart. He
turned toward the wounded man, who had watched with intense
anxiety all the various expressions of his countenance, and
holding out his arm to him, said, "Come, I will not abandon
you thus. Lean upon me, and let us return to the camp."
"Yes," said the man, who could scarcely believe in such
magnanimity, "but is it not to have me hanged?"
"You have my word," said he; "for the second time I give you
your life."
The wounded man sank upon his knees, to again kiss the feet
of his preserver; but D''Artagnan, who had no longer a motive
for staying so near the enemy, abridged the testimonials of
his gratitude.
The Guardsman who had returned at the first discharge
announced the death of his four companions. They were
therefore much astonished and delighted in the regiment when
they saw the young man come back safe and sound.
D''Artagnan explained the sword wound of his companion by a
sortie which he improvised. He described the death of the
other soldier, and the perils they had encountered. This
recital was for him the occasion of veritable triumph. The
whole army talked of this expe***ion for a day, and Monsieur
paid him his compliments upon it. Besides this, as every
great action bears its recompense with it, the brave exploit
of D''Artagnan resulted in the restoration of the tranquility
he had lost. In fact, D''Artagnan believed that he might be
tranquil, as one of his two enemies was killed and the other
devoted to his interests.
This tranquillity proved one thing--that D''Artagnan did not
yet know Milady.

42 THE ANJOU WINE
After the most disheartening news of the king''s health, a
report of his convalescence began to prevail in the camp;
and as he was very anxious to be in person at the siege, it
was said that as soon as he could mount a horse he would set
forward.
Meantime, Monsieur, who knew that from one day to the other
he might expect to be removed from his command by the Duc
d''Angouleme, by Bassompierre, or by Schomberg, who were all
eager for his post, did but little, lost his days in
wavering, and did not dare to attempt any great enterprise
to drive the English from the Isle of Re, where they still
besieged the citadel St. Martin and the fort of La Pree, as
on their side the French were besieging La Rochelle.
D''Artagnan, as we have said, had become more tranquil, as
always happens after a post danger, particularly when the
danger seems to have vanished. He only felt one uneasiness,
and that was at not hearing any tidings from his friends.
But one morning at the commencement of the month of November
everything was explained to him by this letter, dated from
Villeroy:
M. d''Artagnan, MM. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, after having
had an entertainment at my house and enjoying themselves
very much, created such a disturbance that the provost of
the castle, a rigid man, has ordered them to be confined for
some days; but I accomplish the order they have given me by
forwarding to you a dozen bottles of my Anjou wine, with
which they are much pleased. They are desirous that you
should drink to their health in their favorite wine. I have
done this, and am, monsieur, with great respect,
Your very humble and obedient servant,
Godeau, Purveyor of the Musketeers
"That''s all well!" cried D''Artagnan. They think of me in
their pleasures, as I thought of them in my troubles. Well,
I will certainly drink to their health with all my heart,
but I will not drink alone."
And D''Artagnan went among those Guardsmen with whom he had
formed greater intimacy than with the others, to invite them
to enjoy with him this present of delicious Anjou wine which
had been sent him from Villeroy.
One of the two Guardsmen was engaged that evening, and
another the next, so the meeting was fixed for the day after
that.
D''Artagnan, on his return, sent the twelve bottles of wine
to the refreshment room of the Guards, with strict orders
that great care should be taken of it; and then, on the day
appointed, as the dinner was fixed for midday D''Artagnan
sent Planchet at nine in the morning to assist in preparing
everything for the entertainment.
Planchet, very proud of being raised to the dignity of
landlord, thought he would make all ready, like an
intelligent man; and with this view called in the assistance
of the lackey of one of his master''s guests, named Fourreau,
and the false soldier who had tried to kill D''Artagnan and
who, belonging to no corps, had entered into the service of
D''Artagnan, or rather of Planchet, after D''Artagnan had
saved his life.
The hour of the banquet being come, the two guards arrived,
took their places, and the dishes were arranged on the
table. Planchet waited, towel on arm; Fourreau uncorked the
bottles; and Brisemont, which was the name of the
convalescent, poured the wine, which was a little shaken by
its journey, carefully into decanters. Of this wine, the
first bottle being a little thick at the bottom, Brisemont
poured the lees into a glass, and D''Artagnan desired him to
drink it, for the poor devil had not yet recovered his
strength.
The guests having eaten the soup, were about to lift the
first glass of wine to their lips, when all at once the
cannon sounded from Fort Louis and Fort Neuf. The
Guardsmen, imagining this to be caused by some unexpected
attack, either of the besieged or the English, sprang to
their swords. D''Artagnan, not less forward than they, did
likewise, and all ran out, in order to repair to their
posts.
But scarcely were they out of the room before they were made
aware of the cause of this noise. Cries of "Live the king!
Live the cardinal!" resounded on every side, and the drums
were beaten in all directions.
In short, the king, impatient, as has been said, had come by
forced marches, and had that moment arrived with all his
household and a reinforcement of ten thousand troops. His
Musketeers proceeded and followed him. D''Artagnan, placed
in line with his company, saluted with an expressive gesture
his three friends, whose eyes soon discovered him, and M. de
Treville, who detected him at once.
The ceremony of reception over, the four friends were soon
in one another''s arms.
"Pardieu!" cried D''Artagnan, "you could not have arrived in
better time; the dinner cannot have had time to get cold!
Can it, gentlemen?" added the young man, turning to the two
Guards, whom he introduced to his friends.
"Ah, ah!" said Porthos, "it appears we are feasting!"
"I hope," said Aramis, "there are no women at your dinner."
"Is there any drinkable wine in your tavern?" asked Athos.
"Well, pardieu! there is yours, my dear friend," replied
D''Artagnan.
"Our wine!" said Athos, astonished.
"Yes, that you sent me."
"We send you wine?"
"You know very well--the wine from the hills of Anjou."
"Yes, I know what brand you are talking about."
"The wine you prefer."
"Well, in the absence of champagne and chambertin, you must
content yourselves with that."
"And so, connoisseurs in wine as we are, we have sent you
some Anjou wine?" said Porthos.
"Not exactly, it is the wine that was sent by your order."
"On our account?" said the three Musketeers.
"Did you send this wine, Aramis?" said Athos.
"No; and you, Porthos?"
"No; and you, Athos?"
"No!"
"If it was not you, it was your purveyor," said D''Artagnan.
"Our purveyor!"
"Yes, your purveyor, Godeau--the purveyor of the
Musketeers."
"My faith! never mind where it comes from," said Porthos,
"let us taste it, and if it is good, let us drink it."
"No," said Athos; "don''t let us drink wine which comes from
an unknown source."
"You are right, Athos," said D''Artagnan. "Did none of you
charge your purveyor, Godeau, to send me some wine?"
"No! And yet you say he has sent you some as from us?"
"Here is his letter," said D''Artagnan, and he presented the
note to his comrades.
"This is not his writing!" said Athos. "I am acquainted
with it; before we left Villeroy I settled the accounts of
the regiment."
"A false letter altogether," said Porthos, "we have not been
disciplined."
"D''Artagnan," said Aramis, in a reproachful tone, "how could
you believe that we had made a disturbance?"
D''Artagnan grew pale, and a convulsive trembling shook all
his limbs.
"Thou alarmest me!" said Athos, who never used thee and thou
but upon very particular occasions, "what has happened?"
"Look you, my friends!" cried D''Artagnan, "a horrible
suspicion crosses my mind! Can this be another vengeance of
that woman?"
It was now Athos who turned pale.
D''Artagnan rushed toward the refreshment room, the three
Musketeers and the two Guards following him.
The first object that met the eyes of D''Artagnan on entering
the room was Brisemont, stretched upon the ground and
rolling in horrible convulsions.
Planchet and Fourreau, as pale as death, were trying to give
him succor; but it was plain that all assistance was
useless--all the features of the dying man were distorted
with agony.
"Ah!" cried he, on perceiving D''Artagnan, "ah! this is
frightful! You pretend to pardon me, and you poison me!"
"I!" cried D''Artagnan. "I, wretch? What do you say?"
"I say that it was you who gave me the wine; I say that it
was you who desired me to drink it. I say you wished to
avenge yourself on me, and I say that it is horrible!"
"Do not think so, Brisemont," said D''Artagnan; "do not think
so. I swear to you, I protest--"
"Oh, but God is above! God will punish you! My God, grant
that he may one day suffer what I suffer!"
"Upon the Gospel," said D''Artagnan, throwing himself down by
the dying man, "I swear to you that the wine was poisoned
and that I was going to drink of it as you did."
"I do not believe you," cried the soldier, and he expired
amid horrible tortures.
"Frightful! frightful!" murmured Athos, while Porthos broke
the bottles and Aramis gave orders, a little too late, that
a confessor should be sent for."
"Oh, my friends," said D''Artagnan, "you come once more to
save my life, not only mine but that of these gentlemen.
Gentlemen," continued he, addressing the Guardsmen, "I
request you will be silent with regard to this adventure.
Great personages may have had a hand in what you have seen,
and if talked about, the evil would only recoil upon us."
"Ah, monsieur!" stammered Planchet, more dead than alive,
"ah, monsieur, what an escape I have had!"
"How, sirrah! you were going to drink my wine?"
"To the health of the king, monsieur; I was going to drink a
small glass of it if Fourreau had not told me I was called."
"Alas!" said Fourreau, whose teeth chattered with terror, "I wanted to get him out of the way that I might drink myself."
"Gentlemen," said D''Artagnan, addressing the Guardsmen, "you
may easily comprehend that such a feast can only be very
dull after what has taken place; so accept my excuses, and
put off the party till another day, I beg of you."
The two Guardsmen courteously accepted D''Artagnan''s excuses,
and perceiving that the four friends desired to be alone,
retired.
When the young Guardsman and the three Musketeers were
without witnesses, they looked at one another with an air
which plainly expressed that each of them perceived the
gravity of their situation.
"In the first place," said Athos, "let us leave this
chamber; the dead are not agreeable company, particularly
when they have died a violent death."
"Planchet," said D''Artagnan, "I commit the corpse of this
poor devil to your care. Let him be interred in holy
ground. He committed a crime, it is true; but he repented
of it."
And the four friends quit the room, leaving to Planchet and
Fourreau the duty of paying mortuary honors to Brisemont.
The host gave them another chamber, and served them with
fresh eggs and some water, which Athos went himself to draw
at the fountain. In a few words, Porthos and Aramis were
posted as to the situation.
"Well," said D''Artagnan to Athos, "you see, my dear friend,
that this is war to the death."
Athos shook his head.
"Yes, yes," replied he, "I perceive that plainly; but do you
really believe it is she?"
"I am sure of it."
"Nevertheless, I confess I still doubt."
"But the fleur-de-lis on her shoulder?"
"She is some Englishwoman who has committed a crime in
France, and has been branded in consequence."
"Athos, she is your wife, I tell you," repeated D''Artagnan;
"only reflect how much the two descriptions resemble each
other."
"Yes; but I should think the other must be dead, I hanged
her so effectually."
It was D''Artagnan who now shook his head in his turn.
"But in either case, what is to be done?" said the young
man.
"The fact is, one cannot remain thus, with a sword hanging
eternally over his head," said Athos. "We must extricate
ourselves from this position."
"But how?"
"Listen! You must try to see her, and have an explanation
with her. Say to her: ''Peace or war! My word as a
gentleman never to say anything of you, never to do anything
against you; on your side, a solemn oath to remain neutral
with respect to me. If not, I will apply to the chancellor,
I will apply to the king, I will apply to the hangman, I
will move the courts against you, I will denounce you as
branded, I will bring you to trial; and if you are
acquitted, well, by the faith of a gentleman, I will kill
you at the corner of some wall, as I would a mad dog.''"
"I like the means well enough," said D''Artagnan, "but where
and how to meet with her?"
"Time, dear friend, time brings round opportunity;
opportunity is the martingale of man. The more we have
ventured the more we gain, when we know how to wait."
"Yes; but to wait surrounded by assassins and poisoners."
"Bah!" said Athos. "God has preserved us hitherto, God will
preserve us still."
"Yes, we. Besides, we are men; and everything considered,
it is our lot to risk our lives; but she," asked he, in an
undertone.
"What she?" asked Athos.
"Constance."
"Madame Bonacieux! Ah, that''s true!" said Athos. "My poor
friend, I had forgotten you were in love."
"Well, but," said Aramis, "have you not learned by the
letter you found on the wretched corpse that she is in a
convent? One may be very comfortable in a convent; and as
soon as the siege of La Rochelle is terminated, I promise
you on my part--"
"Good," cried Athos, "good! Yes, my dear Aramis, we all
know that your views have a religious tendency."
"I am only temporarily a Musketeer," said Aramis, humbly.
"It is some time since we heard from his mistress," said
Athos, in a low voice. "But take no notice; we know all
about that."
"Well," said Porthos, "it appears to me that the means are
very simple."
"What?" asked D''Artagnan.
"You say she is in a convent?" replied Porthos.
"Yes."
"Very well. As soon as the siege is over, we''ll carry her
off from that convent."
"But we must first learn what convent she is in."
"That''s true," said Porthos.
"But I think I have it," said Athos. "Don''t you say, dear
D''Artagnan, that it is the queen who has made choice of the
convent for her?"
"I believe so, at least."
"In that case Porthos will assist us."
"And how so, if you please?"
"Why, by your marchioness, your duchess, your princess. She
must have a long arm."
"Hush!" said Porthos, placing a finger on his lips. "I
believe her to be a cardinalist; she must know nothing of
the matter."
"Then," said Aramis, "I take upon myself to obtain
intelligence of her."
"You, Aramis?" cried the three friends. "You! And how?"
"By the queen''s almoner, to whom I am very intimately
allied," said Aramis, coloring.
And on this assurance, the four friends, who had finished
their modest repast, separated, with the promise of meeting
again that evening. D''Artagnan returned to less important
affairs, and the three Musketeers repaired to the king''s
quarters, where they had to prepare their lodging.

43 The Sign of the Red Dovecot
Meanwhile the king, who, with more reason than the cardinal,
showed his hatred for Buckingham, although scarcely arrived
was in such a haste to meet the enemy that he commanded
every disposition to be made to drive the English from the
Isle of Re, and afterward to press the siege of La Rochelle;
but notwithstanding his earnest wish, he was delayed by the
dissensions which broke out between MM. Bassompierre and
Schomberg, against the Duc d''Angouleme.
MM. Bassompierre and Schomberg were marshals of France, and
claimed their right of commanding the army under the orders
of the king; but the cardinal, who feared that Bassompierre,
a Huguenot at heart, might press but feebly the English and
Rochellais, his brothers in religion, supported the Duc
d''Angouleme, whom the king, at his instigation, had named
lieutenant general. The result was that to prevent MM.
Bassompierre and Schomberg from deserting the army, a
separate command had to be given to each. Bassompierre took
up his quarters on the north of the city, between Leu and
Dompierre; the Duc d''angouleme on the east, from Dompierre
to Perigny; and M. de Schomberg on the south, from Perigny
to Angoutin.
The quarters of Monsieur were at Dompierre; the quarters of
the king were sometimes at Estree, sometimes at Jarrie; the
cardinal''s quarters were upon the downs, at the bridge of La
Pierre, in a simple house without any entrenchment. So that
Monsieur watched Bassompierre; the king, the Duc
d''Angouleme; and the cardinal, M. de Schomberg.
As soon as this organization was established, they set about
driving the English from the Isle.
The juncture was favorable. The English, who require, above
everything, good living in order to be good soldiers, only
eating salt meat and bad biscuit, had many invalids in their
camp. Still further, the sea, very rough at this period of
the year all along the sea coast, destroyed every day some
little vessel; and the shore, from the point of l''Aiguillon
to the trenches, was at every tide literally covered with
the wrecks of pinnacles, roberges, and feluccas. The result
was that even if the king''s troops remained quietly in their
camp, it was evident that some day or other, Buckingham, who
only continued in the Isle from obstinacy, would be obliged
to raise the siege.
But as M. de Toiras gave information that everything was
preparing in the enemy''s camp for a fresh assault, the king
judged that it would be best to put an end to the affair,
and gave the necessary orders for a decisive action.
As it is not our intention to give a journal of the siege,
but on the contrary only to describe such of the events of
it as are connected with the story we are relating, we will
content ourselves with saying in two words that the
expe***ion succeeded, to the great astonishment of the king
and the great glory of the cardinal. The English, repulsed
foot by foot, beaten in all encounters, and defeated in the
passage of the Isle of Loie, were obliged to re-embark,
leaving on the field of battle two thousand men, among whom
were five colonels, three lieutenant colonels, two hundred
and fifty captains, twenty gentlemen of rank, four pieces of
cannon, and sixty flags, which were taken to Paris by Claude
de St. Simon, and suspended with great pomp in the arches of
Notre Dame.
Te Deums were chanted in camp, and afterward throughout
France.
The cardinal was left free to carry on the siege, without
having, at least at the present, anything to fear on the
part of the English.
But it must be acknowledged, this response was but
momentary. An envoy of the Duke of Buckingham, named
Montague, was taken, and proof was obtained of a league
between the German Empire, Spain, England, and Lorraine.
This league was directed against France.
Still further, in Buckingham''s lodging, which he had been
forced to abandon more precipitately than he expected,
papers were found which confirmed this alliance and which,
as the cardinal asserts in his memoirs, strongly compromised
Mme. de Chevreuse and consequently the queen.
It was upon the cardinal that all the responsibility fell,
for one is not a despotic minister without responsibility.
All, therefore, of the vast resources of his genius were at
work night and day, engaged in listening to the least report
heard in any of the great kingdoms of Europe.
The cardinal was acquainted with the activity, and more
particularly the hatred, of Buckingham. If the league which
threatened France triumphed, all his influence would be
lost. Spanish policy and Austrian policy would have their
representatives in the cabinet of the Louvre, where they had
as yet but partisans; and he, Richelieu--the French
minister, the national minister--would be ruined. The king,
even while obeying him like a child, hated him as a child
hates his master, and would abandon him to the personal
vengeance of Monsieur and the queen. He would then be lost,
and France, perhaps, with him. All this must be prepared
against.
Courtiers, becoming every instant more numerous, succeeded
one another, day and night, in the little house of the
bridge of La Pierre, in which the cardinal had established
his residence.
There were monks who wore the frock with such an ill grace
that it was easy to perceive they belonged to the church
militant; women a little inconvenienced by their costume as
pages and whose large trousers could not entirely conceal
their rounded forms; and peasants with blackened hands but
with fine limbs, savoring of the man of quality a league
off.
There were also less agreeable visits--for two or three
times reports were spread that the cardinal had nearly been
assassinated.
It is true that the enemies of the cardinal said that it was
he himself who set these bungling assassins to work, in
order to have, if wanted, the right of using reprisals; but
we must not believe everything ministers say, nor everything
their enemies say.
These attempts did not prevent the cardinal, to whom his
most inveterate detractors have never denied personal
bravery, from making nocturnal excursions, sometimes to
communicate to the Duc d''Angouleme important orders,
sometimes to confer with the king, and sometimes to have an
interview with a messenger whom he did not wish to see at
home.
On their part the Musketeers, who had not much to do with
the siege, were not under very strict orders and led a
joyous life. The was the more easy for our three companions
in particular; for being friends of M. de Treville, they
obtained from him special permission to be absent after the
closing of the camp.
Now, one evening when D''Artagnan, who was in the trenches,
was not able to accompany them, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis,
mounted on their battle steeds, enveloped in their war
cloaks, with their hands upon their pistol butts, were
returning from a drinking place called the Red Dovecot,
which Athos had discovered two days before upon the route to
Jarrie, following the road which led to the camp and quite
on their guard, as we have stated, for fear of an ambuscade,
when, about a quarter of a league from the village of
Boisnau, they fancied they heard the sound of horses
approaching them. They immediately all three halted, closed
in, and waited, occupying the middle of the road. In an
instant, and as the moon broke from behind a cloud, they saw
at a turning of the road two horsemen who, on perceiving
them, stopped in their turn, appearing to deliberate whether
they should continue their route or go back. The hesitation
created some suspicion in the three friends, and Athos,
advancing a few paces in front of the others, cried in a
firm voice, "Who goes there?"
"Who goes there, yourselves?" replied one of the horsemen.
"That is not an answer," replied Athos. "Who goes there?
Answer, or we charge."
"Beware of what you are about, gentlemen!" said a clear
voice which seemed accustomed to command.
"It is some superior officer making his night rounds," said
Athos. "What do you wish, gentlemen?"
"Who are you?" said the same voice, in the same commanding
tone. "Answer in your turn, or you may repent of your
disobedience."
"King''s Musketeers," said Athos, more and more convinced
that he who interrogated them had the right to do so.
"What company?"
"Company of Treville."
"Advance, and give an account of what you are doing here at
this hour."
The three companions advanced rather humbly--for all were
now convinced that they had to do with someone more powerful
than themselves--leaving Athos the post of speaker.
One of the two riders, he who had spoken second, was ten
paces in front of his companion. Athos made a sign to
Porthos and Aramis also to remain in the rear, and advanced
alone.
"Your pardon, my officer," said Athos; "but we were ignorant
with whom we had to do, and you may see that we were good
guard."
"Your name?" said the officer, who covered a part of his
face with his cloak.
"But yourself, monsieur," said Athos, who began to be
annoyed by this inquisition, "give me, I beg you, the proof
that you have the right to question me."
"Your name?" repeated the cavalier a second time, letting
his cloak fall, and leaving his face uncovered.
"Monsieur the Cardinal!" cried the stupefied Musketeer.
"Your name?" cried his Eminence, for the third time.
"Athos," said the Musketeer.
The cardinal made a sign to his attendant, who drew near.
"These three Musketeers shall follow us," said he, in an
undertone. "I am not willing it should be known I have left
the camp; and if they follow us we shall be certain they
will tell nobody."
"We are gentlemen, monseigneur," said Athos; "require our
parole, and give yourself no uneasiness. Thank God, we can
keep a secret."
The cardinal fixed his piercing eyes on this courageous
speaker.
"You have a quick ear, Monsieur Athos," said the cardinal;
"but now listen to this. It is not from mistrust that I
request you to follow me, but for my security. Your
companions are no doubt Messieurs Porthos and Aramis."
"Yes, your Eminence," said Athos, while the two Musketeers
who had remained behind advanced hat in hand.
"I know you, gentlemen," said the cardinal, "I know you. I
know you are not quite my friends, and I am sorry you are
not so; but I know you are brave and loyal gentlemen, and
that confidence may be placed in you. Monsieur Athos, do
me, then, the honor to accompany me; you and your two
friends, and then I shall have an escort to excite envy in
his Majesty, if we should meet him."
The three Musketeers bowed to the necks of their horses.
"Well, upon my honor," said Athos, "your Eminence is right
in taking us with you; we have seen several ill-looking
faces on the road, and we have even had a quarrel at the Red
Dovecot with four of those faces."
"A quarrel, and what for, gentlemen?" said the cardinal;
"you know I don''t like quarrelers."
"And that is the reason why I have the honor to inform your
Eminence of what has happened; for you might learn it from
others, and upon a false account believe us to be in fault."
"What have been the results of your quarrel?" said the
cardinal, knitting his brow.
"My friend, Aramis, here, has received a slight sword wound
in the arm, but not enough to prevent him, as your Eminence
may see, from mounting to the assault tomorrow, if your
Eminence orders an escalade."
"But you are not the men to allow sword wounds to be
inflicted upon you thus," said the cardinal. "Come, be
frank, gentlemen, you have settled accounts with somebody!
Confess; you know I have the right of giving absolution."
"I, monseigneur?" said Athos. "I did not even draw my
sword, but I took him who offended me round the body, and
threw him out of the window. It appears that in falling,"
continued Athos, with some hesitation, "he broke his thigh."
"Ah, ah!" said the cardinal; "and you, Monsieur Porthos?"
"I, monseigneur, knowing that dueling is prohibited--I
seized a bench, and gave one of those brigands such a blow
that I believe his shoulder is broken."
"Very well," said the cardinal; "and you, Monsieur Aramis?"
"Monseigneur, being of a very mild disposition, and being,
likewise, of which Monseigneur perhaps is not aware, about
to enter into orders, I endeavored to appease my comrades,
when one of these wretches gave me a wound with a sword,
treacherously, across my left arm. Then I admit my patience
failed me; I drew my sword in my turn, and as he came back
to the charge, I fancied I felt that in throwing himself
upon me, he let it pass through his body. I only know for a
certainty that he fell; and it seemed to me that he was
borne away with his two companions."
"The devil, gentlemen!" said the cardinal, "three men placed
hors de combat in a cabaret squabble! You don''t do your
work by halves. And pray what was this quarrel about?"
"These fellows were drunk," said Athos. "and knowing there
was a lady who had arrived at the cabaret this evening, they
wanted to force her door."
"Force her door!" said the cardinal, "and for what purpose?"
"To do her violence, without doubt," said Athos. "I have
had the honor of informing your Eminence that these men were
drunk."
"And was this lady young and handsome?" asked the cardinal,
with a certain degree of anxiety.
"We did not see her, monseigneur," said Athos.
"You did not see her? Ah, very well," replied the cardinal,
quickly. "You did well to defend the honor of a woman; and
as I am going to the Red Dovecot myself, I shall know if you
have told me the truth."
"Monseigneur," said Athos, haughtily, "we are gentlemen, and
to save our heads we would not be guilty of a falsehood."
"Therefore I do not doubt what you say, Monsieur Athos, I do
not doubt it for a single instant; but," added he, "to
change the conversation, was this lady alone?"
"The lady had a cavalier shut up with her," said Athos, "but
as notwithstanding the noise, this cavalier did not show
himself, it is to be presumed that he is a coward."
"Judge not rashly, says the Gospel," replied the cardinal.
Athos bowed.
"And now, gentlemen, that''s well," continued the cardinal.
"I know what I wish to know; follow me."
The three Musketeers passed behind his Eminence, who again
enveloped his face in his cloak, and put his horse in
motion, keeping from eight to ten paces in advance of his
four companions.
They soon arrived at the silent, solitary inn. No doubt the
host knew what illustrious visitor was expected, and had
consequently sent intruders out of the way.
Ten paces from the door the cardinal made a sign to his
esquire and the three Musketeers to halt. A saddled horse
was fastened to the window shutter. The cardinal knocked
three times, and in a peculiar manner.
A man, enveloped in a cloak, came out immediately, and
exchanged some rapid words with the cardinal; after which he
mounted his horse, and set off in the direction of Surgeres,
which was likewise the way to Paris.
"Advance, gentlemen," said the cardinal.
"You have told me the truth, my gentlemen," said he,
addressing the Musketeers, "and it will not be my fault if
our encounter this evening be not advantageous to you. In
the meantime, follow me."
The cardinal alighted; the three Musketeers did likewise.
The cardinal threw the bridle of his horse to his esquire;
the three Musketeers fastened the horses to the shutters.
The host stood at the door. For him, the cardinal was only
an officer coming to visit a lady.
"Have you any chamber on the ground floor where these
gentlemen can wait near a good fire?" said the cardinal.
The host opened the door of a large room, in which an old
stove had just been replaced by a large and excellent
chimney.
"I have this," said he.
"That will do," replied the cardinal. "Enter, gentlemen,
and be kind enough to wait for me; I shall not be more than
half an hour."
And while the three Musketeers entered the ground floor
room, the cardinal, without asking further information,
ascended the staircase like a man who has no need of having
his road pointed out to him.

44 THE UTILITY OF STOVEPIPES
It was evident that without suspecting it, and actuated
solely by their chivalrous and adventurous character, our
three friends had just rendered a service to someone the
cardinal honored with his special protection.
Now, who was that someone? That was the question the three
Musketeers put to one another. Then, seeing that none of
their replies could throw any light on the subject, Porthos
called the host and asked for dice.
Porthos and Aramis placed themselves at the table and began
to play. Athos walked about in a contemplative mood.
While thinking and walking, Athos passed and repassed before
the pipe of the stove, broken in halves, the other extremity
passing into the chamber above; and every time he passed and
repassed he heard a murmur of words, which at length fixed
his attention. Athos went close to it, and distinguished
some words that appeared to merit so great an interest that
he made a sign to his friends to be silent, remaining
himself bent with his ear directed to the opening of the
lower orifice.
"Listen, Milady," said the cardinal, "the affair is
important. Sit down, and let us talk it over."
"Milady!" murmured Athos.
"I listen to your Eminence with greatest attention," replied
a female voice which made the Musketeer start.
"A small vessel with an English crew, whose captain is on my
side, awaits you at the mouth of Charente, at fort of the
Point. He will set sail tomorrow morning."
"I must go thither tonight?"
"Instantly! That is to say, when you have received my
instructions. Two men, whom you will find at the door on
going out, will serve you as escort. You will allow me to
leave first; then, after half an hour, you can go away in
your turn."
"Yes, monseigneur. Now let us return to the mission with
which you wish to charge me; and as I desire to continue to
merit the confidence of your Eminence, deign to unfold it to
me in terms clear and precise, that I may not commit an
error."
There was an instant of profound silence between the two
interlocutors. It was evident that the cardinal was
weighing beforehand the terms in which he was about to
speak, and that Milady was collecting all her intellectual
faculties to comprehend the things he was about to say, and
to engrave them in her memory when they should be spoken.
Athos took advantage of this moment to tell his two
companions to fasten the door inside, and to make them a
sign to come and listen with him.
The two Musketeers, who loved their ease, brought a chair
for each of themselves and one for Athos. All three then
sat down with their heads together and their ears on the
alert.
"You will go to London," continued the cardinal. "Arrived
in London, you will seek Buckingham."
"I must beg your Eminence to observe," said Milady, "that
since the affair of the diamond studs, about which the duke
always suspected me, his Grace distrusts me."
"Well, this time," said the cardinal, "it is not necessary
to steal his confidence, but to present yourself frankly and
loyally as a negotiator."
"Frankly and loyally," repeated Milady, with an unspeakable
expression of duplicity.
"Yes, frankly and loyally," replied the cardinal, in the
same tone. "All this negotiation must be carried on
openly."
"I will follow your Eminence''s instructions to the letter.
I only wait till you give them."
"You will go to Buckingham in my behalf, and you will tell
him I am acquainted with all the preparations he has made;
but that they give me no uneasiness, since at the first step
he takes I will ruin the queen."
"Will he believe that your Eminence is in a position to
accomplish the threat thus made?"
"Yes; for I have the proofs."
"I must be able to present these proofs for his
appreciation."
"Without doubt. And you will tell him I will publish the
report of Bois-Robert and the Marquis de Beautru, upon the
interview which the duke had at the residence of Madame the
Constable with the queen on the evening Madame the Constable
gave a masquerade. You will tell him, in order that he may
not doubt, that he came there in the costume of the Great
Mogul, which the Chevalier de Guise was to have worn, and
that he purchased this exchange for the sum of three
thousand pistoles."
"Well, monseigneur?"
"All the details of his coming into and going out of the
palace--on the night when he introduced himself in the
character of an Italian fortune teller--you will tell him,
that he may not doubt the correctness of my information;
that he had under his cloak a large white robe dotted with
black tears, death''s heads, and crossbones--for in case of a
surprise, he was to pass for the phantom of the White Lady
who, as all the world knows, appears at the Louvre every
time any great event is impending."
"Is that all, monseigneur?"
"Tell him also that I am acquainted with all the details of
the adventure at Amiens; that I will have a little romance
made of it, wittily turned, with a plan of the garden and
portraits of the principal actors in that nocturnal
romance."
"I will tell him that."
"Tell him further that I hold Montague in my power; that
Montague is in the Bastille; that no letters were found upon
him, it is true, but that torture may make him tell much of
what he knows, and even what he does not know."
"Exactly."
"Then add that his Grace has, in the precipitation with
which he quit the Isle of Re, forgotten and left behind him
in his lodging a certain letter from Madame de Chevreuse
which singularly compromises the queen, inasmuch as it
proves not only that her Majesty can love the enemies of the
king but that she can conspire with the enemies of France.
You recollect perfectly all I have told you, do you not?"
"Your Eminence will judge: the ball of Madame the Constable;
the night at the Louvre; the evening at Amiens; the arrest
of Montague; the letter of Madame de Chevreuse."
"That''s it," said the cardinal, "that''s it. You have an
excellent memory, Milady."
"But," resumed she to whom the cardinal addressed this
flattering compliment, "if, in spite of all these reasons,
the duke does not give way and continues to menace France?"
"The duke is in love to madness, or rather to folly,"
replied Richelieu, with great bitterness. "Like the ancient
paladins, he has only undertaken this war to obtain a look
from his lady love. If he becomes certain that this war
will cost the honor, and perhaps the liberty, of the lady of
his thoughts, as he says, I will answer for it he will look
twice."
"And yet," said Milady, with a persistence that proved she
wished to see clearly to the end of the mission with which
she was about to be charged, "if he persists?"
"If he persists?" said the cardinal. "That is not
probable."
"It is possible," said Milady.
"If he persists--" His Eminence made a pause, and resumed:
"If he persists--well, then I shall hope for one of those
events which change the destinies of states."
"If your Eminence would quote to me some one of these events
in history," said Milady, "perhaps I should partake of your
confidence as to the future."
"Well, here, for example," said Richelieu: "when, in 1610,
for a cause similar to that which moves the duke, King Henry
IV, of glorious memory, was about, at the same time, to
invade Flanders and Italy, in order to attack Austria on
both sides. Well, did there not happen an event which saved
Austria? Why should not the king of France have the same
chance as the emperor?"
"Your Eminence means, I presume, the knife stab in the Rue
de la Feronnerie?"
"Precisely," said the cardinal.
"Does not your Eminence fear that the punishment inflicted
upon Ravaillac may deter anyone who might entertain the idea
of imitating him?"
"There will be, in all times and in all countries,
particularly if religious divisions exist in those
countries, fanatics who ask nothing better than to become
martyrs. Ay, and observe--it just occurs to me that the
Puritans are furious against Buckingham, and their preachers
designate him as the Antichrist."
"Well?" said Milady.
"Well," continued the cardinal, in an indifferent tone, "the
only thing to be sought for at this moment is some woman,
handsome, young, and clever, who has cause of quarrel with
the duke. The duke has had many affairs of gallantry; and
if he has fostered his amours by promises of eternal
constancy, he must likewise have sown the seeds of hatred by
his eternal infidelities."
"No doubt," said Milady, coolly, "such a woman may be
found."
"Well, such a woman, who would place the knife of Jacques
Clement or of Ravaillac in the hands of a fanatic, would
save France."
"Yes; but she would then be the accomplice of an
assassination."
"Were the accomplices of Ravaillac or of Jacques Clement
ever known?"
"No; for perhaps they were too high-placed for anyone to
dare look for them where they were. The Palace of Justice
would not be burned down for everybody, monseigneur."
"You think, then, that the fire at the Palace of Justice was
not caused by chance?" asked Richelieu, in the tone with
which he would have put a question of no importance.
"I, monseigneur?" replied Milady. "I think nothing; I quote
a fact, that is all. Only I say that if I were named Madame
de Montpensier, or the Queen Marie de Medicis, I should use
less precautions than I take, being simply called Milady
Clarik."
"That is just," said Richelieu. "What do you require,
then?"
"I require an order which would ratify beforehand all that I
should think proper to do for the greatest good of France."
"But in the first place, this woman I have described must be
found who is desirous of avenging herself upon the duke."
"She is found," said Milady.
"Then the miserable fanatic must be found who will serve as
an instrument of God''s justice."
"He will be found."
"Well," said the cardinal, "then it will be time to claim
the order which you just now required."
"Your Eminence is right," replied Milady; "and I have been
wrong in seeing in the mission with which you honor me
anything but that which it really is--that is, to announce
to his Grace, on the part of your Eminence, that you are
acquainted with the different disguises by means of which he
succeeded in approaching the queen during the fete given by
Madame the Constable; that you have proofs of the interview
granted at the Louvre by the queen to a certain Italian
astrologer who was no other than the Duke of Buckingham;
that you have ordered a little romance of a satirical nature
to be written upon the adventures of Amiens, with a plan of
the gardens in which those adventures took place, and
portraits of the actors who figured in them; that Montague
is in the Bastille, and that the torture may make him say
things he remembers, and even things he has forgotten; that
you possess a certain letter from Madame de Chevreuse, found
in his Grace''s lodging, which singularly compromises not
only her who wrote it, but her in whose name it was written.
Then, if he persists, notwithstanding all this--as that is,
as I have said, the limit of my mission--I shall have
nothing to do but to pray God to work a miracle for the
salvation of France. That is it, is it not, monseigneur,
and I shall have nothing else to do?"
"That is it," replied the cardinal, dryly.
"And now," said Milady, without appearing to remark the
change of the duke''s tone toward her--"now that I have
received the instructions of your Eminence as concerns your
enemies, Monseigneur will permit me to say a few words to
him of mine?"
"Have you enemies, then?" asked Richelieu.
"Yes, monseigneur, enemies against whom you owe me all your
support, for I made them by serving your Eminence."
"Who are they?" replied the duke.
"In the first place, there is a little intrigante named
Bonacieux."
"She is in the prison of Nantes."
"That is to say, she was there," replied Milady; "but the
queen has obtained an order from the king by means of which
she has been conveyed to a convent."
"To a convent?" said the duke.
"Yes, to a convent."
"And to which?"
"I don''t know; the secret has been well kept."
"But I will know!"
"And your Eminence will tell me in what convent that woman
is?"
"I can see nothing inconvenient in that," said the cardinal.
"Well, now I have an enemy much more to be dreaded by me
than this little Madame Bonacieux."
"Who is that?"
"Her lover."
"What is his name?"
"Oh, your Eminence knows him well," cried Milady, carried
away by her anger. "He is the evil genius of both of us.
It is he who in an encounter with your Eminence''s Guards
decided the victory in favor of the king''s Musketeers; it is
he who gave three desperate wounds to De Wardes, your
emissary, and who caused the affair of the diamond studs to
fail; it is he who, knowing it was I who had Madame
Bonacieux carried off, has sworn my death."
"Ah, ah!" said the cardinal, "I know of whom you speak."
"I mean that miserable D''Artagnan."
"He is a bold fellow," said the cardinal.
"And it is exactly because he is a bold fellow that he is
the more to be feared."
"I must have," said the duke, "a proof of his connection
with Buckingham."
"A proof?" cried Milady; "I will have ten."
"Well, then, it becomes the simplest thing in the world; get
me that proof, and I will send him to the Bastille."
"So far good, monseigneur; but afterwards?"
"When once in the Bastille, there is no afterward!" said the
cardinal, in a low voice. "Ah, pardieu!" continued he, "if
it were as easy for me to get rid of my enemy as it is easy
to get rid of yours, and if it were against such people you
require impunity--"
"Monseigneur," replied Milady, "a fair exchange. Life for
life, man for man; give me one, I will give you the other."
"I don''t know what you mean, nor do I even desire to know
what you mean," replied the cardinal; "but I wish to please
you, and see nothing out of the way in giving you what you
demand with respect to so infamous a creature--the more so
as you tell me this D''Artagnan is a libertine, a duelist,
and a traitor."
"An infamous scoundrel, monseigneur, a scoundrel!"
"Give me paper, a quill, and some ink, then," said the
cardinal.
"Here they are, monseigneur."
There was a moment of silence, which proved that the
cardinal was employed in seeking the terms in which he
should write the note, or else in writing it. Athos, who
had not lost a word of the conversation, took his two
companions by the hand, and led them to the other end of the
room.
"Well," said Porthos, "what do you want, and why do you not
let us listen to the end of the conversation?"
"Hush!" said Athos, speaking in a low voice. "We have heard
all it was necessary we should hear; besides, I don''t
prevent you from listening, but I must be gone."
"You must be gone!" said Porthos; "and if the cardinal asks
for you, what answer can we make?"
"You will not wait till he asks; you will speak first, and
tell him that I am gone on the lookout, because certain
expressions of our host have given me reason to think the
road is not safe. I will say two words about it to the
cardinal''s esquire likewise. The rest concerns myself;
don''t be uneasy about that."
"Be prudent, Athos," said Aramis.
"Be easy on that head," replied Athos; "you know I am cool
enough."
Porthos and Aramis resumed their places by the stovepipe.
As to Athos, he went out without any mystery, took his
horse, which was tied with those of his friends to the
fastenings of the shutters, in four words convinced the
attendant of the necessity of a vanguard for their return,
carefully examined the priming of his pistols, drew his
sword, and took, like a forlorn hope, the road to the camp.

45 A CONJUGAL SCENE
As Athos had foreseen, it was not long before the cardinal
came down. He opened the door of the room in which the
Musketeers were, and found Porthos playing an earnest game
of dice with Aramis. He cast a rapid glance around the
room, and perceived that one of his men was missing.
"What has become of Monseigneur Athos?" asked he.
"Monseigneur," replied Porthos, "he has gone as a scout, on
account of some words of our host, which made him believe
the road was not safe."
"And you, what have you done, Monsieur Porthos?"
"I have won five pistoles of Aramis."
"Well; now will you return with me?"
"We are at your Eminence''s orders."
"To horse, then, gentlemen; for it is getting late."
The attendant was at the door, holding the cardinal''s horse
by the bridle. At a short distance a group of two men and
three horses appeared in the shade. These were the two men
who were to conduct Milady to the fort of the Point, and
superintend her embarkation.
The attendant confirmed to the cardinal what the two
Musketeers had already said with respect to Athos. The
cardinal made an approving gesture, and retraced his route
with the same precautions he had used incoming.
Let us leave him to follow the road to the camp protected by
his esquire and the two Musketeers, and return to Athos.
For a hundred paces he maintained the speed at which he
started; but when out of sight he turned his horse to the
right, made a circuit, and came back within twenty paces of
a high hedge to watch the passage of the little troop.
Having recognized the laced hats of his companions and the
golden fringe of the cardinal''s cloak, he waited till the
horsemen had turned the angle of the road, and having lost
sight of them, he returned at a gallop to the inn, which was
opened to him without hesitation.
The host recognized him.
"My officer," said Athos, "has forgotten to give a piece of
very important information to the lady, and has sent me back
to repair his forgetfulness."
"Go up," said the host; "she is still in her chamber."
Athos availed himself of the permission, ascended the stairs
with his lightest step, gained the landing, and through the
open door perceived Milady putting on her hat.
He entered the chamber and closed the door behind him. At
the noise he made in pushing the bolt, Milady turned round.
Athos was standing before the door, enveloped in his cloak,
with his hat pulled down over his eyes. On seeing this
figure, mute and immovable as a statue, Milady was
frightened.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" cried she.
"Humph," murmured Athos, "it is certainly she!"
And letting fall his cloak and raising his hat, he advanced
toward Milady.
"Do you know me, madame?" said he.
Milady made one step forward, and then drew back as if she
had seen a serpent.
"So far, well," said Athos, "I perceive you know me."
"The Comte de la Fere!" murmured Milady, becoming
exceedingly pale, and drawing back till the wall prevented
her from going any farther.
"Yes, Milady," replied Athos; "the Comte de la Fere in
person, who comes expressly from the other world to have the
pleasure of paying you a visit. Sit down, madame, and let
us talk, as the cardinal said."
Milady, under the influence of inexpressible terror, sat
down without uttering a word.
"You certainly are a demon sent upon the earth!" said Athos.
"Your power is great, I know; but you also know that with
the help of God men have often conquered the most terrible
demons. You have once before thrown yourself in my path. I
thought I had crushed you, madame; but either I was deceived
or hell has resuscitated you!"
Milady at these words, which recalled frightful
remembrances, hung down her head with a suppressed groan.
"Yes, hell has resuscitated you," continued Athos. "Hell
has made you rich, hell has given you another name, hell has
almost made you another face; but it has neither effaced the
stains from your soul nor the brand from your body."
Milady arose as if moved by a powerful spring, and her eyes
flashed lightning. Athos remained sitting.
"You believed me to be dead, did you not, as I believed you
to be? And the name of Athos as well concealed the Comte de
la Fere, as the name Milady Clarik concealed Anne de Breuil.
Was it not so you were called when your honored brother
married us? Our position is truly a strange one," continued
Athos, laughing. "We have only lived up to the present time
because we believed each other dead, and because a
remembrance is less oppressive than a living creature,
though a remembrance is sometimes devouring."
"But," said Milady, in a hollow, faint voice, "what brings
you back to me, and what do you want with me?"
"I wish to tell you that though remaining invisible to your
eyes, I have not lost sight of you."
"You know what I have done?"
"I can relate to you, day by day, your actions from your
entrance to the service of the cardinal to this evening."
A smile of incredulity passed over the pale lips of Milady.
"Listen! It was you who cut off the two diamond studs from
the shoulder of the Duke of Buckingham; it was you had the
Madame Bonacieux carried off; it was you who, in love with
De Wardes and thinking to pass the night with him, opened
the door to Monsieur d''Artagnan; it was you who, believing
that De Wardes had deceived you, wished to have him killed
by his rival; it was you who, when this rival had discovered
your infamous secret, wished to have him killed in his turn
by two assassins, whom you sent in pursuit of him; it was
you who, finding the balls had missed their mark, sent
poisoned wine with a forged letter, to make your victim
believe that the wine came from his friends. In short, it
was you who have but now in this chamber, seated in this
chair I now fill, made an engagement with Cardinal Richelieu
to cause the Duke of Buckingham to be assassinated, in
exchange for the promise he has made you to allow you to
assassinate D''Artagnan."
Milady was livid.
"You must be Satan!" cried she.
"Perhaps," said Athos; "But at all events listen well to
this. Assassinate the Duke of Buckingham, or cause him to
be assassinated--I care very little about that! I don''t
know him. Besides, he is an Englishman. But do not touch
with the tip of your finger a single hair of D''Artagnan, who
is a faithful friend whom I love and defend, or I swear to
you by the head of my father the crime which you shall have
endeavored to commit, or shall have committed, shall be the
last."
"Monsieur d''Artagnan has cruelly insulted me," said Milady,
in a hollow tone; "Monsieur d''Artagnan shall die!"
"Indeed! Is it possible to insult you, madame?" said Athos,
laughing; "he has insulted you, and he shall die!"
"He shall die!" replied Milady; "she first, and he
afterward."
Athos was seized with a kind of vertigo. The sight of this
creature, who had nothing of the woman about her, recalled
awful remembrances. He thought how one day, in a less
dangerous situation than the one in which he was now placed,
he had already endeavored to sacrifice her to his honor.
His desire for blood returned, burning his brain and
pervading his frame like a raging fever; he arose in his
turn, reached his hand to his belt, drew forth a pistol, and
****ed it.
Milady, pale as a corpse, endeavored to cry out; but her
swollen tongue could utter no more than a hoarse sound which
had nothing human in it and resembled the rattle of a wild
beast. Motionless against the dark tapestry, with her hair
in disorder, she appeared like a horrid image of terror.
Athos slowly raised his pistol, stretched out his arm so
that the weapon almost touched Milady''s forehead, and then,
in a voice the more terrible from having the supreme
calmness of a fixed resolution, "Madame," said he, "you will
this instant deliver to me the paper the cardinal signed; or
upon my soul, I will blow your brains out."
With another man, Milady might have preserved some doubt;
but she knew Athos. Nevertheless, she remained motionless.
"You have one second to decide," said he.
Milady saw by the contraction of his countenance that the
trigger was about to be pulled; she reached her hand quickly
to her bosom, drew out a paper, and held it toward Athos.
"Take it," said she, "and be accursed!"
Athos took the paper, returned the pistol to his belt,
approached the lamp to be assured that it was the paper,
unfolded it, and read:
Dec. 3, 1627
It is by more order and for the good of the state that the
bearer of this has done what he has done.
Richelieu
"And now," said Athos, resuming his cloak and putting on his
hat, "now that I have drawn your teeth, viper, bite if you
can."
And he left the chamber without once looking behind him.
At the door he found the two men and the spare horse which
they held.
"Gentlemen," said he, "Monseigneur''s order is, you know, to
conduct that woman, without losing time, to the fort of the
Point, and never to leave her till she is on board."
As these words agreed wholly with the order they had
received, they bowed their heads in sign of assent.
With regard to Athos, he leaped lightly into the saddle and
set out at full gallop; only instead of following the road,
he went across the fields, urging his horse to the utmost
and stopping occasionally to listen.
In one of those halts he heard the steps of several horses
on the road. He had no doubt it was the cardinal and his
escort. He immediately made a new point in advance, rubbed
his horse down with some heath and leaves of trees, and
placed himself across the road, about two hundred paces from
the camp.
"Who goes there?" cried he, as soon as he perceived the
horsemen.
"That is our brave Musketeer, I think," said the cardinal.
"Yes, monseigneur," said Porthos, "it is he."
"Monsieur Athos," said Richelieu, "receive my thanks for the
good guard you have kept. Gentlemen, we are arrived; take
the gate on the left. The watchword is, ''King and Re.''"
Saying these words, the cardinal saluted the three friends
with an inclination of his head, and took the right hand,
followed by his attendant--for that night he himself slept
in the camp.
"Well!" said Porthos and Aramis together, as soon as the
cardinal was out of hearing, "well, he signed the paper she
required!"
"I know it," said Athos, coolly, "since here it is."
And the three friends did not exchange another word till
they reached their quarters, except to give the watchword to
the sentinels. Only they sent Mousqueton to tell Planchet
that his master was requested, the instant that he left the
trenches, to come to the quarters of the Musketeers.
Milady, as Athos had foreseen, on finding the two men that
awaited her, made no difficulty in following them. She had
had for an instant an inclination to be reconducted to the
cardinal, and relate everything to him; but a revelation on
her part would bring about a revelation on the part of
Athos. She might say that Athos had hanged her; but then
Athos would tell that she was branded. She thought it was
best to preserve silence, to discreetly set off to
accomplish her difficult mission with her usual skill; and
then, all things being accomplished to the satisfaction of
the cardinal, to come to him and claim her vengeance.
In consequence, after having traveled all night, at seven
o''clock she was at the fort of the Point; at eight o''clock
she had embarked; and at nine, the vessel, which with
letters of marque from the cardinal was supposed to be
sailing for Bayonne, raised anchor, and steered its course
toward England.

46 THE BASTION SAINT-GERVAIS
On arriving at the lodgings of his three friends, D''Artagnan
found them assembled in the same chamber. Athos was
me***ating; Porthos was twisting his mustache; Aramis was
saying his prayers in a charming little Book of Hours, bound
in blue velvet.
"Pardieu, gentlemen," said he. "I hope what you have to
tell me is worth the trouble, or else, I warn you, I will
not pardon you for making me come here instead of getting a
little rest after a night spent in taking and dismantling a
bastion. Ah, why were you not there, gentlemen? It was
warm work."
"We were in a place where it was not very cold," replied
Porthos, giving his mustache a twist which was peculiar to
him.
"Hush!" said Athos.
"Oh, oh!" said D''Artagnan, comprehending the slight frown of
the Musketeer. "It appears there is something fresh
aboard."
"Aramis," said Athos, "you went to breakfast the day before
yesterday at the inn of the Parpaillot, I believe?"
"Yes."
"How did you fare?"
"For my part, I ate but little. The day before yesterday
was a fish day, and they had nothing but meat."
"What," said Athos, "no fish at a seaport?"
"They say," said Aramis, resuming his pious reading, "that
the dyke which the cardinal is making drives them all out
into the open sea."
"But that is not quite what I mean to ask you, Aramis,"
replied Athos. "I want to know if you were left alone, and
nobody interrupted
you."
"Why, I think there were not many intruders. Yes, Athos, I
know what you mean: we shall do very well at the
Parpaillot."
"Let us go to the Parpaillot, then, for here the walls are
like sheets of paper."
D''Artagnan, who was accustomed to his friend''s manner of
acting, and who perceived immediately, by a word, a gesture,
or a sign from him, that the circumstances were serious,
took Athos''s arm, and went out without saying anything.
Porthos followed, chatting with Aramis.
On their way they met Grimaud. Athos made him a sign to
come with them. Grimaud, according to custom, obeyed in
silence; the poor lad had nearly come to the pass of
forgetting how to speak.
They arrived at the drinking room of the Parpaillot. It was
seven o''clock in the morning, and daylight began to appear.
The three friends ordered breakfast, and went into a room in
which the host said they would not be disturbed.
Unfortunately, the hour was badly chosen for a private
conference. The morning drum had just been beaten; everyone
shook off the drowsiness of night, and to dispel the humid
morning air, came to take a drop at the inn. Dragoons,
Swiss, Guardsmen, Musketeers, light-horsemen, succeeded one
another with a rapi***y which might answer the purpose of
the host very well, but agreed badly with the views of the
four friends. Thus they applied very curtly to the
salutations, healths, and jokes of their companions.
"I see how it will be," said Athos: "we shall get into some
pretty quarrel or other, and we have no need of one just
now. D''Artagnan, tell us what sort of a night you have had,
and we will describe ours afterward."
"Ah, yes," said a light-horseman, with a glass of brandy in
his hand, which he sipped slowly. "I hear you gentlemen of
the Guards have been in the trenches tonight, and that you
did not get much the best of the Rochellais."
D''Artagnan looked at Athos to know if he ought to reply to
this intruder who thus mixed unmasked in their conversation.
"Well," said Athos, "don''t you hear Monsieur de Busigny, who
does you the honor to ask you a question? Relate what has
passed during the night, since these gentlemen desire to
know it."
"Have you not taken a bastion?" said a Swiss, who was
drinking rum out of beer glass.
"Yes, monsieur," said D''Artagnan, bowing, "we have had that
honor. We even have, as you may have heard, introduced a
barrel of powder under one of the angles, which in blowing
up made a very pretty breach. Without reckoning that as the
bastion was not built yesterday all the rest of the building
was badly shaken."
"And what bastion is it?" asked a dragoon, with his saber
run through a goose which he was taking to be cooked.
"The bastion St. Gervais," replied D''Artagnan, "from behind
which the Rochellais annoyed our workmen."
"Was that affair hot?"
"Yes, moderately so. We lost five men, and the Rochellais
eight or ten."
"Balzempleu!" said the Swiss, who, notwithstanding the
admirable collection of oaths possessed by the German
language, had acquired a habit of swearing in French.
"But it is probable," said the light-horseman, "that they
will send pioneers this morning to repair the bastion."
"Yes, that''s probable," said D''Artagnan.
"Gentlemen," said Athos, "a wager!"
"Ah, wooi, a vager!" cried the Swiss.
"What is it?" said the light-horseman.
"Stop a bit," said the dragoon, placing his saber like a
spit upon the two large iron dogs which held the firebrands
in the chimney, "stop a bit, I am in it. You cursed host! a
dripping pan immediately, that I may not lose a drop of the
fat of this estimable bird."
"You was right," said the Swiss; "goose grease is kood with
basdry."
"There!" said the dragoon. "Now for the wager! We listen, Monsieur Athos."
"Yes, the wager!" said the light-horseman.
"Well, Monsieur de Busigny, I will bet you," said Athos,
"that my three companions, Messieurs Porthos, Aramis, and
D''Artagnan, and myself, will go and breakfast in the bastion
St. Gervais, and we will remain there an hour, by the watch,
whatever the enemy may do to dislodge us."
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other; they began to
comprehend.
"But," said D''Artagnan, in the ear of Athos, "you are going
to get us all killed without mercy."
"We are much more likely to be killed," said Athos, "if we
do not go."
"My faith, gentlemen," said Porthos, turning round upon his
chair and twisting his mustache, "that''s a fair bet, I
hope."
"I take it," said M. de Busigny; "so let us fix the stake."
"You are four gentlemen," said Athos, "and we are four; an
unlimited dinner for eight. Will that do?"
"Capitally," replied M. de Busigny.
"Perfectly," said the dragoon.
"That shoots me," said the Swiss.
The fourth au***or, who during all this conversation had
played a mute part, made a sign of the head in proof that he
acquiesced in the proposition.
"The breakfast for these gentlemen is ready," said the host.
"Well, bring it," said Athos.
The host obeyed. Athos called Grimaud, pointed to a large
basket which lay in a corner, and made a sign to him to wrap
the viands up in the napkins.
Grimaud understood that it was to be a breakfast on the
grass, took the basket, packed up the viands, added the
bottles, and then took the basket on his arm.
"But where are you going to eat my breakfast?" asked the
host.
"What matter, if you are paid for it?" said Athos, and he
threw two pistoles majestically on the table.
"Shall I give you the change, my officer?" said the host.
"No, only add two bottles of champagne, and the difference
will be for the napkins."
The host had not quite so good a bargain as he at first
hoped for, but he made amends by slipping in two bottles of
Anjou wine instead of two bottles of champagne.
"Monsieur de Busigny," said Athos, "will you be so kind as
to set your watch with mine, or permit me to regulate mine
by yours?"
"Which you please, monsieur!" said the light-horseman,
drawing from his fob a very handsome watch, studded with
diamonds; "half past seven."
"Thirty-five minutes after seven," said Athos, "by which you
perceive I am five minutes faster than you."
And bowing to all the astonished persons present, the young
men took the road to the bastion St. Gervais, followed by
Grimaud, who carried the basket, ignorant of where he was
going but in the passive obedience which Athos had taught
him not even thinking of asking.
As long as they were within the circle of the camp, the four
friends did not exchange one word; besides, they were
followed by the curious, who, hearing of the wager, were
anxious to know how they would come out of it. But when
once they passed the line of circumvallation and found
themselves in the open plain, D''Artagnan, who was completely
ignorant of what was going forward, thought it was time to
demand an explanation.
"And now, my dear Athos," said he, "do me the kindness to
tell me where we are going?"
"Why, you see plainly enough we are going to the bastion."
"But what are we going to do there?"
"You know well that we go to breakfast there."
"But why did we not breakfast at the Parpaillot?"
"Because we have very important matters to communicate to
one another, and it was impossible to talk five minutes in
that inn without being annoyed by all those importunate
fellows, who keep coming in, saluting you, and addressing
you. Here at least," said Athos, pointing to the bastion,
"they will not come and disturb us."
"It appears to me," said D''Artagnan, with that prudence
which allied itself in him so naturally with excessive
bravery, "that we could have found some retired place on the
downs or the seashore."
"Where we should have been seen all four conferring
together, so that at the end of a quarter of an hour the
cardinal would have been informed by his spies that we were
holding a council."
"Yes," said Aramis, "Athos is right: Animadvertuntur in
desertis."
"A desert would not have been amiss," said Porthos; "but it
behooved us to find it."
"There is no desert where a bird cannot pass over one''s
head, where a fish cannot leap out of the water, where a
rabbit cannot come out of its burrow, and I believe that
bird, fish, and rabbit each becomes a spy of the cardinal.
Better, then, pursue our enterprise; from which, besides, we
cannot retreat without shame. We have made a wager--a wager
which could not have been foreseen, and of which I defy
anyone to divine the true cause. We are going, in order to
win it, to remain an hour in the bastion. Either we shall
be attacked, or not. If we are not, we shall have all the
time to talk, and nobody will hear us--for I guarantee the
walls of the bastion have no ears; if we are, we will talk
of our affairs just the same. Moreover, in defending
ourselves, we shall cover ourselves with glory. You see
that everything is to our advantage."
"Yes," said D''Artagnan; "but we shall indubitably attract a
ball."
"Well, my dear," replied Athos, "you know well that the
balls most to be dreaded are not from the enemy."
"But for such an expe***ion we surely ought to have brought
our muskets."
"You are stupid, friend Porthos. Why should we load
ourselves with a useless burden?"
"I don''t find a good musket, twelve cartridges, and a powder
flask very useless in the face of an enemy."
"Well," replied Athos, "have you not heard what D''Artagnan
said?"
"What did he say?" demanded Porthos.
"D''Artagnan said that in the attack of last night eight or
ten Frenchmen were killed, and as many Rochellais."
"What then?"
"The bodies were not plundered, were they? It appears the
conquerors had something else to do."
"Well?"
"Well, we shall find their muskets, their cartridges, and
their flasks; and instead of four musketoons and twelve
balls, we shall have fifteen guns and a hundred charges to
fire."
"Oh, Athos!" said Aramis, "truly you are a great man."
Porthos nodded in sign of agreement. D''Artagnan alone did
not seem convinced.
Grimaud no doubt shared the misgivings of the young man, for
seeing that they continued to advance toward the
bastion--something he had till then doubted--he pulled his
master by the skirt of his coat.
"Where are we going?" asked he, by a gesture.
Athos pointed to the bastion.
"But," said Grimaud, in the same silent dialect, "we shall
leave our skins there."
Athos raised his eyes and his finger toward heaven.
Grimaud put his basket on the ground and sat down with a
shake of the head.
Athos took a pistol from his belt, looked to see if it was
properly primed, ****ed it, and placed the muzzle close to
Grimaud''s ear.
Grimaud was on his legs again as if by a spring. Athos then
made him a sign to take up his basket and to walk on first.
Grimaud obeyed. All that Grimaud gained by this momentary
pantomime was to pass from the rear guard to the vanguard.
Arrived at the bastion, the four friends turned round.
More than three hundred soldiers of all kinds were assembled
at the gate of the camp; and in a separate group might be
distinguished M. de Busigny, the dragoon, the Swiss, and the
fourth bettor.
Athos took off his hat, placed it on the end of his sword,
and waved it in the air.
All the spectators returned him his salute, accompanying
this courtesy with a loud hurrah which was audible to the
four; after which all four disappeared in the bastion,
whither Grimaud had preceded them.

47 THE COUNCIL OF THE MUSKETEERS
As Athos had foreseen, the bastion was only occupied by a
dozen corpses, French and Rochellais.
"Gentlemen," said Athos, who had assumed the command of the
expe***ion, "while Grimaud spreads the table, let us begin
by collecting the guns and cartridges together. We can talk
while performing that necessary task. These gentlemen,"
added he, pointing to the bodies, "cannot hear us."
"But we could throw them into the ***ch," said Porthos,
"after having assured ourselves they have nothing in their
pockets."
"Yes," said Athos, "that''s Grimaud''s business."
"Well, then," cried D''Artagnan, "pray let Grimaud search
them and throw them over the walls."
"Heaven forfend!" said Athos; "they may serve us."
"These bodies serve us?" said Porthos. "You are mad, dear
friend."
"Judge not rashly, say the gospel and the cardinal," replied
Athos. "How many guns, gentlemen?"
"Twelve," replied Aramis.
"How many shots?"
"A hundred."
"That''s quite as many as we shall want. Let us load the
guns."
The four Musketeers went to work; and as they were loading
the last musket Grimaud announced that the breakfast was
ready.
Athos replied, always by gestures, that that was well, and
indicated to Grimaud, by pointing to a turret that resembled
a pepper caster, that he was to stand as sentinel. Only, to
alleviate the tediousness of the duty, Athos allowed him to
take a loaf, two cutlets, and a bottle of wine.
"And now to table," said Athos.
The four friends seated themselves on the ground with their
legs crossed like Turks, or even tailors.
"And now," said D''Artagnan, "as there is no longer any fear
of being overheard, I hope you are going to let me into your
secret."
"I hope at the same time to procure you amusement and glory,
gentlemen," said Athos. "I have induced you to take a
charming promenade; here is a delicious breakfast; and
yonder are five hundred persons, as you may see through the
loopholes, taking us for heroes or madmen--two classes of
imbeciles greatly resembling each other."
"But the secret!" said D''Artagnan.
"The secret is," said Athos, "that I saw Milady last night."
D''Artagnan was lifting a glass to his lips; but at the name
of Milady, his hand trembled so, that he was obliged to put
the glass on the ground again for fear of spilling the
contents."
"You saw your wi--"
"Hush!" interrupted Athos. "You forget, my dear, you forget
that these gentlemen are not initiated into my family
affairs like yourself. I have seen Milady."
"Where?" demanded D''Artagnan.
"Within two leagues of this place, at the inn of the Red
Dovecot."
"In that case I am lost," said D''Artagnan.
"Not so bad yet," replied Athos; "for by this time she must
have quit the shores of France."
D''Artagnan breathed again.
"But after all," asked Porthos, "who is Milady?"
"A charming woman!" said Athos, sipping a glass of sparkling
wine. "Villainous host!" cried he, "he has given us Anjou
wine instead of champagne, and fancies we know no better!
Yes," continued he, "a charming woman, who entertained kind
views toward our friend D''Artagnan, who, on his part, has
given her some offense for which she tried to revenge
herself a month ago by having him killed by two musket
shots, a week ago by trying to poison him, and yesterday by
demanding his head of the cardinal."
"What! by demanding my head of the cardinal?" cried
D''Artagnan, pale with terror.
"Yes, that is true as the Gospel," said Porthos; "I heard
her with my own ears."
"I also," said Aramis.
"Then," said D''Artagnan, letting his arm fall with
discouragement, "it is useless to struggle longer. I may as
well blow my brains out, and all will be over."
"That''s the last folly to be committed," said Athos, "seeing
it is the only one for which there is no remedy."
"But I can never escape," said D''Artagnan, "with such
enemies. First, my stranger of Meung; then De Wardes, to
whom I have given three sword wounds; next Milady, whose
secret I have discovered; finally, the cardinal, whose
vengeance I have balked."
"Well," said Athos, "that only makes four; and we are
four-- one for one. Pardieu! if we may believe the signs
Grimaud is making, we are about to have to do with a very
different number of people. What is it, Grimaud?
Considering the gravity of the occasion, I permit you to
speak, my friend; but be laconic, I beg. What do you see?"
"A troop."
"Of how many persons?"
"Twenty men."
"What sort of men?"
"Sixteen pioneers, four soldiers."
"How far distant?"
"Five hundred paces."
"Good! We have just time to finish this fowl and to drink
one glass of wine to your health, D''Artagnan."
"To your health!" repeated Porthos and Aramis.
"Well, then, to my health! although I am very much afraid
that your good wishes will not be of great service to me."
"Bah!" said Athos, "God is great, as say the followers of
Mohammed, and the future is in his hands."
Then, swallowing the contents of his glass, which he put
down close to him, Athos arose carelessly, took the musket
next to him, and drew near to one of the loopholes.
Porthos, Aramis and D''Artagnan followed his example. As to
Grimaud, he received orders to place himself behind the four
friends in order to reload their weapons.
"Pardieu!" said Athos, "it was hardly worth while to
distribute ourselves for twenty fellows armed with pickaxes,
mattocks, and shovels. Grimaud had only to make them a sign
to go away, and I am convinced they would have left us in
peace."
"I doubt that," replied D''Artagnan, "for they are advancing
very resolutely. Besides, in ad***ion to the pioneers,
there are four soldiers and a brigadier, armed with
muskets."
"That''s because they don''t see us," said Athos.
"My faith," said Aramis, "I must confess I feel a great
repugnance to fire on these poor devils of civilians."
"He is a bad priest," said Porthos, "who has pity for
heretics."
"In truth," said Athos, "Aramis is right. I will warn
them."
"What the devil are you going to do?" cried D''Artagnan, "you
will be shot."
But Athos heeded not his advice. Mounting on the breach,
with his musket in one hand and his hat in the other, he
said, bowing courteously and addressing the soldiers and the
pioneers, who, astonished at this apparition, stopped fifty
paces from the bastion: "Gentlemen, a few friends and
myself are about to breakfast in this bastion. Now, you
know nothing is more disagreeable than being disturbed when
one is at breakfast. We request you, then, if you really
have business here, to wait till we have finished or repast,
or to come again a short time hence, unless; unless, which
would be far better, you form the salutary resolution to
quit the side of the rebels, and come and drink with us to
the health of the King of France."
"Take care, Athos!" cried D''Artagnan; "don''t you see they
are aiming?"
"Yes, yes," said Athos; "but they are only civilians--very
bad marksmen, who will be sure not to hit me."
In fact, at the same instant four shots were fired, and the
balls were flattened against the wall around Athos, but not
one touched him.
Four shots replied to them almost instantaneously, but much
better aimed than those of the aggressors; three soldiers
fell dead, and one of the pioneers was wounded.
"Grimaud," said Athos, still on the breach, "another
musket!"
Grimaud immediately obeyed. On their part, the three
friends had reloaded their arms; a second discharge followed
the first. The brigadier and two pioneers fell dead; the
rest of the troop took to flight.
"Now, gentlemen, a sortie!" cried Athos.
And the four friends rushed out of the fort, gained the
field of battle, picked up the four muskets of the privates
and the half-pike of the brigadier, and convinced that the
fugitives would not stop till they reached the city, turned
again toward the bastion, bearing with them the trophies of
their victory.
"Reload the muskets, Grimaud," said Athos, "and we,
gentlemen, will go on with our breakfast, and resume our
conversation. Where were we?"
"I recollect you were saying," said D''Artagnan, "that after
having demanded my head of the cardinal, Milady had quit the
shores of France. Whither goes she?" added he, strongly
interested in the route Milady followed.
"She goes into England," said Athos.
"With what view?"
"With the view of assassinating, or causing to be
assassinated, the Duke of Buckingham."
D''Artagnan uttered an exclamation of surprise and
indignation.
"But this is infamous!" cried he.
"As to that," said Athos, "I beg you to believe that I care
very little about it. Now you have done, Grimaud, take our
brigadier''s half-pike, tie a napkin to it, and plant it on
top of our bastion, that these rebels of Rochellais may see
that they have to deal with brave and loyal soldiers of the
king."
Grimaud obeyed without replying. An instant afterward, the
white flag was floating over the heads of the four friends.
A thunder of applause saluted its appearance; half the camp
was at the barrier.
"How?" replied D''Artagnan, "you care little if she kills
Buckingham or causes him to be killed? But the duke is our
friend."
"The duke is English; the duke fights against us. Let her
do what she likes with the duke; I care no more about him
than an empty bottle." And Athos threw fifteen paces from
him an empty bottle from which he had poured the last drop
into his glass.
"A moment," said D''Artagnan. "I will not abandon Buckingham
thus. He gave us some very fine horses."
"And moreover, very handsome saddles," said Porthos, who at
the moment wore on his cloak the lace of his own.
"Besides," said Aramis, "God desires the conversion and not
the death of a sinner."
"Amen!" said Athos, "and we will return to that subject
later, if such be your pleasure; but what for the moment
engaged my attention most earnestly, and I am sure you will
understand me, D''Artagnan, was the getting from this woman a
kind of carte blanche which she had extorted from the
cardinal, and by means of which she could with impunity get
rid of you and perhaps of us."
"But this creature must be a demon!" said Porthos, holding
out his plate to Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl.
"And this carte blanche," said D''Artagnan, "this carte
blanche, does it remain in her hands?"
"No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble,
for if I did I should tell a lie."
"My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times
I am indebted to you for my life."
"Then it was to go to her that you left us?" said Aramis.
"Exactly."
"And you have that letter of the cardinal?" said D''Artagnan.
"Here it is," said Athos; and he took the invaluable paper
from the pocket of his uniform. D''Artagnan unfolded it with
one hand, whose trembling he did not even attempt to
conceal, to read:
Dec. 3, 1627
It is by more order and for the good of the state that the
bearer of this has done what he has done.
"Richelieu"
"In fact," said Aramis, "it is an absolution according to rule."
"That paper must be torn to pieces," said D''Artagnan, who
fancied he read in it his sentence of death.
"On the contrary," said Athos, "it must be preserved
carefully. I would not give up this paper if covered with
as many gold pieces."
"And what will she do now?" asked the young man.
"Why," replied Athos, carelessly, "she is probably going to
write to the cardinal that a damned Musketeer, named Athos,
has taken her safe-conduct from her by force; she will
advise him in the same letter to get rid of his two friends,
Aramis and Porthos, at the same time. The cardinal will
remember that these are the same men who have often crossed
his path; and then some fine morning he will arrest
D''Artagnan, and for fear he should feel lonely, he will send
us to keep him company in the Bastille."
"Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear,"
said Porthos.
"I do not jest," said Athos.
"Do you know," said Porthos, "that to twist that damned
Milady''s neck would be a smaller sin than to twist those of
these poor devils of Huguenots, who have committed no other
crime than singing in French the psalms we sing in Latin?"
"What says the abbe?" asked Athos, quietly.
"I say I am entirely of Porthos''s opinion," replied Aramis.
"And I, too," said D''Artagnan.
"Fortunately, she is far off," said Porthos, "for I confess
she would worry me if she were here."
"She worries me in England as well as in France," said
Athos.
"She worries me everywhere," said D''Artagnan.
"But when you held her in your power, why did you not drown
her, strangle her, hang her?" said Porthos. "It is only the
dead who do not return."
"You think so, Porthos?" replied the Musketeer, with a sad
smile which D''Artagnan alone understood.
"I have an idea," said D''Artagnan.
"What is it?" said the Musketeers.
"To arms!" cried Grimaud.
The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets.
This time a small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty
to twenty-five men; but they were not pioneers, they were
soldiers of the garrison.
"Shall we return to the camp?" said Porthos. "I don''t think
the sides are equal."
"Impossible, for three reasons," replied Athos. "The first,
that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we
still have some very important things to say; and the third,
that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour."
"Well, then," said Aramis, "we must form a plan of battle."
"That''s very simple," replied Athos. "As soon as the enemy
are within musket shot, we must fire upon them. If they
continue to advance, we must fire again. We must fire as
long as we have loaded guns. If those who remain of the
troop persist in coming to the assault, we will allow the
besiegers to get as far as the ***ch, and then we will push
down upon their heads that strip of wall which keeps its
perpendicular by a miracle."
"Bravo!" cried Porthos. "Decidedly, Athos, you were born to
be a general, and the cardinal, who fancies himself a great
soldier, is nothing beside you."
"Gentlemen," said Athos, "no divided attention, I beg; let
each one pick out his man."
"I cover mine," said D''Artagnan.
"And I mine," said Porthos.
"And I mine," said Aramis.
"Fire, then," said Athos.
The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell.
The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at
charging pace.
Then the shots were repeated without regularity, but always
aimed with the same accuracy. Nevertheless, as if they had
been aware of the numerical weakness of the friends, the
Rochellais continued to advance in quick time.
With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march
of those who remained was not slackened.
Arrived at the foot of the bastion, there were still more
than a dozen of the enemy. A last discharge welcomed them,
but did not stop them; they jumped into the ***ch, and
prepared to scale the breach.
"Now, my friends," said Athos, "finish them at a blow. To
the wall; to the wall!"
And the four friends, seconded by Grimaud, pushed with the
barrels of their muskets an enormous sheet of the wall,
which bent as if pushed by the wind, and detaching itself
from its base, fell with a horrible crash into the ***ch.
Then a fearful crash was heard; a cloud of dust mounted
toward the sky--and all was over!
"Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the
last?" said Athos.
"My faith, it appears so!" said D''Artagnan.
"No," cried Porthos; "there go three or four, limping away."
In fact, three or four of these unfortunate men, covered
with dirt and blood, fled along the hollow way, and at
length regained the city. These were all who were left of
the little troop.
Athos looked at his watch.
"Gentlemen," said he, "we have been here an hour, and our
wager is won; but we will be fair players. Besides,
D''Artagnan has not told us his idea yet."
And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself
before the remains of the breakfast.
"My idea?" said D''Artagnan.
"Yes; you said you had an idea," said Athos.
"Oh, I remember," said D''Artagnan. "Well, I will go to
England a second time; I will go and find Buckingham."
"You shall not do that, D''Artagnan," said Athos, coolly.
"And why not? Have I not been there once?"
"Yes; but at that period we were not at war. At that period
Buckingham was an ally, and not an enemy. What you would
now do amounts to treason."
D''Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was
silent.
"But," said Porthos, "I think I have an idea, in my turn."
"Silence for Monsieur Porthos''s idea!" said Aramis.
"I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Treville, on
some pretext or other which you must invent; I am not very
clever at pretexts. Milady does not know me; I will get
access to her without her suspecting me, and when I catch my
beauty, I will strangle her."
"Well," replied Athos, "I am not far from approving the idea
of Monsieur Porthos."
"For shame!" said Aramis. "Kill a woman? No, listen to me;
I have the true idea."
"Let us see your idea, Aramis," said Athos, who felt much
deference for the young Musketeer."
"We must inform the queen."
"Ah, my faith, yes!" said Porthos and D''Artagnan, at the
same time; "we are coming nearer to it now."
"Inform the queen!" said Athos; "and how? Have we relations
with the court? Could we send anyone to Paris without its
being known in the camp? From here to Paris it is a hundred
and forty leagues; before our letter was at Angers we should
be in a dungeon."
"As to remitting a letter with safety to her Majesty," said
Aramis, coloring, "I will take that upon myself. I know a
clever person at Tours--"
Aramis stopped on seeing Athos smile.
"Well, do you not adopt this means, Athos?" said D''Artagnan.
"I do not reject it altogether," said Athos; "but I wish to
remind Aramis that he cannot quit the camp, and that nobody
but one of ourselves is trustworthy; that two hours after
the messenger has set out, all the Capuchins, all the
police, all the black caps of the cardinal, will know your
letter by heart, and you and your clever person will be
arrested."
"Without reckoning," objected Porthos, "that the queen would
save Monsieur de Buckingham, but would take no heed of us."
"Gentlemen," said D''Artagnan, "what Porthos says is full of
sense."
"Ah, ah! but what''s going on in the city yonder?" said
Athos.
"They are beating the general alarm."
The four friends listened, and the sound of the drum plainly
reached them.
"You see, they are going to send a whole regiment against
us," said Athos.
"You don''t think of holding out against a whole regiment, do
you?" said Porthos.
"Why not?" said Musketeer. "I feel myself quite in a humor
for it; and I would hold out before an army if we had taken
the precaution to bring a dozen more bottles of wine."
"Upon my word, the drum draws near," said D''Artagnan.
"Let it come," said Athos. "It is a quarter of an hour''s
journey from here to the city, consequently a quarter of an
hour''s journey from the city to hither. That is more than
time enough for us to devise a plan. If we go from this
place we shall never find another so suitable. Ah, stop! I
have it, gentlemen; the right idea has just occurred to me."
"Tell us."
"Allow me to give Grimaud some indispensable orders."
Athos made a sign for his lackey to approach.
"Grimaud," said Athos, pointing to the bodies which lay
under the wall of the bastion, "take those gentlemen, set
them up against the wall, put their hats upon their heads,
and their guns in their hands."
"Oh, the great man!" cried D''Artagnan. "I comprehend now."
"You comprehend?" said Porthos.
"And do you comprehend, Grimaud?" said Aramis.
Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative.
"That''s all that is necessary," said Athos; "now for my
idea."
"I should like, however, to comprehend," said Porthos.
"That is useless."
"Yes, yes! Athos''s idea!" cried Aramis and D''Artagnan, at
the same time.
"This Milady, this woman, this creature, this demon, has a
brother-in-law, as I think you told me, D''Artagnan?"
"Yes, I know him very well; and I also believe that he has
not a very warm affection for his sister-in-law."
"There is no harm in that. If he detested her, it would be
all the better," replied Athos.
"In that case we are as well off as we wish."
"And yet," said Porthos, "I would like to know what Grimaud
is about."
"Silence, Porthos!" said Aramis.
"What is her brother-in-law''s name?"
"Lord de Winter."
"Where is he now?"
"He returned to London at the first sound of war."
"Well, there''s just the man we want," said Athos. "It is he
whom we must warm. We will have him informed that his
sister-in-law is on the point of having someone
assassinated, and beg him not to lose sight of her. There
is in London, I hope, some establishment like that of the
Magdalens, or of the Repentant Daughters. He must place his
sister in one of these, and we shall be in peace."
"Yes," said D''Artagnan, "till she comes out."
"Ah, my faith!" said Athos, "you require too much,
D''Artagnan. I have given you all I have, and I beg leave to
tell you that this is the bottom of my sack."
"But I think it would be still better," said Aramis, "to
inform the queen and Lord de Winter at the same time."
"Yes; but who is to carry the letter to Tours, and who to
London?"
"I answer for Bazin," said Aramis.
"And I for Planchet," said D''Artagnan.
"Ay," said Porthos, "if we cannot leave the camp, our
lackeys may."
"To be sure they may; and this very day we will write the
letters," said Aramis. "Give the lackeys money, and they
will start."
"We will give them money?" replied Athos. "Have you any
money?"
The four friends looked at one another, and a cloud came
over the brows which but lately had been so cheerful.
"Look out!" cried D''Artagnan, "I see black points and red
points moving yonder. Why did you talk of a regiment,
Athos? It is a veritable army!"
"My faith, yes," said Athos; "there they are. See the
sneaks come, without drum or trumpet. Ah, ah! have you
finished, Grimaud?"
Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative, and pointed to a
dozen bodies which he had set up in the most picturesque
attitudes. Some carried arms, others seemed to be taking
aim, and the remainder appeared merely to be sword in hand.
"Bravo!" said Athos; "that does honor to your imagination."
"All very well," said Porthos, "but I should like to
understand."
"Let us decamp first, and you will understand afterward."
"A moment, gentlemen, a moment; give Grimaud time to clear
away the breakfast."
"Ah, ah!" said Aramis, "the black points and the red points
are visibly enlarging. I am of D''Artagnan''s opinion; we
have no time to lose in regaining our camp."
"My faith," said Athos, "I have nothing to say against a
retreat. We bet upon one hour, and we have stayed an hour
and a half. Nothing can be said; let us be off, gentlemen,
let us be off!"
Grimaud was already ahead, with the basket and the dessert.
The four friends followed, ten paces behind him.
"What the devil shall we do now, gentlemen?" cried Athos.
"Have you forgotten anything?" said Aramis.
"The white flag, morbleu! We must not leave a flag in the
hands of the enemy, even if that flag be but a napkin."
And Athos ran back to the bastion, mounted the platform, and
bore off the flag; but as the Rochellais had arrived within
musket range, they opened a terrible fire upon this man, who
appeared to expose himself for pleasure''s sake.
But Athos might be said to bear a charmed life. The balls
passed and whistled all around him; not one struck him.
Athos waved his flag, turning his back on the guards of the
city, and saluting those of the camp. On both sides loud
cries arose--on the one side cries of anger, on the other
cries of enthusiasm.
A second discharge followed the first, and three balls, by
passing through it, made the napkin really a flag. "Cries
were heard from the camp, "Come down! come down!"
Athos came down; his friends, who anxiously awaited him, saw
him returned with joy.
"Come along, Athos, come along!" cried D''Artagnan; "now we
have found everything except money, it would be stupid to be
killed."
But Athos continued to march majestically, whatever remarks
his companions made; and they, finding their remarks
useless, regulated their pace by his.
Grimaud and his basket were far in advance, out of the range
of the balls.
At the end of an instant they heard a furious fusillade.
"What''s that?" asked Porthos, "what are they firing at now?
I hear no balls whistle, and I see nobody!"
"They are firing at the corpses," replied Athos.
"But the dead cannot return their fire."
"Certainly not! They will then fancy it is an ambuscade,
they will deliberate; and by the time they have found out
the pleasantry, we shall be out of the range of their balls.
That renders it useless to get a pleurisy by too much
haste."
"Oh, I comprehend now," said the astonished Porthos.
"That''s lucky," said Athos, shrugging his shoulders.
On their part, the French, on seeing the four friends return
at such a step, uttered cries of enthusiasm.
At length a fresh discharge was heard, and this time the
balls came rattling among the stones around the four
friends, and whistling sharply in their ears. The
Rochellais had at last taken possession of the bastion.
"These Rochellais are bungling fellows," said Athos; "how
many have we killed of them--a dozen?"
"Or fifteen."
"How many did we crush under the wall?"
"Eight or ten."
"And in exchange for all that not even a scratch! Ah, but
what is the matter with your hand, D''Artagnan? It bleeds,
seemingly."
"Oh, it''s nothing," said D''Artagnan.
"A spent ball?"
"Not even that."
"What is it, then?"
We have said that Athos loved D''Artagnan like a child, and
this somber and inflexible personage felt the anxiety of a
parent for the young man.
"Only grazed a little," replied D''Artagnan; "my fingers were
caught between two stones--that of the wall and that of my
ring--and the skin was broken."
"That comes of wearing diamonds, my master," said Athos,
disdainfully.
"Ah, to be sure," cried Porthos, "there is a diamond. Why
the devil, then, do we plague ourselves about money, when
there is a diamond?"
"Stop a bit!" said Aramis.
"Well thought of, Porthos; this time you have an idea."
"Undoubtedly," said Porthos, drawing himself up at Athos''s
compliment; "as there is a diamond, let us sell it."
"But," said D''Artagnan, "it is the queen''s diamond."
"The stronger reason why it should be sold," replied Athos.
The queen saving Monsieur de Buckingham, her lover; nothing
more just. The queen saving us, her friends; nothing more
moral. Let us sell the diamond. What says Monsieur the
Abbe? I don''t ask Porthos; his opinion has been given."
"Why, I think," said Aramis, blushing as usual, "that his
ring not coming from a mistress, and consequently not being
a love token, D''Artagnan may sell it."
"My dear Aramis, you speak like theology personified. Your
advice, then, is--"
"To sell the diamond," replied Aramis.
"Well, then," said D''Artagnan, gaily, "let us sell the
diamond, and say no more about it."
The fusillade continued; but the four friends were out of
reach, and the Rochellais only fired to appease their
consciences.
"My faith, it was time that idea came into Porthos''s head.
Here we are at the camp; therefore, gentlemen, not a word
more of this affair. We are observed; they are coming to
meet us. We shall be carried in triumph."
In fact, as we have said, the whole camp was in motion.
More than two thousand persons had assisted, as at a
spectacle, in this fortunate but wild undertaking of the
four friends--and undertaking of which they were far from
suspecting the real motive. Nothing was heard but cried of
"Live the Musketeers! Live the Guards!" M. de Busigny was
the first to come and shake Athos by the hand, and
acknowledge that the wager was lost. The dragoon and the
Swiss followed him, and all their comrades followed the
dragoon and the Swiss. There was nothing but felicitations,
pressures of the hand, and embraces; there was no end to the
inextinguishable laughter at the Rochellais. The tumult at
length became so great that the cardinal fancied there must
be some riot, and sent La Houdiniere, his captain of the
Guards, to inquire what was going on.
The affair was described to the messenger with all the
effervescence of enthusiasm.
"Well?" asked the cardinal, on seeing La Houdiniere return.
"Well, monseigneur," replied the latter, "three Musketeers
and a Guardsman laid a wager with Monsieur de Busigny that
they would go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais; and
while breakfasting they held it for two hours against the
enemy, and have killed I don''t know how many Rochellais."
"Did you inquire the names of those three Musketeers?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"What are their names?"
"Messieurs Athos, Porthos, and Aramis."
"Still my three brave fellows!" murmured the cardinal. "And
the Guardsman?"
"D''Artagnan."
"Still my young scapegrace. Positively, these four men must
be on my side."
The same evening the cardinal spoke to M. de Treville of the
exploit of the morning, which was the talk of the whole
camp. M. de Treville, who had received the account of the
adventure from the mouths of the heroes of it, related it in
all its details to his Eminence, not forgetting the episode
of the napkin.
"That''s well, Monsieur de Treville," said the cardinal;
"pray let that napkin be sent to me. I will have three
fleur-de-lis embroidered on it in gold, and will give it to
your company as a standard."
"Monseigneur," said M. de Treville, "that will be unjust to
the Guardsmen. Monsieur d''Artagnan is not with me; he
serves under Monsieur Dessessart."
"Well, then, take him," said the cardinal; "when four men
are so much attached to one another, it is only fair that
they should serve in the same company."
That same evening M. de Treville announced this good news to
the three Musketeers and D''Artagnan, inviting all four to
breakfast with him next morning.
D''Artagnan refused; but thinking the opportunity a good one,
dream of his life had been to become a Musketeer. The three
friends were likewise greatly delighted.
"My faith," said D''Artagnan to Athos, "you had a triumphant
idea! As you said, we have acquired glory, and were enabled
to carry on a conversation of the highest importance."
"Which we can resume now without anybody suspecting us, for,
with the help of God, we shall henceforth pass for
cardinalists."
That evening D''Artagnan went to present his respects to M.
Dessessart, and inform him of his promotion.
M. Dessessart, who esteemed D''Artagnan, made him offers of
help, as this change would entail expenses for equipment.
D''Artagnan was beside himself with joy. We know that the he
begged him to have the diamond he put into his hand valued,
as he wished to turn it into money.
The next day, M. Dessessart''s valet came to D''Artagnan''s
lodging, and gave him a bag containing seven thousand
livres.
This was the price of the queen''s diamond.

48 A FAMILY AFFAIR
Athos had invented the phrase, family affair. A family
affair was not subject to the investigation of the cardinal;
a family affair concerned nobody. People might employ
themselves in a family affair before all the world.
Therefore Athos had invented the phrase, family affair.
Aramis had discovered the idea, the lackeys.
Porthos had discovered the means, the diamond.
D''Artagnan alone had discovered nothing--he, ordinarily the
most inventive of the four; but it must be also said that
the very name of Milady paralyzed him.
Ah! no, we were mistaken; he had discovered a purchaser for
his diamond.
The breakfast at M. de Treville''s was as gay and cheerful as
possible. D''Artagnan already wore his uniform--for being
nearly of the same size as Aramis, and as Aramis was so
liberally paid by the publisher who purchased his poem as to
allow him to buy everything double, he sold his friend a
complete outfit.
D''Artagnan would have been at the height of his wishes if he
had not constantly seen Milady like a dark cloud hovering in
the horizon.
After breakfast, it was agreed that they should meet again
in the evening at Athos''s lodging, and there finish their
plans.
D''Artagnan passed the day in exhibiting his Musketeer''s
uniform in every street of the camp.
In the evening, at the appointed hour, the four friends met.
There only remained three things to decide--what they
should write to Milady''s brother; what they should write to
the clever person at Tours; and which should be the lackeys
to carry the letters.
Everyone offered his own. Athos talked of the discretion of
Grimaud, who never spoke a word but when his master unlocked
his mouth. Porthos boasted of the strength of Mousqueton,
who was big enough to thrash four men of ordinary size.
Aramis, confiding in the address of Bazin, made a pompous
eulogium on his candidate. Finally, D''Artagnan had entire
faith in the bravery of Planchet, and reminded them of the
manner in which he had conducted himself in the ticklish
affair of Boulogne.
These four virtues disputed the prize for a length of time,
and gave birth to magnificent speeches which we do not
repeat here for fear they should be deemed too long.
"Unfortunately," said Athos, "he whom we send must possess
in himself alone the four qualities united."
"But where is such a lackey to be found?"
"Not to be found!" cried Athos. "I know it well, so take
Grimaud."
"Take Mousqueton."
"Take Bazin."
"Take Planchet. Planchet is brave and shrewd; they are two
qualities out of the four."
"Gentlemen," said Aramis, "the principal question is not to
know which of our four lackeys is the most discreet, the
most strong, the most clever, or the most brave; the
principal thing is to know which loves money the best."
"What Aramis says is very sensible," replied Athos; "we must
speculate upon the faults of people, and not upon their
virtues. Monsieur Abbe, you are a great moralist."
"Doubtless," said Aramis, "for we not only require to be
well served in order *****cceed, but moreover, not to fail;
for in case of failure, heads are in question, not for our
lackeys--"
"Speak lower, Aramis," said Athos.
"That''s wise--not for the lackeys," resumed Aramis, "but for
the master--for the masters, we may say. Are our lackeys
sufficiently devoted to us to risk their lives for us? No."
"My faith," said D''Artagnan. "I would almost answer for
Planchet."
"Well, my dear friend, add to his natural devotedness a good
sum of money, and then, instead of answering for him once,
answer for him twice."
"Why, good God! you will be deceived just the same," said
Athos, who was an optimist when things were concerned, and a
pessimist when men were in question. "They will promise
everything for the sake of the money, and on the road fear
will prevent them from acting. Once taken, they will be
pressed; when pressed, they will confess everything. What
the devil! we are not children. To reach England"--Athos
lowered his voice--"all France, covered with spies and
creatures of the cardinal, must be crossed. A passport for
embarkation must be obtained; and the party must be
acquainted with English in order to ask the way to London.
Really, I think the thing very difficult."
"Not at all," cried D''Artagnan, who was anxious the matter
should be accomplished; "on the contrary, I think it very
easy. It would be, no doubt, parbleu, if we write to Lord
de Winter about affairs of vast importance, of the horrors
of the cardinal--"
"Speak lower!" said Athos.
"--of intrigues and secrets of state," continued D''Artagnan,
complying with the recommendation. "there can be no doubt
we would all be broken on the wheel; but for God''s sake, do
not forget, as you yourself said, Athos, that we only write
to him concerning a family affair; that we only write to him
to entreat that as soon as Milady arrives in London he will
put it out of her power to injure us. I will write to him,
then, nearly in these terms."
"Let us see," said Athos, assuming in advance a critical
look.
"Monsieur and dear friend--"
"Ah, yes! Dear friend to an Englishman," interrupted Athos;
"well commenced! Bravo, D''Artagnan! Only with that word
you would be quartered instead of being broken on the
wheel."
"Well, perhaps. I will say, then, Monsieur, quite short."
"You may even say, My Lord," replied Athos, who stickled for
propriety.
"My Lord, do you remember the little goat pasture of the
Luxembourg?"
"Good, the Luxembourg! One might believe this is an
allusion to the queen-mother! That''s ingenious," said
Athos.
"Well, then, we will put simply, My Lord, do you remember a
certain little enclosure where your life was spared?"
"My dear D''Artagnan, you will never make anything but a very
bad secretary. Where your life was spared! For shame!
that''s unworthy. A man of spirit is not to be reminded of
such services. A benefit reproached is an offense
committed."
"The devil!" said D''Artagnan, "you are insupportable. If
the letter must be written under your censure, my faith, I
renounce the task."
"And you will do right. Handle the musket and the sword, my
dear fellow. You will come off splendidly at those two
exercises; but pass the pen over to Monsieur Abbe. That''s
his province."
"Ay, ay!" said Porthos; "pass the pen to Aramis, who writes
theses in Latin."
"Well, so be it," said D''Artagnan. "Draw up this note for
us, Aramis; but by our Holy Father the Pope, cut it short,
for I shall prune you in my turn, I warn you."
"I ask no better," said Aramis, with that ingenious air of
confidence which every poet has in himself; "but let me be
properly acquainted with the subject. I have heard here and
there that this sister-in-law was a hussy. I have obtained
proof of it by listening to her conversation with the
cardinal."
"Lower! sacre bleu!" said Athos.
"But," continued Aramis, "the details escape me."
"And me also," said Porthos.
D''Artagnan and Athos looked at each other for some time in
silence. At length Athos, after serious reflection and
becoming more pale than usual, made a sign of assent to
D''Artagnan, who by it understood he was at liberty to speak.
"Well, this is what you have to say," said D''Artagnan: "My
Lord, your sister-in-law is an infamous woman, who wished to
have you killed that she might inherit your wealth; but she
could not marry your brother, being already married in
France, and having been--" D''Artagnan stopped, as if
seeking for the word, and looked at Athos.
"Repudiated by her husband," said Athos.
"Because she had been branded," continued D''Artagnan.
"Bah!" cried Porthos. "Impossible! What do you say--that
she wanted to have her brother-in-law killed?"
"Yes."
"She was married?" asked Aramis.
"Yes."
"And her husband found out that she had a fleur-de-lis on
her shoulder?" cried Porthos.
"Yes."
These three yeses had been pronounced by Athos, each with a
sadder intonation.
"And who has seen this fleur-de-lis?" inquired Aramis.
"D''Artagnan and I. Or rather, to observe the chronological
order, I and D''Artagnan," replied Athos.
"And does the husband of this frightful creature still
live?" said Aramis.
"He still lives."
"Are you quite sure of it?"
"I am he."
There was a moment of cold silence, during which everyone
was affected according to his nature.
"This time," said Athos, first breaking the silence,
"D''Artagnan has given us an excellent program, and the
letter must be written at once."
"The devil! You are right, Athos," said Aramis; "and it is
a rather difficult matter. The chancellor himself would be
puzzled how to write such a letter, and yet the chancellor
draws up an official report very readily. Never mind! Be
silent, I will write."
Aramis accordingly took the quill, reflected for a few
moments, wrote eight or ten lines in a charming little
female hand, and then with a voice soft and slow, as if each
word had been scrupulously weighed, he read the following:
"My Lord, The person who writes these few lines had the
honor of crossing swords with you in the little enclosure of
the Rue d''Enfer. As you have several times since declared
yourself the friend of that person, he thinks it his duty to
respond to that friendship by sending you important
information. Twice you have nearly been the victim of a near relative, whom you believe to be your heir because you
are ignorant that before she contracted a marriage in
England she was already married in France. But the third
time, which is the present, you may succumb. Your relative
left La Rochelle for England during the night. Watch her
arrival, for she has great and terrible projects. If you
require to know positively what she is capable of, read her
past history on her left shoulder."
"Well, now that will do wonderfully well," said Athos. "My
dear Aramis, you have the pen of a secretary of state. Lord
de Winter will now be upon his guard if the letter should
reach him; and even if it should fall into the hands of the
cardinal, we shall not be compromised. But as the lackey
who goes may make us believe he has been to London and may
stop at Chatellerault, let us give him only half the sum
promised him, with the letter, with an agreement that he
shall have the other half in exchange for the reply. Have
you the diamond?" continued Athos.
"I have what is still better. I have the price"; and
D''Artagnan threw the bag upon the table. At the sound of
the gold Aramis raised his eyes and Porthos started. As to
Athos, he remained unmoved.
"How much in that little bag?"
"Seven thousand livres, in louis of twelve francs."
"Seven thousand livres!" cried Porthos. "That poor little
diamond was worth seven thousand livres?"
"It appears so," said Athos, "since here they are. I don''t
suppose that our friend D''Artagnan has added any of his own
to the amount."
"But, gentlemen, in all this," said D''Artagnan, "we do not
think of the queen. Let us take some heed of the welfare of
her dear Buckingham. That is the least we owe her."
"That''s true," said Athos; "but that concerns Aramis."
"Well," replied the latter, blushing, "what must I say?"
"Oh, that''s simple enough!" replied Athos. "Write a second
letter for that clever personage who lives at Tours."
Aramis resumed his pen, reflected a little, and wrote the
following lines, which he immediately submitted to the
approbation of his friends.
"My dear cousin."
"Ah, ah!" said Athos. "This clever person is your relative,
then?"
"Cousin-german."
"Go on, to your cousin, then!"
Aramis continued:
"My dear Cousin, His Eminence, the cardinal, whom God
preserve for the happiness of France and the confusion of
the enemies of the kingdom, is on the point of putting an
end to the hectic rebellion of La Rochelle. It is probable
that the succor of the English fleet will never even arrive
in sight of the place. I will even venture to say that I am
certain M. de Buckingham will be prevented from setting out
by some great event. His Eminence is the most illustrious
politician of times past, of times present, and probably of
times to come. He would extinguish the sun if the sun
incommoded him. Give these happy tidings to your sister, my
dear cousin. I have dreamed that the unlucky Englishman was
dead. I cannot recollect whether it was by steel or by
poison; only of this I am sure, I have dreamed he was dead,
and you know my dreams never deceive me. Be assured, then,
of seeing me soon return."
"Capital!" cried Athos; "you are the king of poets, my dear
Aramis. You speak like the Apocalypse, and you are as true
as the Gospel. There is nothing now to do but to put the
address to this letter."
"That is easily done," said Aramis.
He folded the letter fancifully, and took up his pen and
wrote:
"To Mlle. Michon, seamstress, Tours."
The three friends looked at one another and laughed; they
were caught.
"Now," said Aramis, "you will please to understand,
gentlemen, that Bazin alone can carry this letter to Tours.
My cousin knows nobody but Bazin, and places confidence in
nobody but him; any other person would fail. Besides, Bazin
is ambitious and learned; Bazin has read history, gentlemen,
he knows that Sixtus the Fifth became Pope after having kept
pigs. Well, as he means to enter the Church at the same
time as myself, he does not despair of becoming Pope in his
turn, or at least a cardinal. You can understand that a man
who has such views will never allow himself to be taken, or
if taken, will undergo martyrdom rather than speak."
"Very well," said D''Artagnan, "I consent to Bazin with all
my heart, but grant me Planchet. Milady had him one day
turned out of doors, with sundry blows of a good stick to
accelerate his motions. Now, Planchet has an excellent
memory; and I will be bound that sooner than relinquish any
possible means of vengeance, he will allow himself to be
beaten to death. If your arrangements at Tours are your
arrangements, Aramis, those of London are mine. I request,
then, that Planchet may be chosen, more particularly as he
has already been to London with me, and knows how to speak
correctly: London, sir, if you please, and my master, Lord
d''Artagnan. With that you may be satisfied he can make his
way, both going and returning."
"In that case," said Athos, "Planchet must receive seven
hundred livres for going, and seven hundred livres for
coming back; and Bazin, three hundred livres for going, and
three hundred livres for returning--that will reduce the sum
to five thousand livres. We will each take a thousand
livres to be employed as seems good, and we will leave a
fund of a thousand livres under the guardianship of Monsieur
Abbe here, for extraordinary occasions or common wants.
Will that do?"
"My dear Athos," said Aramis, "you speak like Nestor, who
was, as everyone knows, the wisest among the Greeks."
"Well, then," said Athos, "it is agreed. Planchet and Bazin
shall go. Everything considered, I am not sorry to retain
Grimaud; he is accustomed to my ways, and I am particular.
Yesterday''s affair must have shaken him a little; his voyage
would upset him quite."
Planchet was sent for, and instructions were given him. The
matter had been named to him by D''Artagnan, who in the first
place pointed out the money to him, then the glory, and then
the danger.
"I will carry the letter in the lining of my coat," said
Planchet; "and if I am taken I will swallow it."
"Well, but then you will not be able to fulfill your
commission," said D''Artagnan.
"You will give me a copy this evening, which I shall know by
heart tomorrow."
D''Artagnan looked at his friends, as if to say, "Well, what
did I tell you?"
"Now," continued he, addressing Planchet, "you have eight
days to get an interview with Lord de Winter; you have eight
days to return--in all sixteen days. If, on the sixteenth
day after your departure, at eight o''clock in the evening
you are not here, no money--even if it be but five minutes
past eight."
"Then, monsieur," said Planchet, "you must buy me a watch."
"Take this," said Athos, with his usual careless generosity,
giving him his own, "and be a good lad. Remember, if you
talk, if you babble, if you get drunk, you risk your
master''s head, who has so much confidence in your fidelity,
and who answers for you. But remember, also, that if by
your fault any evil happens to D''Artagnan, I will find you,
wherever you may be, for the purpose of ripping up your
belly."
"Oh, monsieur!" said Planchet, humiliated by the suspicion,
and moreover, terrified at the calm air of the Musketeer.
"And I," said Porthos, rolling his large eyes, "remember, I
will skin you alive."
"Ah, monsieur!"
"And I," said Aramis, with his soft, melodius voice,
"remember that I will roast you at a slow fire, like a
savage."
"Ah, monsieur!"
Planchet began to weep. We will not venture to say whether
it was from terror created by the threats or from tenderness
at seeing four friends so closely united.
D''Artagnan took his hand. "See, Planchet," said he, "these
gentlemen only say this out of affection for me, but at
bottom they all like you."
"Ah, monsieur," said Planchet, "I will succeed or I will
consent to be cut in quarters; and if they do cut me in
quarters, be assured that not a morsel of me will speak."
It was decided that Planchet should set out the next day, at
eight o''clock in the morning, in order, as he had said, that
he might during the night learn the letter by heart. He
gained just twelve hours by this engagement; he was to be
back on the sixteenth day, by eight o''clock in the evening.
In the morning, as he was mounting his horse, D''Artagnan,
who felt at the bottom of his heart a partiality for the
duke, took Planchet aside.
"Listen," said he to him. "When you have given the letter
to Lord de Winter and he has read it, you will further say
to him: Watch over his Grace Lord Buckingham, for they wish
to assassinate him. But this, Planchet, is so serious and
important that I have not informed my friends that I would
entrust this secret to you; and for a captain''s commission I
would not write it."
"Be satisfied, monsieur," said Planchet, "you shall see if
confidence can be placed in me."
Mounted on an excellent horse, which he was to leave at the
end of twenty leagues in order to take the post, Planchet
set off at a gallop, his spirits a little depressed by the
triple promise made him by the Musketeers, but otherwise as
light-hearted as possible.
Bazin set out the next day for Tours, and was allowed eight
days for performing his commission.
The four friends, during the period of these two absences,
had, as may well be supposed, the eye on the watch, the nose
to the wind, and the ear on the hark. Their days were
passed in endeavoring to catch all that was said, in
observing the proceeding of the cardinal, and in looking out
for all the couriers who arrived. More than once an
involuntary trembling seized them when called upon for some
unexpected service. They had, besides, to look constantly
to their own proper safety; Milday was a phantom which, when
it had once appeared to people, did not allow them to sleep
very quietly.
On the morning of the eighth day, Bazin, fresh as ever, and
smiling, according to custom, entered the cabaret of the
Parpaillot as the four friends were sitting down to
breakfast, saying, as had been agreed upon: "Monsieur
Aramis, the answer from your cousin."
The four friends exchanged a joyful glance; half of the work
was done. It is true, however, that it was the shorter and
easier part.
Aramis, blushing in spite of himself, took the letter, which
was in a large, coarse hand and not particular for its
orthography.
"Good God!" cried he, laughing, "I quite despair of my poor
Michon; she will never write like Monsieur de Voiture."
"What does you mean by boor Michon?" said the Swiss, who was
chatting with the four friends when the letter came.
"Oh, pardieu, less than nothing," said Aramis; "a charming
little seamstress, whom I love dearly and from whose hand I
requested a few lines as a sort of keepsake."
"The duvil!" said the Swiss, "if she is as great a lady as
her writing is large, you are a lucky fellow, gomrade!"
Aramis read the letter, and passed it to Athos.
"See what she writes to me, Athos," said he.
Athos cast a glance over the epistle, and to disperse all
the suspicions that might have been created, read aloud:
"My cousin, My sister and I are skillful in interpreting
dreams, and even entertain great fear of them; but of yours
it may be said, I hope, every dream is an illusion. Adieu!
Take care of yourself, and act so that we may from time to
time hear you spoken of.
"Marie Michon"
"And what dream does she mean?" asked the dragoon, who had
approached during the reading.
"Yez; what''s the dream?" said the Swiss.
"Well, pardieu!" said Aramis, "it was only this: I had a
dream, and I related it to her."
"Yez, yez," said the Swiss; "it''s simple enough to dell a
dream, but I neffer dream."
"You are very fortunate," said Athos, rising; "I wish I
could say as much!"
"Neffer," replied the Swiss, enchanted that a man like Athos
could envy him anything. "Neffer, neffer!"
D''Artagnan, seeing Athos rise, did likewise, took his arm,
and went out.
Porthos and Aramis remained behind to encounter the jokes of
the dragoon and the Swiss.
As to Bazin, he went and lay down on a truss of straw; and
as he had more imagination than the Swiss, he dreamed that
Aramis, having become pope, adorned his head with a
cardinal''s hat.
But, as we have said, Bazin had not, by his fortunate
return, removed more than a part of the uneasiness which
weighed upon the four friends. The days of expectation are
long, and D''Artagnan, in particular, would have wagered that
the days were forty-four hours. He forgot the necessary
slowness of navigation; he exaggerated to himself the power
of Milady. He cre***ed this woman, who appeared to him the
equal of a demon, with agents as supernatural as herself; at
the least noise, he imagined himself about to be arrested,
and that Planchet was being brought back to be confronted
with himself and his friends. Still further, his confidence
in the worthy Picard, at one time so great, diminished day
by day. This anxiety became so great that it even extended
to Aramis and Porthos. Athos alone remained unmoved, as if
no danger hovered over him, and as if he breathed his
customary atmosphere.
On the sixteenth day, in particular, these signs were so
strong in D''Artagnan and his two friends that they could not
remain quiet in one place, and wandered about like ghosts on
the road by which Planchet was expected.
"Really," said Athos to them, "you are not men but children,
to let a woman terrify you so! And what does it amount to,
after all? To be imprisoned. Well, but we should be taken
out of prison; Madame Bonacieux was released. To be
decapitated? Why, every day in the trenches we go
cheerfully to expose ourselves to worse than that--for a
bullet may break a leg, and I am convinced a surgeon would
give us more pain in cutting off a thigh than an executioner
in cutting off a head. Wait quietly, then; in two hours, in
four, in six hours at latest, Planchet will be here. He
promised to be here, and I have very great faith in
Planchet, who appears to me to be a very good lad."
"But if he does not come?" said D''Artagnan.
"Well, if he does not come, it will be because he has been
delayed, that''s all. He may have fallen from his horse, he
may have cut a caper from the deck; he may have traveled so
fast against the wind as to have brought on a violent
catarrh. Eh, gentlemen, let us reckon upon accidents! Life
is a chaplet of little miseries which the philosopher counts
with a smile. Be philosophers, as I am, gentlemen; sit down
at the table and let us drink. Nothing makes the future
look so bright as surveying it through a glass of
chambertin."
"That''s all very well," replied D''Artagnan; "but I am tired
of fearing when I open a fresh bottle that the wine may come
from the cellar of Milady."
"You are very fastidious," said Athos; "such a beautiful
woman!"
"A woman of mark!" said Porthos, with his loud laugh.
Athos started, passed his hand over his brow to remove the
drops of perspiration that burst forth, and rose in his turn
with a nervous movement he could not repress.
The day, however, passed away; and the evening came on
slowly, but finally it came. The bars were filled with
drinkers. Athos, who had pocketed his share of the diamond,
seldom quit the Parpaillot. He had found in M. de Busigny,
who, by the by, had given them a magnificent dinner, a
partner worthy of his company. They were playing together,
as usual, when seven o''clock sounded; the patrol was heard
passing to double the posts. At half past seven the retreat
was sounded.
"We are lost," said D''Artagnan, in the ear of Athos.
"You mean to say we have lost," said Athos, quietly, drawing
four pistoles from his pocket and throwing them upon the
table. "Come, gentlemen," said he, "they are beating the
tattoo. Let us to bed!"
And Athos went out of the Parpaillot, followed by
D''Artagnan. Aramis came behind, giving his arm to Porthos.
Aramis mumbled verses to himself, and Porthos from time to
time pulled a hair or two from his mustache, in sign of
despair.
But all at once a shadow appeared in the darkness the
outline of which was familiar to D''Artagnan, and a well-
known voice said, "Monsieur, I have brought your cloak; it
is chilly this evening."
"Planchet!" cried D''Artagnan, beside himself with joy.
"Planchet!" repeated Aramis and Porthos.
"Well, yes, Planchet, to be sure," said Athos, "what is
there so astonishing in that? He promised to be back by
eight o''clock, and eight is striking. Bravo, Planchet, you
are a lad of your word, and if ever you leave your master, I
will promise you a place in my service."
"Oh, no, never," said Planchet, "I will never leave Monsieur
d''Artagnan."
At the same time D''Artagnan felt that Planchet slipped a
note into his hand.
D''Artagnan felt a strong inclination to embrace Planchet as
he had embraced him on his departure; but he feared lest
this mark of affection, bestowed upon his lackey in the open
street, might appear extraordinary to passers-by, and he
restrained himself.
"I have the note," said he to Athos and to his friends.
"That''s well," said Athos, "let us go home and read it."
The note burned the hand of D''Artagnan. He wished to hasten
their steps; but Athos took his arm and passed it under his
own, and the young man was forced to regulate his pace by
that of his friend.
At length they reached the tent, lit a lamp, and while
Planchet stood at the entrance that the four friends might
not be surprised, D''Artagnan, with a trembling hand, broke
the seal and opened the so anxiously expected letter.
It contained half a line, in a hand perfectly British, and
with a conciseness as perfectly Spartan:
Thank you; be easy.
D''Artagnan translated this for the others.
Athos took the letter from the hands of D''Artagnan,
approached the lamp, set fire to the paper, and did not let
go till it was reduced to a cinder.
Then, calling Planchet, he said, "Now, my lad, you may claim
your seven hundred livres, but you did not run much risk
with such a note as that."
"I am not to blame for having tried every means to compress
it," said Planchet.
"Well!" cried D''Artagnan, "tell us all about it."
"Dame, that''s a long job, monsieur."
"You are right, Planchet," said Athos; "besides, the tattoo
has been sounded, and we should be observed if we kept a
light burning much longer than the others."
"So be it," said D''Artagnan. "Go to bed, Planchet, and
sleep soundly."
"My faith, monsieur! that will be the first time I have done
so for sixteen days."
"And me, too!" said D''Artagnan.
"And me, too!" said Porthos.
"And me, too!" said Aramis.
"Well, if you will have the truth, and me, too!" said Athos.

49 FATALITY
Meantime Milady, drunk with passion, roaring on the deck like a
lioness that has been embarked, had been tempted to throw herself
into the sea that she might regain the coast, for she could not
get rid of the thought that she had been insulted by D''Artagnan,
threatened by Athos, and that she had quit France without being
revenged on them. This idea soon became so insupportable to her
that at the risk of whatever terrible consequences might result
to herself from it, she implored the captain to put her on shore;
but the captain, eager to escape from his false position-placed
between French and English cruisers, like the bat between the
mice and the birds--was in great haste to regain England, and
positively refused to obey what he took for a woman''s caprice,
promising his passenger, who had been particularly recommended to
him by the cardinal, to land her, if the sea and the French
permitted him, at one of the ports of Brittany, either at Lorient
or Brest. But the wind was contrary, the sea bad; they tacked
and kept offshore. Nine days after leaving the Charente, pale
with fatigue and vexation, Milady saw only the blue coasts of
Finisterre appear.
She calculated that to cross this corner of France and return to
the cardinal it would take her at least three days. Add another
day for landing, and that would make four. Add these four to the
nine others, that would be thirteen days lost--thirteen days,
during which so many important events might pass in London. She
reflected likewise that the cardinal would be furious at her
return, and consequently would be more disposed to listen to the
complaints brought against her than to the accusations she
brought against others.
She allowed the vessel to pass Lorient and Brest without
repeating her request to the captain, who, on his part, took care
not to remind her of it. Milady therefore continued her voyage,
and on the very day that Planchet embarked at Portsmouth for
France, the messenger of his Eminence entered the port in
triumph.
All the city was agitated by an extraordinary movement. Four
large vessels, recently built, had just been launched. At the
end of the jetty, his clothes richly laced with gold, glittering,
as was customary with him, with diamonds and precious stones, his
hat ornamented with a white feather which drooped upon his
shoulder, Buckingham was seen surrounded by a staff almost as
brilliant as himself.
It was one of those rare and beautiful days in winter when
England remembers that there is a sun. The star of day, pale but
nevertheless still splendid, was setting in the horizon,
glorifying at once the heavens and the sea with bands of fire,
and casting upon the towers and the old houses of the city a last
ray of gold which made the windows sparkle like the reflection of
a conflagration. Breathing that sea breeze, so much more
invigorating and balsamic as the land is approached,
contemplating all the power of those preparations she was
commissioned to destroy, all the power of that army which she was
to combat alone--she, a woman with a few bags of gold--Milady
compared herself mentally to Ju***h, the terrible Jewess, when
she penetrated the camp of the Assyrians and beheld the enormous
mass of chariots, horses, men, and arms, which a gesture of her
hand was to dissipate like a cloud of smoke.
They entered the roadstead; but as they drew near in order to
cast anchor, a little cutter, looking like a coastguard
formidably armed, approached the merchant vessel and dropped into
the sea a boat which directed its course to the ladder. This
boat contained an officer, a mate, and eight rowers. The officer
alone went on board, where he was received with all the deference
inspired by the uniform.
The officer conversed a few instants with the captain, gave him
several papers, of which he was the bearer, to read, and upon the
order of the merchant captain the whole crew of the vessel, both
passengers and sailors, were called upon deck.
When this species of summons was made the officer inquired aloud
the point of the brig''s departure, its route, its landings; and
to all these questions the captain replied without difficulty and
without hesitation. Then the officer began to pass in review all
the people, one after the other, and stopping when he came to
Milady, surveyed her very closely, but without addressing a
single word to her.
He then returned to the captain, said a few words to him, and as
if from that moment the vessel was under his command, he ordered
a maneuver which the crew executed immediately. Then the vessel
resumed its course, still escorted by the little cutter, which
sailed side by side with it, menacing it with the mouths of its
six cannon. The boat followed in the wake of the ship, a speck
near the enormous mass.
During the examination of Milady by the officer, as may well be
imagined, Milady on her part was not less scrutinizing in her
glances. But however great was the power of this woman with eyes
of flame in reading the hearts of those whose secrets she wished
to divine, she met this time with a countenance of such
impassivity that no discovery followed her investigation. The
officer who had stopped in front of her and studied her with so
much care might have been twenty-five or twenty-six years of age.
He was of pale complexion, with clear blue eyes, rather deeply
set; his mouth, fine and well cut, remained motionless in its
correct lines; his chin, strongly marked, denoted that strength
of will which in the ordinary Britannic type denotes mostly
nothing but obstinacy; a brow a little receding, as is proper for
poets, enthusiasts, and soldiers, was scarcely shaded by short
thin hair which, like the beard which covered the lower part of
his face, was of a beautiful deep chestnut color.
When they entered the port, it was already night. The fog
increased the darkness, and formed round the sternlights and
lanterns of the jetty a circle like that which surrounds the moon
when the weather threatens to become rainy. The air they
breathed was heavy, damp, and cold.
Milady, that woman so courageous and firm, shivered in spite of
herself.
The officer desired to have Milady''s packages pointed out to him,
and ordered them to be placed in the boat. When this operation
was complete, he invited her to descend by offering her his hand.
Milady looked at this man, and hesitated. "Who are you, sir,"
asked she, "who has the kindness to trouble yourself so
particularly on my account?"
"You may perceive, madame, by my uniform, that I am an officer in
the English navy," replied the young man.
"But is it the custom for the officers in the English navy to
place themselves at the service of their female compatriots when
they land in a port of Great Britain, and carry their gallantry
so far as to conduct them ashore?"
"Yes, madame, it is the custom, not from gallantry but prudence,
that in time of war foreigners should be conducted to particular
hotels, in order that they may remain under the eye of the
government until full information can be obtained about them."
These words were pronounced with the most exact politeness and
the most perfect calmness. Nevertheless, they had not the power
of convincing Milady.
"But I am not a foreigner, sir," said she, with an accent as pure
as ever was heard between Portsmouth and Manchester; "my name is
Lady Clarik, and this measure--"
"This measure is general, madame; and you will seek in vain to
evade it."
"I will follow you, then, sir."
Accepting the hand of the officer, she began the descent of the
ladder, at the foot of which the boat waited. The officer
followed her. A large cloak was spread at the stern; the officer
requested her to sit down upon this cloak, and placed himself
beside her.
"Row!" said he to the sailors.
The eight oars fell at once into the sea, making but a single
sound, giving but a single stroke, and the boat seemed to fly
over the surface of the water.
In five minutes they gained the land.
The officer leaped to the pier, and offered his hand to Milady.
A carriage was in waiting.
"Is this carriage for us?" asked Milady.
"Yes, madame," replied the officer.
"The hotel, then, is far away?"
"At the other end of the town."
"Very well," said Milady; and she resolutely entered the
carriage.
The officer saw that the baggage was fastened carefully behind
the carriage; and this operation ended, he took his place beside
Milady, and shut the door.
Immediately, without any order being given or his place of
destination indicated, the coachman set off at a rapid pace, and
plunged into the streets of the city.
So strange a reception naturally gave Milady ample matter for
reflection; so seeing that the young officer did not seem at all
disposed for conversation, she reclined in her corner of the
carriage, and one after the other passed in review all the
surmises which presented themselves to her mind.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, however, surprised at the
length of the journey, she leaned forward toward the door to see
whither she was being conducted. Houses were no longer to be
seen; trees appeared in the darkness like great black phantoms
chasing one another. Milady shuddered.
"But we are no longer in the city, sir," said she.
The young officer preserved silence.
"I beg you to understand, sir, I will go no farther unless you
tell me whither you are taking me."
This threat brought no reply.
"Oh, this is too much," cried Milady. "Help! help!"
No voice replied to hers; the carriage continued to roll on with
rapi***y; the officer seemed a statue.
Milady looked at the officer with one of those terrible
expressions peculiar to her countenance, and which so rarely
failed of their effect; anger made her eyes flash in the
darkness.
The young man remained immovable.
Milady tried to open the door in order to throw herself out.
"Take care, madame," said the young man, coolly, "you will kill
yourself in jumping."
Milady reseated herself, foaming. The officer leaned forward,
looked at her in his turn, and appeared surprised to see that
face, just before so beautiful, distorted with passion and almost
hideous. The artful creature at once comprehended that she was
injuring herself by allowing him thus to read her soul; she
collected her features, and in a complaining voice said: "In the
name of heaven, sir, tell me if it is to you, if it is to your
government, if it is to an enemy I am to attribute the violence
that is done me?"
"No violence will be offered to you, madame, and what happens to
you is the result of a very simple measure which we are obliged
to adopt with all who land in England."
"Then you don''t know me, sir?"
"It is the first time I have had the honor of seeing you."
"And on your honor, you have no cause of hatred against me?"
"None, I swear to you."
There was so much serenity, coolness, mildness even, in the voice
of the young man, that Milady felt reassured.
At length after a journey of nearly an hour, the carriage stopped
before an iron gate, which closed an avenue leading to a castle
severe in form, massive, and isolated. Then, as the wheels
rolled over a fine gravel, Milady could hear a vast roaring,
which she at once recognized as the noise of the sea dashing
against some steep cliff.
The carriage passed under two arched gateways, and at length
stopped in a court large, dark, and square. Almost immediately
the door of the carriage was opened, the young man sprang lightly
out and presented his hand to Milady, who leaned upon it, and in
her turn alighted with tolerable calmness.
"Still, then, I am a prisoner," said Milady, looking around her,
and bringing back her eyes with a most gracious smile to the
young officer; "but I feel assured it will not be for long,"
added she. "My own conscience and your politeness, sir, are the
guarantees of that."
However flattering this compliment, the officer made no reply;
but drawing from his belt a little silver whistle, such as
boatswains use in ships of war, he whistled three times, with
three different modulations. Immediately several men appeared,
who unharnessed the smoking horses, and put the carriage into a
coach house.
Then the officer, with the same calm politeness, invited his
prisoner to enter the house. She, with a still-smiling
countenance, took his arm, and passed with him under a low arched
door, which by a vaulted passage, lighted only at the farther
end, led to a stone staircase around an angle of stone. They
then came to a massive door, which after the introduction into
the lock of a key which the young man carried with him, turned
heavily upon its hinges, and disclosed the chamber destined for
Milady.
With a single glance the prisoner took in the apartment in its
minutest details. It was a chamber whose furniture was at once
appropriate for a prisoner or a free man; and yet bars at the
windows and outside bolts at the door decided the question in
favor of the prison.
In an instant all the strength of mind of this creature, though
drawn from the most vigorous sources, abandoned her; she sank
into a large easy chair, with her arms crossed, her head lowered,
and expecting every instant to see a judge enter to interrogate
her.
But no one entered except two or three marines, who brought her
trunks and packages, deposited them in a corner, and retired
without speaking.
The officer superintended all these details with the same
calmness Milady had constantly seen in him, never pronouncing a
word himself, and making himself obeyed by a gesture of his hand
or a sound of his whistle.
It might have been said that between this man and his inferiors
spoken language did not exist, or had become useless.
At length Milady could hold out no longer; she broke the silence.
"In the name of heaven, sir," cried she, "what means all that is
passing? Put an end to my doubts; I have courage enough for any
danger I can foresee, for every misfortune which I understand.
Where am I, and why am I here? If I am free, why these bars and
these doors? If I am a prisoner, what crime have I committed?"
"You are here in the apartment destined for you, madame. I
received orders to go and take charge of you on the sea, and to
conduct you to this castle. This order I believe I have
accomplished with all the exactness of a soldier, but also with
the courtesy of a gentleman. There terminates, at least to the
present moment, the duty I had to fulfill toward you; the rest
concerns another person."
"And who is that other person?" asked Milady, warmly. "Can you
not tell me his name?"
At the moment a great jingling of spurs was heard on the stairs.
Some voices passed and faded away, and the sound of a single
footstep approached the door.
"That person is here, madame," said the officer, leaving the
entrance open, and drawing himself up in an attitude of respect.
At the same time the door opened; a man appeared on the
threshold. He was without a hat, carried a sword, and flourished
a handkerchief in his hand.
Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom; she
supported herself with one hand upon the arm of the chair, and
advanced her head as if to meet a certainty.
The stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced, after entering
into the circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady
involuntarily drew back.
Then when she had no longer any doubt, she cried, in a state of
stupor, "What, my brother, is it you?"
"Yes, fair lady!" replied Lord de Winter, making a bow, half
courteous, half ironical; "it is I, myself."
"But this castle, then?"
"Is mine."
"This chamber?"
"Is yours."
"I am, then, your prisoner?"
"Nearly so."
"But this is a frightful abuse of power!"
"No high-sounding words! Let us sit down and chat quietly, as
brother and sister ought to do."
Then, turning toward the door, and seeing that the young officer
was waiting for his last orders, he said. "All is well, I thank
you; now leave us alone, Mr. Felton."

50 CHAT BETWEEN BROTHER AND SISTER
During the time which Lord de Winter took to shut the door, close
a shutter, and draw a chair near to his sister-in-law''s fauteuil,
Milady, anxiously thoughtful, plunged her glance into the depths
of possibility, and discovered all the plan, of which she could
not even obtain a glance as long as she was ignorant into whose
hands she had fallen. She knew her brother-in-law to be a worthy
gentleman, a bold hunter, an intrepid player, enterprising with
women, but by no means remarkable for his skill in intrigues.
How had he discovered her arrival, and caused her to be seized?
Why did he detain her?
Athos had dropped some words which proved that the conversation
she had with the cardinal had fallen into outside ears; but she
could not suppose that he had dug a countermine so promptly and
so boldly. She rather feared that her preceding operations in
England might have been discovered. Buckingham might have
guessed that it was she who had cut off the two studs, and avenge
himself for that little treachery; but Buckingham was incapable
of going to any excess against a woman, particularly if that
woman was supposed to have acted from a feeling of jealousy.
This supposition appeared to her most reasonable. It seemed to
her that they wanted to revenge the past, and not to anticipate
the future. At all events, she congratulated herself upon having
fallen into the hands of her brother-in-law, with whom she
reckoned she could deal very easily, rather than into the hands
of an acknowledged and intelligent enemy.
"Yes, let us chat, brother," said she, with a kind of
cheerfulness, decided as she was to draw from the conversation,
in spite of all the dissimulation Lord de Winter could bring, the
revelations of which she stood in need to regulate her future
conduct.
"You have, then, decided to come to England again," said Lord de
Winter, "in spite of the resolutions you so often expressed in
Paris never to set your feet on British ground?"
Milady replied to this question by another question. "To begin
with, tell me," said she, "how have you watched me so closely as
to be aware beforehand not only of my arrival, but even of the
day, the hour, and the port at which I should arrive?"
Lord de Winter adopted the same tactics as Milady, thinking that
as his sister-in-law employed them they must be the best.
"But tell me, my dear sister," replied he, "what makes you come
to England?"
"I come to see you," replied Milady, without knowing how much she
aggravated by this reply the suspicions to which D''Artagnan''s
letter had given birth in the mind of her brother-in-law, and
only desiring to gain the good will of her au***or by a
falsehood.
"Ah, to see me?" said De Winter, cunningly.
"To be sure, to see you. What is there astonishing in that?"
"And you had no other object in coming to England but to see me?"
"No."
"So it was for me alone you have taken the trouble to cross the
Channel?"
"For you alone."
"The deuce! What tenderness, my sister!"
"But am I not your nearest relative?" demanded Milady, with a
tone of the most touching ingenuousness.
"And my only heir, are you not?" said Lord de Winter in his turn,
fixing his eyes on those of Milady.
Whatever command she had over herself, Milady could not help
starting; and as in pronouncing the last words Lord de Winter
placed his hand upon the arm of his sister, this start did not
escape him.
In fact, the blow was direct and severe. The first idea that
occurred to Milady''s mind was that she had been betrayed by
Kitty, and that she had recounted to the baron the selfish
aversion toward himself of which she had imprudently allowed some
marks to escape before her servant. She also recollected the
furious and imprudent attack she had made upon D''Artagnan when he
spared the life of her brother.
"I do not understand, my Lord," said she, in order to gain time
and make her adversary speak out. "What do you mean to say? Is
there any secret meaning concealed beneath your words?"
"Oh, my God, no!" said Lord de Winter, with apparent good nature.
"You wish to see me, and you come to England. I learn this
desire, or rather I suspect that you feel it; and in order to
spare you all the annoyances of a nocturnal arrival in a port and
all the fatigues of landing, I send one of my officers to meet
you, I place a carriage at his orders, and he brings you hither
to this castle, of which I am governor, whither I come every day,
and where, in order to satisfy our mutual desire of seeing each
other, I have prepared you a chamber. What is there more
astonishing in all that I have said to you than in what you have
told me?"
"No; what I think astonishing is that you should expect my
coming."
"And yet that is the most simple thing in the world, my dear
sister. Have you not observed that the captain of your little
vessel, on entering the roadstead, sent forward, in order to
obtain permission to enter the port, a little boat bearing his
logbook and the register of his voyagers? I am commandant of the
port. They brought me that book. I recognized your name in it.
My heart told me what your mouth has just confirmed--that is to
say, with what view you have exposed yourself to the dangers of a
sea so perilous, or at least so troublesome at this moment--and I
sent my cutter to meet you. You know the rest."
Milady knew that Lord de Winter lied, and she was the more
alarmed.
"My brother," continued she, "was not that my Lord Buckingham
whom I saw on the jetty this evening as we arrived?"
"Himself. Ah, I can understand how the sight of him struck you,"
replied Lord de Winter. "You came from a country where he must
be very much talked of, and I know that his armaments against
France greatly engage the attention of your friend the cardinal."
"My friend the cardinal!" cried Milady, seeing that on this point
as on the other Lord de Winter seemed well instructed.
"Is he not your friend?" replied the baron, negligently. "Ah,
pardon! I thought so; but we will return to my Lord Duke
presently. Let us not depart from the sentimental turn our
conversation had taken. You came, you say, to see me?"
"Yes."
"Well, I reply that you shall be served to the height of your
wishes, and that we shall see each other every day."
"Am I, then, to remain here eternally?" demanded Milady, with a
certain terror.
"Do you find yourself badly lodged, sister? Demand anything you
want, and I will hasten to have you furnished with it."
"But I have neither my women nor my servants."
"You shall have all, madame. Tell me on what footing your
household was established by your first husband, and although I
am only your brother-in-law, I will arrange one similar."
"My first husband!" cried Milady, looking at Lord de Winter with
eyes almost starting from their sockets.
"Yes, your French husband. I don''t speak of my brother. If you
have forgotten, as he is still living, I can write to him and he
will send me information on the subject."
A cold sweat burst from the brow of Milady.
"You jest!" said she, in a hollow voice.
"Do I look so?" asked the baron, rising and going a step
backward.
"Or rather you insult me," continued she, pressing with her
stiffened hands the two arms of her easy chair, and raising
herself upon her wrists.
"I insult you!" said Lord de Winter, with contempt. "In truth,
madame, do you think that can be possible?"
"Indeed, sir," said Milady, "you must be either drunk or mad.
Leave the room, and send me a woman."
"Women are very indiscreet, my sister. Cannot I serve you as a
waiting maid? By that means all our secrets will remain in the
family."
"Insolent!" cried Milady; and as if acted upon by a spring, she
bounded toward the baron, who awaited her attack with his arms
crossed, but nevertheless with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Come!" said he. "I know you are accustomed to assassinate
people; but I warn you I shall defend myself, even against you."
"You are right," said Milady. "You have all the appearance of
being cowardly enough to lift your hand against a woman."
"Perhaps so; and I have an excuse, for mine would not be the
first hand of a man that has been placed upon you, I imagine."
And the baron pointed, with a slow and accusing gesture, to the
left shoulder of Milady, which he almost touched with his finger.
Milady uttered a deep, inward shriek, and retreated to a corner
of the room like a panther which crouches for a spring.
"Oh, growl as much as you please," cried Lord de Winter, "but
don''t try to bite, for I warn you that it would be to your
disadvantage. There are here no procurators who regulate
successions beforehand. There is no knight-errant to come and
seek a quarrel with me on account of the fair lady I detain a
prisoner; but I have judges quite ready who will quickly dispose
of a woman so shameless as to glide, a bigamist, into the bed of
Lord de Winter, my brother. And these judges, I warn you, will
soon send you to an executioner who will make both your shoulders
alike."
The eyes of Milady darted such flashes that although he was a man
and armed before an unarmed woman, he felt the chill of fear
glide through his whole frame. However, he continued all the
same, but with increasing warmth: "Yes, I can very well
understand that after having inherited the fortune of my brother
it would be very agreeable to you to be my heir likewise; but
know beforehand, if you kill me or cause me to be killed, my
precautions are taken. Not a penny of what I possess will pass
into your hands. Were you not already rich enough--you who
possess nearly a million? And could you not stop your fatal
career, if you did not do evil for the infinite and supreme joy
of doing it? Oh, be assured, if the memory of my brother were
not sacred to me, you should rot in a state dungeon or satisfy
the curiosity of sailors at Tyburn. I will be silent, but you
must endure your captivity quietly. In fifteen or twenty days I
shall set out for La Rochelle with the army; but on the eve of my
departure a vessel which I shall see depart will take you hence
and convey you to our colonies in the south. And be assured that
you shall be accompanied by one who will blow your brains out at
the first attempt you make to return to England or the
Continent."
Milady listened with an attention that dilated her inflamed eyes.
"Yes, at present," continued Lord de Winter, "you will remain in
this castle. The walls are thick, the doors strong, and the bars
solid; besides, your window opens immediately over the sea. The
men of my crew, who are devoted to me for life and death, mount
guard around this apartment, and watch all the passages that lead
to the courtyard. Even if you gained the yard, there would still
be three iron gates for you to pass. The order is positive. A
step, a gesture, a word, on your part, denoting an effort to
escape, and you are to be fired upon. If they kill you, English
justice will be under an obligation to me for having saved it
trouble. Ah! I see your features regain their calmness, your
countenance recovers its assurance. You are saying to yourself:
''Fifteen days, twenty days? Bah! I have an inventive mind;
before that is expired some idea will occur to me. I have an
infernal spirit. I shall meet with a victim. Before fifteen
days are gone by I shall be away from here.'' Ah, try it!"
Milady, finding her thoughts betrayed, dug her nails into her
flesh *****bdue every emotion that might give to her face any
expression except agony.
Lord de Winter continued: "The officer who commands here in my
absence you have already seen, and therefore know him. He knows
how, as you must have observed, to obey an order--for you did
not, I am sure, come from Portsmouth hither without endeavoring
to make him speak. What do you say of him? Could a statue of
marble have been more impassive and more mute? You have already
tried the power of your seductions upon many men, and
unfortunately you have always succeeded; but I give you leave to
try them upon this one. PARDIEU! if you succeed with him, I
pronounce you the demon himself."
He went toward the door and opened it hastily.
"Call Mr. Felton," said he. "Wait a minute longer, and I will
introduce him to you."
There followed between these two personages a strange silence,
during which the sound of a slow and regular step was heard
approaching. Shortly a human form appeared in the shade of the
corridor, and the young lieutenant, with whom we are already
acquainted, stopped at the threshold to receive the orders of the
baron.
"Come in, my dear John," said Lord de Winter, "come in, and shut
the door."
The young officer entered.
"Now," said the baron, "look at this woman. She is young; she is
beautiful; she possesses all earthly seductions. Well, she is a
monster, who, at twenty-five years of age, has been guilty of as
many crimes as you could read of in a year in the archives of our
tribunals. Her voice prejudices her hearers in her favor; her
beauty serves as a bait to her victims; her body even pays what
she promises--I must do her that justice. She will try to seduce
you, perhaps she will try to kill you. I have extricated you
from misery, Felton; I have caused you to be named lieutenant; I
once saved your life, you know on what occasion. I am for you
not only a protector, but a friend; not only a benefactor, but a
father. This woman has come back again into England for the
purpose of conspiring against my life. I hold this serpent in my
hands. Well, I call you, and say to you: Friend Felton, John,
my child, guard me, and more particularly guard yourself, against
this woman. Swear, by your hopes of salvation, to keep her
safely for the chastisement she has merited. John Felton, I
trust your word! John Felton, I put faith in your loyalty!"
"My Lord," said the young officer, summoning to his mild
countenance all the hatred he could find in his heart, "my Lord,
I swear all shall be done as you desire."
Milady received this look like a resigned victim; it was
impossible to imagine a more submissive or a more mild expression
than that which prevailed on her beautiful countenance. Lord de
Winter himself could scarcely recognize the tigress who, a minute
before, prepared apparently for a fight.
"She is not to leave this chamber, understand, John," continued
the baron. "She is to correspond with nobody; she is to speak to
no one but you--if you will do her the honor to address a word to
her."
"That is sufficient, my Lord! I have sworn."
"And now, madame, try to make your peace with God, for you are
judged by men!"
Milady let her head sink, as if crushed by this sentence. Lord
de Winter went out, making a sign to Felton, who followed him,
shutting the door after him.
One instant after, the heavy step of a marine who served as
sentinel was heard in the corridor--his ax in his girdle and his
musket on his shoulder.
Milady remained for some minutes in the same position, for she
thought they might perhaps be examining her through the keyhole;
she then slowly raised her head, which had resumed its formidable
expression of menace and defiance, ran to the door to listen,
looked out of her window, and returning to bury herself again in
her large armchair, she reflected.