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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:16:46 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:16:46 -0700 |
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diff --git a/1257-h/1257-h.htm b/1257-h/1257-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5e330a --- /dev/null +++ b/1257-h/1257-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,45858 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas, Père</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.pfirst {text-indent: 0 } + +.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } + +span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } +span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1257 ***</div> + +<h1>The Three Musketeers</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Alexandre Dumas, Père</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="small-caps">First Volume of the D’Artagnan Series</span> +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><span>CONTENTS</span></h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">AUTHOR’S PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">Chapter I. THE THREE PRESENTS OF D’ARTAGNAN THE ELDER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Chapter II. THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TRÉVILLE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Chapter III. THE AUDIENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Chapter IV. THE SHOULDER OF ATHOS, THE BALDRIC OF PORTHOS AND THE HANDKERCHIEF OF ARAMIS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">Chapter V. THE KING’S MUSKETEERS AND THE CARDINAL’S GUARDS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">Chapter VI. HIS MAJESTY KING LOUIS XIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Chapter VII. THE INTERIOR OF THE MUSKETEERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">Chapter VIII. CONCERNING A COURT INTRIGUE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">Chapter IX. D’ARTAGNAN SHOWS HIMSELF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">Chapter X. A MOUSETRAP IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">Chapter XI. IN WHICH THE PLOT THICKENS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">Chapter XII. GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">Chapter XIII. MONSIEUR BONACIEUX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">Chapter XIV. THE MAN OF MEUNG</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">Chapter XV. MEN OF THE ROBE AND MEN OF THE SWORD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">Chapter XVI. IN WHICH M. SÉGUIER, KEEPER OF THE SEALS, LOOKS MORE THAN ONCE FOR THE BELL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">Chapter XVII. BONACIEUX AT HOME</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">Chapter XVIII. LOVER AND HUSBAND</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">Chapter XIX. PLAN OF CAMPAIGN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">Chapter XX. THE JOURNEY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">Chapter XXI. THE COUNTESS DE WINTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">Chapter XXII. THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">Chapter XXIII. THE RENDEZVOUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">Chapter XXIV. THE PAVILION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">Chapter XXV. PORTHOS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">Chapter XXVI. ARAMIS AND HIS THESIS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">Chapter XXVII. THE WIFE OF ATHOS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">Chapter XXVIII. THE RETURN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">Chapter XXIX. HUNTING FOR THE EQUIPMENTS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">Chapter XXX. D’ARTAGNAN AND THE ENGLISHMAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">Chapter XXXI. ENGLISH AND FRENCH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">Chapter XXXII. A PROCURATOR’S DINNER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">Chapter XXXIII. SOUBRETTE AND MISTRESS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">Chapter XXXIV. IN WHICH THE EQUIPMENT OF ARAMIS AND PORTHOS IS TREATED OF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">Chapter XXXV. A GASCON A MATCH FOR CUPID</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">Chapter XXXVI. DREAM OF VENGEANCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">Chapter XXXVII. MILADY’S SECRET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap38">Chapter XXXVIII. HOW, WITHOUT INCOMMODING HIMSELF, ATHOS PROCURES HIS EQUIPMENT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap39">Chapter XXXIX. A VISION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap40">Chapter XL. A TERRIBLE VISION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap41">Chapter XLI. THE SIEGE OF LA ROCHELLE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap42">Chapter XLII. THE ANJOU WINE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap43">Chapter XLIII. THE SIGN OF THE RED DOVECOT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap44">Chapter XLIV. THE UTILITY OF STOVEPIPES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap45">Chapter XLV. A CONJUGAL SCENE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap46">Chapter XLVI. THE BASTION SAINT-GERVAIS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap47">Chapter XLVII. THE COUNCIL OF THE MUSKETEERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap48">Chapter XLVIII. A FAMILY AFFAIR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap49">Chapter XLIX. FATALITY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap50">Chapter L. CHAT BETWEEN BROTHER AND SISTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap51">Chapter LI. OFFICER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap52">Chapter LII. CAPTIVITY: THE FIRST DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap53">Chapter LIII. CAPTIVITY: THE SECOND DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap54">Chapter LIV. CAPTIVITY: THE THIRD DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap55">Chapter LV. CAPTIVITY: THE FOURTH DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap56">Chapter LVI. CAPTIVITY: THE FIFTH DAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap57">Chapter LVII. MEANS FOR CLASSICAL TRAGEDY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap58">Chapter LVIII. ESCAPE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap59">Chapter LIX. WHAT TOOK PLACE AT PORTSMOUTH AUGUST 23, 1628</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap60">Chapter LX. IN FRANCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap61">Chapter LXI. THE CARMELITE CONVENT AT BÉTHUNE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap62">Chapter LXII. TWO VARIETIES OF DEMONS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap63">Chapter LXIII. THE DROP OF WATER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap64">Chapter LXIV. THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap65">Chapter LXV. TRIAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap66">Chapter LXVI. EXECUTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap67">Chapter LXVII. CONCLUSION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap68">EPILOGUE</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>AUTHOR’S PREFACE</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span class="dropspan">n</span> +which it is proved that, notwithstanding their names’ ending in <i>os</i> and +<i>is</i>, the heroes of the story which we are about to have the honor to +relate to our readers have nothing mythological about them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +A short time ago, while making researches in the Royal Library for my History +of Louis XIV., I stumbled by chance upon the Memoirs of M. d’Artagnan, +printed—as were most of the works of that period, in which authors could +not tell the truth without the risk of a residence, more or less long, in the +Bastille—at Amsterdam, by Pierre Rouge. The title attracted me; I took +them home with me, with the permission of the guardian, and devoured them. +</p> + +<p> +It is not my intention here to enter into an analysis of this curious work; and +I shall satisfy myself with referring such of my readers as appreciate the +pictures of the period to its pages. They will therein find portraits penciled +by the hand of a master; and although these squibs may be, for the most part, +traced upon the doors of barracks and the walls of cabarets, they will not find +the likenesses of Louis XIII., Anne of Austria, Richelieu, Mazarin, and the +courtiers of the period, less faithful than in the history of M. Anquetil. +</p> + +<p> +But, it is well known, what strikes the capricious mind of the poet is not +always what affects the mass of readers. Now, while admiring, as others +doubtless will admire, the details we have to relate, our main preoccupation +concerned a matter to which no one before ourselves had given a thought. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan relates that on his first visit to M. de Tréville, captain of the +king’s Musketeers, he met in the antechamber three young men, serving in the +illustrious corps into which he was soliciting the honor of being received, +bearing the names of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +We must confess these three strange names struck us; and it immediately +occurred to us that they were but pseudonyms, under which D’Artagnan had +disguised names perhaps illustrious, or else that the bearers of these borrowed +names had themselves chosen them on the day in which, from caprice, discontent, +or want of fortune, they had donned the simple Musketeer’s uniform. +</p> + +<p> +From that moment we had no rest till we could find some trace in contemporary +works of these extraordinary names which had so strongly awakened our +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +The catalogue alone of the books we read with this object would fill a whole +chapter, which, although it might be very instructive, would certainly afford +our readers but little amusement. It will suffice, then, to tell them that at +the moment at which, discouraged by so many fruitless investigations, we were +about to abandon our search, we at length found, guided by the counsels of our +illustrious friend Paulin Paris, a manuscript in folio, endorsed 4772 or 4773, +we do not recollect which, having for title, “Memoirs of the Comte de la Fère, +Touching Some Events Which Passed in France Toward the End of the Reign of King +Louis XIII. and the Commencement of the Reign of King Louis XIV.” +</p> + +<p> +It may be easily imagined how great was our joy when, in turning over this +manuscript, our last hope, we found at the twentieth page the name of Athos, at +the twenty-seventh the name of Porthos, and at the thirty-first the name of +Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +The discovery of a completely unknown manuscript at a period in which +historical science is carried to such a high degree appeared almost miraculous. +We hastened, therefore, to obtain permission to print it, with the view of +presenting ourselves someday with the pack of others at the doors of the +Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, if we should not succeed—a +very probable thing, by the by—in gaining admission to the Académie +Française with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel bound to say, was +graciously granted; which compels us here to give a public contradiction to the +slanderers who pretend that we live under a government but moderately indulgent +to men of letters. +</p> + +<p> +Now, this is the first part of this precious manuscript which we offer to our +readers, restoring it to the title which belongs to it, and entering into an +engagement that if (of which we have no doubt) this first part should obtain +the success it merits, we will publish the second immediately. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, as the godfather is a second father, we beg the reader to lay +to our account, and not to that of the Comte de la Fère, the pleasure or the +<i>ennui</i> he may experience. +</p> + +<p> +This being understood, let us proceed with our history. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>The Three Musketeers</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>Chapter I.<br/> +THE THREE PRESENTS OF D’ARTAGNAN THE ELDER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">O</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the +market town of Meung, in which the author of <i>Romance of the Rose</i> was +born, appeared to be in as perfect a state of revolution as if the Huguenots +had just made a second La Rochelle of it. Many citizens, seeing the women +flying toward the High Street, leaving their children crying at the open doors, +hastened to don the cuirass, and supporting their somewhat uncertain courage +with a musket or a partisan, directed their steps toward the hostelry of the +Jolly Miller, before which was gathered, increasing every minute, a compact +group, vociferous and full of curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +In those times panics were common, and few days passed without some city or +other registering in its archives an event of this kind. There were nobles, who +made war against each other; there was the king, who made war against the +cardinal; there was Spain, which made war against the king. Then, in addition +to these concealed or public, secret or open wars, there were robbers, +mendicants, Huguenots, wolves, and scoundrels, who made war upon everybody. The +citizens always took up arms readily against thieves, wolves or scoundrels, +often against nobles or Huguenots, sometimes against the king, but never +against the cardinal or Spain. It resulted, then, from this habit that on the +said first Monday of April, 1625, the citizens, on hearing the clamor, and +seeing neither the red-and-yellow standard nor the livery of the Duc de +Richelieu, rushed toward the hostel of the Jolly Miller. When arrived there, +the cause of the hubbub was apparent to all. +</p> + +<p> +A young man—we can sketch his portrait at a dash. Imagine to yourself a +Don Quixote of eighteen; a Don Quixote without his corselet, without his coat +of mail, without his cuisses; a Don Quixote clothed in a woolen doublet, the +blue color of which had faded into a nameless shade between lees of wine and a +heavenly azure; face long and brown; high cheek bones, a sign of sagacity; the +maxillary muscles enormously developed, an infallible sign by which a Gascon +may always be detected, even without his cap—and our young man wore a cap +set off with a sort of feather; the eye open and intelligent; the nose hooked, +but finely chiseled. Too big for a youth, too small for a grown man, an +experienced eye might have taken him for a farmer’s son upon a journey had it +not been for the long sword which, dangling from a leather baldric, hit against +the calves of its owner as he walked, and against the rough side of his steed +when he was on horseback. +</p> + +<p> +For our young man had a steed which was the observed of all observers. It was a +Béarn pony, from twelve to fourteen years old, yellow in his hide, without a +hair in his tail, but not without windgalls on his legs, which, though going +with his head lower than his knees, rendering a martingale quite unnecessary, +contrived nevertheless to perform his eight leagues a day. Unfortunately, the +qualities of this horse were so well concealed under his strange-colored hide +and his unaccountable gait, that at a time when everybody was a connoisseur in +horseflesh, the appearance of the aforesaid pony at Meung—which place he +had entered about a quarter of an hour before, by the gate of +Beaugency—produced an unfavorable feeling, which extended to his rider. +</p> + +<p> +And this feeling had been more painfully perceived by young +D’Artagnan—for so was the Don Quixote of this second Rosinante +named—from his not being able to conceal from himself the ridiculous +appearance that such a steed gave him, good horseman as he was. He had sighed +deeply, therefore, when accepting the gift of the pony from M. d’Artagnan the +elder. He was not ignorant that such a beast was worth at least twenty livres; +and the words which had accompanied the present were above all price. +</p> + +<p> +“My son,” said the old Gascon gentleman, in that pure Béarn <i>patois</i> of +which Henry IV. could never rid himself, “this horse was born in the house of +your father about thirteen years ago, and has remained in it ever since, which +ought to make you love it. Never sell it; allow it to die tranquilly and +honorably of old age, and if you make a campaign with it, take as much care of +it as you would of an old servant. At court, provided you have ever the honor +to go there,” continued M. d’Artagnan the elder, “—an honor to which, +remember, your ancient nobility gives you the right—sustain worthily your +name of gentleman, which has been worthily borne by your ancestors for five +hundred years, both for your own sake and the sake of those who belong to you. +By the latter I mean your relatives and friends. Endure nothing from anyone +except Monsieur the Cardinal and the king. It is by his courage, please +observe, by his courage alone, that a gentleman can make his way nowadays. +Whoever hesitates for a second perhaps allows the bait to escape which during +that exact second fortune held out to him. You are young. You ought to be brave +for two reasons: the first is that you are a Gascon, and the second is that you +are my son. Never fear quarrels, but seek adventures. I have taught you how to +handle a sword; you have thews of iron, a wrist of steel. Fight on all +occasions. Fight the more for duels being forbidden, since consequently there +is twice as much courage in fighting. I have nothing to give you, my son, but +fifteen crowns, my horse, and the counsels you have just heard. Your mother +will add to them a recipe for a certain balsam, which she had from a Bohemian +and which has the miraculous virtue of curing all wounds that do not reach the +heart. Take advantage of all, and live happily and long. I have but one word to +add, and that is to propose an example to you—not mine, for I myself have +never appeared at court, and have only taken part in religious wars as a +volunteer; I speak of Monsieur de Tréville, who was formerly my neighbor, and +who had the honor to be, as a child, the play-fellow of our king, Louis XIII., +whom God preserve! Sometimes their play degenerated into battles, and in these +battles the king was not always the stronger. The blows which he received +increased greatly his esteem and friendship for Monsieur de Tréville. +Afterward, Monsieur de Tréville fought with others: in his first journey to +Paris, five times; from the death of the late king till the young one came of +age, without reckoning wars and sieges, seven times; and from that date up to +the present day, a hundred times, perhaps! So that in spite of edicts, +ordinances, and decrees, there he is, captain of the Musketeers; that is to +say, chief of a legion of Cæsars, whom the king holds in great esteem and whom +the cardinal dreads—he who dreads nothing, as it is said. Still further, +Monsieur de Tréville gains ten thousand crowns a year; he is therefore a great +noble. He began as you begin. Go to him with this letter, and make him your +model in order that you may do as he has done.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon which M. d’Artagnan the elder girded his own sword round his son, kissed +him tenderly on both cheeks, and gave him his benediction. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving the paternal chamber, the young man found his mother, who was +waiting for him with the famous recipe of which the counsels we have just +repeated would necessitate frequent employment. The adieux were on this side +longer and more tender than they had been on the other—not that M. +d’Artagnan did not love his son, who was his only offspring, but M. d’Artagnan +was a man, and he would have considered it unworthy of a man to give way to his +feelings; whereas Mme. D’Artagnan was a woman, and still more, a mother. She +wept abundantly; and—let us speak it to the praise of M. d’Artagnan the +younger—notwithstanding the efforts he made to remain firm, as a future +Musketeer ought, nature prevailed, and he shed many tears, of which he +succeeded with great difficulty in concealing the half. +</p> + +<p> +The same day the young man set forward on his journey, furnished with the three +paternal gifts, which consisted, as we have said, of fifteen crowns, the horse, +and the letter for M. de Tréville—the counsels being thrown into the +bargain. +</p> + +<p> +With such a <i>vade mecum</i> D’Artagnan was morally and physically an exact +copy of the hero of Cervantes, to whom we so happily compared him when our duty +of an historian placed us under the necessity of sketching his portrait. Don +Quixote took windmills for giants, and sheep for armies; D’Artagnan took every +smile for an insult, and every look as a provocation—whence it resulted +that from Tarbes to Meung his fist was constantly doubled, or his hand on the +hilt of his sword; and yet the fist did not descend upon any jaw, nor did the +sword issue from its scabbard. It was not that the sight of the wretched pony +did not excite numerous smiles on the countenances of passers-by; but as +against the side of this pony rattled a sword of respectable length, and as +over this sword gleamed an eye rather ferocious than haughty, these passers-by +repressed their hilarity, or if hilarity prevailed over prudence, they +endeavored to laugh only on one side, like the masks of the ancients. +D’Artagnan, then, remained majestic and intact in his susceptibility, till he +came to this unlucky city of Meung. +</p> + +<p> +But there, as he was alighting from his horse at the gate of the Jolly Miller, +without anyone—host, waiter, or hostler—coming to hold his stirrup +or take his horse, D’Artagnan spied, though an open window on the ground floor, +a gentleman, well-made and of good carriage, although of rather a stern +countenance, talking with two persons who appeared to listen to him with +respect. D’Artagnan fancied quite naturally, according to his custom, that he +must be the object of their conversation, and listened. This time D’Artagnan +was only in part mistaken; he himself was not in question, but his horse was. +The gentleman appeared to be enumerating all his qualities to his auditors; +and, as I have said, the auditors seeming to have great deference for the +narrator, they every moment burst into fits of laughter. Now, as a half-smile +was sufficient to awaken the irascibility of the young man, the effect produced +upon him by this vociferous mirth may be easily imagined. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, D’Artagnan was desirous of examining the appearance of this +impertinent personage who ridiculed him. He fixed his haughty eye upon the +stranger, and perceived a man of from forty to forty-five years of age, with +black and piercing eyes, pale complexion, a strongly marked nose, and a black +and well-shaped mustache. He was dressed in a doublet and hose of a violet +color, with aiguillettes of the same color, without any other ornaments than +the customary slashes, through which the shirt appeared. This doublet and hose, +though new, were creased, like traveling clothes for a long time packed in a +portmanteau. D’Artagnan made all these remarks with the rapidity of a most +minute observer, and doubtless from an instinctive feeling that this stranger +was destined to have a great influence over his future life. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as at the moment in which D’Artagnan fixed his eyes upon the gentleman in +the violet doublet, the gentleman made one of his most knowing and profound +remarks respecting the Béarnese pony, his two auditors laughed even louder than +before, and he himself, though contrary to his custom, allowed a pale smile (if +I may be allowed to use such an expression) to stray over his countenance. This +time there could be no doubt; D’Artagnan was really insulted. Full, then, of +this conviction, he pulled his cap down over his eyes, and endeavoring to copy +some of the court airs he had picked up in Gascony among young traveling +nobles, he advanced with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other +resting on his hip. Unfortunately, as he advanced, his anger increased at every +step; and instead of the proper and lofty speech he had prepared as a prelude +to his challenge, he found nothing at the tip of his tongue but a gross +personality, which he accompanied with a furious gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, sir, you sir, who are hiding yourself behind that shutter—yes, +you, sir, tell me what you are laughing at, and we will laugh together!” +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman raised his eyes slowly from the nag to his cavalier, as if he +required some time to ascertain whether it could be to him that such strange +reproaches were addressed; then, when he could not possibly entertain any doubt +of the matter, his eyebrows slightly bent, and with an accent of irony and +insolence impossible to be described, he replied to D’Artagnan, “I was not +speaking to you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am speaking to you!” replied the young man, additionally exasperated +with this mixture of insolence and good manners, of politeness and scorn. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger looked at him again with a slight smile, and retiring from the +window, came out of the hostelry with a slow step, and placed himself before +the horse, within two paces of D’Artagnan. His quiet manner and the ironical +expression of his countenance redoubled the mirth of the persons with whom he +had been talking, and who still remained at the window. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, seeing him approach, drew his sword a foot out of the scabbard. +</p> + +<p> +“This horse is decidedly, or rather has been in his youth, a buttercup,” +resumed the stranger, continuing the remarks he had begun, and addressing +himself to his auditors at the window, without paying the least attention to +the exasperation of D’Artagnan, who, however, placed himself between him and +them. “It is a color very well known in botany, but till the present time very +rare among horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are people who laugh at the horse that would not dare to laugh at the +master,” cried the young emulator of the furious Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not often laugh, sir,” replied the stranger, “as you may perceive by the +expression of my countenance; but nevertheless I retain the privilege of +laughing when I please.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” cried D’Artagnan, “will allow no man to laugh when it displeases me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sir,” continued the stranger, more calm than ever; “well, that is +perfectly right!” and turning on his heel, was about to re-enter the hostelry +by the front gate, beneath which D’Artagnan on arriving had observed a saddled +horse. +</p> + +<p> +But, D’Artagnan was not of a character to allow a man to escape him thus who +had the insolence to ridicule him. He drew his sword entirely from the +scabbard, and followed him, crying, “Turn, turn, Master Joker, lest I strike +you behind!” +</p> + +<p> +“Strike me!” said the other, turning on his heels, and surveying the young man +with as much astonishment as contempt. “Why, my good fellow, you must be mad!” +Then, in a suppressed tone, as if speaking to himself, “This is annoying,” +continued he. “What a godsend this would be for his Majesty, who is seeking +everywhere for brave fellows to recruit for his Musketeers!” +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely finished, when D’Artagnan made such a furious lunge at him that +if he had not sprung nimbly backward, it is probable he would have jested for +the last time. The stranger, then perceiving that the matter went beyond +raillery, drew his sword, saluted his adversary, and seriously placed himself +on guard. But at the same moment, his two auditors, accompanied by the host, +fell upon D’Artagnan with sticks, shovels and tongs. This caused so rapid and +complete a diversion from the attack that D’Artagnan’s adversary, while the +latter turned round to face this shower of blows, sheathed his sword with the +same precision, and instead of an actor, which he had nearly been, became a +spectator of the fight—a part in which he acquitted himself with his +usual impassiveness, muttering, nevertheless, “A plague upon these Gascons! +Replace him on his orange horse, and let him begone!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not before I have killed you, poltroon!” cried D’Artagnan, making the best +face possible, and never retreating one step before his three assailants, who +continued to shower blows upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Another gasconade!” murmured the gentleman. “By my honor, these Gascons are +incorrigible! Keep up the dance, then, since he will have it so. When he is +tired, he will perhaps tell us that he has had enough of it.” +</p> + +<p> +But the stranger knew not the headstrong personage he had to do with; +D’Artagnan was not the man ever to cry for quarter. The fight was therefore +prolonged for some seconds; but at length D’Artagnan dropped his sword, which +was broken in two pieces by the blow of a stick. Another blow full upon his +forehead at the same moment brought him to the ground, covered with blood and +almost fainting. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that people came flocking to the scene of action from all +sides. The host, fearful of consequences, with the help of his servants carried +the wounded man into the kitchen, where some trifling attentions were bestowed +upon him. +</p> + +<p> +As to the gentleman, he resumed his place at the window, and surveyed the crowd +with a certain impatience, evidently annoyed by their remaining undispersed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how is it with this madman?” exclaimed he, turning round as the noise of +the door announced the entrance of the host, who came in to inquire if he was +unhurt. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency is safe and sound?” asked the host. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! Perfectly safe and sound, my good host; and I wish to know what has +become of our young man.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is better,” said the host, “he fainted quite away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“But before he fainted, he collected all his strength to challenge you, and to +defy you while challenging you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this fellow must be the devil in person!” cried the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, your Excellency, he is not the devil,” replied the host, with a grin +of contempt; “for during his fainting we rummaged his valise and found nothing +but a clean shirt and eleven crowns—which however, did not prevent his +saying, as he was fainting, that if such a thing had happened in Paris, you +should have cause to repent of it at a later period.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the stranger coolly, “he must be some prince in disguise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you this, good sir,” resumed the host, “in order that you may be +on your guard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he name no one in his passion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; he struck his pocket and said, ‘We shall see what Monsieur de Tréville +will think of this insult offered to his <i>protégé</i>.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Tréville?” said the stranger, becoming attentive, “he put his hand +upon his pocket while pronouncing the name of Monsieur de Tréville? Now, my +dear host, while your young man was insensible, you did not fail, I am quite +sure, to ascertain what that pocket contained. What was there in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A letter addressed to Monsieur de Tréville, captain of the Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly as I have the honor to tell your Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +The host, who was not endowed with great perspicacity, did not observe the +expression which his words had given to the physiognomy of the stranger. The +latter rose from the front of the window, upon the sill of which he had leaned +with his elbow, and knitted his brow like a man disquieted. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” murmured he, between his teeth. “Can Tréville have set this Gascon +upon me? He is very young; but a sword thrust is a sword thrust, whatever be +the age of him who gives it, and a youth is less to be suspected than an older +man,” and the stranger fell into a reverie which lasted some minutes. “A weak +obstacle is sometimes sufficient to overthrow a great design. +</p> + +<p> +“Host,” said he, “could you not contrive to get rid of this frantic boy for me? +In conscience, I cannot kill him; and yet,” added he, with a coldly menacing +expression, “he annoys me. Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“In my wife’s chamber, on the first flight, where they are dressing his +wounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“His things and his bag are with him? Has he taken off his doublet?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, everything is in the kitchen. But if he annoys you, this +young fool—” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure he does. He causes a disturbance in your hostelry, which +respectable people cannot put up with. Go; make out my bill and notify my +servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, monsieur, will you leave us so soon?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know that very well, as I gave my order to saddle my horse. Have they not +obeyed me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is done; as your Excellency may have observed, your horse is in the great +gateway, ready saddled for your departure.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well; do as I have directed you, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil!” said the host to himself. “Can he be afraid of this boy?” But +an imperious glance from the stranger stopped him short; he bowed humbly and +retired. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not necessary for Milady* to be seen by this fellow,” continued the +stranger. “She will soon pass; she is already late. I had better get on +horseback, and go and meet her. I should like, however, to know what this +letter addressed to Tréville contains.” And the stranger, muttering to himself, +directed his steps toward the kitchen. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* We are well aware that this term, milady, is only properly used when followed +by a family name. But we find it thus in the manuscript, and we do not choose +to take upon ourselves to alter it. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, the host, who entertained no doubt that it was the presence of +the young man that drove the stranger from his hostelry, re-ascended to his +wife’s chamber, and found D’Artagnan just recovering his senses. Giving him to +understand that the police would deal with him pretty severely for having +sought a quarrel with a great lord—for in the opinion of the host the +stranger could be nothing less than a great lord—he insisted that +notwithstanding his weakness D’Artagnan should get up and depart as quickly as +possible. D’Artagnan, half stupefied, without his doublet, and with his head +bound up in a linen cloth, arose then, and urged by the host, began to descend +the stairs; but on arriving at the kitchen, the first thing he saw was his +antagonist talking calmly at the step of a heavy carriage, drawn by two large +Norman horses. +</p> + +<p> +His interlocutor, whose head appeared through the carriage window, was a woman +of from twenty to two-and-twenty years. We have already observed with what +rapidity D’Artagnan seized the expression of a countenance. He perceived then, +at a glance, that this woman was young and beautiful; and her style of beauty +struck him more forcibly from its being totally different from that of the +southern countries in which D’Artagnan had hitherto resided. She was pale and +fair, with long curls falling in profusion over her shoulders, had large, blue, +languishing eyes, rosy lips, and hands of alabaster. She was talking with great +animation with the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“His Eminence, then, orders me—” said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“To return instantly to England, and to inform him as soon as the duke leaves +London.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as to my other instructions?” asked the fair traveler. +</p> + +<p> +“They are contained in this box, which you will not open until you are on the +other side of the Channel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; and you—what will you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I return to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, without chastising this insolent boy?” asked the lady. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger was about to reply; but at the moment he opened his mouth, +D’Artagnan, who had heard all, precipitated himself over the threshold of the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“This insolent boy chastises others,” cried he; “and I hope that this time he +whom he ought to chastise will not escape him as before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not escape him?” replied the stranger, knitting his brow. +</p> + +<p> +“No; before a woman you would dare not fly, I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember,” said Milady, seeing the stranger lay his hand on his sword, “the +least delay may ruin everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” cried the gentleman; “begone then, on your part, and I will +depart as quickly on mine.” And bowing to the lady, he sprang into his saddle, +while her coachman applied his whip vigorously to his horses. The two +interlocutors thus separated, taking opposite directions, at full gallop. +</p> + +<p> +“Pay him, booby!” cried the stranger to his servant, without checking the speed +of his horse; and the man, after throwing two or three silver pieces at the +foot of mine host, galloped after his master. +</p> + +<p> +“Base coward! false gentleman!” cried D’Artagnan, springing forward, in his +turn, after the servant. But his wound had rendered him too weak to support +such an exertion. Scarcely had he gone ten steps when his ears began to tingle, +a faintness seized him, a cloud of blood passed over his eyes, and he fell in +the middle of the street, crying still, “Coward! coward! coward!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a coward, indeed,” grumbled the host, drawing near to D’Artagnan, and +endeavoring by this little flattery to make up matters with the young man, as +the heron of the fable did with the snail he had despised the evening before. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a base coward,” murmured D’Artagnan; “but she—she was very +beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>she?</i>” demanded the host. +</p> + +<p> +“Milady,” faltered D’Artagnan, and fainted a second time. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, it’s all one,” said the host; “I have lost two customers, but this one +remains, of whom I am pretty certain for some days to come. There will be +eleven crowns gained.” +</p> + +<p> +It is to be remembered that eleven crowns was just the sum that remained in +D’Artagnan’s purse. +</p> + +<p> +The host had reckoned upon eleven days of confinement at a crown a day, but he +had reckoned without his guest. On the following morning at five o’clock +D’Artagnan arose, and descending to the kitchen without help, asked, among +other ingredients the list of which has not come down to us, for some oil, some +wine, and some rosemary, and with his mother’s recipe in his hand composed a +balsam, with which he anointed his numerous wounds, replacing his bandages +himself, and positively refusing the assistance of any doctor, D’Artagnan +walked about that same evening, and was almost cured by the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +But when the time came to pay for his rosemary, this oil, and the wine, the +only expense the master had incurred, as he had preserved a strict +abstinence—while on the contrary, the yellow horse, by the account of the +hostler at least, had eaten three times as much as a horse of his size could +reasonably be supposed to have done—D’Artagnan found nothing in his +pocket but his little old velvet purse with the eleven crowns it contained; for +as to the letter addressed to M. de Tréville, it had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +The young man commenced his search for the letter with the greatest patience, +turning out his pockets of all kinds over and over again, rummaging and +rerummaging in his valise, and opening and reopening his purse; but when he +found that he had come to the conviction that the letter was not to be found, +he flew, for the third time, into such a rage as was near costing him a fresh +consumption of wine, oil, and rosemary—for upon seeing this hot-headed +youth become exasperated and threaten to destroy everything in the +establishment if his letter were not found, the host seized a spit, his wife a +broom handle, and the servants the same sticks they had used the day before. +</p> + +<p> +“My letter of recommendation!” cried D’Artagnan, “my letter of recommendation! +or, the holy blood, I will spit you all like ortolans!” +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately, there was one circumstance which created a powerful obstacle to +the accomplishment of this threat; which was, as we have related, that his +sword had been in his first conflict broken in two, and which he had entirely +forgotten. Hence, it resulted when D’Artagnan proceeded to draw his sword in +earnest, he found himself purely and simply armed with a stump of a sword about +eight or ten inches in length, which the host had carefully placed in the +scabbard. As to the rest of the blade, the master had slyly put that on one +side to make himself a larding pin. +</p> + +<p> +But this deception would probably not have stopped our fiery young man if the +host had not reflected that the reclamation which his guest made was perfectly +just. +</p> + +<p> +“But, after all,” said he, lowering the point of his spit, “where is this +letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, where is this letter?” cried D’Artagnan. “In the first place, I warn you +that that letter is for Monsieur de Tréville, and it must be found, or if it is +not found, he will know how to find it.” +</p> + +<p> +His threat completed the intimidation of the host. After the king and the +cardinal, M. de Tréville was the man whose name was perhaps most frequently +repeated by the military, and even by citizens. There was, to be sure, Father +Joseph, but his name was never pronounced but with a subdued voice, such was +the terror inspired by his Gray Eminence, as the cardinal’s familiar was +called. +</p> + +<p> +Throwing down his spit, and ordering his wife to do the same with her broom +handle, and the servants with their sticks, he set the first example of +commencing an earnest search for the lost letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Does the letter contain anything valuable?” demanded the host, after a few +minutes of useless investigation. +</p> + +<p> +“Zounds! I think it does indeed!” cried the Gascon, who reckoned upon this +letter for making his way at court. “It contained my fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bills upon Spain?” asked the disturbed host. +</p> + +<p> +“Bills upon his Majesty’s private treasury,” answered D’Artagnan, who, +reckoning upon entering into the king’s service in consequence of this +recommendation, believed he could make this somewhat hazardous reply without +telling of a falsehood. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” cried the host, at his wits’ end. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s of no importance,” continued D’Artagnan, with natural assurance; +“it’s of no importance. The money is nothing; that letter was everything. I +would rather have lost a thousand pistoles than have lost it.” He would not +have risked more if he had said twenty thousand; but a certain juvenile modesty +restrained him. +</p> + +<p> +A ray of light all at once broke upon the mind of the host as he was giving +himself to the devil upon finding nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“That letter is not lost!” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it has been stolen from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stolen? By whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the gentleman who was here yesterday. He came down into the kitchen, where +your doublet was. He remained there some time alone. I would lay a wager he has +stolen it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” answered D’Artagnan, but little convinced, as he knew better +than anyone else how entirely personal the value of this letter was, and saw +nothing in it likely to tempt cupidity. The fact was that none of his servants, +none of the travelers present, could have gained anything by being possessed of +this paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you say,” resumed D’Artagnan, “that you suspect that impertinent +gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I am sure of it,” continued the host. “When I informed him that +your lordship was the <i>protégé</i> of Monsieur de Tréville, and that you even +had a letter for that illustrious gentleman, he appeared to be very much +disturbed, and asked me where that letter was, and immediately came down into +the kitchen, where he knew your doublet was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s my thief,” replied D’Artagnan. “I will complain to Monsieur de +Tréville, and Monsieur de Tréville will complain to the king.” He then drew two +crowns majestically from his purse and gave them to the host, who accompanied +him, cap in hand, to the gate, and remounted his yellow horse, which bore him +without any further accident to the gate of St. Antoine at Paris, where his +owner sold him for three crowns, which was a very good price, considering that +D’Artagnan had ridden him hard during the last stage. Thus the dealer to whom +D’Artagnan sold him for the nine livres did not conceal from the young man that +he only gave that enormous sum for him on the account of the originality of his +color. +</p> + +<p> +Thus D’Artagnan entered Paris on foot, carrying his little packet under his +arm, and walked about till he found an apartment to be let on terms suited to +the scantiness of his means. This chamber was a sort of garret, situated in the +Rue des Fossoyeurs, near the Luxembourg. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the earnest money was paid, D’Artagnan took possession of his +lodging, and passed the remainder of the day in sewing onto his doublet and +hose some ornamental braiding which his mother had taken off an almost-new +doublet of the elder M. d’Artagnan, and which she had given her son secretly. +Next he went to the Quai de Feraille to have a new blade put to his sword, and +then returned toward the Louvre, inquiring of the first Musketeer he met for +the situation of the hôtel of M. de Tréville, which proved to be in the Rue du +Vieux-Colombier; that is to say, in the immediate vicinity of the chamber hired +by D’Artagnan—a circumstance which appeared to furnish a happy augury for +the success of his journey. +</p> + +<p> +After this, satisfied with the way in which he had conducted himself at Meung, +without remorse for the past, confident in the present, and full of hope for +the future, he retired to bed and slept the sleep of the brave. +</p> + +<p> +This sleep, provincial as it was, brought him to nine o’clock in the morning; +at which hour he rose, in order to repair to the residence of M. de Tréville, +the third personage in the kingdom, in the paternal estimation. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>Chapter II.<br/> +THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TRÉVILLE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M.</span><span +class="dropspan"> de Troisville, as</span> his family was still called in +Gascony, or M. de Tréville, as he has ended by styling himself in Paris, had +really commenced life as D’Artagnan now did; that is to say, without a sou in +his pocket, but with a fund of audacity, shrewdness, and intelligence which +makes the poorest Gascon gentleman often derive more in his hope from the +paternal inheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentleman +derives in reality from his. His insolent bravery, his still more insolent +success at a time when blows poured down like hail, had borne him to the top of +that difficult ladder called Court Favor, which he had climbed four steps at a +time. +</p> + +<p> +He was the friend of the king, who honored highly, as everyone knows, the +memory of his father, Henry IV. The father of M. de Tréville had served him so +faithfully in his wars against the league that in default of money—a +thing to which the Béarnais was accustomed all his life, and who constantly +paid his debts with that of which he never stood in need of borrowing, that is +to say, with ready wit—in default of money, we repeat, he authorized him, +after the reduction of Paris, to assume for his arms a golden lion passant upon +gules, with the motto <i>Fidelis et fortis</i>. This was a great matter in the +way of honor, but very little in the way of wealth; so that when the +illustrious companion of the great Henry died, the only inheritance he was able +to leave his son was his sword and his motto. Thanks to this double gift and +the spotless name that accompanied it, M. de Tréville was admitted into the +household of the young prince where he made such good use of his sword, and was +so faithful to his motto, that Louis XIII., one of the good blades of his +kingdom, was accustomed to say that if he had a friend who was about to fight, +he would advise him to choose as a second, himself first, and Tréville +next—or even, perhaps, before himself. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Louis XIII. had a real liking for Tréville—a royal liking, a +self-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that unhappy period +it was an important consideration to be surrounded by such men as Tréville. +Many might take for their device the epithet <i>strong</i>, which formed the +second part of his motto, but very few gentlemen could lay claim to the +<i>faithful</i>, which constituted the first. Tréville was one of these latter. +His was one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedient intelligence +like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quick eye, and a prompt hand; to +whom sight appeared only to be given to see if the king were dissatisfied with +anyone, and the hand to strike this displeasing personage, whether a Besme, a +Maurevers, a Poltiot de Méré, or a Vitry. In short, up to this period nothing +had been wanting to Tréville but opportunity; but he was ever on the watch for +it, and he faithfully promised himself that he would not fail to seize it by +its three hairs whenever it came within reach of his hand. At last Louis XIII. +made Tréville the captain of his Musketeers, who were to Louis XIII. in +devotedness, or rather in fanaticism, what his Ordinaries had been to Henry +III., and his Scotch Guard to Louis XI. +</p> + +<p> +On his part, the cardinal was not behind the king in this respect. When he saw +the formidable and chosen body with which Louis XIII. had surrounded himself, +this second, or rather this first king of France, became desirous that he, too, +should have his guard. He had his Musketeers therefore, as Louis XIII. had his, +and these two powerful rivals vied with each other in procuring, not only from +all the provinces of France, but even from all foreign states, the most +celebrated swordsmen. It was not uncommon for Richelieu and Louis XIII. to +dispute over their evening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. +Each boasted the bearing and the courage of his own people. While exclaiming +loudly against duels and brawls, they excited them secretly to quarrel, +deriving an immoderate satisfaction or genuine regret from the success or +defeat of their own combatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a man who was +concerned in some few of these defeats and in many of these victories. +</p> + +<p> +Tréville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was to this address +that he owed the long and constant favor of a king who has not left the +reputation behind him of being very faithful in his friendships. He paraded his +Musketeers before the Cardinal Armand Duplessis with an insolent air which made +the gray moustache of his Eminence curl with ire. Tréville understood admirably +the war method of that period, in which he who could not live at the expense of +the enemy must live at the expense of his compatriots. His soldiers formed a +legion of devil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all but +himself. +</p> + +<p> +Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the king’s Musketeers, or rather M. de Tréville’s, +spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the public walks, and the public +sports, shouting, twisting their mustaches, clanking their swords, and taking +great pleasure in annoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall +in with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the best of all +possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that case to be both wept and +avenged; often killing others, but then certain of not rotting in prison, M. de +Tréville being there to claim them. Thus M. de Tréville was praised to the +highest note by these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were, +trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedient to his least +word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out the smallest insult. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in the first place, +and the friends of the king—and then for himself and his own friends. For +the rest, in the memoirs of this period, which has left so many memoirs, one +does not find this worthy gentleman blamed even by his enemies; and he had many +such among men of the pen as well as among men of the sword. In no instance, +let us say, was this worthy gentleman accused of deriving personal advantage +from the cooperation of his minions. Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue +which rendered him the equal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest +man. Still further, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful +exercises which fatigue, he had become one of the most gallant frequenters of +revels, one of the most insinuating lady’s men, one of the softest whisperers +of interesting nothings of his day; the <i>bonnes fortunes</i> of de Tréville +were talked of as those of M. de Bassompierre had been talked of twenty years +before, and that was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketeers was +therefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes the zenith of human +fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIV. absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his own vast radiance; +but his father, a sun <i>pluribus impar</i>, left his personal splendor to each +of his favorites, his individual value to each of his courtiers. In addition to +the levees of the king and the cardinal, there might be reckoned in Paris at +that time more than two hundred smaller but still noteworthy levees. Among +these two hundred levees, that of Tréville was one of the most sought. +</p> + +<p> +The court of his hôtel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier, resembled a +camp from by six o’clock in the morning in summer and eight o’clock in winter. +From fifty to sixty Musketeers, who appeared to replace one another in order +always to present an imposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth +and ready for anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon whose space +modern civilization would build a whole house, ascended and descended the +office seekers of Paris, who ran after any sort of favor—gentlemen from +the provinces anxious to be enrolled, and servants in all sorts of liveries, +bringing and carrying messages between their masters and M. de Tréville. In the +antechamber, upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is to say, +those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzing prevailed from +morning till night, while M. de Tréville, in his office contiguous to this +antechamber, received visits, listened to complaints, gave his orders, and like +the king in his balcony at the Louvre, had only to place himself at the window +to review both his men and arms. +</p> + +<p> +The day on which D’Artagnan presented himself the assemblage was imposing, +particularly for a provincial just arriving from his province. It is true that +this provincial was a Gascon; and that, particularly at this period, the +compatriots of D’Artagnan had the reputation of not being easily intimidated. +When he had once passed the massive door covered with long square-headed nails, +he fell into the midst of a troop of swordsmen, who crossed one another in +their passage, calling out, quarreling, and playing tricks one with another. In +order to make one’s way amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was +necessary to be an officer, a great noble, or a pretty woman. +</p> + +<p> +It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that our young man +advanced with a beating heart, ranging his long rapier up his lanky leg, and +keeping one hand on the edge of his cap, with that half-smile of the +embarrassed provincial who wishes to put on a good face. When he had passed one +group he began to breathe more freely; but he could not help observing that +they turned round to look at him, and for the first time in his life +D’Artagnan, who had till that day entertained a very good opinion of himself, +felt ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four Musketeers on the +bottom steps, amusing themselves with the following exercise, while ten or +twelve of their comrades waited upon the landing place to take their turn in +the sport. +</p> + +<p> +One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in hand, prevented, or +at least endeavored to prevent, the three others from ascending. +</p> + +<p> +These three others fenced against him with their agile swords. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan at first took these weapons for foils, and believed them to be +buttoned; but he soon perceived by certain scratches that every weapon was +pointed and sharpened, and that at each of these scratches not only the +spectators, but even the actors themselves, laughed like so many madmen. +</p> + +<p> +He who at the moment occupied the upper step kept his adversaries marvelously +in check. A circle was formed around them. The conditions required that at +every hit the man touched should quit the game, yielding his turn for the +benefit of the adversary who had hit him. In five minutes three were slightly +wounded, one on the hand, another on the ear, by the defender of the stair, who +himself remained intact—a piece of skill which was worth to him, +according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of favor. +</p> + +<p> +However difficult it might be, or rather as he pretended it was, to astonish +our young traveler, this pastime really astonished him. He had seen in his +province—that land in which heads become so easily heated—a few of +the preliminaries of duels; but the daring of these four fencers appeared to +him the strongest he had ever heard of even in Gascony. He believed himself +transported into that famous country of giants into which Gulliver afterward +went and was so frightened; and yet he had not gained the goal, for there were +still the landing place and the antechamber. +</p> + +<p> +On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused themselves with stories +about women, and in the antechamber, with stories about the court. On the +landing D’Artagnan blushed; in the antechamber he trembled. His warm and fickle +imagination, which in Gascony had rendered him formidable to young +chambermaids, and even sometimes their mistresses, had never dreamed, even in +moments of delirium, of half the amorous wonders or a quarter of the feats of +gallantry which were here set forth in connection with names the best known and +with details the least concealed. But if his morals were shocked on the +landing, his respect for the cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber. +There, to his great astonishment, D’Artagnan heard the policy which made all +Europe tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as the private life of the +cardinal, which so many great nobles had been punished for trying to pry into. +That great man who was so revered by D’Artagnan the elder served as an object +of ridicule to the Musketeers of Tréville, who cracked their jokes upon his +bandy legs and his crooked back. Some sang ballads about Mme. d’Aguillon, his +mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, his niece; while others formed parties and plans +to annoy the pages and guards of the cardinal duke—all things which +appeared to D’Artagnan monstrous impossibilities. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, when the name of the king was now and then uttered unthinkingly +amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemed to close for a moment on +all these jeering mouths. They looked hesitatingly around them, and appeared to +doubt the thickness of the partition between them and the office of M. de +Tréville; but a fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation to his +Eminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and the light was not +withheld from any of his actions. +</p> + +<p> +“Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged,” thought the +terrified D’Artagnan, “and I, no doubt, with them; for from the moment I have +either listened to or heard them, I shall be held as an accomplice. What would +my good father say, who so strongly pointed out to me the respect due to the +cardinal, if he knew I was in the society of such pagans?” +</p> + +<p> +We have no need, therefore, to say that D’Artagnan dared not join in the +conversation, only he looked with all his eyes and listened with all his ears, +stretching his five senses so as to lose nothing; and despite his confidence on +the paternal admonitions, he felt himself carried by his tastes and led by his +instincts to praise rather than to blame the unheard-of things which were +taking place. +</p> + +<p> +Although he was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de Tréville’s courtiers, +and this his first appearance in that place, he was at length noticed, and +somebody came and asked him what he wanted. At this demand D’Artagnan gave his +name very modestly, emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged the servant +who had put the question to him to request a moment’s audience of M. de +Tréville—a request which the other, with an air of protection, promised +to transmit in due season. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, a little recovered from his first surprise, had now leisure to +study costumes and physiognomy. +</p> + +<p> +The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of great height and +haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiar as to attract general +attention. He did not wear the uniform cloak—which was not obligatory at +that epoch of less liberty but more independence—but a cerulean-blue +doublet, a little faded and worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked +in gold, which shone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of crimson +velvet fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, disclosing in front the +splendid baldric, from which was suspended a gigantic rapier. This Musketeer +had just come off guard, complained of having a cold, and coughed from time to +time affectedly. It was for this reason, as he said to those around him, that +he had put on his cloak; and while he spoke with a lofty air and twisted his +mustache disdainfully, all admired his embroidered baldric, and D’Artagnan more +than anyone. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have?” said the Musketeer. “This fashion is coming in. It is a +folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion. Besides, one must lay out one’s +inheritance somehow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Porthos!” cried one of his companions, “don’t try to make us believe you +obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was given to you by that +veiled lady I met you with the other Sunday, near the gate St. Honoré.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentleman, I bought it with the contents +of my own purse,” answered he whom they designated by the name Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; about in the same manner,” said another Musketeer, “that I bought this +new purse with what my mistress put into the old one.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true, though,” said Porthos; “and the proof is that I paid twelve +pistoles for it.” +</p> + +<p> +The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not true, Aramis?” said Porthos, turning toward another Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to his interrogator, who had +just designated him by the name of Aramis. He was a stout man, of about two- or +three-and-twenty, with an open, ingenuous countenance, a black, mild eye, and +cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. His delicate mustache marked a +perfectly straight line upon his upper lip; he appeared to dread to lower his +hands lest their veins should swell, and he pinched the tips of his ears from +time to time to preserve their delicate pink transparency. Habitually he spoke +little and slowly, bowed frequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, +which were fine and of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to take +great care. He answered the appeal of his friend by an affirmative nod of the +head. +</p> + +<p> +This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to the baldric. They +continued to admire it, but said no more about it; and with a rapid change of +thought, the conversation passed suddenly to another subject. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of the story Chalais’s esquire relates?” asked another +Musketeer, without addressing anyone in particular, but on the contrary +speaking to everybody. +</p> + +<p> +“And what does he say?” asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient tone. +</p> + +<p> +“He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the <i>âme damnée</i> of the +cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed Rochefort, thanks to his +disguise, had tricked Monsieur de Laigues, like a ninny as he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“A ninny, indeed!” said Porthos; “but is the matter certain?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had it from Aramis,” replied the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you knew it, Porthos,” said Aramis. “I told you of it yesterday. Let us +say no more about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more about it? That’s <i>your</i> opinion!” replied Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more about it! <i>Peste!</i> You come to your conclusions quickly. +What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, has his letters stolen from him +by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal—has, with the help of this spy +and thanks to this correspondence, Chalais’s throat cut, under the stupid +pretext that he wanted to kill the king and marry Monsieur to the queen! Nobody +knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday to the great +satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping with wonder at the news, you +come and tell us today, ‘Let us say no more about it.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it,” replied Aramis, +patiently. +</p> + +<p> +“This Rochefort,” cried Porthos, “if I were the esquire of poor Chalais, should +pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you—you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the Red Duke,” +replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!” cried Porthos, clapping his +hands and nodding his head. “The Red Duke is capital. I’ll circulate that +saying, be assured, my dear fellow. Who says this Aramis is not a wit? What a +misfortune it is you did not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbé +you would have made!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s only a temporary postponement,” replied Aramis; “I shall be one +someday. You very well know, Porthos, that I continue to study theology for +that purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will be one, as he says,” cried Porthos; “he will be one, sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sooner,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“He only waits for one thing to determine him to resume his cassock, which +hangs behind his uniform,” said another Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he waiting for?” asked another. +</p> + +<p> +“Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France.” +</p> + +<p> +“No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen,” said Porthos; “thank God the queen +is still of an age to give one!” +</p> + +<p> +“They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France,” replied Aramis, with a +significant smile which gave to this sentence, apparently so simple, a +tolerably scandalous meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong,” interrupted Porthos. “Your +wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if Monsieur de Tréville heard you, you +would repent of speaking thus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?” cried Aramis, from whose usually +mild eye a flash passed like lightning. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbé. Be one or the other, but not both,” +replied Porthos. “You know what Athos told you the other day; you eat at +everybody’s mess. Ah, don’t be angry, I beg of you, that would be useless; you +know what is agreed upon between you, Athos and me. You go to Madame +d’Aguillon’s, and you pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy’s, +the cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far advanced in the +good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don’t trouble yourself to reveal your +good luck; no one asks for your secret—all the world knows your +discretion. But since you possess that virtue, why the devil don’t you make use +of it with respect to her Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the king and the +cardinal, and how he likes; but the queen is sacred, and if anyone speaks of +her, let it be respectfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,” replied Aramis. +“You know I hate moralizing, except when it is done by Athos. As to you, good +sir, you wear too magnificent a baldric to be strong on that head. I will be an +abbé if it suits me. In the meanwhile I am a Musketeer; in that quality I say +what I please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that you weary me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis!” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” cried the surrounding group. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Tréville awaits Monsieur d’Artagnan,” cried a servant, throwing +open the door of the cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +At this announcement, during which the door remained open, everyone became +mute, and amid the general silence the young man crossed part of the length of +the antechamber, and entered the apartment of the captain of the Musketeers, +congratulating himself with all his heart at having so narrowly escaped the end +of this strange quarrel. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>Chapter III.<br/> +THE AUDIENCE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M.</span><span +class="dropspan"> de Tréville</span> was at the moment in rather ill-humor, +nevertheless he saluted the young man politely, who bowed to the very ground; +and he smiled on receiving D’Artagnan’s response, the Béarnese accent of which +recalled to him at the same time his youth and his country—a double +remembrance which makes a man smile at all ages; but stepping toward the +antechamber and making a sign to D’Artagnan with his hand, as if to ask his +permission to finish with others before he began with him, he called three +times, with a louder voice at each time, so that he ran through the intervening +tones between the imperative accent and the angry accent. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos! Porthos! Aramis!” +</p> + +<p> +The two Musketeers with whom we have already made acquaintance, and who +answered to the last of these three names, immediately quitted the group of +which they had formed a part, and advanced toward the cabinet, the door of +which closed after them as soon as they had entered. Their appearance, although +it was not quite at ease, excited by its carelessness, at once full of dignity +and submission, the admiration of D’Artagnan, who beheld in these two men +demigods, and in their leader an Olympian Jupiter, armed with all his thunders. +</p> + +<p> +When the two Musketeers had entered; when the door was closed behind them; when +the buzzing murmur of the antechamber, to which the summons which had been made +had doubtless furnished fresh food, had recommenced; when M. de Tréville had +three or four times paced in silence, and with a frowning brow, the whole +length of his cabinet, passing each time before Porthos and Aramis, who were as +upright and silent as if on parade—he stopped all at once full in front +of them, and covering them from head to foot with an angry look, “Do you know +what the king said to me,” cried he, “and that no longer ago than yesterday +evening—do you know, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the two Musketeers, after a moment’s silence, “no, sir, we do +not.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I hope that you will do us the honor to tell us,” added Aramis, in his +politest tone and with his most graceful bow. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me that he should henceforth recruit his Musketeers from among the +Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Guards of the cardinal! And why so?” asked Porthos, warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because he plainly perceives that his piquette* stands in need of being +enlivened by a mixture of good wine.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* A watered liquor, made from the second pressing of the grape. +</p> + +<p> +The two Musketeers reddened to the whites of their eyes. D’Artagnan did not +know where he was, and wished himself a hundred feet underground. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” continued M. de Tréville, growing warmer as he spoke, “and his +majesty was right; for, upon my honor, it is true that the Musketeers make but +a miserable figure at court. The cardinal related yesterday while playing with +the king, with an air of condolence very displeasing to me, that the day before +yesterday those <i>damned Musketeers</i>, those <i>daredevils</i>—he +dwelt upon those words with an ironical tone still more displeasing to +me—those <i>braggarts</i>, added he, glancing at me with his tiger-cat’s +eye, had made a riot in the Rue Férou in a cabaret, and that a party of his +Guards (I thought he was going to laugh in my face) had been forced to arrest +the rioters! <i>Morbleu!</i> You must know something about it. Arrest +Musketeers! You were among them—you were! Don’t deny it; you were +recognized, and the cardinal named you. But it’s all my fault; yes, it’s all my +fault, because it is myself who selects my men. You, Aramis, why the devil did +you ask me for a uniform when you would have been so much better in a cassock? +And you, Porthos, do you only wear such a fine golden baldric to suspend a +sword of straw from it? And Athos—I don’t see Athos. Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ill—” +</p> + +<p> +“Very ill, say you? And of what malady?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is feared that it may be the smallpox, sir,” replied Porthos, desirous of +taking his turn in the conversation; “and what is serious is that it will +certainly spoil his face.” +</p> + +<p> +“The smallpox! That’s a great story to tell me, Porthos! Sick of the smallpox +at his age! No, no; but wounded without doubt, killed, perhaps. Ah, if I knew! +S’blood! Messieurs Musketeers, I will not have this haunting of bad places, +this quarreling in the streets, this swordplay at the crossways; and above all, +I will not have occasion given for the cardinal’s Guards, who are brave, quiet, +skillful men who never put themselves in a position to be arrested, and who, +besides, never allow themselves to be arrested, to laugh at you! I am sure of +it—they would prefer dying on the spot to being arrested or taking back a +step. To save yourselves, to scamper away, to flee—that is good for the +king’s Musketeers!” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis trembled with rage. They could willingly have strangled M. +de Tréville, if, at the bottom of all this, they had not felt it was the great +love he bore them which made him speak thus. They stamped upon the carpet with +their feet; they bit their lips till the blood came, and grasped the hilts of +their swords with all their might. All without had heard, as we have said, +Athos, Porthos, and Aramis called, and had guessed, from M. de Tréville’s tone +of voice, that he was very angry about something. Ten curious heads were glued +to the tapestry and became pale with fury; for their ears, closely applied to +the door, did not lose a syllable of what he said, while their mouths repeated +as he went on, the insulting expressions of the captain to all the people in +the antechamber. In an instant, from the door of the cabinet to the street +gate, the whole hôtel was boiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! The king’s Musketeers are arrested by the Guards of the cardinal, are +they?” continued M. de Tréville, as furious at heart as his soldiers, but +emphasizing his words and plunging them, one by one, so to say, like so many +blows of a stiletto, into the bosoms of his auditors. “What! Six of his +Eminence’s Guards arrest six of his Majesty’s Musketeers! <i>Morbleu!</i> My +part is taken! I will go straight to the Louvre; I will give in my resignation +as captain of the king’s Musketeers to take a lieutenancy in the cardinal’s +Guards, and if he refuses me, <i>morbleu!</i> I will turn abbé.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words, the murmur without became an explosion; nothing was to be heard +but oaths and blasphemies. The <i>morbleus</i>, the <i>sang Dieus</i>, the +<i>morts touts les diables</i>, crossed one another in the air. D’Artagnan +looked for some tapestry behind which he might hide himself, and felt an +immense inclination to crawl under the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my Captain,” said Porthos, quite beside himself, “the truth is that we +were six against six. But we were not captured by fair means; and before we had +time to draw our swords, two of our party were dead, and Athos, grievously +wounded, was very little better. For you know Athos. Well, Captain, he +endeavored twice to get up, and fell again twice. And we did not +surrender—no! They dragged us away by force. On the way we escaped. As +for Athos, they believed him to be dead, and left him very quiet on the field +of battle, not thinking it worth the trouble to carry him away. That’s the +whole story. What the devil, Captain, one cannot win all one’s battles! The +great Pompey lost that of Pharsalia; and Francis the First, who was, as I have +heard say, as good as other folks, nevertheless lost the Battle of Pavia.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have the honor of assuring you that I killed one of them with his own +sword,” said Aramis; “for mine was broken at the first parry. Killed him, or +poniarded him, sir, as is most agreeable to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know that,” replied M. de Tréville, in a somewhat softened tone. +“The cardinal exaggerated, as I perceive.” +</p> + +<p> +“But pray, sir,” continued Aramis, who, seeing his captain become appeased, +ventured to risk a prayer, “do not say that Athos is wounded. He would be in +despair if that should come to the ears of the king; and as the wound is very +serious, seeing that after crossing the shoulder it penetrates into the chest, +it is to be feared—” +</p> + +<p> +At this instant the tapestry was raised and a noble and handsome head, but +frightfully pale, appeared under the fringe. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos!” cried the two Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos!” repeated M. de Tréville himself. +</p> + +<p> +“You have sent for me, sir,” said Athos to M. de Tréville, in a feeble yet +perfectly calm voice, “you have sent for me, as my comrades inform me, and I +have hastened to receive your orders. I am here; what do you want with me?” +</p> + +<p> +And at these words, the Musketeer, in irreproachable costume, belted as usual, +with a tolerably firm step, entered the cabinet. M. de Tréville, moved to the +bottom of his heart by this proof of courage, sprang toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to say to these gentlemen,” added he, “that I forbid my Musketeers +to expose their lives needlessly; for brave men are very dear to the king, and +the king knows that his Musketeers are the bravest on the earth. Your hand, +Athos!” +</p> + +<p> +And without waiting for the answer of the newcomer to this proof of affection, +M. de Tréville seized his right hand and pressed it with all his might, without +perceiving that Athos, whatever might be his self-command, allowed a slight +murmur of pain to escape him, and if possible, grew paler than he was before. +</p> + +<p> +The door had remained open, so strong was the excitement produced by the +arrival of Athos, whose wound, though kept as a secret, was known to all. A +burst of satisfaction hailed the last words of the captain; and two or three +heads, carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, appeared through the +openings of the tapestry. M. de Tréville was about to reprehend this breach of +the rules of etiquette, when he felt the hand of Athos, who had rallied all his +energies to contend against pain, at length overcome by it, fell upon the floor +as if he were dead. +</p> + +<p> +“A surgeon!” cried M. de Tréville, “mine! The king’s! The best! A surgeon! Or, +s’blood, my brave Athos will die!” +</p> + +<p> +At the cries of M. de Tréville, the whole assemblage rushed into the cabinet, +he not thinking to shut the door against anyone, and all crowded round the +wounded man. But all this eager attention might have been useless if the doctor +so loudly called for had not chanced to be in the hôtel. He pushed through the +crowd, approached Athos, still insensible, and as all this noise and commotion +inconvenienced him greatly, he required, as the first and most urgent thing, +that the Musketeer should be carried into an adjoining chamber. Immediately M. +de Tréville opened and pointed the way to Porthos and Aramis, who bore their +comrade in their arms. Behind this group walked the surgeon; and behind the +surgeon the door closed. +</p> + +<p> +The cabinet of M. de Tréville, generally held so sacred, became in an instant +the annex of the antechamber. Everyone spoke, harangued, and vociferated, +swearing, cursing, and consigning the cardinal and his Guards to all the +devils. +</p> + +<p> +An instant after, Porthos and Aramis re-entered, the surgeon and M. de Tréville +alone remaining with the wounded. +</p> + +<p> +At length, M. de Tréville himself returned. The injured man had recovered his +senses. The surgeon declared that the situation of the Musketeer had nothing in +it to render his friends uneasy, his weakness having been purely and simply +caused by loss of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Then M. de Tréville made a sign with his hand, and all retired except +D’Artagnan, who did not forget that he had an audience, and with the tenacity +of a Gascon remained in his place. +</p> + +<p> +When all had gone out and the door was closed, M. de Tréville, on turning +round, found himself alone with the young man. The event which had occurred had +in some degree broken the thread of his ideas. He inquired what was the will of +his persevering visitor. D’Artagnan then repeated his name, and in an instant +recovering all his remembrances of the present and the past, M. de Tréville +grasped the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” said he, smiling, “pardon me my dear compatriot, but I had wholly +forgotten you. But what help is there for it! A captain is nothing but a father +of a family, charged with even a greater responsibility than the father of an +ordinary family. Soldiers are big children; but as I maintain that the orders +of the king, and more particularly the orders of the cardinal, should be +executed—” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan could not restrain a smile. By this smile M. de Tréville judged that +he had not to deal with a fool, and changing the conversation, came straight to +the point. +</p> + +<p> +“I respected your father very much,” said he. “What can I do for the son? Tell +me quickly; my time is not my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, “on quitting Tarbes and coming hither, it was my +intention to request of you, in remembrance of the friendship which you have +not forgotten, the uniform of a Musketeer; but after all that I have seen +during the last two hours, I comprehend that such a favor is enormous, and +tremble lest I should not merit it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed a favor, young man,” replied M. de Tréville, “but it may not be +so far beyond your hopes as you believe, or rather as you appear to believe. +But his majesty’s decision is always necessary; and I inform you with regret +that no one becomes a Musketeer without the preliminary ordeal of several +campaigns, certain brilliant actions, or a service of two years in some other +regiment less favored than ours.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan bowed without replying, feeling his desire to don the Musketeer’s +uniform vastly increased by the great difficulties which preceded the +attainment of it. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued M. de Tréville, fixing upon his compatriot a look so piercing +that it might be said he wished to read the thoughts of his heart, “on account +of my old companion, your father, as I have said, I will do something for you, +young man. Our recruits from Béarn are not generally very rich, and I have no +reason to think matters have much changed in this respect since I left the +province. I dare say you have not brought too large a stock of money with you?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan drew himself up with a proud air which plainly said, “I ask alms of +no man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s very well, young man,” continued M. de Tréville, “that’s all very +well. I know these airs; I myself came to Paris with four crowns in my purse, +and would have fought with anyone who dared to tell me I was not in a condition +to purchase the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan’s bearing became still more imposing. Thanks to the sale of his +horse, he commenced his career with four more crowns than M. de Tréville +possessed at the commencement of his. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought, I say, then, to husband the means you have, however large the sum +may be; but you ought also to endeavor to perfect yourself in the exercises +becoming a gentleman. I will write a letter today to the Director of the Royal +Academy, and tomorrow he will admit you without any expense to yourself. Do not +refuse this little service. Our best-born and richest gentlemen sometimes +solicit it without being able to obtain it. You will learn horsemanship, +swordsmanship in all its branches, and dancing. You will make some desirable +acquaintances; and from time to time you can call upon me, just to tell me how +you are getting on, and to say whether I can be of further service to you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, stranger as he was to all the manners of a court, could not but +perceive a little coldness in this reception. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, sir,” said he, “I cannot but perceive how sadly I miss the letter of +introduction which my father gave me to present to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly am surprised,” replied M. de Tréville, “that you should undertake +so long a journey without that necessary passport, the sole resource of us poor +Béarnese.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had one, sir, and, thank God, such as I could wish,” cried D’Artagnan; “but +it was perfidiously stolen from me.” +</p> + +<p> +He then related the adventure of Meung, described the unknown gentleman with +the greatest minuteness, and all with a warmth and truthfulness that delighted +M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all very strange,” said M. de Tréville, after meditating a minute; +“you mentioned my name, then, aloud?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I certainly committed that imprudence; but why should I have done +otherwise? A name like yours must be as a buckler to me on my way. Judge if I +should not put myself under its protection.” +</p> + +<p> +Flattery was at that period very current, and M. de Tréville loved incense as +well as a king, or even a cardinal. He could not refrain from a smile of +visible satisfaction; but this smile soon disappeared, and returning to the +adventure of Meung, “Tell me,” continued he, “had not this gentlemen a slight +scar on his cheek?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, such a one as would be made by the grazing of a ball.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he not a fine-looking man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of lofty stature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of pale complexion and brown hair?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, that is he; how is it, sir, that you are acquainted with this man? +If I ever find him again—and I will find him, I swear, were it in hell!” +</p> + +<p> +“He was waiting for a woman,” continued Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“He departed immediately after having conversed for a minute with her whom he +awaited.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know not the subject of their conversation?” +</p> + +<p> +“He gave her a box, told her not to open it except in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was this woman English?” +</p> + +<p> +“He called her Milady.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he; it must be he!” murmured Tréville. “I believed him still at +Brussels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, if you know who this man is,” cried D’Artagnan, “tell me who he is, +and whence he is. I will then release you from all your promises—even +that of procuring my admission into the Musketeers; for before everything, I +wish to avenge myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beware, young man!” cried Tréville. “If you see him coming on one side of the +street, pass by on the other. Do not cast yourself against such a rock; he +would break you like glass.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will not prevent me,” replied D’Artagnan, “if ever I find him.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the meantime,” said Tréville, “seek him not—if I have a right to +advise you.” +</p> + +<p> +All at once the captain stopped, as if struck by a sudden suspicion. This great +hatred which the young traveler manifested so loudly for this man, who—a +rather improbable thing—had stolen his father’s letter from him—was +there not some perfidy concealed under this hatred? Might not this young man be +sent by his Eminence? Might he not have come for the purpose of laying a snare +for him? This pretended D’Artagnan—was he not an emissary of the +cardinal, whom the cardinal sought to introduce into Tréville’s house, to place +near him, to win his confidence, and afterward to ruin him as had been done in +a thousand other instances? He fixed his eyes upon D’Artagnan even more +earnestly than before. He was moderately reassured, however, by the aspect of +that countenance, full of astute intelligence and affected humility. “I know he +is a Gascon,” reflected he, “but he may be one for the cardinal as well as for +me. Let us try him.” +</p> + +<p> +“My friend,” said he, slowly, “I wish, as the son of an ancient +friend—for I consider this story of the lost letter perfectly +true—I wish, I say, in order to repair the coldness you may have remarked +in my reception of you, to discover to you the secrets of our policy. The king +and the cardinal are the best of friends; their apparent bickerings are only +feints to deceive fools. I am not willing that a compatriot, a handsome +cavalier, a brave youth, quite fit to make his way, should become the dupe of +all these artifices and fall into the snare after the example of so many others +who have been ruined by it. Be assured that I am devoted to both these +all-powerful masters, and that my earnest endeavors have no other aim than the +service of the king, and also the cardinal—one of the most illustrious +geniuses that France has ever produced. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, young man, regulate your conduct accordingly; and if you entertain, +whether from your family, your relations, or even from your instincts, any of +these enmities which we see constantly breaking out against the cardinal, bid +me adieu and let us separate. I will aid you in many ways, but without +attaching you to my person. I hope that my frankness at least will make you my +friend; for you are the only young man to whom I have hitherto spoken as I have +done to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Tréville said to himself: “If the cardinal has set this young fox upon me, he +will certainly not have failed—he, who knows how bitterly I execrate +him—to tell his spy that the best means of making his court to me is to +rail at him. Therefore, in spite of all my protestations, if it be as I +suspect, my cunning gossip will assure me that he holds his Eminence in +horror.” +</p> + +<p> +It, however, proved otherwise. D’Artagnan answered, with the greatest +simplicity: “I came to Paris with exactly such intentions. My father advised me +to stoop to nobody but the king, the cardinal, and yourself—whom he +considered the first three personages in France.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan added M. de Tréville to the others, as may be perceived; but he +thought this addition would do no harm. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the greatest veneration for the cardinal,” continued he, “and the most +profound respect for his actions. So much the better for me, sir, if you speak +to me, as you say, with frankness—for then you will do me the honor to +esteem the resemblance of our opinions; but if you have entertained any doubt, +as naturally you may, I feel that I am ruining myself by speaking the truth. +But I still trust you will not esteem me the less for it, and that is my object +beyond all others.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville was surprised to the greatest degree. So much penetration, so +much frankness, created admiration, but did not entirely remove his suspicions. +The more this young man was superior to others, the more he was to be dreaded +if he meant to deceive him. Nevertheless, he pressed D’Artagnan’s hand, and +said to him: “You are an honest youth; but at the present moment I can only do +for you that which I just now offered. My hôtel will be always open to you. +Hereafter, being able to ask for me at all hours, and consequently to take +advantage of all opportunities, you will probably obtain that which you +desire.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say,” replied D’Artagnan, “that you will wait until I have proved +myself worthy of it. Well, be assured,” added he, with the familiarity of a +Gascon, “you shall not wait long.” And he bowed in order to retire, and as if +he considered the future in his own hands. +</p> + +<p> +“But wait a minute,” said M. de Tréville, stopping him. “I promised you a +letter for the director of the Academy. Are you too proud to accept it, young +gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said D’Artagnan; “and I will guard it so carefully that I will be +sworn it shall arrive at its address, and woe be to him who shall attempt to +take it from me!” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville smiled at this flourish; and leaving his young man compatriot in +the embrasure of the window, where they had talked together, he seated himself +at a table in order to write the promised letter of recommendation. While he +was doing this, D’Artagnan, having no better employment, amused himself with +beating a march upon the window and with looking at the Musketeers, who went +away, one after another, following them with his eyes until they disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville, after having written the letter, sealed it, and rising, +approached the young man in order to give it to him. But at the very moment +when D’Artagnan stretched out his hand to receive it, M. de Tréville was highly +astonished to see his <i>protégé</i> make a sudden spring, become crimson with +passion, and rush from the cabinet crying, “S’blood, he shall not escape me +this time!” +</p> + +<p> +“And who?” asked M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“He, my thief!” replied D’Artagnan. “Ah, the traitor!” and he disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take the madman!” murmured M. de Tréville, “unless,” added he, “this +is a cunning mode of escaping, seeing that he had failed in his purpose!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>Chapter IV.<br/> +THE SHOULDER OF ATHOS, THE BALDRIC OF PORTHOS AND THE HANDKERCHIEF OF +ARAMIS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span>, in a state of fury, crossed the antechamber +at three bounds, and was darting toward the stairs, which he reckoned upon +descending four at a time, when, in his heedless course, he ran head foremost +against a Musketeer who was coming out of one of M. de Tréville’s private +rooms, and striking his shoulder violently, made him utter a cry, or rather a +howl. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” said D’Artagnan, endeavoring to resume his course, “excuse me, but +I am in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had he descended the first stair, when a hand of iron seized him by +the belt and stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“You are in a hurry?” said the Musketeer, as pale as a sheet. “Under that +pretense you run against me! You say, ‘Excuse me,’ and you believe that is +sufficient? Not at all, my young man. Do you fancy because you have heard +Monsieur de Tréville speak to us a little cavalierly today that other people +are to treat us as he speaks to us? Undeceive yourself, comrade, you are not +Monsieur de Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith!” replied D’Artagnan, recognizing Athos, who, after the dressing +performed by the doctor, was returning to his own apartment. “I did not do it +intentionally, and not doing it intentionally, I said ‘Excuse me.’ It appears +to me that this is quite enough. I repeat to you, however, and this time on my +word of honor—I think perhaps too often—that I am in haste, great +haste. Leave your hold, then, I beg of you, and let me go where my business +calls me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Athos, letting him go, “you are not polite; it is easy to +perceive that you come from a distance.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had already strode down three or four stairs, but at Athos’s last +remark he stopped short. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Morbleu</i>, monsieur!” said he, “however far I may come, it is not you who +can give me a lesson in good manners, I warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! If I were not in such haste, and if I were not running after someone,” +said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Man-in-a-hurry, you can find me without running—<i>me</i>, you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“And where, I pray you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Near the Carmes-Deschaux.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“About noon.” +</p> + +<p> +“About noon? That will do; I will be there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Endeavor not to make me wait; for at quarter past twelve I will cut off your +ears as you run.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” cried D’Artagnan, “I will be there ten minutes before twelve.” And he +set off running as if the devil possessed him, hoping that he might yet find +the stranger, whose slow pace could not have carried him far. +</p> + +<p> +But at the street gate, Porthos was talking with the soldier on guard. Between +the two talkers there was just enough room for a man to pass. D’Artagnan +thought it would suffice for him, and he sprang forward like a dart between +them. But D’Artagnan had reckoned without the wind. As he was about to pass, +the wind blew out Porthos’s long cloak, and D’Artagnan rushed straight into the +middle of it. Without doubt, Porthos had reasons for not abandoning this part +of his vestments, for instead of quitting his hold on the flap in his hand, he +pulled it toward him, so that D’Artagnan rolled himself up in the velvet by a +movement of rotation explained by the persistency of Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, hearing the Musketeer swear, wished to escape from the cloak, which +blinded him, and sought to find his way from under the folds of it. He was +particularly anxious to avoid marring the freshness of the magnificent baldric +we are acquainted with; but on timidly opening his eyes, he found himself with +his nose fixed between the two shoulders of Porthos—that is to say, +exactly upon the baldric. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, like most things in this world which have nothing in their favor but +appearances, the baldric was glittering with gold in the front, but was nothing +but simple buff behind. Vainglorious as he was, Porthos could not afford to +have a baldric wholly of gold, but had at least half. One could comprehend the +necessity of the cold and the urgency of the cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me!” cried Porthos, making strong efforts to disembarrass himself of +D’Artagnan, who was wriggling about his back; “you must be mad to run against +people in this manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” said D’Artagnan, reappearing under the shoulder of the giant, “but +I am in such haste—I was running after someone and—” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you always forget your eyes when you run?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied D’Artagnan, piqued, “and thanks to my eyes, I can see what other +people cannot see.” +</p> + +<p> +Whether Porthos understood him or did not understand him, giving way to his +anger, “Monsieur,” said he, “you stand a chance of getting chastised if you rub +Musketeers in this fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chastised, Monsieur!” said D’Artagnan, “the expression is strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is one that becomes a man accustomed to look his enemies in the face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>pardieu!</i> I know full well that you don’t turn your back to yours.” +</p> + +<p> +And the young man, delighted with his joke, went away laughing loudly. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos foamed with rage, and made a movement to rush after D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently, presently,” cried the latter, “when you haven’t your cloak on.” +</p> + +<p> +“At one o’clock, then, behind the Luxembourg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, at one o’clock, then,” replied D’Artagnan, turning the angle of the +street. +</p> + +<p> +But neither in the street he had passed through, nor in the one which his eager +glance pervaded, could he see anyone; however slowly the stranger had walked, +he was gone on his way, or perhaps had entered some house. D’Artagnan inquired +of everyone he met with, went down to the ferry, came up again by the Rue de +Seine, and the Red Cross; but nothing, absolutely nothing! This chase was, +however, advantageous to him in one sense, for in proportion as the +perspiration broke from his forehead, his heart began to cool. +</p> + +<p> +He began to reflect upon the events that had passed; they were numerous and +inauspicious. It was scarcely eleven o’clock in the morning, and yet this +morning had already brought him into disgrace with M. de Tréville, who could +not fail to think the manner in which D’Artagnan had left him a little +cavalier. +</p> + +<p> +Besides this, he had drawn upon himself two good duels with two men, each +capable of killing three D’Artagnans—with two Musketeers, in short, with +two of those beings whom he esteemed so greatly that he placed them in his mind +and heart above all other men. +</p> + +<p> +The outlook was sad. Sure of being killed by Athos, it may easily be understood +that the young man was not very uneasy about Porthos. As hope, however, is the +last thing extinguished in the heart of man, he finished by hoping that he +might survive, even though with terrible wounds, in both these duels; and in +case of surviving, he made the following reprehensions upon his own conduct: +</p> + +<p> +“What a madcap I was, and what a stupid fellow I am! That brave and unfortunate +Athos was wounded on that very shoulder against which I must run head foremost, +like a ram. The only thing that astonishes me is that he did not strike me dead +at once. He had good cause to do so; the pain I gave him must have been +atrocious. As to Porthos—oh, as to Porthos, faith, that’s a droll +affair!” +</p> + +<p> +And in spite of himself, the young man began to laugh aloud, looking round +carefully, however, to see that his solitary laugh, without a cause in the eyes +of passers-by, offended no one. +</p> + +<p> +“As to Porthos, that is certainly droll; but I am not the less a giddy fool. +Are people to be run against without warning? No! And have I any right to go +and peep under their cloaks to see what is not there? He would have pardoned +me, he would certainly have pardoned me, if I had not said anything to him +about that cursed baldric—in ambiguous words, it is true, but rather +drolly ambiguous. Ah, cursed Gascon that I am, I get from one hobble into +another. Friend D’Artagnan,” continued he, speaking to himself with all the +amenity that he thought due himself, “if you escape, of which there is not much +chance, I would advise you to practice perfect politeness for the future. You +must henceforth be admired and quoted as a model of it. To be obliging and +polite does not necessarily make a man a coward. Look at Aramis, now; Aramis is +mildness and grace personified. Well, did anybody ever dream of calling Aramis +a coward? No, certainly not, and from this moment I will endeavor to model +myself after him. Ah! That’s strange! Here he is!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, walking and soliloquizing, had arrived within a few steps of the +hôtel d’Arguillon and in front of that hôtel perceived Aramis, chatting gaily +with three gentlemen; but as he had not forgotten that it was in presence of +this young man that M. de Tréville had been so angry in the morning, and as a +witness of the rebuke the Musketeers had received was not likely to be at all +agreeable, he pretended not to see him. D’Artagnan, on the contrary, quite full +of his plans of conciliation and courtesy, approached the young men with a +profound bow, accompanied by a most gracious smile. All four, besides, +immediately broke off their conversation. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was not so dull as not to perceive that he was one too many; but he +was not sufficiently broken into the fashions of the gay world to know how to +extricate himself gallantly from a false position, like that of a man who +begins to mingle with people he is scarcely acquainted with and in a +conversation that does not concern him. He was seeking in his mind, then, for +the least awkward means of retreat, when he remarked that Aramis had let his +handkerchief fall, and by mistake, no doubt, had placed his foot upon it. This +appeared to be a favorable opportunity to repair his intrusion. He stooped, and +with the most gracious air he could assume, drew the handkerchief from under +the foot of the Musketeer in spite of the efforts the latter made to detain it, +and holding it out to him, said, “I believe, monsieur, that this is a +handkerchief you would be sorry to lose?” +</p> + +<p> +The handkerchief was indeed richly embroidered, and had a coronet and arms at +one of its corners. Aramis blushed excessively, and snatched rather than took +the handkerchief from the hand of the Gascon. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” cried one of the Guards, “will you persist in saying, most discreet +Aramis, that you are not on good terms with Madame de Bois-Tracy, when that +gracious lady has the kindness to lend you one of her handkerchiefs?” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis darted at D’Artagnan one of those looks which inform a man that he has +acquired a mortal enemy. Then, resuming his mild air, “You are deceived, +gentlemen,” said he, “this handkerchief is not mine, and I cannot fancy why +Monsieur has taken it into his head to offer it to me rather than to one of +you; and as a proof of what I say, here is mine in my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he pulled out his own handkerchief, likewise a very elegant +handkerchief, and of fine cambric—though cambric was dear at the +period—but a handkerchief without embroidery and without arms, only +ornamented with a single cipher, that of its proprietor. +</p> + +<p> +This time D’Artagnan was not hasty. He perceived his mistake; but the friends +of Aramis were not at all convinced by his denial, and one of them addressed +the young Musketeer with affected seriousness. “If it were as you pretend it +is,” said he, “I should be forced, my dear Aramis, to reclaim it myself; for, +as you very well know, Bois-Tracy is an intimate friend of mine, and I cannot +allow the property of his wife to be sported as a trophy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You make the demand badly,” replied Aramis; “and while acknowledging the +justice of your reclamation, I refuse it on account of the form.” +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is,” hazarded D’Artagnan, timidly, “I did not see the handkerchief +fall from the pocket of Monsieur Aramis. He had his foot upon it, that is all; +and I thought from having his foot upon it the handkerchief was his.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you were deceived, my dear sir,” replied Aramis, coldly, very little +sensible to the reparation. Then turning toward that one of the guards who had +declared himself the friend of Bois-Tracy, “Besides,” continued he, “I have +reflected, my dear intimate of Bois-Tracy, that I am not less tenderly his +friend than you can possibly be; so that decidedly this handkerchief is as +likely to have fallen from your pocket as mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, upon my honor!” cried his Majesty’s Guardsman. +</p> + +<p> +“You are about to swear upon your honor and I upon my word, and then it will be +pretty evident that one of us will have lied. Now, here, Montaran, we will do +better than that—let each take a half.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the handkerchief?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly just,” cried the other two Guardsmen, “the judgment of King Solomon! +Aramis, you certainly are full of wisdom!” +</p> + +<p> +The young men burst into a laugh, and as may be supposed, the affair had no +other sequel. In a moment or two the conversation ceased, and the three +Guardsmen and the Musketeer, after having cordially shaken hands, separated, +the Guardsmen going one way and Aramis another. +</p> + +<p> +“Now is my time to make peace with this gallant man,” said D’Artagnan to +himself, having stood on one side during the whole of the latter part of the +conversation; and with this good feeling drawing near to Aramis, who was +departing without paying any attention to him, “Monsieur,” said he, “you will +excuse me, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur,” interrupted Aramis, “permit me to observe to you that you have +not acted in this affair as a gallant man ought.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, monsieur!” cried D’Artagnan, “and do you suppose—” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose, monsieur, that you are not a fool, and that you knew very well, +although coming from Gascony, that people do not tread upon handkerchiefs +without a reason. What the devil! Paris is not paved with cambric!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you act wrongly in endeavoring to mortify me,” said D’Artagnan, in +whom the natural quarrelsome spirit began to speak more loudly than his pacific +resolutions. “I am from Gascony, it is true; and since you know it, there is no +occasion to tell you that Gascons are not very patient, so that when they have +begged to be excused once, were it even for a folly, they are convinced that +they have done already at least as much again as they ought to have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, what I say to you about the matter,” said Aramis, “is not for the +sake of seeking a quarrel. Thank God, I am not a bravo! And being a Musketeer +but for a time, I only fight when I am forced to do so, and always with great +repugnance; but this time the affair is serious, for here is a lady compromised +by you.” +</p> + +<p> +“By <i>us</i>, you mean!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you so maladroitly restore me the handkerchief?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you so awkwardly let it fall?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have said, monsieur, and I repeat, that the handkerchief did not fall from +my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“And thereby you have lied twice, monsieur, for I saw it fall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you take it with that tone, do you, Master Gascon? Well, I will teach you +how to behave yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I will send you back to your Mass book, Master Abbé. Draw, if you please, +and instantly—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, if you please, my good friend—not here, at least. Do you not +perceive that we are opposite the Hôtel d’Arguillon, which is full of the +cardinal’s creatures? How do I know that this is not his Eminence who has +honored you with the commission to procure my head? Now, I entertain a +ridiculous partiality for my head, it seems to suit my shoulders so correctly. +I wish to kill you, be at rest as to that, but to kill you quietly in a snug, +remote place, where you will not be able to boast of your death to anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree, monsieur; but do not be too confident. Take your handkerchief; +whether it belongs to you or another, you may perhaps stand in need of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur is a Gascon?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Monsieur does not postpone an interview through prudence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Prudence, monsieur, is a virtue sufficiently useless to Musketeers, I know, +but indispensable to churchmen; and as I am only a Musketeer provisionally, I +hold it good to be prudent. At two o’clock I shall have the honor of expecting +you at the hôtel of Monsieur de Tréville. There I will indicate to you the best +place and time.” +</p> + +<p> +The two young men bowed and separated, Aramis ascending the street which led to +the Luxembourg, while D’Artagnan, perceiving the appointed hour was +approaching, took the road to the Carmes-Deschaux, saying to himself, +“Decidedly I can’t draw back; but at least, if I am killed, I shall be killed +by a Musketeer.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>Chapter V.<br/> +THE KING’S MUSKETEERS AND THE CARDINAL’S GUARDS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> was acquainted with nobody in Paris. He went +therefore to his appointment with Athos without a second, determined to be +satisfied with those his adversary should choose. Besides, his intention was +formed to make the brave Musketeer all suitable apologies, but without meanness +or weakness, fearing that might result from this duel which generally results +from an affair of this kind, when a young and vigorous man fights with an +adversary who is wounded and weakened—if conquered, he doubles the +triumph of his antagonist; if a conqueror, he is accused of foul play and want +of courage. +</p> + +<p> +Now, we must have badly painted the character of our adventure seeker, or our +readers must have already perceived that D’Artagnan was not an ordinary man; +therefore, while repeating to himself that his death was inevitable, he did not +make up his mind to die quietly, as one less courageous and less restrained +might have done in his place. He reflected upon the different characters of +those with whom he was going to fight, and began to view his situation more +clearly. He hoped, by means of loyal excuses, to make a friend of Athos, whose +lordly air and austere bearing pleased him much. He flattered himself he should +be able to frighten Porthos with the adventure of the baldric, which he might, +if not killed upon the spot, relate to everybody a recital which, well managed, +would cover Porthos with ridicule. As to the astute Aramis, he did not +entertain much dread of him; and supposing he should be able to get so far, he +determined to dispatch him in good style or at least, by hitting him in the +face, as Cæsar recommended his soldiers do to those of Pompey, to damage +forever the beauty of which he was so proud. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to this, D’Artagnan possessed that invincible stock of resolution +which the counsels of his father had implanted in his heart: “Endure nothing +from anyone but the king, the cardinal, and Monsieur de Tréville.” He flew, +then, rather than walked, toward the convent of the Carmes Déchaussés, or +rather Deschaux, as it was called at that period, a sort of building without a +window, surrounded by barren fields—an accessory to the Preaux-Clercs, +and which was generally employed as the place for the duels of men who had no +time to lose. +</p> + +<p> +When D’Artagnan arrived in sight of the bare spot of ground which extended +along the foot of the monastery, Athos had been waiting about five minutes, and +twelve o’clock was striking. He was, then, as punctual as the Samaritan woman, +and the most rigorous casuist with regard to duels could have nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, who still suffered grievously from his wound, though it had been dressed +anew by M. de Tréville’s surgeon, was seated on a post and waiting for his +adversary with hat in hand, his feather even touching the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Athos, “I have engaged two of my friends as seconds; but these +two friends are not yet come, at which I am astonished, as it is not at all +their custom.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no seconds on my part, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan; “for having only +arrived yesterday in Paris, I as yet know no one but Monsieur de Tréville, to +whom I was recommended by my father, who has the honor to be, in some degree, +one of his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos reflected for an instant. “You know no one but Monsieur de Tréville?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, I know only him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but then,” continued Athos, speaking half to himself, “if I kill you, I +shall have the air of a boy-slayer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not too much so,” replied D’Artagnan, with a bow that was not deficient in +dignity, “since you do me the honor to draw a sword with me while suffering +from a wound which is very inconvenient.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very inconvenient, upon my word; and you hurt me devilishly, I can tell you. +But I will take the left hand—it is my custom in such circumstances. Do +not fancy that I do you a favor; I use either hand easily. And it will be even +a disadvantage to you; a left-handed man is very troublesome to people who are +not prepared for it. I regret I did not inform you sooner of this +circumstance.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have truly, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, bowing again, “a courtesy, for +which, I assure you, I am very grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“You confuse me,” replied Athos, with his gentlemanly air; “let us talk of +something else, if you please. Ah, s’blood, how you have hurt me! My shoulder +quite burns.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you would permit me—” said D’Artagnan, with timidity. +</p> + +<p> +“What, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a miraculous balsam for wounds—a balsam given to me by my mother +and of which I have made a trial upon myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am sure that in less than three days this balsam would cure you; and +at the end of three days, when you would be cured—well, sir, it would +still do me a great honor to be your man.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan spoke these words with a simplicity that did honor to his courtesy, +without throwing the least doubt upon his courage. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu</i>, monsieur!” said Athos, “that’s a proposition that pleases me; +not that I can accept it, but a league off it savors of the gentleman. Thus +spoke and acted the gallant knights of the time of Charlemagne, in whom every +cavalier ought to seek his model. Unfortunately, we do not live in the times of +the great emperor, we live in the times of the cardinal; and three days hence, +however well the secret might be guarded, it would be known, I say, that we +were to fight, and our combat would be prevented. I think these fellows will +never come.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are in haste, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, with the same simplicity with +which a moment before he had proposed to him to put off the duel for three +days, “and if it be your will to dispatch me at once, do not inconvenience +yourself, I pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another word which pleases me,” cried Athos, with a gracious nod to +D’Artagnan. “That did not come from a man without a heart. Monsieur, I love men +of your kidney; and I foresee plainly that if we don’t kill each other, I shall +hereafter have much pleasure in your conversation. We will wait for these +gentlemen, so please you; I have plenty of time, and it will be more correct. +Ah, here is one of them, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, at the end of the Rue Vaugirard the gigantic Porthos appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried D’Artagnan, “is your first witness Monsieur Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that disturbs you?” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means.” +</p> + +<p> +“And here is the second.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan turned in the direction pointed to by Athos, and perceived Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried he, in an accent of greater astonishment than before, “your +second witness is Monsieur Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless! Are you not aware that we are never seen one without the others, +and that we are called among the Musketeers and the Guards, at court and in the +city, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, or the Three Inseparables? And yet, as you +come from Dax or Pau—” +</p> + +<p> +“From Tarbes,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“It is probable you are ignorant of this little fact,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith!” replied D’Artagnan, “you are well named, gentlemen; and my +adventure, if it should make any noise, will prove at least that your union is +not founded upon contrasts.” +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, Porthos had come up, waved his hand to Athos, and then turning +toward D’Artagnan, stood quite astonished. +</p> + +<p> +Let us say in passing that he had changed his baldric and relinquished his +cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said he, “what does this mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the gentleman I am going to fight with,” said Athos, pointing to +D’Artagnan with his hand and saluting him with the same gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it is with him I am also going to fight,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“But not before one o’clock,” replied D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And I also am to fight with this gentleman,” said Aramis, coming in his turn +onto the place. +</p> + +<p> +“But not until two o’clock,” said D’Artagnan, with the same calmness. +</p> + +<p> +“But what are you going to fight about, Athos?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Faith! I don’t very well know. He hurt my shoulder. And you, Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Faith! I am going to fight—because I am going to fight,” answered +Porthos, reddening. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, whose keen eye lost nothing, perceived a faintly sly smile pass over the +lips of the young Gascon as he replied, “We had a short discussion upon dress.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Aramis?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ours is a theological quarrel,” replied Aramis, making a sign to +D’Artagnan to keep secret the cause of their duel. +</p> + +<p> +Athos indeed saw a second smile on the lips of D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; a passage of St. Augustine, upon which we could not agree,” said the +Gascon. +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly, this is a clever fellow,” murmured Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“And now you are assembled, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “permit me to offer +you my apologies.” +</p> + +<p> +At this word <i>apologies</i>, a cloud passed over the brow of Athos, a haughty +smile curled the lip of Porthos, and a negative sign was the reply of Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand me, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, throwing up his head, +the sharp and bold lines of which were at the moment gilded by a bright ray of +the sun. “I asked to be excused in case I should not be able to discharge my +debt to all three; for Monsieur Athos has the right to kill me first, which +must much diminish the face-value of your bill, Monsieur Porthos, and render +yours almost null, Monsieur Aramis. And now, gentlemen, I repeat, excuse me, +but on that account only, and—on guard!” +</p> + +<p> +At these words, with the most gallant air possible, D’Artagnan drew his sword. +</p> + +<p> +The blood had mounted to the head of D’Artagnan, and at that moment he would +have drawn his sword against all the Musketeers in the kingdom as willingly as +he now did against Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +It was a quarter past midday. The sun was in its zenith, and the spot chosen +for the scene of the duel was exposed to its full ardor. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very hot,” said Athos, drawing his sword in its turn, “and yet I cannot +take off my doublet; for I just now felt my wound begin to bleed again, and I +should not like to annoy Monsieur with the sight of blood which he has not +drawn from me himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, Monsieur,” replied D’Artagnan, “and whether drawn by myself or +another, I assure you I shall always view with regret the blood of so brave a +gentleman. I will therefore fight in my doublet, like yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, enough of such compliments!” cried Porthos. “Remember, we are +waiting for our turns.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak for yourself when you are inclined to utter such incongruities,” +interrupted Aramis. “For my part, I think what they say is very well said, and +quite worthy of two gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you please, monsieur,” said Athos, putting himself on guard. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited your orders,” said D’Artagnan, crossing swords. +</p> + +<p> +But scarcely had the two rapiers clashed, when a company of the Guards of his +Eminence, commanded by M. de Jussac, turned the corner of the convent. +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal’s Guards!” cried Aramis and Porthos at the same time. “Sheathe +your swords, gentlemen, sheathe your swords!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was too late. The two combatants had been seen in a position which left +no doubt of their intentions. +</p> + +<p> +“Halloo!” cried Jussac, advancing toward them and making a sign to his men to +do so likewise, “halloo, Musketeers? Fighting here, are you? And the edicts? +What is become of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very generous, gentlemen of the Guards,” said Athos, full of rancor, +for Jussac was one of the aggressors of the preceding day. “If we were to see +you fighting, I can assure you that we would make no effort to prevent you. +Leave us alone, then, and you will enjoy a little amusement without cost to +yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Jussac, “it is with great regret that I pronounce the thing +impossible. Duty before everything. Sheathe, then, if you please, and follow +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Aramis, parodying Jussac, “it would afford us great pleasure +to obey your polite invitation if it depended upon ourselves; but unfortunately +the thing is impossible—Monsieur de Tréville has forbidden it. Pass on +your way, then; it is the best thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +This raillery exasperated Jussac. “We will charge upon you, then,” said he, “if +you disobey.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are five of them,” said Athos, half aloud, “and we are but three; we +shall be beaten again, and must die on the spot, for, on my part, I declare I +will never appear again before the captain as a conquered man.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos, Porthos, and Aramis instantly drew near one another, while Jussac drew +up his soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +This short interval was sufficient to determine D’Artagnan on the part he was +to take. It was one of those events which decide the life of a man; it was a +choice between the king and the cardinal—the choice made, it must be +persisted in. To fight, that was to disobey the law, that was to risk his head, +that was to make at one blow an enemy of a minister more powerful than the king +himself. All this the young man perceived, and yet, to his praise we speak it, +he did not hesitate a second. Turning towards Athos and his friends, +“Gentlemen,” said he, “allow me to correct your words, if you please. You said +you were but three, but it appears to me we are four.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are not one of us,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” replied D’Artagnan; “I have not the uniform, but I have the +spirit. My heart is that of a Musketeer; I feel it, monsieur, and that impels +me on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Withdraw, young man,” cried Jussac, who doubtless, by his gestures and the +expression of his countenance, had guessed D’Artagnan’s design. “You may +retire; we consent to that. Save your skin; begone quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan did not budge. +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly, you are a brave fellow,” said Athos, pressing the young man’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, choose your part,” replied Jussac. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos to Aramis, “we must do something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur is full of generosity,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +But all three reflected upon the youth of D’Artagnan, and dreaded his +inexperience. +</p> + +<p> +“We should only be three, one of whom is wounded, with the addition of a boy,” +resumed Athos; “and yet it will not be the less said we were four men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but to yield!” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“That <i>is</i> difficult,” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan comprehended their irresolution. +</p> + +<p> +“Try me, gentlemen,” said he, “and I swear to you by my honor that I will not +go hence if we are conquered.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name, my brave fellow?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D’Artagnan, forward!” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, gentlemen, have you decided?” cried Jussac for the third time. +</p> + +<p> +“It is done, gentlemen,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is your choice?” asked Jussac. +</p> + +<p> +“We are about to have the honor of charging you,” replied Aramis, lifting his +hat with one hand and drawing his sword with the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You resist, do you?” cried Jussac. +</p> + +<p> +“S’blood; does that astonish you?” +</p> + +<p> +And the nine combatants rushed upon each other with a fury which however did +not exclude a certain degree of method. +</p> + +<p> +Athos fixed upon a certain Cahusac, a favorite of the cardinal’s. Porthos had +Bicarat, and Aramis found himself opposed to two adversaries. As to D’Artagnan, +he sprang toward Jussac himself. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the young Gascon beat as if it would burst through his +side—not from fear, God be thanked, he had not the shade of it, but with +emulation; he fought like a furious tiger, turning ten times round his +adversary, and changing his ground and his guard twenty times. Jussac was, as +was then said, a fine blade, and had had much practice; nevertheless it +required all his skill to defend himself against an adversary who, active and +energetic, departed every instant from received rules, attacking him on all +sides at once, and yet parrying like a man who had the greatest respect for his +own epidermis. +</p> + +<p> +This contest at length exhausted Jussac’s patience. Furious at being held in +check by one whom he had considered a boy, he became warm and began to make +mistakes. D’Artagnan, who though wanting in practice had a sound theory, +redoubled his agility. Jussac, anxious to put an end to this, springing +forward, aimed a terrible thrust at his adversary, but the latter parried it; +and while Jussac was recovering himself, glided like a serpent beneath his +blade, and passed his sword through his body. Jussac fell like a dead mass. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then cast an anxious and rapid glance over the field of battle. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis had killed one of his adversaries, but the other pressed him warmly. +Nevertheless, Aramis was in a good situation, and able to defend himself. +</p> + +<p> +Bicarat and Porthos had just made counterhits. Porthos had received a thrust +through his arm, and Bicarat one through his thigh. But neither of these two +wounds was serious, and they only fought more earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, wounded anew by Cahusac, became evidently paler, but did not give way a +foot. He only changed his sword hand, and fought with his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +According to the laws of dueling at that period, D’Artagnan was at liberty to +assist whom he pleased. While he was endeavoring to find out which of his +companions stood in greatest need, he caught a glance from Athos. The glance +was of sublime eloquence. Athos would have died rather than appeal for help; +but he could look, and with that look ask assistance. D’Artagnan interpreted +it; with a terrible bound he sprang to the side of Cahusac, crying, “To me, +Monsieur Guardsman; I will slay you!” +</p> + +<p> +Cahusac turned. It was time; for Athos, whose great courage alone supported +him, sank upon his knee. +</p> + +<p> +“S’blood!” cried he to D’Artagnan, “do not kill him, young man, I beg of you. I +have an old affair to settle with him when I am cured and sound again. Disarm +him only—make sure of his sword. That’s it! Very well done!” +</p> + +<p> +The exclamation was drawn from Athos by seeing the sword of Cahusac fly twenty +paces from him. D’Artagnan and Cahusac sprang forward at the same instant, the +one to recover, the other to obtain, the sword; but D’Artagnan, being the more +active, reached it first and placed his foot upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Cahusac immediately ran to the Guardsman whom Aramis had killed, seized his +rapier, and returned toward D’Artagnan; but on his way he met Athos, who during +his relief which D’Artagnan had procured him had recovered his breath, and who, +for fear that D’Artagnan would kill his enemy, wished to resume the fight. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan perceived that it would be disobliging Athos not to leave him alone; +and in a few minutes Cahusac fell, with a sword thrust through his throat. +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant Aramis placed his sword point on the breast of his fallen +enemy, and forced him to ask for mercy. +</p> + +<p> +There only then remained Porthos and Bicarat. Porthos made a thousand +flourishes, asking Bicarat what o’clock it could be, and offering him his +compliments upon his brother’s having just obtained a company in the regiment +of Navarre; but, jest as he might, he gained nothing. Bicarat was one of those +iron men who never fell dead. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, it was necessary to finish. The watch might come up and take all +the combatants, wounded or not, royalists or cardinalists. Athos, Aramis, and +D’Artagnan surrounded Bicarat, and required him to surrender. Though alone +against all and with a wound in his thigh, Bicarat wished to hold out; but +Jussac, who had risen upon his elbow, cried out to him to yield. Bicarat was a +Gascon, as D’Artagnan was; he turned a deaf ear, and contented himself with +laughing, and between two parries finding time to point to a spot of earth with +his sword, “Here,” cried he, parodying a verse of the Bible, “here will Bicarat +die; for I only am left, and they seek my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there are four against you; leave off, I command you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if you command me, that’s another thing,” said Bicarat. “As you are my +commander, it is my duty to obey.” And springing backward, he broke his sword +across his knee to avoid the necessity of surrendering it, threw the pieces +over the convent wall, and crossed his arms, whistling a cardinalist air. +</p> + +<p> +Bravery is always respected, even in an enemy. The Musketeers saluted Bicarat +with their swords, and returned them to their sheaths. D’Artagnan did the same. +Then, assisted by Bicarat, the only one left standing, they bore Jussac, +Cahusac, and one of Aramis’s adversaries who was only wounded, under the porch +of the convent. The fourth, as we have said, was dead. They then rang the bell, +and carrying away four swords out of five, they took their road, intoxicated +with joy, toward the hôtel of M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +They walked arm in arm, occupying the whole width of the street and taking in +every Musketeer they met, so that in the end it became a triumphal march. The +heart of D’Artagnan swam in delirium; he marched between Athos and Porthos, +pressing them tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“If I am not yet a Musketeer,” said he to his new friends, as he passed through +the gateway of M. de Tréville’s hôtel, “at least I have entered upon my +apprenticeship, haven’t I?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>Chapter VI.<br/> +HIS MAJESTY KING LOUIS XIII.</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">his</span> affair made a great noise. M. de Tréville scolded +his Musketeers in public, and congratulated them in private; but as no time was +to be lost in gaining the king, M. de Tréville hastened to report himself at +the Louvre. It was already too late. The king was closeted with the cardinal, +and M. de Tréville was informed that the king was busy and could not receive +him at that moment. In the evening M. de Tréville attended the king’s gaming +table. The king was winning; and as he was very avaricious, he was in an +excellent humor. Perceiving M. de Tréville at a distance— +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Monsieur Captain,” said he, “come here, that I may growl at you. Do +you know that his Eminence has been making fresh complaints against your +Musketeers, and that with so much emotion, that this evening his Eminence is +indisposed? Ah, these Musketeers of yours are very devils—fellows to be +hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire,” replied Tréville, who saw at the first glance how things would go, +“on the contrary, they are good creatures, as meek as lambs, and have but one +desire, I’ll be their warranty. And that is that their swords may never leave +their scabbards but in your majesty’s service. But what are they to do? The +Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal are forever seeking quarrels with them, and for +the honor of the corps even, the poor young men are obliged to defend +themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to Monsieur de Tréville,” said the king; “listen to him! Would not one +say he was speaking of a religious community? In truth, my dear Captain, I have +a great mind to take away your commission and give it to Mademoiselle de +Chemerault, to whom I promised an abbey. But don’t fancy that I am going to +take you on your bare word. I am called Louis the Just, Monsieur de Tréville, +and by and by, by and by we will see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, sire; it is because I confide in that justice that I shall wait patiently +and quietly the good pleasure of your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, then, monsieur, wait,” said the king; “I will not detain you long.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, fortune changed; and as the king began to lose what he had won, he was +not sorry to find an excuse for playing Charlemagne—if we may use a +gaming phrase of whose origin we confess our ignorance. The king therefore +arose a minute after, and putting the money which lay before him into his +pocket, the major part of which arose from his winnings, “La Vieuville,” said +he, “take my place; I must speak to Monsieur de Tréville on an affair of +importance. Ah, I had eighty louis before me; put down the same sum, so that +they who have lost may have nothing to complain of. Justice before everything.” +</p> + +<p> +Then turning toward M. de Tréville and walking with him toward the embrasure of +a window, “Well, monsieur,” continued he, “you say it is his Eminence’s Guards +who have sought a quarrel with your Musketeers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, as they always do.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how did the thing happen? Let us see, for you know, my dear Captain, a +judge must hear both sides.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! In the most simple and natural manner possible. Three of my best +soldiers, whom your Majesty knows by name, and whose devotedness you have more +than once appreciated, and who have, I dare affirm to the king, his service +much at heart—three of my best soldiers, I say, Athos, Porthos, and +Aramis, had made a party of pleasure with a young fellow from Gascony, whom I +had introduced to them the same morning. The party was to take place at St. +Germain, I believe, and they had appointed to meet at the Carmes-Deschaux, when +they were disturbed by de Jussac, Cahusac, Bicarat, and two other Guardsmen, +who certainly did not go there in such a numerous company without some ill +intention against the edicts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! You incline me to think so,” said the king. “There is no doubt they +went thither to fight themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not accuse them, sire; but I leave your Majesty to judge what five armed +men could possibly be going to do in such a deserted place as the neighborhood +of the Convent des Carmes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right, Tréville, you are right!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, upon seeing my Musketeers they changed their minds, and forgot their +private hatred for partisan hatred; for your Majesty cannot be ignorant that +the Musketeers, who belong to the king and nobody but the king, are the natural +enemies of the Guardsmen, who belong to the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Tréville, yes,” said the king, in a melancholy tone; “and it is very sad, +believe me, to see thus two parties in France, two heads to royalty. But all +this will come to an end, Tréville, will come to an end. You say, then, that +the Guardsmen sought a quarrel with the Musketeers?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that it is probable that things have fallen out so, but I will not swear +to it, sire. You know how difficult it is to discover the truth; and unless a +man be endowed with that admirable instinct which causes Louis XIII. to be named +the Just—” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, Tréville; but they were not alone, your Musketeers. They had a +youth with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, and one wounded man; so that three of the king’s +Musketeers—one of whom was wounded—and a youth not only maintained +their ground against five of the most terrible of the cardinal’s Guardsmen, but +absolutely brought four of them to earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this is a victory!” cried the king, all radiant, “a complete victory!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire; as complete as that of the Bridge of Ce.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four men, one of them wounded, and a youth, say you?” +</p> + +<p> +“One hardly a young man; but who, however, behaved himself so admirably on this +occasion that I will take the liberty of recommending him to your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“How does he call himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, sire; he is the son of one of my oldest friends—the son of a +man who served under the king your father, of glorious memory, in the civil +war.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you say this young man behaved himself well? Tell me how, +Tréville—you know how I delight in accounts of war and fighting.” +</p> + +<p> +And Louis XIII. twisted his mustache proudly, placing his hand upon his hip. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” resumed Tréville, “as I told you, Monsieur d’Artagnan is little more +than a boy; and as he has not the honor of being a Musketeer, he was dressed as +a citizen. The Guards of the cardinal, perceiving his youth and that he did not +belong to the corps, invited him to retire before they attacked.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you may plainly see, Tréville,” interrupted the king, “it was they who +attacked?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, sire; there can be no more doubt on that head. They called upon +him then to retire; but he answered that he was a Musketeer at heart, entirely +devoted to your Majesty, and that therefore he would remain with Messieurs the +Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brave young man!” murmured the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he did remain with them; and your Majesty has in him so firm a champion +that it was he who gave Jussac the terrible sword thrust which has made the +cardinal so angry.” +</p> + +<p> +“He who wounded Jussac!” cried the king, “he, a boy! Tréville, that’s +impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is as I have the honor to relate it to your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jussac, one of the first swordsmen in the kingdom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sire, for once he found his master.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see this young man, Tréville—I will see him; and if anything can +be done—well, we will make it our business.” +</p> + +<p> +“When will your Majesty deign to receive him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, at midday, Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I bring him alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, bring me all four together. I wish to thank them all at once. Devoted men +are so rare, Tréville, by the back staircase. It is useless to let the cardinal +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You understand, Tréville—an edict is still an edict, it is forbidden to +fight, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this encounter, sire, is quite out of the ordinary conditions of a duel. +It is a brawl; and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s +Guardsmen against my three Musketeers and Monsieur d’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” said the king; “but never mind, Tréville, come still by the +back staircase.” +</p> + +<p> +Tréville smiled; but as it was indeed something to have prevailed upon this +child to rebel against his master, he saluted the king respectfully, and with +this agreement, took leave of him. +</p> + +<p> +That evening the three Musketeers were informed of the honor accorded them. As +they had long been acquainted with the king, they were not much excited; but +D’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his future fortune, and +passed the night in golden dreams. By eight o’clock in the morning he was at +the apartment of Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan found the Musketeer dressed and ready to go out. As the hour to wait +upon the king was not till twelve, he had made a party with Porthos and Aramis +to play a game at tennis in a tennis court situated near the stables of the +Luxembourg. Athos invited D’Artagnan to follow them; and although ignorant of +the game, which he had never played, he accepted, not knowing what to do with +his time from nine o’clock in the morning, as it then scarcely was, till +twelve. +</p> + +<p> +The two Musketeers were already there, and were playing together. Athos, who +was very expert in all bodily exercises, passed with D’Artagnan to the opposite +side and challenged them; but at the first effort he made, although he played +with his left hand, he found that his wound was yet too recent to allow of such +exertion. D’Artagnan remained, therefore, alone; and as he declared he was too +ignorant of the game to play it regularly they only continued giving balls to +one another without counting. But one of these balls, launched by Porthos’ +herculean hand, passed so close to D’Artagnan’s face that he thought that if, +instead of passing near, it had hit him, his audience would have been probably +lost, as it would have been impossible for him to present himself before the +king. Now, as upon this audience, in his Gascon imagination, depended his +future life, he saluted Aramis and Porthos politely, declaring that he would +not resume the game until he should be prepared to play with them on more equal +terms, and went and took his place near the cord and in the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately for D’Artagnan, among the spectators was one of his Eminence’s +Guardsmen, who, still irritated by the defeat of his companions, which had +happened only the day before, had promised himself to seize the first +opportunity of avenging it. He believed this opportunity was now come and +addressed his neighbor: “It is not astonishing that that young man should be +afraid of a ball, for he is doubtless a Musketeer apprentice.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan turned round as if a serpent had stung him, and fixed his eyes +intensely upon the Guardsman who had just made this insolent speech. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu</i>,” resumed the latter, twisting his mustache, “look at me as +long as you like, my little gentleman! I have said what I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as since that which you have said is too clear to require any +explanation,” replied D’Artagnan, in a low voice, “I beg you to follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when?” asked the Guardsman, with the same jeering air. +</p> + +<p> +“At once, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you know who I am, without doubt?” +</p> + +<p> +“I? I am completely ignorant; nor does it much disquiet me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in the wrong there; for if you knew my name, perhaps you would not be +so pressing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bernajoux, at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, Monsieur Bernajoux,” said D’Artagnan, tranquilly, “I will wait for +you at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, monsieur, I will follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not hurry yourself, monsieur, lest it be observed that we go out together. +You must be aware that for our undertaking, company would be in the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said the Guardsman, astonished that his name had not produced +more effect upon the young man. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, the name of Bernajoux was known to all the world, D’Artagnan alone +excepted, perhaps; for it was one of those which figured most frequently in the +daily brawls which all the edicts of the cardinal could not repress. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis were so engaged with their game, and Athos was watching them +with so much attention, that they did not even perceive their young companion +go out, who, as he had told the Guardsman of his Eminence, stopped outside the +door. An instant after, the Guardsman descended in his turn. As D’Artagnan had +no time to lose, on account of the audience of the king, which was fixed for +midday, he cast his eyes around, and seeing that the street was empty, said to +his adversary, “My faith! It is fortunate for you, although your name is +Bernajoux, to have only to deal with an apprentice Musketeer. Never mind; be +content, I will do my best. On guard!” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said he whom D’Artagnan thus provoked, “it appears to me that this place +is badly chosen, and that we should be better behind the Abbey St. Germain or +in the Pré-aux-Clercs.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you say is full of sense,” replied D’Artagnan; “but unfortunately I have +very little time to spare, having an appointment at twelve precisely. On guard, +then, monsieur, on guard!” +</p> + +<p> +Bernajoux was not a man to have such a compliment paid to him twice. In an +instant his sword glittered in his hand, and he sprang upon his adversary, +whom, thanks to his great youthfulness, he hoped to intimidate. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan had on the preceding day served his apprenticeship. Fresh +sharpened by his victory, full of hopes of future favor, he was resolved not to +recoil a step. So the two swords were crossed close to the hilts, and as +D’Artagnan stood firm, it was his adversary who made the retreating step; but +D’Artagnan seized the moment at which, in this movement, the sword of Bernajoux +deviated from the line. He freed his weapon, made a lunge, and touched his +adversary on the shoulder. D’Artagnan immediately made a step backward and +raised his sword; but Bernajoux cried out that it was nothing, and rushing +blindly upon him, absolutely spitted himself upon D’Artagnan’s sword. As, +however, he did not fall, as he did not declare himself conquered, but only +broke away toward the hôtel of M. de la Trémouille, in whose service he had a +relative, D’Artagnan was ignorant of the seriousness of the last wound his +adversary had received, and pressing him warmly, without doubt would soon have +completed his work with a third blow, when the noise which arose from the +street being heard in the tennis court, two of the friends of the Guardsman, +who had seen him go out after exchanging some words with D’Artagnan, rushed, +sword in hand, from the court, and fell upon the conqueror. But Athos, Porthos, +and Aramis quickly appeared in their turn, and the moment the two Guardsmen +attacked their young companion, drove them back. Bernajoux now fell, and as the +Guardsmen were only two against four, they began to cry, “To the rescue! The +Hôtel de la Trémouille!” At these cries, all who were in the hôtel rushed out +and fell upon the four companions, who on their side cried aloud, “To the +rescue, Musketeers!” +</p> + +<p> +This cry was generally heeded; for the Musketeers were known to be enemies of +the cardinal, and were beloved on account of the hatred they bore to his +Eminence. Thus the soldiers of other companies than those which belonged to the +Red Duke, as Aramis had called him, often took part with the king’s Musketeers +in these quarrels. Of three Guardsmen of the company of M. Dessessart who were +passing, two came to the assistance of the four companions, while the other ran +toward the hôtel of M. de Tréville, crying, “To the rescue, Musketeers! To the +rescue!” As usual, this hôtel was full of soldiers of this company, who +hastened to the succor of their comrades. The <i>mêlée</i> became general, but +strength was on the side of the Musketeers. The cardinal’s Guards and M. de la +Trémouille’s people retreated into the hôtel, the doors of which they closed +just in time to prevent their enemies from entering with them. As to the +wounded man, he had been taken in at once, and, as we have said, in a very bad +state. +</p> + +<p> +Excitement was at its height among the Musketeers and their allies, and they +even began to deliberate whether they should not set fire to the hôtel to +punish the insolence of M. de la Trémouille’s domestics in daring to make a +<i>sortie</i> upon the king’s Musketeers. The proposition had been made, and +received with enthusiasm, when fortunately eleven o’clock struck. D’Artagnan +and his companions remembered their audience, and as they would very much have +regretted that such an opportunity should be lost, they succeeded in calming +their friends, who contented themselves with hurling some paving stones against +the gates; but the gates were too strong. They soon tired of the sport. +Besides, those who must be considered the leaders of the enterprise had quit +the group and were making their way toward the hôtel of M. de Tréville, who was +waiting for them, already informed of this fresh disturbance. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick to the Louvre,” said he, “to the Louvre without losing an instant, and +let us endeavor to see the king before he is prejudiced by the cardinal. We +will describe the thing to him as a consequence of the affair of yesterday, and +the two will pass off together.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville, accompanied by the four young fellows, directed his course +toward the Louvre; but to the great astonishment of the captain of the +Musketeers, he was informed that the king had gone stag hunting in the forest +of St. Germain. M. de Tréville required this intelligence to be repeated to him +twice, and each time his companions saw his brow become darker. +</p> + +<p> +“Had his Majesty,” asked he, “any intention of holding this hunting party +yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your Excellency,” replied the valet de chambre, “the Master of the Hounds +came this morning to inform him that he had marked down a stag. At first the +king answered that he would not go; but he could not resist his love of sport, +and set out after dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the king has seen the cardinal?” asked M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“In all probability he has,” replied the valet, “for I saw the horses harnessed +to his Eminence’s carriage this morning, and when I asked where he was going, +they told me, ‘To St. Germain.’” +</p> + +<p> +“He is beforehand with us,” said M. de Tréville. “Gentlemen, I will see the +king this evening; but as to you, I do not advise you to risk doing so.” +</p> + +<p> +This advice was too reasonable, and moreover came from a man who knew the king +too well, to allow the four young men to dispute it. M. de Tréville recommended +everyone to return home and wait for news. +</p> + +<p> +On entering his hôtel, M. de Tréville thought it best to be first in making the +complaint. He sent one of his servants to M. de la Trémouille with a letter in +which he begged of him to eject the cardinal’s Guardsmen from his house, and to +reprimand his people for their audacity in making <i>sortie</i> against the +king’s Musketeers. But M. de la Trémouille—already prejudiced by his +esquire, whose relative, as we already know, Bernajoux was—replied that +it was neither for M. de Tréville nor the Musketeers to complain, but, on the +contrary, for him, whose people the Musketeers had assaulted and whose hôtel +they had endeavored to burn. Now, as the debate between these two nobles might +last a long time, each becoming, naturally, more firm in his own opinion, M. de +Tréville thought of an expedient which might terminate it quietly. This was to +go himself to M. de la Trémouille. +</p> + +<p> +He repaired, therefore, immediately to his hôtel, and caused himself to be +announced. +</p> + +<p> +The two nobles saluted each other politely, for if no friendship existed +between them, there was at least esteem. Both were men of courage and honor; +and as M. de la Trémouille—a Protestant, and seeing the king +seldom—was of no party, he did not, in general, carry any bias into his +social relations. This time, however, his address, although polite, was cooler +than usual. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said M. de Tréville, “we fancy that we have each cause to complain +of the other, and I am come to endeavor to clear up this affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no objection,” replied M. de la Trémouille, “but I warn you that I am +well informed, and all the fault is with your Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are too just and reasonable a man, monsieur!” said Tréville, “not to +accept the proposal I am about to make to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Make it, monsieur, I listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is Monsieur Bernajoux, your esquire’s relative?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, monsieur, very ill indeed! In addition to the sword thrust in his arm, +which is not dangerous, he has received another right through his lungs, of +which the doctor says bad things.” +</p> + +<p> +“But has the wounded man retained his senses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he talk?” +</p> + +<p> +“With difficulty, but he can speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur, let us go to him. Let us adjure him, in the name of the God +before whom he must perhaps appear, to speak the truth. I will take him for +judge in his own cause, monsieur, and will believe what he will say.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de la Trémouille reflected for an instant; then as it was difficult to +suggest a more reasonable proposal, he agreed to it. +</p> + +<p> +Both descended to the chamber in which the wounded man lay. The latter, on +seeing these two noble lords who came to visit him, endeavored to raise himself +up in his bed; but he was too weak, and exhausted by the effort, he fell back +again almost senseless. +</p> + +<p> +M. de la Trémouille approached him, and made him inhale some salts, which +recalled him to life. Then M. de Tréville, unwilling that it should be thought +that he had influenced the wounded man, requested M. de la Trémouille to +interrogate him himself. +</p> + +<p> +That happened which M. de Tréville had foreseen. Placed between life and death, +as Bernajoux was, he had no idea for a moment of concealing the truth; and he +described to the two nobles the affair exactly as it had passed. +</p> + +<p> +This was all that M. de Tréville wanted. He wished Bernajoux a speedy +convalescence, took leave of M. de la Trémouille, returned to his hôtel, and +immediately sent word to the four friends that he awaited their company at +dinner. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville entertained good company, wholly anticardinalist, though. It may +easily be understood, therefore, that the conversation during the whole of +dinner turned upon the two checks that his Eminence’s Guardsmen had received. +Now, as D’Artagnan had been the hero of these two fights, it was upon him that +all the felicitations fell, which Athos, Porthos, and Aramis abandoned to him, +not only as good comrades, but as men who had so often had their turn that they +could very well afford him his. +</p> + +<p> +Toward six o’clock M. de Tréville announced that it was time to go to the +Louvre; but as the hour of audience granted by his Majesty was past, instead of +claiming the <i>entrée</i> by the back stairs, he placed himself with the four +young men in the antechamber. The king had not yet returned from hunting. Our +young men had been waiting about half an hour, amid a crowd of courtiers, when +all the doors were thrown open, and his Majesty was announced. +</p> + +<p> +At his announcement D’Artagnan felt himself tremble to the very marrow of his +bones. The coming instant would in all probability decide the rest of his life. +His eyes therefore were fixed in a sort of agony upon the door through which +the king must enter. +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIII. appeared, walking fast. He was in hunting costume covered with dust, +wearing large boots, and holding a whip in his hand. At the first glance, +D’Artagnan judged that the mind of the king was stormy. +</p> + +<p> +This disposition, visible as it was in his Majesty, did not prevent the +courtiers from ranging themselves along his pathway. In royal antechambers it +is worth more to be viewed with an angry eye than not to be seen at all. The +three Musketeers therefore did not hesitate to make a step forward. D’Artagnan +on the contrary remained concealed behind them; but although the king knew +Athos, Porthos, and Aramis personally, he passed before them without speaking +or looking—indeed, as if he had never seen them before. As for M. de +Tréville, when the eyes of the king fell upon him, he sustained the look with +so much firmness that it was the king who dropped his eyes; after which his +Majesty, grumbling, entered his apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“Matters go but badly,” said Athos, smiling; “and we shall not be made +Chevaliers of the Order this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait here ten minutes,” said M. de Tréville; “and if at the expiration of ten +minutes you do not see me come out, return to my hôtel, for it will be useless +for you to wait for me longer.” +</p> + +<p> +The four young men waited ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, twenty minutes; +and seeing that M. de Tréville did not return, went away very uneasy as to what +was going to happen. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville entered the king’s cabinet boldly, and found his Majesty in a +very ill humor, seated on an armchair, beating his boot with the handle of his +whip. This, however, did not prevent his asking, with the greatest coolness, +after his Majesty’s health. +</p> + +<p> +“Bad, monsieur, bad!” replied the king; “I am bored.” +</p> + +<p> +This was, in fact, the worst complaint of Louis XIII., who would sometimes take +one of his courtiers to a window and say, “Monsieur So-and-so, let us weary +ourselves together.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! Your Majesty is bored? Have you not enjoyed the pleasures of the chase +today?” +</p> + +<p> +“A fine pleasure, indeed, monsieur! Upon my soul, everything degenerates; and I +don’t know whether it is the game which leaves no scent, or the dogs that have +no noses. We started a stag of ten branches. We chased him for six hours, and +when he was near being taken—when St. Simon was already putting his horn +to his mouth to sound the <i>halali</i>—crack, all the pack takes the +wrong scent and sets off after a two-year-older. I shall be obliged to give up +hunting, as I have given up hawking. Ah, I am an unfortunate king, Monsieur de +Tréville! I had but one gerfalcon, and he died day before yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sire, I wholly comprehend your disappointment. The misfortune is +great; but I think you have still a good number of falcons, sparrow hawks, and +tiercels.” +</p> + +<p> +“And not a man to instruct them. Falconers are declining. I know no one but +myself who is acquainted with the noble art of venery. After me it will all be +over, and people will hunt with gins, snares, and traps. If I had but the time +to train pupils! But there is the cardinal always at hand, who does not leave +me a moment’s repose; who talks to me about Spain, who talks to me about +Austria, who talks to me about England! Ah! <i>à propos</i> of the cardinal, +Monsieur de Tréville, I am vexed with you!” +</p> + +<p> +This was the chance at which M. de Tréville waited for the king. He knew the +king of old, and he knew that all these complaints were but a preface—a +sort of excitation to encourage himself—and that he had now come to his +point at last. +</p> + +<p> +“And in what have I been so unfortunate as to displease your Majesty?” asked M. +de Tréville, feigning the most profound astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it thus you perform your charge, monsieur?” continued the king, without +directly replying to de Tréville’s question. “Is it for this I name you captain +of my Musketeers, that they should assassinate a man, disturb a whole quarter, +and endeavor to set fire to Paris, without your saying a word? But yet,” +continued the king, “undoubtedly my haste accuses you wrongfully; without doubt +the rioters are in prison, and you come to tell me justice is done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” replied M. de Tréville, calmly, “on the contrary, I come to demand it +of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And against whom?” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Against calumniators,” said M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! This is something new,” replied the king. “Will you tell me that your +three damned Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, and your youngster from +Béarn, have not fallen, like so many furies, upon poor Bernajoux, and have not +maltreated him in such a fashion that probably by this time he is dead? Will +you tell me that they did not lay siege to the hôtel of the Duc de la +Trémouille, and that they did not endeavor to burn it?—which would not, +perhaps, have been a great misfortune in time of war, seeing that it is nothing +but a nest of Huguenots, but which is, in time of peace, a frightful example. +Tell me, now, can you deny all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“And who told you this fine story, sire?” asked Tréville, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who has told me this fine story, monsieur? Who should it be but he who watches +while I sleep, who labors while I amuse myself, who conducts everything at home +and abroad—in France as in Europe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty probably refers to God,” said M. de Tréville; “for I know no one +except God who can be so far above your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur; I speak of the prop of the state, of my only servant, of my only +friend—of the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“His Eminence is not his holiness, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by that, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“That it is only the Pope who is infallible, and that this infallibility does +not extend to cardinals.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to say that he deceives me; you mean to say that he betrays me? You +accuse him, then? Come, speak; avow freely that you accuse him!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire, but I say that he deceives himself. I say that he is ill-informed. I +say that he has hastily accused your Majesty’s Musketeers, toward whom he is +unjust, and that he has not obtained his information from good sources.” +</p> + +<p> +“The accusation comes from Monsieur de la Trémouille, from the duke himself. +What do you say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I might answer, sire, that he is too deeply interested in the question to be a +very impartial witness; but so far from that, sire, I know the duke to be a +royal gentleman, and I refer the matter to him—but upon one condition, +sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is that your Majesty will make him come here, will interrogate him +yourself, <i>tête-à-tête</i>, without witnesses, and that I shall see your +Majesty as soon as you have seen the duke.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then! You will bind yourself,” cried the king, “by what Monsieur de la +Trémouille shall say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will accept his judgment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will submit to the reparation he may require?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“La Chesnaye,” said the king. “La Chesnaye!” +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIII.’s confidential valet, who never left the door, entered in reply to +the call. +</p> + +<p> +“La Chesnaye,” said the king, “let someone go instantly and find Monsieur de la +Trémouille; I wish to speak with him this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty gives me your word that you will not see anyone between Monsieur +de la Trémouille and myself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody, by the faith of a gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, then, sire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what o’clock, please your Majesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“At any hour you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“But in coming too early I should be afraid of awakening your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Awaken me! Do you think I ever sleep, then? I sleep no longer, monsieur. I +sometimes dream, that’s all. Come, then, as early as you like—at seven +o’clock; but beware, if you and your Musketeers are guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +“If my Musketeers are guilty, sire, the guilty shall be placed in your +Majesty’s hands, who will dispose of them at your good pleasure. Does your +Majesty require anything further? Speak, I am ready to obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, no; I am not called Louis the Just without reason. Tomorrow, +then, monsieur—tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till then, God preserve your Majesty!” +</p> + +<p> +However ill the king might sleep, M. de Tréville slept still worse. He had +ordered his three Musketeers and their companion to be with him at half past +six in the morning. He took them with him, without encouraging them or +promising them anything, and without concealing from them that their luck, and +even his own, depended upon the cast of the dice. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the foot of the back stairs, he desired them to wait. If the king +was still irritated against them, they would depart without being seen; if the +king consented to see them, they would only have to be called. +</p> + +<p> +On arriving at the king’s private antechamber, M. de Tréville found La +Chesnaye, who informed him that they had not been able to find M. de la +Trémouille on the preceding evening at his hôtel, that he returned too late to +present himself at the Louvre, that he had only that moment arrived and that he +was at that very hour with the king. +</p> + +<p> +This circumstance pleased M. de Tréville much, as he thus became certain that +no foreign suggestion could insinuate itself between M. de la Trémouille’s +testimony and himself. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, ten minutes had scarcely passed away when the door of the king’s +closet opened, and M. de Tréville saw M. de la Trémouille come out. The duke +came straight up to him, and said: “Monsieur de Tréville, his Majesty has just +sent for me in order to inquire respecting the circumstances which took place +yesterday at my hôtel. I have told him the truth; that is to say, that the +fault lay with my people, and that I was ready to offer you my excuses. Since I +have the good fortune to meet you, I beg you to receive them, and to hold me +always as one of your friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur the Duke,” said M. de Tréville, “I was so confident of your loyalty +that I required no other defender before his Majesty than yourself. I find that +I have not been mistaken, and I thank you that there is still one man in France +of whom may be said, without disappointment, what I have said of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well said,” cried the king, who had heard all these compliments through +the open door; “only tell him, Tréville, since he wishes to be considered your +friend, that I also wish to be one of his, but he neglects me; that it is +nearly three years since I have seen him, and that I never do see him unless I +send for him. Tell him all this for me, for these are things which a king +cannot say for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, sire, thanks,” said the duke; “but your Majesty may be assured that it +is not those—I do not speak of Monsieur de Tréville—whom your +Majesty sees at all hours of the day that are most devoted to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You have heard what I said? So much the better, Duke, so much the better,” +said the king, advancing toward the door. “Ah! It is you, Tréville. Where are +your Musketeers? I told you the day before yesterday to bring them with you; +why have you not done so?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are below, sire, and with your permission La Chesnaye will bid them come +up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, let them come up immediately. It is nearly eight o’clock, and at +nine I expect a visit. Go, Monsieur Duke, and return often. Come in, Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +The Duke saluted and retired. At the moment he opened the door, the three +Musketeers and D’Artagnan, conducted by La Chesnaye, appeared at the top of the +staircase. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, my braves,” said the king, “come in; I am going to scold you.” +</p> + +<p> +The Musketeers advanced, bowing, D’Artagnan following closely behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil!” continued the king. “Seven of his Eminence’s Guards placed +<i>hors de combat</i> by you four in two days! That’s too many, gentlemen, too +many! If you go on so, his Eminence will be forced to renew his company in +three weeks, and I to put the edicts in force in all their rigor. One now and +then I don’t say much about; but seven in two days, I repeat, it is too many, +it is far too many!” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, sire, your Majesty sees that they are come, quite contrite and +repentant, to offer you their excuses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite contrite and repentant! Hem!” said the king. “I place no confidence in +their hypocritical faces. In particular, there is one yonder of a Gascon look. +Come hither, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who understood that it was to him this compliment was addressed, +approached, assuming a most deprecating air. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you told me he was a young man? This is a boy, Tréville, a mere boy! Do +you mean to say that it was he who bestowed that severe thrust at Jussac?” +</p> + +<p> +“And those two equally fine thrusts at Bernajoux.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Without reckoning,” said Athos, “that if he had not rescued me from the hands +of Cahusac, I should not now have the honor of making my very humble reverence +to your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why he is a very devil, this Béarnais! <i>Ventre-saint-gris</i>, Monsieur de +Tréville, as the king my father would have said. But at this sort of work, many +doublets must be slashed and many swords broken. Now, Gascons are always poor, +are they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I can assert that they have hitherto discovered no gold mines in their +mountains; though the Lord owes them this miracle in recompense for the manner +in which they supported the pretensions of the king your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which is to say that the Gascons made a king of me, myself, seeing that I am +my father’s son, is it not, Tréville? Well, happily, I don’t say nay to it. La +Chesnaye, go and see if by rummaging all my pockets you can find forty +pistoles; and if you can find them, bring them to me. And now let us see, young +man, with your hand upon your conscience, how did all this come to pass?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related the adventure of the preceding day in all its details; how, +not having been able to sleep for the joy he felt in the expectation of seeing +his Majesty, he had gone to his three friends three hours before the hour of +audience; how they had gone together to the tennis court, and how, upon the +fear he had manifested lest he receive a ball in the face, he had been jeered +at by Bernajoux, who had nearly paid for his jeer with his life, and M. de la +Trémouille, who had nothing to do with the matter, with the loss of his hôtel. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all very well,” murmured the king, “yes, this is just the account the +duke gave me of the affair. Poor cardinal! Seven men in two days, and those of +his very best! But that’s quite enough, gentlemen; please to understand, that’s +enough. You have taken your revenge for the Rue Férou, and even exceeded it; +you ought to be satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +“If your Majesty is so,” said Tréville, “we are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; I am,” added the king, taking a handful of gold from La Chesnaye, and +putting it into the hand of D’Artagnan. “Here,” said he, “is a proof of my +satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +At this epoch, the ideas of pride which are in fashion in our days did not +prevail. A gentleman received, from hand to hand, money from the king, and was +not the least in the world humiliated. D’Artagnan put his forty pistoles into +his pocket without any scruple—on the contrary, thanking his Majesty +greatly. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said the king, looking at a clock, “there, now, as it is half past +eight, you may retire; for as I told you, I expect someone at nine. Thanks for +your devotedness, gentlemen. I may continue to rely upon it, may I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire!” cried the four companions, with one voice, “we would allow +ourselves to be cut to pieces in your Majesty’s service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, but keep whole; that will be better, and you will be more useful +to me. Tréville,” added the king, in a low voice, as the others were retiring, +“as you have no room in the Musketeers, and as we have besides decided that a +novitiate is necessary before entering that corps, place this young man in the +company of the Guards of Monsieur Dessessart, your brother-in-law. Ah, +<i>pardieu</i>, Tréville! I enjoy beforehand the face the cardinal will make. +He will be furious; but I don’t care. I am doing what is right.” +</p> + +<p> +The king waved his hand to Tréville, who left him and rejoined the Musketeers, +whom he found sharing the forty pistoles with D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal, as his Majesty had said, was really furious, so furious that +during eight days he absented himself from the king’s gaming table. This did +not prevent the king from being as complacent to him as possible whenever he +met him, or from asking in the kindest tone, “Well, Monsieur Cardinal, how +fares it with that poor Jussac and that poor Bernajoux of yours?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>Chapter VII.<br/> +THE INTERIOR OF THE MUSKETEERS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">W</span><span +class="dropspan">hen</span> D’Artagnan was out of the Louvre, and consulted his +friends upon the use he had best make of his share of the forty pistoles, Athos +advised him to order a good repast at the Pomme-de-Pin, Porthos to engage a +lackey, and Aramis to provide himself with a suitable mistress. +</p> + +<p> +The repast was carried into effect that very day, and the lackey waited at +table. The repast had been ordered by Athos, and the lackey furnished by +Porthos. He was a Picard, whom the glorious Musketeer had picked up on the +Bridge Tournelle, making rings and plashing in the water. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos pretended that this occupation was proof of a reflective and +contemplative organization, and he had brought him away without any other +recommendation. The noble carriage of this gentleman, for whom he believed +himself to be engaged, had won Planchet—that was the name of the Picard. +He felt a slight disappointment, however, when he saw that this place was +already taken by a compeer named Mousqueton, and when Porthos signified to him +that the state of his household, though great, would not support two servants, +and that he must enter into the service of D’Artagnan. Nevertheless, when he +waited at the dinner given by his master, and saw him take out a handful of +gold to pay for it, he believed his fortune made, and returned thanks to heaven +for having thrown him into the service of such a Crœsus. He preserved this +opinion even after the feast, with the remnants of which he repaired his own +long abstinence; but when in the evening he made his master’s bed, the chimeras +of Planchet faded away. The bed was the only one in the apartment, which +consisted of an antechamber and a bedroom. Planchet slept in the antechamber +upon a coverlet taken from the bed of D’Artagnan, and which D’Artagnan from +that time made shift to do without. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, on his part, had a valet whom he had trained in his service in a +thoroughly peculiar fashion, and who was named Grimaud. He was very taciturn, +this worthy signor. Be it understood we are speaking of Athos. During the five +or six years that he had lived in the strictest intimacy with his companions, +Porthos and Aramis, they could remember having often seen him smile, but had +never heard him laugh. His words were brief and expressive, conveying all that +was meant, and no more; no embellishments, no embroidery, no arabesques. His +conversation was a matter of fact, without a single romance. +</p> + +<p> +Although Athos was scarcely thirty years old, and was of great personal beauty +and intelligence of mind, no one knew whether he had ever had a mistress. He +never spoke of women. He certainly did not prevent others from speaking of them +before him, although it was easy to perceive that this kind of conversation, in +which he only mingled by bitter words and misanthropic remarks, was very +disagreeable to him. His reserve, his roughness, and his silence made almost an +old man of him. He had, then, in order not to disturb his habits, accustomed +Grimaud to obey him upon a simple gesture or upon a simple movement of his +lips. He never spoke to him, except under the most extraordinary occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, Grimaud, who feared his master as he did fire, while entertaining a +strong attachment to his person and a great veneration for his talents, +believed he perfectly understood what he wanted, flew to execute the order +received, and did precisely the contrary. Athos then shrugged his shoulders, +and, without putting himself in a passion, thrashed Grimaud. On these days he +spoke a little. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, as we have seen, had a character exactly opposite to that of Athos. He +not only talked much, but he talked loudly, little caring, we must render him +that justice, whether anybody listened to him or not. He talked for the +pleasure of talking and for the pleasure of hearing himself talk. He spoke upon +all subjects except the sciences, alleging in this respect the inveterate +hatred he had borne to scholars from his childhood. He had not so noble an air +as Athos, and the commencement of their intimacy often rendered him unjust +toward that gentleman, whom he endeavored to eclipse by his splendid dress. But +with his simple Musketeer’s uniform and nothing but the manner in which he +threw back his head and advanced his foot, Athos instantly took the place which +was his due and consigned the ostentatious Porthos to the second rank. Porthos +consoled himself by filling the antechamber of M. de Tréville and the guardroom +of the Louvre with the accounts of his love scrapes, after having passed from +professional ladies to military ladies, from the lawyer’s dame to the baroness, +there was question of nothing less with Porthos than a foreign princess, who +was enormously fond of him. +</p> + +<p> +An old proverb says, “Like master, like man.” Let us pass, then, from the valet +of Athos to the valet of Porthos, from Grimaud to Mousqueton. +</p> + +<p> +Mousqueton was a Norman, whose pacific name of Boniface his master had changed +into the infinitely more sonorous name of Mousqueton. He had entered the +service of Porthos upon condition that he should only be clothed and lodged, +though in a handsome manner; but he claimed two hours a day to himself, +consecrated to an employment which would provide for his other wants. Porthos +agreed to the bargain; the thing suited him wonderfully well. He had doublets +cut out of his old clothes and cast-off cloaks for Mousqueton, and thanks to a +very intelligent tailor, who made his clothes look as good as new by turning +them, and whose wife was suspected of wishing to make Porthos descend from his +aristocratic habits, Mousqueton made a very good figure when attending on his +master. +</p> + +<p> +As for Aramis, of whom we believe we have sufficiently explained the +character—a character which, like that of his companions, we shall be +able to follow in its development—his lackey was called Bazin. Thanks to +the hopes which his master entertained of someday entering into orders, he was +always clothed in black, as became the servant of a churchman. He was a +Berrichon, thirty-five or forty years old, mild, peaceable, sleek, employing +the leisure his master left him in the perusal of pious works, providing +rigorously for two a dinner of few dishes, but excellent. For the rest, he was +dumb, blind, and deaf, and of unimpeachable fidelity. +</p> + +<p> +And now that we are acquainted, superficially at least, with the masters and +the valets, let us pass on to the dwellings occupied by each of them. +</p> + +<p> +Athos dwelt in the Rue Férou, within two steps of the Luxembourg. His apartment +consisted of two small chambers, very nicely fitted up, in a furnished house, +the hostess of which, still young and still really handsome, cast tender +glances uselessly at him. Some fragments of past splendor appeared here and +there upon the walls of this modest lodging; a sword, for example, richly +embossed, which belonged by its make to the times of Francis I, the hilt of +which alone, encrusted with precious stones, might be worth two hundred +pistoles, and which, nevertheless, in his moments of greatest distress Athos +had never pledged or offered for sale. It had long been an object of ambition +for Porthos. Porthos would have given ten years of his life to possess this +sword. +</p> + +<p> +One day, when he had an appointment with a duchess, he endeavored even to +borrow it of Athos. Athos, without saying anything, emptied his pockets, got +together all his jewels, purses, aiguillettes, and gold chains, and offered +them all to Porthos; but as to the sword, he said it was sealed to its place +and should never quit it until its master should himself quit his lodgings. In +addition to the sword, there was a portrait representing a nobleman of the time +of Henry III., dressed with the greatest elegance, and who wore the Order of the +Holy Ghost; and this portrait had certain resemblances of lines with Athos, +certain family likenesses which indicated that this great noble, a knight of +the Order of the King, was his ancestor. +</p> + +<p> +Besides these, a casket of magnificent goldwork, with the same arms as the +sword and the portrait, formed a middle ornament to the mantelpiece, and +assorted badly with the rest of the furniture. Athos always carried the key of +this coffer about him; but he one day opened it before Porthos, and Porthos was +convinced that this coffer contained nothing but letters and papers—love +letters and family papers, no doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos lived in an apartment, large in size and of very sumptuous appearance, +in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier. Every time he passed with a friend before his +windows, at one of which Mousqueton was sure to be placed in full livery, +Porthos raised his head and his hand, and said, “That is my abode!” But he was +never to be found at home; he never invited anybody to go up with him, and no +one could form an idea of what his sumptuous apartment contained in the shape +of real riches. +</p> + +<p> +As to Aramis, he dwelt in a little lodging composed of a boudoir, an eating +room, and a bedroom, which room, situated, as the others were, on the ground +floor, looked out upon a little fresh green garden, shady and impenetrable to +the eyes of his neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to D’Artagnan, we know how he was lodged, and we have already made +acquaintance with his lackey, Master Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who was by nature very curious—as people generally are who +possess the genius of intrigue—did all he could to make out who Athos, +Porthos, and Aramis really were (for under these pseudonyms each of these young +men concealed his family name)—Athos in particular, who, a league away, +savored of nobility. He addressed himself then to Porthos to gain information +respecting Athos and Aramis, and to Aramis in order to learn something of +Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately Porthos knew nothing of the life of his silent companion but what +revealed itself. It was said Athos had met with great crosses in love, and that +a frightful treachery had forever poisoned the life of this gallant man. What +could this treachery be? All the world was ignorant of it. +</p> + +<p> +As to Porthos, except his real name (as was the case with those of his two +comrades), his life was very easily known. Vain and indiscreet, it was as easy +to see through him as through a crystal. The only thing to mislead the +investigator would have been belief in all the good things he said of himself. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to Aramis, though having the air of having nothing secret about +him, he was a young fellow made up of mysteries, answering little to questions +put to him about others, and having learned from him the report which prevailed +concerning the success of the Musketeer with a princess, wished to gain a +little insight into the amorous adventures of his interlocutor. “And you, my +dear companion,” said he, “you speak of the baronesses, countesses, and +princesses of others?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> I spoke of them because Porthos talked of them himself, +because he had paraded all these fine things before me. But be assured, my dear +Monsieur d’Artagnan, that if I had obtained them from any other source, or if +they had been confided to me, there exists no confessor more discreet than +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” replied D’Artagnan; “but it seems to me that you are +tolerably familiar with coats of arms—a certain embroidered handkerchief, +for instance, to which I owe the honor of your acquaintance?” +</p> + +<p> +This time Aramis was not angry, but assumed the most modest air and replied in +a friendly tone, “My dear friend, do not forget that I wish to belong to the +Church, and that I avoid all mundane opportunities. The handkerchief you saw +had not been given to me, but it had been forgotten and left at my house by one +of my friends. I was obliged to pick it up in order not to compromise him and +the lady he loves. As for myself, I neither have, nor desire to have, a +mistress, following in that respect the very judicious example of Athos, who +has none any more than I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what the devil! You are not a priest, you are a Musketeer!” +</p> + +<p> +“A Musketeer for a time, my friend, as the cardinal says, a Musketeer against +my will, but a churchman at heart, believe me. Athos and Porthos dragged me +into this to occupy me. I had, at the moment of being ordained, a little +difficulty with—But that would not interest you, and I am taking up your +valuable time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all; it interests me very much,” cried D’Artagnan; “and at this moment +I have absolutely nothing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I have my breviary to repeat,” answered Aramis; “then some verses to +compose, which Madame d’Aiguillon begged of me. Then I must go to the Rue St. +Honoré in order to purchase some rouge for Madame de Chevreuse. So you see, my +dear friend, that if you are not in a hurry, I am very much in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis held out his hand in a cordial manner to his young companion, and took +leave of him. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding all the pains he took, D’Artagnan was unable to learn any more +concerning his three new-made friends. He formed, therefore, the resolution of +believing for the present all that was said of their past, hoping for more +certain and extended revelations in the future. In the meanwhile, he looked +upon Athos as an Achilles, Porthos as an Ajax, and Aramis as a Joseph. +</p> + +<p> +As to the rest, the life of the four young friends was joyous enough. Athos +played, and that as a rule unfortunately. Nevertheless, he never borrowed a sou +of his companions, although his purse was ever at their service; and when he +had played upon honor, he always awakened his creditor by six o’clock the next +morning to pay the debt of the preceding evening. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos had his fits. On the days when he won he was insolent and ostentatious; +if he lost, he disappeared completely for several days, after which he +reappeared with a pale face and thinner person, but with money in his purse. +</p> + +<p> +As to Aramis, he never played. He was the worst Musketeer and the most +unconvivial companion imaginable. He had always something or other to do. +Sometimes in the midst of dinner, when everyone, under the attraction of wine +and in the warmth of conversation, believed they had two or three hours longer +to enjoy themselves at table, Aramis looked at his watch, arose with a bland +smile, and took leave of the company, to go, as he said, to consult a casuist +with whom he had an appointment. At other times he would return home to write a +treatise, and requested his friends not to disturb him. +</p> + +<p> +At this Athos would smile, with his charming, melancholy smile, which so became +his noble countenance, and Porthos would drink, swearing that Aramis would +never be anything but a village <i>curé</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet, D’Artagnan’s valet, supported his good fortune nobly. He received +thirty sous per day, and for a month he returned to his lodgings gay as a +chaffinch, and affable toward his master. When the wind of adversity began to +blow upon the housekeeping of the Rue des Fossoyeurs—that is to say, when +the forty pistoles of King Louis XIII. were consumed or nearly so—he +commenced complaints which Athos thought nauseous, Porthos indecent, and Aramis +ridiculous. Athos counseled D’Artagnan to dismiss the fellow; Porthos was of +the opinion that he should give him a good thrashing first; and Aramis +contended that a master should never attend to anything but the civilities paid +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all very easy for you to say,” replied D’Artagnan, “for you, Athos, +who live like a dumb man with Grimaud, who forbid him to speak, and +consequently never exchange ill words with him; for you, Porthos, who carry +matters in such a magnificent style, and are a god to your valet, Mousqueton; +and for you, Aramis, who, always abstracted by your theological studies, +inspire your servant, Bazin, a mild, religious man, with a profound respect; +but for me, who am without any settled means and without resources—for +me, who am neither a Musketeer nor even a Guardsman, what am I to do to inspire +either the affection, the terror, or the respect in Planchet?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is serious,” answered the three friends; “it is a family affair. It is +with valets as with wives, they must be placed at once upon the footing in +which you wish them to remain. Reflect upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan did reflect, and resolved to thrash Planchet provisionally; which he +did with the conscientiousness that D’Artagnan carried into everything. After +having well beaten him, he forbade him to leave his service without his +permission. “For,” added he, “the future cannot fail to mend; I inevitably look +for better times. Your fortune is therefore made if you remain with me, and I +am too good a master to allow you to miss such a chance by granting you the +dismissal you require.” +</p> + +<p> +This manner of acting roused much respect for D’Artagnan’s policy among the +Musketeers. Planchet was equally seized with admiration, and said no more about +going away. +</p> + +<p> +The life of the four young men had become fraternal. D’Artagnan, who had no +settled habits of his own, as he came from his province into the midst of a +world quite new to him, fell easily into the habits of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +They rose about eight o’clock in the winter, about six in summer, and went to +take the countersign and see how things went on at M. de Tréville’s. +D’Artagnan, although he was not a Musketeer, performed the duty of one with +remarkable punctuality. He went on guard because he always kept company with +whoever of his friends was on duty. He was well known at the Hôtel of the +Musketeers, where everyone considered him a good comrade. M. de Tréville, who +had appreciated him at the first glance and who bore him a real affection, +never ceased recommending him to the king. +</p> + +<p> +On their side, the three Musketeers were much attached to their young comrade. +The friendship which united these four men, and the need they felt of seeing +another three or four times a day, whether for dueling, business, or pleasure, +caused them to be continually running after one another like shadows; and the +Inseparables were constantly to be met with seeking one another, from the +Luxembourg to the Place St. Sulpice, or from the Rue du Vieux-Colombier to the +Luxembourg. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile the promises of M. de Tréville went on prosperously. One fine +morning the king commanded M. de Chevalier Dessessart to admit D’Artagnan as a +cadet in his company of Guards. D’Artagnan, with a sigh, donned his uniform, +which he would have exchanged for that of a Musketeer at the expense of ten +years of his existence. But M. de Tréville promised this favor after a +novitiate of two years—a novitiate which might besides be abridged if an +opportunity should present itself for D’Artagnan to render the king any signal +service, or to distinguish himself by some brilliant action. Upon this promise +D’Artagnan withdrew, and the next day he began service. +</p> + +<p> +Then it became the turn of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis to mount guard with +D’Artagnan when he was on duty. The company of M. le Chevalier Dessessart thus +received four instead of one when it admitted D’Artagnan. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>Chapter VIII.<br/> +CONCERNING A COURT INTRIGUE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> the meantime, the forty pistoles of King Louis XIII., +like all other things of this world, after having had a beginning had an end, +and after this end our four companions began to be somewhat embarrassed. At +first, Athos supported the association for a time with his own means. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos succeeded him; and thanks to one of those disappearances to which he +was accustomed, he was able to provide for the wants of all for a fortnight. At +last it became Aramis’s turn, who performed it with a good grace and who +succeeded—as he said, by selling some theological books—in +procuring a few pistoles. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as they had been accustomed to do, they had recourse to M. de Tréville, +who made some advances on their pay; but these advances could not go far with +three Musketeers who were already much in arrears and a Guardsman who as yet +had no pay at all. +</p> + +<p> +At length when they found they were likely to be really in want, they got +together, as a last effort, eight or ten pistoles, with which Porthos went to +the gaming table. Unfortunately he was in a bad vein; he lost all, together +with twenty-five pistoles for which he had given his word. +</p> + +<p> +Then the inconvenience became distress. The hungry friends, followed by their +lackeys, were seen haunting the quays and Guard rooms, picking up among their +friends abroad all the dinners they could meet with; for according to the +advice of Aramis, it was prudent to sow repasts right and left in prosperity, +in order to reap a few in time of need. +</p> + +<p> +Athos was invited four times, and each time took his friends and their lackeys +with him. Porthos had six occasions, and contrived in the same manner that his +friends should partake of them; Aramis had eight of them. He was a man, as must +have been already perceived, who made but little noise, and yet was much sought +after. +</p> + +<p> +As to D’Artagnan, who as yet knew nobody in the capital, he only found one +chocolate breakfast at the house of a priest of his own province, and one +dinner at the house of a cornet of the Guards. He took his army to the +priest’s, where they devoured as much provision as would have lasted him for +two months, and to the cornet’s, who performed wonders; but as Planchet said, +“People do not eat at once for all time, even when they eat a good deal.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan thus felt himself humiliated in having only procured one meal and a +half for his companions—as the breakfast at the priest’s could only be +counted as half a repast—in return for the feasts which Athos, Porthos, +and Aramis had procured him. He fancied himself a burden to the society, +forgetting in his perfectly juvenile good faith that he had fed this society +for a month; and he set his mind actively to work. He reflected that this +coalition of four young, brave, enterprising, and active men ought to have some +other object than swaggering walks, fencing lessons, and practical jokes, more +or less witty. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, four men such as they were—four men devoted to one another, from +their purses to their lives; four men always supporting one another, never +yielding, executing singly or together the resolutions formed in common; four +arms threatening the four cardinal points, or turning toward a single +point—must inevitably, either subterraneously, in open day, by mining, in +the trench, by cunning, or by force, open themselves a way toward the object +they wished to attain, however well it might be defended, or however distant it +may seem. The only thing that astonished D’Artagnan was that his friends had +never thought of this. +</p> + +<p> +He was thinking by himself, and even seriously racking his brain to find a +direction for this single force four times multiplied, with which he did not +doubt, as with the lever for which Archimedes sought, they should succeed in +moving the world, when someone tapped gently at his door. D’Artagnan awakened +Planchet and ordered him to open it. +</p> + +<p> +From this phrase, “D’Artagnan awakened Planchet,” the reader must not suppose +it was night, or that day was hardly come. No, it had just struck four. +Planchet, two hours before, had asked his master for some dinner, and he had +answered him with the proverb, “He who sleeps, dines.” And Planchet dined by +sleeping. +</p> + +<p> +A man was introduced of simple mien, who had the appearance of a tradesman. +Planchet, by way of dessert, would have liked to hear the conversation; but the +citizen declared to D’Artagnan that, what he had to say being important and +confidential, he desired to be left alone with him. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan dismissed Planchet, and requested his visitor to be seated. There +was a moment of silence, during which the two men looked at each other, as if +to make a preliminary acquaintance, after which D’Artagnan bowed, as a sign +that he listened. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard Monsieur d’Artagnan spoken of as a very brave young man,” said +the citizen; “and this reputation which he justly enjoys had decided me to +confide a secret to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, monsieur, speak,” said D’Artagnan, who instinctively scented something +advantageous. +</p> + +<p> +The citizen made a fresh pause and continued, “I have a wife who is seamstress +to the queen, monsieur, and who is not deficient in either virtue or beauty. I +was induced to marry her about three years ago, although she had but very +little dowry, because Monsieur Laporte, the queen’s cloak bearer, is her +godfather, and befriends her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” resumed the citizen, “well, monsieur, my wife was abducted yesterday +morning, as she was coming out of her workroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by whom was your wife abducted?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing surely, monsieur, but I suspect someone.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who is the person whom you suspect?” +</p> + +<p> +“A man who has pursued her a long time.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” +</p> + +<p> +“But allow me to tell you, monsieur,” continued the citizen, “that I am +convinced that there is less love than politics in all this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Less love than politics,” replied D’Artagnan, with a reflective air; “and what +do you suspect?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know whether I ought to tell you what I suspect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I beg you to observe that I ask you absolutely nothing. It is you +who have come to me. It is you who have told me that you had a secret to +confide in me. Act, then, as you think proper; there is still time to +withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, no; you appear to be an honest young man, and I will have +confidence in you. I believe, then, that it is not on account of any intrigues +of her own that my wife has been arrested, but because of those of a lady much +greater than herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! Can it be on account of the amours of Madame de Bois-Tracy?” said +D’Artagnan, wishing to have the air, in the eyes of the citizen, of being +posted as to court affairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Higher, monsieur, higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Madame d’Aiguillon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Still higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Madame de Chevreuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Higher, much higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the—” D’Artagnan checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” replied the terrified citizen, in a tone so low that he was +scarcely audible. +</p> + +<p> +“And with whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom can it be, if not the Duke of—” +</p> + +<p> +“The Duke of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” replied the citizen, giving a still fainter intonation to his +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“But how do you know all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, how do you know it? No half-confidence, or—you understand!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it from my wife, monsieur—from my wife herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who learns it from whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Monsieur Laporte. Did I not tell you that she was the goddaughter of +Monsieur Laporte, the confidential man of the queen? Well, Monsieur Laporte +placed her near her Majesty in order that our poor queen might at least have +someone in whom she could place confidence, abandoned as she is by the king, +watched as she is by the cardinal, betrayed as she is by everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! It begins to develop itself,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my wife came home four days ago, monsieur. One of her conditions was that +she should come and see me twice a week; for, as I had the honor to tell you, +my wife loves me dearly—my wife, then, came and confided to me that the +queen at that very moment entertained great fears.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The cardinal, as it appears, pursues her and persecutes her more than +ever. He cannot pardon her the history of the Saraband. You know the history of +the Saraband?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> Know it!” replied D’Artagnan, who knew nothing about it, but +who wished to appear to know everything that was going on. +</p> + +<p> +“So that now it is no longer hatred, but vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“And the queen believes—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what does the queen believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“She believes that someone has written to the Duke of Buckingham in her name.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the queen’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to make him come to Paris; and when once come to Paris, to draw him into +some snare.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! But your wife, monsieur, what has she to do with all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her devotion to the queen is known; and they wish either to remove her from +her mistress, or to intimidate her, in order to obtain her Majesty’s secrets, +or to seduce her and make use of her as a spy.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is likely,” said D’Artagnan; “but the man who has abducted her—do +you know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you that I believe I know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“His name?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know that; what I do know is that he is a creature of the cardinal, +his evil genius.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have seen him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my wife pointed him out to me one day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he anything remarkable about him by which one may recognize him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly; he is a noble of very lofty carriage, black hair, swarthy +complexion, piercing eye, white teeth, and has a scar on his temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“A scar on his temple!” cried D’Artagnan; “and with that, white teeth, a +piercing eye, dark complexion, black hair, and haughty carriage—why, +that’s my man of Meung.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is your man, do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; but that has nothing to do with it. No, I am wrong. On the contrary, +that simplifies the matter greatly. If your man is mine, with one blow I shall +obtain two revenges, that’s all; but where to find this man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no information as to his abiding place?” +</p> + +<p> +“None. One day, as I was conveying my wife back to the Louvre, he was coming +out as she was going in, and she showed him to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! The devil!” murmured D’Artagnan; “all this is vague enough. From +whom have you learned of the abduction of your wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Monsieur Laporte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he give you any details?” +</p> + +<p> +“He knew none himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have learned nothing from any other quarter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have received—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear I am committing a great imprudence.” +</p> + +<p> +“You always come back to that; but I must make you see this time that it is too +late to retreat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not retreat, <i>mordieu!</i>” cried the citizen, swearing in order to +rouse his courage. “Besides, by the faith of Bonacieux—” +</p> + +<p> +“You call yourself Bonacieux?” interrupted D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is my name.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said, then, by the word of Bonacieux. Pardon me for interrupting you, but +it appears to me that that name is familiar to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly, monsieur. I am your landlord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said D’Artagnan, half rising and bowing; “you are my landlord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, yes. And as it is three months since you have been here, and +though, distracted as you must be in your important occupations, you have +forgotten to pay me my rent—as, I say, I have not tormented you a single +instant, I thought you would appreciate my delicacy.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can it be otherwise, my dear Bonacieux?” replied D’Artagnan; “trust me, I +am fully grateful for such unparalleled conduct, and if, as I told you, I can +be of any service to you—” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, monsieur, I believe you; and as I was about to say, by the word +of Bonacieux, I have confidence in you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Finish, then, what you were about to say.” +</p> + +<p> +The citizen took a paper from his pocket, and presented it to D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“A letter?” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Which I received this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan opened it, and as the day was beginning to decline, he approached +the window to read it. The citizen followed him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Do not seek your wife,’” read D’Artagnan; “‘she will be restored to you when +there is no longer occasion for her. If you make a single step to find her you +are lost.’ +</p> + +<p> +“That’s pretty positive,” continued D’Artagnan; “but after all, it is but a +menace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but that menace terrifies me. I am not a fighting man at all, monsieur, +and I am afraid of the Bastille.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said D’Artagnan. “I have no greater regard for the Bastille than you. If +it were nothing but a sword thrust, why then—” +</p> + +<p> +“I have counted upon you on this occasion, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seeing you constantly surrounded by Musketeers of a very superb appearance, +and knowing that these Musketeers belong to Monsieur de Tréville, and were +consequently enemies of the cardinal, I thought that you and your friends, +while rendering justice to your poor queen, would be pleased to play his +Eminence an ill turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then I have thought that considering three months’ lodging, about which I +have said nothing—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; you have already given me that reason, and I find it excellent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reckoning still further, that as long as you do me the honor to remain in my +house I shall never speak to you about rent—” +</p> + +<p> +“Very kind!” +</p> + +<p> +“And adding to this, if there be need of it, meaning to offer you fifty +pistoles, if, against all probability, you should be short at the present +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Admirable! You are rich then, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am comfortably off, monsieur, that’s all; I have scraped together some such +things as an income of two or three thousand crowns in the haberdashery +business, but more particularly in venturing some funds in the last voyage of +the celebrated navigator Jean Moquet; so that you understand, +monsieur—But!—” cried the citizen. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do I see yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the street, facing your window, in the embrasure of that door—a man +wrapped in a cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he!” cried D’Artagnan and the citizen at the same time, each having +recognized his man. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, this time,” cried D’Artagnan, springing to his sword, “this time he will +not escape me!” +</p> + +<p> +Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he rushed out of the apartment. On the +staircase he met Athos and Porthos, who were coming to see him. They separated, +and D’Artagnan rushed between them like a dart. +</p> + +<p> +“Pah! Where are you going?” cried the two Musketeers in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“The man of Meung!” replied D’Artagnan, and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had more than once related to his friends his adventure with the +stranger, as well as the apparition of the beautiful foreigner, to whom this +man had confided some important missive. +</p> + +<p> +The opinion of Athos was that D’Artagnan had lost his letter in the skirmish. A +gentleman, in his opinion—and according to D’Artagnan’s portrait of him, +the stranger must be a gentleman—would be incapable of the baseness of +stealing a letter. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos saw nothing in all this but a love meeting, given by a lady to a +cavalier, or by a cavalier to a lady, which had been disturbed by the presence +of D’Artagnan and his yellow horse. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis said that as these sorts of affairs were mysterious, it was better not +to fathom them. +</p> + +<p> +They understood, then, from the few words which escaped from D’Artagnan, what +affair was in hand, and as they thought that overtaking his man, or losing +sight of him, D’Artagnan would return to his rooms, they kept on their way. +</p> + +<p> +When they entered D’Artagnan’s chamber, it was empty; the landlord, dreading +the consequences of the encounter which was doubtless about to take place +between the young man and the stranger, had, consistent with the character he +had given himself, judged it prudent to decamp. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>Chapter IX.<br/> +D’ARTAGNAN SHOWS HIMSELF</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">s</span> Athos and Porthos had foreseen, at the expiration of +a half hour, D’Artagnan returned. He had again missed his man, who had +disappeared as if by enchantment. D’Artagnan had run, sword in hand, through +all the neighboring streets, but had found nobody resembling the man he sought +for. Then he came back to the point where, perhaps, he ought to have begun, and +that was to knock at the door against which the stranger had leaned; but this +proved useless—for though he knocked ten or twelve times in succession, +no one answered, and some of the neighbors, who put their noses out of their +windows or were brought to their doors by the noise, had assured him that that +house, all the openings of which were tightly closed, had not been inhabited +for six months. +</p> + +<p> +While D’Artagnan was running through the streets and knocking at doors, Aramis +had joined his companions; so that on returning home D’Artagnan found the +reunion complete. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” cried the three Musketeers all together, on seeing D’Artagnan enter +with his brow covered with perspiration and his countenance upset with anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” cried he, throwing his sword upon the bed, “this man must be the devil +in person; he has disappeared like a phantom, like a shade, like a specter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe in apparitions?” asked Athos of Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“I never believe in anything I have not seen, and as I never have seen +apparitions, I don’t believe in them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Bible,” said Aramis, “makes our belief in them a law; the ghost of Samuel +appeared to Saul, and it is an article of faith that I should be very sorry to +see any doubt thrown upon, Porthos.” +</p> + +<p> +“At all events, man or devil, body or shadow, illusion or reality, this man is +born for my damnation; for his flight has caused us to miss a glorious affair, +gentlemen—an affair by which there were a hundred pistoles, and perhaps +more, to be gained.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is that?” cried Porthos and Aramis in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +As to Athos, faithful to his system of reticence, he contented himself with +interrogating D’Artagnan by a look. +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet,” said D’Artagnan to his domestic, who just then insinuated his head +through the half-open door in order to catch some fragments of the +conversation, “go down to my landlord, Monsieur Bonacieux, and ask him to send +me half a dozen bottles of Beaugency wine; I prefer that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! You have credit with your landlord, then?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied D’Artagnan, “from this very day; and mind, if the wine is bad, +we will send him to find better.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must use, and not abuse,” said Aramis, sententiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I always said that D’Artagnan had the longest head of the four,” said Athos, +who, having uttered his opinion, to which D’Artagnan replied with a bow, +immediately resumed his accustomed silence. +</p> + +<p> +“But come, what is this about?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Aramis, “impart it to us, my dear friend, unless the honor of any +lady be hazarded by this confidence; in that case you would do better to keep +it to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied,” replied D’Artagnan; “the honor of no one will have cause to +complain of what I have to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +He then related to his friends, word for word, all that had passed between him +and his host, and how the man who had abducted the wife of his worthy landlord +was the same with whom he had had the difference at the hostelry of the Jolly +Miller. +</p> + +<p> +“Your affair is not bad,” said Athos, after having tasted like a connoisseur +and indicated by a nod of his head that he thought the wine good; “and one may +draw fifty or sixty pistoles from this good man. Then there only remains to +ascertain whether these fifty or sixty pistoles are worth the risk of four +heads.” +</p> + +<p> +“But observe,” cried D’Artagnan, “that there is a woman in the affair—a +woman carried off, a woman who is doubtless threatened, tortured perhaps, and +all because she is faithful to her mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beware, D’Artagnan, beware,” said Aramis. “You grow a little too warm, in my +opinion, about the fate of Madame Bonacieux. Woman was created for our +destruction, and it is from her we inherit all our miseries.” +</p> + +<p> +At this speech of Aramis, the brow of Athos became clouded and he bit his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not Madame Bonacieux about whom I am anxious,” cried D’Artagnan, “but +the queen, whom the king abandons, whom the cardinal persecutes, and who sees +the heads of all her friends fall, one after the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why does she love what we hate most in the world, the Spaniards and the +English?” +</p> + +<p> +“Spain is her country,” replied D’Artagnan; “and it is very natural that she +should love the Spanish, who are the children of the same soil as herself. As +to the second reproach, I have heard it said that she does not love the +English, but an Englishman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and by my faith,” said Athos, “it must be acknowledged that this +Englishman is worthy of being loved. I never saw a man with a nobler air than +his.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without reckoning that he dresses as nobody else can,” said Porthos. “I was at +the Louvre on the day when he scattered his pearls; and, <i>pardieu</i>, I +picked up two that I sold for ten pistoles each. Do you know him, Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“As well as you do, gentlemen; for I was among those who seized him in the +garden at Amiens, into which Monsieur Putange, the queen’s equerry, introduced +me. I was at school at the time, and the adventure appeared to me to be cruel +for the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which would not prevent me,” said D’Artagnan, “if I knew where the Duke of +Buckingham was, from taking him by the hand and conducting him to the queen, +were it only to enrage the cardinal, and if we could find means to play him a +sharp turn, I vow that I would voluntarily risk my head in doing it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did the mercer*,” rejoined Athos, “tell you, D’Artagnan, that the queen +thought that Buckingham had been brought over by a forged letter?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Haberdasher +</p> + +<p> +“She is afraid so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, then,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” demanded Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, while I endeavor to recall circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now I am convinced,” said D’Artagnan, “that this abduction of the queen’s +woman is connected with the events of which we are speaking, and perhaps with +the presence of Buckingham in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Gascon is full of ideas,” said Porthos, with admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“I like to hear him talk,” said Athos; “his dialect amuses me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” cried Aramis, “listen to this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to Aramis,” said his three friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday I was at the house of a doctor of theology, whom I sometimes consult +about my studies.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“He resides in a quiet quarter,” continued Aramis; “his tastes and his +profession require it. Now, at the moment when I left his house—” +</p> + +<p> +Here Aramis paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” cried his auditors; “at the moment you left his house?” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis appeared to make a strong inward effort, like a man who, in the full +relation of a falsehood, finds himself stopped by some unforeseen obstacle; but +the eyes of his three companions were fixed upon him, their ears were wide +open, and there were no means of retreat. +</p> + +<p> +“This doctor has a niece,” continued Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, he has a niece!” interrupted Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“A very respectable lady,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +The three friends burst into laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if you laugh, if you doubt me,” replied Aramis, “you shall know nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“We believe like Mohammedans, and are as mute as tombstones,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I will continue, then,” resumed Aramis. “This niece comes sometimes to see her +uncle; and by chance was there yesterday at the same time that I was, and it +was my duty to offer to conduct her to her carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! She has a carriage, then, this niece of the doctor?” interrupted Porthos, +one of whose faults was a great looseness of tongue. “A nice acquaintance, my +friend!” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos,” replied Aramis, “I have had the occasion to observe to you more than +once that you are very indiscreet; and that is injurious to you among the +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” cried D’Artagnan, who began to get a glimpse of the +result of the adventure, “the thing is serious. Let us try not to jest, if we +can. Go on Aramis, go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“All at once, a tall, dark gentleman—just like yours, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“The same, perhaps,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly,” continued Aramis, “came toward me, accompanied by five or six men +who followed about ten paces behind him; and in the politest tone, ‘Monsieur +Duke,’ said he to me, ‘and you madame,’ continued he, addressing the lady on my +arm—” +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor’s niece?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, Porthos,” said Athos; “you are insupportable.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘—will you enter this carriage, and that without offering the least +resistance, without making the least noise?’” +</p> + +<p> +“He took you for Buckingham!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“But the lady?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“He took her for the queen!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“The Gascon is the devil!” cried Athos; “nothing escapes him.” +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is,” said Porthos, “Aramis is of the same height, and something of +the shape of the duke; but it nevertheless appears to me that the dress of a +Musketeer—” +</p> + +<p> +“I wore an enormous cloak,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“In the month of July? The devil!” said Porthos. “Is the doctor afraid that you +may be recognized?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can comprehend that the spy may have been deceived by the person; but the +face—” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a large hat,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good lord,” cried Porthos, “what precautions for the study of theology!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “do not let us lose our time in +jesting. Let us separate, and let us seek the mercer’s wife—that is the +key of the intrigue.” +</p> + +<p> +“A woman of such inferior condition! Can you believe so?” said Porthos, +protruding his lips with contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“She is goddaughter to Laporte, the confidential valet of the queen. Have I not +told you so, gentlemen? Besides, it has perhaps been her Majesty’s calculation +to seek on this occasion for support so lowly. High heads expose themselves +from afar, and the cardinal is longsighted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “in the first place make a bargain with the mercer, and a +good bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s useless,” said D’Artagnan; “for I believe if he does not pay us, we +shall be well enough paid by another party.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a sudden noise of footsteps was heard upon the stairs; the door +was thrown violently open, and the unfortunate mercer rushed into the chamber +in which the council was held. +</p> + +<p> +“Save me, gentlemen, for the love of heaven, save me!” cried he. “There are +four men come to arrest me. Save me! Save me!” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis arose. +</p> + +<p> +“A moment,” cried D’Artagnan, making them a sign to replace in the scabbard +their half-drawn swords. “It is not courage that is needed; it is prudence.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” cried Porthos, “we will not leave—” +</p> + +<p> +“You will leave D’Artagnan to act as he thinks proper,” said Athos. “He has, I +repeat, the longest head of the four, and for my part I declare that I will +obey him. Do as you think best, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the four Guards appeared at the door of the antechamber, but +seeing four Musketeers standing, and their swords by their sides, they +hesitated about going farther. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, gentlemen, come in,” called D’Artagnan; “you are here in my +apartment, and we are all faithful servants of the king and cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, gentlemen, you will not oppose our executing the orders we have +received?” asked one who appeared to be the leader of the party. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, gentlemen, we would assist you if it were necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does he say?” grumbled Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a simpleton,” said Athos. “Silence!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you promised me—” whispered the poor mercer. +</p> + +<p> +“We can only save you by being free ourselves,” replied D’Artagnan, in a rapid, +low tone; “and if we appear inclined to defend you, they will arrest us with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems, nevertheless—” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, gentlemen, come!” said D’Artagnan, aloud; “I have no motive for +defending Monsieur. I saw him today for the first time, and he can tell you on +what occasion; he came to demand the rent of my lodging. Is that not true, +Monsieur Bonacieux? Answer!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the very truth,” cried the mercer; “but Monsieur does not tell +you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, with respect to me, silence, with respect to my friends; silence +about the queen, above all, or you will ruin everybody without saving yourself! +Come, come, gentlemen, remove the fellow.” And D’Artagnan pushed the +half-stupefied mercer among the Guards, saying to him, “You are a shabby old +fellow, my dear. You come to demand money of me—of a Musketeer! To prison +with him! Gentlemen, once more, take him to prison, and keep him under key as +long as possible; that will give me time to pay him.” +</p> + +<p> +The officers were full of thanks, and took away their prey. As they were going +down D’Artagnan laid his hand on the shoulder of their leader. +</p> + +<p> +“May I not drink to your health, and you to mine?” said D’Artagnan, filling two +glasses with the Beaugency wine which he had obtained from the liberality of M. +Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do me great honor,” said the leader of the posse, “and I accept +thankfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then to yours, monsieur—what is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Boisrenard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Boisrenard.” +</p> + +<p> +“To yours, my gentlemen! What is your name, in your turn, if you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“To yours, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And above all others,” cried D’Artagnan, as if carried away by his enthusiasm, +“to that of the king and the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +The leader of the posse would perhaps have doubted the sincerity of D’Artagnan +if the wine had been bad; but the wine was good, and he was convinced. +</p> + +<p> +“What diabolical villainy you have performed here,” said Porthos, when the +officer had rejoined his companions and the four friends found themselves +alone. “Shame, shame, for four Musketeers to allow an unfortunate fellow who +cried for help to be arrested in their midst! And a gentleman to hobnob with a +bailiff!” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos,” said Aramis, “Athos has already told you that you are a simpleton, +and I am quite of his opinion. D’Artagnan, you are a great man; and when you +occupy Monsieur de Tréville’s place, I will come and ask your influence to +secure me an abbey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am in a maze,” said Porthos; “do <i>you</i> approve of what D’Artagnan +has done?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> Indeed I do,” said Athos; “I not only approve of what he has +done, but I congratulate him upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, without stopping to explain his conduct +to Porthos, “All for one, one for all—that is our motto, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet—” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold out your hand and swear!” cried Athos and Aramis at once. +</p> + +<p> +Overcome by example, grumbling to himself, nevertheless, Porthos stretched out +his hand, and the four friends repeated with one voice the formula dictated by +D’Artagnan: +</p> + +<p> +“All for one, one for all.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well! Now let us everyone retire to his own home,” said D’Artagnan, as +if he had done nothing but command all his life; “and attention! For from this +moment we are at feud with the cardinal.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>Chapter X.<br/> +A MOUSETRAP IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> invention of the mousetrap does not date from our +days; as soon as societies, in forming, had invented any kind of police, that +police invented mousetraps. +</p> + +<p> +As perhaps our readers are not familiar with the slang of the Rue de Jerusalem, +and as it is fifteen years since we applied this word for the first time to +this thing, allow us to explain to them what is a mousetrap. +</p> + +<p> +When in a house, of whatever kind it may be, an individual suspected of any +crime is arrested, the arrest is held secret. Four or five men are placed in +ambuscade in the first room. The door is opened to all who knock. It is closed +after them, and they are arrested; so that at the end of two or three days they +have in their power almost all the <i>habitués</i> of the establishment. And +that is a mousetrap. +</p> + +<p> +The apartment of M. Bonacieux, then, became a mousetrap; and whoever appeared +there was taken and interrogated by the cardinal’s people. It must be observed +that as a separate passage led to the first floor, in which D’Artagnan lodged, +those who called on him were exempted from this detention. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, nobody came thither but the three Musketeers; they had all been +engaged in earnest search and inquiries, but had discovered nothing. Athos had +even gone so far as to question M. de Tréville—a thing which, considering +the habitual reticence of the worthy Musketeer, had very much astonished his +captain. But M. de Tréville knew nothing, except that the last time he had seen +the cardinal, the king, and the queen, the cardinal looked very thoughtful, the +king uneasy, and the redness of the queen’s eyes donated that she had been +sleepless or tearful. But this last circumstance was not striking, as the queen +since her marriage had slept badly and wept much. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville requested Athos, whatever might happen, to be observant of his +duty to the king, but particularly to the queen, begging him to convey his +desires to his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +As to D’Artagnan, he did not budge from his apartment. He converted his chamber +into an observatory. From his windows he saw all the visitors who were caught. +Then, having removed a plank from his floor, and nothing remaining but a simple +ceiling between him and the room beneath, in which the interrogatories were +made, he heard all that passed between the inquisitors and the accused. +</p> + +<p> +The interrogatories, preceded by a minute search operated upon the persons +arrested, were almost always framed thus: “Has Madame Bonacieux sent anything +to you for her husband, or any other person? Has Monsieur Bonacieux sent +anything to you for his wife, or for any other person? Has either of them +confided anything to you by word of mouth?” +</p> + +<p> +“If they knew anything, they would not question people in this manner,” said +D’Artagnan to himself. “Now, what is it they want to know? Why, they want to +know if the Duke of Buckingham is in Paris, and if he has had, or is likely to +have, an interview with the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan held onto this idea, which, from what he had heard, was not wanting +in probability. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, the mousetrap continued in operation, and likewise +D’Artagnan’s vigilance. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the day after the arrest of poor Bonacieux, as Athos had just +left D’Artagnan to report at M. de Tréville’s, as nine o’clock had just struck, +and as Planchet, who had not yet made the bed, was beginning his task, a +knocking was heard at the street door. The door was instantly opened and shut; +someone was taken in the mousetrap. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan flew to his hole, laid himself down on the floor at full length, and +listened. +</p> + +<p> +Cries were soon heard, and then moans, which someone appeared to be endeavoring +to stifle. There were no questions. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said D’Artagnan to himself. “It seems like a woman! They search +her; she resists; they use force—the scoundrels!” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his prudence, D’Artagnan restrained himself with great difficulty +from taking a part in the scene that was going on below. +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you that I am the mistress of the house, gentlemen! I tell you I am +Madame Bonacieux; I tell you I belong to the queen!” cried the unfortunate +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Bonacieux!” murmured D’Artagnan. “Can I be so lucky as to find what +everybody is seeking for?” +</p> + +<p> +The voice became more and more indistinct; a tumultuous movement shook the +partition. The victim resisted as much as a woman could resist four men. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, gentlemen—par—” murmured the voice, which could now only +be heard in inarticulate sounds. +</p> + +<p> +“They are binding her; they are going to drag her away,” cried D’Artagnan to +himself, springing up from the floor. “My sword! Good, it is by my side! +Planchet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Run and seek Athos, Porthos and Aramis. One of the three will certainly be at +home, perhaps all three. Tell them to take arms, to come here, and to run! Ah, +I remember, Athos is at Monsieur de Tréville’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where are you going, monsieur, where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going down by the window, in order to be there the sooner,” cried +D’Artagnan. “You put back the boards, sweep the floor, go out at the door, and +run as I told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur! Monsieur! You will kill yourself,” cried Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, stupid fellow,” said D’Artagnan; and laying hold of the +casement, he let himself gently down from the first story, which fortunately +was not very elevated, without doing himself the slightest injury. +</p> + +<p> +He then went straight to the door and knocked, murmuring, “I will go myself and +be caught in the mousetrap, but woe be to the cats that shall pounce upon such +a mouse!” +</p> + +<p> +The knocker had scarcely sounded under the hand of the young man before the +tumult ceased, steps approached, the door was opened, and D’Artagnan, sword in +hand, rushed into the rooms of M. Bonacieux, the door of which, doubtless acted +upon by a spring, closed after him. +</p> + +<p> +Then those who dwelt in Bonacieux’s unfortunate house, together with the +nearest neighbors, heard loud cries, stamping of feet, clashing of swords, and +breaking of furniture. A moment after, those who, surprised by this tumult, had +gone to their windows to learn the cause of it, saw the door open, and four +men, clothed in black, not <i>come</i> out of it, but <i>fly</i>, like so many +frightened crows, leaving on the ground and on the corners of the furniture, +feathers from their wings; that is to say, patches of their clothes and +fragments of their cloaks. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was conqueror—without much effort, it must be confessed, for +only one of the officers was armed, and even he defended himself for form’s +sake. It is true that the three others had endeavored to knock the young man +down with chairs, stools, and crockery; but two or three scratches made by the +Gascon’s blade terrified them. Ten minutes sufficed for their defeat, and +D’Artagnan remained master of the field of battle. +</p> + +<p> +The neighbors who had opened their windows, with the coolness peculiar to the +inhabitants of Paris in these times of perpetual riots and disturbances, closed +them again as soon as they saw the four men in black flee—their instinct +telling them that for the time all was over. Besides, it began to grow late, +and then, as today, people went to bed early in the quarter of the Luxembourg. +</p> + +<p> +On being left alone with Mme. Bonacieux, D’Artagnan turned toward her; the poor +woman reclined where she had been left, half-fainting upon an armchair. +D’Artagnan examined her with a rapid glance. +</p> + +<p> +She was a charming woman of twenty-five or twenty-six years, with dark hair, +blue eyes, and a nose slightly turned up, admirable teeth, and a complexion +marbled with rose and opal. There, however, ended the signs which might have +confounded her with a lady of rank. The hands were white, but without delicacy; +the feet did not bespeak the woman of quality. Happily, D’Artagnan was not yet +acquainted with such niceties. +</p> + +<p> +While D’Artagnan was examining Mme. Bonacieux, and was, as we have said, close +to her, he saw on the ground a fine cambric handkerchief, which he picked up, +as was his habit, and at the corner of which he recognized the same cipher he +had seen on the handkerchief which had nearly caused him and Aramis to cut each +other’s throat. +</p> + +<p> +From that time, D’Artagnan had been cautious with respect to handkerchiefs with +arms on them, and he therefore placed in the pocket of Mme. Bonacieux the one +he had just picked up. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Mme. Bonacieux recovered her senses. She opened her eyes, looked +around her with terror, saw that the apartment was empty and that she was alone +with her liberator. She extended her hands to him with a smile. Mme. Bonacieux +had the sweetest smile in the world. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” said she, “you have saved me; permit me to thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said D’Artagnan, “I have only done what every gentleman would have +done in my place; you owe me no thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, monsieur, oh, yes; and I hope to prove to you that you have not +served an ingrate. But what could these men, whom I at first took for robbers, +want with me, and why is Monsieur Bonacieux not here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, those men were more dangerous than any robbers could have been, for +they are the agents of the cardinal; and as to your husband, Monsieur +Bonacieux, he is not here because he was yesterday evening conducted to the +Bastille.” +</p> + +<p> +“My husband in the Bastille!” cried Mme. Bonacieux. “Oh, my God! What has he +done? Poor dear man, he is innocence itself!” +</p> + +<p> +And something like a faint smile lighted the still-terrified features of the +young woman. +</p> + +<p> +“What has he done, madame?” said D’Artagnan. “I believe that his only crime is +to have at the same time the good fortune and the misfortune to be your +husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur, you know then—” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that you have been abducted, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by whom? Do you know him? Oh, if you know him, tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +“By a man of from forty to forty-five years, with black hair, a dark +complexion, and a scar on his left temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is he, that is he; but his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, his name? I do not know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did my husband know I had been carried off?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was informed of it by a letter, written to him by the abductor himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And does he suspect,” said Mme. Bonacieux, with some embarrassment, “the cause +of this event?” +</p> + +<p> +“He attributed it, I believe, to a political cause.” +</p> + +<p> +“I doubted from the first; and now I think entirely as he does. Then my dear +Monsieur Bonacieux has not suspected me a single instant?” +</p> + +<p> +“So far from it, madame, he was too proud of your prudence, and above all, of +your love.” +</p> + +<p> +A second smile, almost imperceptible, stole over the rosy lips of the pretty +young woman. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued D’Artagnan, “how did you escape?” +</p> + +<p> +“I took advantage of a moment when they left me alone; and as I had known since +morning the reason of my abduction, with the help of the sheets I let myself +down from the window. Then, as I believed my husband would be at home, I +hastened hither.” +</p> + +<p> +“To place yourself under his protection?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, poor dear man! I knew very well that he was incapable of defending me; +but as he could serve us in other ways, I wished to inform him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is not my secret; I must not, therefore, tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” said D’Artagnan, “pardon me, madame, if, guardsman as I am, I remind +you of prudence—besides, I believe we are not here in a very proper place +for imparting confidences. The men I have put to flight will return reinforced; +if they find us here, we are lost. I have sent for three of my friends, but who +knows whether they were at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! You are right,” cried the affrighted Mme. Bonacieux; “let us fly! +Let us save ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words she passed her arm under that of D’Artagnan, and urged him +forward eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“But whither shall we fly—whither escape?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us first withdraw from this house; afterward we shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman and the young man, without taking the trouble to shut the door +after them, descended the Rue des Fossoyeurs rapidly, turned into the Rue des +Fossés-Monsieur-le-Prince, and did not stop till they came to the Place St. +Sulpice. +</p> + +<p> +“And now what are we to do, and where do you wish me to conduct you?” asked +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I am at quite a loss how to answer you, I admit,” said Mme. Bonacieux. “My +intention was to inform Monsieur Laporte, through my husband, in order that +Monsieur Laporte might tell us precisely what had taken place at the Louvre in +the last three days, and whether there is any danger in presenting myself +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I,” said D’Artagnan, “can go and inform Monsieur Laporte.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt you could, only there is one misfortune, and that is that Monsieur +Bonacieux is known at the Louvre, and would be allowed to pass; whereas you are +not known there, and the gate would be closed against you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, bah!” said D’Artagnan; “you have at some wicket of the Louvre a +<i>concierge</i> who is devoted to you, and who, thanks to a password, +would—” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux looked earnestly at the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“And if I give you this password,” said she, “would you forget it as soon as +you used it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By my honor, by the faith of a gentleman!” said D’Artagnan, with an accent so +truthful that no one could mistake it. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I believe you. You appear to be a brave young man; besides, your fortune +may perhaps be the result of your devotedness.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do, without a promise and voluntarily, all that I can do to serve the +king and be agreeable to the queen. Dispose of me, then, as a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I—where shall I go meanwhile?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nobody from whose house Monsieur Laporte can come and fetch you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can trust nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop,” said D’Artagnan; “we are near Athos’s door. Yes, here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he should be at home and see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is not at home, and I will carry away the key, after having placed you in +his apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he should return?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he won’t return; and if he should, he will be told that I have brought a +woman with me, and that woman is in his apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that will compromise me sadly, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what consequence? Nobody knows you. Besides, we are in a situation to +overlook ceremony.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then, let us go to your friend’s house. Where does he live?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rue Férou, two steps from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go!” +</p> + +<p> +Both resumed their way. As D’Artagnan had foreseen, Athos was not within. He +took the key, which was customarily given him as one of the family, ascended +the stairs, and introduced Mme. Bonacieux into the little apartment of which we +have given a description. +</p> + +<p> +“You are at home,” said he. “Remain here, fasten the door inside, and open it +to nobody unless you hear three taps like this;” and he tapped thrice—two +taps close together and pretty hard, the other after an interval, and lighter. +</p> + +<p> +“That is well,” said Mme. Bonacieux. “Now, in my turn, let me give you my +instructions.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am all attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Present yourself at the wicket of the Louvre, on the side of the Rue de +l’Echelle, and ask for Germain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and then?” +</p> + +<p> +“He will ask you what you want, and you will answer by these two words, ‘Tours’ +and ‘Bruxelles.’ He will at once put himself at your orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what shall I command him?” +</p> + +<p> +“To go and fetch Monsieur Laporte, the queen’s <i>valet de chambre</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when he shall have informed him, and Monsieur Laporte is come?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will send him to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well; but where and how shall I see you again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish to see me again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let that care be mine, and be at ease.” +</p> + +<p> +“I depend upon your word.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan bowed to Mme. Bonacieux, darting at her the most loving glance that +he could possibly concentrate upon her charming little person; and while he +descended the stairs, he heard the door closed and double-locked. In two bounds +he was at the Louvre; as he entered the wicket of L’Echelle, ten o’clock +struck. All the events we have described had taken place within a half hour. +</p> + +<p> +Everything fell out as Mme. Bonacieux prophesied. On hearing the password, +Germain bowed. In a few minutes, Laporte was at the lodge; in two words +D’Artagnan informed him where Mme. Bonacieux was. Laporte assured himself, by +having it twice repeated, of the accurate address, and set off at a run. +Hardly, however, had he taken ten steps before he returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Young man,” said he to D’Artagnan, “a suggestion.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may get into trouble by what has taken place.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Have you any friend whose clock is too slow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go and call upon him, in order that he may give evidence of your having been +with him at half past nine. In a court of justice that is called an alibi.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan found his advice prudent. He took to his heels, and was soon at M. +de Tréville’s; but instead of going into the saloon with the rest of the crowd, +he asked to be introduced to M. de Tréville’s office. As D’Artagnan so +constantly frequented the hôtel, no difficulty was made in complying with his +request, and a servant went to inform M. de Tréville that his young compatriot, +having something important to communicate, solicited a private audience. Five +minutes after, M. de Tréville was asking D’Artagnan what he could do to serve +him, and what caused his visit at so late an hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, who had profited by the moment he had +been left alone to put back M. de Tréville’s clock three-quarters of an hour, +“but I thought, as it was yet only twenty-five minutes past nine, it was not +too late to wait upon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-five minutes past nine!” cried M. de Tréville, looking at the clock; +“why, that’s impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, rather, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, “the clock shows it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said M. de Tréville; “I believed it later. But what can I do for +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan told M. de Tréville a long history about the queen. He +expressed to him the fears he entertained with respect to her Majesty; he +related to him what he had heard of the projects of the cardinal with regard to +Buckingham, and all with a tranquillity and candor of which M. de Tréville was +the more the dupe, from having himself, as we have said, observed something +fresh between the cardinal, the king, and the queen. +</p> + +<p> +As ten o’clock was striking, D’Artagnan left M. de Tréville, who thanked him +for his information, recommended him to have the service of the king and queen +always at heart, and returned to the saloon; but at the foot of the stairs, +D’Artagnan remembered he had forgotten his cane. He consequently sprang up +again, re-entered the office, with a turn of his finger set the clock right +again, that it might not be perceived the next day that it had been put wrong, +and certain from that time that he had a witness to prove his alibi, he ran +downstairs and soon found himself in the street. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>Chapter XI.<br/> +IN WHICH THE PLOT THICKENS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">H</span><span +class="dropspan">is</span> visit to M. de Tréville being paid, the pensive +D’Artagnan took the longest way homeward. +</p> + +<p> +On what was D’Artagnan thinking, that he strayed thus from his path, gazing at +the stars of heaven, and sometimes sighing, sometimes smiling? +</p> + +<p> +He was thinking of Mme. Bonacieux. For an apprentice Musketeer the young woman +was almost an ideal of love. Pretty, mysterious, initiated in almost all the +secrets of the court, which reflected such a charming gravity over her pleasing +features, it might be surmised that she was not wholly unmoved; and this is an +irresistible charm to novices in love. Moreover, D’Artagnan had delivered her +from the hands of the demons who wished to search and ill treat her; and this +important service had established between them one of those sentiments of +gratitude which so easily assume a more tender character. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan already fancied himself, so rapid is the flight of our dreams upon +the wings of imagination, accosted by a messenger from the young woman, who +brought him some billet appointing a meeting, a gold chain, or a diamond. We +have observed that young cavaliers received presents from their king without +shame. Let us add that in these times of lax morality they had no more delicacy +with respect to the mistresses; and that the latter almost always left them +valuable and durable remembrances, as if they essayed to conquer the fragility +of their sentiments by the solidity of their gifts. +</p> + +<p> +Without a blush, men made their way in the world by the means of women +blushing. Such as were only beautiful gave their beauty, whence, without doubt, +comes the proverb, “The most beautiful girl in the world can only give what she +has.” Such as were rich gave in addition a part of their money; and a vast +number of heroes of that gallant period may be cited who would neither have won +their spurs in the first place, nor their battles afterward, without the purse, +more or less furnished, which their mistress fastened to the saddle bow. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan owned nothing. Provincial diffidence, that slight varnish, the +ephemeral flower, that down of the peach, had evaporated to the winds through +the little orthodox counsels which the three Musketeers gave their friend. +D’Artagnan, following the strange custom of the times, considered himself at +Paris as on a campaign, neither more nor less than if he had been in +Flanders—Spain yonder, woman here. In each there was an enemy to contend +with, and contributions to be levied. +</p> + +<p> +But, we must say, at the present moment D’Artagnan was ruled by a feeling much +more noble and disinterested. The mercer had said that he was rich; the young +man might easily guess that with so weak a man as M. Bonacieux; and interest +was almost foreign to this commencement of love, which had been the consequence +of it. We say <i>almost</i>, for the idea that a young, handsome, kind, and +witty woman is at the same time rich takes nothing from the beginning of love, +but on the contrary strengthens it. +</p> + +<p> +There are in affluence a crowd of aristocratic cares and caprices which are +highly becoming to beauty. A fine and white stocking, a silken robe, a lace +kerchief, a pretty slipper on the foot, a tasty ribbon on the head do not make +an ugly woman pretty, but they make a pretty woman beautiful, without reckoning +the hands, which gain by all this; the hands, among women particularly, to be +beautiful must be idle. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan, as the reader, from whom we have not concealed the state of +his fortune, very well knows—D’Artagnan was not a millionaire; he hoped +to become one someday, but the time which in his own mind he fixed upon for +this happy change was still far distant. In the meanwhile, how disheartening to +see the woman one loves long for those thousands of nothings which constitute a +woman’s happiness, and be unable to give her those thousands of nothings. At +least, when the woman is rich and the lover is not, that which he cannot offer +she offers to herself; and although it is generally with her husband’s money +that she procures herself this indulgence, the gratitude for it seldom reverts +to him. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan, disposed to become the most tender of lovers, was at the same +time a very devoted friend. In the midst of his amorous projects for the +mercer’s wife, he did not forget his friends. The pretty Mme. Bonacieux was +just the woman to walk with in the Plain St. Denis or in the fair of St. +Germain, in company with Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, to whom D’Artagnan had +often remarked this. Then one could enjoy charming little dinners, where one +touches on one side the hand of a friend, and on the other the foot of a +mistress. Besides, on pressing occasions, in extreme difficulties, D’Artagnan +would become the preserver of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +And M. Bonacieux, whom D’Artagnan had pushed into the hands of the officers, +denying him aloud although he had promised in a whisper to save him? We are +compelled to admit to our readers that D’Artagnan thought nothing about him in +any way; or that if he did think of him, it was only to say to himself that he +was very well where he was, wherever it might be. Love is the most selfish of +all the passions. +</p> + +<p> +Let our readers reassure themselves. If D’Artagnan forgets his host, or appears +to forget him, under the pretense of not knowing where he has been carried, we +will not forget him, and we know where he is. But for the moment, let us do as +did the amorous Gascon; we will see after the worthy mercer later. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, reflecting on his future amours, addressing himself to the +beautiful night, and smiling at the stars, ascended the Rue Cherish-Midi, or +Chase-Midi, as it was then called. As he found himself in the quarter in which +Aramis lived, he took it into his head to pay his friend a visit in order to +explain the motives which had led him to send Planchet with a request that he +would come instantly to the mousetrap. Now, if Aramis had been at home when +Planchet came to his abode, he had doubtless hastened to the Rue des +Fossoyeurs, and finding nobody there but his other two companions perhaps, they +would not be able to conceive what all this meant. This mystery required an +explanation; at least, so D’Artagnan declared to himself. +</p> + +<p> +He likewise thought this was an opportunity for talking about pretty little +Mme. Bonacieux, of whom his head, if not his heart, was already full. We must +never look for discretion in first love. First love is accompanied by such +excessive joy that unless the joy be allowed to overflow, it will stifle you. +</p> + +<p> +Paris for two hours past had been dark, and seemed a desert. Eleven o’clock +sounded from all the clocks of the Faubourg St. Germain. It was delightful +weather. D’Artagnan was passing along a lane on the spot where the Rue d’Assas +is now situated, breathing the balmy emanations which were borne upon the wind +from the Rue de Vaugirard, and which arose from the gardens refreshed by the +dews of evening and the breeze of night. From a distance resounded, deadened, +however, by good shutters, the songs of the tipplers, enjoying themselves in +the cabarets scattered along the plain. Arrived at the end of the lane, +D’Artagnan turned to the left. The house in which Aramis dwelt was situated +between the Rue Cassette and the Rue Servandoni. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had just passed the Rue Cassette, and already perceived the door of +his friend’s house, shaded by a mass of sycamores and clematis which formed a +vast arch opposite the front of it, when he perceived something like a shadow +issuing from the Rue Servandoni. This something was enveloped in a cloak, and +D’Artagnan at first believed it was a man; but by the smallness of the form, +the hesitation of the walk, and the indecision of the step, he soon discovered +that it was a woman. Further, this woman, as if not certain of the house she +was seeking, lifted up her eyes to look around her, stopped, went backward, and +then returned again. D’Artagnan was perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I go and offer her my services?” thought he. “By her step she must be +young; perhaps she is pretty. Oh, yes! But a woman who wanders in the streets +at this hour only ventures out to meet her lover. If I should disturb a +rendezvous, that would not be the best means of commencing an acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the young woman continued to advance, counting the houses and windows. +This was neither long nor difficult. There were but three hôtels in this part +of the street; and only two windows looking toward the road, one of which was +in a pavilion parallel to that which Aramis occupied, the other belonging to +Aramis himself. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i>” said D’Artagnan to himself, to whose mind the niece of the +theologian reverted, “<i>pardieu</i>, it would be droll if this belated dove +should be in search of our friend’s house. But on my soul, it looks so. Ah, my +dear Aramis, this time I shall find you out.” And D’Artagnan, making himself as +small as he could, concealed himself in the darkest side of the street near a +stone bench placed at the back of a niche. +</p> + +<p> +The young woman continued to advance; and in addition to the lightness of her +step, which had betrayed her, she emitted a little cough which denoted a sweet +voice. D’Artagnan believed this cough to be a signal. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, whether the cough had been answered by a similar signal which had +fixed the irresolution of the nocturnal seeker, or whether without this aid she +saw that she had arrived at the end of her journey, she resolutely drew near to +Aramis’s shutter, and tapped, at three equal intervals, with her bent finger. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all very fine, dear Aramis,” murmured D’Artagnan. “Ah, Monsieur +Hypocrite, I understand how you study theology.” +</p> + +<p> +The three blows were scarcely struck, when the inside blind was opened and a +light appeared through the panes of the outside shutter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said the listener, “not through doors, but through windows! Ah, this +visit was expected. We shall see the windows open, and the lady enter by +escalade. Very pretty!” +</p> + +<p> +But to the great astonishment of D’Artagnan, the shutter remained closed. Still +more, the light which had shone for an instant disappeared, and all was again +in obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan thought this could not last long, and continued to look with all his +eyes and listen with all his ears. +</p> + +<p> +He was right; at the end of some seconds two sharp taps were heard inside. The +young woman in the street replied by a single tap, and the shutter was opened a +little way. +</p> + +<p> +It may be judged whether D’Artagnan looked or listened with avidity. +Unfortunately the light had been removed into another chamber; but the eyes of +the young man were accustomed to the night. Besides, the eyes of the Gascons +have, as it is asserted, like those of cats, the faculty of seeing in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then saw that the young woman took from her pocket a white object, +which she unfolded quickly, and which took the form of a handkerchief. She made +her interlocutor observe the corner of this unfolded object. +</p> + +<p> +This immediately recalled to D’Artagnan’s mind the handkerchief which he had +found at the feet of Mme. Bonacieux, which had reminded him of that which he +had dragged from under the feet of Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil could that handkerchief signify?” +</p> + +<p> +Placed where he was, D’Artagnan could not perceive the face of Aramis. We say +Aramis, because the young man entertained no doubt that it was his friend who +held this dialogue from the interior with the lady of the exterior. Curiosity +prevailed over prudence; and profiting by the preoccupation into which the +sight of the handkerchief appeared to have plunged the two personages now on +the scene, he stole from his hiding place, and quick as lightning, but stepping +with utmost caution, he ran and placed himself close to the angle of the wall, +from which his eye could pierce the interior of Aramis’s room. +</p> + +<p> +Upon gaining this advantage D’Artagnan was near uttering a cry of surprise; it +was not Aramis who was conversing with the nocturnal visitor, it was a woman! +D’Artagnan, however, could only see enough to recognize the form of her +vestments, not enough to distinguish her features. +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant the woman inside drew a second handkerchief from her +pocket, and exchanged it for that which had just been shown to her. Then some +words were spoken by the two women. At length the shutter closed. The woman who +was outside the window turned round, and passed within four steps of +D’Artagnan, pulling down the hood of her mantle; but the precaution was too +late, D’Artagnan had already recognized Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux! The suspicion that it was she had crossed the mind of +D’Artagnan when she drew the handkerchief from her pocket; but what probability +was there that Mme. Bonacieux, who had sent for M. Laporte in order to be +reconducted to the Louvre, should be running about the streets of Paris at half +past eleven at night, at the risk of being abducted a second time? +</p> + +<p> +This must be, then, an affair of importance; and what is the most important +affair to a woman of twenty-five! Love. +</p> + +<p> +But was it on her own account, or on account of another, that she exposed +herself to such hazards? This was a question the young man asked himself, whom +the demon of jealousy already gnawed, being in heart neither more nor less than +an accepted lover. +</p> + +<p> +There was a very simple means of satisfying himself whither Mme. Bonacieux was +going; that was to follow her. This method was so simple that D’Artagnan +employed it quite naturally and instinctively. +</p> + +<p> +But at the sight of the young man, who detached himself from the wall like a +statue walking from its niche, and at the noise of the steps which she heard +resound behind her, Mme. Bonacieux uttered a little cry and fled. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan ran after her. It was not difficult for him to overtake a woman +embarrassed with her cloak. He came up with her before she had traversed a +third of the street. The unfortunate woman was exhausted, not by fatigue, but +by terror, and when D’Artagnan placed his hand upon her shoulder, she sank upon +one knee, crying in a choking voice, “Kill me, if you please, you shall know +nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan raised her by passing his arm round her waist; but as he felt by her +weight she was on the point of fainting, he made haste to reassure her by +protestations of devotedness. These protestations were nothing for Mme. +Bonacieux, for such protestations may be made with the worst intentions in the +world; but the voice was all. Mme. Bonacieux thought she recognized the sound +of that voice; she reopened her eyes, cast a quick glance upon the man who had +terrified her so, and at once perceiving it was D’Artagnan, she uttered a cry +of joy, “Oh, it is you, it is you! Thank God, thank God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is I,” said D’Artagnan, “it is I, whom God has sent to watch over +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it with that intention you followed me?” asked the young woman, with a +coquettish smile, whose somewhat bantering character resumed its influence, and +with whom all fear had disappeared from the moment in which she recognized a +friend in one she had taken for an enemy. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said D’Artagnan; “no, I confess it. It was chance that threw me in your +way; I saw a woman knocking at the window of one of my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of your friends?” interrupted Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt; Aramis is one of my best friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis! Who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, you won’t tell me you don’t know Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the first time I ever heard his name pronounced.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the first time, then, that you ever went to that house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you did not know that it was inhabited by a young man?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“By a Musketeer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not he, then, you came to seek?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world. Besides, you must have seen that the person to +whom I spoke was a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true; but this woman is a friend of Aramis—” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“—since she lodges with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“That does not concern me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is not my secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Madame Bonacieux, you are charming; but at the same time you are one +of the most mysterious women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I lose by that?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you are, on the contrary, adorable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your arm, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most willingly. And now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now escort me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where I am going.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will see, because you will leave me at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I wait for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be useless.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will return alone, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps yes, perhaps no.” +</p> + +<p> +“But will the person who shall accompany you afterward be a man or a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I will know it!” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will wait until you come out.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not want you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have claimed—” +</p> + +<p> +“The aid of a gentleman, not the watchfulness of a spy.” +</p> + +<p> +“The word is rather hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“How are they called who follow others in spite of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are indiscreet.” +</p> + +<p> +“The word is too mild.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I perceive I must do as you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you deprive yourself of the merit of doing so at once?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no merit in repentance?” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you really repent?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing about it myself. But what I know is that I promise to do all +you wish if you allow me to accompany you where you are going.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will leave me then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without waiting for my coming out again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Word of honor?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the faith of a gentleman. Take my arm, and let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan offered his arm to Mme. Bonacieux, who willingly took it, half +laughing, half trembling, and both gained the top of Rue de la Harpe. Arriving +there, the young woman seemed to hesitate, as she had before done in the Rue +Vaugirard. She seemed, however, by certain signs, to recognize a door, and +approaching that door, “And now, monsieur,” said she, “it is here I have +business; a thousand thanks for your honorable company, which has saved me from +all the dangers to which, alone, I was exposed. But the moment is come to keep +your word; I have reached my destination.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will have nothing to fear on your return?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have nothing to fear but robbers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What could they take from me? I have not a penny about me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget that beautiful handkerchief with the coat of arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“That which I found at your feet, and replaced in your pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, imprudent man! Do you wish to destroy me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You see very plainly that there is still danger for you, since a single word +makes you tremble; and you confess that if that word were heard you would be +ruined. Come, come, madame!” cried D’Artagnan, seizing her hands, and surveying +her with an ardent glance, “come, be more generous. Confide in me. Have you not +read in my eyes that there is nothing but devotion and sympathy in my heart?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Mme. Bonacieux; “therefore, ask my own secrets, and I will +reveal them to you; but those of others—that is quite another thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said D’Artagnan, “I shall discover them; as these secrets may have +an influence over your life, these secrets must become mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beware of what you do!” cried the young woman, in a manner so serious as to +make D’Artagnan start in spite of himself. “Oh, meddle in nothing which +concerns me. Do not seek to assist me in that which I am accomplishing. This I +ask of you in the name of the interest with which I inspire you, in the name of +the service you have rendered me and which I never shall forget while I have +life. Rather, place faith in what I tell you. Have no more concern about me; I +exist no longer for you, any more than if you had never seen me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must Aramis do as much as I, madame?” said D’Artagnan, deeply piqued. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the second or third time, monsieur, that you have repeated that name, +and yet I have told you that I do not know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know the man at whose shutter you have just knocked? Indeed, +madame, you believe me too credulous!” +</p> + +<p> +“Confess that it is for the sake of making me talk that you invent this story +and create this personage.” +</p> + +<p> +“I invent nothing, madame; I create nothing. I only speak that exact truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you say that one of your friends lives in that house?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say so, and I repeat it for the third time; that house is one inhabited by +my friend, and that friend is Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this will be cleared up at a later period,” murmured the young woman; “no, +monsieur, be silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you could see my heart,” said D’Artagnan, “you would there read so much +curiosity that you would pity me and so much love that you would instantly +satisfy my curiosity. We have nothing to fear from those who love us.” +</p> + +<p> +“You speak very suddenly of love, monsieur,” said the young woman, shaking her +head. +</p> + +<p> +“That is because love has come suddenly upon me, and for the first time; and +because I am only twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman looked at him furtively. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen; I am already upon the scent,” resumed D’Artagnan. “About three months +ago I was near having a duel with Aramis concerning a handkerchief resembling +the one you showed to the woman in his house—for a handkerchief marked in +the same manner, I am sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the young woman, “you weary me very much, I assure you, with +your questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you, madame, prudent as you are, think, if you were to be arrested with +that handkerchief, and that handkerchief were to be seized, would you not be +compromised?” +</p> + +<p> +“In what way? The initials are only mine—C. B., Constance Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or Camille de Bois-Tracy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, monsieur! Once again, silence! Ah, since the dangers I incur on my +own account cannot stop you, think of those you may yourself run!” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; there is peril of imprisonment, risk of life in knowing me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will not leave you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” said the young woman, supplicating him and clasping her hands +together, “monsieur, in the name of heaven, by the honor of a soldier, by the +courtesy of a gentleman, depart! There, there midnight sounds! That is the hour +when I am expected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the young man, bowing; “I can refuse nothing asked of me thus. +Be content; I will depart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will not follow me; you will not watch me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will return home instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I was quite sure you were a good and brave young man,” said Mme. +Bonacieux, holding out her hand to him, and placing the other upon the knocker +of a little door almost hidden in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan seized the hand held out to him, and kissed it ardently. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I wish I had never seen you!” cried D’Artagnan, with that ingenuous +roughness which women often prefer to the affectations of politeness, because +it betrays the depths of the thought and proves that feeling prevails over +reason. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” resumed Mme. Bonacieux, in a voice almost caressing, and pressing the +hand of D’Artagnan, who had not relinquished hers, “well: I will not say as +much as you do; what is lost for today may not be lost forever. Who knows, when +I shall be at liberty, that I may not satisfy your curiosity?” +</p> + +<p> +“And will you make the same promise to my love?” cried D’Artagnan, beside +himself with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that, I do not engage myself. That depends upon the sentiments with +which you may inspire me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then today, madame—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, today, I am no further than gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You are too charming,” said D’Artagnan, sorrowfully; “and you abuse my +love.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I use your generosity, that’s all. But be of good cheer; with certain +people, everything comes round.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you render me the happiest of men! Do not forget this evening—do not +forget that promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied. In the proper time and place I will remember everything. Now +then, go, go, in the name of heaven! I was expected at sharp midnight, and I am +late.” +</p> + +<p> +“By five minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but in certain circumstances five minutes are five ages.” +</p> + +<p> +“When one loves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! And who told you I had no affair with a lover?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a man, then, who expects you?” cried D’Artagnan. “A man!” +</p> + +<p> +“The discussion is going to begin again!” said Mme. Bonacieux, with a +half-smile which was not exempt from a tinge of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; I go, I depart! I believe in you, and I would have all the merit of my +devotion, even if that devotion were stupidity. Adieu, madame, adieu!” +</p> + +<p> +And as if he only felt strength to detach himself by a violent effort from the +hand he held, he sprang away, running, while Mme. Bonacieux knocked, as at the +shutter, three light and regular taps. When he had gained the angle of the +street, he turned. The door had been opened, and shut again; the mercer’s +pretty wife had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan pursued his way. He had given his word not to watch Mme. Bonacieux, +and if his life had depended upon the spot to which she was going or upon the +person who should accompany her, D’Artagnan would have returned home, since he +had so promised. Five minutes later he was in the Rue des Fossoyeurs. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Athos!” said he; “he will never guess what all this means. He will have +fallen asleep waiting for me, or else he will have returned home, where he will +have learned that a woman had been there. A woman with Athos! After all,” +continued D’Artagnan, “there was certainly one with Aramis. All this is very +strange; and I am curious to know how it will end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Badly, monsieur, badly!” replied a voice which the young man recognized as +that of Planchet; for, soliloquizing aloud, as very preoccupied people do, he +had entered the alley, at the end of which were the stairs which led to his +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“How, badly? What do you mean by that, you idiot?” asked D’Artagnan. “What has +happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“All sorts of misfortunes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place, Monsieur Athos is arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrested! Athos arrested! What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was found in your lodging; they took him for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by whom was he arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Guards brought by the men in black whom you put to flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did he not tell them his name? Why did he not tell them he knew nothing +about this affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“He took care not to do so, monsieur; on the contrary, he came up to me and +said, ‘It is your master that needs his liberty at this moment and not I, since +he knows everything and I know nothing. They will believe he is arrested, and +that will give him time; in three days I will tell them who I am, and they +cannot fail to let me go.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Athos! Noble heart!” murmured D’Artagnan. “I know him well there! And +what did the officers do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Four conveyed him away, I don’t know where—to the Bastille or Fort +l’Evêque. Two remained with the men in black, who rummaged every place and took +all the papers. The last two mounted guard at the door during this examination; +then, when all was over, they went away, leaving the house empty and exposed.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Porthos and Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could not find them; they did not come.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they may come any moment, for you left word that I awaited them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t budge, then; if they come, tell them what has happened. Let them +wait for me at the Pomme-de-Pin. Here it would be dangerous; the house may be +watched. I will run to Monsieur de Tréville to tell them all this, and will +meet them there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, monsieur,” said Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“But you will remain; you are not afraid?” said D’Artagnan, coming back to +recommend courage to his lackey. +</p> + +<p> +“Be easy, monsieur,” said Planchet; “you do not know me yet. I am brave when I +set about it. It is all in beginning. Besides, I am a Picard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is understood,” said D’Artagnan; “you would rather be killed than +desert your post?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur; and there is nothing I would not do to prove to Monsieur that I +am attached to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said D’Artagnan to himself. “It appears that the method I have adopted +with this boy is decidedly the best. I shall use it again upon occasion.” +</p> + +<p> +And with all the swiftness of his legs, already a little fatigued, however, +with the perambulations of the day, D’Artagnan directed his course toward M. de +Tréville’s. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville was not at his hôtel. His company was on guard at the Louvre; he +was at the Louvre with his company. +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary to reach M. de Tréville; it was important that he should be +informed of what was passing. D’Artagnan resolved to try and enter the Louvre. +His costume of Guardsman in the company of M. Dessessart ought to be his +passport. +</p> + +<p> +He therefore went down the Rue des Petits Augustins, and came up to the quay, +in order to take the New Bridge. He had at first an idea of crossing by the +ferry; but on gaining the riverside, he had mechanically put his hand into his +pocket, and perceived that he had not wherewithal to pay his passage. +</p> + +<p> +As he gained the top of the Rue Guénegaud, he saw two persons coming out of the +Rue Dauphine whose appearance very much struck him. Of the two persons who +composed this group, one was a man and the other a woman. The woman had the +outline of Mme. Bonacieux; the man resembled Aramis so much as to be mistaken +for him. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, the woman wore that black mantle which D’Artagnan could still see +outlined on the shutter of the Rue de Vaugirard and on the door of the Rue de +la Harpe; still further, the man wore the uniform of a Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +The woman’s hood was pulled down, and the man held a handkerchief to his face. +Both, as this double precaution indicated, had an interest in not being +recognized. +</p> + +<p> +They took the bridge. That was D’Artagnan’s road, as he was going to the +Louvre. D’Artagnan followed them. +</p> + +<p> +He had not gone twenty steps before he became convinced that the woman was +really Mme. Bonacieux and that the man was Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +He felt at that instant all the suspicions of jealousy agitating his heart. He +felt himself doubly betrayed, by his friend and by her whom he already loved +like a mistress. Mme. Bonacieux had declared to him, by all the gods, that she +did not know Aramis; and a quarter of an hour after having made this assertion, +he found her hanging on the arm of Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan did not reflect that he had only known the mercer’s pretty wife for +three hours; that she owed him nothing but a little gratitude for having +delivered her from the men in black, who wished to carry her off, and that she +had promised him nothing. He considered himself an outraged, betrayed, and +ridiculed lover. Blood and anger mounted to his face; he was resolved to +unravel the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +The young man and young woman perceived they were watched, and redoubled their +speed. D’Artagnan determined upon his course. He passed them, then returned so +as to meet them exactly before the Samaritaine, which was illuminated by a lamp +which threw its light over all that part of the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan stopped before them, and they stopped before him. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want, monsieur?” demanded the Musketeer, recoiling a step, and +with a foreign accent, which proved to D’Artagnan that he was deceived in one +of his conjectures. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not Aramis!” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, it is not Aramis; and by your exclamation I perceive you have +mistaken me for another, and pardon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You pardon me?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the stranger. “Allow me, then, to pass on, since it is not with +me you have anything to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, monsieur, it is not with you that I have anything to do; it is +with Madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“With Madame! You do not know her,” replied the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“You are deceived, monsieur; I know her very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Mme. Bonacieux; in a tone of reproach, “ah, monsieur, I had your +promise as a soldier and your word as a gentleman. I hoped to be able to rely +upon that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, madame!” said D’Artagnan, embarrassed; “you promised me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Take my arm, madame,” said the stranger, “and let us continue our way.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, however, stupefied, cast down, annihilated by all that happened, +stood, with crossed arms, before the Musketeer and Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +The Musketeer advanced two steps, and pushed D’Artagnan aside with his hand. +D’Artagnan made a spring backward and drew his sword. At the same time, and +with the rapidity of lightning, the stranger drew his. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of heaven, my Lord!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, throwing herself +between the combatants and seizing the swords with her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord!” cried D’Artagnan, enlightened by a sudden idea, “my Lord! Pardon me, +monsieur, but you are not—” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord the Duke of Buckingham,” said Mme. Bonacieux, in an undertone; “and +now you may ruin us all.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, Madame, I ask a hundred pardons! But I love her, my Lord, and was +jealous. You know what it is to love, my Lord. Pardon me, and then tell me how +I can risk my life to serve your Grace?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a brave young man,” said Buckingham, holding out his hand to +D’Artagnan, who pressed it respectfully. “You offer me your services; with the +same frankness I accept them. Follow us at a distance of twenty paces, as far +as the Louvre, and if anyone watches us, slay him!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan placed his naked sword under his arm, allowed the duke and Mme. +Bonacieux to take twenty steps ahead, and then followed them, ready to execute +the instructions of the noble and elegant minister of Charles I. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, he had no opportunity to give the duke this proof of his devotion, +and the young woman and the handsome Musketeer entered the Louvre by the wicket +of the Echelle without any interference. +</p> + +<p> +As for D’Artagnan, he immediately repaired to the cabaret of the Pomme-de-Pin, +where he found Porthos and Aramis awaiting him. Without giving them any +explanation of the alarm and inconvenience he had caused them, he told them +that he had terminated the affair alone in which he had for a moment believed +he should need their assistance. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, carried away as we are by our narrative, we must leave our three +friends to themselves, and follow the Duke of Buckingham and his guide through +the labyrinths of the Louvre. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>Chapter XII.<br/> +GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">me. Bonacieux</span> and the duke entered the Louvre without +difficulty. Mme. Bonacieux was known to belong to the queen; the duke wore the +uniform of the Musketeers of M. de Tréville, who, as we have said, were that +evening on guard. Besides, Germain was in the interests of the queen; and if +anything should happen, Mme. Bonacieux would be accused of having introduced +her lover into the Louvre, that was all. She took the risk upon herself. Her +reputation would be lost, it is true; but of what value in the world was the +reputation of the little wife of a mercer? +</p> + +<p> +Once within the interior of the court, the duke and the young woman followed +the wall for the space of about twenty-five steps. This space passed, Mme. +Bonacieux pushed a little servants’ door, open by day but generally closed at +night. The door yielded. Both entered, and found themselves in darkness; but +Mme. Bonacieux was acquainted with all the turnings and windings of this part +of the Louvre, appropriated for the people of the household. She closed the +door after her, took the duke by the hand, and after a few experimental steps, +grasped a balustrade, put her foot upon the bottom step, and began to ascend +the staircase. The duke counted two stories. She then turned to the right, +followed the course of a long corridor, descended a flight, went a few steps +farther, introduced a key into a lock, opened a door, and pushed the duke into +an apartment lighted only by a lamp, saying, “Remain here, my Lord Duke; +someone will come.” She then went out by the same door, which she locked, so +that the duke found himself literally a prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, isolated as he was, we must say that the Duke of Buckingham did +not experience an instant of fear. One of the salient points of his character +was the search for adventures and a love of romance. Brave, rash, and +enterprising, this was not the first time he had risked his life in such +attempts. He had learned that the pretended message from Anne of Austria, upon +the faith of which he had come to Paris, was a snare; but instead of regaining +England, he had, abusing the position in which he had been placed, declared to +the queen that he would not depart without seeing her. The queen had at first +positively refused; but at length became afraid that the duke, if exasperated, +would commit some folly. She had already decided upon seeing him and urging his +immediate departure, when, on the very evening of coming to this decision, Mme. +Bonacieux, who was charged with going to fetch the duke and conducting him to +the Louvre, was abducted. For two days no one knew what had become of her, and +everything remained in suspense; but once free, and placed in communication +with Laporte, matters resumed their course, and she accomplished the perilous +enterprise which, but for her arrest, would have been executed three days +earlier. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham, left alone, walked toward a mirror. His Musketeer’s uniform became +him marvelously. +</p> + +<p> +At thirty-five, which was then his age, he passed, with just title, for the +handsomest gentleman and the most elegant cavalier of France or England. +</p> + +<p> +The favorite of two kings, immensely rich, all-powerful in a kingdom which he +disordered at his fancy and calmed again at his caprice, George Villiers, Duke +of Buckingham, had lived one of those fabulous existences which survive, in the +course of centuries, to astonish posterity. +</p> + +<p> +Sure of himself, convinced of his own power, certain that the laws which rule +other men could not reach him, he went straight to the object he aimed at, even +were this object so elevated and so dazzling that it would have been madness +for any other even to have contemplated it. It was thus he had succeeded in +approaching several times the beautiful and proud Anne of Austria, and in +making himself loved by dazzling her. +</p> + +<p> +George Villiers placed himself before the glass, as we have said, restored the +undulations to his beautiful hair, which the weight of his hat had disordered, +twisted his mustache, and, his heart swelling with joy, happy and proud at +being near the moment he had so long sighed for, he smiled upon himself with +pride and hope. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a door concealed in the tapestry opened, and a woman appeared. +Buckingham saw this apparition in the glass; he uttered a cry. It was the +queen! +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria was then twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age; that is to +say, she was in the full splendor of her beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Her carriage was that of a queen or a goddess; her eyes, which cast the +brilliancy of emeralds, were perfectly beautiful, and yet were at the same time +full of sweetness and majesty. +</p> + +<p> +Her mouth was small and rosy; and although her underlip, like that of all +princes of the House of Austria, protruded slightly beyond the other, it was +eminently lovely in its smile, but as profoundly disdainful in its contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Her skin was admired for its velvety softness; her hands and arms were of +surpassing beauty, all the poets of the time singing them as incomparable. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, her hair, which, from being light in her youth, had become chestnut, +and which she wore curled very plainly, and with much powder, admirably set off +her face, in which the most rigid critic could only have desired a little less +rouge, and the most fastidious sculptor a little more fineness in the nose. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham remained for a moment dazzled. Never had Anne of Austria appeared to +him so beautiful, amid balls, fêtes, or carousals, as she appeared to him at +this moment, dressed in a simple robe of white satin, and accompanied by Donna +Estafania—the only one of her Spanish women who had not been driven from +her by the jealousy of the king or by the persecutions of Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria took two steps forward. Buckingham threw himself at her feet, +and before the queen could prevent him, kissed the hem of her robe. +</p> + +<p> +“Duke, you already know that it is not I who caused you to be written to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, madame! Yes, your Majesty!” cried the duke. “I know that I must have +been mad, senseless, to believe that snow would become animated or marble warm; +but what then! They who love believe easily in love. Besides, I have lost +nothing by this journey because I see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Anne, “but you know why and how I see you; because, insensible +to all my sufferings, you persist in remaining in a city where, by remaining, +you run the risk of your life, and make me run the risk of my honor. I see you +to tell you that everything separates us—the depths of the sea, the +enmity of kingdoms, the sanctity of vows. It is sacrilege to struggle against +so many things, my Lord. In short, I see you to tell you that we must never see +each other again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak on, madame, speak on, Queen,” said Buckingham; “the sweetness of your +voice covers the harshness of your words. You talk of sacrilege! Why, the +sacrilege is the separation of two hearts formed by God for each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” cried the queen, “you forget that I have never said that I love +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have never told me that you did not love me; and truly, to speak such +words to me would be, on the part of your Majesty, too great an ingratitude. +For tell me, where can you find a love like mine—a love which neither +time, nor absence, nor despair can extinguish, a love which contents itself +with a lost ribbon, a stray look, or a chance word? It is now three years, +madame, since I saw you for the first time, and during those three years I have +loved you thus. Shall I tell you each ornament of your toilet? Mark! I see you +now. You were seated upon cushions in the Spanish fashion; you wore a robe of +green satin embroidered with gold and silver, hanging sleeves knotted upon your +beautiful arms—those lovely arms—with large diamonds. You wore a +close ruff, a small cap upon your head of the same color as your robe, and in +that cap a heron’s feather. Hold! Hold! I shut my eyes, and I can see you as +you then were; I open them again, and I see what you are now—a hundred +times more beautiful!” +</p> + +<p> +“What folly,” murmured Anne of Austria, who had not the courage to find fault +with the duke for having so well preserved her portrait in his heart, “what +folly to feed a useless passion with such remembrances!” +</p> + +<p> +“And upon what then must I live? I have nothing but memory. It is my happiness, +my treasure, my hope. Every time I see you is a fresh diamond which I enclose +in the casket of my heart. This is the fourth which you have let fall and I +have picked up; for in three years, madame, I have only seen you four +times—the first, which I have described to you; the second, at the +mansion of Madame de Chevreuse; the third, in the gardens of Amiens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Duke,” said the queen, blushing, “never speak of that evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let us speak of it; on the contrary, let us speak of it! That is the most +happy and brilliant evening of my life! You remember what a beautiful night it +was? How soft and perfumed was the air; how lovely the blue heavens and +star-enameled sky! Ah, then, madame, I was able for one instant to be alone +with you. Then you were about to tell me all—the isolation of your life, +the griefs of your heart. You leaned upon my arm—upon this, madame! I +felt, in bending my head toward you, your beautiful hair touch my cheek; and +every time that it touched me I trembled from head to foot. Oh, Queen! Queen! +You do not know what felicity from heaven, what joys from paradise, are +comprised in a moment like that. Take my wealth, my fortune, my glory, all the +days I have to live, for such an instant, for a night like that. For that +night, madame, that night you loved me, I will swear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, yes; it is possible that the influence of the place, the charm of the +beautiful evening, the fascination of your look—the thousand +circumstances, in short, which sometimes unite to destroy a woman—were +grouped around me on that fatal evening; but, my Lord, you saw the queen come +to the aid of the woman who faltered. At the first word you dared to utter, at +the first freedom to which I had to reply, I called for help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, that is true. And any other love but mine would have sunk beneath +this ordeal; but my love came out from it more ardent and more eternal. You +believed that you would fly from me by returning to Paris; you believed that I +would not dare to quit the treasure over which my master had charged me to +watch. What to me were all the treasures in the world, or all the kings of the +earth! Eight days after, I was back again, madame. That time you had nothing to +say to me; I had risked my life and favor to see you but for a second. I did +not even touch your hand, and you pardoned me on seeing me so submissive and so +repentant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but calumny seized upon all those follies in which I took no part, as you +well know, my Lord. The king, excited by the cardinal, made a terrible clamor. +Madame de Vernet was driven from me, Putange was exiled, Madame de Chevreuse +fell into disgrace, and when you wished to come back as ambassador to France, +the king himself—remember, my lord—the king himself opposed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and France is about to pay for her king’s refusal with a war. I am not +allowed to see you, madame, but you shall every day hear of me. What object, +think you, have this expedition to Ré and this league with the Protestants of +La Rochelle which I am projecting? The pleasure of seeing you. I have no hope +of penetrating, sword in hand, to Paris, I know that well. But this war may +bring round a peace; this peace will require a negotiator; that negotiator will +be me. They will not dare to refuse me then; and I will return to Paris, and +will see you again, and will be happy for an instant. Thousands of men, it is +true, will have to pay for my happiness with their lives; but what is that to +me, provided I see you again! All this is perhaps folly—perhaps insanity; +but tell me what woman has a lover more truly in love; what queen a servant +more ardent?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, my Lord, you invoke in your defense things which accuse you more +strongly. All these proofs of love which you would give me are almost crimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you do not love me, madame! If you loved me, you would view all this +otherwise. If you loved me, oh, if you loved me, that would be too great +happiness, and I should run mad. Ah, Madame de Chevreuse was less cruel than +you. Holland loved her, and she responded to his love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de Chevreuse was not queen,” murmured Anne of Austria, overcome, in +spite of herself, by the expression of so profound a passion. +</p> + +<p> +“You would love me, then, if you were not queen! Madame, say that you would +love me then! I can believe that it is the dignity of your rank alone which +makes you cruel to me; I can believe that, had you been Madame de Chevreuse, +poor Buckingham might have hoped. Thanks for those sweet words! Oh, my +beautiful sovereign, a hundred times, thanks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my Lord! You have ill understood, wrongly interpreted; I did not mean to +say—” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, silence!” cried the duke. “If I am happy in an error, do not have the +cruelty to lift me from it. You have told me yourself, madame, that I have been +drawn into a snare; I, perhaps, may leave my life in it—for, although it +may be strange, I have for some time had a presentiment that I should shortly +die.” And the duke smiled, with a smile at once sad and charming. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” cried Anne of Austria, with an accent of terror which proved how +much greater an interest she took in the duke than she ventured to tell. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not tell you this, madame, to terrify you; no, it is even ridiculous for +me to name it to you, and, believe me, I take no heed of such dreams. But the +words you have just spoken, the hope you have almost given me, will have richly +paid all—were it my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I,” said Anne, “I also, duke, have had presentiments; I also have had +dreams. I dreamed that I saw you lying bleeding, wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the left side, was it not, and with a knife?” interrupted Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was so, my Lord, it was so—in the left side, and with a knife. +Who can possibly have told you I had had that dream? I have imparted it to no +one but my God, and that in my prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ask for no more. You love me, madame; it is enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes. Would God send the same dreams to you as to me if you did not love +me? Should we have the same presentiments if our existences did not touch at +the heart? You love me, my beautiful queen, and you will weep for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” cried Anne of Austria, “this is more than I can bear. In +the name of heaven, Duke, leave me, go! I do not know whether I love you or +love you not; but what I know is that I will not be perjured. Take pity on me, +then, and go! Oh, if you are struck in France, if you die in France, if I could +imagine that your love for me was the cause of your death, I could not console +myself; I should run mad. Depart then, depart, I implore you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how beautiful you are thus! Oh, how I love you!” said Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, go, I implore you, and return hereafter! Come back as ambassador, come +back as minister, come back surrounded with guards who will defend you, with +servants who will watch over you, and then I shall no longer fear for your +days, and I shall be happy in seeing you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is this true what you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, some pledge of your indulgence, some object which came from you, and +may remind me that I have not been dreaming; something you have worn, and that +I may wear in my turn—a ring, a necklace, a chain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you depart—will you depart, if I give you that you demand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“This very instant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will leave France, you will return to England?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, I swear to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, then, wait.” +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria re-entered her apartment, and came out again almost +immediately, holding a rosewood casket in her hand, with her cipher encrusted +with gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, my Lord, here,” said she, “keep this in memory of me.” +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham took the casket, and fell a second time on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“You have promised me to go,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“And I keep my word. Your hand, madame, your hand, and I depart!” +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria stretched forth her hand, closing her eyes, and leaning with +the other upon Estafania, for she felt that her strength was about to fail her. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham pressed his lips passionately to that beautiful hand, and then +rising, said, “Within six months, if I am not dead, I shall have seen you +again, madame—even if I have to overturn the world.” And faithful to the +promise he had made, he rushed out of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +In the corridor he met Mme. Bonacieux, who waited for him, and who, with the +same precautions and the same good luck, conducted him out of the Louvre. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>Chapter XIII.<br/> +MONSIEUR BONACIEUX</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">here</span> was in all this, as may have been observed, one +personage concerned, of whom, notwithstanding his precarious position, we have +appeared to take but very little notice. This personage was M. Bonacieux, the +respectable martyr of the political and amorous intrigues which entangled +themselves so nicely together at this gallant and chivalric period. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, the reader may remember, or may not remember—fortunately we +have promised not to lose sight of him. +</p> + +<p> +The officers who arrested him conducted him straight to the Bastille, where he +passed trembling before a party of soldiers who were loading their muskets. +Thence, introduced into a half-subterranean gallery, he became, on the part of +those who had brought him, the object of the grossest insults and the harshest +treatment. The officers perceived that they had not to deal with a gentleman, +and they treated him like a very peasant. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of half an hour or thereabouts, a clerk came to put an end to his +tortures, but not to his anxiety, by giving the order to conduct M. Bonacieux +to the Chamber of Examination. Ordinarily, prisoners were interrogated in their +cells; but they did not do so with M. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +Two guards attended the mercer who made him traverse a court and enter a +corridor in which were three sentinels, opened a door and pushed him +unceremoniously into a low room, where the only furniture was a table, a chair, +and a commissary. The commissary was seated in the chair, and was writing at +the table. +</p> + +<p> +The two guards led the prisoner toward the table, and upon a sign from the +commissary drew back so far as to be unable to hear anything. +</p> + +<p> +The commissary, who had till this time held his head down over his papers, +looked up to see what sort of person he had to do with. This commissary was a +man of very repulsive mien, with a pointed nose, with yellow and salient cheek +bones, with eyes small but keen and penetrating, and an expression of +countenance resembling at once the polecat and the fox. His head, supported by +a long and flexible neck, issued from his large black robe, balancing itself +with a motion very much like that of the tortoise thrusting his head out of his +shell. He began by asking M. Bonacieux his name, age, condition, and abode. +</p> + +<p> +The accused replied that his name was Jacques Michel Bonacieux, that he was +fifty-one years old, a retired mercer, and lived Rue des Fossoyeurs, No. 14. +</p> + +<p> +The commissary then, instead of continuing to interrogate him, made him a long +speech upon the danger there is for an obscure citizen to meddle with public +matters. He complicated this exordium by an exposition in which he painted the +power and the deeds of the cardinal, that incomparable minister, that conqueror +of past ministers, that example for ministers to come—deeds and power +which none could thwart with impunity. +</p> + +<p> +After this second part of his discourse, fixing his hawk’s eye upon poor +Bonacieux, he bade him reflect upon the gravity of his situation. +</p> + +<p> +The reflections of the mercer were already made; he cursed the instant when M. +Laporte formed the idea of marrying him to his goddaughter, and particularly +the moment when that goddaughter had been received as Lady of the Linen to her +Majesty. +</p> + +<p> +At bottom the character of M. Bonacieux was one of profound selfishness mixed +with sordid avarice, the whole seasoned with extreme cowardice. The love with +which his young wife had inspired him was a secondary sentiment, and was not +strong enough to contend with the primitive feelings we have just enumerated. +Bonacieux indeed reflected on what had just been said to him. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Monsieur Commissary,” said he, calmly, “believe that I know and +appreciate, more than anybody, the merit of the incomparable eminence by whom +we have the honor to be governed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” asked the commissary, with an air of doubt. “If that is really so, +how came you in the Bastille?” +</p> + +<p> +“How I came there, or rather why I am there,” replied Bonacieux, “that is +entirely impossible for me to tell you, because I don’t know myself; but to a +certainty it is not for having, knowingly at least, disobliged Monsieur the +Cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must, nevertheless, have committed a crime, since you are here and are +accused of high treason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of high treason!” cried Bonacieux, terrified; “of high treason! How is it +possible for a poor mercer, who detests Huguenots and who abhors Spaniards, to +be accused of high treason? Consider, monsieur, the thing is absolutely +impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Bonacieux,” said the commissary, looking at the accused as if his +little eyes had the faculty of reading to the very depths of hearts, “you have +a wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” replied the mercer, in a tremble, feeling that it was at this +point affairs were likely to become perplexing; “that is to say, I <i>had</i> +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, you ‘<i>had</i> one’? What have you done with her, then, if you have her +no longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have abducted her, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“They have abducted her? Ah!” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux inferred from this “Ah” that the affair grew more and more intricate. +</p> + +<p> +“They have abducted her,” added the commissary; “and do you know the man who +has committed this deed?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember that I affirm nothing, Monsieur the Commissary, and that I only +suspect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you suspect? Come, answer freely.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Bonacieux was in the greatest perplexity possible. Had he better deny +everything or tell everything? By denying all, it might be suspected that he +must know too much to avow; by confessing all he might prove his good will. He +decided, then, to tell all. +</p> + +<p> +“I suspect,” said he, “a tall, dark man, of lofty carriage, who has the air of +a great lord. He has followed us several times, as I think, when I have waited +for my wife at the wicket of the Louvre to escort her home.” +</p> + +<p> +The commissary now appeared to experience a little uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“And his name?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to his name, I know nothing about it; but if I were ever to meet him, I +should recognize him in an instant, I will answer for it, were he among a +thousand persons.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of the commissary grew still darker. +</p> + +<p> +“You should recognize him among a thousand, say you?” continued he. +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say,” cried Bonacieux, who saw he had taken a false step, “that is +to say—” +</p> + +<p> +“You have answered that you should recognize him,” said the commissary. “That +is all very well, and enough for today; before we proceed further, someone must +be informed that you know the ravisher of your wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have not told you that I know him!” cried Bonacieux, in despair. “I told +you, on the contrary—” +</p> + +<p> +“Take away the prisoner,” said the commissary to the two guards. +</p> + +<p> +“Where must we place him?” demanded the chief. +</p> + +<p> +“In a dungeon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! In the first one handy, provided it is safe,” said the commissary, +with an indifference which penetrated poor Bonacieux with horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, alas!” said he to himself, “misfortune is over my head; my wife must +have committed some frightful crime. They believe me her accomplice, and will +punish me with her. She must have spoken; she must have confessed +everything—a woman is so weak! A dungeon! The first he comes to! That’s +it! A night is soon passed; and tomorrow to the wheel, to the gallows! Oh, my +God, my God, have pity on me!” +</p> + +<p> +Without listening the least in the world to the lamentations of M. +Bonacieux—lamentations to which, besides, they must have been pretty well +accustomed—the two guards took the prisoner each by an arm, and led him +away, while the commissary wrote a letter in haste and dispatched it by an +officer in waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux could not close his eyes; not because his dungeon was so very +disagreeable, but because his uneasiness was so great. He sat all night on his +stool, starting at the least noise; and when the first rays of the sun +penetrated into his chamber, the dawn itself appeared to him to have taken +funereal tints. +</p> + +<p> +All at once he heard his bolts drawn, and made a terrified bound. He believed +they were come to conduct him to the scaffold; so that when he saw merely and +simply, instead of the executioner he expected, only his commissary of the +preceding evening, attended by his clerk, he was ready to embrace them both. +</p> + +<p> +“Your affair has become more complicated since yesterday evening, my good man, +and I advise you to tell the whole truth; for your repentance alone can remove +the anger of the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I am ready to tell everything,” cried Bonacieux, “at least, all that I +know. Interrogate me, I entreat you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your wife, in the first place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, did not I tell you she had been stolen from me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but yesterday at five o’clock in the afternoon, thanks to you, she +escaped.” +</p> + +<p> +“My wife escaped!” cried Bonacieux. “Oh, unfortunate creature! Monsieur, if she +has escaped, it is not my fault, I swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“What business had you, then, to go into the chamber of Monsieur d’Artagnan, +your neighbor, with whom you had a long conference during the day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, Monsieur Commissary; yes, that is true, and I confess that I was in +the wrong. I did go to Monsieur d’Artagnan’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the aim of that visit?” +</p> + +<p> +“To beg him to assist me in finding my wife. I believed I had a right to +endeavor to find her. I was deceived, as it appears, and I ask your pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did Monsieur d’Artagnan reply?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur d’Artagnan promised me his assistance; but I soon found out that he +was betraying me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You impose upon justice. Monsieur d’Artagnan made a compact with you; and in +virtue of that compact put to flight the police who had arrested your wife, and +has placed her beyond reach.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. d’Artagnan has abducted my wife! Come now, what are you telling me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately, Monsieur d’Artagnan is in our hands, and you shall be confronted +with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“By my faith, I ask no better,” cried Bonacieux; “I shall not be sorry to see +the face of an acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring in the Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the commissary to the guards. The two +guards led in Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the commissary, addressing Athos, “declare all that +passed yesterday between you and Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried Bonacieux, “this is not Monsieur d’Artagnan whom you show me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Not Monsieur d’Artagnan?” exclaimed the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world,” replied Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this gentleman’s name?” asked the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you; I don’t know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! You don’t know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you never see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have seen him, but I don’t know what he calls himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your name?” replied the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos,” replied the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“But that is not a man’s name; that is the name of a mountain,” cried the poor +questioner, who began to lose his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my name,” said Athos, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“But you said that your name was D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody said to me, ‘You are Monsieur d’Artagnan?’ I answered, ‘You think +so?’ My guards exclaimed that they were sure of it. I did not wish to +contradict them; besides, I might be deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you insult the majesty of justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said Athos, calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“You are Monsieur d’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, monsieur, that you say it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you, Monsieur Commissary,” cried Bonacieux, in his turn, “there is +not the least doubt about the matter. Monsieur d’Artagnan is my tenant, +although he does not pay me my rent—and even better on that account ought +I to know him. Monsieur d’Artagnan is a young man, scarcely nineteen or twenty, +and this gentleman must be thirty at least. Monsieur d’Artagnan is in Monsieur +Dessessart’s Guards, and this gentleman is in the company of Monsieur de +Tréville’s Musketeers. Look at his uniform, Monsieur Commissary, look at his +uniform!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” murmured the commissary; “<i>pardieu</i>, that’s true.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the door was opened quickly, and a messenger, introduced by one +of the gatekeepers of the Bastille, gave a letter to the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, unhappy woman!” cried the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“How? What do you say? Of whom do you speak? It is not of my wife, I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, it is of her. Yours is a pretty business.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the agitated mercer, “do me the pleasure, monsieur, to tell me how +my own proper affair can become worse by anything my wife does while I am in +prison?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because that which she does is part of a plan concerted between you—of +an infernal plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear to you, Monsieur Commissary, that you are in the profoundest error, +that I know nothing in the world about what my wife had to do, that I am +entirely a stranger to what she has done; and that if she has committed any +follies, I renounce her, I abjure her, I curse her!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Athos to the commissary, “if you have no more need of me, send me +somewhere. Your Monsieur Bonacieux is very tiresome.” +</p> + +<p> +The commissary designated by the same gesture Athos and Bonacieux, “Let them be +guarded more closely than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” said Athos, with his habitual calmness, “if it be Monsieur +d’Artagnan who is concerned in this matter, I do not perceive how I can take +his place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do as I bade you,” cried the commissary, “and preserve absolute secrecy. You +understand!” +</p> + +<p> +Athos shrugged his shoulders, and followed his guards silently, while M. +Bonacieux uttered lamentations enough to break the heart of a tiger. +</p> + +<p> +They locked the mercer in the same dungeon where he had passed the night, and +left him to himself during the day. Bonacieux wept all day, like a true mercer, +not being at all a military man, as he himself informed us. In the evening, +about nine o’clock, at the moment he had made up his mind to go to bed, he +heard steps in his corridor. These steps drew near to his dungeon, the door was +thrown open, and the guards appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me,” said an officer, who came up behind the guards. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow you!” cried Bonacieux, “follow you at this hour! Where, my God?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where we have orders to lead you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is not an answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, nevertheless, the only one we can give.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my God, my God!” murmured the poor mercer, “now, indeed, I am lost!” And +he followed the guards who came for him, mechanically and without resistance. +</p> + +<p> +He passed along the same corridor as before, crossed one court, then a second +side of a building; at length, at the gate of the entrance court he found a +carriage surrounded by four guards on horseback. They made him enter this +carriage, the officer placed himself by his side, the door was locked, and they +were left in a rolling prison. The carriage was put in motion as slowly as a +funeral car. Through the closely fastened windows the prisoner could perceive +the houses and the pavement, that was all; but, true Parisian as he was, +Bonacieux could recognize every street by the milestones, the signs, and the +lamps. At the moment of arriving at St. Paul—the spot where such as were +condemned at the Bastille were executed—he was near fainting and crossed +himself twice. He thought the carriage was about to stop there. The carriage, +however, passed on. +</p> + +<p> +Farther on, a still greater terror seized him on passing by the cemetery of St. +Jean, where state criminals were buried. One thing, however, reassured him; he +remembered that before they were buried their heads were generally cut off, and +he felt that his head was still on his shoulders. But when he saw the carriage +take the way to La Grêve, when he perceived the pointed roof of the Hôtel de +Ville, and the carriage passed under the arcade, he believed it was over with +him. He wished to confess to the officer, and upon his refusal, uttered such +pitiable cries that the officer told him that if he continued to deafen him +thus, he should put a gag in his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +This measure somewhat reassured Bonacieux. If they meant to execute him at La +Grêve, it could scarcely be worth while to gag him, as they had nearly reached +the place of execution. Indeed, the carriage crossed the fatal spot without +stopping. There remained, then, no other place to fear but the Traitor’s Cross; +the carriage was taking the direct road to it. +</p> + +<p> +This time there was no longer any doubt; it was at the Traitor’s Cross that +lesser criminals were executed. Bonacieux had flattered himself in believing +himself worthy of St. Paul or of the Place de Grêve; it was at the Traitor’s +Cross that his journey and his destiny were about to end! He could not yet see +that dreadful cross, but he felt somehow as if it were coming to meet him. When +he was within twenty paces of it, he heard a noise of people and the carriage +stopped. This was more than poor Bonacieux could endure, depressed as he was by +the successive emotions which he had experienced; he uttered a feeble groan +which might have been taken for the last sigh of a dying man, and fainted. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>Chapter XIV.<br/> +THE MAN OF MEUNG</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> crowd was caused, not by the expectation of a man to +be hanged, but by the contemplation of a man who was hanged. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage, which had been stopped for a minute, resumed its way, passed +through the crowd, threaded the Rue St. Honoré, turned into the Rue des Bons +Enfants, and stopped before a low door. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened; two guards received Bonacieux in their arms from the officer +who supported him. They carried him through an alley, up a flight of stairs, +and deposited him in an antechamber. +</p> + +<p> +All these movements had been effected mechanically, as far as he was concerned. +He had walked as one walks in a dream; he had a glimpse of objects as through a +fog. His ears had perceived sounds without comprehending them; he might have +been executed at that moment without his making a single gesture in his own +defense or uttering a cry to implore mercy. +</p> + +<p> +He remained on the bench, with his back leaning against the wall and his hands +hanging down, exactly on the spot where the guards placed him. +</p> + +<p> +On looking around him, however, as he could perceive no threatening object, as +nothing indicated that he ran any real danger, as the bench was comfortably +covered with a well-stuffed cushion, as the wall was ornamented with a +beautiful Cordova leather, and as large red damask curtains, fastened back by +gold clasps, floated before the window, he perceived by degrees that his fear +was exaggerated, and he began to turn his head to the right and the left, +upward and downward. +</p> + +<p> +At this movement, which nobody opposed, he resumed a little courage, and +ventured to draw up one leg and then the other. At length, with the help of his +two hands he lifted himself from the bench, and found himself on his feet. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment an officer with a pleasant face opened a door, continued to +exchange some words with a person in the next chamber and then came up to the +prisoner. “Is your name Bonacieux?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Monsieur Officer,” stammered the mercer, more dead than alive, “at your +service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said the officer. +</p> + +<p> +And he moved out of the way to let the mercer pass. The latter obeyed without +reply, and entered the chamber, where he appeared to be expected. +</p> + +<p> +It was a large cabinet, close and stifling, with the walls furnished with arms +offensive and defensive, and in which there was already a fire, although it was +scarcely the end of the month of September. A square table, covered with books +and papers, upon which was unrolled an immense plan of the city of La Rochelle, +occupied the center of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Standing before the chimney was a man of middle height, of a haughty, proud +mien; with piercing eyes, a large brow, and a thin face, which was made still +longer by a <i>royal</i> (or <i>imperial</i>, as it is now called), surmounted +by a pair of mustaches. Although this man was scarcely thirty-six or +thirty-seven years of age, hair, mustaches, and royal, all began to be gray. +This man, except a sword, had all the appearance of a soldier; and his buff +boots, still slightly covered with dust, indicated that he had been on +horseback in the course of the day. +</p> + +<p> +This man was Armand Jean Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu; not such as he is +now represented—broken down like an old man, suffering like a martyr, his +body bent, his voice failing, buried in a large armchair as in an anticipated +tomb; no longer living but by the strength of his genius, and no longer +maintaining the struggle with Europe but by the eternal application of his +thoughts—but such as he really was at this period; that is to say, an +active and gallant cavalier, already weak of body, but sustained by that moral +power which made of him one of the most extraordinary men that ever lived, +preparing, after having supported the Duc de Nevers in his duchy of Mantua, +after having taken Nîmes, Castres, and Uzes, to drive the English from the Isle +of Ré and lay siege to La Rochelle. +</p> + +<p> +At first sight, nothing denoted the cardinal; and it was impossible for those +who did not know his face to guess in whose presence they were. +</p> + +<p> +The poor mercer remained standing at the door, while the eyes of the personage +we have just described were fixed upon him, and appeared to wish to penetrate +even into the depths of the past. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this that Bonacieux?” asked he, after a moment of silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well. Give me those papers, and leave us.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer took from the table the papers pointed out, gave them to him who +asked for them, bowed to the ground, and retired. +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux recognized in these papers his interrogatories of the Bastille. From +time to time the man by the chimney raised his eyes from the writings, and +plunged them like poniards into the heart of the poor mercer. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of ten minutes of reading and ten seconds of examination, the +cardinal was satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +“That head has never conspired,” murmured he, “but it matters not; we will +see.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are accused of high treason,” said the cardinal, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“So I have been told already, monseigneur,” cried Bonacieux, giving his +interrogator the title he had heard the officer give him, “but I swear to you +that I know nothing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal repressed a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You have conspired with your wife, with Madame de Chevreuse, and with my Lord +Duke of Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, monseigneur,” responded the mercer, “I have heard her pronounce all +those names.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on what occasion?” +</p> + +<p> +“She said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had drawn the Duke of Buckingham to +Paris to ruin him and to ruin the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“She said that?” cried the cardinal, with violence. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur, but I told her she was wrong to talk about such things; and +that his Eminence was incapable—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue! You are stupid,” replied the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s exactly what my wife said, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know who carried off your wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have suspicions, nevertheless?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur; but these suspicions appeared to be disagreeable to Monsieur +the Commissary, and I no longer have them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wife has escaped. Did you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur. I learned it since I have been in prison, and that from the +conversation of Monsieur the Commissary—an amiable man.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal repressed another smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are ignorant of what has become of your wife since her flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely, monseigneur; but she has most likely returned to the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +“At one o’clock this morning she had not returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“My God! What can have become of her, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall know, be assured. Nothing is concealed from the cardinal; the +cardinal knows everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, monseigneur, do you believe the cardinal will be so kind as to +tell me what has become of my wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he may; but you must, in the first place, reveal to the cardinal all +you know of your wife’s relations with Madame de Chevreuse.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monseigneur, I know nothing about them; I have never seen her.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you went to fetch your wife from the Louvre, did you always return +directly home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Scarcely ever; she had business to transact with linen drapers, to whose +houses I conducted her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how many were there of these linen drapers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where did they live?” +</p> + +<p> +“One in Rue de Vaugirard, the other Rue de la Harpe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you go into these houses with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, monseigneur; I waited at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what excuse did she give you for entering all alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“She gave me none; she told me to wait, and I waited.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a very complacent husband, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux,” said the +cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“He calls me his dear Monsieur,” said the mercer to himself. “<i>Peste!</i> +Matters are going all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Should you know those doors again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the numbers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. 25 in the Rue de Vaugirard; 75 in the Rue de la Harpe.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +At these words he took up a silver bell, and rang it; the officer entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Go,” said he, in a subdued voice, “and find Rochefort. Tell him to come to me +immediately, if he has returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“The count is here,” said the officer, “and requests to speak with your +Eminence instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come in, then!” said the cardinal, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The officer sprang out of the apartment with that alacrity which all the +servants of the cardinal displayed in obeying him. +</p> + +<p> +“To your Eminence!” murmured Bonacieux, rolling his eyes round in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +Five seconds has scarcely elapsed after the disappearance of the officer, when +the door opened, and a new personage entered. +</p> + +<p> +“It is he!” cried Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“He! What he?” asked the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“The man who abducted my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal rang a second time. The officer reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Place this man in the care of his guards again, and let him wait till I send +for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur, no, it is not he!” cried Bonacieux; “no, I was deceived. This +is quite another man, and does not resemble him at all. Monsieur is, I am sure, +an honest man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take away that fool!” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +The officer took Bonacieux by the arm, and led him into the antechamber, where +he found his two guards. +</p> + +<p> +The newly introduced personage followed Bonacieux impatiently with his eyes +till he had gone out; and the moment the door closed, “They have seen each +other;” said he, approaching the cardinal eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” asked his Eminence. +</p> + +<p> +“He and she.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen and the duke?” cried Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de Lannoy, who is devoted to your Eminence, as you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did she not let me know sooner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether by chance or mistrust, the queen made Madame de Surgis sleep in her +chamber, and detained her all day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we are beaten! Now let us try to take our revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will assist you with all my heart, monseigneur; be assured of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did it come about?” +</p> + +<p> +“At half past twelve the queen was with her women—” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In her bedchamber—” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“When someone came and brought her a handkerchief from her laundress.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen immediately exhibited strong emotion; and despite the rouge with +which her face was covered evidently turned pale—” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, and then?” +</p> + +<p> +“She then arose, and with altered voice, ‘Ladies,’ said she, ‘wait for me ten +minutes, I shall soon return.’ She then opened the door of her alcove, and went +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did not Madame de Lannoy come and inform you instantly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing was certain; besides, her Majesty had said, ‘Ladies, wait for me,’ and +she did not dare to disobey the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long did the queen remain out of the chamber?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three-quarters of an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“None of her women accompanied her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only Donna Estafania.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she afterward return?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but only to take a little rosewood casket, with her cipher upon it, and +went out again immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when she finally returned, did she bring that casket with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Madame de Lannoy know what was in that casket?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; the diamond studs which his Majesty gave the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she came back without this casket?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de Lannoy, then, is of opinion that she gave them to Buckingham?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can she be so?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the course of the day Madame de Lannoy, in her quality of tire-woman of the +queen, looked for this casket, appeared uneasy at not finding it, and at length +asked information of the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen became exceedingly red, and replied that having in the evening +broken one of those studs, she had sent it to her goldsmith to be repaired.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must be called upon, and so ascertain if the thing be true or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just been with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the goldsmith?” +</p> + +<p> +“The goldsmith has heard nothing of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well! Rochefort, all is not lost; and perhaps—perhaps everything +is for the best.” +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is that I do not doubt your Eminence’s genius—” +</p> + +<p> +“Will repair the blunders of his agent—is that it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is exactly what I was going to say, if your Eminence had let me finish my +sentence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, do you know where the Duchesse de Chevreuse and the Duke of +Buckingham are now concealed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur; my people could tell me nothing on that head.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; or at least I guess. They were, one in the Rue de Vaugirard, No. 25; the +other in the Rue de la Harpe, No. 75.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your Eminence command that they both be instantly arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be too late; they will be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“But still, we can make sure that they are so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take ten men of my Guardsmen, and search the two houses thoroughly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Instantly, monseigneur.” And Rochefort went hastily out of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal, being left alone, reflected for an instant and then rang the bell +a third time. The same officer appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring the prisoner in again,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +M. Bonacieux was introduced afresh, and upon a sign from the cardinal, the +officer retired. +</p> + +<p> +“You have deceived me!” said the cardinal, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“I,” cried Bonacieux, “I deceive your Eminence!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wife, in going to Rue de Vaugirard and Rue de la Harpe, did not go to +find linen drapers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did she go, just God?” +</p> + +<p> +“She went to meet the Duchesse de Chevreuse and the Duke of Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Bonacieux, recalling all his remembrances of the circumstances, +“yes, that’s it. Your Eminence is right. I told my wife several times that it +was surprising that linen drapers should live in such houses as those, in +houses that had no signs; but she always laughed at me. Ah, monseigneur!” +continued Bonacieux, throwing himself at his Eminence’s feet, “ah, how truly +you are the cardinal, the great cardinal, the man of genius whom all the world +reveres!” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal, however contemptible might be the triumph gained over so vulgar a +being as Bonacieux, did not the less enjoy it for an instant; then, almost +immediately, as if a fresh thought has occurred, a smile played upon his lips, +and he said, offering his hand to the mercer, “Rise, my friend, you are a +worthy man.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal has touched me with his hand! I have touched the hand of the +great man!” cried Bonacieux. “The great man has called me his friend!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my friend, yes,” said the cardinal, with that paternal tone which he +sometimes knew how to assume, but which deceived none who knew him; “and as you +have been unjustly suspected, well, you must be indemnified. Here, take this +purse of a hundred pistoles, and pardon me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pardon you, monseigneur!” said Bonacieux, hesitating to take the purse, +fearing, doubtless, that this pretended gift was but a pleasantry. “But you are +able to have me arrested, you are able to have me tortured, you are able to +have me hanged; you are the master, and I could not have the least word to say. +Pardon you, monseigneur! You cannot mean that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, you are generous in this matter. I see it and +I thank you for it. Thus, then, you will take this bag, and you will go away +without being too malcontent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I go away enchanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, then, or rather, <i>au revoir</i>, for I hope we shall meet again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever Monseigneur wishes, I am always at at his Eminence’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be frequently, I assure you, for I have found something extremely +agreeable in your conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Au revoir</i>, Monsieur Bonacieux, <i>au revoir!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +And the cardinal made him a sign with his hand, to which Bonacieux replied by +bowing to the ground. He then went out backward, and when he was in the +antechamber the cardinal heard him, in his enthusiasm, crying aloud, “Long life +to the Monseigneur! Long life to his Eminence! Long life to the great +cardinal!” The cardinal listened with a smile to this vociferous manifestation +of the feelings of M. Bonacieux; and then, when Bonacieux’s cries were no +longer audible, “Good!” said he, “that man would henceforward lay down his life +for me.” And the cardinal began to examine with the greatest attention the map +of La Rochelle, which, as we have said, lay open on the desk, tracing with a +pencil the line in which the famous dyke was to pass which, eighteen months +later, shut up the port of the besieged city. As he was in the deepest of his +strategic meditations, the door opened, and Rochefort returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said the cardinal, eagerly, rising with a promptitude which proved the +degree of importance he attached to the commission with which he had charged +the count. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the latter, “a young woman of about twenty-six or twenty-eight +years of age, and a man of from thirty-five to forty, have indeed lodged at the +two houses pointed out by your Eminence; but the woman left last night, and the +man this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was they!” cried the cardinal, looking at the clock; “and now it is too +late to have them pursued. The duchess is at Tours, and the duke at Boulogne. +It is in London they must be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are your Eminence’s orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word of what has passed. Let the queen remain in perfect security; let +her be ignorant that we know her secret. Let her believe that we are in search +of some conspiracy or other. Send me the keeper of the seals, Séguier.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that man, what has your Eminence done with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“What man?” asked the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“That Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have done with him all that could be done. I have made him a spy upon his +wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The Comte de Rochefort bowed like a man who acknowledges the superiority of the +master as great, and retired. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, the cardinal seated himself again and wrote a letter, which he +secured with his special seal. Then he rang. The officer entered for the fourth +time. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Vitray to come to me,” said he, “and tell him to get ready for a +journey.” +</p> + +<p> +An instant after, the man he asked for was before him, booted and spurred. +</p> + +<p> +“Vitray,” said he, “you will go with all speed to London. You must not stop an +instant on the way. You will deliver this letter to Milady. Here is an order +for two hundred pistoles; call upon my treasurer and get the money. You shall +have as much again if you are back within six days, and have executed your +commission well.” +</p> + +<p> +The messenger, without replying a single word, bowed, took the letter, with the +order for the two hundred pistoles, and retired. +</p> + +<p> +Here is what the letter contained: +</p> + +<p> +M<small>ILADY</small>, Be at the first ball at which the Duke of Buckingham +shall be present. He will wear on his doublet twelve diamond studs; get as near +to him as you can, and cut off two. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as these studs shall be in your possession, inform me. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>Chapter XV.<br/> +MEN OF THE ROBE AND MEN OF THE SWORD</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">O</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> the day after these events had taken place, Athos not +having reappeared, M. de Tréville was informed by D’Artagnan and Porthos of the +circumstance. As to Aramis, he had asked for leave of absence for five days, +and was gone, it was said, to Rouen on family business. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville was the father of his soldiers. The lowest or the least known of +them, as soon as he assumed the uniform of the company, was as sure of his aid +and support as if he had been his own brother. +</p> + +<p> +He repaired, then, instantly to the office of the <i>lieutenant-criminel</i>. +The officer who commanded the post of the Red Cross was sent for, and by +successive inquiries they learned that Athos was then lodged in Fort l’Evêque. +</p> + +<p> +Athos had passed through all the examinations we have seen Bonacieux undergo. +</p> + +<p> +We were present at the scene in which the two captives were confronted with +each other. Athos, who had till that time said nothing for fear that +D’Artagnan, interrupted in his turn, should not have the time necessary, from +this moment declared that his name was Athos, and not D’Artagnan. He added that +he did not know either M. or Mme. Bonacieux; that he had never spoken to the +one or the other; that he had come, at about ten o’clock in the evening, to pay +a visit to his friend M. d’Artagnan, but that till that hour he had been at M. +de Tréville’s, where he had dined. “Twenty witnesses,” added he, “could attest +the fact”; and he named several distinguished gentlemen, and among them was M. +le Duc de la Trémouille. +</p> + +<p> +The second commissary was as much bewildered as the first had been by the +simple and firm declaration of the Musketeer, upon whom he was anxious to take +the revenge which men of the robe like at all times to gain over men of the +sword; but the name of M. de Tréville, and that of M. de la Trémouille, +commanded a little reflection. +</p> + +<p> +Athos was then sent to the cardinal; but unfortunately the cardinal was at the +Louvre with the king. +</p> + +<p> +It was precisely at this moment that M. de Tréville, on leaving the residence +of the <i>lieutenant-criminel</i> and the governor of Fort l’Evêque without +being able to find Athos, arrived at the palace. +</p> + +<p> +As captain of the Musketeers, M. de Tréville had the right of entry at all +times. +</p> + +<p> +It is well known how violent the king’s prejudices were against the queen, and +how carefully these prejudices were kept up by the cardinal, who in affairs of +intrigue mistrusted women infinitely more than men. One of the grand causes of +this prejudice was the friendship of Anne of Austria for Mme. de Chevreuse. +These two women gave him more uneasiness than the war with Spain, the quarrel +with England, or the embarrassment of the finances. In his eyes and to his +conviction, Mme. de Chevreuse not only served the queen in her political +intrigues, but, what tormented him still more, in her amorous intrigues. +</p> + +<p> +At the first word the cardinal spoke of Mme. de Chevreuse—who, though +exiled to Tours and believed to be in that city, had come to Paris, remained +there five days, and outwitted the police—the king flew into a furious +passion. Capricious and unfaithful, the king wished to be called Louis the Just +and Louis the Chaste. Posterity will find a difficulty in understanding this +character, which history explains only by facts and never by reason. +</p> + +<p> +But when the cardinal added that not only Mme. de Chevreuse had been in Paris, +but still further, that the queen had renewed with her one of those mysterious +correspondences which at that time was named a <i>cabal;</i> when he affirmed +that he, the cardinal, was about to unravel the most closely twisted thread of +this intrigue; that at the moment of arresting in the very act, with all the +proofs about her, the queen’s emissary to the exiled duchess, a Musketeer had +dared to interrupt the course of justice violently, by falling sword in hand +upon the honest men of the law, charged with investigating impartially the +whole affair in order to place it before the eyes of the king—Louis XIII. +could not contain himself, and he made a step toward the queen’s apartment with +that pale and mute indignation which, when it broke out, led this prince to the +commission of the most pitiless cruelty. And yet, in all this, the cardinal had +not yet said a word about the Duke of Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +At this instant M. de Tréville entered, cool, polite, and in irreproachable +costume. +</p> + +<p> +Informed of what had passed by the presence of the cardinal and the alteration +in the king’s countenance, M. de Tréville felt himself something like Samson +before the Philistines. +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIII. had already placed his hand on the knob of the door; at the noise of +M. de Tréville’s entrance he turned round. “You arrive in good time, monsieur,” +said the king, who, when his passions were raised to a certain point, could not +dissemble; “I have learned some fine things concerning your Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Tréville, coldly, “I have some pretty things to tell your Majesty +concerning these gownsmen.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” said the king, with hauteur. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honor to inform your Majesty,” continued M. de Tréville, in the +same tone, “that a party of <i>procureurs</i>, commissaries, and men of the +police—very estimable people, but very inveterate, as it appears, against +the uniform—have taken upon themselves to arrest in a house, to lead away +through the open street, and throw into Fort l’Evêque, all upon an order which +they have refused to show me, one of my, or rather your Musketeers, sire, of +irreproachable conduct, of an almost illustrious reputation, and whom your +Majesty knows favorably, Monsieur Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos,” said the king, mechanically; “yes, certainly I know that name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let your Majesty remember,” said Tréville, “that Monsieur Athos is the +Musketeer who, in the annoying duel which you are acquainted with, had the +misfortune to wound Monsieur de Cahusac so seriously. <i>A propos</i>, +monseigneur,” continued Tréville, addressing the cardinal, “Monsieur de Cahusac +is quite recovered, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the cardinal, biting his lips with anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos, then, went to pay a visit to one of his friends absent at the time,” +continued Tréville, “to a young Béarnais, a cadet in his Majesty’s Guards, the +company of Monsieur Dessessart, but scarcely had he arrived at his friend’s and +taken up a book, while waiting his return, when a mixed crowd of bailiffs and +soldiers came and laid siege to the house, broke open several doors—” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal made the king a sign, which signified, “That was on account of the +affair about which I spoke to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“We all know that,” interrupted the king; “for all that was done for our +service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Tréville, “it was also for your Majesty’s service that one of my +Musketeers, who was innocent, has been seized, that he has been placed between +two guards like a malefactor, and that this gallant man, who has ten times shed +his blood in your Majesty’s service and is ready to shed it again, has been +paraded through the midst of an insolent populace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said the king, who began to be shaken, “was it so managed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Tréville,” said the cardinal, with the greatest phlegm, “does not +tell your Majesty that this innocent Musketeer, this gallant man, had only an +hour before attacked, sword in hand, four commissaries of inquiry, who were +delegated by myself to examine into an affair of the highest importance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I defy your Eminence to prove it,” cried Tréville, with his Gascon freedom and +military frankness; “for one hour before, Monsieur Athos, who, I will confide +it to your Majesty, is really a man of the highest quality, did me the honor +after having dined with me to be conversing in the saloon of my hôtel, with the +Duc de la Trémouille and the Comte de Châlus, who happened to be there.” +</p> + +<p> +The king looked at the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“A written examination attests it,” said the cardinal, replying aloud to the +mute interrogation of his Majesty; “and the ill-treated people have drawn up +the following, which I have the honor to present to your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is the written report of the gownsmen to be placed in comparison with the +word of honor of a swordsman?” replied Tréville haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Tréville, hold your tongue,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“If his Eminence entertains any suspicion against one of my Musketeers,” said +Tréville, “the justice of Monsieur the Cardinal is so well known that I demand +an inquiry.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the house in which the judicial inquiry was made,” continued the impassive +cardinal, “there lodges, I believe, a young Béarnais, a friend of the +Musketeer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Eminence means Monsieur d’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean a young man whom you patronize, Monsieur de Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your Eminence, it is the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not suspect this young man of having given bad counsel?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Athos, to a man double his age?” interrupted Tréville. “No, monseigneur. +Besides, D’Artagnan passed the evening with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the cardinal, “everybody seems to have passed the evening with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your Eminence doubt my word?” said Tréville, with a brow flushed with +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“No, God forbid,” said the cardinal; “only, at what hour was he with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that I can speak positively, your Eminence; for as he came in I +remarked that it was but half past nine by the clock, although I had believed +it to be later.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what hour did he leave your hôtel?” +</p> + +<p> +“At half past ten—an hour after the event.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied the cardinal, who could not for an instant suspect the loyalty +of Tréville, and who felt that the victory was escaping him, “well, but Athos +<i>was</i> taken in the house in the Rue des Fossoyeurs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is one friend forbidden to visit another, or a Musketeer of my company to +fraternize with a Guard of Dessessart’s company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, when the house where he fraternizes is suspected.” +</p> + +<p> +“That house is suspected, Tréville,” said the king; “perhaps you did not know +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sire, I did not. The house may be suspected; but I deny that it is so +in the part of it inhabited by Monsieur d’Artagnan, for I can affirm, sire, if +I can believe what he says, that there does not exist a more devoted servant of +your Majesty, or a more profound admirer of Monsieur the Cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it not this D’Artagnan who wounded Jussac one day, in that unfortunate +encounter which took place near the Convent of the Carmes-Déchaussés?” asked +the king, looking at the cardinal, who colored with vexation. +</p> + +<p> +“And the next day, Bernajoux. Yes, sire, yes, it is the same; and your Majesty +has a good memory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, how shall we decide?” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“That concerns your Majesty more than me,” said the cardinal. “I should affirm +the culpability.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I deny it,” said Tréville. “But his Majesty has judges, and these judges +will decide.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is best,” said the king. “Send the case before the judges; it is their +business to judge, and they shall judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only,” replied Tréville, “it is a sad thing that in the unfortunate times in +which we live, the purest life, the most incontestable virtue, cannot exempt a +man from infamy and persecution. The army, I will answer for it, will be but +little pleased at being exposed to rigorous treatment on account of police +affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +The expression was imprudent; but M. de Tréville launched it with knowledge of +his cause. He was desirous of an explosion, because in that case the mine +throws forth fire, and fire enlightens. +</p> + +<p> +“Police affairs!” cried the king, taking up Tréville’s words, “police affairs! +And what do you know about them, Monsieur? Meddle with your Musketeers, and do +not annoy me in this way. It appears, according to your account, that if by +mischance a Musketeer is arrested, France is in danger. What a noise about a +Musketeer! I would arrest ten of them, <i>ventrebleu</i>, a hundred, even, all +the company, and I would not allow a whisper.” +</p> + +<p> +“From the moment they are suspected by your Majesty,” said Tréville, “the +Musketeers are guilty; therefore, you see me prepared to surrender my +sword—for after having accused my soldiers, there can be no doubt that +Monsieur the Cardinal will end by accusing me. It is best to constitute myself +at once a prisoner with Athos, who is already arrested, and with D’Artagnan, +who most probably will be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gascon-headed man, will you have done?” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” replied Tréville, without lowering his voice in the least, “either +order my Musketeer to be restored to me, or let him be tried.” +</p> + +<p> +“He shall be tried,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, so much the better; for in that case I shall demand of his Majesty +permission to plead for him.” +</p> + +<p> +The king feared an outbreak. +</p> + +<p> +“If his Eminence,” said he, “did not have personal motives—” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal saw what the king was about to say and interrupted him: +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” said he; “but the instant your Majesty considers me a prejudiced +judge, I withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the king, “will you swear, by my father, that Athos was at your +residence during the event and that he took no part in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By your glorious father, and by yourself, whom I love and venerate above all +the world, I swear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be so kind as to reflect, sire,” said the cardinal. “If we release the +prisoner thus, we shall never know the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos may always be found,” replied Tréville, “ready to answer, when it shall +please the gownsmen to interrogate him. He will not desert, Monsieur the +Cardinal, be assured of that; I will answer for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he will not desert,” said the king; “he can always be found, as Tréville +says. Besides,” added he, lowering his voice and looking with a suppliant air +at the cardinal, “let us give them apparent security; that is policy.” +</p> + +<p> +This policy of Louis XIII. made Richelieu smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Order it as you please, sire; you possess the right of pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“The right of pardoning only applies to the guilty,” said Tréville, who was +determined to have the last word, “and my Musketeer is innocent. It is not +mercy, then, that you are about to accord, sire, it is justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he is in the Fort l’Evêque?” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, in solitary confinement, in a dungeon, like the lowest criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” murmured the king; “what must be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sign an order for his release, and all will be said,” replied the cardinal. “I +believe with your Majesty that Monsieur de Tréville’s guarantee is more than +sufficient.” +</p> + +<p> +Tréville bowed very respectfully, with a joy that was not unmixed with fear; he +would have preferred an obstinate resistance on the part of the cardinal to +this sudden yielding. +</p> + +<p> +The king signed the order for release, and Tréville carried it away without +delay. As he was about to leave the presence, the cardinal gave him a friendly +smile, and said, “A perfect harmony reigns, sire, between the leaders and the +soldiers of your Musketeers, which must be profitable for the service and +honorable to all.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will play me some dog’s trick or other, and that immediately,” said +Tréville. “One has never the last word with such a man. But let us be +quick—the king may change his mind in an hour; and at all events it is +more difficult to replace a man in the Fort l’Evêque or the Bastille who has +got out, than to keep a prisoner there who is in.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville made his entrance triumphantly into the Fort l’Evêque, whence he +delivered the Musketeer, whose peaceful indifference had not for a moment +abandoned him. +</p> + +<p> +The first time he saw D’Artagnan, “You have come off well,” said he to him; +“there is your Jussac thrust paid for. There still remains that of Bernajoux, +but you must not be too confident.” +</p> + +<p> +As to the rest, M. de Tréville had good reason to mistrust the cardinal and to +think that all was not over, for scarcely had the captain of the Musketeers +closed the door after him, than his Eminence said to the king, “Now that we are +at length by ourselves, we will, if your Majesty pleases, converse seriously. +Sire, Buckingham has been in Paris five days, and only left this morning.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>Chapter XVI.<br/> +IN WHICH M. SÉGUIER, KEEPER OF THE SEALS, LOOKS MORE THAN ONCE FOR THE +BELL</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> is impossible to form an idea of the impression these +few words made upon Louis XIII. He grew pale and red alternately; and the +cardinal saw at once that he had recovered by a single blow all the ground he +had lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham in Paris!” cried he, “and why does he come?” +</p> + +<p> +“To conspire, no doubt, with your enemies, the Huguenots and the Spaniards.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, <i>pardieu</i>, no! To conspire against my honor with Madame de Chevreuse, +Madame de Longueville, and the Condés.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire, what an idea! The queen is too virtuous; and besides, loves your +Majesty too well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Woman is weak, Monsieur Cardinal,” said the king; “and as to loving me much, I +have my own opinion as to that love.” +</p> + +<p> +“I not the less maintain,” said the cardinal, “that the Duke of Buckingham came +to Paris for a project wholly political.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am sure that he came for quite another purpose, Monsieur Cardinal; but +if the queen be guilty, let her tremble!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said the cardinal, “whatever repugnance I may have to directing my +mind to such a treason, your Majesty compels me to think of it. Madame de +Lannoy, whom, according to your Majesty’s command, I have frequently +interrogated, told me this morning that the night before last her Majesty sat +up very late, that this morning she wept much, and that she was writing all +day.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it!” cried the king; “to him, no doubt. Cardinal, I must have the +queen’s papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how to take them, sire? It seems to me that it is neither your Majesty nor +myself who can charge himself with such a mission.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did they act with regard to the Maréchale d’Ancre?” cried the king, in the +highest state of choler; “first her closets were thoroughly searched, and then +she herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Maréchale d’Ancre was no more than the Maréchale d’Ancre. A Florentine +adventurer, sire, and that was all; while the august spouse of your Majesty is +Anne of Austria, Queen of France—that is to say, one of the greatest +princesses in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is not the less guilty, Monsieur Duke! The more she has forgotten the high +position in which she was placed, the more degrading is her fall. Besides, I +long ago determined to put an end to all these petty intrigues of policy and +love. She has near her a certain Laporte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, I believe, is the mainspring of all this, I confess,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“You think then, as I do, that she deceives me?” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe, and I repeat it to your Majesty, that the queen conspires against +the power of the king, but I have not said against his honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I—I tell you against both. I tell you the queen does not love me; I +tell you she loves another; I tell you she loves that infamous Buckingham! Why +did you not have him arrested while in Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrest the Duke! Arrest the prime minister of King Charles I.! Think of it, +sire! What a scandal! And if the suspicions of your Majesty, which I still +continue to doubt, should prove to have any foundation, what a terrible +disclosure, what a fearful scandal!” +</p> + +<p> +“But as he exposed himself like a vagabond or a thief, he should have +been—” +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIII. stopped, terrified at what he was about to say, while Richelieu, +stretching out his neck, waited uselessly for the word which had died on the +lips of the king. +</p> + +<p> +“He should have been—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said the king, “nothing. But all the time he was in Paris, you, of +course, did not lose sight of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did he lodge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rue de la Harpe. No. 75.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the side of the Luxembourg.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are certain that the queen and he did not see each other?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe the queen to have too high a sense of her duty, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they have corresponded; it is to him that the queen has been writing all +the day. Monsieur Duke, I must have those letters!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, notwithstanding—” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Duke, at whatever price it may be, I will have them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would, however, beg your Majesty to observe—” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you, then, also join in betraying me, Monsieur Cardinal, by thus always +opposing my will? Are you also in accord with Spain and England, with Madame de +Chevreuse and the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” replied the cardinal, sighing, “I believed myself secure from such a +suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Cardinal, you have heard me; I will have those letters.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is but one way.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be to charge Monsieur de Séguier, the keeper of the seals, with +this mission. The matter enters completely into the duties of the post.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him be sent for instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is most likely at my hôtel. I requested him to call, and when I came to the +Louvre I left orders if he came, to desire him to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him be sent for instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty’s orders shall be executed; but—” +</p> + +<p> +“But what?” +</p> + +<p> +“But the queen will perhaps refuse to obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“My orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if she is ignorant that these orders come from the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that she may have no doubt on that head, I will go and inform her +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty will not forget that I have done everything in my power to +prevent a rupture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Duke, yes, I know you are very indulgent toward the queen, too indulgent, +perhaps; we shall have occasion, I warn you, at some future period to speak of +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever it shall please your Majesty; but I shall be always happy and proud, +sire, to sacrifice myself to the harmony which I desire to see reign between +you and the Queen of France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Cardinal, very well; but, meantime, send for Monsieur the Keeper of +the Seals. I will go to the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +And Louis XIII., opening the door of communication, passed into the corridor +which led from his apartments to those of Anne of Austria. +</p> + +<p> +The queen was in the midst of her women—Mme. de Guitaut, Mme. de Sable, +Mme. de Montbazon, and Mme. de Guémené. In a corner was the Spanish companion, +Donna Estafania, who had followed her from Madrid. Mme. Guémené was reading +aloud, and everybody was listening to her with attention with the exception of +the queen, who had, on the contrary, desired this reading in order that she +might be able, while feigning to listen, to pursue the thread of her own +thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +These thoughts, gilded as they were by a last reflection of love, were not the +less sad. Anne of Austria, deprived of the confidence of her husband, pursued +by the hatred of the cardinal, who could not pardon her for having repulsed a +more tender feeling, having before her eyes the example of the queen-mother +whom that hatred had tormented all her life—though Marie de Médicis, if +the memoirs of the time are to be believed, had begun by according to the +cardinal that sentiment which Anne of Austria always refused him—Anne of +Austria had seen her most devoted servants fall around her, her most intimate +confidants, her dearest favorites. Like those unfortunate persons endowed with +a fatal gift, she brought misfortune upon everything she touched. Her +friendship was a fatal sign which called down persecution. Mme. de Chevreuse +and Mme. de Bernet were exiled, and Laporte did not conceal from his mistress +that he expected to be arrested every instant. +</p> + +<p> +It was at the moment when she was plunged in the deepest and darkest of these +reflections that the door of the chamber opened, and the king entered. +</p> + +<p> +The reader hushed herself instantly. All the ladies rose, and there was a +profound silence. As to the king, he made no demonstration of politeness, only +stopping before the queen. “Madame,” said he, “you are about to receive a visit +from the chancellor, who will communicate certain matters to you with which I +have charged him.” +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate queen, who was constantly threatened with divorce, exile, and +trial even, turned pale under her rouge, and could not refrain from saying, +“But why this visit, sire? What can the chancellor have to say to me that your +Majesty could not say yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +The king turned upon his heel without reply, and almost at the same instant the +captain of the Guards, M. de Guitant, announced the visit of the chancellor. +</p> + +<p> +When the chancellor appeared, the king had already gone out by another door. +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor entered, half smiling, half blushing. As we shall probably meet +with him again in the course of our history, it may be well for our readers to +be made at once acquainted with him. +</p> + +<p> +This chancellor was a pleasant man. He was Des Roches le Masle, canon of Notre +Dame, who had formerly been valet of a bishop, who introduced him to his +Eminence as a perfectly devout man. The cardinal trusted him, and therein found +his advantage. +</p> + +<p> +There are many stories related of him, and among them this. After a wild youth, +he had retired into a convent, there to expiate, at least for some time, the +follies of adolescence. On entering this holy place, the poor penitent was +unable to shut the door so close as to prevent the passions he fled from +entering with him. He was incessantly attacked by them, and the superior, to +whom he had confided this misfortune, wishing as much as in him lay to free him +from them, had advised him, in order to conjure away the tempting demon, to +have recourse to the bell rope, and ring with all his might. At the +denunciating sound, the monks would be rendered aware that temptation was +besieging a brother, and all the community would go to prayers. +</p> + +<p> +This advice appeared good to the future chancellor. He conjured the evil spirit +with abundance of prayers offered up by the monks. But the devil does not +suffer himself to be easily dispossessed from a place in which he has fixed his +garrison. In proportion as they redoubled the exorcisms he redoubled the +temptations; so that day and night the bell was ringing full swing, announcing +the extreme desire for mortification which the penitent experienced. +</p> + +<p> +The monks had no longer an instant of repose. By day they did nothing but +ascend and descend the steps which led to the chapel; at night, in addition to +complines and matins, they were further obliged to leap twenty times out of +their beds and prostrate themselves on the floor of their cells. +</p> + +<p> +It is not known whether it was the devil who gave way, or the monks who grew +tired; but within three months the penitent reappeared in the world with the +reputation of being the most terrible <i>possessed</i> that ever existed. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving the convent he entered into the magistracy, became president on the +place of his uncle, embraced the cardinal’s party, which did not prove want of +sagacity, became chancellor, served his Eminence with zeal in his hatred +against the queen-mother and his vengeance against Anne of Austria, stimulated +the judges in the affair of Calais, encouraged the attempts of M. de Laffemas, +chief gamekeeper of France; then, at length, invested with the entire +confidence of the cardinal—a confidence which he had so well +earned—he received the singular commission for the execution of which he +presented himself in the queen’s apartments. +</p> + +<p> +The queen was still standing when he entered; but scarcely had she perceived +him then she reseated herself in her armchair, and made a sign to her women to +resume their cushions and stools, and with an air of supreme hauteur, said, +“What do you desire, monsieur, and with what object do you present yourself +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“To make, madame, in the name of the king, and without prejudice to the respect +which I have the honor to owe to your Majesty a close examination into all your +papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, monsieur, an investigation of my papers—mine! Truly, this is an +indignity!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be kind enough to pardon me, madame; but in this circumstance I am but the +instrument which the king employs. Has not his Majesty just left you, and has +he not himself asked you to prepare for this visit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Search, then, monsieur! I am a criminal, as it appears. Estafania, give up the +keys of my drawers and my desks.” +</p> + +<p> +For form’s sake the chancellor paid a visit to the pieces of furniture named; +but he well knew that it was not in a piece of furniture that the queen would +place the important letter she had written that day. +</p> + +<p> +When the chancellor had opened and shut twenty times the drawers of the +secretaries, it became necessary, whatever hesitation he might +experience—it became necessary, I say, to come to the conclusion of the +affair; that is to say, to search the queen herself. The chancellor advanced, +therefore, toward Anne of Austria, and said with a very perplexed and +embarrassed air, “And now it remains for me to make the principal examination.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” asked the queen, who did not understand, or rather was not +willing to understand. +</p> + +<p> +“His majesty is certain that a letter has been written by you during the day; +he knows that it has not yet been sent to its address. This letter is not in +your table nor in your secretary; and yet this letter must be somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you dare to lift your hand to your queen?” said Anne of Austria, drawing +herself up to her full height, and fixing her eyes upon the chancellor with an +expression almost threatening. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a faithful subject of the king, madame, and all that his Majesty commands +I shall do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is true!” said Anne of Austria; “and the spies of the cardinal have +served him faithfully. I have written a letter today; that letter is not yet +gone. The letter is here.” And the queen laid her beautiful hand on her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“Then give me that letter, madame,” said the chancellor. +</p> + +<p> +“I will give it to none but the king, monsieur,” said Anne. +</p> + +<p> +“If the king had desired that the letter should be given to him, madame, he +would have demanded it of you himself. But I repeat to you, I am charged with +reclaiming it; and if you do not give it up—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has, then, charged me to take it from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“That my orders go far, madame; and that I am authorized to seek for the +suspected paper, even on the person of your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“What horror!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Be kind enough, then, madame, to act more compliantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“The conduct is infamously violent! Do you know that, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“The king commands it, madame; excuse me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not suffer it! No, no, I would rather die!” cried the queen, in whom +the imperious blood of Spain and Austria began to rise. +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor made a profound reverence. Then, with the intention quite patent +of not drawing back a foot from the accomplishment of the commission with which +he was charged, and as the attendant of an executioner might have done in the +chamber of torture, he approached Anne of Austria, from whose eyes at the same +instant sprang tears of rage. +</p> + +<p> +The queen was, as we have said, of great beauty. The commission might well be +called delicate; and the king had reached, in his jealousy of Buckingham, the +point of not being jealous of anyone else. +</p> + +<p> +Without doubt the chancellor Séguier looked about at that moment for the rope +of the famous bell; but not finding it he summoned his resolution, and +stretched forth his hands toward the place where the queen had acknowledged the +paper was to be found. +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria took one step backward, became so pale that it might be said +she was dying, and leaning with her left hand upon a table behind her to keep +herself from falling, she with her right hand drew the paper from her bosom and +held it out to the keeper of the seals. +</p> + +<p> +“There, monsieur, there is that letter!” cried the queen, with a broken and +trembling voice; “take it, and deliver me from your odious presence.” +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor, who, on his part, trembled with an emotion easily to be +conceived, took the letter, bowed to the ground, and retired. The door was +scarcely closed upon him, when the queen sank, half fainting, into the arms of +her women. +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor carried the letter to the king without having read a single word +of it. The king took it with a trembling hand, looked for the address, which +was wanting, became very pale, opened it slowly, then seeing by the first words +that it was addressed to the King of Spain, he read it rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +It was nothing but a plan of attack against the cardinal. The queen pressed her +brother and the Emperor of Austria to appear to be wounded, as they really +were, by the policy of Richelieu—the eternal object of which was the +abasement of the house of Austria—to declare war against France, and as a +condition of peace, to insist upon the dismissal of the cardinal; but as to +love, there was not a single word about it in all the letter. +</p> + +<p> +The king, quite delighted, inquired if the cardinal was still at the Louvre; he +was told that his Eminence awaited the orders of his Majesty in the business +cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +The king went straight to him. +</p> + +<p> +“There, Duke,” said he, “you were right and I was wrong. The whole intrigue is +political, and there is not the least question of love in this letter; but, on +the other hand, there is abundant question of you.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal took the letter, and read it with the greatest attention; then, +when he had arrived at the end of it, he read it a second time. “Well, your +Majesty,” said he, “you see how far my enemies go; they menace you with two +wars if you do not dismiss me. In your place, in truth, sire, I should yield to +such powerful instance; and on my part, it would be a real happiness to +withdraw from public affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“What say you, Duke?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, sire, that my health is sinking under these excessive struggles and +these never-ending labors. I say that according to all probability I shall not +be able to undergo the fatigues of the siege of La Rochelle, and that it would +be far better that you should appoint there either Monsieur de Condé, Monsieur +de Bassopierre, or some valiant gentleman whose business is war, and not me, +who am a churchman, and who am constantly turned aside for my real vocation to +look after matters for which I have no aptitude. You would be the happier for +it at home, sire, and I do not doubt you would be the greater for it abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Duke,” said the king, “I understand you. Be satisfied, all who are +named in that letter shall be punished as they deserve, even the queen +herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say, sire? God forbid that the queen should suffer the least +inconvenience or uneasiness on my account! She has always believed me, sire, to +be her enemy; although your Majesty can bear witness that I have always taken +her part warmly, even against you. Oh, if she betrayed your Majesty on the side +of your honor, it would be quite another thing, and I should be the first to +say, ‘No grace, sire—no grace for the guilty!’ Happily, there is nothing +of the kind, and your Majesty has just acquired a new proof of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, Monsieur Cardinal,” said the king, “and you were right, as you +always are; but the queen, not the less, deserves all my anger.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is you, sire, who have now incurred hers. And even if she were to be +seriously offended, I could well understand it; your Majesty has treated her +with a severity—” +</p> + +<p> +“It is thus I will always treat my enemies and yours, Duke, however high they +may be placed, and whatever peril I may incur in acting severely toward them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen is my enemy, but is not yours, sire; on the contrary, she is a +devoted, submissive, and irreproachable wife. Allow me, then, sire, to +intercede for her with your Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her humble herself, then, and come to me first.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, sire, set the example. You have committed the first wrong, +since it was you who suspected the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! I make the first advances?” said the king. “Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I entreat you to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, in what manner can I make advances first?” +</p> + +<p> +“By doing a thing which you know will be agreeable to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give a ball; you know how much the queen loves dancing. I will answer for it, +her resentment will not hold out against such an attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Cardinal, you know that I do not like worldly pleasures.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen will only be the more grateful to you, as she knows your antipathy +for that amusement; besides, it will be an opportunity for her to wear those +beautiful diamonds which you gave her recently on her birthday and with which +she has since had no occasion to adorn herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see, Monsieur Cardinal, we shall see,” said the king, who, in his joy +at finding the queen guilty of a crime which he cared little about, and +innocent of a fault of which he had great dread, was ready to make up all +differences with her, “we shall see, but upon my honor, you are too indulgent +toward her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said the cardinal, “leave severity to your ministers. Clemency is a +royal virtue; employ it, and you will find that you derive advantage therein.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the cardinal, hearing the clock strike eleven, bowed low, asking +permission of the king to retire, and supplicating him to come to a good +understanding with the queen. +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria, who, in consequence of the seizure of her letter, expected +reproaches, was much astonished the next day to see the king make some attempts +at reconciliation with her. Her first movement was repellent. Her womanly pride +and her queenly dignity had both been so cruelly offended that she could not +come round at the first advance; but, overpersuaded by the advice of her women, +she at last had the appearance of beginning to forget. The king took advantage +of this favorable moment to tell her that he had the intention of shortly +giving a fête. +</p> + +<p> +A fête was so rare a thing for poor Anne of Austria that at this announcement, +as the cardinal had predicted, the last trace of her resentment disappeared, if +not from her heart, at least from her countenance. She asked upon what day this +fête would take place, but the king replied that he must consult the cardinal +upon that head. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, every day the king asked the cardinal when this fête should take place; +and every day the cardinal, under some pretext, deferred fixing it. Ten days +passed away thus. +</p> + +<p> +On the eighth day after the scene we have described, the cardinal received a +letter with the London stamp which only contained these lines: “I have them; +but I am unable to leave London for want of money. Send me five hundred +pistoles, and four or five days after I have received them I shall be in +Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +On the same day the cardinal received this letter the king put his customary +question to him. +</p> + +<p> +Richelieu counted on his fingers, and said to himself, “She will arrive, she +says, four or five days after having received the money. It will require four +or five days for the transmission of the money, four or five days for her to +return; that makes ten days. Now, allowing for contrary winds, accidents, and a +woman’s weakness, there are twelve days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Monsieur Duke,” said the king, “have you made your calculations?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire. Today is the twentieth of September. The aldermen of the city give +a fête on the third of October. That will fall in wonderfully well; you will +not appear to have gone out of your way to please the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the cardinal added, “<i>A propos</i>, sire, do not forget to tell her +Majesty the evening before the fête that you should like to see how her diamond +studs become her.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>Chapter XVII.<br/> +BONACIEUX AT HOME</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> was the second time the cardinal had mentioned these +diamond studs to the king. Louis XIII. was struck with this insistence, and +began to fancy that this recommendation concealed some mystery. +</p> + +<p> +More than once the king had been humiliated by the cardinal, whose police, +without having yet attained the perfection of the modern police, were +excellent, being better informed than himself, even upon what was going on in +his own household. He hoped, then, in a conversation with Anne of Austria, to +obtain some information from that conversation, and afterward to come upon his +Eminence with some secret which the cardinal either knew or did not know, but +which, in either case, would raise him infinitely in the eyes of his minister. +</p> + +<p> +He went then to the queen, and according to custom accosted her with fresh +menaces against those who surrounded her. Anne of Austria lowered her head, +allowed the torrent to flow on without replying, hoping that it would cease of +itself; but this was not what Louis XIII. meant. Louis XIII. wanted a discussion +from which some light or other might break, convinced as he was that the +cardinal had some afterthought and was preparing for him one of those terrible +surprises which his Eminence was so skillful in getting up. He arrived at this +end by his persistence in accusation. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried Anne of Austria, tired of these vague attacks, “but, sire, you do +not tell me all that you have in your heart. What have I done, then? Let me +know what crime I have committed. It is impossible that your Majesty can make +all this ado about a letter written to my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +The king, attacked in a manner so direct, did not know what to answer; and he +thought that this was the moment for expressing the desire which he was not +going to have made until the evening before the fête. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said he, with dignity, “there will shortly be a ball at the Hôtel de +Ville. I wish, in order to honor our worthy aldermen, you should appear in +ceremonial costume, and above all, ornamented with the diamond studs which I +gave you on your birthday. That is my answer.” +</p> + +<p> +The answer was terrible. Anne of Austria believed that Louis XIII. knew all, and +that the cardinal had persuaded him to employ this long dissimulation of seven +or eight days, which, likewise, was characteristic. She became excessively +pale, leaned her beautiful hand upon a <i>console</i>, which hand appeared then +like one of wax, and looking at the king with terror in her eyes, she was +unable to reply by a single syllable. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear, madame,” said the king, who enjoyed the embarrassment to its full +extent, but without guessing the cause. “You hear, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, I hear,” stammered the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“You will appear at this ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“With those studs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen’s paleness, if possible, increased; the king perceived it, and +enjoyed it with that cold cruelty which was one of the worst sides of his +character. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is agreed,” said the king, “and that is all I had to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But on what day will this ball take place?” asked Anne of Austria. +</p> + +<p> +Louis XIII. felt instinctively that he ought not to reply to this question, the +queen having put it in an almost dying voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, very shortly, madame,” said he; “but I do not precisely recollect the date +of the day. I will ask the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the cardinal, then, who informed you of this fête?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame,” replied the astonished king; “but why do you ask that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was he who told you to invite me to appear with these studs?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, madame—” +</p> + +<p> +“It was he, sire, it was he!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what does it signify whether it was he or I? Is there any crime in +this request?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will appear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well,” said the king, retiring, “that is well; I count upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen made a curtsy, less from etiquette than because her knees were +sinking under her. The king went away enchanted. +</p> + +<p> +“I am lost,” murmured the queen, “lost!—for the cardinal knows all, and +it is he who urges on the king, who as yet knows nothing but will soon know +everything. I am lost! My God, my God, my God!” +</p> + +<p> +She knelt upon a cushion and prayed, with her head buried between her +palpitating arms. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, her position was terrible. Buckingham had returned to London; Mme. de +Chevreuse was at Tours. More closely watched than ever, the queen felt certain, +without knowing how to tell which, that one of her women had betrayed her. +Laporte could not leave the Louvre; she had not a soul in the world in whom she +could confide. Thus, while contemplating the misfortune which threatened her +and the abandonment in which she was left, she broke out into sobs and tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I be of service to your Majesty?” said all at once a voice full of +sweetness and pity. +</p> + +<p> +The queen turned sharply round, for there could be no deception in the +expression of that voice; it was a friend who spoke thus. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, at one of the doors which opened into the queen’s apartment appeared +the pretty Mme. Bonacieux. She had been engaged in arranging the dresses and +linen in a closet when the king entered; she could not get out and had heard +all. +</p> + +<p> +The queen uttered a piercing cry at finding herself surprised—for in her +trouble she did not at first recognize the young woman who had been given to +her by Laporte. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, fear nothing, madame!” said the young woman, clasping her hands and +weeping herself at the queen’s sorrows; “I am your Majesty’s, body and soul, +and however far I may be from you, however inferior may be my position, I +believe I have discovered a means of extricating your Majesty from your +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, oh, heaven, you!” cried the queen; “but look me in the face. I am +betrayed on all sides. Can I trust in you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” cried the young woman, falling on her knees; “upon my soul, I am +ready to die for your Majesty!” +</p> + +<p> +This expression sprang from the very bottom of the heart, and, like the first, +there was no mistaking it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “yes, there are traitors here; but by the holy +name of the Virgin, I swear that no one is more devoted to your Majesty than I +am. Those studs which the king speaks of, you gave them to the Duke of +Buckingham, did you not? Those studs were enclosed in a little rosewood box +which he held under his arm? Am I deceived? Is it not so, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” murmured the queen, whose teeth chattered with fright. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, those studs,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “we must have them back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, without doubt, it is necessary,” cried the queen; “but how am I to act? +How can it be effected?” +</p> + +<p> +“Someone must be sent to the duke.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who, who? In whom can I trust?” +</p> + +<p> +“Place confidence in me, madame; do me that honor, my queen, and I will find a +messenger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I must write.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; that is indispensable. Two words from the hand of your Majesty and +your private seal.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these two words would bring about my condemnation, divorce, exile!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if they fell into infamous hands. But I will answer for these two words +being delivered to their address.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! I must then place my life, my honor, my reputation, in your +hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, madame, you must; and I will save them all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how? Tell me at least the means.” +</p> + +<p> +“My husband had been at liberty these two or three days. I have not yet had +time to see him again. He is a worthy, honest man who entertains neither love +nor hatred for anybody. He will do anything I wish. He will set out upon +receiving an order from me, without knowing what he carries, and he will carry +your Majesty’s letter, without even knowing it is from your Majesty, to the +address which is on it.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen took the two hands of the young woman with a burst of emotion, gazed +at her as if to read her very heart, and, seeing nothing but sincerity in her +beautiful eyes, embraced her tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do that,” cried she, “and you will have saved my life, you will have saved my +honor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not exaggerate the service I have the happiness to render your Majesty. I +have nothing to save for your Majesty; you are only the victim of perfidious +plots.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, that is true, my child,” said the queen, “you are right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me then, that letter, madame; time presses.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen ran to a little table, on which were ink, paper, and pens. She wrote +two lines, sealed the letter with her private seal, and gave it to Mme. +Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said the queen, “we are forgetting one very necessary thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Money.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is true,” said she, “and I will confess to your Majesty that my +husband—” +</p> + +<p> +“Your husband has none. Is that what you would say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has some, but he is very avaricious; that is his fault. Nevertheless, let +not your Majesty be uneasy, we will find means.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have none, either,” said the queen. Those who have read the +<i>Memoirs</i> of Mme. de Motteville will not be astonished at this reply. “But +wait a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Anne of Austria ran to her jewel case. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said she, “here is a ring of great value, as I have been assured. It +came from my brother, the King of Spain. It is mine, and I am at liberty to +dispose of it. Take this ring; raise money with it, and let your husband set +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“In an hour you shall be obeyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see the address,” said the queen, speaking so low that Mme. Bonacieux +could hardly hear what she said, “To my Lord Duke of Buckingham, London.” +</p> + +<p> +“The letter shall be given to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Generous girl!” cried Anne of Austria. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux kissed the hands of the queen, concealed the paper in the bosom +of her dress, and disappeared with the lightness of a bird. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes afterward she was at home. As she told the queen, she had not seen +her husband since his liberation; she was ignorant of the change that had taken +place in him with respect to the cardinal—a change which had since been +strengthened by two or three visits from the Comte de Rochefort, who had become +the best friend of Bonacieux, and had persuaded him, without much trouble, that +no culpable sentiments had prompted the abduction of his wife, but that it was +only a political precaution. +</p> + +<p> +She found M. Bonacieux alone; the poor man was recovering with difficulty the +order in his house, in which he had found most of the furniture broken and the +closets nearly emptied—justice not being one of the three things which +King Solomon names as leaving no traces of their passage. As to the servant, +she had run away at the moment of her master’s arrest. Terror had had such an +effect upon the poor girl that she had never ceased walking from Paris till she +reached Burgundy, her native place. +</p> + +<p> +The worthy mercer had, immediately upon re-entering his house, informed his +wife of his happy return, and his wife had replied by congratulating him, and +telling him that the first moment she could steal from her duties should be +devoted to paying him a visit. +</p> + +<p> +This first moment had been delayed five days, which, under any other +circumstances, might have appeared rather long to M. Bonacieux; but he had, in +the visit he had made to the cardinal and in the visits Rochefort had made him, +ample subjects for reflection, and as everybody knows, nothing makes time pass +more quickly than reflection. +</p> + +<p> +This was the more so because Bonacieux’s reflections were all rose-colored. +Rochefort called him his friend, his dear Bonacieux, and never ceased telling +him that the cardinal had a great respect for him. The mercer fancied himself +already on the high road to honors and fortune. +</p> + +<p> +On her side Mme. Bonacieux had also reflected; but, it must be admitted, upon +something widely different from ambition. In spite of herself her thoughts +constantly reverted to that handsome young man who was so brave and appeared to +be so much in love. Married at eighteen to M. Bonacieux, having always lived +among her husband’s friends—people little capable of inspiring any +sentiment whatever in a young woman whose heart was above her +position—Mme. Bonacieux had remained insensible to vulgar seductions; but +at this period the title of gentleman had great influence with the citizen +class, and D’Artagnan was a gentleman. Besides, he wore the uniform of the +Guards, which, next to that of the Musketeers, was most admired by the ladies. +He was, we repeat, handsome, young, and bold; he spoke of love like a man who +did love and was anxious to be loved in return. There was certainly enough in +all this to turn a head only twenty-three years old, and Mme. Bonacieux had +just attained that happy period of life. +</p> + +<p> +The couple, then, although they had not seen each other for eight days, and +during that time serious events had taken place in which both were concerned, +accosted each other with a degree of preoccupation. Nevertheless, Bonacieux +manifested real joy, and advanced toward his wife with open arms. Madame +Bonacieux presented her cheek to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us talk a little,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“How!” said Bonacieux, astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have something of the highest importance to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” said he, “and I have some questions sufficiently serious to put to you. +Describe to me your abduction, I pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s of no consequence just now,” said Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“And what does it concern, then—my captivity?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard of it the day it happened; but as you were not guilty of any crime, as +you were not guilty of any intrigue, as you, in short, knew nothing that could +compromise yourself or anybody else, I attached no more importance to that +event than it merited.” +</p> + +<p> +“You speak very much at your ease, madame,” said Bonacieux, hurt at the little +interest his wife showed in him. “Do you know that I was plunged during a day +and night in a dungeon of the Bastille?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a day and night soon pass away. Let us return to the object that brings me +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, that which brings you home to me? Is it not the desire of seeing a +husband again from whom you have been separated for a week?” asked the mercer, +piqued to the quick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that first, and other things afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a thing of the highest interest, and upon which our future fortune +perhaps depends.” +</p> + +<p> +“The complexion of our fortune has changed very much since I saw you, Madame +Bonacieux, and I should not be astonished if in the course of a few months it +were to excite the envy of many folks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, particularly if you follow the instructions I am about to give you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you. There is good and holy action to be performed, monsieur, and much +money to be gained at the same time.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux knew that in talking of money to her husband, she took him on +his weak side. But a man, were he even a mercer, when he had talked for ten +minutes with Cardinal Richelieu, is no longer the same man. +</p> + +<p> +“Much money to be gained?” said Bonacieux, protruding his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, much.” +</p> + +<p> +“About how much?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand pistoles, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you demand of me is serious, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What must be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must go away immediately. I will give you a paper which you must not part +with on any account, and which you will deliver into the proper hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“And whither am I to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To London.” +</p> + +<p> +“I go to London? Go to! You jest! I have no business in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“But others wish that you should go there.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who are those others? I warn you that I will never again work in the dark, +and that I will know not only to what I expose myself, but for whom I expose +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“An illustrious person sends you; an illustrious person awaits you. The +recompense will exceed your expectations; that is all I promise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“More intrigues! Nothing but intrigues! Thank you, madame, I am aware of them +now; Monsieur Cardinal has enlightened me on that head.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal?” cried Mme. Bonacieux. “Have you seen the cardinal?” +</p> + +<p> +“He sent for me,” answered the mercer, proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“And you responded to his bidding, you imprudent man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can’t say I had much choice of going or not going, for I was taken to +him between two guards. It is true also, that as I did not then know his +Eminence, if I had been able to dispense with the visit, I should have been +enchanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“He ill-treated you, then; he threatened you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He gave me his hand, and called me his friend. His friend! Do you hear that, +madame? I am the friend of the great cardinal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the great cardinal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you would contest his right to that title, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would contest nothing; but I tell you that the favor of a minister is +ephemeral, and that a man must be mad to attach himself to a minister. There +are powers above his which do not depend upon a man or the issue of an event; +it is to these powers we should rally.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry for it, madame, but I acknowledge no other power but that of the +great man whom I have the honor to serve.” +</p> + +<p> +“You serve the cardinal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; and as his servant, I will not allow you to be concerned in plots +against the safety of the state, or to serve the intrigues of a woman who is +not French and who has a Spanish heart. Fortunately we have the great cardinal; +his vigilant eye watches over and penetrates to the bottom of the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux was repeating, word for word, a sentence which he had heard from the +Comte de Rochefort; but the poor wife, who had reckoned on her husband, and +who, in that hope, had answered for him to the queen, did not tremble the less, +both at the danger into which she had nearly cast herself and at the helpless +state to which she was reduced. Nevertheless, knowing the weakness of her +husband, and more particularly his cupidity, she did not despair of bringing +him round to her purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are a cardinalist, then, monsieur, are you?” cried she; “and you serve +the party of those who maltreat your wife and insult your queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Private interests are as nothing before the interests of all. I am for those +who save the state,” said Bonacieux, emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you know about the state you talk of?” said Mme. Bonacieux, +shrugging her shoulders. “Be satisfied with being a plain, straightforward +citizen, and turn to that side which offers the most advantages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, eh!” said Bonacieux, slapping a plump, round bag, which returned a sound +of money; “what do you think of this, Madame Preacher?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whence comes that money?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not guess?” +</p> + +<p> +“From the cardinal?” +</p> + +<p> +“From him, and from my friend the Comte de Rochefort.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Comte de Rochefort! Why, it was he who carried me off!” +</p> + +<p> +“That may be, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“And you receive silver from that man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not said that that abduction was entirely political?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but that abduction had for its object the betrayal of my mistress, to +draw from me by torture confessions that might compromise the honor, and +perhaps the life, of my august mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied Bonacieux, “your august mistress is a perfidious Spaniard, +and what the cardinal does is well done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the young woman, “I know you to be cowardly, avaricious, and +foolish, but I never till now believed you infamous!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said Bonacieux, who had never seen his wife in a passion, and who +recoiled before this conjugal anger, “madame, what do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say you are a miserable creature!” continued Mme. Bonacieux, who saw she was +regaining some little influence over her husband. “You meddle with politics, do +you—and still more, with cardinalist politics? Why, you sell yourself, +body and soul, to the demon, the devil, for money!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, to the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the same thing,” cried the young woman. “Who calls Richelieu calls +Satan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, hold your tongue, madame! You may be overheard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right; I should be ashamed for anyone to know your baseness.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what do you require of me, then? Let us see.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you. You must depart instantly, monsieur. You must accomplish +loyally the commission with which I deign to charge you, and on that condition +I pardon everything, I forget everything; and what is more,” and she held out +her hand to him, “I restore my love.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux was cowardly and avaricious, but he loved his wife. He was softened. +A man of fifty cannot long bear malice with a wife of twenty-three. Mme. +Bonacieux saw that he hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Come! Have you decided?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear love, reflect a little upon what you require of me. London is far +from Paris, very far, and perhaps the commission with which you charge me is +not without dangers?” +</p> + +<p> +“What matters it, if you avoid them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold, Madame Bonacieux,” said the mercer, “hold! I positively refuse; +intrigues terrify me. I have seen the Bastille. My! Whew! That’s a frightful +place, that Bastille! Only to think of it makes my flesh crawl. They threatened +me with torture. Do you know what torture is? Wooden points that they stick in +between your legs till your bones stick out! No, positively I will not go. And, +<i>morbleu</i>, why do you not go yourself? For in truth, I think I have +hitherto been deceived in you. I really believe you are a man, and a violent +one, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, you are a woman—a miserable woman, stupid and brutal. You are +afraid, are you? Well, if you do not go this very instant, I will have you +arrested by the queen’s orders, and I will have you placed in the Bastille +which you dread so much.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux fell into a profound reflection. He weighed the two angers in his +brain—that of the cardinal and that of the queen; that of the cardinal +predominated enormously. +</p> + +<p> +“Have me arrested on the part of the queen,” said he, “and I—I will +appeal to his Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +At once Mme. Bonacieux saw that she had gone too far, and she was terrified at +having communicated so much. She for a moment contemplated with fright that +stupid countenance, impressed with the invincible resolution of a fool that is +overcome by fear. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, be it so!” said she. “Perhaps, when all is considered, you are right. In +the long run, a man knows more about politics than a woman, particularly such +as, like you, Monsieur Bonacieux, have conversed with the cardinal. And yet it +is very hard,” added she, “that a man upon whose affection I thought I might +depend, treats me thus unkindly and will not comply with any of my fancies.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is because your fancies go too far,” replied the triumphant Bonacieux, +“and I mistrust them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will give it up, then,” said the young woman, sighing. “It is well as +it is; say no more about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least you should tell me what I should have to do in London,” replied +Bonacieux, who remembered a little too late that Rochefort had desired him to +endeavor to obtain his wife’s secrets. +</p> + +<p> +“It is of no use for you to know anything about it,” said the young woman, whom +an instinctive mistrust now impelled to draw back. “It was about one of those +purchases that interest women—a purchase by which much might have been +gained.” +</p> + +<p> +But the more the young woman excused herself, the more important Bonacieux +thought the secret which she declined to confide to him. He resolved then to +hasten immediately to the residence of the Comte de Rochefort, and tell him +that the queen was seeking for a messenger to send to London. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me for quitting you, my dear Madame Bonacieux,” said he; “but, not +knowing you would come to see me, I had made an engagement with a friend. I +shall soon return; and if you will wait only a few minutes for me, as soon as I +have concluded my business with that friend, as it is growing late, I will come +back and reconduct you to the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, monsieur, you are not brave enough to be of any use to me +whatever,” replied Mme. Bonacieux. “I shall return very safely to the Louvre +all alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you please, Madame Bonacieux,” said the ex-mercer. “Shall I see you again +soon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Next week I hope my duties will afford me a little liberty, and I will take +advantage of it to come and put things in order here, as they must necessarily +be much deranged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; I shall expect you. You are not angry with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till then, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Till then.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux kissed his wife’s hand, and set off at a quick pace. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Mme. Bonacieux, when her husband had shut the street door and she +found herself alone; “that imbecile lacked but one thing: to become a +cardinalist. And I, who have answered for him to the queen—I, who have +promised my poor mistress—ah, my God, my God! She will take me for one of +those wretches with whom the palace swarms and who are placed about her as +spies! Ah, Monsieur Bonacieux, I never did love you much, but now it is worse +than ever. I hate you, and on my word you shall pay for this!” +</p> + +<p> +At the moment she spoke these words a rap on the ceiling made her raise her +head, and a voice which reached her through the ceiling cried, “Dear Madame +Bonacieux, open for me the little door on the alley, and I will come down to +you.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>Chapter XVIII.<br/> +LOVER AND HUSBAND</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">h, Madam</span>e,” said D’Artagnan, entering by the door which +the young woman opened for him, “allow me to tell you that you have a bad sort +of a husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have, then, overheard our conversation?” asked Mme. Bonacieux, eagerly, +and looking at D’Artagnan with disquiet. +</p> + +<p> +“The whole.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how, my God?” +</p> + +<p> +“By a mode of proceeding known to myself, and by which I likewise overheard the +more animated conversation which he had with the cardinal’s police.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you understand by what we said?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand things. In the first place, that, unfortunately, your husband is a +simpleton and a fool; in the next place, you are in trouble, of which I am very +glad, as it gives me an opportunity of placing myself at your service, and God +knows I am ready to throw myself into the fire for you; finally, that the queen +wants a brave, intelligent, devoted man to make a journey to London for her. I +have at least two of the three qualities you stand in need of, and here I am.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux made no reply; but her heart beat with joy and secret hope shone +in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“And what guarantee will you give me,” asked she, “if I consent to confide this +message to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“My love for you. Speak! Command! What is to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, my God!” murmured the young woman, “ought I to confide such a secret +to you, monsieur? You are almost a boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see that you require someone to answer for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I admit that would reassure me greatly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Who are these gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three of the king’s Musketeers. Do you know Monsieur de Tréville, their +captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, him! I know him; not personally, but from having heard the queen +speak of him more than once as a brave and loyal gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not fear lest he should betray you to the cardinal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, certainly not!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, reveal your secret to him, and ask him whether, however important, +however valuable, however terrible it may be, you may not confide it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this secret is not mine, and I cannot reveal it in this manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were about to confide it to Monsieur Bonacieux,” said D’Artagnan, with +chagrin. +</p> + +<p> +“As one confides a letter to the hollow of a tree, to the wing of a pigeon, to +the collar of a dog.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, me—you see plainly that I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am an honorable man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a gallant fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am brave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am sure of that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, put me to the proof.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux looked at the young man, restrained for a minute by a last +hesitation; but there was such an ardor in his eyes, such persuasion in his +voice, that she felt herself constrained to confide in him. Besides, she found +herself in circumstances where everything must be risked for the sake of +everything. The queen might be as much injured by too much reticence as by too +much confidence; and—let us admit it—the involuntary sentiment +which she felt for her young protector decided her to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said she; “I yield to your protestations, I yield to your assurances. +But I swear to you, before God who hears us, that if you betray me, and my +enemies pardon me, I will kill myself, while accusing you of my death.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I—I swear to you before God, madame,” said D’Artagnan, “that if I am +taken while accomplishing the orders you give me, I will die sooner than do +anything that may compromise anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the young woman confided in him the terrible secret of which chance had +already communicated to him a part in front of the Samaritaine. This was their +mutual declaration of love. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was radiant with joy and pride. This secret which he possessed, this +woman whom he loved! Confidence and love made him a giant. +</p> + +<p> +“I go,” said he; “I go at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, you will go!” said Mme. Bonacieux; “and your regiment, your captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“By my soul, you had made me forget all that, dear Constance! Yes, you are +right; a furlough is needful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still another obstacle,” murmured Mme. Bonacieux, sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“As to that,” cried D’Artagnan, after a moment of reflection, “I shall surmount +it, be assured.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go this very evening to Tréville, whom I will request to ask this favor +for me of his brother-in-law, Monsieur Dessessart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But another thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked D’Artagnan, seeing that Mme. Bonacieux hesitated to continue. +</p> + +<p> +“You have, perhaps, no money?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Perhaps</i> is too much,” said D’Artagnan, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” replied Mme. Bonacieux, opening a cupboard and taking from it the very +bag which a half hour before her husband had caressed so affectionately, “take +this bag.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal’s?” cried D’Artagnan, breaking into a loud laugh, he having +heard, as may be remembered, thanks to the broken boards, every syllable of the +conversation between the mercer and his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal’s,” replied Mme. Bonacieux. “You see it makes a very respectable +appearance.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu</i>,” cried D’Artagnan, “it will be a double amusing affair to save +the queen with the cardinal’s money!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are an amiable and charming young man,” said Mme. Bonacieux. “Be assured +you will not find her Majesty ungrateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am already grandly recompensed!” cried D’Artagnan. “I love you; you +permit me to tell you that I do—that is already more happiness than I +dared to hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said Mme. Bonacieux, starting. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“Someone is talking in the street.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the voice of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Of my husband! Yes, I recognize it!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan ran to the door and pushed the bolt. +</p> + +<p> +“He shall not come in before I am gone,” said he; “and when I am gone, you can +open to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I ought to be gone, too. And the disappearance of his money; how am I to +justify it if I am here?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right; we must go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go out? How? He will see us if we go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must come up into my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Mme. Bonacieux, “you speak that in a tone that frightens me!” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux pronounced these words with tears in her eyes. D’Artagnan saw +those tears, and much disturbed, softened, he threw himself at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“With me you will be as safe as in a temple; I give you my word of a +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go,” said she, “I place full confidence in you, my friend!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan drew back the bolt with precaution, and both, light as shadows, +glided through the interior door into the passage, ascended the stairs as +quietly as possible, and entered D’Artagnan’s chambers. +</p> + +<p> +Once there, for greater security, the young man barricaded the door. They both +approached the window, and through a slit in the shutter they saw Bonacieux +talking with a man in a cloak. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of this man, D’Artagnan started, and half drawing his sword, sprang +toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +It was the man of Meung. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” cried Mme. Bonacieux; “you will ruin us all!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have sworn to kill that man!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Your life is devoted from this moment, and does not belong to you. In the name +of the queen I forbid you to throw yourself into any peril which is foreign to +that of your journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you command nothing in your own name?” +</p> + +<p> +“In my name,” said Mme. Bonacieux, with great emotion, “in my name I beg you! +But listen; they appear to be speaking of me.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan drew near the window, and lent his ear. +</p> + +<p> +M. Bonacieux had opened his door, and seeing the apartment, had returned to the +man in the cloak, whom he had left alone for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“She is gone,” said he; “she must have returned to the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure,” replied the stranger, “that she did not suspect the intentions +with which you went out?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Bonacieux, with a self-sufficient air, “she is too superficial a +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the young Guardsman at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think he is; as you see, his shutter is closed, and you can see no +light shine through the chinks of the shutters.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, it is well to be certain.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“By knocking at his door. Go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will ask his servant.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux re-entered the house, passed through the same door that had afforded +a passage for the two fugitives, went up to D’Artagnan’s door, and knocked. +</p> + +<p> +No one answered. Porthos, in order to make a greater display, had that evening +borrowed Planchet. As to D’Artagnan, he took care not to give the least sign of +existence. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the hand of Bonacieux sounded on the door, the two young people felt +their hearts bound within them. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nobody within,” said Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. Let us return to your apartment. We shall be safer there than in +the doorway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my God!” whispered Mme. Bonacieux, “we shall hear no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” said D’Artagnan, “we shall hear better.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan raised the three or four boards which made his chamber another ear +of Dionysius, spread a carpet on the floor, went upon his knees, and made a +sign to Mme. Bonacieux to stoop as he did toward the opening. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure there is nobody there?” said the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“I will answer for it,” said Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“And you think that your wife—” +</p> + +<p> +“Has returned to the Louvre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without speaking to anyone but yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is an important point, do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the news I brought you is of value?” +</p> + +<p> +“The greatest, my dear Bonacieux; I don’t conceal this from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the cardinal will be pleased with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The great cardinal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure, in her conversation with you, that your wife mentioned no +names?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not.” +</p> + +<p> +“She did not name Madame de Chevreuse, the Duke of Buckingham, or Madame de +Vernet?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; she only told me she wished to send me to London to serve the interests of +an illustrious personage.” +</p> + +<p> +“The traitor!” murmured Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said D’Artagnan, taking her hand, which, without thinking of it, she +abandoned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” continued the man in the cloak; “you were a fool not to have +pretended to accept the mission. You would then be in present possession of the +letter. The state, which is now threatened, would be safe, and you—” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well you—the cardinal would have given you letters of nobility.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he tell you so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know that he meant to afford you that agreeable surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied,” replied Bonacieux; “my wife adores me, and there is yet time.” +</p> + +<p> +“The ninny!” murmured Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said D’Artagnan, pressing her hand more closely. +</p> + +<p> +“How is there still time?” asked the man in the cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“I go to the Louvre; I ask for Mme. Bonacieux; I say that I have reflected; I +renew the affair; I obtain the letter, and I run directly to the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go quickly! I will return soon to learn the result of your trip.” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Infamous!” said Mme. Bonacieux, addressing this epithet to her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said D’Artagnan, pressing her hand still more warmly. +</p> + +<p> +A terrible howling interrupted these reflections of D’Artagnan and Mme. +Bonacieux. It was her husband, who had discovered the disappearance of the +moneybag, and was crying “Thieves!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, “he will rouse the whole quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux called a long time; but as such cries, on account of their frequency, +brought nobody in the Rue des Fossoyeurs, and as lately the mercer’s house had +a bad name, finding that nobody came, he went out continuing to call, his voice +being heard fainter and fainter as he went in the direction of the Rue du Bac. +</p> + +<p> +“Now he is gone, it is your turn to get out,” said Mme. Bonacieux. “Courage, my +friend, but above all, prudence, and think what you owe to the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“To her and to you!” cried D’Artagnan. “Be satisfied, beautiful Constance. I +shall become worthy of her gratitude; but shall I likewise return worthy of +your love?” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman only replied by the beautiful glow which mounted to her cheeks. +A few seconds afterward D’Artagnan also went out enveloped in a large cloak, +which ill-concealed the sheath of a long sword. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux followed him with her eyes, with that long, fond look with which +he had turned the angle of the street, she fell on her knees, and clasping her +hands, “Oh, my God,” cried she, “protect the queen, protect me!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>Chapter XIX.<br/> +PLAN OF CAMPAIGN</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> went straight to M. de Tréville’s. He had +reflected that in a few minutes the cardinal would be warned by this cursed +stranger, who appeared to be his agent, and he judged, with reason, he had not +a moment to lose. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the young man overflowed with joy. An opportunity presented itself +to him in which there would be at the same time glory to be acquired, and money +to be gained; and as a far higher encouragement, it brought him into close +intimacy with a woman he adored. This chance did, then, for him at once more +than he would have dared to ask of Providence. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville was in his saloon with his habitual court of gentlemen. +D’Artagnan, who was known as a familiar of the house, went straight to his +office, and sent word that he wished to see him on something of importance. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had been there scarcely five minutes when M. de Tréville entered. At +the first glance, and by the joy which was painted on his countenance, the +worthy captain plainly perceived that something new was on foot. +</p> + +<p> +All the way along D’Artagnan had been consulting with himself whether he should +place confidence in M. de Tréville, or whether he should only ask him to give +him <i>carte blanche</i> for some secret affair. But M. de Tréville had always +been so thoroughly his friend, had always been so devoted to the king and +queen, and hated the cardinal so cordially, that the young man resolved to tell +him everything. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ask for me, my good friend?” said M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, lowering his voice, “and you will pardon me, +I hope, for having disturbed you when you know the importance of my business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, then, I am all attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“It concerns nothing less,” said D’Artagnan, “than the honor, perhaps the life +of the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say?” asked M. de Tréville, glancing round to see if they were +surely alone, and then fixing his questioning look upon D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, monsieur, that chance has rendered me master of a secret—” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you will guard, I hope, young man, as your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But which I must impart to you, monsieur, for you alone can assist me in the +mission I have just received from her Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this secret your own?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur; it is her Majesty’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you authorized by her Majesty to communicate it to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, for, on the contrary, I am desired to preserve the profoundest +mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then, are you about to betray it to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, as I said, without you I can do nothing; and I am afraid you will +refuse me the favor I come to ask if you do not know to what end I ask it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your secret, young man, and tell me what you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you to obtain for me, from Monsieur Dessessart, leave of absence for +fifteen days.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“This very night.” +</p> + +<p> +“You leave Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going on a mission.” +</p> + +<p> +“May you tell me whither?” +</p> + +<p> +“To London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has anyone an interest in preventing your arrival there?” +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal, I believe, would give the world to prevent my success.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are going alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case you will not get beyond Bondy. I tell you so, by the faith of de +Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be assassinated.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I shall die in the performance of my duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your mission will not be accomplished.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” replied D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me,” continued Tréville, “in enterprises of this kind, in order that +one may arrive, four must set out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are right, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan; “but you know Athos, Porthos, +and Aramis, and you know if I can dispose of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without confiding to them the secret which I am not willing to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are sworn, once for all, to implicit confidence and devotedness against all +proof. Besides, you can tell them that you have full confidence in me, and they +will not be more incredulous than you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can send to each of them leave of absence for fifteen days, that is +all—to Athos, whose wound still makes him suffer, to go to the waters of +Forges; to Porthos and Aramis to accompany their friend, whom they are not +willing to abandon in such a painful condition. Sending their leave of absence +will be proof enough that I authorize their journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, monsieur. You are a hundred times too good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Begone, then, find them instantly, and let all be done tonight! Ha! But first +write your request to Dessessart. Perhaps you had a spy at your heels; and your +visit, if it should ever be known to the cardinal, will thus seem legitimate.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan drew up his request, and M. de Tréville, on receiving it, assured +him that by two o’clock in the morning the four leaves of absence should be at +the respective domiciles of the travelers. +</p> + +<p> +“Have the goodness to send mine to Athos’s residence. I should dread some +disagreeable encounter if I were to go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be easy. Adieu, and a prosperous voyage. <i>A propos</i>,” said M. de +Tréville, calling him back. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any money?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan tapped the bag he had in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough?” asked M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“Three hundred pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, plenty! That would carry you to the end of the world. Begone, then!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan saluted M. de Tréville, who held out his hand to him; D’Artagnan +pressed it with a respect mixed with gratitude. Since his first arrival at +Paris, he had had constant occasion to honor this excellent man, whom he had +always found worthy, loyal, and great. +</p> + +<p> +His first visit was to Aramis, at whose residence he had not been since the +famous evening on which he had followed Mme. Bonacieux. Still further, he had +seldom seen the young Musketeer; but every time he had seen him, he had +remarked a deep sadness imprinted on his countenance. +</p> + +<p> +This evening, especially, Aramis was melancholy and thoughtful. D’Artagnan +asked some questions about this prolonged melancholy. Aramis pleaded as his +excuse a commentary upon the eighteenth chapter of St. Augustine, which he was +forced to write in Latin for the following week, and which preoccupied him a +good deal. +</p> + +<p> +After the two friends had been chatting a few moments, a servant from M. de +Tréville entered, bringing a sealed packet. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“The leave of absence Monsieur has asked for,” replied the lackey. +</p> + +<p> +“For me! I have asked for no leave of absence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue and take it!” said D’Artagnan. “And you, my friend, there is +a demipistole for your trouble; you will tell Monsieur de Tréville that +Monsieur Aramis is very much obliged to him. Go.” +</p> + +<p> +The lackey bowed to the ground and departed. +</p> + +<p> +“What does all this mean?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Pack up all you want for a journey of a fortnight, and follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I cannot leave Paris just now without knowing—” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“What is become of her? I suppose you mean—” continued D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Become of whom?” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“The woman who was here—the woman with the embroidered handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you there was a woman here?” replied Aramis, becoming as pale as +death. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you know who she is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I can guess, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen!” said Aramis. “Since you appear to know so many things, can you tell +me what is become of that woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I presume that she has returned to Tours.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Tours? Yes, that may be. You evidently know her. But why did she return to +Tours without telling me anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she was in fear of being arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why has she not written to me, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she was afraid of compromising you.” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, you restore me to life!” cried Aramis. “I fancied myself despised, +betrayed. I was so delighted to see her again! I could not have believed she +would risk her liberty for me, and yet for what other cause could she have +returned to Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the cause which today takes us to England.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is this cause?” demanded Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’ll know it someday, Aramis; but at present I must imitate the +discretion of ‘the doctor’s niece.’” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis smiled, as he remembered the tale he had told his friends on a certain +evening. “Well, then, since she has left Paris, and you are sure of it, +D’Artagnan, nothing prevents me, and I am ready to follow you. You say we are +going—” +</p> + +<p> +“To see Athos now, and if you will come thither, I beg you to make haste, for +we have lost much time already. <i>A propos</i>, inform Bazin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will Bazin go with us?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so. At all events, it is best that he should follow us to Athos’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis called Bazin, and, after having ordered him to join them at Athos’s +residence, said “Let us go then,” at the same time taking his cloak, sword, and +three pistols, opening uselessly two or three drawers to see if he could not +find stray coin. When well assured this search was superfluous, he followed +D’Artagnan, wondering to himself how this young Guardsman should know so well +who the lady was to whom he had given hospitality, and that he should know +better than himself what had become of her. +</p> + +<p> +Only as they went out Aramis placed his hand upon the arm of D’Artagnan, and +looking at him earnestly, “You have not spoken of this lady?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“To nobody in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even to Athos or Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not breathed a syllable to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good enough!” +</p> + +<p> +Tranquil on this important point, Aramis continued his way with D’Artagnan, and +both soon arrived at Athos’s dwelling. They found him holding his leave of +absence in one hand, and M. de Tréville’s note in the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you explain to me what signify this leave of absence and this letter, +which I have just received?” said the astonished Athos. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y DEAR</small> A<small>THOS</small>,<br/> + I wish, as your health absolutely requires it, that you should rest for a +fortnight. Go, then, and take the waters of Forges, or any that may be more +agreeable to you, and recuperate yourself as quickly as possible. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours affectionate,<br /> +D<small>E</small> T<small>RÉVILLE</small> +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this leave of absence and that letter mean that you must follow me, +Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the waters of Forges?” +</p> + +<p> +“There or elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the king’s service?” +</p> + +<p> +“Either the king’s or the queen’s. Are we not their Majesties’ servants?” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Porthos entered. “<i>Pardieu!</i>” said he, “here is a strange +thing! Since when, I wonder, in the Musketeers, did they grant men leave of +absence without their asking for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Since,” said D’Artagnan, “they have friends who ask it for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Porthos, “it appears there’s something fresh here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we are going—” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“To what country?” demanded Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith! I don’t know much about it,” said Athos. “Ask D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“To London, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“To London!” cried Porthos; “and what the devil are we going to do in London?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I am not at liberty to tell you, gentlemen; you must trust to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But in order to go to London,” added Porthos, “money is needed, and I have +none.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” replied D’Artagnan, pulling out his treasure from his pocket, and +placing it on the table. “There are in this bag three hundred pistoles. Let +each take seventy-five; that is enough to take us to London and back. Besides, +make yourselves easy; we shall not all arrive at London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, in all probability, some one of us will be left on the road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this, then, a campaign upon which we are now entering?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of a most dangerous kind, I give you notice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! But if we do risk being killed,” said Porthos, “at least I should like to +know what for.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would be all the wiser,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” said Aramis, “I am somewhat of Porthos’s opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the king accustomed to give you such reasons? No. He says to you jauntily, +‘Gentlemen, there is fighting going on in Gascony or in Flanders; go and +fight,’ and you go there. Why? You need give yourselves no more uneasiness +about this.” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan is right,” said Athos; “here are our three leaves of absence which +came from Monsieur de Tréville, and here are three hundred pistoles which came +from I don’t know where. So let us go and get killed where we are told to go. +Is life worth the trouble of so many questions? D’Artagnan, I am ready to +follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I also,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“And I also,” said Aramis. “And, indeed, I am not sorry to quit Paris; I had +need of distraction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will have distractions enough, gentlemen, be assured,” said +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And, now, when are we to go?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately,” replied D’Artagnan; “we have not a minute to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Grimaud! Planchet! Mousqueton! Bazin!” cried the four young men, +calling their lackeys, “clean my boots, and fetch the horses from the hôtel.” +</p> + +<p> +Each Musketeer was accustomed to leave at the general hôtel, as at a barrack, +his own horse and that of his lackey. Planchet, Grimaud, Mousqueton, and Bazin +set off at full speed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let us lay down the plan of campaign,” said Porthos. “Where do we go +first?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Calais,” said D’Artagnan; “that is the most direct line to London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “this is my advice—” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“Four men traveling together would be suspected. D’Artagnan will give each of +us his instructions. I will go by the way of Boulogne to clear the way; Athos +will set out two hours after, by that of Amiens; Aramis will follow us by that +of Noyon; as to D’Artagnan, he will go by what route he thinks is best, in +Planchet’s clothes, while Planchet will follow us like D’Artagnan, in the +uniform of the Guards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “my opinion is that it is not proper to allow lackeys +to have anything to do in such an affair. A secret may, by chance, be betrayed +by gentlemen; but it is almost always sold by lackeys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos’s plan appears to me to be impracticable,” said D’Artagnan, “inasmuch +as I am myself ignorant of what instructions I can give you. I am the bearer of +a letter, that is all. I have not, and I cannot make three copies of that +letter, because it is sealed. We must, then, as it appears to me, travel in +company. This letter is here, in this pocket,” and he pointed to the pocket +which contained the letter. “If I should be killed, one of you must take it, +and continue the route; if he be killed, it will be another’s turn, and so +on—provided a single one arrives, that is all that is required.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, D’Artagnan, your opinion is mine,” cried Athos, “Besides, we must be +consistent; I am going to take the waters, you will accompany me. Instead of +taking the waters of Forges, I go and take sea waters; I am free to do so. If +anyone wishes to stop us, I will show Monsieur de Tréville’s letter, and you +will show your leaves of absence. If we are attacked, we will defend ourselves; +if we are tried, we will stoutly maintain that we were only anxious to dip +ourselves a certain number of times in the sea. They would have an easy bargain +of four isolated men; whereas four men together make a troop. We will arm our +four lackeys with pistols and musketoons; if they send an army out against us, +we will give battle, and the survivor, as D’Artagnan says, will carry the +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well said,” cried Aramis; “you don’t often speak, Athos, but when you do +speak, it is like St. John of the Golden Mouth. I agree to Athos’s plan. And +you, Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree to it, too,” said Porthos, “if D’Artagnan approves of it. D’Artagnan, +being the bearer of the letter, is naturally the head of the enterprise; let +him decide, and we will execute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said D’Artagnan, “I decide that we should adopt Athos’s plan, and that +we set off in half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed!” shouted the three Musketeers in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +Each one, stretching out his hand to the bag, took his seventy-five pistoles, +and made his preparations to set out at the time appointed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>Chapter XX.<br/> +THE JOURNEY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> two o’clock in the morning, our four adventurers left +Paris by the Barrière St. Denis. As long as it was dark they remained silent; +in spite of themselves they submitted to the influence of the obscurity, and +apprehended ambushes on every side. +</p> + +<p> +With the first rays of day their tongues were loosened; with the sun gaiety +revived. It was like the eve of a battle; the heart beat, the eyes laughed, and +they felt that the life they were perhaps going to lose, was, after all, a good +thing. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, the appearance of the caravan was formidable. The black horses of the +Musketeers, their martial carriage, with the regimental step of these noble +companions of the soldier, would have betrayed the most strict incognito. The +lackeys followed, armed to the teeth. +</p> + +<p> +All went well till they arrived at Chantilly, which they reached about eight +o’clock in the morning. They needed breakfast, and alighted at the door of an +<i>auberge</i>, recommended by a sign representing St. Martin giving half his +cloak to a poor man. They ordered the lackeys not to unsaddle the horses, and +to hold themselves in readiness to set off again immediately. +</p> + +<p> +They entered the common hall, and placed themselves at table. A gentleman, who +had just arrived by the route of Dammartin, was seated at the same table, and +was breakfasting. He opened the conversation about rain and fine weather; the +travelers replied. He drank to their good health, and the travelers returned +his politeness. +</p> + +<p> +But at the moment Mousqueton came to announce that the horses were ready, and +they were arising from table, the stranger proposed to Porthos to drink the +health of the cardinal. Porthos replied that he asked no better if the +stranger, in his turn, would drink the health of the king. The stranger cried +that he acknowledged no other king but his Eminence. Porthos called him drunk, +and the stranger drew his sword. +</p> + +<p> +“You have committed a piece of folly,” said Athos, “but it can’t be helped; +there is no drawing back. Kill the fellow, and rejoin us as soon as you can.” +</p> + +<p> +All three remounted their horses, and set out at a good pace, while Porthos was +promising his adversary to perforate him with all the thrusts known in the +fencing schools. +</p> + +<p> +“There goes one!” cried Athos, at the end of five hundred paces. +</p> + +<p> +“But why did that man attack Porthos rather than any other one of us?” asked +Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, as Porthos was talking louder than the rest of us, he took him for +the chief,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I always said that this cadet from Gascony was a well of wisdom,” murmured +Athos; and the travelers continued their route. +</p> + +<p> +At Beauvais they stopped two hours, as well to breathe their horses a little as +to wait for Porthos. At the end of two hours, as Porthos did not come, not any +news of him, they resumed their journey. +</p> + +<p> +At a league from Beauvais, where the road was confined between two high banks, +they fell in with eight or ten men who, taking advantage of the road being +unpaved in this spot, appeared to be employed in digging holes and filling up +the ruts with mud. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, not liking to soil his boots with this artificial mortar, apostrophized +them rather sharply. Athos wished to restrain him, but it was too late. The +laborers began to jeer the travelers and by their insolence disturbed the +equanimity even of the cool Athos, who urged on his horse against one of them. +</p> + +<p> +Then each of these men retreated as far as the ditch, from which each took a +concealed musket; the result was that our seven travelers were outnumbered in +weapons. Aramis received a ball which passed through his shoulder, and +Mousqueton another ball which lodged in the fleshy part which prolongs the +lower portion of the loins. Therefore Mousqueton alone fell from his horse, not +because he was severely wounded, but not being able to see the wound, he judged +it to be more serious than it really was. +</p> + +<p> +“It was an ambuscade!” shouted D’Artagnan. “Don’t waste a charge! Forward!” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, wounded as he was, seized the mane of his horse, which carried him on +with the others. Mousqueton’s horse rejoined them, and galloped by the side of +his companions. +</p> + +<p> +“That will serve us for a relay,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I would rather have had a hat,” said D’Artagnan. “Mine was carried away by a +ball. By my faith, it is very fortunate that the letter was not in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll kill poor Porthos when he comes up,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“If Porthos were on his legs, he would have rejoined us by this time,” said +Athos. “My opinion is that on the ground the drunken man was not intoxicated.” +</p> + +<p> +They continued at their best speed for two hours, although the horses were so +fatigued that it was to be feared they would soon refuse service. +</p> + +<p> +The travelers had chosen crossroads in the hope that they might meet with less +interruption; but at Crèvecœur, Aramis declared he could proceed no farther. +In fact, it required all the courage which he concealed beneath his elegant +form and polished manners to bear him so far. He grew more pale every minute, +and they were obliged to support him on his horse. They lifted him off at the +door of a cabaret, left Bazin with him, who, besides, in a skirmish was more +embarrassing than useful, and set forward again in the hope of sleeping at +Amiens. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Morbleu</i>,” said Athos, as soon as they were again in motion, “reduced to +two masters and Grimaud and Planchet! <i>Morbleu!</i> I won’t be their dupe, I +will answer for it. I will neither open my mouth nor draw my sword between this +and Calais. I swear by—” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t waste time in swearing,” said D’Artagnan; “let us gallop, if our horses +will consent.” +</p> + +<p> +And the travelers buried their rowels in their horses’ flanks, who thus +vigorously stimulated recovered their energies. They arrived at Amiens at +midnight, and alighted at the <i>auberge</i> of the Golden Lily. +</p> + +<p> +The host had the appearance of as honest a man as any on earth. He received the +travelers with his candlestick in one hand and his cotton nightcap in the +other. He wished to lodge the two travelers each in a charming chamber; but +unfortunately these charming chambers were at the opposite extremities of the +hôtel. D’Artagnan and Athos refused them. The host replied that he had no other +worthy of their Excellencies; but the travelers declared they would sleep in +the common chamber, each on a mattress which might be thrown upon the ground. +The host insisted; but the travelers were firm, and he was obliged to do as +they wished. +</p> + +<p> +They had just prepared their beds and barricaded their door within, when +someone knocked at the yard shutter; they demanded who was there, and +recognizing the voices of their lackeys, opened the shutter. It was indeed +Planchet and Grimaud. +</p> + +<p> +“Grimaud can take care of the horses,” said Planchet. “If you are willing, +gentlemen, I will sleep across your doorway, and you will then be certain that +nobody can reach you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on what will you sleep?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is my bed,” replied Planchet, producing a bundle of straw. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then,” said D’Artagnan, “you are right. Mine host’s face does not please +me at all; it is too gracious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor me either,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet mounted by the window and installed himself across the doorway, while +Grimaud went and shut himself up in the stable, undertaking that by five +o’clock in the morning he and the four horses should be ready. +</p> + +<p> +The night was quiet enough. Toward two o’clock in the morning somebody +endeavored to open the door; but as Planchet awoke in an instant and cried, +“Who goes there?” somebody replied that he was mistaken, and went away. +</p> + +<p> +At four o’clock in the morning they heard a terrible riot in the stables. +Grimaud had tried to waken the stable boys, and the stable boys had beaten him. +When they opened the window, they saw the poor lad lying senseless, with his +head split by a blow with a pitchfork. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet went down into the yard, and wished to saddle the horses; but the +horses were all used up. Mousqueton’s horse which had traveled for five or six +hours without a rider the day before, might have been able to pursue the +journey; but by an inconceivable error the veterinary surgeon, who had been +sent for, as it appeared, to bleed one of the host’s horses, had bled +Mousqueton’s. +</p> + +<p> +This began to be annoying. All these successive accidents were perhaps the +result of chance; but they might be the fruits of a plot. Athos and D’Artagnan +went out, while Planchet was sent to inquire if there were not three horses for +sale in the neighborhood. At the door stood two horses, fresh, strong, and +fully equipped. These would just have suited them. He asked where their masters +were, and was informed that they had passed the night in the inn, and were then +settling their bill with the host. +</p> + +<p> +Athos went down to pay the reckoning, while D’Artagnan and Planchet stood at +the street door. The host was in a lower and back room, to which Athos was +requested to go. +</p> + +<p> +Athos entered without the least mistrust, and took out two pistoles to pay the +bill. The host was alone, seated before his desk, one of the drawers of which +was partly open. He took the money which Athos offered to him, and after +turning and turning it over and over in his hands, suddenly cried out that it +was bad, and that he would have him and his companions arrested as forgers. +</p> + +<p> +“You blackguard!” cried Athos, going toward him, “I’ll cut your ears off!” +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant, four men, armed to the teeth, entered by side doors, and +rushed upon Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I am taken!” shouted Athos, with all the power of his lungs. “Go on, +D’Artagnan! Spur, spur!” and he fired two pistols. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan and Planchet did not require twice bidding; they unfastened the two +horses that were waiting at the door, leaped upon them, buried their spurs in +their sides, and set off at full gallop. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what has become of Athos?” asked D’Artagnan of Planchet, as they +galloped on. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur,” said Planchet, “I saw one fall at each of his two shots, and he +appeared to me, through the glass door, to be fighting with his sword with the +others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brave Athos!” murmured D’Artagnan, “and to think that we are compelled to +leave him; maybe the same fate awaits us two paces hence. Forward, Planchet, +forward! You are a brave fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I told you, monsieur,” replied Planchet, “Picards are found out by being +used. Besides, I am here in my own country, and that excites me.” +</p> + +<p> +And both, with free use of the spur, arrived at St. Omer without drawing bit. +At St. Omer they breathed their horses with the bridles passed under their arms +for fear of accident, and ate a morsel from their hands on the stones of the +street, after they departed again. +</p> + +<p> +At a hundred paces from the gates of Calais, D’Artagnan’s horse gave out, and +could not by any means be made to get up again, the blood flowing from his eyes +and his nose. There still remained Planchet’s horse; but he stopped short, and +could not be made to move a step. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, as we have said, they were within a hundred paces of the city; +they left their two nags upon the high road, and ran toward the quay. Planchet +called his master’s attention to a gentleman who had just arrived with his +lackey, and only preceded them by about fifty paces. They made all speed to +come up to this gentleman, who appeared to be in great haste. His boots were +covered with dust, and he inquired if he could not instantly cross over to +England. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing would be more easy,” said the captain of a vessel ready to set sail, +“but this morning came an order to let no one leave without express permission +from the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have that permission,” said the gentleman, drawing the paper from his +pocket; “here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have it examined by the governor of the port,” said the shipmaster, “and give +me the preference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where shall I find the governor?” +</p> + +<p> +“At his country house.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is situated?” +</p> + +<p> +“At a quarter of a league from the city. Look, you may see it from +here—at the foot of that little hill, that slated roof.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the gentleman. And, with his lackey, he took the road to the +governor’s country house. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan and Planchet followed the gentleman at a distance of five hundred +paces. Once outside the city, D’Artagnan overtook the gentleman as he was +entering a little wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you appear to be in great haste?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one can be more so, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry for that,” said D’Artagnan; “for as I am in great haste likewise, I +wish to beg you to render me a service.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“To let me sail first.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s impossible,” said the gentleman; “I have traveled sixty leagues in +forty hours, and by tomorrow at midday I must be in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have performed that same distance in forty hours, and by ten o’clock in the +morning I must be in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very sorry, monsieur; but I was here first, and will not sail second.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry, too, monsieur; but I arrived second, and must sail first.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king’s service!” said the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“My own service!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is a needless quarrel you seek with me, as it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> What do you desire it to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I wish that order of which you are bearer, seeing that I have not +one of my own and must have one.” +</p> + +<p> +“You jest, I presume.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never jest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me pass!” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brave young man, I will blow out your brains. <i>Hola</i>, Lubin, my +pistols!” +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet,” called out D’Artagnan, “take care of the lackey; I will manage the +master.” +</p> + +<p> +Planchet, emboldened by the first exploit, sprang upon Lubin; and being strong +and vigorous, he soon got him on the broad of his back, and placed his knee +upon his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on with your affair, monsieur,” cried Planchet; “I have finished mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing this, the gentleman drew his sword, and sprang upon D’Artagnan; but he +had too strong an adversary. In three seconds D’Artagnan had wounded him three +times, exclaiming at each thrust, “One for Athos, one for Porthos; and one for +Aramis!” +</p> + +<p> +At the third hit the gentleman fell like a log. D’Artagnan believed him to be +dead, or at least insensible, and went toward him for the purpose of taking the +order; but the moment he extended his hand to search for it, the wounded man, +who had not dropped his sword, plunged the point into D’Artagnan’s breast, +crying, “One for you!” +</p> + +<p> +“And one for me—the best for last!” cried D’Artagnan, furious, nailing +him to the earth with a fourth thrust through his body. +</p> + +<p> +This time the gentleman closed his eyes and fainted. D’Artagnan searched his +pockets, and took from one of them the order for the passage. It was in the +name of Comte de Wardes. +</p> + +<p> +Then, casting a glance on the handsome young man, who was scarcely twenty-five +years of age, and whom he was leaving in his gore, deprived of sense and +perhaps dead, he gave a sigh for that unaccountable destiny which leads men to +destroy each other for the interests of people who are strangers to them and +who often do not even know that they exist. But he was soon aroused from these +reflections by Lubin, who uttered loud cries and screamed for help with all his +might. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet grasped him by the throat, and pressed as hard as he could. +“Monsieur,” said he, “as long as I hold him in this manner, he can’t cry, I’ll +be bound; but as soon as I let go he will howl again. I know him for a Norman, +and Normans are obstinate.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, tightly held as he was, Lubin endeavored still to cry out. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay!” said D’Artagnan; and taking out his handkerchief, he gagged him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Planchet, “let us bind him to a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +This being properly done, they drew the Comte de Wardes close to his servant; +and as night was approaching, and as the wounded man and the bound man were at +some little distance within the wood, it was evident they were likely to remain +there till the next day. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said D’Artagnan, “to the Governor’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are wounded, it seems,” said Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s nothing! Let us attend to what is more pressing first, and then we +will attend to my wound; besides, it does not seem very dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +And they both set forward as fast as they could toward the country house of the +worthy functionary. +</p> + +<p> +The Comte de Wardes was announced, and D’Artagnan was introduced. +</p> + +<p> +“You have an order signed by the cardinal?” said the governor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” replied D’Artagnan; “here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! It is quite regular and explicit,” said the governor. +</p> + +<p> +“Most likely,” said D’Artagnan; “I am one of his most faithful servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears that his Eminence is anxious to prevent someone from crossing to +England?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; a certain D’Artagnan, a Béarnese gentleman who left Paris in company with +three of his friends, with the intention of going to London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know him personally?” asked the governor. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“This D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Describe him to me, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing more easy.” +</p> + +<p> +And D’Artagnan gave, feature for feature, a description of the Comte de Wardes. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he accompanied?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; by a lackey named Lubin.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will keep a sharp lookout for them; and if we lay hands on them his +Eminence may be assured they will be reconducted to Paris under a good escort.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by doing so, Monsieur the Governor,” said D’Artagnan, “you will deserve +well of the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you see him on your return, Monsieur Count?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him, I beg you, that I am his humble servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not fail.” +</p> + +<p> +Delighted with this assurance the governor countersigned the passport and +delivered it to D’Artagnan. D’Artagnan lost no time in useless compliments. He +thanked the governor, bowed, and departed. Once outside, he and Planchet set +off as fast as they could; and by making a long detour avoided the wood and +reentered the city by another gate. +</p> + +<p> +The vessel was quite ready to sail, and the captain was waiting on the wharf. +“Well?” said he, on perceiving D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is my pass countersigned,” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“And that other gentleman? +</p> + +<p> +“He will not go today,” said D’Artagnan; “but here, I’ll pay you for us two.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case let us go,” said the shipmaster. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go,” repeated D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +He leaped with Planchet into the boat, and five minutes after they were on +board. It was time; for they had scarcely sailed half a league, when D’Artagnan +saw a flash and heard a detonation. It was the cannon which announced the +closing of the port. +</p> + +<p> +He had now leisure to look to his wound. Fortunately, as D’Artagnan had +thought, it was not dangerous. The point of the sword had touched a rib, and +glanced along the bone. Still further, his shirt had stuck to the wound, and he +had lost only a few drops of blood. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was worn out with fatigue. A mattress was laid upon the deck for +him. He threw himself upon it, and fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, at break of day, they were still three or four leagues from the +coast of England. The breeze had been so light all night, they had made but +little progress. At ten o’clock the vessel cast anchor in the harbor of Dover, +and at half past ten D’Artagnan placed his foot on English land, crying, “Here +I am at last!” +</p> + +<p> +But that was not all; they must get to London. In England the post was well +served. D’Artagnan and Planchet took each a post horse, and a postillion rode +before them. In a few hours they were in the capital. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan did not know London; he did not know a word of English; but he wrote +the name of Buckingham on a piece of paper, and everyone pointed out to him the +way to the duke’s hôtel. +</p> + +<p> +The duke was at Windsor hunting with the king. D’Artagnan inquired for the +confidential valet of the duke, who, having accompanied him in all his voyages, +spoke French perfectly well; he told him that he came from Paris on an affair +of life and death, and that he must speak with his master instantly. +</p> + +<p> +The confidence with which D’Artagnan spoke convinced Patrick, which was the +name of this minister of the minister. He ordered two horses to be saddled, and +himself went as guide to the young Guardsman. As for Planchet, he had been +lifted from his horse as stiff as a rush; the poor lad’s strength was almost +exhausted. D’Artagnan seemed iron. +</p> + +<p> +On their arrival at the castle they learned that Buckingham and the king were +hawking in the marshes two or three leagues away. In twenty minutes they were +on the spot named. Patrick soon caught the sound of his master’s voice calling +his falcon. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom must I announce to my Lord Duke?” asked Patrick. +</p> + +<p> +“The young man who one evening sought a quarrel with him on the Pont Neuf, +opposite the Samaritaine.” +</p> + +<p> +“A singular introduction!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will find that it is as good as another.” +</p> + +<p> +Patrick galloped off, reached the duke, and announced to him in the terms +directed that a messenger awaited him. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham at once remembered the circumstance, and suspecting that something +was going on in France of which it was necessary he should be informed, he only +took the time to inquire where the messenger was, and recognizing from afar the +uniform of the Guards, he put his horse into a gallop, and rode straight up to +D’Artagnan. Patrick discreetly kept in the background. +</p> + +<p> +“No misfortune has happened to the queen?” cried Buckingham, the instant he +came up, throwing all his fear and love into the question. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe not; nevertheless I believe she runs some great peril from which +your Grace alone can extricate her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I!” cried Buckingham. “What is it? I should be too happy to be of any service +to her. Speak, speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take this letter,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“This letter! From whom comes this letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“From her Majesty, as I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“From her Majesty!” said Buckingham, becoming so pale that D’Artagnan feared he +would faint as he broke the seal. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this rent?” said he, showing D’Artagnan a place where it had been +pierced through. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said D’Artagnan, “I did not see that; it was the sword of the Comte de +Wardes which made that hole, when he gave me a good thrust in the breast.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wounded?” asked Buckingham, as he opened the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing but a scratch,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Just heaven, what have I read?” cried the duke. “Patrick, remain here, or +rather join the king, wherever he may be, and tell his Majesty that I humbly +beg him to excuse me, but an affair of the greatest importance recalls me to +London. Come, monsieur, come!” and both set off towards the capital at full +gallop. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>Chapter XXI.<br/> +THE COUNTESS DE WINTER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">s</span> they rode along, the duke endeavored to draw from +D’Artagnan, not all that had happened, but what D’Artagnan himself knew. By +adding all that he heard from the mouth of the young man to his own +remembrances, he was enabled to form a pretty exact idea of a position of the +seriousness of which, for the rest, the queen’s letter, short but explicit, +gave him the clue. But that which astonished him most was that the cardinal, so +deeply interested in preventing this young man from setting his foot in +England, had not succeeded in arresting him on the road. It was then, upon the +manifestation of this astonishment, that D’Artagnan related to him the +precaution taken, and how, thanks to the devotion of his three friends, whom he +had left scattered and bleeding on the road, he had succeeded in coming off +with a single sword thrust, which had pierced the queen’s letter and for which +he had repaid M. de Wardes with such terrible coin. While he was listening to +this recital, delivered with the greatest simplicity, the duke looked from time +to time at the young man with astonishment, as if he could not comprehend how +so much prudence, courage, and devotedness could be allied with a countenance +which indicated not more than twenty years. +</p> + +<p> +The horses went like the wind, and in a few minutes they were at the gates of +London. D’Artagnan imagined that on arriving in town the duke would slacken his +pace, but it was not so. He kept on his way at the same rate, heedless about +upsetting those whom he met on the road. In fact, in crossing the city two or +three accidents of this kind happened; but Buckingham did not even turn his +head to see what became of those he had knocked down. D’Artagnan followed him +amid cries which strongly resembled curses. +</p> + +<p> +On entering the court of his hôtel, Buckingham sprang from his horse, and +without thinking what became of the animal, threw the bridle on his neck, and +sprang toward the vestibule. D’Artagnan did the same, with a little more +concern, however, for the noble creatures, whose merits he fully appreciated; +but he had the satisfaction of seeing three or four grooms run from the +kitchens and the stables, and busy themselves with the steeds. +</p> + +<p> +The duke walked so fast that D’Artagnan had some trouble in keeping up with +him. He passed through several apartments, of an elegance of which even the +greatest nobles of France had not even an idea, and arrived at length in a +bedchamber which was at once a miracle of taste and of richness. In the alcove +of this chamber was a door concealed in the tapestry which the duke opened with +a little gold key which he wore suspended from his neck by a chain of the same +metal. With discretion D’Artagnan remained behind; but at the moment when +Buckingham crossed the threshold, he turned round, and seeing the hesitation of +the young man, “Come in!” cried he, “and if you have the good fortune to be +admitted to her Majesty’s presence, tell her what you have seen.” +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by this invitation, D’Artagnan followed the duke, who closed the +door after them. The two found themselves in a small chapel covered with a +tapestry of Persian silk worked with gold, and brilliantly lighted with a vast +number of candles. Over a species of altar, and beneath a canopy of blue +velvet, surmounted by white and red plumes, was a full-length portrait of Anne +of Austria, so perfect in its resemblance that D’Artagnan uttered a cry of +surprise on beholding it. One might believe the queen was about to speak. On +the altar, and beneath the portrait, was the casket containing the diamond +studs. +</p> + +<p> +The duke approached the altar, knelt as a priest might have done before a +crucifix, and opened the casket. “There,” said he, drawing from the casket a +large bow of blue ribbon all sparkling with diamonds, “there are the precious +studs which I have taken an oath should be buried with me. The queen gave them +to me, the queen requires them again. Her will be done, like that of God, in +all things.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, he began to kiss, one after the other, those dear studs with which he was +about to part. All at once he uttered a terrible cry. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” exclaimed D’Artagnan, anxiously; “what has happened to +you, my Lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“All is lost!” cried Buckingham, becoming as pale as a corpse; “two of the +studs are wanting, there are only ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you have lost them, my Lord, or do you think they have been stolen?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have been stolen,” replied the duke, “and it is the cardinal who has +dealt this blow. Hold; see! The ribbons which held them have been cut with +scissors.” +</p> + +<p> +“If my Lord suspects they have been stolen, perhaps the person who stole them +still has them in his hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, wait!” said the duke. “The only time I have worn these studs was at a +ball given by the king eight days ago at Windsor. The Comtesse de Winter, with +whom I had quarreled, became reconciled to me at that ball. That reconciliation +was nothing but the vengeance of a jealous woman. I have never seen her from +that day. The woman is an agent of the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has agents, then, throughout the world?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Buckingham, grating his teeth with rage. “Yes, he is a terrible +antagonist. But when is this ball to take place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monday next.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monday next! Still five days before us. That’s more time than we want. +Patrick!” cried the duke, opening the door of the chapel, “Patrick!” His +confidential valet appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“My jeweler and my secretary.” +</p> + +<p> +The valet went out with a mute promptitude which showed him accustomed to obey +blindly and without reply. +</p> + +<p> +But although the jeweler had been mentioned first, it was the secretary who +first made his appearance. This was simply because he lived in the hôtel. He +found Buckingham seated at a table in his bedchamber, writing orders with his +own hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Jackson,” said he, “go instantly to the Lord Chancellor, and tell him that +I charge him with the execution of these orders. I wish them to be promulgated +immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my Lord, if the Lord Chancellor interrogates me upon the motives which +may have led your Grace to adopt such an extraordinary measure, what shall I +reply?” +</p> + +<p> +“That such is my pleasure, and that I answer for my will to no man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will that be the answer,” replied the secretary, smiling, “which he must +transmit to his Majesty if, by chance, his Majesty should have the curiosity to +know why no vessel is to leave any of the ports of Great Britain?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, Mr. Jackson,” replied Buckingham. “He will say, in that case, +to the king that I am determined on war, and that this measure is my first act +of hostility against France.” +</p> + +<p> +The secretary bowed and retired. +</p> + +<p> +“We are safe on that side,” said Buckingham, turning toward D’Artagnan. “If the +studs are not yet gone to Paris, they will not arrive till after you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just placed an embargo on all vessels at present in his Majesty’s +ports, and without particular permission, not one dare lift an anchor.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked with stupefaction at a man who thus employed the unlimited +power with which he was clothed by the confidence of a king in the prosecution +of his intrigues. Buckingham saw by the expression of the young man’s face what +was passing in his mind, and he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “yes, Anne of Austria is my true queen. Upon a word from her, I +would betray my country, I would betray my king, I would betray my God. She +asked me not to send the Protestants of La Rochelle the assistance I promised +them; I have not done so. I broke my word, it is true; but what signifies that? +I obeyed my love; and have I not been richly paid for that obedience? It was to +that obedience I owe her portrait.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was amazed to note by what fragile and unknown threads the destinies +of nations and the lives of men are suspended. He was lost in these reflections +when the goldsmith entered. He was an Irishman—one of the most skillful +of his craft, and who himself confessed that he gained a hundred thousand +livres a year by the Duke of Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. O’Reilly,” said the duke, leading him into the chapel, “look at these +diamond studs, and tell me what they are worth apiece.” +</p> + +<p> +The goldsmith cast a glance at the elegant manner in which they were set, +calculated, one with another, what the diamonds were worth, and without +hesitation said, “Fifteen hundred pistoles each, my Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many days would it require to make two studs exactly like them? You see +there are two wanting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight days, my Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will give you three thousand pistoles apiece if I can have them by the day +after tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, they shall be yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a jewel of a man, Mr. O’Reilly; but that is not all. These studs +cannot be trusted to anybody; it must be done in the palace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, my Lord! There is no one but myself can so execute them that one +cannot tell the new from the old.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, my dear Mr. O’Reilly, you are my prisoner. And if you wish ever to +leave my palace, you cannot; so make the best of it. Name to me such of your +workmen as you need, and point out the tools they must bring.” +</p> + +<p> +The goldsmith knew the duke. He knew all objection would be useless, and +instantly determined how to act. +</p> + +<p> +“May I be permitted to inform my wife?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you may even see her if you like, my dear Mr. O’Reilly. Your captivity +shall be mild, be assured; and as every inconvenience deserves its +indemnification, here is, in addition to the price of the studs, an order for a +thousand pistoles, to make you forget the annoyance I cause you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan could not get over the surprise created in him by this minister, who +thus open-handed, sported with men and millions. +</p> + +<p> +As to the goldsmith, he wrote to his wife, sending her the order for the +thousand pistoles, and charging her to send him, in exchange, his most skillful +apprentice, an assortment of diamonds, of which he gave the names and the +weight, and the necessary tools. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham conducted the goldsmith to the chamber destined for him, and which, +at the end of half an hour, was transformed into a workshop. Then he placed a +sentinel at each door, with an order to admit nobody upon any pretense but his +<i>valet de chambre</i>, Patrick. We need not add that the goldsmith, O’Reilly, +and his assistant, were prohibited from going out under any pretext. This +point, settled, the duke turned to D’Artagnan. “Now, my young friend,” said he, +“England is all our own. What do you wish for? What do you desire?” +</p> + +<p> +“A bed, my Lord,” replied D’Artagnan. “At present, I confess, that is the thing +I stand most in need of.” +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham gave D’Artagnan a chamber adjoining his own. He wished to have the +young man at hand—not that he at all mistrusted him, but for the sake of +having someone to whom he could constantly talk of the queen. +</p> + +<p> +In one hour after, the ordinance was published in London that no vessel bound +for France should leave port, not even the packet boat with letters. In the +eyes of everybody this was a declaration of war between the two kingdoms. +</p> + +<p> +On the day after the morrow, by eleven o’clock, the two diamond studs were +finished, and they were so completely imitated, so perfectly alike, that +Buckingham could not tell the new ones from the old ones, and experts in such +matters would have been deceived as he was. He immediately called D’Artagnan. +“Here,” said he to him, “are the diamond studs that you came to bring; and be +my witness that I have done all that human power could do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied, my Lord, I will tell all that I have seen. But does your Grace +mean to give me the studs without the casket?” +</p> + +<p> +“The casket would encumber you. Besides, the casket is the more precious from +being all that is left to me. You will say that I keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will perform your commission, word for word, my Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” resumed Buckingham, looking earnestly at the young man, “how shall I +ever acquit myself of the debt I owe you?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan blushed up to the whites of his eyes. He saw that the duke was +searching for a means of making him accept something and the idea that the +blood of his friends and himself was about to be paid for with English gold was +strangely repugnant to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us understand each other, my Lord,” replied D’Artagnan, “and let us make +things clear beforehand in order that there may be no mistake. I am in the +service of the King and Queen of France, and form part of the company of +Monsieur Dessessart, who, as well as his brother-in-law, Monsieur de Tréville, +is particularly attached to their Majesties. What I have done, then, has been +for the queen, and not at all for your Grace. And still further, it is very +probable I should not have done anything of this, if it had not been to make +myself agreeable to someone who is my lady, as the queen is yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the duke, smiling, “and I even believe that I know that other +person; it is—” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, I have not named her!” interrupted the young man, warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” said the duke; “and it is to this person I am bound to +discharge my debt of gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have said, my Lord; for truly, at this moment when there is question of +war, I confess to you that I see nothing in your Grace but an Englishman, and +consequently an enemy whom I should have much greater pleasure in meeting on +the field of battle than in the park at Windsor or the corridors of the +Louvre—all which, however, will not prevent me from executing to the very +point my commission or from laying down my life, if there be need of it, to +accomplish it; but I repeat it to your Grace, without your having personally on +that account more to thank me for in this second interview than for what I did +for you in the first.” +</p> + +<p> +“We say, ‘Proud as a Scotsman,’” murmured the Duke of Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“And we say, ‘Proud as a Gascon,’” replied D’Artagnan. “The Gascons are the +Scots of France.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and was retiring. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, are you going away in that manner? Where, and how?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fore Gad, these Frenchmen have no consideration!” +</p> + +<p> +“I had forgotten that England was an island, and that you were the king of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to the riverside, ask for the brig <i>Sund</i>, and give this letter to the +captain; he will convey you to a little port, where certainly you are not +expected, and which is ordinarily only frequented by fishermen.” +</p> + +<p> +“The name of that port?” +</p> + +<p> +“St. Valery; but listen. When you have arrived there you will go to a mean +tavern, without a name and without a sign—a mere fisherman’s hut. You +cannot be mistaken; there is but one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Afterward?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will ask for the host, and will repeat to him the word ‘Forward!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Which means?” +</p> + +<p> +“In French, <i>En avant</i>. It is the password. He will give you a horse all +saddled, and will point out to you the road you ought to take. You will find, +in the same way, four relays on your route. If you will give at each of these +relays your address in Paris, the four horses will follow you thither. You +already know two of them, and you appeared to appreciate them like a judge. +They were those we rode on; and you may rely upon me for the others not being +inferior to them. These horses are equipped for the field. However proud you +may be, you will not refuse to accept one of them, and to request your three +companions to accept the others—that is, in order to make war against us. +Besides, the end justified the means, as you Frenchmen say, does it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my Lord, I accept them,” said D’Artagnan; “and if it please God, we will +make a good use of your presents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, your hand, young man. Perhaps we shall soon meet on the field of +battle; but in the meantime we shall part good friends, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my Lord; but with the hope of soon becoming enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied; I promise you that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I depend upon your word, my Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and made his way as quickly as possible to the +riverside. Opposite the Tower of London he found the vessel that had been named +to him, delivered his letter to the captain, who after having it examined by +the governor of the port made immediate preparations to sail. +</p> + +<p> +Fifty vessels were waiting to set out. Passing alongside one of them, +D’Artagnan fancied he perceived on board it the woman of Meung—the same +whom the unknown gentleman had called Milady, and whom D’Artagnan had thought +so handsome; but thanks to the current of the stream and a fair wind, his +vessel passed so quickly that he had little more than a glimpse of her. +</p> + +<p> +The next day about nine o’clock in the morning, he landed at St. Valery. +D’Artagnan went instantly in search of the inn, and easily discovered it by the +riotous noise which resounded from it. War between England and France was +talked of as near and certain, and the jolly sailors were having a carousal. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan made his way through the crowd, advanced toward the host, and +pronounced the word “Forward!” The host instantly made him a sign to follow, +went out with him by a door which opened into a yard, led him to the stable, +where a saddled horse awaited him, and asked him if he stood in need of +anything else. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know the route I am to follow,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Go from hence to Blangy, and from Blangy to Neufchâtel. At Neufchâtel, go to +the tavern of the Golden Harrow, give the password to the landlord, and you +will find, as you have here, a horse ready saddled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I anything to pay?” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything is paid,” replied the host, “and liberally. Begone, and may God +guide you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen!” cried the young man, and set off at full gallop. +</p> + +<p> +Four hours later he was in Neufchâtel. He strictly followed the instructions he +had received. At Neufchâtel, as at St. Valery, he found a horse quite ready and +awaiting him. He was about to remove the pistols from the saddle he had quit to +the one he was about to fill, but he found the holsters furnished with similar +pistols. +</p> + +<p> +“Your address at Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hôtel of the Guards, company of Dessessart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough,” replied the questioner. +</p> + +<p> +“Which route must I take?” demanded D’Artagnan, in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“That of Rouen; but you will leave the city on your right. You must stop at the +little village of Eccuis, in which there is but one tavern—the Shield of +France. Don’t condemn it from appearances; you will find a horse in the stables +quite as good as this.” +</p> + +<p> +“The same password?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, master!” +</p> + +<p> +“A good journey, gentlemen! Do you want anything?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan shook his head, and set off at full speed. At Eccuis, the same scene +was repeated. He found as provident a host and a fresh horse. He left his +address as he had done before, and set off again at the same pace for Pontoise. +At Pontoise he changed his horse for the last time, and at nine o’clock +galloped into the yard of Tréville’s hôtel. He had made nearly sixty leagues in +little more than twelve hours. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville received him as if he had seen him that same morning; only, when +pressing his hand a little more warmly than usual, he informed him that the +company of Dessessart was on duty at the Louvre, and that he might repair at +once to his post. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>Chapter XXII.<br/> +THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">O</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> the morrow, nothing was talked of in Paris but the +ball which the aldermen of the city were to give to the king and queen, and in +which their Majesties were to dance the famous La Merlaison—the favorite +ballet of the king. +</p> + +<p> +Eight days had been occupied in preparations at the Hôtel de Ville for this +important evening. The city carpenters had erected scaffolds upon which the +invited ladies were to be placed; the city grocer had ornamented the chambers +with two hundred <i>flambeaux</i> of white wax, a piece of luxury unheard of at +that period; and twenty violins were ordered, and the price for them fixed at +double the usual rate, upon condition, said the report, that they should be +played all night. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock in the morning the Sieur de la Coste, ensign in the king’s +Guards, followed by two officers and several archers of that body, came to the +city registrar, named Clement, and demanded of him all the keys of the rooms +and offices of the hôtel. These keys were given up to him instantly. Each of +them had a ticket attached to it, by which it might be recognized; and from +that moment the Sieur de la Coste was charged with the care of all the doors +and all the avenues. +</p> + +<p> +At eleven o’clock came in his turn Duhallier, captain of the Guards, bringing +with him fifty archers, who were distributed immediately through the Hôtel de +Ville, at the doors assigned them. +</p> + +<p> +At three o’clock came two companies of the Guards, one French, the other Swiss. +The company of French guards was composed of half of M. Duhallier’s men and +half of M. Dessessart’s men. +</p> + +<p> +At six in the evening the guests began to come. As fast as they entered, they +were placed in the grand saloon, on the platforms prepared for them. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock Madame la Première Présidente arrived. As next to the queen, +she was the most considerable personage of the fête, she was received by the +city officials, and placed in a box opposite to that which the queen was to +occupy. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock, the king’s collation, consisting of preserves and other +delicacies, was prepared in the little room on the side of the church of St. +Jean, in front of the silver buffet of the city, which was guarded by four +archers. +</p> + +<p> +At midnight great cries and loud acclamations were heard. It was the king, who +was passing through the streets which led from the Louvre to the Hôtel de +Ville, and which were all illuminated with colored lanterns. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the aldermen, clothed in their cloth robes and preceded by six +sergeants, each holding a <i>flambeau</i> in his hand, went to attend upon the +king, whom they met on the steps, where the provost of the merchants made him +the speech of welcome—a compliment to which his Majesty replied with an +apology for coming so late, laying the blame upon the cardinal, who had +detained him till eleven o’clock, talking of affairs of state. +</p> + +<p> +His Majesty, in full dress, was accompanied by his royal Highness, M. le Comte +de Soissons, by the Grand Prior, by the Duc de Longueville, by the Duc +d’Eubœuf, by the Comte d’Harcourt, by the Comte de la Roche-Guyon, by M. de +Liancourt, by M. de Baradas, by the Comte de Cramail, and by the Chevalier de +Souveray. Everybody noticed that the king looked dull and preoccupied. +</p> + +<p> +A private room had been prepared for the king and another for Monsieur. In each +of these closets were placed masquerade dresses. The same had been done for the +queen and Madame the President. The nobles and ladies of their Majesties’ +suites were to dress, two by two, in chambers prepared for the purpose. Before +entering his closet the king desired to be informed the moment the cardinal +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour after the entrance of the king, fresh acclamations were heard; +these announced the arrival of the queen. The aldermen did as they had done +before, and preceded by their sergeants, advanced to receive their illustrious +guest. The queen entered the great hall; and it was remarked that, like the +king, she looked dull and even weary. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment she entered, the curtain of a small gallery which to that time +had been closed, was drawn, and the pale face of the cardinal appeared, he +being dressed as a Spanish cavalier. His eyes were fixed upon those of the +queen, and a smile of terrible joy passed over his lips; the queen did not wear +her diamond studs. +</p> + +<p> +The queen remained for a short time to receive the compliments of the city +dignitaries and to reply to the salutations of the ladies. All at once the king +appeared with the cardinal at one of the doors of the hall. The cardinal was +speaking to him in a low voice, and the king was very pale. +</p> + +<p> +The king made his way through the crowd without a mask, and the ribbons of his +doublet scarcely tied. He went straight to the queen, and in an altered voice +said, “Why, madame, have you not thought proper to wear your diamond studs, +when you know it would give me so much gratification?” +</p> + +<p> +The queen cast a glance around her, and saw the cardinal behind, with a +diabolical smile on his countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” replied the queen, with a faltering voice, “because, in the midst of +such a crowd as this, I feared some accident might happen to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you were wrong, madame. If I made you that present it was that you might +adorn yourself therewith. I tell you that you were wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +The voice of the king was tremulous with anger. Everybody looked and listened +with astonishment, comprehending nothing of what passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said the queen, “I can send for them to the Louvre, where they are, and +thus your Majesty’s wishes will be complied with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do so, madame, do so, and that at once; for within an hour the ballet will +commence.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen bent in token of submission, and followed the ladies who were to +conduct her to her room. On his part the king returned to his apartment. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of trouble and confusion in the assembly. Everybody had +remarked that something had passed between the king and queen; but both of them +had spoken so low that everybody, out of respect, withdrew several steps, so +that nobody had heard anything. The violins began to sound with all their +might, but nobody listened to them. +</p> + +<p> +The king came out first from his room. He was in a most elegant hunting +costume; and Monsieur and the other nobles were dressed like him. This was the +costume that best became the king. So dressed, he really appeared the first +gentleman of his kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal drew near to the king, and placed in his hand a small casket. The +king opened it, and found in it two diamond studs. +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean?” demanded he of the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied the latter; “only, if the queen has the studs, which I very +much doubt, count them, sire, and if you only find ten, ask her Majesty who can +have stolen from her the two studs that are here.” +</p> + +<p> +The king looked at the cardinal as if to interrogate him; but he had not time +to address any question to him—a cry of admiration burst from every +mouth. If the king appeared to be the first gentleman of his kingdom, the queen +was without doubt the most beautiful woman in France. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that the habit of a huntress became her admirably. She wore a beaver +hat with blue feathers, a surtout of gray-pearl velvet, fastened with diamond +clasps, and a petticoat of blue satin, embroidered with silver. On her left +shoulder sparkled the diamond studs, on a bow of the same color as the plumes +and the petticoat. +</p> + +<p> +The king trembled with joy and the cardinal with vexation; although, distant as +they were from the queen, they could not count the studs. The queen had them. +The only question was, had she ten or twelve? +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the violins sounded the signal for the ballet. The king advanced +toward Madame the President, with whom he was to dance, and his Highness +Monsieur with the queen. They took their places, and the ballet began. +</p> + +<p> +The king danced facing the queen, and every time he passed by her, he devoured +with his eyes those studs of which he could not ascertain the number. A cold +sweat covered the brow of the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +The ballet lasted an hour, and had sixteen <i>entrées</i>. The ballet ended +amid the applause of the whole assemblage, and everyone reconducted his lady to +her place; but the king took advantage of the privilege he had of leaving his +lady, to advance eagerly toward the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, madame,” said he, “for the deference you have shown to my wishes, +but I think you want two of the studs, and I bring them back to you.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words he held out to the queen the two studs the cardinal had given +him. +</p> + +<p> +“How, sire?” cried the young queen, affecting surprise, “you are giving me, +then, two more: I shall have fourteen.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact the king counted them, and the twelve studs were all on her Majesty’s +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +The king called the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean, Monsieur Cardinal?” asked the king in a severe tone. +</p> + +<p> +“This means, sire,” replied the cardinal, “that I was desirous of presenting +her Majesty with these two studs, and that not daring to offer them myself, I +adopted this means of inducing her to accept them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am the more grateful to your Eminence,” replied Anne of Austria, with a +smile that proved she was not the dupe of this ingenious gallantry, “from being +certain that these two studs alone have cost you as much as all the others cost +his Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +Then saluting the king and the cardinal, the queen resumed her way to the +chamber in which she had dressed, and where she was to take off her costume. +</p> + +<p> +The attention which we have been obliged to give, during the commencement of +the chapter, to the illustrious personages we have introduced into it, has +diverted us for an instant from him to whom Anne of Austria owed the +extraordinary triumph she had obtained over the cardinal; and who, confounded, +unknown, lost in the crowd gathered at one of the doors, looked on at this +scene, comprehensible only to four persons—the king, the queen, his +Eminence, and himself. +</p> + +<p> +The queen had just regained her chamber, and D’Artagnan was about to retire, +when he felt his shoulder lightly touched. He turned and saw a young woman, who +made him a sign to follow her. The face of this young woman was covered with a +black velvet mask; but notwithstanding this precaution, which was in fact taken +rather against others than against him, he at once recognized his usual guide, +the light and intelligent Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening before, they had scarcely seen each other for a moment at the +apartment of the Swiss guard, Germain, whither D’Artagnan had sent for her. The +haste which the young woman was in to convey to the queen the excellent news of +the happy return of her messenger prevented the two lovers from exchanging more +than a few words. D’Artagnan therefore followed Mme. Bonacieux moved by a +double sentiment—love and curiosity. All the way, and in proportion as +the corridors became more deserted, D’Artagnan wished to stop the young woman, +seize her and gaze upon her, were it only for a minute; but quick as a bird she +glided between his hands, and when he wished to speak to her, her finger placed +upon her mouth, with a little imperative gesture full of grace, reminded him +that he was under the command of a power which he must blindly obey, and which +forbade him even to make the slightest complaint. At length, after winding +about for a minute or two, Mme. Bonacieux opened the door of a closet, which +was entirely dark, and led D’Artagnan into it. There she made a fresh sign of +silence, and opened a second door concealed by tapestry. The opening of this +door disclosed a brilliant light, and she disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where he could be; +but soon a ray of light which penetrated through the chamber, together with the +warm and perfumed air which reached him from the same aperture, the +conversation of two of three ladies in language at once respectful and refined, +and the word “Majesty” several times repeated, indicated clearly that he was in +a closet attached to the queen’s apartment. The young man waited in comparative +darkness and listened. +</p> + +<p> +The queen appeared cheerful and happy, which seemed to astonish the persons who +surrounded her and who were accustomed to see her almost always sad and full of +care. The queen attributed this joyous feeling to the beauty of the fête, to +the pleasure she had experienced in the ballet; and as it is not permissible to +contradict a queen, whether she smile or weep, everybody expatiated on the +gallantry of the aldermen of the city of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Although D’Artagnan did not at all know the queen, he soon distinguished her +voice from the others, at first by a slightly foreign accent, and next by that +tone of domination naturally impressed upon all royal words. He heard her +approach and withdraw from the partially open door; and twice or three times he +even saw the shadow of a person intercept the light. +</p> + +<p> +At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in their form and +whiteness, glided through the tapestry. D’Artagnan at once comprehended that +this was his recompense. He cast himself on his knees, seized the hand, and +touched it respectfully with his lips. Then the hand was withdrawn, leaving in +his an object which he perceived to be a ring. The door immediately closed, and +D’Artagnan found himself again in complete obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it was evident that +all was not yet over. After the reward of his devotion, that of his love was to +come. Besides, although the ballet was danced, the evening had scarcely begun. +Supper was to be served at three, and the clock of St. Jean had struck three +quarters past two. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of voices diminished by degrees in the adjoining chamber. The company +was then heard departing; then the door of the closet in which D’Artagnan was, +was opened, and Mme. Bonacieux entered. +</p> + +<p> +“You at last?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said the young woman, placing her hand upon his lips; “silence, and +go the same way you came!” +</p> + +<p> +“But where and when shall I see you again?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“A note which you will find at home will tell you. Begone, begone!” +</p> + +<p> +At these words she opened the door of the corridor, and pushed D’Artagnan out +of the room. D’Artagnan obeyed like a child, without the least resistance or +objection, which proved that he was really in love. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>Chapter XXIII.<br/> +THE RENDEZVOUS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> ran home immediately, and although it was +three o’clock in the morning and he had some of the worst quarters of Paris to +traverse, he met with no misadventure. Everyone knows that drunkards and lovers +have a protecting deity. +</p> + +<p> +He found the door of his passage open, sprang up the stairs and knocked softly +in a manner agreed upon between him and his lackey. Planchet*, whom he had sent +home two hours before from the Hôtel de Ville, telling him to sit up for him, +opened the door for him. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* The reader may ask, “How came Planchet here?” when he was left “stiff as a +rush” in London. In the intervening time Buckingham perhaps sent him to Paris, +as he did the horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Has anyone brought a letter for me?” asked D’Artagnan, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“No one has <i>brought</i> a letter, monsieur,” replied Planchet; “but one has +come of itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, blockhead?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to say that when I came in, although I had the key of your apartment in +my pocket, and that key had never quit me, I found a letter on the green table +cover in your bedroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where is that letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I left it where I found it, monsieur. It is not natural for letters to enter +people’s houses in this manner. If the window had been open or even ajar, I +should think nothing of it; but, no—all was hermetically sealed. Beware, +monsieur; there is certainly some magic underneath.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the young man had darted in to his chamber, and opened the letter. +It was from Mme. Bonacieux, and was expressed in these terms: +</p> + +<p> +“There are many thanks to be offered to you, and to be transmitted to you. Be +this evening about ten o’clock at St. Cloud, in front of the pavilion which +stands at the corner of the house of M. d’Estrées.—C.B.” +</p> + +<p> +While reading this letter, D’Artagnan felt his heart dilated and compressed by +that delicious spasm which tortures and caresses the hearts of lovers. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first billet he had received; it was the first rendezvous that had +been granted him. His heart, swelled by the intoxication of joy, felt ready to +dissolve away at the very gate of that terrestrial paradise called Love! +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur,” said Planchet, who had observed his master grow red and pale +successively, “did I not guess truly? Is it not some bad affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, Planchet,” replied D’Artagnan; “and as a proof, there is a +crown to drink my health.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am much obliged to Monsieur for the crown he has given me, and I promise him +to follow his instructions exactly; but it is not the less true that letters +which come in this way into shut-up houses—” +</p> + +<p> +“Fall from heaven, my friend, fall from heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Monsieur is satisfied?” asked Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Planchet, I am the happiest of men!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I may profit by Monsieur’s happiness, and go to bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, go.” +</p> + +<p> +“May the blessings of heaven fall upon Monsieur! But it is not the less true +that that letter—” +</p> + +<p> +And Planchet retired, shaking his head with an air of doubt, which the +liberality of D’Artagnan had not entirely effaced. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, D’Artagnan read and reread his billet. Then he kissed and rekissed +twenty times the lines traced by the hand of his beautiful mistress. At length +he went to bed, fell asleep, and had golden dreams. +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock in the morning he arose and called Planchet, who at the second +summons opened the door, his countenance not yet quite freed from the anxiety +of the preceding night. +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, “I am going out for all day, perhaps. You are, +therefore, your own master till seven o’clock in the evening; but at seven +o’clock you must hold yourself in readiness with two horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said Planchet. “We are going again, it appears, to have our hides +pierced in all sorts of ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will take your musketoon and your pistols.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, now! Didn’t I say so?” cried Planchet. “I was sure of it—the +cursed letter!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid, you idiot; there is nothing in hand but a party of pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, like the charming journey the other day, when it rained bullets and +produced a crop of steel traps!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you are really afraid, Monsieur Planchet,” resumed D’Artagnan, “I +will go without you. I prefer traveling alone to having a companion who +entertains the least fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur does me wrong,” said Planchet; “I thought he had seen me at work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I thought perhaps you had worn out all your courage the first time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur shall see that upon occasion I have some left; only I beg Monsieur +not to be too prodigal of it if he wishes it to last long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe you have still a certain amount of it to expend this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I count on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the appointed hour I shall be ready; only I believed that Monsieur had but +one horse in the Guard stables.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps there is but one at this moment; but by this evening there will be +four.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears that our journey was a remounting journey, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so,” said D’Artagnan; and nodding to Planchet, he went out. +</p> + +<p> +M. Bonacieux was at his door. D’Artagnan’s intention was to go out without +speaking to the worthy mercer; but the latter made so polite and friendly a +salutation that his tenant felt obliged, not only to stop, but to enter into +conversation with him. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, how is it possible to avoid a little condescension toward a husband +whose pretty wife has appointed a meeting with you that same evening at St. +Cloud, opposite D’Estrées’s pavilion? D’Artagnan approached him with the most +amiable air he could assume. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation naturally fell upon the incarceration of the poor man. M. +Bonacieux, who was ignorant that D’Artagnan had overheard his conversation with +the stranger of Meung, related to his young tenant the persecutions of that +monster, M. de Laffemas, whom he never ceased to designate, during his account, +by the title of the “cardinal’s executioner,” and expatiated at great length +upon the Bastille, the bolts, the wickets, the dungeons, the gratings, the +instruments of torture. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan listened to him with exemplary complaisance, and when he had +finished said, “And Madame Bonacieux, do you know who carried her +off?—For I do not forget that I owe to that unpleasant circumstance the +good fortune of having made your acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Bonacieux, “they took good care not to tell me that; and my wife, on +her part, has sworn to me by all that’s sacred that she does not know. But +you,” continued M. Bonacieux, in a tone of perfect good fellowship, “what has +become of you all these days? I have not seen you nor your friends, and I don’t +think you could gather all that dust that I saw Planchet brush off your boots +yesterday from the pavement of Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, my friends and I have been on a +little journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Far from here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord, no! About forty leagues only. We went to take Monsieur Athos to the +waters of Forges, where my friends still remain.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have returned, have you not?” replied M. Bonacieux, giving to his +countenance a most sly air. “A handsome young fellow like you does not obtain +long leaves of absence from his mistress; and we were impatiently waited for at +Paris, were we not?” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith!” said the young man, laughing, “I confess it, and so much more the +readily, my dear Bonacieux, as I see there is no concealing anything from you. +Yes, I was expected, and very impatiently, I acknowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +A slight shade passed over the brow of Bonacieux, but so slight that D’Artagnan +did not perceive it. +</p> + +<p> +“And we are going to be recompensed for our diligence?” continued the mercer, +with a trifling alteration in his voice—so trifling, indeed, that +D’Artagnan did not perceive it any more than he had the momentary shade which, +an instant before, had darkened the countenance of the worthy man. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, may you be a true prophet!” said D’Artagnan, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“No; what I say,” replied Bonacieux, “is only that I may know whether I am +delaying you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why that question, my dear host?” asked D’Artagnan. “Do you intend to sit up +for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but since my arrest and the robbery that was committed in my house, I am +alarmed every time I hear a door open, particularly in the night. What the +deuce can you expect? I am no swordsman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t be alarmed if I return at one, two or three o’clock in the +morning; indeed, do not be alarmed if I do not come at all.” +</p> + +<p> +This time Bonacieux became so pale that D’Artagnan could not help perceiving +it, and asked him what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied Bonacieux, “nothing. Since my misfortunes I have been +subject to faintnesses, which seize me all at once, and I have just felt a cold +shiver. Pay no attention to it; you have nothing to occupy yourself with but +being happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I have full occupation, for I am so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet; wait a little! This evening, you said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this evening will come, thank God! And perhaps you look for it with as +much impatience as I do; perhaps this evening Madame Bonacieux will visit the +conjugal domicile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Bonacieux is not at liberty this evening,” replied the husband, +seriously; “she is detained at the Louvre this evening by her duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse! When I am happy, I +wish all the world to be so; but it appears that is not possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man departed, laughing at the joke, which he thought he alone could +comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +“Amuse yourself well!” replied Bonacieux, in a sepulchral tone. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan was too far off to hear him; and if he had heard him in the +disposition of mind he then enjoyed, he certainly would not have remarked it. +</p> + +<p> +He took his way toward the hôtel of M. de Tréville; his visit of the day +before, it is to be remembered, had been very short and very little +explicative. +</p> + +<p> +He found Tréville in a joyful mood. He had thought the king and queen charming +at the ball. It is true the cardinal had been particularly ill-tempered. He had +retired at one o’clock under the pretense of being indisposed. As to their +Majesties, they did not return to the Louvre till six o’clock in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Tréville, lowering his voice, and looking into every corner of the +apartment to see if they were alone, “now let us talk about yourself, my young +friend; for it is evident that your happy return has something to do with the +joy of the king, the triumph of the queen, and the humiliation of his Eminence. +You must look out for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have I to fear,” replied D’Artagnan, “as long as I shall have the luck to +enjoy the favor of their Majesties?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything, believe me. The cardinal is not the man to forget a mystification +until he has settled account with the mystifier; and the mystifier appears to +me to have the air of being a certain young Gascon of my acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe that the cardinal is as well posted as yourself, and knows that +I have been to London?” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! You have been to London! Was it from London you brought that +beautiful diamond that glitters on your finger? Beware, my dear D’Artagnan! A +present from an enemy is not a good thing. Are there not some Latin verses upon +that subject? Stop!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, doubtless,” replied D’Artagnan, who had never been able to cram the first +rudiments of that language into his head, and who had by his ignorance driven +his master to despair, “yes, doubtless there is one.” +</p> + +<p> +“There certainly is one,” said M. de Tréville, who had a tincture of +literature, “and Monsieur de Benserade was quoting it to me the other day. Stop +a minute—ah, this is it: ‘Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,’ which means, +‘Beware of the enemy who makes you presents.” +</p> + +<p> +“This diamond does not come from an enemy, monsieur,” replied D’Artagnan, “it +comes from the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“From the queen! Oh, oh!” said M. de Tréville. “Why, it is indeed a true royal +jewel, which is worth a thousand pistoles if it is worth a denier. By whom did +the queen send you this jewel?” +</p> + +<p> +“She gave it to me herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the room adjoining the chamber in which she changed her toilet.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Giving me her hand to kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have kissed the queen’s hand?” said M. de Tréville, looking earnestly at +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Her Majesty did me the honor to grant me that favor.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that in the presence of witnesses! Imprudent, thrice imprudent!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, be satisfied; nobody saw her,” replied D’Artagnan, and he +related to M. de Tréville how the affair came to pass. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the women, the women!” cried the old soldier. “I know them by their +romantic imagination. Everything that savors of mystery charms them. So you +have seen the arm, that was all. You would meet the queen, and she would not +know who you are?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but thanks to this diamond,” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said M. de Tréville; “shall I give you counsel, good counsel, the +counsel of a friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will do me honor, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, off to the nearest goldsmith’s, and sell that diamond for the +highest price you can get from him. However much of a Jew he may be, he will +give you at least eight hundred pistoles. Pistoles have no name, young man, and +that ring has a terrible one, which may betray him who wears it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sell this ring, a ring which comes from my sovereign? Never!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, at least turn the gem inside, you silly fellow; for everybody must be +aware that a cadet from Gascony does not find such stones in his mother’s jewel +case.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think, then, I have something to dread?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to say, young man, that he who sleeps over a mine the match of which is +already lighted, may consider himself in safety in comparison with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said D’Artagnan, whom the positive tone of M. de Tréville began to +disquiet, “the devil! What must I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Above all things be always on your guard. The cardinal has a tenacious memory +and a long arm; you may depend upon it, he will repay you by some ill turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“But of what sort?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh! How can I tell? Has he not all the tricks of a demon at his command? The +least that can be expected is that you will be arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Will they dare to arrest a man in his Majesty’s service?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i> They did not scruple much in the case of Athos. At all events, +young man, rely upon one who has been thirty years at court. Do not lull +yourself in security, or you will be lost; but, on the contrary—and it is +I who say it—see enemies in all directions. If anyone seeks a quarrel +with you, shun it, were it with a child of ten years old. If you are attacked +by day or by night, fight, but retreat, without shame; if you cross a bridge, +feel every plank of it with your foot, lest one should give way beneath you; if +you pass before a house which is being built, look up, for fear a stone should +fall upon your head; if you stay out late, be always followed by your lackey, +and let your lackey be armed—if, by the by, you can be sure of your +lackey. Mistrust everybody, your friend, your brother, your mistress—your +mistress above all.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“My mistress above all,” repeated he, mechanically; “and why her rather than +another?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because a mistress is one of the cardinal’s favorite means; he has not one +that is more expeditious. A woman will sell you for ten pistoles, witness +Delilah. You are acquainted with the Scriptures?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan thought of the appointment Mme. Bonacieux had made with him for that +very evening; but we are bound to say, to the credit of our hero, that the bad +opinion entertained by M. de Tréville of women in general, did not inspire him +with the least suspicion of his pretty hostess. +</p> + +<p> +“But, <i>à propos</i>,” resumed M. de Tréville, “what has become of your three +companions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to ask you if you had heard any news of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I left them on my road—Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel on his +hands; Aramis at Crèvecœur, with a ball in his shoulder; and Athos at Amiens, +detained by an accusation of coining.” +</p> + +<p> +“See there, now!” said M. de Tréville; “and how the devil did you escape?” +</p> + +<p> +“By a miracle, monsieur, I must acknowledge, with a sword thrust in my breast, +and by nailing the Comte de Wardes on the byroad to Calais, like a butterfly on +a tapestry.” +</p> + +<p> +“There again! De Wardes, one of the cardinal’s men, a cousin of Rochefort! +Stop, my friend, I have an idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“In your place, I would do one thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“While his Eminence was seeking for me in Paris, I would take, without sound of +drum or trumpet, the road to Picardy, and would go and make some inquiries +concerning my three companions. What the devil! They merit richly that piece of +attention on your part.” +</p> + +<p> +“The advice is good, monsieur, and tomorrow I will set out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow! Any why not this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“This evening, monsieur, I am detained in Paris by indispensable business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, young man, young man, some flirtation or other. Take care, I repeat to +you, take care. It is woman who has ruined us, still ruins us, and will ruin +us, as long as the world stands. Take my advice and set out this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have given your word, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that’s quite another thing; but promise me, if you should not be killed +tonight, that you will go tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you need money?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have still fifty pistoles. That, I think, is as much as I shall want.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your companions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think they can be in need of any. We left Paris, each with +seventy-five pistoles in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I see you again before your departure?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, monsieur, unless something new should happen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, a pleasant journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan left M. de Tréville, touched more than ever by his paternal +solicitude for his Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +He called successively at the abodes of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. Neither of +them had returned. Their lackeys likewise were absent, and nothing had been +heard of either the one or the other. He would have inquired after them of +their mistresses, but he was neither acquainted with Porthos’s nor Aramis’s, +and as to Athos, he had none. +</p> + +<p> +As he passed the Hôtel des Gardes, he took a glance into the stables. Three of +the four horses had already arrived. Planchet, all astonishment, was busy +grooming them, and had already finished two. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur,” said Planchet, on perceiving D’Artagnan, “how glad I am to see +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, Planchet?” asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you place confidence in our landlord—Monsieur Bonacieux?” +</p> + +<p> +“I? Not the least in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you do quite right, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why this question?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, while you were talking with him, I watched you without listening to +you; and, monsieur, his countenance changed color two or three times!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” +</p> + +<p> +“Preoccupied as Monsieur was with the letter he had received, he did not +observe that; but I, whom the strange fashion in which that letter came into +the house had placed on my guard—I did not lose a movement of his +features.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you found it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Traitorous, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Still more; as soon as Monsieur had left and disappeared round the corner of +the street, Monsieur Bonacieux took his hat, shut his door, and set off at a +quick pace in an opposite direction.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems you are right, Planchet; all this appears to be a little mysterious; +and be assured that we will not pay him our rent until the matter shall be +categorically explained to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur jests, but Monsieur will see.” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have, Planchet? What must come is written.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur does not then renounce his excursion for this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite the contrary, Planchet; the more ill will I have toward Monsieur +Bonacieux, the more punctual I shall be in keeping the appointment made by that +letter which makes you so uneasy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is Monsieur’s determination?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undeniably, my friend. At nine o’clock, then, be ready here at the hôtel, I +will come and take you.” +</p> + +<p> +Planchet seeing there was no longer any hope of making his master renounce his +project, heaved a profound sigh and set to work to groom the third horse. +</p> + +<p> +As to D’Artagnan, being at bottom a prudent youth, instead of returning home, +went and dined with the Gascon priest, who, at the time of the distress of the +four friends, had given them a breakfast of chocolate. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>Chapter XXIV.<br/> +THE PAVILION</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> nine o’clock D’Artagnan was at the Hôtel des Gardes; +he found Planchet all ready. The fourth horse had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet was armed with his musketoon and a pistol. D’Artagnan had his sword +and placed two pistols in his belt; then both mounted and departed quietly. It +was quite dark, and no one saw them go out. Planchet took place behind his +master, and kept at a distance of ten paces from him. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan crossed the quays, went out by the gate of La Conférence and +followed the road, much more beautiful then than it is now, which leads to St. +Cloud. +</p> + +<p> +As long as he was in the city, Planchet kept at the respectful distance he had +imposed upon himself; but as soon as the road began to be more lonely and dark, +he drew softly nearer, so that when they entered the Bois de Boulogne he found +himself riding quite naturally side by side with his master. In fact, we must +not dissemble that the oscillation of the tall trees and the reflection of the +moon in the dark underwood gave him serious uneasiness. D’Artagnan could not +help perceiving that something more than usual was passing in the mind of his +lackey and said, “Well, Monsieur Planchet, what is the matter with us now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think, monsieur, that woods are like churches?” +</p> + +<p> +“How so, Planchet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because we dare not speak aloud in one or the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did you not dare to speak aloud, Planchet—because you are +afraid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Afraid of being heard? Yes, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Afraid of being heard! Why, there is nothing improper in our conversation, my +dear Planchet, and no one could find fault with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” replied Planchet, recurring to his besetting idea, “that +Monsieur Bonacieux has something vicious in his eyebrows, and something very +unpleasant in the play of his lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil makes you think of Bonacieux?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, we think of what we can, and not of what we will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you are a coward, Planchet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, we must not confound prudence with cowardice; prudence is a virtue.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are very virtuous, are you not, Planchet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, is not that the barrel of a musket which glitters yonder? Had we not +better lower our heads?” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth,” murmured D’Artagnan, to whom M. de Tréville’s recommendation +recurred, “this animal will end by making me afraid.” And he put his horse into +a trot. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet followed the movements of his master as if he had been his shadow, and +was soon trotting by his side. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we going to continue this pace all night?” asked Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“No; you are at your journey’s end.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, monsieur! And you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going a few steps farther.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Monsieur leaves me here alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are afraid, Planchet?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I only beg leave to observe to Monsieur that the night will be very cold, +that chills bring on rheumatism, and that a lackey who has the rheumatism makes +but a poor servant, particularly to a master as active as Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you are cold, Planchet, you can go into one of those cabarets that +you see yonder, and be in waiting for me at the door by six o’clock in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I have eaten and drunk respectfully the crown you gave me this +morning, so that I have not a sou left in case I should be cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s half a pistole. Tomorrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan sprang from his horse, threw the bridle to Planchet, and departed at +a quick pace, folding his cloak around him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, how cold I am!” cried Planchet, as soon as he had lost sight of his +master; and in such haste was he to warm himself that he went straight to a +house set out with all the attributes of a suburban tavern, and knocked at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime D’Artagnan, who had plunged into a bypath, continued his route +and reached St. Cloud; but instead of following the main street he turned +behind the château, reached a sort of retired lane, and found himself soon in +front of the pavilion named. It was situated in a very private spot. A high +wall, at the angle of which was the pavilion, ran along one side of this lane, +and on the other was a little garden connected with a poor cottage which was +protected by a hedge from passers-by. +</p> + +<p> +He gained the place appointed, and as no signal had been given him by which to +announce his presence, he waited. +</p> + +<p> +Not the least noise was to be heard; it might be imagined that he was a hundred +miles from the capital. D’Artagnan leaned against the hedge, after having cast +a glance behind it. Beyond that hedge, that garden, and that cottage, a dark +mist enveloped with its folds that immensity where Paris slept—a vast +void from which glittered a few luminous points, the funeral stars of that +hell! +</p> + +<p> +But for D’Artagnan all aspects were clothed happily, all ideas wore a smile, +all shades were diaphanous. The appointed hour was about to strike. In fact, at +the end of a few minutes the belfry of St. Cloud let fall slowly ten strokes +from its sonorous jaws. There was something melancholy in this brazen voice +pouring out its lamentations in the middle of the night; but each of those +strokes, which made up the expected hour, vibrated harmoniously to the heart of +the young man. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were fixed upon the little pavilion situated at the angle of the wall, +of which all the windows were closed with shutters, except one on the first +story. Through this window shone a mild light which silvered the foliage of two +or three linden trees which formed a group outside the park. There could be no +doubt that behind this little window, which threw forth such friendly beams, +the pretty Mme. Bonacieux expected him. +</p> + +<p> +Wrapped in this sweet idea, D’Artagnan waited half an hour without the least +impatience, his eyes fixed upon that charming little abode of which he could +perceive a part of the ceiling with its gilded moldings, attesting the elegance +of the rest of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The belfry of St. Cloud sounded half past ten. +</p> + +<p> +This time, without knowing why, D’Artagnan felt a cold shiver run through his +veins. Perhaps the cold began to affect him, and he took a perfectly physical +sensation for a moral impression. +</p> + +<p> +Then the idea seized him that he had read incorrectly, and that the appointment +was for eleven o’clock. He drew near to the window, and placing himself so that +a ray of light should fall upon the letter as he held it, he drew it from his +pocket and read it again; but he had not been mistaken, the appointment was for +ten o’clock. He went and resumed his post, beginning to be rather uneasy at +this silence and this solitude. +</p> + +<p> +Eleven o’clock sounded. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan began now really to fear that something had happened to Mme. +Bonacieux. He clapped his hands three times—the ordinary signal of +lovers; but nobody replied to him, not even an echo. +</p> + +<p> +He then thought, with a touch of vexation, that perhaps the young woman had +fallen asleep while waiting for him. He approached the wall, and tried to climb +it; but the wall had been recently pointed, and D’Artagnan could get no hold. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment he thought of the trees, upon whose leaves the light still +shone; and as one of them drooped over the road, he thought that from its +branches he might get a glimpse of the interior of the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +The tree was easy to climb. Besides, D’Artagnan was but twenty years old, and +consequently had not yet forgotten his schoolboy habits. In an instant he was +among the branches, and his keen eyes plunged through the transparent panes +into the interior of the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +It was a strange thing, and one which made D’Artagnan tremble from the sole of +his foot to the roots of his hair, to find that this soft light, this calm +lamp, enlightened a scene of fearful disorder. One of the windows was broken, +the door of the chamber had been beaten in and hung, split in two, on its +hinges. A table, which had been covered with an elegant supper, was overturned. +The decanters broken in pieces, and the fruits crushed, strewed the floor. +Everything in the apartment gave evidence of a violent and desperate struggle. +D’Artagnan even fancied he could recognize amid this strange disorder, +fragments of garments, and some bloody spots staining the cloth and the +curtains. He hastened to descend into the street, with a frightful beating at +his heart; he wished to see if he could find other traces of violence. +</p> + +<p> +The little soft light shone on in the calmness of the night. D’Artagnan then +perceived a thing that he had not before remarked—for nothing had led him +to the examination—that the ground, trampled here and hoofmarked there, +presented confused traces of men and horses. Besides, the wheels of a carriage, +which appeared to have come from Paris, had made a deep impression in the soft +earth, which did not extend beyond the pavilion, but turned again toward Paris. +</p> + +<p> +At length D’Artagnan, in pursuing his researches, found near the wall a woman’s +torn glove. This glove, wherever it had not touched the muddy ground, was of +irreproachable odor. It was one of those perfumed gloves that lovers like to +snatch from a pretty hand. +</p> + +<p> +As D’Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant and more icy sweat +rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heart was oppressed by a horrible +anguish; his respiration was broken and short. And yet he said, to reassure +himself, that this pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; +that the young woman had made an appointment with him before the pavilion, and +not in the pavilion; that she might have been detained in Paris by her duties, +or perhaps by the jealousy of her husband. +</p> + +<p> +But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by that feeling of +intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes possession of our being, and +cries to us so as to be understood unmistakably that some great misfortune is +hanging over us. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road, took the path +he had before taken, and reaching the ferry, interrogated the boatman. +</p> + +<p> +About seven o’clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a young woman, +wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very anxious not to be +recognized; but entirely on account of her precautions, the boatman had paid +more attention to her and discovered that she was young and pretty. +</p> + +<p> +There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who came to St. +Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and yet D’Artagnan did not for +an instant doubt that it was Mme. Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin of the ferryman +to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again, and satisfy himself that he +had not been mistaken, that the appointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, +before the D’Estrées’s pavilion and not in another street. Everything conspired +to prove to D’Artagnan that his presentiments had not deceived him, and that a +great misfortune had happened. +</p> + +<p> +He again ran back to the château. It appeared to him that something might have +happened at the pavilion in his absence, and that fresh information awaited +him. The lane was still deserted, and the same calm soft light shone through +the window. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure, which had no doubt +seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate of the enclosure was shut; but he +leaped over the hedge, and in spite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up +to the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death reigned in the cabin +as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his last resource, he knocked again. +</p> + +<p> +It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within—a timid noise +which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so full of anxiety +and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice was of a nature to reassure +the most fearful. At length an old, worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather +pushed ajar, but closed again as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which +burned in the corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol pommels +of D’Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had been, D’Artagnan had had +time to get a glimpse of the head of an old man. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of heaven!” cried he, “listen to me; I have been waiting for +someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety. Has anything particular +happened in the neighborhood? Speak!” +</p> + +<p> +The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared, only it was now +still more pale than before. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names. He told how he +had a rendezvous with a young woman before that pavilion, and how, not seeing +her come, he had climbed the linden tree, and by the light of the lamp had seen +the disorder of the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it was all so; and +then, when D’Artagnan had ended, he shook his head with an air that announced +nothing good. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” cried D’Artagnan. “In the name of heaven, explain +yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monsieur,” said the old man, “ask me nothing; for if I dared tell you what +I have seen, certainly no good would befall me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have, then, seen something?” replied D’Artagnan. “In that case, in the +name of heaven,” continued he, throwing him a pistole, “tell me what you have +seen, and I will pledge you the word of a gentleman that not one of your words +shall escape from my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of the young man +that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in a low voice: “It was +scarcely nine o’clock when I heard a noise in the street, and was wondering +what it could be, when on coming to my door, I found that somebody was +endeavoring to open it. As I am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I +went and opened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In the +shadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses. These horses +evidently belonged to the three men, who were dressed as cavaliers. ‘Ah, my +worthy gentlemen,’ cried I, ‘what do you want?’ ‘You must have a ladder?’ said +he who appeared to be the leader of the party. ‘Yes, monsieur, the one with +which I gather my fruit.’ ‘Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there +is a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember this—if +you speak a word of what you may see or what you may hear (for you will look +and you will listen, I am quite sure, however we may threaten you), you are +lost.’ At these words he threw me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the +ladder. After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to the +house, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing along in the shade +of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, from which I could hear and see +everything. The three men brought the carriage up quietly, and took out of it a +little man, stout, short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark +color, who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at the +window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone up, and whispered, +‘It is she!’ Immediately, he who had spoken to me approached the door of the +pavilion, opened it with a key he had in his hand, closed the door and +disappeared, while at the same time the other two men ascended the ladder. The +little old man remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of his +horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once great cries resounded in +the pavilion, and a woman came to the window, and opened it, as if to throw +herself out of it; but as soon as she perceived the other two men, she fell +back and they went into the chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise +of breaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but her cries +were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearing the woman in their arms, +and carried her to the carriage, into which the little old man got after her. +The leader closed the window, came out an instant after by the door, and +satisfied himself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companions were +already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackey took his place by +the coachman; the carriage went off at a quick pace, escorted by the three +horsemen, and all was over. From that moment I have neither seen nor heard +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remained motionless and +mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy were howling in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my good gentleman,” resumed the old man, upon whom this mute despair +certainly produced a greater effect than cries and tears would have done, “do +not take on so; they did not kill her, and that’s a comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you guess,” said D’Artagnan, “who was the man who headed this infernal +expedition?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But as you spoke to him you must have seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s a description you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so.” +</p> + +<p> +“A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the air of a +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the man!” cried D’Artagnan, “again he, forever he! He is my demon, +apparently. And the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“The short one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he was not a gentleman, I’ll answer for it; besides, he did not wear a +sword, and the others treated him with small consideration.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some lackey,” murmured D’Artagnan. “Poor woman, poor woman, what have they +done with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?” said the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman has but his +word, and I have given you mine.” +</p> + +<p> +With a heavy heart, D’Artagnan again bent his way toward the ferry. Sometimes +he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and that he should find her next day +at the Louvre; sometimes he feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, +in a jealous fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by +doubt, grief, and despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I had my three friends here,” cried he, “I should have, at least, some +hopes of finding her; but who knows what has become of them?” +</p> + +<p> +It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet. D’Artagnan went +successively into all the cabarets in which there was a light, but could not +find Planchet in any of them. +</p> + +<p> +At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was rather dubious. D’Artagnan +had appointed six o’clock in the morning for his lackey, and wherever he might +be, he was right. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, it came into the young man’s mind that by remaining in the environs of +the spot on which this sad event had passed, he would, perhaps, have some light +thrown upon the mysterious affair. At the sixth cabaret, then, as we said, +D’Artagnan stopped, asked for a bottle of wine of the best quality, and placing +himself in the darkest corner of the room, determined thus to wait till +daylight; but this time again his hopes were disappointed, and although he +listened with all his ears, he heard nothing, amid the oaths, coarse jokes, and +abuse which passed between the laborers, servants, and carters who comprised +the honorable society of which he formed a part, which could put him upon the +least track of her who had been stolen from him. He was compelled, then, after +having swallowed the contents of his bottle, to pass the time as well as to +evade suspicion, to fall into the easiest position in his corner and to sleep, +whether well or ill. D’Artagnan, be it remembered, was only twenty years old, +and at that age sleep has its imprescriptible rights which it imperiously +insists upon, even with the saddest hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Toward six o’clock D’Artagnan awoke with that uncomfortable feeling which +generally accompanies the break of day after a bad night. He was not long in +making his toilet. He examined himself to see if advantage had been taken of +his sleep, and having found his diamond ring on his finger, his purse in his +pocket, and his pistols in his belt, he rose, paid for his bottle, and went out +to try if he could have any better luck in his search after his lackey than he +had had the night before. The first thing he perceived through the damp gray +mist was honest Planchet, who, with the two horses in hand, awaited him at the +door of a little blind cabaret, before which D’Artagnan had passed without even +a suspicion of its existence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>Chapter XXV.<br/> +PORTHOS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">nstead</span> of returning directly home, D’Artagnan alighted +at the door of M. de Tréville, and ran quickly up the stairs. This time he had +decided to relate all that had passed. M. de Tréville would doubtless give him +good advice as to the whole affair. Besides, as M. de Tréville saw the queen +almost daily, he might be able to draw from her Majesty some intelligence of +the poor young woman, whom they were doubtless making pay very dearly for her +devotedness to her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville listened to the young man’s account with a seriousness which +proved that he saw something else in this adventure besides a love affair. When +D’Artagnan had finished, he said, “Hum! All this savors of his Eminence, a +league off.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is to be done?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, absolutely nothing, at present, but quitting Paris, as I told you, as +soon as possible. I will see the queen; I will relate to her the details of the +disappearance of this poor woman, of which she is no doubt ignorant. These +details will guide her on her part, and on your return, I shall perhaps have +some good news to tell you. Rely on me.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan knew that, although a Gascon, M. de Tréville was not in the habit of +making promises, and that when by chance he did promise, he more than kept his +word. He bowed to him, then, full of gratitude for the past and for the future; +and the worthy captain, who on his side felt a lively interest in this young +man, so brave and so resolute, pressed his hand kindly, wishing him a pleasant +journey. +</p> + +<p> +Determined to put the advice of M. de Tréville in practice instantly, +D’Artagnan directed his course toward the Rue des Fossoyeurs, in order to +superintend the packing of his valise. On approaching the house, he perceived +M. Bonacieux in morning costume, standing at his threshold. All that the +prudent Planchet had said to him the preceding evening about the sinister +character of the old man recurred to the mind of D’Artagnan, who looked at him +with more attention than he had done before. In fact, in addition to that +yellow, sickly paleness which indicates the insinuation of the bile in the +blood, and which might, besides, be accidental, D’Artagnan remarked something +perfidiously significant in the play of the wrinkled features of his +countenance. A rogue does not laugh in the same way that an honest man does; a +hypocrite does not shed the tears of a man of good faith. All falsehood is a +mask; and however well made the mask may be, with a little attention we may +always succeed in distinguishing it from the true face. +</p> + +<p> +It appeared, then, to D’Artagnan that M. Bonacieux wore a mask, and likewise +that that mask was most disagreeable to look upon. In consequence of this +feeling of repugnance, he was about to pass without speaking to him, but, as he +had done the day before, M. Bonacieux accosted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, young man,” said he, “we appear to pass rather gay nights! Seven o’clock +in the morning! <i>Peste!</i> You seem to reverse ordinary customs, and come +home at the hour when other people are going out.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one can reproach you for anything of the kind, Monsieur Bonacieux,” said +the young man; “you are a model for regular people. It is true that when a man +possesses a young and pretty wife, he has no need to seek happiness elsewhere. +Happiness comes to meet him, does it not, Monsieur Bonacieux?” +</p> + +<p> +Bonacieux became as pale as death, and grinned a ghastly smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Bonacieux, “you are a jocular companion! But where the devil +were you gadding last night, my young master? It does not appear to be very +clean in the crossroads.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan glanced down at his boots, all covered with mud; but that same +glance fell upon the shoes and stockings of the mercer, and it might have been +said they had been dipped in the same mud heap. Both were stained with splashes +of mud of the same appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Then a sudden idea crossed the mind of D’Artagnan. That little stout man, short +and elderly, that sort of lackey, dressed in dark clothes, treated without +ceremony by the men wearing swords who composed the escort, was Bonacieux +himself. The husband had presided at the abduction of his wife. +</p> + +<p> +A terrible inclination seized D’Artagnan to grasp the mercer by the throat and +strangle him; but, as we have said, he was a very prudent youth, and he +restrained himself. However, the revolution which appeared upon his countenance +was so visible that Bonacieux was terrified at it, and he endeavored to draw +back a step or two; but as he was standing before the half of the door which +was shut, the obstacle compelled him to keep his place. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but you are joking, my worthy man!” said D’Artagnan. “It appears to me +that if my boots need a sponge, your stockings and shoes stand in equal need of +a brush. May you not have been philandering a little also, Monsieur Bonacieux? +Oh, the devil! That’s unpardonable in a man of your age, and who besides, has +such a pretty wife as yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord! no,” said Bonacieux, “but yesterday I went to St. Mandé to make some +inquiries after a servant, as I cannot possibly do without one; and the roads +were so bad that I brought back all this mud, which I have not yet had time to +remove.” +</p> + +<p> +The place named by Bonacieux as that which had been the object of his journey +was a fresh proof in support of the suspicions D’Artagnan had conceived. +Bonacieux had named Mandé because Mandé was in an exactly opposite direction +from St. Cloud. This probability afforded him his first consolation. If +Bonacieux knew where his wife was, one might, by extreme means, force the +mercer to open his teeth and let his secret escape. The question, then, was how +to change this probability into a certainty. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, if I don’t stand upon ceremony,” said +D’Artagnan, “but nothing makes one so thirsty as want of sleep. I am parched +with thirst. Allow me to take a glass of water in your apartment; you know that +is never refused among neighbors.” +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for the permission of his host, D’Artagnan went quickly into +the house, and cast a rapid glance at the bed. It had not been used. Bonacieux +had not been abed. He had only been back an hour or two; he had accompanied his +wife to the place of her confinement, or else at least to the first relay. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Monsieur Bonacieux,” said D’Artagnan, emptying his glass, “that is all +I wanted of you. I will now go up into my apartment. I will make Planchet brush +my boots; and when he has done, I will, if you like, send him to you to brush +your shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +He left the mercer quite astonished at his singular farewell, and asking +himself if he had not been a little inconsiderate. +</p> + +<p> +At the top of the stairs he found Planchet in a great fright. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” cried Planchet, as soon as he perceived his master, “here is +more trouble. I thought you would never come in.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter now, Planchet?” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I give you a hundred, I give you a thousand times to guess, monsieur, the +visit I received in your absence.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“About half an hour ago, while you were at Monsieur de Tréville’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has been here? Come, speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Cavois.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Cavois?” +</p> + +<p> +“In person.” +</p> + +<p> +“The captain of the cardinal’s Guards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he come to arrest me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt that he did, monsieur, for all his wheedling manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he so sweet, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, he was all honey, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“He came, he said, on the part of his Eminence, who wished you well, and to beg +you to follow him to the Palais-Royal*.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* It was called the Palais-Cardinal before Richelieu gave it to the King. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you answer him?” +</p> + +<p> +“That the thing was impossible, seeing that you were not at home, as he could +see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what did he say then?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you must not fail to call upon him in the course of the day; and then he +added in a low voice, ‘Tell your master that his Eminence is very well disposed +toward him, and that his fortune perhaps depends upon this interview.’” +</p> + +<p> +“The snare is rather <i>maladroit</i> for the cardinal,” replied the young man, +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I saw the snare, and I answered you would be quite in despair on your +return. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where has he gone?’ asked Monsieur de Cavois. +</p> + +<p> +“‘To Troyes, in Champagne,’ I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And when did he set out?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yesterday evening.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet, my friend,” interrupted D’Artagnan, “you are really a precious +fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will understand, monsieur, I thought there would be still time, if you +wish, to see Monsieur de Cavois to contradict me by saying you were not yet +gone. The falsehood would then lie at my door, and as I am not a gentleman, I +may be allowed to lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be of good heart, Planchet, you shall preserve your reputation as a veracious +man. In a quarter of an hour we set off.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the advice I was about to give Monsieur; and where are we going, may I +ask, without being too curious?” +</p> + +<p> +<i>“Pardieu!</i> In the opposite direction to that which you said I was gone. +Besides, are you not as anxious to learn news of Grimaud, Mousqueton, and Bazin +as I am to know what has become of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” said Planchet, “and I will go as soon as you please. Indeed, I +think provincial air will suit us much better just now than the air of Paris. +So then—” +</p> + +<p> +“So then, pack up our luggage, Planchet, and let us be off. On my part, I will +go out with my hands in my pockets, that nothing may be suspected. You may join +me at the Hôtel des Gardes. By the way, Planchet, I think you are right with +respect to our host, and that he is decidedly a frightfully low wretch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur, you may take my word when I tell you anything. I am a +physiognomist, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan went out first, as had been agreed upon. Then, in order that he +might have nothing to reproach himself with, he directed his steps, for the +last time, toward the residences of his three friends. No news had been +received of them; only a letter, all perfumed and of an elegant writing in +small characters, had come for Aramis. D’Artagnan took charge of it. Ten +minutes afterward Planchet joined him at the stables of the Hôtel des Gardes. +D’Artagnan, in order that there might be no time lost, had saddled his horse +himself. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well,” said he to Planchet, when the latter added the portmanteau to +the equipment. “Now saddle the other three horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think, then, monsieur, that we shall travel faster with two horses +apiece?” said Planchet, with his shrewd air. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Monsieur Jester,” replied D’Artagnan; “but with our four horses we may +bring back our three friends, if we should have the good fortune to find them +living.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which is a great chance,” replied Planchet, “but we must not despair of the +mercy of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen!” said D’Artagnan, getting into his saddle. +</p> + +<p> +As they went from the Hôtel des Gardes, they separated, leaving the street at +opposite ends, one having to quit Paris by the Barrière de la Villette and the +other by the Barrière Montmartre, to meet again beyond St. Denis—a +strategic maneuver which, having been executed with equal punctuality, was +crowned with the most fortunate results. D’Artagnan and Planchet entered +Pierrefitte together. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet was more courageous, it must be admitted, by day than by night. His +natural prudence, however, never forsook him for a single instant. He had +forgotten not one of the incidents of the first journey, and he looked upon +everybody he met on the road as an enemy. It followed that his hat was forever +in his hand, which procured him some severe reprimands from D’Artagnan, who +feared that his excess of politeness would lead people to think he was the +lackey of a man of no consequence. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, whether the passengers were really touched by the urbanity of +Planchet or whether this time nobody was posted on the young man’s road, our +two travelers arrived at Chantilly without any accident, and alighted at the +tavern of Great St. Martin, the same at which they had stopped on their first +journey. +</p> + +<p> +The host, on seeing a young man followed by a lackey with two extra horses, +advanced respectfully to the door. Now, as they had already traveled eleven +leagues, D’Artagnan thought it time to stop, whether Porthos were or were not +in the inn. Perhaps it would not be prudent to ask at once what had become of +the Musketeer. The result of these reflections was that D’Artagnan, without +asking information of any kind, alighted, commended the horses to the care of +his lackey, entered a small room destined to receive those who wished to be +alone, and desired the host to bring him a bottle of his best wine and as good +a breakfast as possible—a desire which further corroborated the high +opinion the innkeeper had formed of the traveler at first sight. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was therefore served with miraculous celerity. The regiment of the +Guards was recruited among the first gentlemen of the kingdom; and D’Artagnan, +followed by a lackey, and traveling with four magnificent horses, despite the +simplicity of his uniform, could not fail to make a sensation. The host desired +himself to serve him; which D’Artagnan perceiving, ordered two glasses to be +brought, and commenced the following conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, my good host,” said D’Artagnan, filling the two glasses, “I asked +for a bottle of your best wine, and if you have deceived me, you will be +punished in what you have sinned; for seeing that I hate drinking by myself, +you shall drink with me. Take your glass, then, and let us drink. But what +shall we drink to, so as to avoid wounding any susceptibility? Let us drink to +the prosperity of your establishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Lordship does me much honor,” said the host, “and I thank you sincerely +for your kind wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“But don’t mistake,” said D’Artagnan, “there is more selfishness in my toast +than perhaps you may think—for it is only in prosperous establishments +that one is well received. In hôtels that do not flourish, everything is in +confusion, and the traveler is a victim to the embarrassments of his host. Now, +I travel a great deal, particularly on this road, and I wish to see all +innkeepers making a fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” said the host, “that this is not the first time I have had +the honor of seeing Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah, I have passed perhaps ten times through Chantilly, and out of the ten +times I have stopped three or four times at your house at least. Why I was here +only ten or twelve days ago. I was conducting some friends, Musketeers, one of +whom, by the by, had a dispute with a stranger—a man who sought a quarrel +with him, for I don’t know what.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so,” said the host; “I remember it perfectly. It is not Monsieur +Porthos that your Lordship means?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is my companion’s name. My God, my dear host, tell me if anything +has happened to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Lordship must have observed that he could not continue his journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to be sure, he promised to rejoin us, and we have seen nothing of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has done us the honor to remain here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, he had done you the honor to remain here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, in this house; and we are even a little uneasy—” +</p> + +<p> +“On what account?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of certain expenses he has contracted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but whatever expenses he may have incurred, I am sure he is in a +condition to pay them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur, you infuse genuine balm into my blood. We have made considerable +advances; and this very morning the surgeon declared that if Monsieur Porthos +did not pay him, he should look to me, as it was I who had sent for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos is wounded, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! You cannot tell me? Surely you ought to be able to tell me better than +any other person.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but in our situation we must not say all we know—particularly as we +have been warned that our ears should answer for our tongues.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, can I see Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, monsieur. Take the stairs on your right; go up the first flight and +knock at Number One. Only warn him that it is you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I do that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, monsieur, some mischief might happen to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what kind, in the name of wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos may imagine you belong to the house, and in a fit of passion +might run his sword through you or blow out your brains.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you done to him, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have asked him for money.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! Ah, I can understand that. It is a demand that Porthos takes very +ill when he is not in funds; but I know he must be so at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“We thought so, too, monsieur. As our house is carried on very regularly, and +we make out our bills every week, at the end of eight days we presented our +account; but it appeared we had chosen an unlucky moment, for at the first word +on the subject, he sent us to all the devils. It is true he had been playing +the day before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Playing the day before! And with whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, who can say, monsieur? With some gentleman who was traveling this way, +to whom he proposed a game of <i>lansquenet</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it, then, and the foolish fellow lost all he had?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even to his horse, monsieur; for when the gentleman was about to set out, we +perceived that his lackey was saddling Monsieur Porthos’s horse, as well as his +master’s. When we observed this to him, he told us all to trouble ourselves +about our own business, as this horse belonged to him. We also informed +Monsieur Porthos of what was going on; but he told us we were scoundrels to +doubt a gentleman’s word, and that as he had said the horse was his, it must be +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Porthos all over,” murmured D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued the host, “I replied that as from the moment we seemed not +likely to come to a good understanding with respect to payment, I hoped that he +would have at least the kindness to grant the favor of his custom to my brother +host of the Golden Eagle; but Monsieur Porthos replied that, my house being the +best, he should remain where he was. This reply was too flattering to allow me +to insist on his departure. I confined myself then to begging him to give up +his chamber, which is the handsomest in the hôtel, and to be satisfied with a +pretty little room on the third floor; but to this Monsieur Porthos replied +that as he every moment expected his mistress, who was one of the greatest +ladies in the court, I might easily comprehend that the chamber he did me the +honor to occupy in my house was itself very mean for the visit of such a +personage. Nevertheless, while acknowledging the truth of what he said, I +thought proper to insist; but without even giving himself the trouble to enter +into any discussion with me, he took one of his pistols, laid it on his table, +day and night, and said that at the first word that should be spoken to him +about removing, either within the house or out of it, he would blow out the +brains of the person who should be so imprudent as to meddle with a matter +which only concerned himself. Since that time, monsieur, nobody entered his +chamber but his servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Mousqueton is here, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, monsieur. Five days after your departure, he came back, and in a very +bad condition, too. It appears that he had met with disagreeableness, likewise, +on his journey. Unfortunately, he is more nimble than his master; so that for +the sake of his master, he puts us all under his feet, and as he thinks we +might refuse what he asked for, he takes all he wants without asking at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is,” said D’Artagnan, “I have always observed a great degree of +intelligence and devotedness in Mousqueton.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is possible, monsieur; but suppose I should happen to be brought in +contact, even four times a year, with such intelligence and +devotedness—why, I should be a ruined man!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, for Porthos will pay you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said the host, in a doubtful tone. +</p> + +<p> +“The favorite of a great lady will not be allowed to be inconvenienced for such +a paltry sum as he owes you.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I durst say what I believe on that head—” +</p> + +<p> +“What you believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ought rather to say, what I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“And even what I am sure of.” +</p> + +<p> +“And of what are you so sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would say that I know this great lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“You?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur, if I could believe I might trust in your discretion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak! By the word of a gentleman, you shall have no cause to repent of your +confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur, you understand that uneasiness makes us do many things.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing which was not right in the character of a creditor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos gave us a note for his duchess, ordering us to put it in the +post. This was before his servant came. As he could not leave his chamber, it +was necessary to charge us with this commission.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Instead of putting the letter in the post, which is never safe, I took +advantage of the journey of one of my lads to Paris, and ordered him to convey +the letter to this duchess himself. This was fulfilling the intentions of +Monsieur Porthos, who had desired us to be so careful of this letter, was it +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur, do you know who this great lady is?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I have heard Porthos speak of her, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know who this pretended duchess is? +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat to you, I don’t know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she is the old wife of a procurator* of the Châtelet, monsieur, named +Madame Coquenard, who, although she is at least fifty, still gives herself +jealous airs. It struck me as very odd that a princess should live in the Rue +aux Ours.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Attorney +</p> + +<p> +“But how do you know all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she flew into a great passion on receiving the letter, saying that +Monsieur Porthos was a weathercock, and that she was sure it was for some woman +he had received this wound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he been wounded, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good Lord! What have I said?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said that Porthos had received a sword cut.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but he has forbidden me so strictly to say so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Zounds, monsieur! Because he had boasted that he would perforate the stranger +with whom you left him in dispute; whereas the stranger, on the contrary, in +spite of all his rodomontades quickly threw him on his back. As Monsieur +Porthos is a very boastful man, he insists that nobody shall know he has +received this wound except the duchess, whom he endeavored to interest by an +account of his adventure.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a wound that confines him to his bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, and a master stroke, too, I assure you. Your friend’s soul must stick +tight to his body.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you there, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I followed them from curiosity, so that I saw the combat without the +combatants seeing me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what took place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! The affair was not long, I assure you. They placed themselves on guard; +the stranger made a feint and a lunge, and that so rapidly that when Monsieur +Porthos came to the <i>parade</i>, he had already three inches of steel in his +breast. He immediately fell backward. The stranger placed the point of his +sword at his throat; and Monsieur Porthos, finding himself at the mercy of his +adversary, acknowledged himself conquered. Upon which the stranger asked his +name, and learning that it was Porthos, and not D’Artagnan, he assisted him to +rise, brought him back to the hôtel, mounted his horse, and disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it was with Monsieur d’Artagnan this stranger meant to quarrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you know what has become of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I never saw him until that moment, and have not seen him since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; I know all that I wish to know. Porthos’s chamber is, you say, on +the first story, Number One?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, the handsomest in the inn—a chamber that I could have let +ten times over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Be satisfied,” said D’Artagnan, laughing, “Porthos will pay you with the +money of the Duchess Coquenard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur, procurator’s wife or duchess, if she will but loosen her +pursestrings, it will be all the same; but she positively answered that she was +tired of the exigencies and infidelities of Monsieur Porthos, and that she +would not send him a denier.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you convey this answer to your guest?” +</p> + +<p> +“We took good care not to do that; he would have found in what fashion we had +executed his commission.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that he still expects his money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lord, yes, monsieur! Yesterday he wrote again; but it was his servant who +this time put the letter in the post.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you say the procurator’s wife is old and ugly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty at least, monsieur, and not at all handsome, according to Pathaud’s +account.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, you may be quite at ease; she will soon be softened. Besides, +Porthos cannot owe you much.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, not much! Twenty good pistoles, already, without reckoning the doctor. He +denies himself nothing; it may easily be seen he has been accustomed to live +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; if his mistress abandons him, he will find friends, I will answer +for it. So, my dear host, be not uneasy, and continue to take all the care of +him that his situation requires.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur has promised me not to open his mouth about the procurator’s wife, +and not to say a word of the wound?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s agreed; you have my word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he would kill me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid; he is not so much of a devil as he appears.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, D’Artagnan went upstairs, leaving his host a little better +satisfied with respect to two things in which he appeared to be very much +interested—his debt and his life. +</p> + +<p> +At the top of the stairs, upon the most conspicuous door of the corridor, was +traced in black ink a gigantic number “1.” D’Artagnan knocked, and upon the +bidding to come in which came from inside, he entered the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos was in bed, and was playing a game at <i>lansquenet</i> with +Mousqueton, to keep his hand in; while a spit loaded with partridges was +turning before the fire, and on each side of a large chimneypiece, over two +chafing dishes, were boiling two stewpans, from which exhaled a double odor of +rabbit and fish stews, rejoicing to the smell. In addition to this he perceived +that the top of a wardrobe and the marble of a commode were covered with empty +bottles. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight of his friend, Porthos uttered a loud cry of joy; and Mousqueton, +rising respectfully, yielded his place to him, and went to give an eye to the +two stewpans, of which he appeared to have the particular inspection. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>pardieu!</i> Is that you?” said Porthos to D’Artagnan. “You are right +welcome. Excuse my not coming to meet you; but,” added he, looking at +D’Artagnan with a certain degree of uneasiness, “you know what has happened to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has the host told you nothing, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I asked after you, and came up as soon as I could.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos seemed to breathe more freely. +</p> + +<p> +“And what has happened to you, my dear Porthos?” continued D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, on making a thrust at my adversary, whom I had already hit three times, +and whom I meant to finish with the fourth, I put my foot on a stone, slipped, +and strained my knee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Honor! Luckily for the rascal, for I should have left him dead on the spot, I +assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what has became of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know; he had enough, and set off without waiting for the rest. But +you, my dear D’Artagnan, what has happened to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“So that this strain of the knee,” continued D’Artagnan, “my dear Porthos, +keeps you in bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, that’s all. I shall be about again in a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not have yourself conveyed to Paris? You must be cruelly bored +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was my intention; but, my dear friend, I have one thing to confess to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is that as I was cruelly bored, as you say, and as I had the seventy-five +pistoles in my pocket which you had distributed to me, in order to amuse myself +I invited a gentleman who was traveling this way to walk up, and proposed a +cast of dice. He accepted my challenge, and, my faith, my seventy-five pistoles +passed from my pocket to his, without reckoning my horse, which he won into the +bargain. But you, my dear D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you expect, my dear Porthos; a man is not privileged in all ways,” +said D’Artagnan. “You know the proverb ‘Unlucky at play, lucky in love.’ You +are too fortunate in your love for play not to take its revenge. What +consequence can the reverses of fortune be to you? Have you not, happy rogue +that you are—have you not your duchess, who cannot fail to come to your +aid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, my dear D’Artagnan, with what ill luck I play,” replied +Porthos, with the most careless air in the world. “I wrote to her to send me +fifty louis or so, of which I stood absolutely in need on account of my +accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she must be at her country seat, for she has not answered me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; so I yesterday addressed another epistle to her, still more pressing than +the first. But you are here, my dear fellow, let us speak of you. I confess I +began to be very uneasy on your account.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your host behaves very well toward you, as it appears, my dear Porthos,” +said D’Artagnan, directing the sick man’s attention to the full stewpans and +the empty bottles. +</p> + +<p> +“So, so,” replied Porthos. “Only three or four days ago the impertinent +jackanapes gave me his bill, and I was forced to turn both him and his bill out +of the door; so that I am here something in the fashion of a conqueror, holding +my position, as it were, my conquest. So you see, being in constant fear of +being forced from that position, I am armed to the teeth.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” said D’Artagnan, laughing, “it appears to me that from time to time +you must make <i>sorties</i>.” And he again pointed to the bottles and the +stewpans. +</p> + +<p> +“Not I, unfortunately!” said Porthos. “This miserable strain confines me to my +bed; but Mousqueton forages, and brings in provisions. Friend Mousqueton, you +see that we have a reinforcement, and we must have an increase of supplies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mousqueton,” said D’Artagnan, “you must render me a service.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must give your recipe to Planchet. I may be besieged in my turn, and I +shall not be sorry for him to be able to let me enjoy the same advantages with +which you gratify your master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, monsieur! There is nothing more easy,” said Mousqueton, with a modest +air. “One only needs to be sharp, that’s all. I was brought up in the country, +and my father in his leisure time was something of a poacher.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did he do the rest of his time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, he carried on a trade which I have always thought satisfactory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“As it was a time of war between the Catholics and the Huguenots, and as he saw +the Catholics exterminate the Huguenots and the Huguenots exterminate the +Catholics—all in the name of religion—he adopted a mixed belief +which permitted him to be sometimes Catholic, sometimes a Huguenot. Now, he was +accustomed to walk with his fowling piece on his shoulder, behind the hedges +which border the roads, and when he saw a Catholic coming alone, the Protestant +religion immediately prevailed in his mind. He lowered his gun in the direction +of the traveler; then, when he was within ten paces of him, he commenced a +conversation which almost always ended by the traveler’s abandoning his purse +to save his life. It goes without saying that when he saw a Huguenot coming, he +felt himself filled with such ardent Catholic zeal that he could not understand +how, a quarter of an hour before, he had been able to have any doubts upon the +superiority of our holy religion. For my part, monsieur, I am Catholic—my +father, faithful to his principles, having made my elder brother a Huguenot.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was the end of this worthy man?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of the most unfortunate kind, monsieur. One day he was surprised in a +lonely road between a Huguenot and a Catholic, with both of whom he had before +had business, and who both knew him again; so they united against him and +hanged him on a tree. Then they came and boasted of their fine exploit in the +cabaret of the next village, where my brother and I were drinking.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you do?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“We let them tell their story out,” replied Mousqueton. “Then, as in leaving +the cabaret they took different directions, my brother went and hid himself on +the road of the Catholic, and I on that of the Huguenot. Two hours after, all +was over; we had done the business of both, admiring the foresight of our poor +father, who had taken the precaution to bring each of us up in a different +religion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must allow, as you say, your father was a very intelligent fellow. And +you say in his leisure moments the worthy man was a poacher?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, and it was he who taught me to lay a snare and ground a line. +The consequence is that when I saw our laborers, which did not at all suit two +such delicate stomachs as ours, I had recourse to a little of my old trade. +While walking near the wood of Monsieur le Prince, I laid a few snares in the +runs; and while reclining on the banks of his Highness’s pieces of water, I +slipped a few lines into his fish ponds. So that now, thanks be to God, we do +not want, as Monsieur can testify, for partridges, rabbits, carp or +eels—all light, wholesome food, suitable for the sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the wine,” said D’Artagnan, “who furnishes the wine? Your host?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, yes and no.” +</p> + +<p> +“How yes and no?” +</p> + +<p> +“He furnishes it, it is true, but he does not know that he has that honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain yourself, Mousqueton; your conversation is full of instructive +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is it, monsieur. It has so chanced that I met with a Spaniard in my +peregrinations who had seen many countries, and among them the New World.” +</p> + +<p> +“What connection can the New World have with the bottles which are on the +commode and the wardrobe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, monsieur, everything will come in its turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“This Spaniard had in his service a lackey who had accompanied him in his +voyage to Mexico. This lackey was my compatriot; and we became the more +intimate from there being many resemblances of character between us. We loved +sporting of all kinds better than anything; so that he related to me how in the +plains of the Pampas the natives hunt the tiger and the wild bull with simple +running nooses which they throw to a distance of twenty or thirty paces the end +of a cord with such nicety; but in face of the proof I was obliged to +acknowledge the truth of the recital. My friend placed a bottle at the distance +of thirty paces, and at each cast he caught the neck of the bottle in his +running noose. I practiced this exercise, and as nature has endowed me with +some faculties, at this day I can throw the lasso with any man in the world. +Well, do you understand, monsieur? Our host has a well-furnished cellar the key +of which never leaves him; only this cellar has a ventilating hole. Now through +this ventilating hole I throw my lasso, and as I now know in which part of the +cellar is the best wine, that’s my point for sport. You see, monsieur, what the +New World has to do with the bottles which are on the commode and the wardrobe. +Now, will you taste our wine, and without prejudice say what you think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, my friend, thank you; unfortunately, I have just breakfasted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “arrange the table, Mousqueton, and while we breakfast, +D’Artagnan will relate to us what has happened to him during the ten days since +he left us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +While Porthos and Mousqueton were breakfasting, with the appetites of +convalescents and with that brotherly cordiality which unites men in +misfortune, D’Artagnan related how Aramis, being wounded, was obliged to stop +at Crèvecœur, how he had left Athos fighting at Amiens with four men who +accused him of being a coiner, and how he, D’Artagnan, had been forced to run +the Comtes de Wardes through the body in order to reach England. +</p> + +<p> +But there the confidence of D’Artagnan stopped. He only added that on his +return from Great Britain he had brought back four magnificent horses—one +for himself, and one for each of his companions; then he informed Porthos that +the one intended for him was already installed in the stable of the tavern. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Planchet entered, to inform his master that the horses were +sufficiently refreshed and that it would be possible to sleep at Clermont. +</p> + +<p> +As D’Artagnan was tolerably reassured with regard to Porthos, and as he was +anxious to obtain news of his two other friends, he held out his hand to the +wounded man, and told him he was about to resume his route in order to continue +his researches. For the rest, as he reckoned upon returning by the same route +in seven or eight days, if Porthos were still at the Great St. Martin, he would +call for him on his way. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos replied that in all probability his sprain would not permit him to +depart yet awhile. Besides, it was necessary he should stay at Chantilly to +wait for the answer from his duchess. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan wished that answer might be prompt and favorable; and having again +recommended Porthos to the care of Mousqueton, and paid his bill to the host, +he resumed his route with Planchet, already relieved of one of his led horses. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>Chapter XXVI.<br/> +ARAMIS AND HIS THESIS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or +of his procurator’s wife. Our Béarnais was a prudent lad, however young he +might be. Consequently he had appeared to believe all that the vainglorious +Musketeer had told him, convinced that no friendship will hold out against a +surprised secret. Besides, we feel always a sort of mental superiority over +those whose lives we know better than they suppose. In his projects of intrigue +for the future, and determined as he was to make his three friends the +instruments of his fortune, D’Artagnan was not sorry at getting into his grasp +beforehand the invisible strings by which he reckoned upon moving them. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed upon his heart. He +thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieux who was to have paid him the +price of his devotedness; but let us hasten to say that this sadness possessed +the young man less from the regret of the happiness he had missed, than from +the fear he entertained that some serious misfortune had befallen the poor +woman. For himself, he had no doubt she was a victim of the cardinal’s +vengeance; and, as was well known, the vengeance of his Eminence was terrible. +How he had found grace in the eyes of the minister, he did not know; but +without doubt M. de Cavois would have revealed this to him if the captain of +the Guards had found him at home. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing makes time pass more quickly or more shortens a journey than a thought +which absorbs in itself all the faculties of the organization of him who +thinks. External existence then resembles a sleep of which this thought is the +dream. By its influence, time has no longer measure, space has no longer +distance. We depart from one place, and arrive at another, that is all. Of the +interval passed, nothing remains in the memory but a vague mist in which a +thousand confused images of trees, mountains, and landscapes are lost. It was +as a prey to this hallucination that D’Artagnan traveled, at whatever pace his +horse pleased, the six or eight leagues that separated Chantilly from +Crèvecœur, without his being able to remember on his arrival in the village +any of the things he had passed or met with on the road. +</p> + +<p> +There only his memory returned to him. He shook his head, perceived the cabaret +at which he had left Aramis, and putting his horse to the trot, he shortly +pulled up at the door. +</p> + +<p> +This time it was not a host but a hostess who received him. D’Artagnan was a +physiognomist. His eye took in at a glance the plump, cheerful countenance of +the mistress of the place, and he at once perceived there was no occasion for +dissembling with her, or of fearing anything from one blessed with such a +joyous physiognomy. +</p> + +<p> +“My good dame,” asked D’Artagnan, “can you tell me what has become of one of my +friends, whom we were obliged to leave here about a dozen days ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“A handsome young man, three- or four-and-twenty years old, mild, amiable, and +well made?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is he—wounded in the shoulder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so. Well, monsieur, he is still here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>pardieu!</i> My dear dame,” said D’Artagnan, springing from his horse, +and throwing the bridle to Planchet, “you restore me to life; where is this +dear Aramis? Let me embrace him, I am in a hurry to see him again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, monsieur, but I doubt whether he can see you at this moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so? Has he a lady with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jesus! What do you mean by that? Poor lad! No, monsieur, he has not a lady +with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom is he, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the curate of Montdidier and the superior of the Jesuits of Amiens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” cried D’Artagnan, “is the poor fellow worse, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, quite the contrary; but after his illness grace touched him, and +he determined to take orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it!” said D’Artagnan, “I had forgotten that he was only a Musketeer for +a time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur still insists upon seeing him?” +</p> + +<p> +“More than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur has only to take the right-hand staircase in the courtyard, and +knock at Number Five on the second floor.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan walked quickly in the direction indicated, and found one of those +exterior staircases that are still to be seen in the yards of our old-fashioned +taverns. But there was no getting at the place of sojourn of the future abbé; +the defiles of the chamber of Aramis were as well guarded as the gardens of +Armida. Bazin was stationed in the corridor, and barred his passage with the +more intrepidity that, after many years of trial, Bazin found himself near a +result of which he had ever been ambitious. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had always been to serve a churchman; and he +awaited with impatience the moment, always in the future, when Aramis would +throw aside the uniform and assume the cassock. The daily-renewed promise of +the young man that the moment would not long be delayed, had alone kept him in +the service of a Musketeer—a service in which, he said, his soul was in +constant jeopardy. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin was then at the height of joy. In all probability, this time his master +would not retract. The union of physical pain with moral uneasiness had +produced the effect so long desired. Aramis, suffering at once in body and +mind, had at length fixed his eyes and his thoughts upon religion, and he had +considered as a warning from heaven the double accident which had happened to +him; that is to say, the sudden disappearance of his mistress and the wound in +his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +It may be easily understood that in the present disposition of his master +nothing could be more disagreeable to Bazin than the arrival of D’Artagnan, +which might cast his master back again into that vortex of mundane affairs +which had so long carried him away. He resolved, then, to defend the door +bravely; and as, betrayed by the mistress of the inn, he could not say that +Aramis was absent, he endeavored to prove to the newcomer that it would be the +height of indiscretion to disturb his master in his pious conference, which had +commenced with the morning and would not, as Bazin said, terminate before +night. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan took very little heed of the eloquent discourse of M. Bazin; and +as he had no desire to support a polemic discussion with his friend’s valet, he +simply moved him out of the way with one hand, and with the other turned the +handle of the door of Number Five. The door opened, and D’Artagnan went into +the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of round flat cap, not +much unlike a <i>calotte</i>, was seated before an oblong table, covered with +rolls of paper and enormous volumes in folio. At his right hand was placed the +superior of the Jesuits, and on his left the curate of Montdidier. The curtains +were half drawn, and only admitted the mysterious light calculated for beatific +reveries. All the mundane objects that generally strike the eye on entering the +room of a young man, particularly when that young man is a Musketeer, had +disappeared as if by enchantment; and for fear, no doubt, that the sight of +them might bring his master back to ideas of this world, Bazin had laid his +hands upon sword, pistols, plumed hat, and embroideries and laces of all kinds +and sorts. In their stead D’Artagnan thought he perceived in an obscure corner +a discipline cord suspended from a nail in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +At the noise made by D’Artagnan in entering, Aramis lifted up his head, and +beheld his friend; but to the great astonishment of the young man, the sight of +him did not produce much effect upon the Musketeer, so completely was his mind +detached from the things of this world. +</p> + +<p> +“Good day, dear D’Artagnan,” said Aramis; “believe me, I am glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I delighted to see you,” said D’Artagnan, “although I am not yet sure +that it is Aramis I am speaking to.” +</p> + +<p> +“To himself, my friend, to himself! But what makes you doubt it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid I had made a mistake in the chamber, and that I had found my way +into the apartment of some churchman. Then another error seized me on seeing +you in company with these gentlemen—I was afraid you were dangerously +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men in black, who guessed D’Artagnan’s meaning, darted at him a glance +which might have been thought threatening; but D’Artagnan took no heed of it. +</p> + +<p> +“I disturb you, perhaps, my dear Aramis,” continued D’Artagnan, “for by what I +see, I am led to believe that you are confessing to these gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis colored imperceptibly. “You disturb me? Oh, quite the contrary, dear +friend, I swear; and as a proof of what I say, permit me to declare I am +rejoiced to see you safe and sound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, he’ll come round,” thought D’Artagnan; “that’s not bad!” +</p> + +<p> +“This gentleman, who is my friend, has just escaped from a serious danger,” +continued Aramis, with unction, pointing to D’Artagnan with his hand, and +addressing the two ecclesiastics. +</p> + +<p> +“Praise God, monsieur,” replied they, bowing together. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not failed to do so, your Reverences,” replied the young man, returning +their salutation. +</p> + +<p> +“You arrive in good time, dear D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “and by taking part in +our discussion may assist us with your intelligence. Monsieur the Principal of +Amiens, Monsieur the Curate of Montdidier, and I are arguing certain +theological questions in which we have been much interested; I shall be +delighted to have your opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“The opinion of a swordsman can have very little weight,” replied D’Artagnan, +who began to be uneasy at the turn things were taking, “and you had better be +satisfied, believe me, with the knowledge of these gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men in black bowed in their turn. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” replied Aramis, “your opinion will be very valuable. The +question is this: Monsieur the Principal thinks that my thesis ought to be +dogmatic and didactic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your thesis! Are you then making a thesis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” replied the Jesuit. “In the examination which precedes +ordination, a thesis is always a requisite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ordination!” cried D’Artagnan, who could not believe what the hostess and +Bazin had successively told him; and he gazed, half stupefied, upon the three +persons before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” continued Aramis, taking the same graceful position in his easy chair +that he would have assumed in bed, and complacently examining his hand, which +was as white and plump as that of a woman, and which he held in the air to +cause the blood to descend, “now, as you have heard, D’Artagnan, Monsieur the +Principal is desirous that my thesis should be dogmatic, while I, for my part, +would rather it should be ideal. This is the reason why Monsieur the Principal +has proposed to me the following subject, which has not yet been treated upon, +and in which I perceive there is matter for magnificent +elaboration—‘<i>Utraque manus in benedicendo clericis inferioribus +necessaria est</i>.’” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, whose erudition we are well acquainted with, evinced no more +interest on hearing this quotation than he had at that of M. de Tréville in +allusion to the gifts he pretended that D’Artagnan had received from the Duke +of Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means,” resumed Aramis, that he might perfectly understand, “‘The two +hands are indispensable for priests of the inferior orders, when they bestow +the benediction.’” +</p> + +<p> +“An admirable subject!” cried the Jesuit. +</p> + +<p> +“Admirable and dogmatic!” repeated the curate, who, about as strong as +D’Artagnan with respect to Latin, carefully watched the Jesuit in order to keep +step with him, and repeated his words like an echo. +</p> + +<p> +As to D’Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to the enthusiasm of the two +men in black. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, admirable! <i>prorsus admirabile!</i>” continued Aramis; “but which +requires a profound study of both the Scriptures and the Fathers. Now, I have +confessed to these learned ecclesiastics, and that in all humility, that the +duties of mounting guard and the service of the king have caused me to neglect +study a little. I should find myself, therefore, more at my ease, <i>facilius +natans</i>, in a subject of my own choice, which would be to these hard +theological questions what morals are to metaphysics in philosophy.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan began to be tired, and so did the curate. +</p> + +<p> +“See what an exordium!” cried the Jesuit. +</p> + +<p> +“Exordium,” repeated the curate, for the sake of saying something. +“<i>Quemadmodum inter cœlorum immensitatem</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis cast a glance upon D’Artagnan to see what effect all this produced, and +found his friend gaping enough to split his jaws. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us speak French, my father,” said he to the Jesuit; “Monsieur d’Artagnan +will enjoy our conversation better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied D’Artagnan; “I am fatigued with reading, and all this Latin +confuses me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while the curate, greatly +delighted, turned upon D’Artagnan a look full of gratitude. “Well, let us see +what is to be derived from this gloss. Moses, the servant of God—he was +but a servant, please to understand—Moses blessed with the hands; he held +out both his arms while the Hebrews beat their enemies, and then he blessed +them with his two hands. Besides, what does the Gospel say? <i>Imponite +manus</i>, and not <i>manum</i>—place the <i>hands</i>, not the +<i>hand</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Place the <i>hands</i>,” repeated the curate, with a gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“St. Peter, on the contrary, of whom the Popes are the successors,” continued +the Jesuit; “<i>porrige digitos</i>—present the fingers. Are you there, +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Certes</i>,” replied Aramis, in a pleased tone, “but the thing is subtle.” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>fingers</i>,” resumed the Jesuit, “St. Peter blessed with the +<i>fingers</i>. The Pope, therefore blesses with the fingers. And with how many +fingers does he bless? With <i>three</i> fingers, to be sure—one for the +Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost.” +</p> + +<p> +All crossed themselves. D’Artagnan thought it was proper to follow this +example. +</p> + +<p> +“The Pope is the successor of St. Peter, and represents the three divine +powers; the rest—<i>ordines inferiores</i>—of the ecclesiastical +hierarchy bless in the name of the holy archangels and angels. The most humble +clerks such as our deacons and sacristans, bless with holy water sprinklers, +which resemble an infinite number of blessing fingers. There is the subject +simplified. <i>Argumentum omni denudatum ornamento</i>. I could make of that +subject two volumes the size of this,” continued the Jesuit; and in his +enthusiasm he struck a St. Chrysostom in folio, which made the table bend +beneath its weight. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Certes</i>,” said Aramis, “I do justice to the beauties of this thesis; but +at the same time I perceive it would be overwhelming for me. I had chosen this +text—tell me, dear D’Artagnan, if it is not to your taste—‘<i>Non +inutile est desiderium in oblatione</i>’; that is, ‘A little regret is not +unsuitable in an offering to the Lord.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop there!” cried the Jesuit, “for that thesis touches closely upon heresy. +There is a proposition almost like it in the <i>Augustinus</i> of the +heresiarch Jansenius, whose book will sooner or later be burned by the hands of +the executioner. Take care, my young friend. You are inclining toward false +doctrines, my young friend; you will be lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be lost,” said the curate, shaking his head sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortal rock. You face +the insinuations of the Pelagians and the semi-Pelagians.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my Reverend—” replied Aramis, a little amazed by the shower of +arguments that poured upon his head. +</p> + +<p> +“How will you prove,” continued the Jesuit, without allowing him time to speak, +“that we ought to regret the world when we offer ourselves to God? Listen to +this dilemma: God is God, and the world is the devil. To regret the world is to +regret the devil; that is my conclusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is mine also,” said the curate. +</p> + +<p> +“But, for heaven’s sake—” resumed Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Desideras diabolum</i>, unhappy man!” cried the Jesuit. +</p> + +<p> +“He regrets the devil! Ah, my young friend,” added the curate, groaning, “do +not regret the devil, I implore you!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan felt himself bewildered. It seemed to him as though he were in a +madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw. He was, however, forced to +hold his tongue from not comprehending half the language they employed. +</p> + +<p> +“But listen to me, then,” resumed Aramis with politeness mingled with a little +impatience. “I do not say I regret; no, I will never pronounce that sentence, +which would not be orthodox.” +</p> + +<p> +The Jesuit raised his hands toward heaven, and the curate did the same. +</p> + +<p> +“No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace to offer to the Lord +only that with which we are perfectly disgusted! Don’t you think so, +D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, indeed,” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +The Jesuit and the curate quite started from their chairs. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the point of departure; it is a syllogism. The world is not wanting in +attractions. I quit the world; then I make a sacrifice. Now, the Scripture says +positively, ‘Make a sacrifice unto the Lord.’” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” said his antagonists. +</p> + +<p> +“And then,” said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as he rubbed his +hands to make them white, “and then I made a certain <i>rondeau</i> upon it +last year, which I showed to Monsieur Voiture, and that great man paid me a +thousand compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“A <i>rondeau!</i>” said the Jesuit, disdainfully. +</p> + +<p> +“A <i>rondeau!</i>” said the curate, mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“Repeat it! Repeat it!” cried D’Artagnan; “it will make a little change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, for it is religious,” replied Aramis; “it is theology in verse.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is,” said Aramis, with a little look of diffidence, which, however, +was not exempt from a shade of hypocrisy: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Vous qui pleurez un passé plein de charmes,<br/> + Et qui trainez des jours infortunés,<br/> + Tous vos malheurs se verront terminés,<br/> +Quand à Dieu seul vous offrirez vos larmes,<br/> + Vous qui pleurez!” +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“You who weep for pleasures fled,<br/> + While dragging on a life of care,<br/> + All your woes will melt in air,<br/> +If to God your tears are shed,<br/> + You who weep!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan and the curate appeared pleased. The Jesuit persisted in his +opinion. “Beware of a profane taste in your theological style. What says +Augustine on this subject: ‘<i>Severus sit clericorum verbo</i>.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, let the sermon be clear,” said the curate. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” hastily interrupted the Jesuit, on seeing that his acolyte was going +astray, “now your thesis would please the ladies; it would have the success of +one of Monsieur Patru’s pleadings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please God!” cried Aramis, transported. +</p> + +<p> +“There it is,” cried the Jesuit; “the world still speaks within you in a loud +voice, <i>altisimâ voce</i>. You follow the world, my young friend, and I +tremble lest grace prove not efficacious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied, my reverend father, I can answer for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mundane presumption!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know myself, Father; my resolution is irrevocable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you persist in continuing that thesis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel myself called upon to treat that, and no other. I will see about the +continuation of it, and tomorrow I hope you will be satisfied with the +corrections I shall have made in consequence of your advice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Work slowly,” said the curate; “we leave you in an excellent tone of mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the ground is all sown,” said the Jesuit, “and we have not to fear that +one portion of the seed may have fallen upon stone, another upon the highway, +or that the birds of heaven have eaten the rest, <i>aves cœli comederunt +illam</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Plague stifle you and your Latin!” said D’Artagnan, who began to feel all his +patience exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, my son,” said the curate, “till tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till tomorrow, rash youth,” said the Jesuit. “You promise to become one of the +lights of the Church. Heaven grant that this light prove not a devouring fire!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who for an hour past had been gnawing his nails with impatience, +was beginning to attack the quick. +</p> + +<p> +The two men in black rose, bowed to Aramis and D’Artagnan, and advanced toward +the door. Bazin, who had been standing listening to all this controversy with a +pious jubilation, sprang toward them, took the breviary of the curate and the +missal of the Jesuit, and walked respectfully before them to clear their way. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis conducted them to the foot of the stairs, and then immediately came up +again to D’Artagnan, whose senses were still in a state of confusion. +</p> + +<p> +When left alone, the two friends at first kept an embarrassed silence. It +however became necessary for one of them to break it first, and as D’Artagnan +appeared determined to leave that honor to his companion, Aramis said, “you see +that I am returned to my fundamental ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, efficacious grace has touched you, as that gentleman said just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, these plans of retreat have been formed for a long time. You have often +heard me speak of them, have you not, my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but I confess I always thought you jested.” +</p> + +<p> +“With such things! Oh, D’Artagnan!” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! Why, people jest with death.” +</p> + +<p> +“And people are wrong, D’Artagnan; for death is the door which leads to +perdition or to salvation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granted; but if you please, let us not theologize, Aramis. You must have had +enough for today. As for me, I have almost forgotten the little Latin I have +ever known. Then I confess to you that I have eaten nothing since ten o’clock +this morning, and I am devilish hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will dine directly, my friend; only you must please to remember that this +is Friday. Now, on such a day I can neither eat flesh nor see it eaten. If you +can be satisfied with my dinner—it consists of cooked tetragones and +fruits.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by tetragones?” asked D’Artagnan, uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean spinach,” replied Aramis; “but on your account I will add some eggs, +and that is a serious infraction of the rule—for eggs are meat, since +they engender chickens.” +</p> + +<p> +“This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put up with it for +the sake of remaining with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am grateful to you for the sacrifice,” said Aramis; “but if your body be not +greatly benefited by it, be assured your soul will.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? What will our two +friends say? What will Monsieur de Tréville say? They will treat you as a +deserter, I warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it. I deserted the Church for the world, +for you know that I forced myself when I became a Musketeer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? I know nothing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know I quit the seminary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is my story, then. Besides, the Scriptures say, ‘Confess yourselves to +one another,’ and I confess to you, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I give you absolution beforehand. You see I am a good sort of a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not jest about holy things, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, then, I listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days I should have +been twenty. I was about to become an abbé, and all was arranged. One evening I +went, according to custom, to a house which I frequented with much pleasure: +when one is young, what can be expected?—one is weak. An officer who saw +me, with a jealous eye, reading the <i>Lives of the Saints</i> to the mistress +of the house, entered suddenly and without being announced. That evening I had +translated an episode of Judith, and had just communicated my verses to the +lady, who gave me all sorts of compliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was +reading them a second time with me. Her pose, which I must admit was rather +free, wounded this officer. He said nothing; but when I went out he followed, +and quickly came up with me. ‘Monsieur the Abbé,’ said he, ‘do you like blows +with a cane?’ ‘I cannot say, monsieur,’ answered I; ‘no one has ever dared to +give me any.’ ‘Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbé! If you venture +again into the house in which I have met you this evening, I will dare it +myself.’ I really think I must have been frightened. I became very pale; I felt +my legs fail me; I sought for a reply, but could find none—I was silent. +The officer waited for his reply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a +laugh, turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house. I returned to the +seminary. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have remarked, my dear +D’Artagnan. The insult was terrible, and although unknown to the rest of the +world, I felt it live and fester at the bottom of my heart. I informed my +superiors that I did not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and +at my request the ceremony was postponed for a year. I sought out the best +fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him to take a lesson every +day, and every day for a year I took that lesson. Then, on the anniversary of +the day on which I had been insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the +costume of a cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and to +which I knew my man was invited. It was in the Rue des France-Bourgeois, close +to La Force. As I expected, my officer was there. I went up to him as he was +singing a love ditty and looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him +exactly in the middle of the second couplet. ‘Monsieur,’ said I, ‘does it still +displease you that I should frequent a certain house of La Rue Payenne? And +would you still cane me if I took it into my head to disobey you? The officer +looked at me with astonishment, and then said, ‘What is your business with me, +monsieur? I do not know you.’ ‘I am,’ said I, ‘the little abbé who reads +<i>Lives of the Saints</i>, and translates Judith into verse.’ ‘Ah, ah! I +recollect now,’ said the officer, in a jeering tone; ‘well, what do you want +with me?’ ‘I want you to spare time to take a walk with me.’ ‘Tomorrow morning, +if you like, with the greatest pleasure.’ ‘No, not tomorrow morning, if you +please, but immediately.’ ‘If you absolutely insist.’ ‘I do insist upon it.’ +‘Come, then. Ladies,’ said the officer, ‘do not disturb yourselves; allow me +time just to kill this gentleman, and I will return and finish the last +couplet.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the same spot where, a +year before, at the very same hour, he had paid me the compliment I have +related to you. It was a superb moonlight night. We immediately drew, and at +the first pass I laid him stark dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” continued Aramis, “as the ladies did not see the singer come back, and +as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a great sword wound through his body, +it was supposed that I had accommodated him thus; and the matter created some +scandal which obliged me to renounce the cassock for a time. Athos, whose +acquaintance I made about that period, and Porthos, who had in addition to my +lessons taught me some effective tricks of fence, prevailed upon me to solicit +the uniform of a Musketeer. The king entertained great regard for my father, +who had fallen at the siege of Arras, and the uniform was granted. You may +understand that the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of the +Church.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What has happened to you +today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?” +</p> + +<p> +“This wound, my dear D’Artagnan, has been a warning to me from heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“This wound? Bah, it is now nearly healed, and I am sure it is not that which +gives you the most pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then?” said Aramis, blushing. +</p> + +<p> +“You have one at heart, Aramis, one deeper and more painful—a wound made +by a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The eye of Aramis kindled in spite of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said he, dissembling his emotion under a feigned carelessness, “do not +talk of such things, and suffer love pains? <i>Vanitas vanitatum!</i> According +to your idea, then, my brain is turned. And for whom—for some +<i>grisette</i>, some chambermaid with whom I have trifled in some garrison? +Fie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my dear Aramis, but I thought you carried your eyes higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Higher? And who am I, to nourish such ambition? A poor Musketeer, a beggar, an +unknown—who hates slavery, and finds himself ill-placed in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis, Aramis!” cried D’Artagnan, looking at his friend with an air of doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliations and sorrows,” +continued he, becoming still more melancholy; “all the ties which attach him to +life break in the hand of man, particularly the golden ties. Oh, my dear +D’Artagnan,” resumed Aramis, giving to his voice a slight tone of bitterness, +“trust me! Conceal your wounds when you have any; silence is the last joy of +the unhappy. Beware of giving anyone the clue to your griefs; the curious suck +our tears as flies suck the blood of a wounded hart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my dear Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, in his turn heaving a profound sigh, +“that is my story you are relating!” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; a woman whom I love, whom I adore, has just been torn from me by force. I +do not know where she is or whither they have conducted her. She is perhaps a +prisoner; she is perhaps dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but you have at least this consolation, that you can say to yourself she +has not quit you voluntarily, that if you learn no news of her, it is because +all communication with you is interdicted; while I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied Aramis, “nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you renounce the world, then, forever; that is a settled thing—a +resolution registered!” +</p> + +<p> +“Forever! You are my friend today; tomorrow you will be no more to me than a +shadow, or rather, even, you will no longer exist. As for the world, it is a +sepulcher and nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! All this is very sad which you tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you? My vocation commands me; it carries me away.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan smiled, but made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis continued, “And yet, while I do belong to the earth, I wish to speak of +you—of our friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on my part,” said D’Artagnan, “I wished to speak of you, but I find you so +completely detached from everything! To love you cry, ‘Fie! Friends are +shadows! The world is a sepulcher!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, you will find it so yourself,” said Aramis, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let us say no more about it,” said D’Artagnan; “and let us burn +this letter, which, no doubt, announces to you some fresh infidelity of your +<i>grisette</i> or your chambermaid.” +</p> + +<p> +“What letter?” cried Aramis, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“A letter which was sent to your abode in your absence, and which was given to +me for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But from whom is that letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, from some heartbroken waiting woman, some desponding <i>grisette;</i> from +Madame de Chevreuse’s chambermaid, perhaps, who was obliged to return to Tours +with her mistress, and who, in order to appear smart and attractive, stole some +perfumed paper, and sealed her letter with a duchess’s coronet.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold! I must have lost it,” said the young man maliciously, pretending to +search for it. “But fortunately the world is a sepulcher; the men, and +consequently the women, are but shadows, and love is a sentiment to which you +cry, ‘Fie! Fie!’” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, D’Artagnan,” cried Aramis, “you are killing me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here it is at last!” said D’Artagnan, as he drew the letter from his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis made a bound, seized the letter, read it, or rather devoured it, his +countenance radiant. +</p> + +<p> +“This same waiting maid seems to have an agreeable style,” said the messenger, +carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, D’Artagnan, thanks!” cried Aramis, almost in a state of delirium. “She +was forced to return to Tours; she is not faithless; she still loves me! Come, +my friend, come, let me embrace you. Happiness almost stifles me!” +</p> + +<p> +The two friends began to dance around the venerable St. Chrysostom, kicking +about famously the sheets of the thesis, which had fallen on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Bazin entered with the spinach and the omelet. +</p> + +<p> +“Be off, you wretch!” cried Aramis, throwing his skullcap in his face. “Return +whence you came; take back those horrible vegetables, and that poor kickshaw! +Order a larded hare, a fat capon, mutton leg dressed with garlic, and four +bottles of old Burgundy.” +</p> + +<p> +Bazin, who looked at his master, without comprehending the cause of this +change, in a melancholy manner, allowed the omelet to slip into the spinach, +and the spinach onto the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Now this is the moment to consecrate your existence to the King of kings,” +said D’Artagnan, “if you persist in offering him a civility. <i>Non inutile +desiderium oblatione</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to the devil with your Latin. Let us drink, my dear D’Artagnan, +<i>morbleu!</i> Let us drink while the wine is fresh! Let us drink heartily, +and while we do so, tell me a little of what is going on in the world yonder.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>Chapter XXVII.<br/> +THE WIFE OF ATHOS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">W</span><span +class="dropspan">e</span> have now to search for Athos,” said D’Artagnan to the +vivacious Aramis, when he had informed him of all that had passed since their +departure from the capital, and an excellent dinner had made one of them forget +his thesis and the other his fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?” asked Aramis. +“Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword so skillfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt. Nobody has a higher opinion of the courage and skill of Athos than I +have; but I like better to hear my sword clang against lances than against +staves. I fear lest Athos should have been beaten down by serving men. Those +fellows strike hard, and don’t leave off in a hurry. This is why I wish to set +out again as soon as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try to accompany you,” said Aramis, “though I scarcely feel in a +condition to mount on horseback. Yesterday I undertook to employ that cord +which you see hanging against the wall, but pain prevented my continuing the +pious exercise.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the first time I ever heard of anybody trying to cure gunshot wounds +with cat-o’-nine-tails; but you were ill, and illness renders the head weak, +therefore you may be excused.” +</p> + +<p> +“When do you mean to set out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow at daybreak. Sleep as soundly as you can tonight, and tomorrow, if +you can, we will take our departure together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till tomorrow, then,” said Aramis; “for iron-nerved as you are, you must need +repose.” +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, when D’Artagnan entered Aramis’s chamber, he found him at the +window. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith! I am admiring three magnificent horses which the stable boys are +leading about. It would be a pleasure worthy of a prince to travel upon such +horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear Aramis, you may enjoy that pleasure, for one of those three +horses is yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, bah! Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whichever of the three you like, I have no preference.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the rich caparison, is that mine, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“You laugh, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have left off laughing, now that you speak French.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, those rich holsters, that velvet housing, that saddle studded with +silver—are they all for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“For you and nobody else, as the horse which paws the ground is mine, and the +other horse, which is caracoling, belongs to Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Peste!</i> They are three superb animals!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad they please you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it must have been the king who made you such a present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly it was not the cardinal; but don’t trouble yourself whence they +come, think only that one of the three is your property.” +</p> + +<p> +“I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is yours!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heaven! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I could mount him with +thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsome stirrups! <i>Holà</i>, Bazin, +come here this minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless. +</p> + +<p> +“That last order is useless,” interrupted D’Artagnan; “there are loaded pistols +in your holsters.” +</p> + +<p> +Bazin sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy,” said D’Artagnan; “people of all +conditions gain the kingdom of heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur was already such a good theologian,” said Bazin, almost weeping; “he +might have become a bishop, and perhaps a cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but my poor Bazin, reflect a little. Of what use is it to be a +churchman, pray? You do not avoid going to war by that means; you see, the +cardinal is about to make the next campaign, helm on head and partisan in hand. +And Monsieur de Nogaret de la Valette, what do you say of him? He is a cardinal +likewise. Ask his lackey how often he has had to prepare lint of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” sighed Bazin. “I know it, monsieur; everything is turned topsy-turvy in +the world nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +While this dialogue was going on, the two young men and the poor lackey +descended. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold my stirrup, Bazin,” cried Aramis; and Aramis sprang into the saddle with +his usual grace and agility, but after a few vaults and curvets of the noble +animal his rider felt his pains come on so insupportably that he turned pale +and became unsteady in his seat. D’Artagnan, who, foreseeing such an event, had +kept his eye on him, sprang toward him, caught him in his arms, and assisted +him to his chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, my dear Aramis, take care of yourself,” said he; “I will go +alone in search of Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a man of brass,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have good luck, that is all. But how do you mean to pass your time till +I come back? No more theses, no more glosses upon the fingers or upon +benedictions, hey?” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis smiled. “I will make verses,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I dare say; verses perfumed with the odor of the billet from the +attendant of Madame de Chevreuse. Teach Bazin prosody; that will console him. +As to the horse, ride him a little every day, and that will accustom you to his +maneuvers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, make yourself easy on that head,” replied Aramis. “You will find me ready +to follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +They took leave of each other, and in ten minutes, after having commended his +friend to the cares of the hostess and Bazin, D’Artagnan was trotting along in +the direction of Amiens. +</p> + +<p> +How was he going to find Athos? Should he find him at all? The position in +which he had left him was critical. He probably had succumbed. This idea, while +darkening his brow, drew several sighs from him, and caused him to formulate to +himself a few vows of vengeance. Of all his friends, Athos was the eldest, and +the least resembling him in appearance, in his tastes and sympathies. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he entertained a marked preference for this gentleman. The noble and +distinguished air of Athos, those flashes of greatness which from time to time +broke out from the shade in which he voluntarily kept himself, that unalterable +equality of temper which made him the most pleasant companion in the world, +that forced and cynical gaiety, that bravery which might have been termed blind +if it had not been the result of the rarest coolness—such qualities +attracted more than the esteem, more than the friendship of D’Artagnan; they +attracted his admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, when placed beside M. de Tréville, the elegant and noble courtier, +Athos in his most cheerful days might advantageously sustain a comparison. He +was of middle height; but his person was so admirably shaped and so well +proportioned that more than once in his struggles with Porthos he had overcome +the giant whose physical strength was proverbial among the Musketeers. His +head, with piercing eyes, a straight nose, a chin cut like that of Brutus, had +altogether an indefinable character of grandeur and grace. His hands, of which +he took little care, were the despair of Aramis, who cultivated his with almond +paste and perfumed oil. The sound of his voice was at once penetrating and +melodious; and then, that which was inconceivable in Athos, who was always +retiring, was that delicate knowledge of the world and of the usages of the +most brilliant society—those manners of a high degree which appeared, as +if unconsciously to himself, in his least actions. +</p> + +<p> +If a repast were on foot, Athos presided over it better than any other, placing +every guest exactly in the rank which his ancestors had earned for him or that +he had made for himself. If a question in heraldry were started, Athos knew all +the noble families of the kingdom, their genealogy, their alliances, their +coats of arms, and the origin of them. Etiquette had no minutiæ unknown to +him. He knew what were the rights of the great land owners. He was profoundly +versed in hunting and falconry, and had one day when conversing on this great +art astonished even Louis XIII. himself, who took a pride in being considered a +past master therein. +</p> + +<p> +Like all the great nobles of that period, Athos rode and fenced to perfection. +But still further, his education had been so little neglected, even with +respect to scholastic studies, so rare at this time among gentlemen, that he +smiled at the scraps of Latin which Aramis sported and which Porthos pretended +to understand. Two or three times, even, to the great astonishment of his +friends, he had, when Aramis allowed some rudimental error to escape him, +replaced a verb in its right tense and a noun in its case. Besides, his probity +was irreproachable, in an age in which soldiers compromised so easily with +their religion and their consciences, lovers with the rigorous delicacy of our +era, and the poor with God’s Seventh Commandment. This Athos, then, was a very +extraordinary man. +</p> + +<p> +And yet this nature so distinguished, this creature so beautiful, this essence +so fine, was seen to turn insensibly toward material life, as old men turn +toward physical and moral imbecility. Athos, in his hours of gloom—and +these hours were frequent—was extinguished as to the whole of the +luminous portion of him, and his brilliant side disappeared as into profound +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Then the demigod vanished; he remained scarcely a man. His head hanging down, +his eye dull, his speech slow and painful, Athos would look for hours together +at his bottle, his glass, or at Grimaud, who, accustomed to obey him by signs, +read in the faint glance of his master his least desire, and satisfied it +immediately. If the four friends were assembled at one of these moments, a +word, thrown forth occasionally with a violent effort, was the share Athos +furnished to the conversation. In exchange for his silence Athos drank enough +for four, and without appearing to be otherwise affected by wine than by a more +marked constriction of the brow and by a deeper sadness. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, whose inquiring disposition we are acquainted with, had +not—whatever interest he had in satisfying his curiosity on this +subject—been able to assign any cause for these fits, or for the periods +of their recurrence. Athos never received any letters; Athos never had concerns +which all his friends did not know. +</p> + +<p> +It could not be said that it was wine which produced this sadness; for in truth +he only drank to combat this sadness, which wine however, as we have said, +rendered still darker. This excess of bilious humor could not be attributed to +play; for unlike Porthos, who accompanied the variations of chance with songs +or oaths, Athos when he won remained as unmoved as when he lost. He had been +known, in the circle of the Musketeers, to win in one night three thousand +pistoles; to lose them even to the gold-embroidered belt for gala days, win all +this again with the addition of a hundred louis, without his beautiful eyebrow +being heightened or lowered half a line, without his hands losing their pearly +hue, without his conversation, which was cheerful that evening, ceasing to be +calm and agreeable. +</p> + +<p> +Neither was it, as with our neighbors, the English, an atmospheric influence +which darkened his countenance; for the sadness generally became more intense +toward the fine season of the year. June and July were the terrible months with +Athos. +</p> + +<p> +For the present he had no anxiety. He shrugged his shoulders when people spoke +of the future. His secret, then, was in the past, as had often been vaguely +said to D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +This mysterious shade, spread over his whole person, rendered still more +interesting the man whose eyes or mouth, even in the most complete +intoxication, had never revealed anything, however skillfully questions had +been put to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” thought D’Artagnan, “poor Athos is perhaps at this moment dead, and +dead by my fault—for it was I who dragged him into this affair, of which +he did not know the origin, of which he is ignorant of the result, and from +which he can derive no advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without reckoning, monsieur,” added Planchet to his master’s audibly expressed +reflections, “that we perhaps owe our lives to him. Do you remember how he +cried, ‘On, D’Artagnan, on, I am taken’? And when he had discharged his two +pistols, what a terrible noise he made with his sword! One might have said that +twenty men, or rather twenty mad devils, were fighting.” +</p> + +<p> +These words redoubled the eagerness of D’Artagnan, who urged his horse, though +he stood in need of no incitement, and they proceeded at a rapid pace. About +eleven o’clock in the morning they perceived Amiens, and at half past eleven +they were at the door of the cursed inn. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had often meditated against the perfidious host one of those hearty +vengeances which offer consolation while they are hoped for. He entered the +hostelry with his hat pulled over his eyes, his left hand on the pommel of the +sword, and cracking his whip with his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember me?” said he to the host, who advanced to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not that honor, monseigneur,” replied the latter, his eyes dazzled by +the brilliant style in which D’Artagnan traveled. +</p> + +<p> +“What, you don’t know me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you done with that +gentleman against whom you had the audacity, about twelve days ago, to make an +accusation of passing false money?” +</p> + +<p> +The host became as pale as death; for D’Artagnan had assumed a threatening +attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after his master. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur, do not mention it!” cried the host, in the most pitiable +voice imaginable. “Ah, monseigneur, how dearly have I paid for that fault, +unhappy wretch as I am!” +</p> + +<p> +“That gentleman, I say, what has become of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Deign to listen to me, monseigneur, and be merciful! Sit down, in mercy!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, mute with anger and anxiety, took a seat in the threatening +attitude of a judge. Planchet glared fiercely over the back of his armchair. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the story, monseigneur,” resumed the trembling host; “for I now +recollect you. It was you who rode off at the moment I had that unfortunate +difference with the gentleman you speak of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was I; so you may plainly perceive that you have no mercy to expect if +you do not tell me the whole truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Condescend to listen to me, and you shall know all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had been warned by the authorities that a celebrated coiner of bad money +would arrive at my inn, with several of his companions, all disguised as Guards +or Musketeers. Monseigneur, I was furnished with a description of your horses, +your lackeys, your countenances—nothing was omitted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, go on!” said D’Artagnan, who quickly understood whence such an exact +description had come. +</p> + +<p> +“I took then, in conformity with the orders of the authorities, who sent me a +reinforcement of six men, such measures as I thought necessary to get +possession of the persons of the pretended coiners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again!” said D’Artagnan, whose ears chafed terribly under the repetition of +this word <i>coiners</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, monseigneur, for saying such things, but they form my excuse. The +authorities had terrified me, and you know that an innkeeper must keep on good +terms with the authorities.” +</p> + +<p> +“But once again, that gentleman—where is he? What has become of him? Is +he dead? Is he living?” +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, monseigneur, we are coming to it. There happened then that which you +know, and of which your precipitate departure,” added the host, with an +acuteness that did not escape D’Artagnan, “appeared to authorize the issue. +That gentleman, your friend, defended himself desperately. His lackey, who, by +an unforeseen piece of ill luck, had quarreled with the officers, disguised as +stable lads—” +</p> + +<p> +“Miserable scoundrel!” cried D’Artagnan, “you were all in the plot, then! And I +really don’t know what prevents me from exterminating you all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, monseigneur, we were not in the plot, as you will soon see. Monsieur +your friend (pardon for not calling him by the honorable name which no doubt he +bears, but we do not know that name), Monsieur your friend, having disabled two +men with his pistols, retreated fighting with his sword, with which he disabled +one of my men, and stunned me with a blow of the flat side of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You villain, will you finish?” cried D’Artagnan, “Athos—what has become +of Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“While fighting and retreating, as I have told Monseigneur, he found the door +of the cellar stairs behind him, and as the door was open, he took out the key, +and barricaded himself inside. As we were sure of finding him there, we left +him alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said D’Artagnan, “you did not really wish to kill; you only wished to +imprison him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! To imprison him, monseigneur? Why, he imprisoned himself, I swear to +you he did. In the first place he had made rough work of it; one man was killed +on the spot, and two others were severely wounded. The dead man and the two +wounded were carried off by their comrades, and I have heard nothing of either +of them since. As for myself, as soon as I recovered my senses I went to +Monsieur the Governor, to whom I related all that had passed, and asked, what I +should do with my prisoner. Monsieur the Governor was all astonishment. He told +me he knew nothing about the matter, that the orders I had received did not +come from him, and that if I had the audacity to mention his name as being +concerned in this disturbance he would have me hanged. It appears that I had +made a mistake, monsieur, that I had arrested the wrong person, and that he +whom I ought to have arrested had escaped.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Athos!” cried D’Artagnan, whose impatience was increased by the disregard +of the authorities, “Athos, where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“As I was anxious to repair the wrongs I had done the prisoner,” resumed the +innkeeper, “I took my way straight to the cellar in order to set him at +liberty. Ah, monsieur, he was no longer a man, he was a devil! To my offer of +liberty, he replied that it was nothing but a snare, and that before he came +out he intended to impose his own conditions. I told him very humbly—for +I could not conceal from myself the scrape I had got into by laying hands on +one of his Majesty’s Musketeers—I told him I was quite ready to submit to +his conditions. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In the first place,’ said he, ‘I wish my lackey placed with me, fully armed.’ +We hastened to obey this order; for you will please to understand, monsieur, we +were disposed to do everything your friend could desire. Monsieur Grimaud (he +told us his name, although he does not talk much)—Monsieur Grimaud, then, +went down to the cellar, wounded as he was; then his master, having admitted +him, barricaded the door afresh, and ordered us to remain quietly in our own +bar.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where is Athos now?” cried D’Artagnan. “Where is Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the cellar, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, you scoundrel! Have you kept him in the cellar all this time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Merciful heaven! No, monsieur! We keep him in the cellar! You do not know what +he is about in the cellar. Ah! If you could but persuade him to come out, +monsieur, I should owe you the gratitude of my whole life; I should adore you +as my patron saint!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he is there? I shall find him there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt you will, monsieur; he persists in remaining there. We every day +pass through the air hole some bread at the end of a fork, and some meat when +he asks for it; but alas! It is not of bread and meat of which he makes the +greatest consumption. I once endeavored to go down with two of my servants; but +he flew into terrible rage. I heard the noise he made in loading his pistols, +and his servant in loading his musketoon. Then, when we asked them what were +their intentions, the master replied that he had forty charges to fire, and +that he and his lackey would fire to the last one before he would allow a +single soul of us to set foot in the cellar. Upon this I went and complained to +the governor, who replied that I only had what I deserved, and that it would +teach me to insult honorable gentlemen who took up their abode in my house.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that since that time—” replied D’Artagnan, totally unable to refrain +from laughing at the pitiable face of the host. +</p> + +<p> +“So from that time, monsieur,” continued the latter, “we have led the most +miserable life imaginable; for you must know, monsieur, that all our provisions +are in the cellar. There is our wine in bottles, and our wine in casks; the +beer, the oil, and the spices, the bacon, and sausages. And as we are prevented +from going down there, we are forced to refuse food and drink to the travelers +who come to the house; so that our hostelry is daily going to ruin. If your +friend remains another week in my cellar I shall be a ruined man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And not more than justice, either, you ass! Could you not perceive by our +appearance that we were people of quality, and not coiners—say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, you are right,” said the host. “But, hark, hark! There he is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody has disturbed him, without doubt,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“But he must be disturbed,” cried the host; “Here are two English gentlemen +just arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the English like good wine, as you may know, monsieur; these have asked +for the best. My wife has perhaps requested permission of Monsieur Athos to go +into the cellar to satisfy these gentlemen; and he, as usual, has refused. Ah, +good heaven! There is the hullabaloo louder than ever!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, in fact, heard a great noise on the side next the cellar. He rose, +and preceded by the host wringing his hands, and followed by Planchet with his +musketoon ready for use, he approached the scene of action. +</p> + +<p> +The two gentlemen were exasperated; they had had a long ride, and were dying +with hunger and thirst. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is tyranny!” cried one of them, in very good French, though with a +foreign accent, “that this madman will not allow these good people access to +their own wine! Nonsense, let us break open the door, and if he is too far gone +in his madness, well, we will kill him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Softly, gentlemen!” said D’Artagnan, drawing his pistols from his belt, “you +will kill nobody, if you please!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, good!” cried the calm voice of Athos, from the other side of the door, +“let them just come in, these devourers of little children, and we shall see!” +</p> + +<p> +Brave as they appeared to be, the two English gentlemen looked at each other +hesitatingly. One might have thought there was in that cellar one of those +famished ogres—the gigantic heroes of popular legends, into whose cavern +nobody could force their way with impunity. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of silence; but at length the two Englishmen felt ashamed to +draw back, and the angrier one descended the five or six steps which led to the +cellar, and gave a kick against the door enough to split a wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, cocking his pistols, “I will take charge of the +one at the top; you look to the one below. Ah, gentlemen, you want battle; and +you shall have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” cried the hollow voice of Athos, “I can hear D’Artagnan, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried D’Artagnan, raising his voice in turn, “I am here, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, good, then,” replied Athos, “we will teach them, these door breakers!” +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen had drawn their swords, but they found themselves taken between +two fires. They still hesitated an instant; but, as before, pride prevailed, +and a second kick split the door from bottom to top. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand on one side, D’Artagnan, stand on one side,” cried Athos. “I am going to +fire!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” exclaimed D’Artagnan, whom reflection never abandoned, “gentlemen, +think of what you are about. Patience, Athos! You are running your heads into a +very silly affair; you will be riddled. My lackey and I will have three shots +at you, and you will get as many from the cellar. You will then have our +swords, with which, I can assure you, my friend and I can play tolerably well. +Let me conduct your business and my own. You shall soon have something to +drink; I give you my word.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there is any left,” grumbled the jeering voice of Athos. +</p> + +<p> +The host felt a cold sweat creep down his back. +</p> + +<p> +“How! ‘If there is any left!’” murmured he. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil! There must be plenty left,” replied D’Artagnan. “Be satisfied +of that; these two cannot have drunk all the cellar. Gentlemen, return your +swords to their scabbards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, provided you replace your pistols in your belt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly.” +</p> + +<p> +And D’Artagnan set the example. Then, turning toward Planchet, he made him a +sign to uncock his musketoon. +</p> + +<p> +The Englishmen, convinced of these peaceful proceedings, sheathed their swords +grumblingly. The history of Athos’s imprisonment was then related to them; and +as they were really gentlemen, they pronounced the host in the wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “go up to your room again; and in ten +minutes, I will answer for it, you shall have all you desire.” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishmen bowed and went upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I am alone, my dear Athos,” said D’Artagnan; “open the door, I beg of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Instantly,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Then was heard a great noise of fagots being removed and of the groaning of +posts; these were the counterscarps and bastions of Athos, which the besieged +himself demolished. +</p> + +<p> +An instant after, the broken door was removed, and the pale face of Athos +appeared, who with a rapid glance took a survey of the surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan threw himself on his neck and embraced him tenderly. He then tried +to draw him from his moist abode, but to his surprise he perceived that Athos +staggered. +</p> + +<p> +“You are wounded,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“I! Not at all. I am dead drunk, that’s all, and never did a man more strongly +set about getting so. By the Lord, my good host! I must at least have drunk for +my part a hundred and fifty bottles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy!” cried the host, “if the lackey has drunk only half as much as the +master, I am a ruined man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grimaud is a well-bred lackey. He would never think of faring in the same +manner as his master; he only drank from the cask. Hark! I don’t think he put +the faucet in again. Do you hear it? It is running now.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan burst into a laugh which changed the shiver of the host into a +burning fever. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, Grimaud appeared in his turn behind his master, with the +musketoon on his shoulder, and his head shaking. Like one of those drunken +satyrs in the pictures of Rubens. He was moistened before and behind with a +greasy liquid which the host recognized as his best olive oil. +</p> + +<p> +The four crossed the public room and proceeded to take possession of the best +apartment in the house, which D’Artagnan occupied with authority. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime the host and his wife hurried down with lamps into the cellar, +which had so long been interdicted to them and where a frightful spectacle +awaited them. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the fortifications through which Athos had made a breach in order to get +out, and which were composed of fagots, planks, and empty casks, heaped up +according to all the rules of the strategic art, they found, swimming in +puddles of oil and wine, the bones and fragments of all the hams they had +eaten; while a heap of broken bottles filled the whole left-hand corner of the +cellar, and a tun, the cock of which was left running, was yielding, by this +means, the last drop of its blood. “The image of devastation and death,” as the +ancient poet says, “reigned as over a field of battle.” +</p> + +<p> +Of fifty large sausages, suspended from the joists, scarcely ten remained. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lamentations of the host and hostess pierced the vault of the cellar. +D’Artagnan himself was moved by them. Athos did not even turn his head. +</p> + +<p> +To grief succeeded rage. The host armed himself with a spit, and rushed into +the chamber occupied by the two friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Some wine!” said Athos, on perceiving the host. +</p> + +<p> +“Some wine!” cried the stupefied host, “some wine? Why you have drunk more than +a hundred pistoles’ worth! I am a ruined man, lost, destroyed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah,” said Athos, “we were always dry.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you had been contented with drinking, well and good; but you have broken +all the bottles.” +</p> + +<p> +“You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was your fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“All my oil is lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here was obliged to +dress those you had inflicted on him.” +</p> + +<p> +“All my sausages are gnawed!” +</p> + +<p> +“There is an enormous quantity of rats in that cellar.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall pay me for all this,” cried the exasperated host. +</p> + +<p> +“Triple ass!” said Athos, rising; but he sank down again immediately. He had +tried his strength to the utmost. D’Artagnan came to his relief with his whip +in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The host drew back and burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“This will teach you,” said D’Artagnan, “to treat the guests God sends you in a +more courteous fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“God? Say the devil!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear friend,” said D’Artagnan, “if you annoy us in this manner we will all +four go and shut ourselves up in your cellar, and we will see if the mischief +is as great as you say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, gentlemen,” said the host, “I have been wrong. I confess it, but pardon to +every sin! You are gentlemen, and I am a poor innkeeper. You will have pity on +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if you speak in that way,” said Athos, “you will break my heart, and the +tears will flow from my eyes as the wine flowed from the cask. We are not such +devils as we appear to be. Come hither, and let us talk.” +</p> + +<p> +The host approached with hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Come hither, I say, and don’t be afraid,” continued Athos. “At the very moment +when I was about to pay you, I had placed my purse on the table.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“That purse contained sixty pistoles; where is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Deposited with the justice; they said it was bad money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; get me my purse back and keep the sixty pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Monseigneur knows very well that justice never lets go that which it once +lays hold of. If it were bad money, there might be some hopes; but +unfortunately, those were all good pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Manage the matter as well as you can, my good man; it does not concern me, the +more so as I have not a livre left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said D’Artagnan, “let us inquire further. Athos’s horse, where is +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the stable.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much is it worth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty pistoles at most.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“What,” cried Athos, “are you selling my horse—my Bajazet? And pray upon +what shall I make my campaign; upon Grimaud?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have brought you another,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Another?” +</p> + +<p> +“And a magnificent one!” cried the host. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, since there is another finer and younger, why, you may take the old one; +and let us drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked the host, quite cheerful again. +</p> + +<p> +“Some of that at the bottom, near the laths. There are twenty-five bottles of +it left; all the rest were broken by my fall. Bring six of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this man is a cask!” said the host, aside. “If he only remains here a +fortnight, and pays for what he drinks, I shall soon re-establish my business.” +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t forget,” said D’Artagnan, “to bring up four bottles of the same sort +for the two English gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Athos, “while they bring the wine, tell me, D’Artagnan, what +has become of the others, come!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related how he had found Porthos in bed with a strained knee, and +Aramis at a table between two theologians. As he finished, the host entered +with the wine ordered and a ham which, fortunately for him, had been left out +of the cellar. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well!” said Athos, filling his glass and that of his friend; “here’s to +Porthos and Aramis! But you, D’Artagnan, what is the matter with you, and what +has happened to you personally? You have a sad air.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” said D’Artagnan, “it is because I am the most unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Presently,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently! And why presently? Because you think I am drunk? D’Artagnan, +remember this! My ideas are never so clear as when I have had plenty of wine. +Speak, then, I am all ears.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related his adventure with Mme. Bonacieux. Athos listened to him +without a frown; and when he had finished, said, “Trifles, only trifles!” That +was his favorite word. +</p> + +<p> +“You always say <i>trifles</i>, my dear Athos!” said D’Artagnan, “and that +comes very ill from you, who have never loved.” +</p> + +<p> +The drink-deadened eye of Athos flashed out, but only for a moment; it became +as dull and vacant as before. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said he, quietly, “for my part I have never loved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Acknowledge, then, you stony heart,” said D’Artagnan, “that you are wrong to +be so hard upon us tender hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tender hearts! Pierced hearts!” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that love is a lottery in which he who wins, wins death! You are very +fortunate to have lost, believe me, my dear D’Artagnan. And if I have any +counsel to give, it is, always lose!” +</p> + +<p> +“She seemed to love me so!” +</p> + +<p> +“She <i>seemed</i>, did she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she <i>did</i> love me!” +</p> + +<p> +“You child, why, there is not a man who has not believed, as you do, that his +mistress loved him, and there lives not a man who has not been deceived by his +mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except you, Athos, who never had one.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Athos, after a moment’s silence, “that’s true! I never had +one! Let us drink!” +</p> + +<p> +“But then, philosopher that you are,” said D’Artagnan, “instruct me, support +me. I stand in need of being taught and consoled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Consoled for what?” +</p> + +<p> +“For my misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your misfortune is laughable,” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders; “I should +like to know what you would say if I were to relate to you a real tale of +love!” +</p> + +<p> +“Which has happened to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or one of my friends, what matters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell it, Athos, tell it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better if I drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drink and relate, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bad idea!” said Athos, emptying and refilling his glass. “The two things +agree marvelously well.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am all attention,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +Athos collected himself, and in proportion as he did so, D’Artagnan saw that he +became pale. He was at that period of intoxication in which vulgar drinkers +fall on the floor and go to sleep. He kept himself upright and dreamed, without +sleeping. This somnambulism of drunkenness had something frightful in it. +</p> + +<p> +“You particularly wish it?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“I pray for it,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Be it then as you desire. One of my friends—one of my friends, please to +observe, not myself,” said Athos, interrupting himself with a melancholy smile, +“one of the counts of my province—that is to say, of Berry—noble as +a Dandolo or a Montmorency, at twenty-five years of age fell in love with a +girl of sixteen, beautiful as fancy can paint. Through the ingenuousness of her +age beamed an ardent mind, not of the woman, but of the poet. She did not +please; she intoxicated. She lived in a small town with her brother, who was a +curate. Both had recently come into the country. They came nobody knew whence; +but when seeing her so lovely and her brother so pious, nobody thought of +asking whence they came. They were said, however, to be of good extraction. My +friend, who was seigneur of the country, might have seduced her, or taken her +by force, at his will—for he was master. Who would have come to the +assistance of two strangers, two unknown persons? Unfortunately he was an +honorable man; he married her. The fool! The ass! The idiot!” +</p> + +<p> +“How so, if he loved her?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” said Athos. “He took her to his château, and made her the first lady in +the province; and in justice it must be allowed that she supported her rank +becomingly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, one day when she was hunting with her husband,” continued Athos, in a +low voice, and speaking very quickly, “she fell from her horse and fainted. The +count flew to her to help, and as she appeared to be oppressed by her clothes, +he ripped them open with his poniard, and in so doing laid bare her shoulder. +D’Artagnan,” said Athos, with a maniacal burst of laughter, “guess what she had +on her shoulder.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I tell?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“A <i>fleur-de-lis</i>,” said Athos. “She was branded.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos emptied at a single draught the glass he held in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Horror!” cried D’Artagnan. “What do you tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Truth, my friend. The angel was a demon; the poor young girl had stolen the +sacred vessels from a church.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did the count do?” +</p> + +<p> +“The count was of the highest nobility. He had on his estates the rights of +high and low tribunals. He tore the dress of the countess to pieces; he tied +her hands behind her, and hanged her on a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens, Athos, a murder?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“No less,” said Athos, as pale as a corpse. “But methinks I need wine!” and he +seized by the neck the last bottle that was left, put it to his mouth, and +emptied it at a single draught, as he would have emptied an ordinary glass. +</p> + +<p> +Then he let his head sink upon his two hands, while D’Artagnan stood before +him, stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“That has cured me of beautiful, poetical, and loving women,” said Athos, after +a considerable pause, raising his head, and forgetting to continue the fiction +of the count. “God grant you as much! Let us drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she is dead?” stammered D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i>” said Athos. “But hold out your glass. Some ham, my boy, or we +can’t drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“And her brother?” added D’Artagnan, timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Her brother?” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the priest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I inquired after him for the purpose of hanging him likewise; but he was +beforehand with me, he had quit the curacy the night before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it ever known who this miserable fellow was?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was doubtless the first lover and accomplice of the fair lady. A worthy +man, who had pretended to be a curate for the purpose of getting his mistress +married, and securing her a position. He has been hanged and quartered, I +hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, my God!” cried D’Artagnan, quite stunned by the relation of this +horrible adventure. +</p> + +<p> +“Taste some of this ham, D’Artagnan; it is exquisite,” said Athos, cutting a +slice, which he placed on the young man’s plate. +</p> + +<p> +“What a pity it is there were only four like this in the cellar. I could have +drunk fifty bottles more.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan could no longer endure this conversation, which had made him +bewildered. Allowing his head to sink upon his two hands, he pretended to +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“These young fellows can none of them drink,” said Athos, looking at him with +pity, “and yet this is one of the best!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>Chapter XXVIII.<br/> +THE RETURN</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> was astounded by the terrible confidence of +Athos; yet many things appeared very obscure to him in this half revelation. In +the first place it had been made by a man quite drunk to one who was half +drunk; and yet, in spite of the incertainty which the vapor of three or four +bottles of Burgundy carries with it to the brain, D’Artagnan, when awaking on +the following morning, had all the words of Athos as present to his memory as +if they then fell from his mouth—they had been so impressed upon his +mind. All this doubt only gave rise to a more lively desire of arriving at a +certainty, and he went into his friend’s chamber with a fixed determination of +renewing the conversation of the preceding evening; but he found Athos quite +himself again—that is to say, the most shrewd and impenetrable of men. +Besides which, the Musketeer, after having exchanged a hearty shake of the hand +with him, broached the matter first. +</p> + +<p> +“I was pretty drunk yesterday, D’Artagnan,” said he, “I can tell that by my +tongue, which was swollen and hot this morning, and by my pulse, which was very +tremulous. I wager that I uttered a thousand extravagances.” +</p> + +<p> +While saying this he looked at his friend with an earnestness that embarrassed +him. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied D’Artagnan, “if I recollect well what you said, it was nothing +out of the common way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you surprise me. I thought I had told you a most lamentable story.” And he +looked at the young man as if he would read the bottom of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said D’Artagnan, “it appears that I was more drunk than you, since +I remember nothing of the kind.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos did not trust this reply, and he resumed; “you cannot have failed to +remark, my dear friend, that everyone has his particular kind of drunkenness, +sad or gay. My drunkenness is always sad, and when I am thoroughly drunk my +mania is to relate all the lugubrious stories which my foolish nurse inculcated +into my brain. That is my failing—a capital failing, I admit; but with +that exception, I am a good drinker.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos spoke this in so natural a manner that D’Artagnan was shaken in his +conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“It is that, then,” replied the young man, anxious to find out the truth, “it +is that, then, I remember as we remember a dream. We were speaking of hanging.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you see how it is,” said Athos, becoming still paler, but yet attempting +to laugh; “I was sure it was so—the hanging of people is my nightmare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” replied D’Artagnan. “I remember now; yes, it was about—stop a +minute—yes, it was about a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it,” replied Athos, becoming almost livid; “that is my grand story of +the fair lady, and when I relate that, I must be very drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that was it,” said D’Artagnan, “the story of a tall, fair lady, with blue +eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, who was hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +“By her husband, who was a nobleman of your acquaintance,” continued +D’Artagnan, looking intently at Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see how a man may compromise himself when he does not know what he +says,” replied Athos, shrugging his shoulders as if he thought himself an +object of pity. “I certainly never will get drunk again, D’Artagnan; it is too +bad a habit.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan remained silent; and then changing the conversation all at once, +Athos said: +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, I thank you for the horse you have brought me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it to your mind?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but it is not a horse for hard work.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken; I rode him nearly ten leagues in less than an hour and a +half, and he appeared no more distressed than if he had only made the tour of +the Place St. Sulpice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you begin to awaken my regret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Regret?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I have parted with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, here is the simple fact. This morning I awoke at six o’clock. You were +still fast asleep, and I did not know what to do with myself; I was still +stupid from our yesterday’s debauch. As I came into the public room, I saw one +of our Englishman bargaining with a dealer for a horse, his own having died +yesterday from bleeding. I drew near, and found he was bidding a hundred +pistoles for a chestnut nag. ‘<i>Pardieu</i>,’ said I, ‘my good gentleman, I +have a horse to sell, too.’ ‘Ay, and a very fine one! I saw him yesterday; your +friend’s lackey was leading him.’ ‘Do you think he is worth a hundred +pistoles?’ ‘Yes! Will you sell him to me for that sum?’ ‘No; but I will play +for him.’ ‘What?’ ‘At dice.’ No sooner said than done, and I lost the horse. +Ah, ah! But please to observe I won back the equipage,” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked much disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +“This vexes you?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must confess it does,” replied D’Artagnan. “That horse was to have +identified us in the day of battle. It was a pledge, a remembrance. Athos, you +have done wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear friend, put yourself in my place,” replied the Musketeer. “I was +hipped to death; and still further, upon my honor, I don’t like English horses. +If it is only to be recognized, why the saddle will suffice for that; it is +quite remarkable enough. As to the horse, we can easily find some excuse for +its disappearance. Why the devil! A horse is mortal; suppose mine had had the +glanders or the farcy?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan did not smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It vexes me greatly,” continued Athos, “that you attach so much importance to +these animals, for I am not yet at the end of my story.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else have you done.” +</p> + +<p> +“After having lost my own horse, nine against ten—see how near—I +formed an idea of staking yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but you stopped at the idea, I hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; for I put it in execution that very minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the consequence?” said D’Artagnan, in great anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“I threw, and I lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, my horse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your horse, seven against eight; a point short—you know the proverb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos, you are not in your right senses, I swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear lad, that was yesterday, when I was telling you silly stories, it was +proper to tell me that, and not this morning. I lost him then, with all his +appointments and furniture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, this is frightful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a minute; you don’t know all yet. I should make an excellent gambler if I +were not too hot-headed; but I was hot-headed, just as if I had been drinking. +Well, I was not hot-headed then—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but what else could you play for? You had nothing left?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, my friend; there was still that diamond left which sparkles on your +finger, and which I had observed yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“This diamond!” said D’Artagnan, placing his hand eagerly on his ring. +</p> + +<p> +“And as I am a connoisseur in such things, having had a few of my own once, I +estimated it at a thousand pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope,” said D’Artagnan, half dead with fright, “you made no mention of my +diamond?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, my dear friend, this diamond became our only resource; with +it I might regain our horses and their harnesses, and even money to pay our +expenses on the road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos, you make me tremble!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I mentioned your diamond then to my adversary, who had likewise remarked it. +What the devil, my dear, do you think you can wear a star from heaven on your +finger, and nobody observe it? Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, go on, my dear fellow!” said D’Artagnan; “for upon my honor, you will +kill me with your indifference.” +</p> + +<p> +“We divided, then, this diamond into ten parts of a hundred pistoles each.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are laughing at me, and want to try me!” said D’Artagnan, whom anger began +to take by the hair, as Minerva takes Achilles, in the <i>Iliad</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not jest, <i>mordieu!</i> I should like to have seen you in my place! +I had been fifteen days without seeing a human face, and had been left to +brutalize myself in the company of bottles.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was no reason for staking my diamond!” replied D’Artagnan, closing his +hand with a nervous spasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear the end. Ten parts of a hundred pistoles each, in ten throws, without +revenge; in thirteen throws I had lost all—in thirteen throws. The number +thirteen was always fatal to me; it was on the thirteenth of July that—” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ventrebleu!</i>” cried D’Artagnan, rising from the table, the story of the +present day making him forget that of the preceding one. +</p> + +<p> +“Patience!” said Athos; “I had a plan. The Englishman was an original; I had +seen him conversing that morning with Grimaud, and Grimaud had told me that he +had made him proposals to enter into his service. I staked Grimaud, the silent +Grimaud, divided into ten portions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what next?” said D’Artagnan, laughing in spite of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Grimaud himself, understand; and with the ten parts of Grimaud, which are not +worth a ducatoon, I regained the diamond. Tell me, now, if persistence is not a +virtue?” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith! But this is droll,” cried D’Artagnan, consoled, and holding his +sides with laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“You may guess, finding the luck turned, that I again staked the diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said D’Artagnan, becoming angry again. +</p> + +<p> +“I won back your harness, then your horse, then my harness, then my horse, and +then I lost again. In brief, I regained your harness and then mine. That’s +where we are. That was a superb throw, so I left off there.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan breathed as if the whole hostelry had been removed from his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Then the diamond is safe?” said he, timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Intact, my dear friend; besides the harness of your Bucephalus and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the use of harnesses without horses?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have an idea about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos, you make me shudder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me. You have not played for a long time, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have no inclination to play.” +</p> + +<p> +“Swear to nothing. You have not played for a long time, I said; you ought, +then, to have a good hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well; the Englishman and his companion are still here. I remarked that he +regretted the horse furniture very much. You appear to think much of your +horse. In your place I would stake the furniture against the horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he will not wish for only one harness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stake both, <i>pardieu!</i> I am not selfish, as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would do so?” said D’Artagnan, undecided, so strongly did the confidence +of Athos begin to prevail, in spite of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“On my honor, in one single throw.” +</p> + +<p> +“But having lost the horses, I am particularly anxious to preserve the +harnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stake your diamond, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“This? That’s another matter. Never, never!” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said Athos. “I would propose to you to stake Planchet, but as that +has already been done, the Englishman would not, perhaps, be willing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly, my dear Athos,” said D’Artagnan, “I should like better not to risk +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a pity,” said Athos, coolly. “The Englishman is overflowing with +pistoles. Good Lord, try one throw! One throw is soon made!” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I lose?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will win.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if I lose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will surrender the harnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have with you for one throw!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +Athos went in quest of the Englishman, whom he found in the stable, examining +the harnesses with a greedy eye. The opportunity was good. He proposed the +conditions—the two harnesses, either against one horse or a hundred +pistoles. The Englishman calculated fast; the two harnesses were worth three +hundred pistoles. He consented. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan threw the dice with a trembling hand, and turned up the number +three; his paleness terrified Athos, who, however, consented himself with +saying, “That’s a sad throw, comrade; you will have the horses fully equipped, +monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman, quite triumphant, did not even give himself the trouble to +shake the dice. He threw them on the table without looking at them, so sure was +he of victory; D’Artagnan turned aside to conceal his ill humor. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold, hold, hold!” said Athos, wit his quiet tone; “that throw of the dice is +extraordinary. I have not seen such a one four times in my life. Two aces!” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman looked, and was seized with astonishment. D’Artagnan looked, and +was seized with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” continued Athos, “four times only; once at the house of Monsieur Créquy; +another time at my own house in the country, in my château at—when I had +a château; a third time at Monsieur de Tréville’s where it surprised us all; +and the fourth time at a cabaret, where it fell to my lot, and where I lost a +hundred louis and a supper on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Monsieur takes his horse back again,” said the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is no revenge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our conditions said, ‘No revenge,’ you will please to recollect.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true; the horse shall be restored to your lackey, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“A moment,” said Athos; “with your permission, monsieur, I wish to speak a word +with my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say on.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos drew D’Artagnan aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Tempter, what more do you want with me?” said D’Artagnan. “You want me +to throw again, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I would wish you to reflect.” +</p> + +<p> +“On what?” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to take your horse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wrong, then. I would take the hundred pistoles. You know you have +staked the harnesses against the horse or a hundred pistoles, at your choice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I repeat, you are wrong. What is the use of one horse for us two? +I could not ride behind. We should look like the two sons of Aymon, who had +lost their brother. You cannot think of humiliating me by prancing along by my +side on that magnificent charger. For my part, I should not hesitate a moment; +I should take the hundred pistoles. We want money for our return to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am much attached to that horse, Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there again you are wrong. A horse slips and injures a joint; a horse +stumbles and breaks his knees to the bone; a horse eats out of a manger in +which a glandered horse has eaten. There is a horse, while on the contrary, the +hundred pistoles feed their master.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how shall we get back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon our lackey’s horses, <i>pardieu</i>. Anybody may see by our bearing that +we are people of condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty figures we shall cut on ponies while Aramis and Porthos caracole on +their steeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis! Porthos!” cried Athos, and laughed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked D’Artagnan, who did not at all comprehend the hilarity of +his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, nothing! Go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your advice, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“To take the hundred pistoles, D’Artagnan. With the hundred pistoles we can +live well to the end of the month. We have undergone a great deal of fatigue, +remember, and a little rest will do no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I rest? Oh, no, Athos. Once in Paris, I shall prosecute my search for that +unfortunate woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you may be assured that your horse will not be half so serviceable to +you for that purpose as good golden louis. Take the hundred pistoles, my +friend; take the hundred pistoles!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan only required one reason to be satisfied. This last reason appeared +convincing. Besides, he feared that by resisting longer he should appear +selfish in the eyes of Athos. He acquiesced, therefore, and chose the hundred +pistoles, which the Englishman paid down on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +They then determined to depart. Peace with the landlord, in addition to Athos’s +old horse, cost six pistoles. D’Artagnan and Athos took the nags of Planchet +and Grimaud, and the two lackeys started on foot, carrying the saddles on their +heads. +</p> + +<p> +However ill our two friends were mounted, they were soon far in advance of +their servants, and arrived at Crèvecœur. From a distance they perceived +Aramis, seated in a melancholy manner at his window, looking out, like Sister +Anne, at the dust in the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Holà</i>, Aramis! What the devil are you doing there?” cried the two +friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, is that you, D’Artagnan, and you, Athos?” said the young man. “I was +reflecting upon the rapidity with which the blessings of this world leave us. +My English horse, which has just disappeared amid a cloud of dust, has +furnished me with a living image of the fragility of the things of the earth. +Life itself may be resolved into three words: <i>Erat, est, fuit</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which means—” said D’Artagnan, who began to suspect the truth. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means that I have just been duped—sixty louis for a horse which by +the manner of his gait can do at least five leagues an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan and Athos laughed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “don’t be too angry with me, I beg. +Necessity has no law; besides, I am the person punished, as that rascally +horsedealer has robbed me of fifty louis, at least. Ah, you fellows are good +managers! You ride on our lackey’s horses, and have your own gallant steeds led +along carefully by hand, at short stages.” +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant a market cart, which some minutes before had appeared upon +the Amiens road, pulled up at the inn, and Planchet and Grimaud came out of it +with the saddles on their heads. The cart was returning empty to Paris, and the +two lackeys had agreed, for their transport, to slake the wagoner’s thirst +along the route. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” said Aramis, on seeing them arrive. “Nothing but saddles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now do you understand?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends, that’s exactly like me! I retained my harness by instinct. +<i>Holà</i>, Bazin! Bring my new saddle and carry it along with those of these +gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what have you done with your ecclesiastics?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, I invited them to a dinner the next day,” replied Aramis. +“They have some capital wine here—please to observe that in passing. I +did my best to make them drunk. Then the curate forbade me to quit my uniform, +and the Jesuit entreated me to get him made a Musketeer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a thesis?” cried D’Artagnan, “without a thesis? I demand the +suppression of the thesis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since then,” continued Aramis, “I have lived very agreeably. I have begun a +poem in verses of one syllable. That is rather difficult, but the merit in all +things consists in the difficulty. The matter is gallant. I will read you the +first canto. It has four hundred lines, and lasts a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, my dear Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, who detested verses almost as much +as he did Latin, “add to the merit of the difficulty that of the brevity, and +you are sure that your poem will at least have two merits.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will see,” continued Aramis, “that it breathes irreproachable passion. And +so, my friends, we return to Paris? Bravo! I am ready. We are going to rejoin +that good fellow, Porthos. So much the better. You can’t think how I have +missed him, the great simpleton. To see him so self-satisfied reconciles me +with myself. He would not sell his horse; not for a kingdom! I think I can see +him now, mounted upon his superb animal and seated in his handsome saddle. I am +sure he will look like the Great Mogul!” +</p> + +<p> +They made a halt for an hour to refresh their horses. Aramis discharged his +bill, placed Bazin in the cart with his comrades, and they set forward to join +Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +They found him up, less pale than when D’Artagnan left him after his first +visit, and seated at a table on which, though he was alone, was spread enough +for four persons. This dinner consisted of meats nicely dressed, choice wines, +and superb fruit. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>pardieu!</i>” said he, rising, “you come in the nick of time, +gentlemen. I was just beginning the soup, and you will dine with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” said D’Artagnan, “Mousqueton has not caught these bottles with his +lasso. Besides, here is a piquant <i>fricandeau</i> and a fillet of beef.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am recruiting myself,” said Porthos, “I am recruiting myself. Nothing +weakens a man more than these devilish strains. Did you ever suffer from a +strain, Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never! Though I remember, in our affair of the Rue Férou, I received a sword +wound which at the end of fifteen or eighteen days produced the same effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this dinner was not intended for you alone, Porthos?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Porthos, “I expected some gentlemen of the neighborhood, who have +just sent me word they could not come. You will take their places and I shall +not lose by the exchange. <i>Holà</i>, Mousqueton, seats, and order double the +bottles!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what we are eating here?” said Athos, at the end of ten minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i>” replied D’Artagnan, “for my part, I am eating veal garnished +with shrimps and vegetables.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I some lamb chops,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“And I a plain chicken,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“You are all mistaken, gentlemen,” answered Athos, gravely; “you are eating +horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eating what?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Horse!” said Aramis, with a grimace of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos alone made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, horse. Are we not eating a horse, Porthos? And perhaps his saddle, +therewith.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, gentlemen, I have kept the harness,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said Aramis, “we are all alike. One would think we had tipped the +wink.” +</p> + +<p> +“What could I do?” said Porthos. “This horse made my visitors ashamed of +theirs, and I don’t like to humiliate people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your duchess is still at the waters?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” replied Porthos. “And, my faith, the governor of the +province—one of the gentlemen I expected today—seemed to have such +a wish for him, that I gave him to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gave him?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“My God, yes, <i>gave</i>, that is the word,” said Porthos; “for the animal was +worth at least a hundred and fifty louis, and the stingy fellow would only give +me eighty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without the saddle?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, without the saddle.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will observe, gentlemen,” said Athos, “that Porthos has made the best +bargain of any of us.” +</p> + +<p> +And then commenced a roar of laughter in which they all joined, to the +astonishment of poor Porthos; but when he was informed of the cause of their +hilarity, he shared it vociferously according to his custom. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one comfort, we are all in cash,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for my part,” said Athos, “I found Aramis’s Spanish wine so good that I +sent on a hamper of sixty bottles of it in the wagon with the lackeys. That has +weakened my purse.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Aramis, “imagined that I had given almost my last sou to the +church of Montdidier and the Jesuits of Amiens, with whom I had made +engagements which I ought to have kept. I have ordered Masses for myself, and +for you, gentlemen, which will be said, gentlemen, for which I have not the +least doubt you will be marvelously benefited.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Porthos, “do you think my strain cost me nothing?—without +reckoning Mousqueton’s wound, for which I had to have the surgeon twice a day, +and who charged me double on account of that foolish Mousqueton having allowed +himself a ball in a part which people generally only show to an apothecary; so +I advised him to try never to get wounded there any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay!” said Athos, exchanging a smile with D’Artagnan and Aramis, “it is +very clear you acted nobly with regard to the poor lad; that is like a good +master.” +</p> + +<p> +“In short,” said Porthos, “when all my expenses are paid, I shall have, at +most, thirty crowns left.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I about ten pistoles,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then it appears that we are the Crœsuses of the society. How much have +you left of your hundred pistoles, D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of my hundred pistoles? Why, in the first place I gave you fifty.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that is true. I recollect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I paid the host six.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a brute of a host! Why did you give him six pistoles?” +</p> + +<p> +“You told me to give them to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true; I am too good-natured. In brief, how much remains?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-five pistoles,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Athos, taking some small change from his pocket, “I—” +</p> + +<p> +“You? Nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith! So little that it is not worth reckoning with the general stock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then, let us calculate how much we posses in all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty crowns.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-five.” +</p> + +<p> +“That makes in all?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Four hundred and seventy-five livres,” said D’Artagnan, who reckoned like +Archimedes. +</p> + +<p> +“On our arrival in Paris, we shall still have four hundred, besides the +harnesses,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“But our troop horses?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of the four horses of our lackeys we will make two for the masters, for +which we will draw lots. With the four hundred livres we will make the half of +one for one of the unmounted, and then we will give the turnings out of our +pockets to D’Artagnan, who has a steady hand, and will go and play in the first +gaming house we come to. There!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us dine, then,” said Porthos; “it is getting cold.” +</p> + +<p> +The friends, at ease with regard to the future, did honor to the repast, the +remains of which were abandoned to Mousqueton, Bazin, Planchet, and Grimaud. +</p> + +<p> +On arriving in Paris, D’Artagnan found a letter from M. de Tréville, which +informed him that, at his request, the king had promised that he should enter +the company of the Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +As this was the height of D’Artagnan’s worldly ambition—apart, be it well +understood, from his desire of finding Mme. Bonacieux—he ran, full of +joy, to seek his comrades, whom he had left only half an hour before, but whom +he found very sad and deeply preoccupied. They were assembled in council at the +residence of Athos, which always indicated an event of some gravity. M. de +Tréville had intimated to them his Majesty’s fixed intention to open the +campaign on the first of May, and they must immediately prepare their outfits. +</p> + +<p> +The four philosophers looked at one another in a state of bewilderment. M. de +Tréville never jested in matters relating to discipline. +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you reckon your outfit will cost?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we can scarcely say. We have made our calculations with Spartan economy, +and we each require fifteen hundred livres.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four times fifteen makes sixty—six thousand livres,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” said D’Artagnan, “with a thousand livres each—I do not +speak as a Spartan, but as a procurator—” +</p> + +<p> +This word <i>procurator</i> roused Porthos. “Stop,” said he, “I have an idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s something, for I have not the shadow of one,” said Athos coolly; +“but as to D’Artagnan, gentlemen, the idea of belonging to <i>ours</i> has +driven him out of his senses. A thousand livres! For my part, I declare I want +two thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four times two makes eight,” then said Aramis; “it is eight thousand that we +want to complete our outfits, toward which, it is true, we have already the +saddles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” said Athos, waiting till D’Artagnan, who went to thank Monsieur de +Tréville, had shut the door, “besides, there is that beautiful ring which beams +from the finger of our friend. What the devil! D’Artagnan is too good a comrade +to leave his brothers in embarrassment while he wears the ransom of a king on +his finger.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>Chapter XXIX.<br/> +HUNTING FOR THE EQUIPMENTS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> most preoccupied of the four friends was certainly +D’Artagnan, although he, in his quality of Guardsman, would be much more easily +equipped than Messieurs the Musketeers, who were all of high rank; but our +Gascon cadet was, as may have been observed, of a provident and almost +avaricious character, and with that (explain the contradiction) so vain as +almost to rival Porthos. To this preoccupation of his vanity, D’Artagnan at +this moment joined an uneasiness much less selfish. Notwithstanding all his +inquiries respecting Mme. Bonacieux, he could obtain no intelligence of her. M. +de Tréville had spoken of her to the queen. The queen was ignorant where the +mercer’s young wife was, but had promised to have her sought for; but this +promise was very vague and did not at all reassure D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +Athos did not leave his chamber; he made up his mind not to take a single step +to equip himself. +</p> + +<p> +“We have still fifteen days before us,” said he to his friends, “well, if at +the end of a fortnight I have found nothing, or rather if nothing has come to +find me, as I, too good a Catholic to kill myself with a pistol bullet, I will +seek a good quarrel with four of his Eminence’s Guards or with eight +Englishmen, and I will fight until one of them has killed me, which, +considering the number, cannot fail to happen. It will then be said of me that +I died for the king; so that I shall have performed my duty without the expense +of an outfit.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos continued to walk about with his hands behind him, tossing his head and +repeating, “I shall follow up on my idea.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, anxious and negligently dressed, said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +It may be seen by these disastrous details that desolation reigned in the +community. +</p> + +<p> +The lackeys on their part, like the coursers of Hippolytus, shared the sadness +of their masters. Mousqueton collected a store of crusts; Bazin, who had always +been inclined to devotion, never quit the churches; Planchet watched the flight +of flies; and Grimaud, whom the general distress could not induce to break the +silence imposed by his master, heaved sighs enough to soften the stones. +</p> + +<p> +The three friends—for, as we have said, Athos had sworn not to stir a +foot to equip himself—went out early in the morning, and returned late at +night. They wandered about the streets, looking at the pavement as if to see +whether the passengers had not left a purse behind them. They might have been +supposed to be following tracks, so observant were they wherever they went. +When they met they looked desolately at one another, as much as to say, “Have +you found anything?” +</p> + +<p> +However, as Porthos had first found an idea, and had thought of it earnestly +afterward, he was the first to act. He was a man of execution, this worthy +Porthos. D’Artagnan perceived him one day walking toward the church of St. Leu, +and followed him instinctively. He entered, after having twisted his mustache +and elongated his imperial, which always announced on his part the most +triumphant resolutions. As D’Artagnan took some precautions to conceal himself, +Porthos believed he had not been seen. D’Artagnan entered behind him. Porthos +went and leaned against the side of a pillar. D’Artagnan, still unperceived, +supported himself against the other side. +</p> + +<p> +There happened to be a sermon, which made the church very full of people. +Porthos took advantage of this circumstance to ogle the women. Thanks to the +cares of Mousqueton, the exterior was far from announcing the distress of the +interior. His hat was a little napless, his feather was a little faded, his +gold lace was a little tarnished, his laces were a trifle frayed; but in the +obscurity of the church these things were not seen, and Porthos was still the +handsome Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan observed, on the bench nearest to the pillar against which Porthos +leaned, a sort of ripe beauty, rather yellow and rather dry, but erect and +haughty under her black hood. The eyes of Porthos were furtively cast upon this +lady, and then roved about at large over the nave. +</p> + +<p> +On her side the lady, who from time to time blushed, darted with the rapidity +of lightning a glance toward the inconstant Porthos; and then immediately the +eyes of Porthos wandered anxiously. It was plain that this mode of proceeding +piqued the lady in the black hood, for she bit her lips till they bled, +scratched the end of her nose, and could not sit still in her seat. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, seeing this, retwisted his mustache, elongated his imperial a second +time, and began to make signals to a beautiful lady who was near the choir, and +who not only was a beautiful lady, but still further, no doubt, a great +lady—for she had behind her a Negro boy who had brought the cushion on +which she knelt, and a female servant who held the emblazoned bag in which was +placed the book from which she read the Mass. +</p> + +<p> +The lady with the black hood followed through all their wanderings the looks of +Porthos, and perceived that they rested upon the lady with the velvet cushion, +the little Negro, and the maid-servant. +</p> + +<p> +During this time Porthos played close. It was almost imperceptible motions of +his eyes, fingers placed upon the lips, little assassinating smiles, which +really did assassinate the disdained beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Then she cried, “Ahem!” under cover of the <i>mea culpa</i>, striking her +breast so vigorously that everybody, even the lady with the red cushion, turned +round toward her. Porthos paid no attention. Nevertheless, he understood it +all, but was deaf. +</p> + +<p> +The lady with the red cushion produced a great effect—for she was very +handsome—upon the lady with the black hood, who saw in her a rival really +to be dreaded; a great effect upon Porthos, who thought her much prettier than +the lady with the black hood; a great effect upon D’Artagnan, who recognized in +her the lady of Meung, of Calais, and of Dover, whom his persecutor, the man +with the scar, had saluted by the name of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, without losing sight of the lady of the red cushion, continued to +watch the proceedings of Porthos, which amused him greatly. He guessed that the +lady of the black hood was the procurator’s wife of the Rue aux Ours, which was +the more probable from the church of St. Leu being not far from that locality. +</p> + +<p> +He guessed, likewise, by induction, that Porthos was taking his revenge for the +defeat of Chantilly, when the procurator’s wife had proved so refractory with +respect to her purse. +</p> + +<p> +Amid all this, D’Artagnan remarked also that not one countenance responded to +the gallantries of Porthos. There were only chimeras and illusions; but for +real love, for true jealousy, is there any reality except illusions and +chimeras? +</p> + +<p> +The sermon over, the procurator’s wife advanced toward the holy font. Porthos +went before her, and instead of a finger, dipped his whole hand in. The +procurator’s wife smiled, thinking that it was for her Porthos had put himself +to this trouble; but she was cruelly and promptly undeceived. When she was only +about three steps from him, he turned his head round, fixing his eyes +steadfastly upon the lady with the red cushion, who had risen and was +approaching, followed by her black boy and her woman. +</p> + +<p> +When the lady of the red cushion came close to Porthos, Porthos drew his +dripping hand from the font. The fair worshipper touched the great hand of +Porthos with her delicate fingers, smiled, made the sign of the cross, and left +the church. +</p> + +<p> +This was too much for the procurator’s wife; she doubted not there was an +intrigue between this lady and Porthos. If she had been a great lady she would +have fainted; but as she was only a procurator’s wife, she contented herself +saying to the Musketeer with concentrated fury, “Eh, Monsieur Porthos, you +don’t offer me any holy water?” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, at the sound of that voice, started like a man awakened from a sleep +of a hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +“Ma-madame!” cried he; “is that you? How is your husband, our dear Monsieur +Coquenard? Is he still as stingy as ever? Where can my eyes have been not to +have seen you during the two hours of the sermon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was within two paces of you, monsieur,” replied the procurator’s wife; “but +you did not perceive me because you had no eyes but for the pretty lady to whom +you just now gave the holy water.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos pretended to be confused. “Ah,” said he, “you have remarked—” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have been blind not to have seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Porthos, “that is a duchess of my acquaintance whom I have great +trouble to meet on account of the jealousy of her husband, and who sent me word +that she should come today to this poor church, buried in this vile quarter, +solely for the sake of seeing me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos,” said the procurator’s wife, “will you have the kindness to +offer me your arm for five minutes? I have something to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, madame,” said Porthos, winking to himself, as a gambler does who +laughs at the dupe he is about to pluck. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment D’Artagnan passed in pursuit of Milady; he cast a passing glance +at Porthos, and beheld this triumphant look. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, eh!” said he, reasoning to himself according to the strangely easy +morality of that gallant period, “there is one who will be equipped in good +time!” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, yielding to the pressure of the arm of the procurator’s wife, as a +bark yields to the rudder, arrived at the cloister St. Magloire—a +little-frequented passage, enclosed with a turnstile at each end. In the +daytime nobody was seen there but mendicants devouring their crusts, and +children at play. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur Porthos,” cried the procurator’s wife, when she was assured that +no one who was a stranger to the population of the locality could either see or +hear her, “ah, Monsieur Porthos, you are a great conqueror, as it appears!” +</p> + +<p> +“I, madame?” said Porthos, drawing himself up proudly; “how so?” +</p> + +<p> +“The signs just now, and the holy water! But that must be a princess, at +least—that lady with her Negro boy and her maid!” +</p> + +<p> +“My God! Madame, you are deceived,” said Porthos; “she is simply a duchess.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that running footman who waited at the door, and that carriage with a +coachman in grand livery who sat waiting on his seat?” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos had seen neither the footman nor the carriage, but with the eye of a +jealous woman, Mme. Coquenard had seen everything. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos regretted that he had not at once made the lady of the red cushion a +princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are quite the pet of the ladies, Monsieur Porthos!” resumed the +procurator’s wife, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” responded Porthos, “you may imagine, with the physique with which +nature has endowed me, I am not in want of good luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, how quickly men forget!” cried the procurator’s wife, raising her +eyes toward heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“Less quickly than the women, it seems to me,” replied Porthos; “for I, madame, +I may say I was your victim, when wounded, dying, I was abandoned by the +surgeons. I, the offspring of a noble family, who placed reliance upon your +friendship—I was near dying of my wounds at first, and of hunger +afterward, in a beggarly inn at Chantilly, without you ever deigning once to +reply to the burning letters I addressed to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Monsieur Porthos,” murmured the procurator’s wife, who began to feel +that, to judge by the conduct of the great ladies of the time, she was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“I, who had sacrificed for you the Baronne de—” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it well.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Comtesse de—” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos, be generous!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, madame, and I will not finish.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it was my husband who would not hear of lending.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Coquenard,” said Porthos, “remember the first letter you wrote me, and +which I preserve engraved in my memory.” +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife uttered a groan. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” said she, “the sum you required me to borrow was rather large.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Coquenard, I gave you the preference. I had but to write to the +Duchesse—but I won’t repeat her name, for I am incapable of compromising +a woman; but this I know, that I had but to write to her and she would have +sent me fifteen hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife shed a tear. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos,” said she, “I can assure you that you have severely punished +me; and if in the time to come you should find yourself in a similar situation, +you have but to apply to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fie, madame, fie!” said Porthos, as if disgusted. “Let us not talk about +money, if you please; it is humiliating.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you no longer love me!” said the procurator’s wife, slowly and sadly. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos maintained a majestic silence. +</p> + +<p> +“And that is the only reply you make? Alas, I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of the offense you have committed toward me, madame! It remains +<i>here!</i>” said Porthos, placing his hand on his heart, and pressing it +strongly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will repair it, indeed I will, my dear Porthos.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, what did I ask of you?” resumed Porthos, with a movement of the +shoulders full of good fellowship. “A loan, nothing more! After all, I am not +an unreasonable man. I know you are not rich, Madame Coquenard, and that your +husband is obliged to bleed his poor clients to squeeze a few paltry crowns +from them. Oh! If you were a duchess, a marchioness, or a countess, it would be +quite a different thing; it would be unpardonable.” +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife was piqued. +</p> + +<p> +“Please to know, Monsieur Porthos,” said she, “that my strongbox, the strongbox +of a procurator’s wife though it may be, is better filled than those of your +affected minxes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That doubles the offense,” said Porthos, disengaging his arm from that of the +procurator’s wife; “for if you are rich, Madame Coquenard, then there is no +excuse for your refusal.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I said rich,” replied the procurator’s wife, who saw that she had gone +too far, “you must not take the word literally. I am not precisely rich, though +I am pretty well off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold, madame,” said Porthos, “let us say no more upon the subject, I beg of +you. You have misunderstood me, all sympathy is extinct between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ingrate that you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I advise you to complain!” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Begone, then, to your beautiful duchess; I will detain you no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she is not to be despised, in my opinion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Monsieur Porthos, once more, and this is the last! Do you love me still?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame,” said Porthos, in the most melancholy tone he could assume, “when +we are about to enter upon a campaign—a campaign, in which my +presentiments tell me I shall be killed—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t talk of such things!” cried the procurator’s wife, bursting into +tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Something whispers me so,” continued Porthos, becoming more and more +melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather say that you have a new love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so; I speak frankly to you. No object affects me; and I even feel here, at +the bottom of my heart, something which speaks for you. But in fifteen days, as +you know, or as you do not know, this fatal campaign is to open. I shall be +fearfully preoccupied with my outfit. Then I must make a journey to see my +family, in the lower part of Brittany, to obtain the sum necessary for my +departure.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos observed a last struggle between love and avarice. +</p> + +<p> +“And as,” continued he, “the duchess whom you saw at the church has estates +near to those of my family, we mean to make the journey together. Journeys, you +know, appear much shorter when we travel two in company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no friends in Paris, then, Monsieur Porthos?” said the procurator’s +wife. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I had,” said Porthos, resuming his melancholy air; “but I have been +taught my mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have some!” cried the procurator’s wife, in a transport that surprised +even herself. “Come to our house tomorrow. You are the son of my aunt, +consequently my cousin; you come from Noyon, in Picardy; you have several +lawsuits and no attorney. Can you recollect all that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come at dinnertime.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“And be upon your guard before my husband, who is rather shrewd, +notwithstanding his seventy-six years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seventy-six years! <i>Peste!</i> That’s a fine age!” replied Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“A great age, you mean, Monsieur Porthos. Yes, the poor man may be expected to +leave me a widow, any hour,” continued she, throwing a significant glance at +Porthos. “Fortunately, by our marriage contract, the survivor takes +everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“All?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a woman of precaution, I see, my dear Madame Coquenard,” said Porthos, +squeezing the hand of the procurator’s wife tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“We are then reconciled, dear Monsieur Porthos?” said she, simpering. +</p> + +<p> +“For life,” replied Porthos, in the same manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Till we meet again, then, dear traitor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Till we meet again, my forgetful charmer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, my angel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, flame of my life!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>Chapter XXX.<br/> +D’ARTAGNAN AND THE ENGLISHMAN</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> followed Milady without being perceived by +her. He saw her get into her carriage, and heard her order the coachman to +drive to St. Germain. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless to try to keep pace on foot with a carriage drawn by two +powerful horses. D’Artagnan therefore returned to the Rue Férou. +</p> + +<p> +In the Rue de Seine he met Planchet, who had stopped before the house of a +pastry cook, and was contemplating with ecstasy a cake of the most appetizing +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +He ordered him to go and saddle two horses in M. de Tréville’s +stables—one for himself, D’Artagnan, and one for Planchet—and bring +them to Athos’s place. Once for all, Tréville had placed his stable at +D’Artagnan’s service. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet proceeded toward the Rue du Colombier, and D’Artagnan toward the Rue +Férou. Athos was at home, emptying sadly a bottle of the famous Spanish wine he +had brought back with him from his journey into Picardy. He made a sign for +Grimaud to bring a glass for D’Artagnan, and Grimaud obeyed as usual. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related to Athos all that had passed at the church between Porthos +and the procurator’s wife, and how their comrade was probably by that time in a +fair way to be equipped. +</p> + +<p> +“As for me,” replied Athos to this recital, “I am quite at my ease; it will not +be women that will defray the expense of my outfit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Handsome, well-bred, noble lord as you are, my dear Athos, neither princesses +nor queens would be secure from your amorous solicitations.” +</p> + +<p> +“How young this D’Artagnan is!” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders; and he +made a sign to Grimaud to bring another bottle. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Planchet put his head modestly in at the half-open door, and +told his master that the horses were ready. +</p> + +<p> +“What horses?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Two horses that Monsieur de Tréville lends me at my pleasure, and with which I +am now going to take a ride to St. Germain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what are you going to do at St. Germain?” then demanded Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan described the meeting which he had at the church, and how he +had found that lady who, with the seigneur in the black cloak and with the scar +near his temple, filled his mind constantly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, you are in love with this lady as you were with Madame +Bonacieux,” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously, as if he pitied +human weakness. +</p> + +<p> +“I? not at all!” said D’Artagnan. “I am only curious to unravel the mystery to +which she is attached. I do not know why, but I imagine that this woman, wholly +unknown to me as she is, and wholly unknown to her as I am, has an influence +over my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps you are right,” said Athos. “I do not know a woman that is worth +the trouble of being sought for when she is once lost. Madame Bonacieux is +lost; so much the worse for her if she is found.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Athos, no, you are mistaken,” said D’Artagnan; “I love my poor Constance +more than ever, and if I knew the place in which she is, were it at the end of +the world, I would go to free her from the hands of her enemies; but I am +ignorant. All my researches have been useless. What is to be said? I must +divert my attention!” +</p> + +<p> +“Amuse yourself with Milady, my dear D’Artagnan; I wish you may with all my +heart, if that will amuse you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me, Athos,” said D’Artagnan. “Instead of shutting yourself up here as if +you were under arrest, get on horseback and come and take a ride with me to St. +Germain.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow,” said Athos, “I ride horses when I have any; when I have none, +I go afoot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said D’Artagnan, smiling at the misanthropy of Athos, which from any +other person would have offended him, “I ride what I can get; I am not so proud +as you. So <i>au revoir</i>, dear Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Au revoir</i>,” said the Musketeer, making a sign to Grimaud to uncork the +bottle he had just brought. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan and Planchet mounted, and took the road to St. Germain. +</p> + +<p> +All along the road, what Athos had said respecting Mme. Bonacieux recurred to +the mind of the young man. Although D’Artagnan was not of a very sentimental +character, the mercer’s pretty wife had made a real impression upon his heart. +As he said, he was ready to go to the end of the world to seek her; but the +world, being round, has many ends, so that he did not know which way to turn. +Meantime, he was going to try to find out Milady. Milady had spoken to the man +in the black cloak; therefore she knew him. Now, in the opinion of D’Artagnan, +it was certainly the man in the black cloak who had carried off Mme. Bonacieux +the second time, as he had carried her off the first. D’Artagnan then only +half-lied, which is lying but little, when he said that by going in search of +Milady he at the same time went in search of Constance. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking of all this, and from time to time giving a touch of the spur to his +horse, D’Artagnan completed his short journey, and arrived at St. Germain. He +had just passed by the pavilion in which ten years later Louis XIV. was born. He +rode up a very quiet street, looking to the right and the left to see if he +could catch any vestige of his beautiful Englishwoman, when from the ground +floor of a pretty house, which, according to the fashion of the time, had no +window toward the street, he saw a face peep out with which he thought he was +acquainted. This person walked along the terrace, which was ornamented with +flowers. Planchet recognized him first. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, monsieur!” said he, addressing D’Artagnan, “don’t you remember that face +which is blinking yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said D’Artagnan, “and yet I am certain it is not the first time I have +seen that visage.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Parbleu</i>, I believe it is not,” said Planchet. “Why, it is poor Lubin, +the lackey of the Comte de Wardes—he whom you took such good care of a +month ago at Calais, on the road to the governor’s country house!” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is!” said D’Artagnan; “I know him now. Do you think he would recollect +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, monsieur, he was in such trouble that I doubt if he can have +retained a very clear recollection of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go and talk with the boy,” said D’Artagnan, “and make out if you can +from his conversation whether his master is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Planchet dismounted and went straight up to Lubin, who did not at all remember +him, and the two lackeys began to chat with the best understanding possible; +while D’Artagnan turned the two horses into a lane, went round the house, and +came back to watch the conference from behind a hedge of filberts. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of an instant’s observation he heard the noise of a vehicle, and saw +Milady’s carriage stop opposite to him. He could not be mistaken; Milady was in +it. D’Artagnan leaned upon the neck of his horse, in order that he might see +without being seen. +</p> + +<p> +Milady put her charming blond head out at the window, and gave her orders to +her maid. +</p> + +<p> +The latter—a pretty girl of about twenty or twenty-two years, active and +lively, the true <i>soubrette</i> of a great lady—jumped from the step +upon which, according to the custom of the time, she was seated, and took her +way toward the terrace upon which D’Artagnan had perceived Lubin. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan followed the <i>soubrette</i> with his eyes, and saw her go toward +the terrace; but it happened that someone in the house called Lubin, so that +Planchet remained alone, looking in all directions for the road where +D’Artagnan had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +The maid approached Planchet, whom she took for Lubin, and holding out a little +billet to him said, “For your master.” +</p> + +<p> +“For my master?” replied Planchet, astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and important. Take it quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she ran toward the carriage, which had turned round toward the way it +came, jumped upon the step, and the carriage drove off. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet turned and returned the billet. Then, accustomed to passive obedience, +he jumped down from the terrace, ran toward the lane, and at the end of twenty +paces met D’Artagnan, who, having seen all, was coming to him. +</p> + +<p> +“For you, monsieur,” said Planchet, presenting the billet to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” said D’Artagnan; “are you sure of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu</i>, monsieur, I can’t be more sure. The <i>soubrette</i> said, +‘For your master.’ I have no other master but you; so—a pretty little +lass, my faith, is that <i>soubrette!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan opened the letter, and read these words: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“A person who takes more interest in you than she is willing to confess wishes +to know on what day it will suit you to walk in the forest? Tomorrow, at the +Hôtel Field of the Cloth of Gold, a lackey in black and red will wait for your +reply.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said D’Artagnan, “this is rather warm; it appears that Milady and I are +anxious about the health of the same person. Well, Planchet, how is the good +Monsieur de Wardes? He is not dead, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, he is as well as a man can be with four sword wounds in his +body; for you, without question, inflicted four upon the dear gentleman, and he +is still very weak, having lost almost all his blood. As I said, monsieur, +Lubin did not know me, and told me our adventure from one end to the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, Planchet! you are the king of lackeys. Now jump onto your horse, +and let us overtake the carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +This did not take long. At the end of five minutes they perceived the carriage +drawn up by the roadside; a cavalier, richly dressed, was close to the door. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation between Milady and the cavalier was so animated that +D’Artagnan stopped on the other side of the carriage without anyone but the +pretty <i>soubrette</i> perceiving his presence. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation took place in English—a language which D’Artagnan could +not understand; but by the accent the young man plainly saw that the beautiful +Englishwoman was in a great rage. She terminated it by an action which left no +doubt as to the nature of this conversation; this was a blow with her fan, +applied with such force that the little feminine weapon flew into a thousand +pieces. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalier laughed aloud, which appeared to exasperate Milady still more. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan thought this was the moment to interfere. He approached the other +door, and taking off his hat respectfully, said, “Madame, will you permit me to +offer you my services? It appears to me that this cavalier has made you very +angry. Speak one word, madame, and I take upon myself to punish him for his +want of courtesy.” +</p> + +<p> +At the first word Milady turned, looking at the young man with astonishment; +and when he had finished, she said in very good French, “Monsieur, I should +with great confidence place myself under your protection if the person with +whom I quarrel were not my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, excuse me, then,” said D’Artagnan. “You must be aware that I was ignorant +of that, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that stupid fellow troubling himself about?” cried the cavalier whom +Milady had designated as her brother, stooping down to the height of the coach +window. “Why does not he go about his business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stupid fellow yourself!” said D’Artagnan, stooping in his turn on the neck of +his horse, and answering on his side through the carriage window. “I do not go +on because it pleases me to stop here.” +</p> + +<p> +The cavalier addressed some words in English to his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“I speak to you in French,” said D’Artagnan; “be kind enough, then, to reply to +me in the same language. You are Madame’s brother, I learn—be it so; but +fortunately you are not mine.” +</p> + +<p> +It might be thought that Milady, timid as women are in general, would have +interposed in this commencement of mutual provocations in order to prevent the +quarrel from going too far; but on the contrary, she threw herself back in her +carriage, and called out coolly to the coachman, “Go on—home!” +</p> + +<p> +The pretty <i>soubrette</i> cast an anxious glance at D’Artagnan, whose good +looks seemed to have made an impression on her. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage went on, and left the two men facing each other; no material +obstacle separated them. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalier made a movement as if to follow the carriage; but D’Artagnan, +whose anger, already excited, was much increased by recognizing in him the +Englishman of Amiens who had won his horse and had been very near winning his +diamond of Athos, caught at his bridle and stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monsieur,” said he, “you appear to be more stupid than I am, for you +forget there is a little quarrel to arrange between us two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said the Englishman, “is it you, my master? It seems you must always be +playing some game or other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and that reminds me that I have a revenge to take. We will see, my dear +monsieur, if you can handle a sword as skillfully as you can a dice box.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see plainly that I have no sword,” said the Englishman. “Do you wish to +play the braggart with an unarmed man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you have a sword at home; but at all events, I have two, and if you +like, I will throw with you for one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Needless,” said the Englishman; “I am well furnished with such playthings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, my worthy gentleman,” replied D’Artagnan, “pick out the longest, +and come and show it to me this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, if you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Behind the Luxembourg; that’s a charming spot for such amusements as the one I +propose to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do; I will be there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Six o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>A propos</i>, you have probably one or two friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have three, who would be honored by joining in the sport with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three? Marvelous! That falls out oddly! Three is just my number!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then, who are you?” asked the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Monsieur d’Artagnan, a Gascon gentleman, serving in the king’s +Musketeers. And you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am Lord de Winter, Baron Sheffield.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I am your servant, Monsieur Baron,” said D’Artagnan, “though you +have names rather difficult to recollect.” And touching his horse with the +spur, he cantered back to Paris. As he was accustomed to do in all cases of any +consequence, D’Artagnan went straight to the residence of Athos. +</p> + +<p> +He found Athos reclining upon a large sofa, where he was waiting, as he said, +for his outfit to come and find him. He related to Athos all that had passed, +except the letter to M. de Wardes. +</p> + +<p> +Athos was delighted to find he was going to fight an Englishman. We might say +that was his dream. +</p> + +<p> +They immediately sent their lackeys for Porthos and Aramis, and on their +arrival made them acquainted with the situation. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos drew his sword from the scabbard, and made passes at the wall, +springing back from time to time, and making contortions like a dancer. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, who was constantly at work at his poem, shut himself up in Athos’s +closet, and begged not to be disturbed before the moment of drawing swords. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, by signs, desired Grimaud to bring another bottle of wine. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan employed himself in arranging a little plan, of which we shall +hereafter see the execution, and which promised him some agreeable adventure, +as might be seen by the smiles which from time to time passed over his +countenance, whose thoughtfulness they animated. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>Chapter XXXI.<br/> +ENGLISH AND FRENCH</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> hour having come, they went with their four lackeys +to a spot behind the Luxembourg given up to the feeding of goats. Athos threw a +piece of money to the goatkeeper to withdraw. The lackeys were ordered to act +as sentinels. +</p> + +<p> +A silent party soon drew near to the same enclosure, entered, and joined the +Musketeers. Then, according to foreign custom, the presentations took place. +</p> + +<p> +The Englishmen were all men of rank; consequently the odd names of their +adversaries were for them not only a matter of surprise, but of annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +“But after all,” said Lord de Winter, when the three friends had been named, +“we do not know who you are. We cannot fight with such names; they are names of +shepherds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore your lordship may suppose they are only assumed names,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Which only gives us a greater desire to know the real ones,” replied the +Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“You played very willingly with us without knowing our names,” said Athos, “by +the same token that you won our horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, but we then only risked our pistoles; this time we risk our +blood. One plays with anybody; but one fights only with equals.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is but just,” said Athos, and he took aside the one of the four +Englishmen with whom he was to fight, and communicated his name in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis did the same. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that satisfy you?” said Athos to his adversary. “Do you find me of +sufficient rank to do me the honor of crossing swords with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” said the Englishman, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! now shall I tell you something?” added Athos, coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” replied the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that is that you would have acted much more wisely if you had not +required me to make myself known.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am believed to be dead, and have reasons for wishing nobody to know +I am living; so that I shall be obliged to kill you to prevent my secret from +roaming over the fields.” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman looked at Athos, believing that he jested, but Athos did not +jest the least in the world. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, addressing at the same time his companions and their +adversaries, “are we ready?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” answered the Englishmen and the Frenchmen, as with one voice. +</p> + +<p> +“On guard, then!” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately eight swords glittered in the rays of the setting sun, and the +combat began with an animosity very natural between men twice enemies. +</p> + +<p> +Athos fenced with as much calmness and method as if he had been practicing in a +fencing school. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, abated, no doubt, of his too-great confidence by his adventure of +Chantilly, played with skill and prudence. Aramis, who had the third canto of +his poem to finish, behaved like a man in haste. +</p> + +<p> +Athos killed his adversary first. He hit him but once, but as he had foretold, +that hit was a mortal one; the sword pierced his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Second, Porthos stretched his upon the grass with a wound through his thigh, As +the Englishman, without making any further resistance, then surrendered his +sword, Porthos took him up in his arms and bore him to his carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis pushed his so vigorously that after going back fifty paces, the man +ended by fairly taking to his heels, and disappeared amid the hooting of the +lackeys. +</p> + +<p> +As to D’Artagnan, he fought purely and simply on the defensive; and when he saw +his adversary pretty well fatigued, with a vigorous side thrust sent his sword +flying. The baron, finding himself disarmed, took two or three steps back, but +in this movement his foot slipped and he fell backward. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was over him at a bound, and said to the Englishman, pointing his +sword to his throat, “I could kill you, my Lord, you are completely in my +hands; but I spare your life for the sake of your sister.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was at the height of joy; he had realized the plan he had imagined +beforehand, whose picturing had produced the smiles we noted upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman, delighted at having to do with a gentleman of such a kind +disposition, pressed D’Artagnan in his arms, and paid a thousand compliments to +the three Musketeers, and as Porthos’s adversary was already installed in the +carriage, and as Aramis’s had taken to his heels, they had nothing to think +about but the dead. +</p> + +<p> +As Porthos and Aramis were undressing him, in the hope of finding his wound not +mortal, a large purse dropped from his clothes. D’Artagnan picked it up and +offered it to Lord de Winter. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil would you have me do with that?” said the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“You can restore it to his family,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“His family will care much about such a trifle as that! His family will inherit +fifteen thousand louis a year from him. Keep the purse for your lackeys.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan put the purse into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my young friend, for you will permit me, I hope, to give you that +name,” said Lord de Winter, “on this very evening, if agreeable to you, I will +present you to my sister, Milady Clarik, for I am desirous that she should take +you into her good graces; and as she is not in bad odor at court, she may +perhaps on some future day speak a word that will not prove useless to you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan blushed with pleasure, and bowed a sign of assent. +</p> + +<p> +At this time Athos came up to D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean to do with that purse?” whispered he. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I meant to pass it over to you, my dear Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me! why to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you killed him! They are the spoils of victory.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, the heir of an enemy!” said Athos; “for whom, then, do you take me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the custom in war,” said D’Artagnan, “why should it not be the custom in +a duel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even on the field of battle, I have never done that.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos shrugged his shoulders; Aramis by a movement of his lips endorsed +Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said D’Artagnan, “let us give the money to the lackeys, as Lord de +Winter desired us to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Athos; “let us give the money to the lackeys—not to our +lackeys, but to the lackeys of the Englishmen.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos took the purse, and threw it into the hand of the coachman. “For you and +your comrades.” +</p> + +<p> +This greatness of spirit in a man who was quite destitute struck even Porthos; +and this French generosity, repeated by Lord de Winter and his friend, was +highly applauded, except by MM. Grimaud, Bazin, Mousqueton and Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter, on quitting D’Artagnan, gave him his sister’s address. She +lived in the Place Royale—then the fashionable quarter—at Number 6, +and he undertook to call and take D’Artagnan with him in order to introduce +him. D’Artagnan appointed eight o’clock at Athos’s residence. +</p> + +<p> +This introduction to Milady Clarik occupied the head of our Gascon greatly. He +remembered in what a strange manner this woman had hitherto been mixed up in +his destiny. According to his conviction, she was some creature of the +cardinal, and yet he felt himself invincibly drawn toward her by one of those +sentiments for which we cannot account. His only fear was that Milady would +recognize in him the man of Meung and of Dover. Then she knew that he was one +of the friends of M. de Tréville, and consequently, that he belonged body and +soul to the king; which would make him lose a part of his advantage, since when +known to Milady as he knew her, he played only an equal game with her. As to +the commencement of an intrigue between her and M. de Wardes, our presumptuous +hero gave but little heed to that, although the marquis was young, handsome, +rich, and high in the cardinal’s favor. It is not for nothing we are but twenty +years old, above all if we were born at Tarbes. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan began by making his most splendid toilet, then returned to Athos’s, +and according to custom, related everything to him. Athos listened to his +projects, then shook his head, and recommended prudence to him with a shade of +bitterness. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said he, “you have just lost one woman, whom you call good, charming, +perfect; and here you are, running headlong after another.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan felt the truth of this reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“I loved Madame Bonacieux with my heart, while I only love Milady with my +head,” said he. “In getting introduced to her, my principal object is to +ascertain what part she plays at court.” +</p> + +<p> +“The part she plays, <i>pardieu!</i> It is not difficult to divine that, after +all you have told me. She is some emissary of the cardinal; a woman who will +draw you into a snare in which you will leave your head.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! my dear Athos, you view things on the dark side, methinks.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, I mistrust women. Can it be otherwise? I bought my experience +dearly—particularly fair women. Milady is fair, you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“She has the most beautiful light hair imaginable!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my poor D’Artagnan!” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me! I want to be enlightened on a subject; then, when I shall have +learned what I desire to know, I will withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be enlightened!” said Athos, phlegmatically. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter arrived at the appointed time; but Athos, being warned of his +coming, went into the other chamber. He therefore found D’Artagnan alone, and +as it was nearly eight o’clock he took the young man with him. +</p> + +<p> +An elegant carriage waited below, and as it was drawn by two excellent horses, +they were soon at the Place Royale. +</p> + +<p> +Milady Clarik received D’Artagnan ceremoniously. Her hôtel was remarkably +sumptuous, and while the most part of the English had quit, or were about to +quit, France on account of the war, Milady had just been laying out much money +upon her residence; which proved that the general measure which drove the +English from France did not affect her. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said Lord de Winter, presenting D’Artagnan to his sister, “a young +gentleman who has held my life in his hands, and who has not abused his +advantage, although we have been twice enemies, although it was I who insulted +him, and although I am an Englishman. Thank him, then, madame, if you have any +affection for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady frowned slightly; a scarcely visible cloud passed over her brow, and so +peculiar a smile appeared upon her lips that the young man, who saw and +observed this triple shade, almost shuddered at it. +</p> + +<p> +The brother did not perceive this; he had turned round to play with Milady’s +favorite monkey, which had pulled him by the doublet. +</p> + +<p> +“You are welcome, monsieur,” said Milady, in a voice whose singular sweetness +contrasted with the symptoms of ill-humor which D’Artagnan had just remarked; +“you have today acquired eternal rights to my gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman then turned round and described the combat without omitting a +single detail. Milady listened with the greatest attention, and yet it was +easily to be perceived, whatever effort she made to conceal her impressions, +that this recital was not agreeable to her. The blood rose to her head, and her +little foot worked with impatience beneath her robe. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter perceived nothing of this. When he had finished, he went to a +table upon which was a salver with Spanish wine and glasses. He filled two +glasses, and by a sign invited D’Artagnan to drink. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan knew it was considered disobliging by an Englishman to refuse to +pledge him. He therefore drew near to the table and took the second glass. He +did not, however, lose sight of Milady, and in a mirror he perceived the change +that came over her face. Now that she believed herself to be no longer +observed, a sentiment resembling ferocity animated her countenance. She bit her +handkerchief with her beautiful teeth. +</p> + +<p> +That pretty little <i>soubrette</i> whom D’Artagnan had already observed then +came in. She spoke some words to Lord de Winter in English, who thereupon +requested D’Artagnan’s permission to retire, excusing himself on account of the +urgency of the business that had called him away, and charging his sister to +obtain his pardon. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan exchanged a shake of the hand with Lord de Winter, and then returned +to Milady. Her countenance, with surprising mobility, had recovered its +gracious expression; but some little red spots on her handkerchief indicated +that she had bitten her lips till the blood came. Those lips were magnificent; +they might be said to be of coral. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation took a cheerful turn. Milady appeared to have entirely +recovered. She told D’Artagnan that Lord de Winter was her brother-in-law, and +not her brother. She had married a younger brother of the family, who had left +her a widow with one child. This child was the only heir to Lord de Winter, if +Lord de Winter did not marry. All this showed D’Artagnan that there was a veil +which concealed something; but he could not yet see under this veil. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to this, after a half hour’s conversation D’Artagnan was convinced +that Milady was his compatriot; she spoke French with an elegance and a purity +that left no doubt on that head. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was profuse in gallant speeches and protestations of devotion. To +all the simple things which escaped our Gascon, Milady replied with a smile of +kindness. The hour came for him to retire. D’Artagnan took leave of Milady, and +left the saloon the happiest of men. +</p> + +<p> +On the staircase he met the pretty <i>soubrette</i>, who brushed gently against +him as she passed, and then, blushing to the eyes, asked his pardon for having +touched him in a voice so sweet that the pardon was granted instantly. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan came again on the morrow, and was still better received than on the +evening before. Lord de Winter was not at home; and it was Milady who this time +did all the honors of the evening. She appeared to take a great interest in +him, asked him whence he came, who were his friends, and whether he had not +sometimes thought of attaching himself to the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who, as we have said, was exceedingly prudent for a young man of +twenty, then remembered his suspicions regarding Milady. He launched into a +eulogy of his Eminence, and said that he should not have failed to enter into +the Guards of the cardinal instead of the king’s Guards if he had happened to +know M. de Cavois instead of M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +Milady changed the conversation without any appearance of affectation, and +asked D’Artagnan in the most careless manner possible if he had ever been in +England. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan replied that he had been sent thither by M. de Tréville to treat for +a supply of horses, and that he had brought back four as specimens. +</p> + +<p> +Milady in the course of the conversation twice or thrice bit her lips; she had +to deal with a Gascon who played close. +</p> + +<p> +At the same hour as on the preceding evening, D’Artagnan retired. In the +corridor he again met the pretty Kitty; that was the name of the +<i>soubrette</i>. She looked at him with an expression of kindness which it was +impossible to mistake; but D’Artagnan was so preoccupied by the mistress that +he noticed absolutely nothing but her. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan came again on the morrow and the day after that, and each day Milady +gave him a more gracious reception. +</p> + +<p> +Every evening, either in the antechamber, the corridor, or on the stairs, he +met the pretty <i>soubrette</i>. But, as we have said, D’Artagnan paid no +attention to this persistence of poor Kitty. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>Chapter XXXII.<br/> +A PROCURATOR’S DINNER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">H</span><span +class="dropspan">owever</span> brilliant had been the part played by Porthos in +the duel, it had not made him forget the dinner of the procurator’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow he received the last touches of Mousqueton’s brush for an hour, +and took his way toward the Rue aux Ours with the steps of a man who was doubly +in favor with fortune. +</p> + +<p> +His heart beat, but not like D’Artagnan’s with a young and impatient love. No; +a more material interest stirred his blood. He was about at last to pass that +mysterious threshold, to climb those unknown stairs by which, one by one, the +old crowns of M. Coquenard had ascended. He was about to see in reality a +certain coffer of which he had twenty times beheld the image in his +dreams—a coffer long and deep, locked, bolted, fastened in the wall; a +coffer of which he had so often heard, and which the hands—a little +wrinkled, it is true, but still not without elegance—of the procurator’s +wife were about to open to his admiring looks. +</p> + +<p> +And then he—a wanderer on the earth, a man without fortune, a man without +family, a soldier accustomed to inns, cabarets, taverns, and restaurants, a +lover of wine forced to depend upon chance treats—was about to partake of +family meals, to enjoy the pleasures of a comfortable establishment, and to +give himself up to those little attentions which “the harder one is, the more +they please,” as old soldiers say. +</p> + +<p> +To come in the capacity of a cousin, and seat himself every day at a good +table; to smooth the yellow, wrinkled brow of the old procurator; to pluck the +clerks a little by teaching them <i>bassette</i>, <i>passe-dix</i>, and +<i>lansquenet</i>, in their utmost nicety, and winning from them, by way of fee +for the lesson he would give them in an hour, their savings of a +month—all this was enormously delightful to Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +The Musketeer could not forget the evil reports which then prevailed, and which +indeed have survived them, of the procurators of the period—meanness, +stinginess, fasts; but as, after all, excepting some few acts of economy which +Porthos had always found very unseasonable, the procurator’s wife had been +tolerably liberal—that is, be it understood, for a procurator’s +wife—he hoped to see a household of a highly comfortable kind. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, at the very door the Musketeer began to entertain some doubts. The +approach was not such as to prepossess people—an ill-smelling, dark +passage, a staircase half-lighted by bars through which stole a glimmer from a +neighboring yard; on the first floor a low door studded with enormous nails, +like the principal gate of the Grand Châtelet. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos knocked with his hand. A tall, pale clerk, his face shaded by a forest +of virgin hair, opened the door, and bowed with the air of a man forced at once +to respect in another lofty stature, which indicated strength, the military +dress, which indicated rank, and a ruddy countenance, which indicated +familiarity with good living. +</p> + +<p> +A shorter clerk came behind the first, a taller clerk behind the second, a +stripling of a dozen years rising behind the third. In all, three clerks and a +half, which, for the time, argued a very extensive clientage. +</p> + +<p> +Although the Musketeer was not expected before one o’clock, the procurator’s +wife had been on the watch ever since midday, reckoning that the heart, or +perhaps the stomach, of her lover would bring him before his time. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard therefore entered the office from the house at the same moment +her guest entered from the stairs, and the appearance of the worthy lady +relieved him from an awkward embarrassment. The clerks surveyed him with great +curiosity, and he, not knowing well what to say to this ascending and +descending scale, remained tongue-tied. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my cousin!” cried the procurator’s wife. “Come in, come in, Monsieur +Porthos!” +</p> + +<p> +The name of Porthos produced its effect upon the clerks, who began to laugh; +but Porthos turned sharply round, and every countenance quickly recovered its +gravity. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the office of the procurator after having passed through the +antechamber in which the clerks were, and the study in which they ought to have +been. This last apartment was a sort of dark room, littered with papers. On +quitting the study they left the kitchen on the right, and entered the +reception room. +</p> + +<p> +All these rooms, which communicated with one another, did not inspire Porthos +favorably. Words might be heard at a distance through all these open doors. +Then, while passing, he had cast a rapid, investigating glance into the +kitchen; and he was obliged to confess to himself, to the shame of the +procurator’s wife and his own regret, that he did not see that fire, that +animation, that bustle, which when a good repast is on foot prevails generally +in that sanctuary of good living. +</p> + +<p> +The procurator had without doubt been warned of his visit, as he expressed no +surprise at the sight of Porthos, who advanced toward him with a sufficiently +easy air, and saluted him courteously. +</p> + +<p> +“We are cousins, it appears, Monsieur Porthos?” said the procurator, rising, +yet supporting his weight upon the arms of his cane chair. +</p> + +<p> +The old man, wrapped in a large black doublet, in which the whole of his +slender body was concealed, was brisk and dry. His little gray eyes shone like +carbuncles, and appeared, with his grinning mouth, to be the only part of his +face in which life survived. Unfortunately the legs began to refuse their +service to this bony machine. During the last five or six months that this +weakness had been felt, the worthy procurator had nearly become the slave of +his wife. +</p> + +<p> +The cousin was received with resignation, that was all. M. Coquenard, firm upon +his legs, would have declined all relationship with M. Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, we are cousins,” said Porthos, without being disconcerted, as +he had never reckoned upon being received enthusiastically by the husband. +</p> + +<p> +“By the female side, I believe?” said the procurator, maliciously. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos did not feel the ridicule of this, and took it for a piece of +simplicity, at which he laughed in his large mustache. Mme. Coquenard, who knew +that a simple-minded procurator was a very rare variety in the species, smiled +a little, and colored a great deal. +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard had, since the arrival of Porthos, frequently cast his eyes with +great uneasiness upon a large chest placed in front of his oak desk. Porthos +comprehended that this chest, although it did not correspond in shape with that +which he had seen in his dreams, must be the blessed coffer, and he +congratulated himself that the reality was several feet higher than the dream. +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard did not carry his genealogical investigations any further; but +withdrawing his anxious look from the chest and fixing it upon Porthos, he +contented himself with saying, “Monsieur our cousin will do us the favor of +dining with us once before his departure for the campaign, will he not, Madame +Coquenard?” +</p> + +<p> +This time Porthos received the blow right in his stomach, and felt it. It +appeared likewise that Mme. Coquenard was not less affected by it on her part, +for she added, “My cousin will not return if he finds that we do not treat him +kindly; but otherwise he has so little time to pass in Paris, and consequently +to spare to us, that we must entreat him to give us every instant he can call +his own previous to his departure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my legs, my poor legs! where are you?” murmured Coquenard, and he tried to +smile. +</p> + +<p> +This succor, which came to Porthos at the moment in which he was attacked in +his gastronomic hopes, inspired much gratitude in the Musketeer toward the +procurator’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +The hour of dinner soon arrived. They passed into the eating room—a large +dark room situated opposite the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +The clerks, who, as it appeared, had smelled unusual perfumes in the house, +were of military punctuality, and held their stools in hand quite ready to sit +down. Their jaws moved preliminarily with fearful threatenings. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” thought Porthos, casting a glance at the three hungry +clerks—for the errand boy, as might be expected, was not admitted to the +honors of the magisterial table, “in my cousin’s place, I would not keep such +gourmands! They look like shipwrecked sailors who have not eaten for six +weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard entered, pushed along upon his armchair with casters by Mme. +Coquenard, whom Porthos assisted in rolling her husband up to the table. He had +scarcely entered when he began to agitate his nose and his jaws after the +example of his clerks. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” said he; “here is a soup which is rather inviting.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil can they smell so extraordinary in this soup?” said Porthos, at +the sight of a pale liquid, abundant but entirely free from meat, on the +surface of which a few crusts swam about as rare as the islands of an +archipelago. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard smiled, and upon a sign from her everyone eagerly took his seat. +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard was served first, then Porthos. Afterward Mme. Coquenard filled +her own plate, and distributed the crusts without soup to the impatient clerks. +At this moment the door of the dining room unclosed with a creak, and Porthos +perceived through the half-open flap the little clerk who, not being allowed to +take part in the feast, ate his dry bread in the passage with the double odor +of the dining room and kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +After the soup the maid brought a boiled fowl—a piece of magnificence +which caused the eyes of the diners to dilate in such a manner that they seemed +ready to burst. +</p> + +<p> +“One may see that you love your family, Madame Coquenard,” said the procurator, +with a smile that was almost tragic. “You are certainly treating your cousin +very handsomely!” +</p> + +<p> +The poor fowl was thin, and covered with one of those thick, bristly skins +through which the teeth cannot penetrate with all their efforts. The fowl must +have been sought for a long time on the perch, to which it had retired to die +of old age. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” thought Porthos, “this is poor work. I respect old age, but I +don’t much like it boiled or roasted.” +</p> + +<p> +And he looked round to see if anybody partook of his opinion; but on the +contrary, he saw nothing but eager eyes which were devouring, in anticipation, +that sublime fowl which was the object of his contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard drew the dish toward her, skillfully detached the two great +black feet, which she placed upon her husband’s plate, cut off the neck, which +with the head she put on one side for herself, raised the wing for Porthos, and +then returned the bird otherwise intact to the servant who had brought it in, +who disappeared with it before the Musketeer had time to examine the variations +which disappointment produces upon faces, according to the characters and +temperaments of those who experience it. +</p> + +<p> +In the place of the fowl a dish of haricot beans made its appearance—an +enormous dish in which some bones of mutton that at first sight one might have +believed to have some meat on them pretended to show themselves. +</p> + +<p> +But the clerks were not the dupes of this deceit, and their lugubrious looks +settled down into resigned countenances. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard distributed this dish to the young men with the moderation of a +good housewife. +</p> + +<p> +The time for wine came. M. Coquenard poured from a very small stone bottle the +third of a glass for each of the young men, served himself in about the same +proportion, and passed the bottle to Porthos and Mme. Coquenard. +</p> + +<p> +The young men filled up their third of a glass with water; then, when they had +drunk half the glass, they filled it up again, and continued to do so. This +brought them, by the end of the repast, to swallowing a drink which from the +color of the ruby had passed to that of a pale topaz. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos ate his wing of the fowl timidly, and shuddered when he felt the knee +of the procurator’s wife under the table, as it came in search of his. He also +drank half a glass of this sparingly served wine, and found it to be nothing +but that horrible Montreuil—the terror of all expert palates. +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard saw him swallowing this wine undiluted, and sighed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you eat any of these beans, Cousin Porthos?” said Mme. Coquenard, in that +tone which says, “Take my advice, don’t touch them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Devil take me if I taste one of them!” murmured Porthos to himself, and then +said aloud, “Thank you, my cousin, I am no longer hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +There was silence. Porthos could hardly keep his countenance. +</p> + +<p> +The procurator repeated several times, “Ah, Madame Coquenard! Accept my +compliments; your dinner has been a real feast. Lord, how I have eaten!” +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard had eaten his soup, the black feet of the fowl, and the only +mutton bone on which there was the least appearance of meat. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos fancied they were mystifying him, and began to curl his mustache and +knit his eyebrows; but the knee of Mme. Coquenard gently advised him to be +patient. +</p> + +<p> +This silence and this interruption in serving, which were unintelligible to +Porthos, had, on the contrary, a terrible meaning for the clerks. Upon a look +from the procurator, accompanied by a smile from Mme. Coquenard, they arose +slowly from the table, folded their napkins more slowly still, bowed, and +retired. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, young men! go and promote digestion by working,” said the procurator, +gravely. +</p> + +<p> +The clerks gone, Mme. Coquenard rose and took from a buffet a piece of cheese, +some preserved quinces, and a cake which she had herself made of almonds and +honey. +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard knit his eyebrows because there were too many good things. Porthos +bit his lips because he saw not the wherewithal to dine. He looked to see if +the dish of beans was still there; the dish of beans had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“A positive feast!” cried M. Coquenard, turning about in his chair, “a real +feast, <i>epulœ epulorum</i>. Lucullus dines with Lucullus.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos looked at the bottle, which was near him, and hoped that with wine, +bread, and cheese, he might make a dinner; but wine was wanting, the bottle was +empty. M. and Mme. Coquenard did not seem to observe it. +</p> + +<p> +“This is fine!” said Porthos to himself; “I am prettily caught!” +</p> + +<p> +He passed his tongue over a spoonful of preserves, and stuck his teeth into the +sticky pastry of Mme. Coquenard. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said he, “the sacrifice is consummated! Ah! if I had not the hope of +peeping with Madame Coquenard into her husband’s chest!” +</p> + +<p> +M. Coquenard, after the luxuries of such a repast, which he called an excess, +felt the want of a siesta. Porthos began to hope that the thing would take +place at the present sitting, and in that same locality; but the procurator +would listen to nothing, he would be taken to his room, and was not satisfied +till he was close to his chest, upon the edge of which, for still greater +precaution, he placed his feet. +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife took Porthos into an adjoining room, and they began to +lay the basis of a reconciliation. +</p> + +<p> +“You can come and dine three times a week,” said Mme. Coquenard. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, madame!” said Porthos, “but I don’t like to abuse your kindness; +besides, I must think of my outfit!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said the procurator’s wife, groaning, “that unfortunate outfit!” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes,” said Porthos, “it is so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But of what, then, does the equipment of your company consist, Monsieur +Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of many things!” said Porthos. “The Musketeers are, as you know, picked +soldiers, and they require many things useless to the Guardsmen or the Swiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“But yet, detail them to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, they may amount to—“, said Porthos, who preferred discussing the +total to taking them one by one. +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife waited tremblingly. +</p> + +<p> +“To how much?” said she. “I hope it does not exceed—” She stopped; speech +failed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Porthos, “it does not exceed two thousand five hundred livres! I +even think that with economy I could manage it with two thousand livres.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” cried she, “two thousand livres! Why, that is a fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos made a most significant grimace; Mme. Coquenard understood it. +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to know the detail,” said she, “because, having many relatives in +business, I was almost sure of obtaining things at a hundred per cent less than +you would pay yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Porthos, “that is what you meant to say!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear Monsieur Porthos. Thus, for instance, don’t you in the first place +want a horse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then! I can just suit you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Porthos, brightening, “that’s well as regards my horse; but I must +have the appointments complete, as they include objects which a Musketeer alone +can purchase, and which will not amount, besides, to more than three hundred +livres.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three hundred livres? Then put down three hundred livres,” said the +procurator’s wife, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos smiled. It may be remembered that he had the saddle which came from +Buckingham. These three hundred livres he reckoned upon putting snugly into his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued he, “there is a horse for my lackey, and my valise. As to my +arms, it is useless to trouble you about them; I have them.” +</p> + +<p> +“A horse for your lackey?” resumed the procurator’s wife, hesitatingly; “but +that is doing things in lordly style, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame!” said Porthos, haughtily; “do you take me for a beggar?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I only thought that a pretty mule makes sometimes as good an appearance as +a horse, and it seemed to me that by getting a pretty mule for +Mousqueton—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, agreed for a pretty mule,” said Porthos; “you are right, I have seen +very great Spanish nobles whose whole suite were mounted on mules. But then you +understand, Madame Coquenard, a mule with feathers and bells.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied,” said the procurator’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +“There remains the valise,” added Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t let that disturb you,” cried Mme. Coquenard. “My husband has five or +six valises; you shall choose the best. There is one in particular which he +prefers in his journeys, large enough to hold all the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your valise is then empty?” asked Porthos, with simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly it is empty,” replied the procurator’s wife, in real innocence. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but the valise I want,” cried Porthos, “is a well-filled one, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame uttered fresh sighs. Molière had not written his scene in “L’Avare” +then. Mme. Coquenard was in the dilemma of Harpagan. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, the rest of the equipment was successively debated in the same manner; +and the result of the sitting was that the procurator’s wife should give eight +hundred livres in money, and should furnish the horse and the mule which should +have the honor of carrying Porthos and Mousqueton to glory. +</p> + +<p> +These conditions being agreed to, Porthos took leave of Mme. Coquenard. The +latter wished to detain him by darting certain tender glances; but Porthos +urged the commands of duty, and the procurator’s wife was obliged to give place +to the king. +</p> + +<p> +The Musketeer returned home hungry and in bad humor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>Chapter XXXIII.<br/> +SOUBRETTE AND MISTRESS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">eantime</span>, as we have said, despite the cries of his +conscience and the wise counsels of Athos, D’Artagnan became hourly more in +love with Milady. Thus he never failed to pay his diurnal court to her; and the +self-satisfied Gascon was convinced that sooner or later she could not fail to +respond. +</p> + +<p> +One day, when he arrived with his head in the air, and as light at heart as a +man who awaits a shower of gold, he found the <i>soubrette</i> under the +gateway of the hôtel; but this time the pretty Kitty was not contented with +touching him as he passed, she took him gently by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” thought D’Artagnan, “She is charged with some message for me from her +mistress; she is about to appoint some rendezvous of which she had not courage +to speak.” And he looked down at the pretty girl with the most triumphant air +imaginable. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to say three words to you, Monsieur Chevalier,” stammered the +<i>soubrette</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, my child, speak,” said D’Artagnan; “I listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here? Impossible! That which I have to say is too long, and above all, too +secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Monsieur Chevalier would follow me?” said Kitty, timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Where you please, my dear child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then.” +</p> + +<p> +And Kitty, who had not let go the hand of D’Artagnan, led him up a little dark, +winding staircase, and after ascending about fifteen steps, opened a door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in here, Monsieur Chevalier,” said she; “here we shall be alone, and can +talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“And whose room is this, my dear child?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is mine, Monsieur Chevalier; it communicates with my mistress’s by that +door. But you need not fear. She will not hear what we say; she never goes to +bed before midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan cast a glance around him. The little apartment was charming for its +taste and neatness; but in spite of himself, his eyes were directed to that +door which Kitty said led to Milady’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Kitty guessed what was passing in the mind of the young man, and heaved a deep +sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“You love my mistress, then, very dearly, Monsieur Chevalier?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, more than I can say, Kitty! I am mad for her!” +</p> + +<p> +Kitty breathed a second sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, monsieur,” said she, “that is too bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you see so bad in it?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, monsieur,” replied Kitty, “my mistress loves you not at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hein!</i>” said D’Artagnan, “can she have charged you to tell me so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, monsieur; but out of the regard I have for you, I have taken the +resolution to tell you so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged, my dear Kitty; but for the intention only—for the +information, you must agree, is not likely to be at all agreeable.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, you don’t believe what I have told you; is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have always some difficulty in believing such things, my pretty dear, were +it only from self-love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you don’t believe me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess that unless you deign to give me some proof of what you +advance—” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of this?” +</p> + +<p> +Kitty drew a little note from her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” said D’Artagnan, seizing the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“No; for another.” +</p> + +<p> +“For another?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“His name; his name!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Read the address.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur El Comte de Wardes.” +</p> + +<p> +The remembrance of the scene at St. Germain presented itself to the mind of the +presumptuous Gascon. As quick as thought, he tore open the letter, in spite of +the cry which Kitty uttered on seeing what he was going to do, or rather, what +he was doing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good Lord, Monsieur Chevalier,” said she, “what are you doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” said D’Artagnan; “nothing,” and he read, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“You have not answered my first note. Are you indisposed, or have you forgotten +the glances you favored me with at the ball of Mme. de Guise? You have an +opportunity now, Count; do not allow it to escape.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan became very pale; he was wounded in his <i>self</i>-love: he thought +that it was in his <i>love</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor dear Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Kitty, in a voice full of compassion, and +pressing anew the young man’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You pity me, little one?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, and with all my heart; for I know what it is to be in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know what it is to be in love?” said D’Artagnan, looking at her for the +first time with much attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, instead of pitying me, you would do much better to assist me in +avenging myself on your mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what sort of revenge would you take?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would triumph over her, and supplant my rival.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will never help you in that, Monsieur Chevalier,” said Kitty, warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“And why not?” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“For two reasons.” +</p> + +<p> +“What ones?” +</p> + +<p> +“The first is that my mistress will never love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have cut her to the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? In what can I have offended her—I who ever since I have known her +have lived at her feet like a slave? Speak, I beg you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will never confess that but to the man—who should read to the bottom +of my soul!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked at Kitty for the second time. The young girl had freshness +and beauty which many duchesses would have purchased with their coronets. +</p> + +<p> +“Kitty,” said he, “I will read to the bottom of your soul whenever you like; +don’t let that disturb you.” And he gave her a kiss at which the poor girl +became as red as a cherry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” said Kitty, “it is not me you love! It is my mistress you love; you +told me so just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“And does that hinder you from letting me know the second reason?” +</p> + +<p> +“The second reason, Monsieur the Chevalier,” replied Kitty, emboldened by the +kiss in the first place, and still further by the expression of the eyes of the +young man, “is that in love, everyone for herself!” +</p> + +<p> +Then only D’Artagnan remembered the languishing glances of Kitty, her +constantly meeting him in the antechamber, the corridor, or on the stairs, +those touches of the hand every time she met him, and her deep sighs; but +absorbed by his desire to please the great lady, he had disdained the +<i>soubrette</i>. He whose game is the eagle takes no heed of the sparrow. +</p> + +<p> +But this time our Gascon saw at a glance all the advantage to be derived from +the love which Kitty had just confessed so innocently, or so boldly: the +interception of letters addressed to the Comte de Wardes, news on the spot, +entrance at all hours into Kitty’s chamber, which was contiguous to her +mistress’s. The perfidious deceiver was, as may plainly be perceived, already +sacrificing, in intention, the poor girl in order to obtain Milady, +willy-nilly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he to the young girl, “are you willing, my dear Kitty, that I +should give you a proof of that love which you doubt?” +</p> + +<p> +“What love?” asked the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Of that which I am ready to feel toward you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that proof?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you willing that I should this evening pass with you the time I generally +spend with your mistress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Kitty, clapping her hands, “very willing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, come here, my dear,” said D’Artagnan, establishing himself in an +easy chair; “come, and let me tell you that you are the prettiest +<i>soubrette</i> I ever saw!” +</p> + +<p> +And he did tell her so much, and so well, that the poor girl, who asked nothing +better than to believe him, did believe him. Nevertheless, to D’Artagnan’s +great astonishment, the pretty Kitty defended herself resolutely. +</p> + +<p> +Time passes quickly when it is passed in attacks and defenses. Midnight +sounded, and almost at the same time the bell was rung in Milady’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God,” cried Kitty, “there is my mistress calling me! Go; go directly!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan rose, took his hat, as if it had been his intention to obey, then, +opening quickly the door of a large closet instead of that leading to the +staircase, he buried himself amid the robes and dressing gowns of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing?” cried Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who had secured the key, shut himself up in the closet without +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” cried Milady, in a sharp voice. “Are you asleep, that you don’t answer +when I ring?” +</p> + +<p> +And D’Artagnan heard the door of communication opened violently. +</p> + +<p> +“Here am I, Milady, here am I!” cried Kitty, springing forward to meet her +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Both went into the bedroom, and as the door of communication remained open, +D’Artagnan could hear Milady for some time scolding her maid. She was at length +appeased, and the conversation turned upon him while Kitty was assisting her +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Milady, “I have not seen our Gascon this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, Milady! has he not come?” said Kitty. “Can he be inconstant before being +happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; he must have been prevented by Monsieur de Tréville or Monsieur +Dessessart. I understand my game, Kitty; I have this one safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do with him, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“What will I do with him? Be easy, Kitty, there is something between that man +and me that he is quite ignorant of: he nearly made me lose my credit with his +Eminence. Oh, I will be revenged!” +</p> + +<p> +“I believed that Madame loved him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I love him? I detest him! An idiot, who held the life of Lord de Winter in his +hands and did not kill him, by which I missed three hundred thousand livres’ +income.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Kitty; “your son was the only heir of his uncle, and until +his majority you would have had the enjoyment of his fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan shuddered to the marrow at hearing this suave creature reproach him, +with that sharp voice which she took such pains to conceal in conversation, for +not having killed a man whom he had seen load her with kindnesses. +</p> + +<p> +“For all this,” continued Milady, “I should long ago have revenged myself on +him if, and I don’t know why, the cardinal had not requested me to conciliate +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; but Madame has not conciliated that little woman he was so fond of.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, the mercer’s wife of the Rue des Fossoyeurs? Has he not already +forgotten she ever existed? Fine vengeance that, on my faith!” +</p> + +<p> +A cold sweat broke from D’Artagnan’s brow. Why, this woman was a monster! He +resumed his listening, but unfortunately the toilet was finished. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” said Milady; “go into your own room, and tomorrow endeavor +again to get me an answer to the letter I gave you.” +</p> + +<p> +“For Monsieur de Wardes?” said Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure; for Monsieur de Wardes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, there is one,” said Kitty, “who appears to me quite a different sort of a +man from that poor Monsieur d’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to bed, mademoiselle,” said Milady; “I don’t like comments.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan heard the door close; then the noise of two bolts by which Milady +fastened herself in. On her side, but as softly as possible, Kitty turned the +key of the lock, and then D’Artagnan opened the closet door. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good Lord!” said Kitty, in a low voice, “what is the matter with you? How +pale you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“The abominable creature,” murmured D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, silence, begone!” said Kitty. “There is nothing but a wainscot +between my chamber and Milady’s; every word that is uttered in one can be heard +in the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s exactly the reason I won’t go,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said Kitty, blushing. +</p> + +<p> +“Or, at least, I will go—later.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew Kitty to him. She had the less motive to resist, resistance would make +so much noise. Therefore Kitty surrendered. +</p> + +<p> +It was a movement of vengeance upon Milady. D’Artagnan believed it right to say +that vengeance is the pleasure of the gods. With a little more heart, he might +have been contented with this new conquest; but the principal features of his +character were ambition and pride. It must, however, be confessed in his +justification that the first use he made of his influence over Kitty was to try +and find out what had become of Mme. Bonacieux; but the poor girl swore upon +the crucifix to D’Artagnan that she was entirely ignorant on that head, her +mistress never admitting her into half her secrets—only she believed she +could say she was not dead. +</p> + +<p> +As to the cause which was near making Milady lose her credit with the cardinal, +Kitty knew nothing about it; but this time D’Artagnan was better informed than +she was. As he had seen Milady on board a vessel at the moment he was leaving +England, he suspected that it was, almost without a doubt, on account of the +diamond studs. +</p> + +<p> +But what was clearest in all this was that the true hatred, the profound +hatred, the inveterate hatred of Milady, was increased by his not having killed +her brother-in-law. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan came the next day to Milady’s, and finding her in a very ill-humor, +had no doubt that it was lack of an answer from M. de Wardes that provoked her +thus. Kitty came in, but Milady was very cross with her. The poor girl ventured +a glance at D’Artagnan which said, “See how I suffer on your account!” +</p> + +<p> +Toward the end of the evening, however, the beautiful lioness became milder; +she smilingly listened to the soft speeches of D’Artagnan, and even gave him +her hand to kiss. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan departed, scarcely knowing what to think, but as he was a youth who +did not easily lose his head, while continuing to pay his court to Milady, he +had framed a little plan in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +He found Kitty at the gate, and, as on the preceding evening, went up to her +chamber. Kitty had been accused of negligence and severely scolded. Milady +could not at all comprehend the silence of the Comte de Wardes, and she ordered +Kitty to come at nine o’clock in the morning to take a third letter. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan made Kitty promise to bring him that letter on the following +morning. The poor girl promised all her lover desired; she was mad. +</p> + +<p> +Things passed as on the night before. D’Artagnan concealed himself in his +closet; Milady called, undressed, sent away Kitty, and shut the door. As the +night before, D’Artagnan did not return home till five o’clock in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +At eleven o’clock Kitty came to him. She held in her hand a fresh billet from +Milady. This time the poor girl did not even argue with D’Artagnan; she gave it +to him at once. She belonged body and soul to her handsome soldier. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan opened the letter and read as follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +This is the third time I have written to you to tell you that I love you. +Beware that I do not write to you a fourth time to tell you that I detest +you.<br/> + If you repent of the manner in which you have acted toward me, the young +girl who brings you this will tell you how a man of spirit may obtain his +pardon. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan colored and grew pale several times in reading this billet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you love her still,” said Kitty, who had not taken her eyes off the young +man’s countenance for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Kitty, you are mistaken. I do not love her, but I will avenge myself for +her contempt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I know what sort of vengeance! You told me that!” +</p> + +<p> +“What matters it to you, Kitty? You know it is you alone whom I love.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the scorn I will throw upon her.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took a pen and wrote: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>ADAME</small>, Until the present moment I could not believe that it was +to me your first two letters were addressed, so unworthy did I feel myself of +such an honor; besides, I was so seriously indisposed that I could not in any +case have replied to them.<br/> + But now I am forced to believe in the excess of your kindness, since not only +your letter but your servant assures me that I have the good fortune to be +beloved by you.<br/> + She has no occasion to teach me the way in which a man of spirit may obtain his +pardon. I will come and ask mine at eleven o’clock this evening.<br/> + To delay it a single day would be in my eyes now to commit a fresh offense.<br/> + From him whom you have rendered the happiest of men, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +C<small>OMTE DE</small> W<small>ARDES</small> +</p> + +<p> +This note was in the first place a forgery; it was likewise an indelicacy. It +was even, according to our present manners, something like an infamous action; +but at that period people did not manage affairs as they do today. Besides, +D’Artagnan from her own admission knew Milady culpable of treachery in matters +more important, and could entertain no respect for her. And yet, +notwithstanding this want of respect, he felt an uncontrollable passion for +this woman boiling in his veins—passion drunk with contempt; but passion +or thirst, as the reader pleases. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan’s plan was very simple. By Kitty’s chamber he could gain that of her +mistress. He would take advantage of the first moment of surprise, shame, and +terror, to triumph over her. He might fail, but something must be left to +chance. In eight days the campaign would open, and he would be compelled to +leave Paris; D’Artagnan had no time for a prolonged love siege. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said the young man, handing Kitty the letter sealed; “give that to +Milady. It is the count’s reply.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Kitty became as pale as death; she suspected what the letter contained. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my dear girl,” said D’Artagnan; “you cannot but perceive that all this +must end, some way or other. Milady may discover that you gave the first billet +to my lackey instead of to the count’s; that it is I who have opened the others +which ought to have been opened by de Wardes. Milady will then turn you out of +doors, and you know she is not the woman to limit her vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Kitty, “for whom have I exposed myself to all that?” +</p> + +<p> +“For me, I well know, my sweet girl,” said D’Artagnan. “But I am grateful, I +swear to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what does this note contain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Milady will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you do not love me!” cried Kitty, “and I am very wretched.” +</p> + +<p> +To this reproach there is always one response which deludes women. D’Artagnan +replied in such a manner that Kitty remained in her great delusion. Although +she cried freely before deciding to transmit the letter to her mistress, she +did at last so decide, which was all D’Artagnan wished. Finally he promised +that he would leave her mistress’s presence at an early hour that evening, and +that when he left the mistress he would ascend with the maid. This promise +completed poor Kitty’s consolation. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>Chapter XXXIV.<br/> +IN WHICH THE EQUIPMENT OF ARAMIS AND PORTHOS IS TREATED OF</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">S</span><span +class="dropspan">ince</span> the four friends had been each in search of his +equipments, there had been no fixed meeting between them. They dined apart from +one another, wherever they might happen to be, or rather where they could. Duty +likewise on its part took a portion of that precious time which was gliding +away so rapidly—only they had agreed to meet once a week, about one +o’clock, at the residence of Athos, seeing that he, in agreement with the vow +he had formed, did not pass over the threshold of his door. +</p> + +<p> +This day of reunion was the same day as that on which Kitty came to find +D’Artagnan. Soon as Kitty left him, D’Artagnan directed his steps toward the +Rue Férou. +</p> + +<p> +He found Athos and Aramis philosophizing. Aramis had some slight inclination to +resume the cassock. Athos, according to his system, neither encouraged nor +dissuaded him. Athos believed that everyone should be left to his own free +will. He never gave advice but when it was asked, and even then he required to +be asked twice. +</p> + +<p> +“People, in general,” he said, “only ask advice not to follow it; or if they do +follow it, it is for the sake of having someone to blame for having given it.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos arrived a minute after D’Artagnan. The four friends were reunited. +</p> + +<p> +The four countenances expressed four different feelings: that of Porthos, +tranquillity; that of D’Artagnan, hope; that of Aramis, uneasiness; that of +Athos, carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of a moment’s conversation, in which Porthos hinted that a lady of +elevated rank had condescended to relieve him from his embarrassment, +Mousqueton entered. He came to request his master to return to his lodgings, +where his presence was urgent, as he piteously said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it my equipment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes and no,” replied Mousqueton. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but can’t you speak?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos rose, saluted his friends, and followed Mousqueton. An instant after, +Bazin made his appearance at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want with me, my friend?” said Aramis, with that mildness of +language which was observable in him every time that his ideas were directed +toward the Church. +</p> + +<p> +“A man wishes to see Monsieur at home,” replied Bazin. +</p> + +<p> +“A man! What man?” +</p> + +<p> +“A mendicant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give him alms, Bazin, and bid him pray for a poor sinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“This mendicant insists upon speaking to you, and pretends that you will be +very glad to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he sent no particular message for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. If Monsieur Aramis hesitates to come,” he said, “tell him I am from +Tours.” +</p> + +<p> +“From Tours!” cried Aramis. “A thousand pardons, gentlemen; but no doubt this +man brings me the news I expected.” And rising also, he went off at a quick +pace. There remained Athos and D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe these fellows have managed their business. What do you think, +D’Artagnan?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that Porthos was in a fair way,” replied D’Artagnan; “and as to Aramis +to tell you the truth, I have never been seriously uneasy on his account. But +you, my dear Athos—you, who so generously distributed the Englishman’s +pistoles, which were our legitimate property—what do you mean to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am satisfied with having killed that fellow, my boy, seeing that it is +blessed bread to kill an Englishman; but if I had pocketed his pistoles, they +would have weighed me down like a remorse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to, my dear Athos; you have truly inconceivable ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let it pass. What do you think of Monsieur de Tréville telling me, when he did +me the honor to call upon me yesterday, that you associated with the suspected +English, whom the cardinal protects?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, I visit an Englishwoman—the one I named.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ay! the fair woman on whose account I gave you advice, which naturally you +took care not to adopt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave you my reasons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you look there for your outfit, I think you said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all. I have acquired certain knowledge that that woman was concerned in +the abduction of Madame Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I understand now: to find one woman, you court another. It is the longest +road, but certainly the most amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was on the point of telling Athos all; but one consideration +restrained him. Athos was a gentleman, punctilious in points of honor; and +there were in the plan which our lover had devised for Milady, he was sure, +certain things that would not obtain the assent of this Puritan. He was +therefore silent; and as Athos was the least inquisitive of any man on earth, +D’Artagnan’s confidence stopped there. We will therefore leave the two friends, +who had nothing important to say to each other, and follow Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +Upon being informed that the person who wanted to speak to him came from Tours, +we have seen with what rapidity the young man followed, or rather went before, +Bazin; he ran without stopping from the Rue Férou to the Rue de Vaugirard. On +entering he found a man of short stature and intelligent eyes, but covered with +rags. +</p> + +<p> +“You have asked for me?” said the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to speak with Monsieur Aramis. Is that your name, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“My very own. You have brought me something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you show me a certain embroidered handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is,” said Aramis, taking a small key from his breast and opening a +little ebony box inlaid with mother of pearl, “here it is. Look.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is right,” replied the mendicant; “dismiss your lackey.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, Bazin, curious to know what the mendicant could want with his master, +kept pace with him as well as he could, and arrived almost at the same time he +did; but his quickness was not of much use to him. At the hint from the +mendicant his master made him a sign to retire, and he was obliged to obey. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin gone, the mendicant cast a rapid glance around him in order to be sure +that nobody could either see or hear him, and opening his ragged vest, badly +held together by a leather strap, he began to rip the upper part of his +doublet, from which he drew a letter. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis uttered a cry of joy at the sight of the seal, kissed the superscription +with an almost religious respect, and opened the epistle, which contained what +follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My Friend, it is the will of fate that we should be still for some time +separated; but the delightful days of youth are not lost beyond return. Perform +your duty in camp; I will do mine elsewhere. Accept that which the bearer +brings you; make the campaign like a handsome true gentleman, and think of me, +who kisses tenderly your black eyes.<br/> + “Adieu; or rather, <i>au revoir</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +The mendicant continued to rip his garments; and drew from amid his rags a +hundred and fifty Spanish double pistoles, which he laid down on the table; +then he opened the door, bowed, and went out before the young man, stupefied by +his letter, had ventured to address a word to him. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis then reperused the letter, and perceived a postscript: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +PS. You may behave politely to the bearer, who is a count and a grandee of +Spain! +</p> + +<p> +“Golden dreams!” cried Aramis. “Oh, beautiful life! Yes, we are young; yes, we +shall yet have happy days! My love, my blood, my life! all, all, all, are +thine, my adored mistress!” +</p> + +<p> +And he kissed the letter with passion, without even vouchsafing a look at the +gold which sparkled on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin scratched at the door, and as Aramis had no longer any reason to exclude +him, he bade him come in. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin was stupefied at the sight of the gold, and forgot that he came to +announce D’Artagnan, who, curious to know who the mendicant could be, came to +Aramis on leaving Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as D’Artagnan used no ceremony with Aramis, seeing that Bazin forgot to +announce him, he announced himself. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! my dear Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, “if these are the prunes that are +sent to you from Tours, I beg you will make my compliments to the gardener who +gathers them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, friend D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, always on his guard; “this +is from my publisher, who has just sent me the price of that poem in +one-syllable verse which I began yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed,” said D’Artagnan. “Well, your publisher is very generous, my dear +Aramis, that’s all I can say.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, monsieur?” cried Bazin, “a poem sell so dear as that! It is incredible! +Oh, monsieur, you can write as much as you like; you may become equal to +Monsieur de Voiture and Monsieur de Benserade. I like that. A poet is as good +as an abbé. Ah! Monsieur Aramis, become a poet, I beg of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bazin, my friend,” said Aramis, “I believe you meddle with my conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +Bazin perceived he was wrong; he bowed and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said D’Artagnan with a smile, “you sell your productions at their weight +in gold. You are very fortunate, my friend; but take care or you will lose that +letter which is peeping from your doublet, and which also comes, no doubt, from +your publisher.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis blushed to the eyes, crammed in the letter, and re-buttoned his doublet. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear D’Artagnan,” said he, “if you please, we will join our friends; as I +am rich, we will today begin to dine together again, expecting that you will be +rich in your turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith!” said D’Artagnan, with great pleasure. “It is long since we have had +a good dinner; and I, for my part, have a somewhat hazardous expedition for +this evening, and shall not be sorry, I confess, to fortify myself with a few +glasses of good old Burgundy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed, as to the old Burgundy; I have no objection to that,” said Aramis, +from whom the letter and the gold had removed, as by magic, his ideas of +conversion. +</p> + +<p> +And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket to answer the +needs of the moment, he placed the others in the ebony box, inlaid with mother +of pearl, in which was the famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman. +</p> + +<p> +The two friends repaired to Athos’s, and he, faithful to his vow of not going +out, took upon him to order dinner to be brought to them. As he was perfectly +acquainted with the details of gastronomy, D’Artagnan and Aramis made no +objection to abandoning this important care to him. +</p> + +<p> +They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac met Mousqueton, +who, with a most pitiable air, was driving before him a mule and a horse. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite free from joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my yellow horse,” cried he. “Aramis, look at that horse!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the frightful brute!” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear,” replied D’Artagnan, “upon that very horse I came to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, does Monsieur know this horse?” said Mousqueton. +</p> + +<p> +“It is of an original color,” said Aramis; “I never saw one with such a hide in +my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can well believe it,” replied D’Artagnan, “and that was why I got three +crowns for him. It must have been for his hide, for, <i>certes</i>, the carcass +is not worth eighteen livres. But how did this horse come into your hands, +Mousqueton?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray,” said the lackey, “say nothing about it, monsieur; it is a frightful +trick of the husband of our duchess!” +</p> + +<p> +“How is that, Mousqueton?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a lady of quality, the +Duchesse de—but, your pardon; my master has commanded me to be discreet. +She had forced us to accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish +<i>genet</i> and an Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The +husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the two magnificent +beasts which were being sent to us, and substituted these horrible animals.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you are taking back to him?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” replied Mousqueton. “You may well believe that we will not accept +such steeds as these in exchange for those which had been promised to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, <i>pardieu;</i> though I should like to have seen Porthos on my yellow +horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked when I arrived in Paris. But +don’t let us hinder you, Mousqueton; go and perform your master’s orders. Is he +at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” said Mousqueton, “but in a very ill humor. Get up!” +</p> + +<p> +He continued his way toward the Quai des Grands Augustins, while the two +friends went to ring at the bell of the unfortunate Porthos. He, having seen +them crossing the yard, took care not to answer, and they rang in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Mousqueton continued on his way, and crossing the Pont Neuf, still +driving the two sorry animals before him, he reached the Rue aux Ours. Arrived +there, he fastened, according to the orders of his master, both horse and mule +to the knocker of the procurator’s door; then, without taking any thought for +their future, he returned to Porthos, and told him that his commission was +completed. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time the two unfortunate beasts, who had not eaten anything since +the morning, made such a noise in raising and letting fall the knocker that the +procurator ordered his errand boy to go and inquire in the neighborhood to whom +this horse and mule belonged. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard recognized her present, and could not at first comprehend this +restitution; but the visit of Porthos soon enlightened her. The anger which +fired the eyes of the Musketeer, in spite of his efforts to suppress it, +terrified his sensitive inamorata. In fact, Mousqueton had not concealed from +his master that he had met D’Artagnan and Aramis, and that D’Artagnan in the +yellow horse had recognized the Béarnese pony upon which he had come to Paris, +and which he had sold for three crowns. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos went away after having appointed a meeting with the procurator’s wife +in the cloister of St. Magloire. The procurator, seeing he was going, invited +him to dinner—an invitation which the Musketeer refused with a majestic +air. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Coquenard repaired trembling to the cloister of St. Magloire, for she +guessed the reproaches that awaited her there; but she was fascinated by the +lofty airs of Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +All that which a man wounded in his self-love could let fall in the shape of +imprecations and reproaches upon the head of a woman Porthos let fall upon the +bowed head of the procurator’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” said she, “I did all for the best! One of our clients is a horsedealer; +he owes money to the office, and is backward in his pay. I took the mule and +the horse for what he owed us; he assured me that they were two noble steeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame,” said Porthos, “if he owed you more than five crowns, your +horsedealer is a thief.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no harm in trying to buy things cheap, Monsieur Porthos,” said the +procurator’s wife, seeking to excuse herself. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; but they who so assiduously try to buy things cheap ought to +permit others to seek more generous friends.” And Porthos, turning on his heel, +made a step to retire. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Porthos! Monsieur Porthos!” cried the procurator’s wife. “I have been +wrong; I see it. I ought not to have driven a bargain when it was to equip a +cavalier like you.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos, without reply, retreated a second step. The procurator’s wife fancied +she saw him in a brilliant cloud, all surrounded by duchesses and +marchionesses, who cast bags of money at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, in the name of heaven, Monsieur Porthos!” cried she. “Stop, and let us +talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talking with you brings me misfortune,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“But, tell me, what do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; for that amounts to the same thing as if I asked you for something.” +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife hung upon the arm of Porthos, and in the violence of her +grief she cried out, “Monsieur Porthos, I am ignorant of all such matters! How +should I know what a horse is? How should I know what horse furniture is?” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have left it to me, then, madame, who know what they are; but you +wished to be frugal, and consequently to lend at usury.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was wrong, Monsieur Porthos; but I will repair that wrong, upon my word of +honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” asked the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen. This evening M. Coquenard is going to the house of the Duc de +Chaulnes, who has sent for him. It is for a consultation, which will last three +hours at least. Come! We shall be alone, and can make up our accounts.” +</p> + +<p> +“In good time. Now you talk, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“You pardon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see,” said Porthos, majestically; and the two separated saying, “Till +this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” thought Porthos, as he walked away, “it appears I am getting +nearer to Monsieur Coquenard’s strongbox at last.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>Chapter XXXV.<br/> +A GASCON A MATCH FOR CUPID</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> evening so impatiently waited for by Porthos and by +D’Artagnan at last arrived. +</p> + +<p> +As was his custom, D’Artagnan presented himself at Milady’s at about nine +o’clock. He found her in a charming humor. Never had he been so well received. +Our Gascon knew, by the first glance of his eye, that his billet had been +delivered, and that this billet had had its effect. +</p> + +<p> +Kitty entered to bring some sherbet. Her mistress put on a charming face, and +smiled on her graciously; but alas! the poor girl was so sad that she did not +even notice Milady’s condescension. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked at the two women, one after the other, and was forced to +acknowledge that in his opinion Dame Nature had made a mistake in their +formation. To the great lady she had given a heart vile and venal; to the +<i>soubrette</i> she had given the heart of a duchess. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock Milady began to appear restless. D’Artagnan knew what she +wanted. She looked at the clock, rose, reseated herself, smiled at D’Artagnan +with an air which said, “You are very amiable, no doubt, but you would be +<i>charming</i> if you would only depart.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan rose and took his hat; Milady gave him her hand to kiss. The young +man felt her press his hand, and comprehended that this was a sentiment, not of +coquetry, but of gratitude because of his departure. +</p> + +<p> +“She loves him devilishly,” he murmured. Then he went out. +</p> + +<p> +This time Kitty was nowhere waiting for him; neither in the antechamber, nor in +the corridor, nor beneath the great door. It was necessary that D’Artagnan +should find alone the staircase and the little chamber. She heard him enter, +but she did not raise her head. The young man went to her and took her hands; +then she sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +As D’Artagnan had presumed, on receiving his letter, Milady in a delirium of +joy had told her servant everything; and by way of recompense for the manner in +which she had this time executed the commission, she had given Kitty a purse. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to her own room, Kitty had thrown the purse into a corner, where it +lay open, disgorging three or four gold pieces on the carpet. The poor girl, +under the caresses of D’Artagnan, lifted her head. D’Artagnan himself was +frightened by the change in her countenance. She joined her hands with a +suppliant air, but without venturing to speak a word. As little sensitive as +was the heart of D’Artagnan, he was touched by this mute sorrow; but he held +too tenaciously to his projects, above all to this one, to change the program +which he had laid out in advance. He did not therefore allow her any hope that +he would flinch; only he represented his action as one of simple vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest this vengeance was very easy; for Milady, doubtless to conceal her +blushes from her lover, had ordered Kitty to extinguish all the lights in the +apartment, and even in the little chamber itself. Before daybreak M. de Wardes +must take his departure, still in obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they heard Milady retire to her room. D’Artagnan slipped into the +wardrobe. Hardly was he concealed when the little bell sounded. Kitty went to +her mistress, and did not leave the door open; but the partition was so thin +that one could hear nearly all that passed between the two women. +</p> + +<p> +Milady seemed overcome with joy, and made Kitty repeat the smallest details of +the pretended interview of the <i>soubrette</i> with De Wardes when he received +the letter; how he had responded; what was the expression of his face; if he +seemed very amorous. And to all these questions poor Kitty, forced to put on a +pleasant face, responded in a stifled voice whose dolorous accent her mistress +did not however remark, solely because happiness is egotistical. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, as the hour for her interview with the count approached, Milady had +everything about her darkened, and ordered Kitty to return to her own chamber, +and introduce De Wardes whenever he presented himself. +</p> + +<p> +Kitty’s detention was not long. Hardly had D’Artagnan seen, through a crevice +in his closet, that the whole apartment was in obscurity, than he slipped out +of his concealment, at the very moment when Kitty reclosed the door of +communication. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that noise?” demanded Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I,” said D’Artagnan in a subdued voice, “I, the Comte de Wardes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” murmured Kitty, “he has not even waited for the hour he +himself named!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Milady, in a trembling voice, “why do you not enter? Count, +Count,” added she, “you know that I wait for you.” +</p> + +<p> +At this appeal D’Artagnan drew Kitty quietly away, and slipped into the +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +If rage or sorrow ever torture the heart, it is when a lover receives under a +name which is not his own protestations of love addressed to his happy rival. +D’Artagnan was in a dolorous situation which he had not foreseen. Jealousy +gnawed his heart; and he suffered almost as much as poor Kitty, who at that +very moment was crying in the next chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Count,” said Milady, in her softest voice, and pressing his hand in her +own, “I am happy in the love which your looks and your words have expressed to +me every time we have met. I also—I love you. Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, I +must have some pledge from you which will prove that you think of me; and that +you may not forget me, take this!” and she slipped a ring from her finger onto +D’Artagnan’s. D’Artagnan remembered having seen this ring on the finger of +Milady; it was a magnificent sapphire, encircled with brilliants. +</p> + +<p> +The first movement of D’Artagnan was to return it, but Milady added, “No, no! +Keep that ring for love of me. Besides, in accepting it,” she added, in a voice +full of emotion, “you render me a much greater service than you imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +“This woman is full of mysteries,” murmured D’Artagnan to himself. At that +instant he felt himself ready to reveal all. He even opened his mouth to tell +Milady who he was, and with what a revengeful purpose he had come; but she +added, “Poor angel, whom that monster of a Gascon barely failed to kill.” +</p> + +<p> +The monster was himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” continued Milady, “do your wounds still make you suffer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, much,” said D’Artagnan, who did not well know how to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Be tranquil,” murmured Milady; “I will avenge you—and cruelly!” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Peste!</i>” said D’Artagnan to himself, “the moment for confidences has not +yet come.” +</p> + +<p> +It took some time for D’Artagnan to resume this little dialogue; but then all +the ideas of vengeance which he had brought with him had completely vanished. +This woman exercised over him an unaccountable power; he hated and adored her +at the same time. He would not have believed that two sentiments so opposite +could dwell in the same heart, and by their union constitute a passion so +strange, and as it were, diabolical. +</p> + +<p> +Presently it sounded one o’clock. It was necessary to separate. D’Artagnan at +the moment of quitting Milady felt only the liveliest regret at the parting; +and as they addressed each other in a reciprocally passionate adieu, another +interview was arranged for the following week. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Kitty hoped to speak a few words to D’Artagnan when he passed through her +chamber; but Milady herself reconducted him through the darkness, and only quit +him at the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning D’Artagnan ran to find Athos. He was engaged in an adventure +so singular that he wished for counsel. He therefore told him all. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Milady,” said he, “appears to be an infamous creature, but not the less +you have done wrong to deceive her. In one fashion or another you have a +terrible enemy on your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +While thus speaking Athos regarded with attention the sapphire set with +diamonds which had taken, on D’Artagnan’s finger, the place of the queen’s +ring, carefully kept in a casket. +</p> + +<p> +“You notice my ring?” said the Gascon, proud to display so rich a gift in the +eyes of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Athos, “it reminds me of a family jewel.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is beautiful, is it not?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Athos, “magnificent. I did not think two sapphires of such a fine +water existed. Have you traded it for your diamond?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. It is a gift from my beautiful Englishwoman, or rather +Frenchwoman—for I am convinced she was born in France, though I have not +questioned her.” +</p> + +<p> +“That ring comes from Milady?” cried Athos, with a voice in which it was easy +to detect strong emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Her very self; she gave it me last night. Here it is,” replied D’Artagnan, +taking it from his finger. +</p> + +<p> +Athos examined it and became very pale. He tried it on his left hand; it fit +his finger as if made for it. +</p> + +<p> +A shade of anger and vengeance passed across the usually calm brow of this +gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible it can be she,” said he. “How could this ring come into the +hands of Milady Clarik? And yet it is difficult to suppose such a resemblance +should exist between two jewels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know this ring?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I did,” replied Athos; “but no doubt I was mistaken.” And he +returned D’Artagnan the ring without, however, ceasing to look at it. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, after a minute, “either take off that ring or +turn the mounting inside; it recalls such cruel recollections that I shall have +no head to converse with you. Don’t ask me for counsel; don’t tell me you are +perplexed what to do. But stop! let me look at that sapphire again; the one I +mentioned to you had one of its faces scratched by accident.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took off the ring, giving it again to Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Athos started. “Look,” said he, “is it not strange?” and he pointed out to +D’Artagnan the scratch he had remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“But from whom did this ring come to you, Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“From my mother, who inherited it from her mother. As I told you, it is an old +family jewel.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you—sold it?” asked D’Artagnan, hesitatingly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Athos, with a singular smile. “I gave it away in a night of love, +as it has been given to you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan became pensive in his turn; it appeared as if there were abysses in +Milady’s soul whose depths were dark and unknown. He took back the ring, but +put it in his pocket and not on his finger. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan,” said Athos, taking his hand, “you know I love you; if I had a son +I could not love him better. Take my advice, renounce this woman. I do not know +her, but a sort of intuition tells me she is a lost creature, and that there is +something fatal about her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said D’Artagnan; “I will have done with her. I own that this +woman terrifies me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you have the courage?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall,” replied D’Artagnan, “and instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, my young friend, you will act rightly,” said the gentleman, pressing +the Gascon’s hand with an affection almost paternal; “and God grant that this +woman, who has scarcely entered into your life, may not leave a terrible trace +in it!” And Athos bowed to D’Artagnan like a man who wishes it understood that +he would not be sorry to be left alone with his thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching home D’Artagnan found Kitty waiting for him. A month of fever could +not have changed her more than this one night of sleeplessness and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +She was sent by her mistress to the false De Wardes. Her mistress was mad with +love, intoxicated with joy. She wished to know when her lover would meet her a +second night; and poor Kitty, pale and trembling, awaited D’Artagnan’s reply. +The counsels of his friend, joined to the cries of his own heart, made him +determine, now his pride was saved and his vengeance satisfied, not to see +Milady again. As a reply, he wrote the following letter: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting. Since my convalescence I +have so many affairs of this kind on my hands that I am forced to regulate them +a little. When your turn comes, I shall have the honor to inform you of it. I +kiss your hands. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +C<small>OMTE DE</small> W<small>ARDES</small> +</p> + +<p> +Not a word about the sapphire. Was the Gascon determined to keep it as a weapon +against Milady, or else, let us be frank, did he not reserve the sapphire as a +last resource for his outfit? It would be wrong to judge the actions of one +period from the point of view of another. That which would now be considered as +disgraceful to a gentleman was at that time quite a simple and natural affair, +and the younger sons of the best families were frequently supported by their +mistresses. D’Artagnan gave the open letter to Kitty, who at first was unable +to comprehend it, but who became almost wild with joy on reading it a second +time. She could scarcely believe in her happiness; and D’Artagnan was forced to +renew with the living voice the assurances which he had written. And whatever +might be—considering the violent character of Milady—the danger +which the poor girl incurred in giving this billet to her mistress, she ran +back to the Place Royale as fast as her legs could carry her. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the best woman is pitiless toward the sorrows of a rival. +</p> + +<p> +Milady opened the letter with eagerness equal to Kitty’s in bringing it; but at +the first words she read she became livid. She crushed the paper in her hand, +and turning with flashing eyes upon Kitty, she cried, “What is this letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“The answer to Madame’s,” replied Kitty, all in a tremble. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” cried Milady. “It is impossible a gentleman could have written +such a letter to a woman.” Then all at once, starting, she cried, “My God! can +he have—” and she stopped. She ground her teeth; she was of the color of +ashes. She tried to go toward the window for air, but she could only stretch +forth her arms; her legs failed her, and she sank into an armchair. Kitty, +fearing she was ill, hastened toward her and was beginning to open her dress; +but Milady started up, pushing her away. “What do you want with me?” said she, +“and why do you place your hand on me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that Madame was ill, and I wished to bring her help,” responded the +maid, frightened at the terrible expression which had come over her mistress’s +face. +</p> + +<p> +“I faint? I? I? Do you take me for half a woman? When I am insulted I do not +faint; I avenge myself!” +</p> + +<p> +And she made a sign for Kitty to leave the room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>Chapter XXXVI.<br/> +DREAM OF VENGEANCE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">hat</span> evening Milady gave orders that when M. d’Artagnan +came as usual, he should be immediately admitted; but he did not come. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Kitty went to see the young man again, and related to him all that +had passed on the preceding evening. D’Artagnan smiled; this jealous anger of +Milady was his revenge. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Milady was still more impatient than on the preceding evening. She +renewed the order relative to the Gascon; but as before she expected him in +vain. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, when Kitty presented herself at D’Artagnan’s, she was no +longer joyous and alert as on the two preceding days; but on the contrary sad +as death. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan asked the poor girl what was the matter with her; but she, as her +only reply, drew a letter from her pocket and gave it to him. +</p> + +<p> +This letter was in Milady’s handwriting; only this time it was addressed to M. +d’Artagnan, and not to M. de Wardes. +</p> + +<p> +He opened it and read as follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +D<small>EAR</small> M. <small>D</small>’A<small>RTAGNAN</small>, It is wrong +thus to neglect your friends, particularly at the moment you are about to leave +them for so long a time. My brother-in-law and myself expected you yesterday +and the day before, but in vain. Will it be the same this evening? +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your very grateful,<br/> +M<small>ILADY</small> C<small>LARIK</small> +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all very simple,” said D’Artagnan; “I expected this letter. My credit +rises by the fall of that of the Comte de Wardes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will you go?” asked Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me, my dear girl,” said the Gascon, who sought for an excuse in his +own eyes for breaking the promise he had made Athos; “you must understand it +would be impolitic not to accept such a positive invitation. Milady, not seeing +me come again, would not be able to understand what could cause the +interruption of my visits, and might suspect something; who could say how far +the vengeance of such a woman would go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” said Kitty, “you know how to represent things in such a way that +you are always in the right. You are going now to pay your court to her again, +and if this time you succeed in pleasing her in your own name and with your own +face, it will be much worse than before.” +</p> + +<p> +Instinct made poor Kitty guess a part of what was to happen. D’Artagnan +reassured her as well as he could, and promised to remain insensible to the +seductions of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +He desired Kitty to tell her mistress that he could not be more grateful for +her kindnesses than he was, and that he would be obedient to her orders. He did +not dare to write for fear of not being able—to such experienced eyes as +those of Milady—to disguise his writing sufficiently. +</p> + +<p> +As nine o’clock sounded, D’Artagnan was at the Place Royale. It was evident +that the servants who waited in the antechamber were warned, for as soon as +D’Artagnan appeared, before even he had asked if Milady were visible, one of +them ran to announce him. +</p> + +<p> +“Show him in,” said Milady, in a quick tone, but so piercing that D’Artagnan +heard her in the antechamber. +</p> + +<p> +He was introduced. +</p> + +<p> +“I am at home to nobody,” said Milady; “observe, to <i>nobody</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant went out. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan cast an inquiring glance at Milady. She was pale, and looked +fatigued, either from tears or want of sleep. The number of lights had been +intentionally diminished, but the young woman could not conceal the traces of +the fever which had devoured her for two days. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan approached her with his usual gallantry. She then made an +extraordinary effort to receive him, but never did a more distressed +countenance give the lie to a more amiable smile. +</p> + +<p> +To the questions which D’Artagnan put concerning her health, she replied, “Bad, +very bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” replied he, “my visit is ill-timed; you, no doubt, stand in need of +repose, and I will withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” said Milady. “On the contrary, stay, Monsieur d’Artagnan; your +agreeable company will divert me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” thought D’Artagnan. “She has never been so kind before. On guard!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady assumed the most agreeable air possible, and conversed with more than +her usual brilliancy. At the same time the fever, which for an instant +abandoned her, returned to give luster to her eyes, color to her cheeks, and +vermillion to her lips. D’Artagnan was again in the presence of the Circe who +had before surrounded him with her enchantments. His love, which he believed to +be extinct but which was only asleep, awoke again in his heart. Milady smiled, +and D’Artagnan felt that he could damn himself for that smile. There was a +moment at which he felt something like remorse. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees, Milady became more communicative. She asked D’Artagnan if he had a +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said D’Artagnan, with the most sentimental air he could assume, “can +you be cruel enough to put such a question to me—to me, who, from the +moment I saw you, have only breathed and sighed through you and for you?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady smiled with a strange smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you love me?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Have I any need to tell you so? Have you not perceived it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be; but you know the more hearts are worth the capture, the more +difficult they are to be won.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, difficulties do not affright me,” said D’Artagnan. “I shrink before +nothing but impossibilities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing is impossible,” replied Milady, “to true love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” thought D’Artagnan. “The note is changed. Is she going to fall in +love with me, by chance, this fair inconstant; and will she be disposed to give +me myself another sapphire like that which she gave me for De Wardes?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan rapidly drew his seat nearer to Milady’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now,” she said, “let us see what you would do to prove this love of +which you speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“All that could be required of me. Order; I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“For everything?” +</p> + +<p> +“For everything,” cried D’Artagnan, who knew beforehand that he had not much to +risk in engaging himself thus. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now let us talk a little seriously,” said Milady, in her turn drawing +her armchair nearer to D’Artagnan’s chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I am all attention, madame,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Milady remained thoughtful and undecided for a moment; then, as if appearing to +have formed a resolution, she said, “I have an enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, madame!” said D’Artagnan, affecting surprise; “is that possible, my +God?—good and beautiful as you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“A mortal enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“An enemy who has insulted me so cruelly that between him and me it is war to +the death. May I reckon on you as an auxiliary?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan at once perceived the ground which the vindictive creature wished to +reach. +</p> + +<p> +“You may, madame,” said he, with emphasis. “My arm and my life belong to you, +like my love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Milady, “since you are as generous as you are loving—” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied Milady, after a moment of silence, “from the present time, +cease to talk of impossibilities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not overwhelm me with happiness,” cried D’Artagnan, throwing himself on his +knees, and covering with kisses the hands abandoned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Avenge me of that infamous De Wardes,” said Milady, between her teeth, “and I +shall soon know how to get rid of you—you double idiot, you animated +sword blade!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fall voluntarily into my arms, hypocritical and dangerous woman,” said +D’Artagnan, likewise to himself, “after having abused me with such effrontery, +and afterward I will laugh at you with him whom you wish me to kill.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan lifted up his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“You have understood me, then, dear Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“I could interpret one of your looks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you would employ for me your arm which has already acquired so much +renown?” +</p> + +<p> +“Instantly!” +</p> + +<p> +“But on my part,” said Milady, “how should I repay such a service? I know these +lovers. They are men who do nothing for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know the only reply that I desire,” said D’Artagnan, “the only one worthy +of you and of me!” +</p> + +<p> +And he drew nearer to her. +</p> + +<p> +She scarcely resisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Interested man!” cried she, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” cried D’Artagnan, really carried away by the passion this woman had the +power to kindle in his heart, “ah, that is because my happiness appears so +impossible to me; and I have such fear that it should fly away from me like a +dream that I pant to make a reality of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, merit this pretended happiness, then!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am at your orders,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite certain?” said Milady, with a last doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“Only name to me the base man that has brought tears into your beautiful eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you that I had been weeping?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“It appeared to me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Such women as I never weep,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better! Come, tell me his name!” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember that his name is all my secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I must know his name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you must; see what confidence I have in you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You overwhelm me with joy. What is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is surely not one of my friends?” replied D’Artagnan, affecting hesitation +in order to make her believe him ignorant. +</p> + +<p> +“If it were one of your friends you would hesitate, then?” cried Milady; and a +threatening glance darted from her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Not if it were my own brother!” cried D’Artagnan, as if carried away by his +enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +Our Gascon promised this without risk, for he knew all that was meant. +</p> + +<p> +“I love your devotedness,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, do you love nothing else in me?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you also, <i>you!</i>” said she, taking his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The warm pressure made D’Artagnan tremble, as if by the touch that fever which +consumed Milady attacked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“You love me, you!” cried he. “Oh, if that were so, I should lose my reason!” +</p> + +<p> +And he folded her in his arms. She made no effort to remove her lips from his +kisses; only she did not respond to them. Her lips were cold; it appeared to +D’Artagnan that he had embraced a statue. +</p> + +<p> +He was not the less intoxicated with joy, electrified by love. He almost +believed in the tenderness of Milady; he almost believed in the crime of De +Wardes. If De Wardes had at that moment been under his hand, he would have +killed him. +</p> + +<p> +Milady seized the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“His name is—” said she, in her turn. +</p> + +<p> +“De Wardes; I know it,” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know it?” asked Milady, seizing both his hands, and endeavoring +to read with her eyes to the bottom of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan felt he had allowed himself to be carried away, and that he had +committed an error. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, tell me, tell me, I say,” repeated Milady, “how do you know it?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know it?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it because yesterday Monsieur de Wardes, in a saloon where I was, +showed a ring which he said he had received from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wretch!” cried Milady. +</p> + +<p> +The epithet, as may be easily understood, resounded to the very bottom of +D’Artagnan’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” continued she. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will avenge you of this wretch,” replied D’Artagnan, giving himself +the airs of Don Japhet of Armenia. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, my brave friend!” cried Milady; “and when shall I be avenged?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow—immediately—when you please!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady was about to cry out, “Immediately,” but she reflected that such +precipitation would not be very gracious toward D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, she had a thousand precautions to take, a thousand counsels to give to +her defender, in order that he might avoid explanations with the count before +witnesses. All this was answered by an expression of D’Artagnan’s. “Tomorrow,” +said he, “you will be avenged, or I shall be dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said she, “you will avenge me; but you will not be dead. He is a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +“With women, perhaps; but not with men. I know something of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it seems you had not much reason to complain of your fortune in your +contest with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortune is a courtesan; favorable yesterday, she may turn her back tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which means that you now hesitate?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not hesitate; God forbid! But would it be just to allow me to go to a +possible death without having given me at least something more than hope?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady answered by a glance which said, “Is that all?—speak, then.” And +then accompanying the glance with explanatory words, “That is but too just,” +said she, tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are an angel!” exclaimed the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Then all is agreed?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Except that which I ask of you, dear love.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when I assure you that you may rely on my tenderness?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot wait till tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence! I hear my brother. It will be useless for him to find you here.” +</p> + +<p> +She rang the bell and Kitty appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Go out this way,” said she, opening a small private door, “and come back at +eleven o’clock; we will then terminate this conversation. Kitty will conduct +you to my chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor girl almost fainted at hearing these words. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, mademoiselle, what are you thinking about, standing there like a statue? +Do as I bid you: show the chevalier out; and this evening at eleven +o’clock—you have heard what I said.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears that these appointments are all made for eleven o’clock,” thought +D’Artagnan; “that’s a settled custom.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady held out her hand to him, which he kissed tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said he, as he retired as quickly as possible from the reproaches of +Kitty, “I must not play the fool. This woman is certainly a great liar. I must +take care.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a>Chapter XXXVII.<br/> +MILADY’S SECRET</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> left the hôtel instead of going up at once to +Kitty’s chamber, as she endeavored to persuade him to do—and that for two +reasons: the first, because by this means he should escape reproaches, +recriminations, and prayers; the second, because he was not sorry to have an +opportunity of reading his own thoughts and endeavoring, if possible, to fathom +those of this woman. +</p> + +<p> +What was most clear in the matter was that D’Artagnan loved Milady like a +madman, and that she did not love him at all. In an instant D’Artagnan +perceived that the best way in which he could act would be to go home and write +Milady a long letter, in which he would confess to her that he and De Wardes +were, up to the present moment absolutely the same, and that consequently he +could not undertake, without committing suicide, to kill the Comte de Wardes. +But he also was spurred on by a ferocious desire of vengeance. He wished to +subdue this woman in his own name; and as this vengeance appeared to him to +have a certain sweetness in it, he could not make up his mind to renounce it. +</p> + +<p> +He walked six or seven times round the Place Royale, turning at every ten steps +to look at the light in Milady’s apartment, which was to be seen through the +blinds. It was evident that this time the young woman was not in such haste to +retire to her apartment as she had been the first. +</p> + +<p> +At length the light disappeared. With this light was extinguished the last +irresolution in the heart of D’Artagnan. He recalled to his mind the details of +the first night, and with a beating heart and a brain on fire he re-entered the +hôtel and flew toward Kitty’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +The poor girl, pale as death and trembling in all her limbs, wished to delay +her lover; but Milady, with her ear on the watch, had heard the noise +D’Artagnan had made, and opening the door, said, “Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +All this was of such incredible immodesty, of such monstrous effrontery, that +D’Artagnan could scarcely believe what he saw or what he heard. He imagined +himself to be drawn into one of those fantastic intrigues one meets in dreams. +He, however, darted not the less quickly toward Milady, yielding to that +magnetic attraction which the loadstone exercises over iron. +</p> + +<p> +As the door closed after them Kitty rushed toward it. Jealousy, fury, offended +pride, all the passions in short that dispute the heart of an outraged woman in +love, urged her to make a revelation; but she reflected that she would be +totally lost if she confessed having assisted in such a machination, and above +all, that D’Artagnan would also be lost to her forever. This last thought of +love counseled her to make this last sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, on his part, had gained the summit of all his wishes. It was no +longer a rival who was beloved; it was himself who was apparently beloved. A +secret voice whispered to him, at the bottom of his heart, that he was but an +instrument of vengeance, that he was only caressed till he had given death; but +pride, but self-love, but madness silenced this voice and stifled its murmurs. +And then our Gascon, with that large quantity of conceit which we know he +possessed, compared himself with De Wardes, and asked himself why, after all, +he should not be beloved for himself? +</p> + +<p> +He was absorbed entirely by the sensations of the moment. Milady was no longer +for him that woman of fatal intentions who had for a moment terrified him; she +was an ardent, passionate mistress, abandoning herself to love which she also +seemed to feel. Two hours thus glided away. When the transports of the two +lovers were calmer, Milady, who had not the same motives for forgetfulness that +D’Artagnan had, was the first to return to reality, and asked the young man if +the means which were on the morrow to bring on the encounter between him and De +Wardes were already arranged in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan, whose ideas had taken quite another course, forgot himself like +a fool, and answered gallantly that it was too late to think about duels and +sword thrusts. +</p> + +<p> +This coldness toward the only interests that occupied her mind terrified +Milady, whose questions became more pressing. +</p> + +<p> +Then D’Artagnan, who had never seriously thought of this impossible duel, +endeavored to turn the conversation; but he could not succeed. Milady kept him +within the limits she had traced beforehand with her irresistible spirit and +her iron will. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan fancied himself very cunning when advising Milady to renounce, by +pardoning De Wardes, the furious projects she had formed. +</p> + +<p> +But at the first word the young woman started, and exclaimed in a sharp, +bantering tone, which sounded strangely in the darkness, “Are you afraid, dear +Monsieur d’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot think so, dear love!” replied D’Artagnan; “but now, suppose this +poor Comte de Wardes were less guilty than you think him?” +</p> + +<p> +“At all events,” said Milady, seriously, “he has deceived me, and from the +moment he deceived me, he merited death.” +</p> + +<p> +“He shall die, then, since you condemn him!” said D’Artagnan, in so firm a tone +that it appeared to Milady an undoubted proof of devotion. This reassured her. +</p> + +<p> +We cannot say how long the night seemed to Milady, but D’Artagnan believed it +to be hardly two hours before the daylight peeped through the window blinds, +and invaded the chamber with its paleness. Seeing D’Artagnan about to leave +her, Milady recalled his promise to avenge her on the Comte de Wardes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite ready,” said D’Artagnan; “but in the first place I should like to +be certain of one thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“That is, whether you really love me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have given you proof of that, it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am yours, body and soul!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, my brave lover; but as you are satisfied of my love, you must, in your +turn, satisfy me of yours. Is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say,” replied D’Artagnan, “do you +not entertain a little fear on my account?” +</p> + +<p> +“What have I to fear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that I may be dangerously wounded—killed even.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” cried Milady, “you are such a valiant man, and such an expert +swordsman.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would not, then, prefer a method,” resumed D’Artagnan, “which would +equally avenge you while rendering the combat useless?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady looked at her lover in silence. The pale light of the first rays of day +gave to her clear eyes a strangely frightful expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” said she, “I believe you now begin to hesitate.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte de Wardes, since you +have ceased to love him. I think that a man must be so severely punished by the +loss of your love that he stands in need of no other chastisement.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you that I loved him?” asked Milady, sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too much fatuity, that you +love another,” said the young man, in a caressing tone, “and I repeat that I am +really interested for the count.” +</p> + +<p> +“You?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why <i>you?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I alone know—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guilty toward you as he +appears.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Milady, in an anxious tone; “explain yourself, for I really +cannot tell what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +And she looked at D’Artagnan, who embraced her tenderly, with eyes which seemed +to burn themselves away. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I am a man of honor,” said D’Artagnan, determined to come to an end, “and +since your love is mine, and I am satisfied I possess it—for I do possess +it, do I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Entirely; go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I feel as if transformed—a confession weighs on my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“A confession!” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had the least doubt of your love I would not make it, but you love me, my +beautiful mistress, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then if through excess of love I have rendered myself culpable toward you, you +will pardon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan tried with his sweetest smile to touch his lips to Milady’s, but she +evaded him. +</p> + +<p> +“This confession,” said she, growing paler, “what is this confession?” +</p> + +<p> +“You gave De Wardes a meeting on Thursday last in this very room, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! It is not true,” said Milady, in a tone of voice so firm, and with a +countenance so unchanged, that if D’Artagnan had not been in such perfect +possession of the fact, he would have doubted. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not lie, my angel,” said D’Artagnan, smiling; “that would be useless.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? Speak! you kill me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied; you are not guilty toward me, and I have already pardoned you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What next? what next?” +</p> + +<p> +“De Wardes cannot boast of anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is that? You told me yourself that that ring—” +</p> + +<p> +“That ring I have! The Comte de Wardes of Thursday and the D’Artagnan of today +are the same person.” +</p> + +<p> +The imprudent young man expected a surprise, mixed with shame—a slight +storm which would resolve itself into tears; but he was strangely deceived, and +his error was not of long duration. +</p> + +<p> +Pale and trembling, Milady repulsed D’Artagnan’s attempted embrace by a violent +blow on the chest, as she sprang out of bed. +</p> + +<p> +It was almost broad daylight. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan detained her by her night dress of fine India linen, to implore her +pardon; but she, with a strong movement, tried to escape. Then the cambric was +torn from her beautiful shoulders; and on one of those lovely shoulders, round +and white, D’Artagnan recognized, with inexpressible astonishment, the +<i>fleur-de-lis</i>—that indelible mark which the hand of the infamous +executioner had imprinted. +</p> + +<p> +“Great God!” cried D’Artagnan, loosing his hold of her dress, and remaining +mute, motionless, and frozen. +</p> + +<p> +But Milady felt herself denounced even by his terror. He had doubtless seen +all. The young man now knew her secret, her terrible secret—the secret +she concealed even from her maid with such care, the secret of which all the +world was ignorant, except himself. +</p> + +<p> +She turned upon him, no longer like a furious woman, but like a wounded +panther. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, wretch!” cried she, “you have basely betrayed me, and still more, you have +my secret! You shall die.” +</p> + +<p> +And she flew to a little inlaid casket which stood upon the dressing table, +opened it with a feverish and trembling hand, drew from it a small poniard, +with a golden haft and a sharp thin blade, and then threw herself with a bound +upon D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +Although the young man was brave, as we know, he was terrified at that wild +countenance, those terribly dilated pupils, those pale cheeks, and those +bleeding lips. He recoiled to the other side of the room as he would have done +from a serpent which was crawling toward him, and his sword coming in contact +with his nervous hand, he drew it almost unconsciously from the scabbard. But +without taking any heed of the sword, Milady endeavored to get near enough to +him to stab him, and did not stop till she felt the sharp point at her throat. +</p> + +<p> +She then tried to seize the sword with her hands; but D’Artagnan kept it free +from her grasp, and presenting the point, sometimes at her eyes, sometimes at +her breast, compelled her to glide behind the bedstead, while he aimed at +making his retreat by the door which led to Kitty’s apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Milady during this time continued to strike at him with horrible fury, +screaming in a formidable way. +</p> + +<p> +As all this, however, bore some resemblance to a duel, D’Artagnan began to +recover himself little by little. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, beautiful lady, very well,” said he; “but, <i>pardieu</i>, if you don’t +calm yourself, I will design a second <i>fleur-de-lis</i> upon one of those +pretty cheeks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Scoundrel, infamous scoundrel!” howled Milady. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan, still keeping on the defensive, drew near to Kitty’s door. At +the noise they made, she in overturning the furniture in her efforts to get at +him, he in screening himself behind the furniture to keep out of her reach, +Kitty opened the door. D’Artagnan, who had unceasingly maneuvered to gain this +point, was not at more than three paces from it. With one spring he flew from +the chamber of Milady into that of the maid, and quick as lightning, he slammed +to the door, and placed all his weight against it, while Kitty pushed the +bolts. +</p> + +<p> +Then Milady attempted to tear down the doorcase, with a strength apparently +above that of a woman; but finding she could not accomplish this, she in her +fury stabbed at the door with her poniard, the point of which repeatedly +glittered through the wood. Every blow was accompanied with terrible +imprecations. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, Kitty, quick!” said D’Artagnan, in a low voice, as soon as the bolts +were fast, “let me get out of the hôtel; for if we leave her time to turn +round, she will have me killed by the servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you can’t go out so,” said Kitty; “you are naked.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said D’Artagnan, then first thinking of the costume he found +himself in, “that’s true. But dress me as well as you are able, only make +haste; think, my dear girl, it’s life and death!” +</p> + +<p> +Kitty was but too well aware of that. In a turn of the hand she muffled him up +in a flowered robe, a large hood, and a cloak. She gave him some slippers, in +which he placed his naked feet, and then conducted him down the stairs. It was +time. Milady had already rung her bell, and roused the whole hôtel. The porter +was drawing the cord at the moment Milady cried from her window, “Don’t open!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man fled while she was still threatening him with an impotent +gesture. The moment she lost sight of him, Milady tumbled fainting into her +chamber. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap38"></a>Chapter XXXVIII.<br/> +HOW, WITHOUT INCOMMODING HIMSELF, ATHOS PROCURES HIS EQUIPMENT</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">’Artagnan</span> was so completely bewildered that without +taking any heed of what might become of Kitty he ran at full speed across half +Paris, and did not stop till he came to Athos’s door. The confusion of his +mind, the terror which spurred him on, the cries of some of the patrol who +started in pursuit of him, and the hooting of the people who, notwithstanding +the early hour, were going to their work, only made him precipitate his course. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the court, ran up the two flights to Athos’s apartment, and knocked +at the door enough to break it down. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud came, rubbing his half-open eyes, to answer this noisy summons, and +D’Artagnan sprang with such violence into the room as nearly to overturn the +astonished lackey. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his habitual silence, the poor lad this time found his speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Holloa, there!” cried he; “what do you want, you strumpet? What’s your +business here, you hussy?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan threw off his hood, and disengaged his hands from the folds of the +cloak. At sight of the mustaches and the naked sword, the poor devil perceived +he had to deal with a man. He then concluded it must be an assassin. +</p> + +<p> +“Help! murder! help!” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, you stupid fellow!” said the young man; “I am D’Artagnan; +don’t you know me? Where is your master?” +</p> + +<p> +“You, Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried Grimaud, “impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grimaud,” said Athos, coming out of his apartment in a dressing gown, +“Grimaud, I thought I heard you permitting yourself to speak?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur, it is—” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud contented himself with pointing D’Artagnan out to his master with his +finger. +</p> + +<p> +Athos recognized his comrade, and phlegmatic as he was, he burst into a laugh +which was quite excused by the strange masquerade before his +eyes—petticoats falling over his shoes, sleeves tucked up, and mustaches +stiff with agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t laugh, my friend!” cried D’Artagnan; “for heaven’s sake, don’t laugh, +for upon my soul, it’s no laughing matter!” +</p> + +<p> +And he pronounced these words with such a solemn air and with such a real +appearance of terror, that Athos eagerly seized his hand, crying, “Are you +wounded, my friend? How pale you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I have just met with a terrible adventure! Are you alone, Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Parbleu!</i> whom do you expect to find with me at this hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well!” and D’Artagnan rushed into Athos’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, speak!” said the latter, closing the door and bolting it, that they +might not be disturbed. “Is the king dead? Have you killed the cardinal? You +are quite upset! Come, come, tell me; I am dying with curiosity and +uneasiness!” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos,” said D’Artagnan, getting rid of his female garments, and appearing in +his shirt, “prepare yourself to hear an incredible, an unheard-of story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but put on this dressing gown first,” said the Musketeer to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan donned the robe as quickly as he could, mistaking one sleeve for the +other, so greatly was he still agitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied D’Artagnan, bending his mouth to Athos’s ear, and lowering his +voice, “Milady is marked with a <i>fleur-de-lis</i> upon her shoulder!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the Musketeer, as if he had received a ball in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see,” said D’Artagnan. “Are you <i>sure</i> that the <i>other</i> is +dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>The other?</i>” said Athos, in so stifled a voice that D’Artagnan scarcely +heard him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she of whom you told me one day at Amiens.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos uttered a groan, and let his head sink on his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a woman of twenty-six or twenty-eight years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fair,” said Athos, “is she not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blue and clear eyes, of a strange brilliancy, with black eyelids and +eyebrows?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tall, well-made? She has lost a tooth, next to the eyetooth on the left?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>fleur-de-lis</i> is small, rosy in color, and looks as if efforts had +been made to efface it by the application of poultices?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you say she is English?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is called Milady, but she may be French. Lord de Winter is only her +brother-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see her, D’Artagnan!” +</p> + +<p> +“Beware, Athos, beware. You tried to kill her; she is a woman to return you the +like, and not to fail.” +</p> + +<p> +“She will not dare to say anything; that would be to denounce herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is capable of anything or everything. Did you ever see her furious?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“A tigress, a panther! Ah, my dear Athos, I am greatly afraid I have drawn a +terrible vengeance on both of us!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then related all—the mad passion of Milady and her menaces of +death. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right; and upon my soul, I would give my life for a hair,” said Athos. +“Fortunately, the day after tomorrow we leave Paris. We are going according to +all probability to La Rochelle, and once gone—” +</p> + +<p> +“She will follow you to the end of the world, Athos, if she recognizes you. Let +her, then, exhaust her vengeance on me alone!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear friend, of what consequence is it if she kills me?” said Athos. “Do +you, perchance, think I set any great store by life?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is something horribly mysterious under all this, Athos; this woman is +one of the cardinal’s spies, I am sure of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, take care! If the cardinal does not hold you in high admiration +for the affair of London, he entertains a great hatred for you; but as, +considering everything, he cannot accuse you openly, and as hatred must be +satisfied, particularly when it’s a cardinal’s hatred, take care of yourself. +If you go out, do not go out alone; when you eat, use every precaution. +Mistrust everything, in short, even your own shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately,” said D’Artagnan, “all this will be only necessary till after +tomorrow evening, for when once with the army, we shall have, I hope, only men +to dread.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the meantime,” said Athos, “I renounce my plan of seclusion, and wherever +you go, I will go with you. You must return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs; I will +accompany you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But however near it may be,” replied D’Artagnan, “I cannot go thither in this +guise.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Athos, and he rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud entered. +</p> + +<p> +Athos made him a sign to go to D’Artagnan’s residence, and bring back some +clothes. Grimaud replied by another sign that he understood perfectly, and set +off. +</p> + +<p> +“All this will not advance your outfit,” said Athos; “for if I am not mistaken, +you have left the best of your apparel with Milady, and she will certainly not +have the politeness to return it to you. Fortunately, you have the sapphire.” +</p> + +<p> +“The jewel is yours, my dear Athos! Did you not tell me it was a family jewel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my grandfather gave two thousand crowns for it, as he once told me. It +formed part of the nuptial present he made his wife, and it is magnificent. My +mother gave it to me, and I, fool as I was, instead of keeping the ring as a +holy relic, gave it to this wretch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my friend, take back this ring, to which I see you attach much value.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take back the ring, after it has passed through the hands of that infamous +creature? Never; that ring is defiled, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sell it, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sell a jewel which came from my mother! I vow I should consider it a +profanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pledge it, then; you can borrow at least a thousand crowns on it. With that +sum you can extricate yourself from your present difficulties; and when you are +full of money again, you can redeem it, and take it back cleansed from its +ancient stains, as it will have passed through the hands of usurers.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a capital companion, D’Artagnan,” said he; “your never-failing +cheerfulness raises poor souls in affliction. Well, let us pledge the ring, but +upon one condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“That there shall be five hundred crowns for you, and five hundred crowns for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t dream it, Athos. I don’t need the quarter of such a sum—I who am +still only in the Guards—and by selling my saddles, I shall procure it. +What do I want? A horse for Planchet, that’s all. Besides, you forget that I +have a ring likewise.” +</p> + +<p> +“To which you attach more value, it seems, than I do to mine; at least, I have +thought so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, for in any extreme circumstance it might not only extricate us from some +great embarrassment, but even a great danger. It is not only a valuable +diamond, but it is an enchanted talisman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t at all understand you, but I believe all you say to be true. Let us +return to my ring, or rather to yours. You shall take half the sum that will be +advanced upon it, or I will throw it into the Seine; and I doubt, as was the +case with Polycrates, whether any fish will be sufficiently complaisant to +bring it back to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will take it, then,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Grimaud returned, accompanied by Planchet; the latter, anxious +about his master and curious to know what had happened to him, had taken +advantage of the opportunity and brought the garments himself. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan dressed himself, and Athos did the same. When the two were ready to +go out, the latter made Grimaud the sign of a man taking aim, and the lackey +immediately took down his musketoon, and prepared to follow his master. +</p> + +<p> +They arrived without accident at the Rue des Fossoyeurs. Bonacieux was standing +at the door, and looked at D’Artagnan hatefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Make haste, dear lodger,” said he; “there is a very pretty girl waiting for +you upstairs; and you know women don’t like to be kept waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Kitty!” said D’Artagnan to himself, and darted into the passage. +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough! Upon the landing leading to the chamber, and crouching against the +door, he found the poor girl, all in a tremble. As soon as she perceived him, +she cried, “You have promised your protection; you have promised to save me +from her anger. Remember, it is you who have ruined me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, to be sure, Kitty,” said D’Artagnan; “be at ease, my girl. But what +happened after my departure?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I tell!” said Kitty. “The lackeys were brought by the cries she made. +She was mad with passion. There exist no imprecations she did not pour out +against you. Then I thought she would remember it was through my chamber you +had penetrated hers, and that then she would suppose I was your accomplice; so +I took what little money I had and the best of my things, and I got away. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor dear girl! But what can I do with you? I am going away the day after +tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do what you please, Monsieur Chevalier. Help me out of Paris; help me out of +France!” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot take you, however, to the siege of La Rochelle,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“No; but you can place me in one of the provinces with some lady of your +acquaintance—in your own country, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear little love! In my country the ladies do without chambermaids. But +stop! I can manage your business for you. Planchet, go and find Aramis. Request +him to come here directly. We have something very important to say to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said Athos; “but why not Porthos? I should have thought that +his duchess—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Porthos’s duchess is dressed by her husband’s clerks,” said D’Artagnan, +laughing. “Besides, Kitty would not like to live in the Rue aux Ours. Isn’t it +so, Kitty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not care where I live,” said Kitty, “provided I am well concealed, and +nobody knows where I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, Kitty, when we are about to separate, and you are no longer jealous +of me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Chevalier, far off or near,” said Kitty, “I shall always love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where the devil will constancy niche itself next?” murmured Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“And I, also,” said D’Artagnan, “I also. I shall always love you; be sure of +that. But now answer me. I attach great importance to the question I am about +to put to you. Did you never hear talk of a young woman who was carried off one +night?” +</p> + +<p> +“There, now! Oh, Monsieur Chevalier, do you love that woman still?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; it is one of my friends who loves her—Monsieur Athos, this +gentleman here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” cried Athos, with an accent like that of a man who perceives he is about +to tread upon an adder. +</p> + +<p> +“You, to be sure!” said D’Artagnan, pressing Athos’s hand. “You know the +interest we both take in this poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty will +tell nothing; will you, Kitty? You understand, my dear girl,” continued +D’Artagnan, “she is the wife of that frightful baboon you saw at the door as +you came in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! You remind me of my fright! If he should have known me again!” +</p> + +<p> +“How? know you again? Did you ever see that man before?” +</p> + +<p> +“He came twice to Milady’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it. About what time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, about fifteen or eighteen days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yesterday evening he came again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, just before you came.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Athos, we are enveloped in a network of spies. And do you believe he +knew you again, Kitty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I pulled down my hood as soon as I saw him, but perhaps it was too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go down, Athos—he mistrusts you less than me—and see if he be +still at his door.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos went down and returned immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“He has gone,” said he, “and the house door is shut.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has gone to make his report, and to say that all the pigeons are at this +moment in the dovecot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let us all fly,” said Athos, “and leave nobody here but Planchet +to bring us news.” +</p> + +<p> +“A minute. Aramis, whom we have sent for!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Athos; “we must wait for Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Aramis entered. +</p> + +<p> +The matter was all explained to him, and the friends gave him to understand +that among all his high connections he must find a place for Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis reflected for a minute, and then said, coloring, “Will it be really +rendering you a service, D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be grateful to you all my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Madame de Bois-Tracy asked me, for one of her friends who resides +in the provinces, I believe, for a trustworthy maid. If you can, my dear +D’Artagnan, answer for Mademoiselle—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur, be assured that I shall be entirely devoted to the person who +will give me the means of quitting Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Aramis, “this falls out very well.” +</p> + +<p> +He placed himself at the table and wrote a little note which he sealed with a +ring, and gave the billet to Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my dear girl,” said D’Artagnan, “you know that it is not good for any +of us to be here. Therefore let us separate. We shall meet again in better +days.” +</p> + +<p> +“And whenever we find each other, in whatever place it may be,” said Kitty, +“you will find me loving you as I love you today.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dicers’ oaths!” said Athos, while D’Artagnan went to conduct Kitty downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +An instant afterward the three young men separated, agreeing to meet again at +four o’clock with Athos, and leaving Planchet to guard the house. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis returned home, and Athos and D’Artagnan busied themselves about pledging +the sapphire. +</p> + +<p> +As the Gascon had foreseen, they easily obtained three hundred pistoles on the +ring. Still further, the Jew told them that if they would sell it to him, as it +would make a magnificent pendant for earrings, he would give five hundred +pistoles for it. +</p> + +<p> +Athos and D’Artagnan, with the activity of two soldiers and the knowledge of +two connoisseurs, hardly required three hours to purchase the entire equipment +of the Musketeer. Besides, Athos was very easy, and a noble to his fingers’ +ends. When a thing suited him he paid the price demanded, without thinking to +ask for any abatement. D’Artagnan would have remonstrated at this; but Athos +put his hand upon his shoulder, with a smile, and D’Artagnan understood that it +was all very well for such a little Gascon gentleman as himself to drive a +bargain, but not for a man who had the bearing of a prince. The Musketeer met +with a superb Andalusian horse, black as jet, nostrils of fire, legs clean and +elegant, rising six years. He examined him, and found him sound and without +blemish. They asked a thousand livres for him. +</p> + +<p> +He might perhaps have been bought for less; but while D’Artagnan was discussing +the price with the dealer, Athos was counting out the money on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud had a stout, short Picard cob, which cost three hundred livres. +</p> + +<p> +But when the saddle and arms for Grimaud were purchased, Athos had not a sou +left of his hundred and fifty pistoles. D’Artagnan offered his friend a part of +his share which he should return when convenient. +</p> + +<p> +But Athos only replied to this proposal by shrugging his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“How much did the Jew say he would give for the sapphire if he purchased it?” +said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Five hundred pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, two hundred more—a hundred pistoles for you and a +hundred pistoles for me. Well, now, that would be a real fortune to us, my +friend; let us go back to the Jew’s again.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! will you—” +</p> + +<p> +“This ring would certainly only recall very bitter remembrances; then we shall +never be masters of three hundred pistoles to redeem it, so that we really +should lose two hundred pistoles by the bargain. Go and tell him the ring is +his, D’Artagnan, and bring back the two hundred pistoles with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reflect, Athos!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ready money is needful for the present time, and we must learn how to make +sacrifices. Go, D’Artagnan, go; Grimaud will accompany you with his musketoon.” +</p> + +<p> +A half hour afterward, D’Artagnan returned with the two thousand livres, and +without having met with any accident. +</p> + +<p> +It was thus Athos found at home resources which he did not expect. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap39"></a>Chapter XXXIX.<br/> +A VISION</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> four o’clock the four friends were all assembled with +Athos. Their anxiety about their outfits had all disappeared, and each +countenance only preserved the expression of its own secret disquiet—for +behind all present happiness is concealed a fear for the future. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Planchet entered, bringing two letters for D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +The one was a little billet, genteelly folded, with a pretty seal in green wax +on which was impressed a dove bearing a green branch. +</p> + +<p> +The other was a large square epistle, resplendent with the terrible arms of his +Eminence the cardinal duke. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight of the little letter the heart of D’Artagnan bounded, for he +believed he recognized the handwriting, and although he had seen that writing +but once, the memory of it remained at the bottom of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +He therefore seized the little epistle, and opened it eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Be,” said the letter, “on Thursday next, at from six to seven o’clock in the +evening, on the road to Chaillot, and look carefully into the carriages that +pass; but if you have any consideration for your own life or that of those who +love you, do not speak a single word, do not make a movement which may lead +anyone to believe you have recognized her who exposes herself to everything for +the sake of seeing you but for an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +No signature. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a snare,” said Athos; “don’t go, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” replied D’Artagnan, “I think I recognize the writing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be counterfeit,” said Athos. “Between six and seven o’clock the road of +Chaillot is quite deserted; you might as well go and ride in the forest of +Bondy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But suppose we all go,” said D’Artagnan; “what the devil! They won’t devour us +all four, four lackeys, horses, arms, and all!” +</p> + +<p> +“And besides, it will be a chance for displaying our new equipments,” said +Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“But if it is a woman who writes,” said Aramis, “and that woman desires not to +be seen, remember, you compromise her, D’Artagnan; which is not the part of a +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will remain in the background,” said Porthos, “and he will advance alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but a pistol shot is easily fired from a carriage which goes at a +gallop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said D’Artagnan, “they will miss me; if they fire we will ride after the +carriage, and exterminate those who may be in it. They must be enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is right,” said Porthos; “battle. Besides, we must try our own arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah, let us enjoy that pleasure,” said Aramis, with his mild and careless +manner. +</p> + +<p> +“As you please,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “it is half past four, and we have scarcely time +to be on the road of Chaillot by six.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, if we go out too late, nobody will see us,” said Porthos, “and that +will be a pity. Let us get ready, gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this second letter,” said Athos, “you forget that; it appears to me, +however, that the seal denotes that it deserves to be opened. For my part, I +declare, D’Artagnan, I think it of much more consequence than the little piece +of waste paper you have so cunningly slipped into your bosom.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, “let us see, gentlemen, what are his Eminence’s commands,” and +D’Artagnan unsealed the letter and read, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M. d’Artagnan, of the king’s Guards, company Dessessart, is expected at the +Palais-Cardinal this evening, at eight o’clock. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“L<small>A</small> H<small>OUDINIERE</small>, <i>Captain of the Guards</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said Athos; “here’s a rendezvous much more serious than the +other.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go to the second after attending the first,” said D’Artagnan. “One is +for seven o’clock, and the other for eight; there will be time for both.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum! I would not go at all,” said Aramis. “A gallant knight cannot decline a +rendezvous with a lady; but a prudent gentleman may excuse himself from not +waiting on his Eminence, particularly when he has reason to believe he is not +invited to make his compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am of Aramis’s opinion,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” replied D’Artagnan, “I have already received by Monsieur de Cavois +a similar invitation from his Eminence. I neglected it, and on the morrow a +serious misfortune happened to me—Constance disappeared. Whatever may +ensue, I will go.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are determined,” said Athos, “do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the Bastille?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! you will get me out if they put me there,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure we will,” replied Aramis and Porthos, with admirable promptness and +decision, as if that were the simplest thing in the world, “to be sure we will +get you out; but meantime, as we are to set off the day after tomorrow, you +would do much better not to risk this Bastille.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us do better than that,” said Athos; “do not let us leave him during the +whole evening. Let each of us wait at a gate of the palace with three +Musketeers behind him; if we see a close carriage, at all suspicious in +appearance, come out, let us fall upon it. It is a long time since we have had +a skirmish with the Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal; Monsieur de Tréville must +think us dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“To a certainty, Athos,” said Aramis, “you were meant to be a general of the +army! What do you think of the plan, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Admirable!” replied the young men in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “I will run to the hôtel, and engage our comrades to hold +themselves in readiness by eight o’clock; the rendezvous, the Place du +Palais-Cardinal. Meantime, you see that the lackeys saddle the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no horse,” said D’Artagnan; “but that is of no consequence, I can take +one of Monsieur de Tréville’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not worth while,” said Aramis, “you can have one of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of yours! how many have you, then?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Three,” replied Aramis, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Certes</i>,” cried Athos, “you are the best-mounted poet of France or +Navarre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear Aramis, you don’t want three horses? I cannot comprehend what +induced you to buy three!” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore I only purchased two,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“The third, then, fell from the clouds, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the third was brought to me this very morning by a groom out of livery, +who would not tell me in whose service he was, and who said he had received +orders from his master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or his mistress,” interrupted D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“That makes no difference,” said Aramis, coloring; “and who affirmed, as I +said, that he had received orders from his master or mistress to place the +horse in my stable, without informing me whence it came.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only to poets that such things happen,” said Athos, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in that case, we can manage famously,” said D’Artagnan; “which of the +two horses will you ride—that which you bought or the one that was given +to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That which was given to me, assuredly. You cannot for a moment imagine, +D’Artagnan, that I would commit such an offense toward—” +</p> + +<p> +“The unknown giver,” interrupted D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Or the mysterious benefactress,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“The one you bought will then become useless to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you selected it yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the greatest care. The safety of the horseman, you know, depends almost +always upon the goodness of his horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, transfer it to me at the price it cost you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to make you the offer, my dear D’Artagnan, giving you all the time +necessary for repaying me such a trifle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much did it cost you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight hundred livres.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here are forty double pistoles, my dear friend,” said D’Artagnan, taking the +sum from his pocket; “I know that is the coin in which you were paid for your +poems.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are rich, then?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Rich? Richest, my dear fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +And D’Artagnan chinked the remainder of his pistoles in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Send your saddle, then, to the hôtel of the Musketeers, and your horse can be +brought back with ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; but it is already five o’clock, so make haste.” +</p> + +<p> +A quarter of an hour afterward Porthos appeared at the end of the Rue Férou on +a very handsome <i>genet</i>. Mousqueton followed him upon an Auvergne horse, +small but very handsome. Porthos was resplendent with joy and pride. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, Aramis made his appearance at the other end of the street +upon a superb English charger. Bazin followed him upon a roan, holding by the +halter a vigorous Mecklenburg horse; this was D’Artagnan’s mount. +</p> + +<p> +The two Musketeers met at the gate. Athos and D’Artagnan watched their approach +from the window. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” cried Aramis, “you have a magnificent horse there, Porthos.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Porthos, “it is the one that ought to have been sent to me at +first. A bad joke of the husband’s substituted the other; but the husband has +been punished since, and I have obtained full satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +Planchet and Grimaud appeared in their turn, leading their masters’ steeds. +D’Artagnan and Athos put themselves into saddle with their companions, and all +four set forward; Athos upon a horse he owed to a woman, Aramis on a horse he +owed to his mistress, Porthos on a horse he owed to his procurator’s wife, and +D’Artagnan on a horse he owed to his good fortune—the best mistress +possible. +</p> + +<p> +The lackeys followed. +</p> + +<p> +As Porthos had foreseen, the cavalcade produced a good effect; and if Mme. +Coquenard had met Porthos and seen what a superb appearance he made upon his +handsome Spanish <i>genet</i>, she would not have regretted the bleeding she +had inflicted upon the strongbox of her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Near the Louvre the four friends met with M. de Tréville, who was returning +from St. Germain; he stopped them to offer his compliments upon their +appointments, which in an instant drew round them a hundred gapers. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan profited by the circumstance to speak to M. de Tréville of the +letter with the great red seal and the cardinal’s arms. It is well understood +that he did not breathe a word about the other. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville approved of the resolution he had adopted, and assured him that +if on the morrow he did not appear, he himself would undertake to find him, let +him be where he might. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the clock of La Samaritaine struck six; the four friends pleaded +an engagement, and took leave of M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +A short gallop brought them to the road of Chaillot; the day began to decline, +carriages were passing and repassing. D’Artagnan, keeping at some distance from +his friends, darted a scrutinizing glance into every carriage that appeared, +but saw no face with which he was acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +At length, after waiting a quarter of an hour and just as twilight was +beginning to thicken, a carriage appeared, coming at a quick pace on the road +of Sèvres. A presentiment instantly told D’Artagnan that this carriage +contained the person who had appointed the rendezvous; the young man was +himself astonished to find his heart beat so violently. Almost instantly a +female head was put out at the window, with two fingers placed upon her mouth, +either to enjoin silence or to send him a kiss. D’Artagnan uttered a slight cry +of joy; this woman, or rather this apparition—for the carriage passed +with the rapidity of a vision—was Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +By an involuntary movement and in spite of the injunction given, D’Artagnan put +his horse into a gallop, and in a few strides overtook the carriage; but the +window was hermetically closed, the vision had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then remembered the injunction: “If you value your own life or that +of those who love you, remain motionless, and as if you had seen nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, therefore, trembling not for himself but for the poor woman who had +evidently exposed herself to great danger by appointing this rendezvous. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage pursued its way, still going at a great pace, till it dashed into +Paris, and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan remained fixed to the spot, astounded and not knowing what to think. +If it was Mme. Bonacieux and if she was returning to Paris, why this fugitive +rendezvous, why this simple exchange of a glance, why this lost kiss? If, on +the other side, it was not she—which was still quite possible—for +the little light that remained rendered a mistake easy—might it not be +the commencement of some plot against him through the allurement of this woman, +for whom his love was known? +</p> + +<p> +His three companions joined him. All had plainly seen a woman’s head appear at +the window, but none of them, except Athos, knew Mme. Bonacieux. The opinion of +Athos was that it was indeed she; but less preoccupied by that pretty face than +D’Artagnan, he had fancied he saw a second head, a man’s head, inside the +carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“If that be the case,” said D’Artagnan, “they are doubtless transporting her +from one prison to another. But what can they intend to do with the poor +creature, and how shall I ever meet her again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said Athos, gravely, “remember that it is the dead alone with whom we +are not likely to meet again on this earth. You know something of that, as well +as I do, I think. Now, if your mistress is not dead, if it is she we have just +seen, you will meet with her again some day or other. And perhaps, my God!” +added he, with that misanthropic tone which was peculiar to him, “perhaps +sooner than you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +Half past seven had sounded. The carriage had been twenty minutes behind the +time appointed. D’Artagnan’s friends reminded him that he had a visit to pay, +but at the same time bade him observe that there was yet time to retract. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan was at the same time impetuous and curious. He had made up his +mind that he would go to the Palais-Cardinal, and that he would learn what his +Eminence had to say to him. Nothing could turn him from his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the Rue St. Honoré, and in the Place du Palais-Cardinal they found +the twelve invited Musketeers, walking about in expectation of their comrades. +There only they explained to them the matter in hand. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was well known among the honorable corps of the king’s Musketeers, +in which it was known he would one day take his place; he was considered +beforehand as a comrade. It resulted from these antecedents that everyone +entered heartily into the purpose for which they met; besides, it would not be +unlikely that they would have an opportunity of playing either the cardinal or +his people an ill turn, and for such expeditions these worthy gentlemen were +always ready. +</p> + +<p> +Athos divided them into three groups, assumed the command of one, gave the +second to Aramis, and the third to Porthos; and then each group went and took +their watch near an entrance. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, on his part, entered boldly at the principal gate. +</p> + +<p> +Although he felt himself ably supported, the young man was not without a little +uneasiness as he ascended the great staircase, step by step. His conduct toward +Milady bore a strong resemblance to treachery, and he was very suspicious of +the political relations which existed between that woman and the cardinal. +Still further, De Wardes, whom he had treated so ill, was one of the tools of +his Eminence; and D’Artagnan knew that while his Eminence was terrible to his +enemies, he was strongly attached to his friends. +</p> + +<p> +“If De Wardes has related all our affair to the cardinal, which is not to be +doubted, and if he has recognized me, as is probable, I may consider myself +almost as a condemned man,” said D’Artagnan, shaking his head. “But why has he +waited till now? That’s all plain enough. Milady has laid her complaints +against me with that hypocritical grief which renders her so interesting, and +this last offense has made the cup overflow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately,” added he, “my good friends are down yonder, and they will not +allow me to be carried away without a struggle. Nevertheless, Monsieur de +Tréville’s company of Musketeers alone cannot maintain a war against the +cardinal, who disposes of the forces of all France, and before whom the queen +is without power and the king without will. D’Artagnan, my friend, you are +brave, you are prudent, you have excellent qualities; but the women will ruin +you!” +</p> + +<p> +He came to this melancholy conclusion as he entered the antechamber. He placed +his letter in the hands of the usher on duty, who led him into the waiting room +and passed on into the interior of the palace. +</p> + +<p> +In this waiting room were five or six of the cardinal’s Guards, who recognized +D’Artagnan, and knowing that it was he who had wounded Jussac, they looked upon +him with a smile of singular meaning. +</p> + +<p> +This smile appeared to D’Artagnan to be of bad augury. Only, as our Gascon was +not easily intimidated—or rather, thanks to a great pride natural to the +men of his country, he did not allow one easily to see what was passing in his +mind when that which was passing at all resembled fear—he placed himself +haughtily in front of Messieurs the Guards, and waited with his hand on his +hip, in an attitude by no means deficient in majesty. +</p> + +<p> +The usher returned and made a sign to D’Artagnan to follow him. It appeared to +the young man that the Guards, on seeing him depart, chuckled among themselves. +</p> + +<p> +He traversed a corridor, crossed a grand saloon, entered a library, and found +himself in the presence of a man seated at a desk and writing. +</p> + +<p> +The usher introduced him, and retired without speaking a word. D’Artagnan +remained standing and examined this man. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan at first believed that he had to do with some judge examining his +papers; but he perceived that the man at the desk wrote, or rather corrected, +lines of unequal length, scanning the words on his fingers. He saw then that he +was with a poet. At the end of an instant the poet closed his manuscript, upon +the cover of which was written “Mirame, a Tragedy in Five Acts,” and raised his +head. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan recognized the cardinal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap40"></a>Chapter XL.<br/> +A TERRIBLE VISION</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> cardinal leaned his elbow on his manuscript, his +cheek upon his hand, and looked intently at the young man for a moment. No one +had a more searching eye than the Cardinal de Richelieu, and D’Artagnan felt +this glance run through his veins like a fever. +</p> + +<p> +He however kept a good countenance, holding his hat in his hand and awaiting +the good pleasure of his Eminence, without too much assurance, but also without +too much humility. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, “are you a D’Artagnan from Béarn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“There are several branches of the D’Artagnans at Tarbes and in its environs,” +said the cardinal; “to which do you belong?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the son of him who served in the Religious Wars under the great King +Henry, the father of his gracious Majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well. It is you who set out seven or eight months ago from your +country to seek your fortune in the capital?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You came through Meung, where something befell you. I don’t very well know +what, but still something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said D’Artagnan, “this was what happened to me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, never mind!” resumed the cardinal, with a smile which indicated +that he knew the story as well as he who wished to relate it. “You were +recommended to Monsieur de Tréville, were you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur; but in that unfortunate affair at Meung—” +</p> + +<p> +“The letter was lost,” replied his Eminence; “yes, I know that. But Monsieur de +Tréville is a skilled physiognomist, who knows men at first sight; and he +placed you in the company of his brother-in-law, Monsieur Dessessart, leaving +you to hope that one day or other you should enter the Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur is correctly informed,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Since that time many things have happened to you. You were walking one day +behind the Chartreux, when it would have been better if you had been elsewhere. +Then you took with your friends a journey to the waters of Forges; they stopped +on the road, but you continued yours. That is all very simple: you had business +in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said D’Artagnan, quite confused, “I went—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hunting at Windsor, or elsewhere—that concerns nobody. I know, because +it is my office to know everything. On your return you were received by an +august personage, and I perceive with pleasure that you preserve the souvenir +she gave you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan placed his hand upon the queen’s diamond, which he wore, and quickly +turned the stone inward; but it was too late. +</p> + +<p> +“The day after that, you received a visit from Cavois,” resumed the cardinal. +“He went to desire you to come to the palace. You have not returned that visit, +and you were wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I feared I had incurred disgrace with your Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could that be, monsieur? Could you incur my displeasure by having followed +the orders of your superiors with more intelligence and courage than another +would have done? It is the people who do not obey that I punish, and not those +who, like you, obey—but too well. As a proof, remember the date of the +day on which I had you bidden to come to me, and seek in your memory for what +happened to you that very night.” +</p> + +<p> +That was the very evening when the abduction of Mme. Bonacieux took place. +D’Artagnan trembled; and he likewise recollected that during the past half hour +the poor woman had passed close to him, without doubt carried away by the same +power that had caused her disappearance. +</p> + +<p> +“In short,” continued the cardinal, “as I have heard nothing of you for some +time past, I wished to know what you were doing. Besides, you owe me some +thanks. You must yourself have remarked how much you have been considered in +all the circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan bowed with respect. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” continued the cardinal, “arose not only from a feeling of natural +equity, but likewise from a plan I have marked out with respect to you.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan became more and more astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to explain this plan to you on the day you received my first +invitation; but you did not come. Fortunately, nothing is lost by this delay, +and you are now about to hear it. Sit down there, before me, D’Artagnan; you +are gentleman enough not to listen standing.” And the cardinal pointed with his +finger to a chair for the young man, who was so astonished at what was passing +that he awaited a second sign from his interlocutor before he obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are brave, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued his Eminence; “you are prudent, +which is still better. I like men of head and heart. Don’t be afraid,” said he, +smiling. “By men of heart I mean men of courage. But young as you are, and +scarcely entering into the world, you have powerful enemies; if you do not take +great heed, they will destroy you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, monseigneur!” replied the young man, “very easily, no doubt, for they +are strong and well supported, while I am alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s true; but alone as you are, you have done much already, and will +do still more, I don’t doubt. Yet you have need, I believe, to be guided in the +adventurous career you have undertaken; for, if I mistake not, you came to +Paris with the ambitious idea of making your fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am at the age of extravagant hopes, monseigneur,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“There are no extravagant hopes but for fools, monsieur, and you are a man of +understanding. Now, what would you say to an ensign’s commission in my Guards, +and a company after the campaign?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You accept it, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied D’Artagnan, with an embarrassed air. +</p> + +<p> +“How? You refuse?” cried the cardinal, with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I am in his Majesty’s Guards, monseigneur, and I have no reason to be +dissatisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it appears to me that my Guards—mine—are also his Majesty’s +Guards; and whoever serves in a French corps serves the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, your Eminence has ill understood my words.” +</p> + +<p> +“You want a pretext, do you not? I comprehend. Well, you have this excuse: +advancement, the opening campaign, the opportunity which I offer you—so +much for the world. As regards yourself, the need of protection; for it is fit +you should know, Monsieur d’Artagnan, that I have received heavy and serious +complaints against you. You do not consecrate your days and nights wholly to +the king’s service.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan colored. +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” said the cardinal, placing his hand upon a bundle of papers, “I have +here a whole pile which concerns you. I know you to be a man of resolution; and +your services, well directed, instead of leading you to ill, might be very +advantageous to you. Come; reflect, and decide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your goodness confounds me, monseigneur,” replied D’Artagnan, “and I am +conscious of a greatness of soul in your Eminence that makes me mean as an +earthworm; but since Monseigneur permits me to speak freely—” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, I will presume to say that all my friends are in the king’s Musketeers +and Guards, and that by an inconceivable fatality my enemies are in the service +of your Eminence; I should, therefore, be ill received here and ill regarded +there if I accepted what Monseigneur offers me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you happen to entertain the haughty idea that I have not yet made you an +offer equal to your value?” asked the cardinal, with a smile of disdain. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, your Eminence is a hundred times too kind to me; and on the +contrary, I think I have not proved myself worthy of your goodness. The siege +of La Rochelle is about to be resumed, monseigneur. I shall serve under the eye +of your Eminence, and if I have the good fortune to conduct myself at the siege +in such a manner as merits your attention, then I shall at least leave behind +me some brilliant action to justify the protection with which you honor me. +Everything is best in its time, monseigneur. Hereafter, perhaps, I shall have +the right of <i>giving</i> myself; at present I shall appear to sell myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, you refuse to serve me, monsieur,” said the cardinal, with a +tone of vexation, through which, however, might be seen a sort of esteem; +“remain free, then, and guard your hatreds and your sympathies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said the cardinal, “I don’t wish you any ill; but you must be +aware that it is quite trouble enough to defend and recompense our friends. We +owe nothing to our enemies; and let me give you a piece of advice; take care of +yourself, Monsieur d’Artagnan, for from the moment I withdraw my hand from +behind you, I would not give an <i>obolus</i> for your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try to do so, monseigneur,” replied the Gascon, with a noble +confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember at a later period and at a certain moment, if any mischance should +happen to you,” said Richelieu, significantly, “that it was I who came to seek +you, and that I did all in my power to prevent this misfortune befalling you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall entertain, whatever may happen,” said D’Artagnan, placing his hand +upon his breast and bowing, “an eternal gratitude toward your Eminence for that +which you now do for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let it be, then, as you have said, Monsieur d’Artagnan; we shall see +each other again after the campaign. I will have my eye upon you, for I shall +be there,” replied the cardinal, pointing with his finger to a magnificent suit +of armor he was to wear, “and on our return, well—we will settle our +account!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur,” cried D’Artagnan, “spare me the weight of your displeasure. +Remain neutral monseigneur, if you find that I act as becomes a gallant man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Young man,” said Richelieu, “if I shall be able to say to you at another time +what I have said to you today, I promise you to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +This last expression of Richelieu’s conveyed a terrible doubt; it alarmed +D’Artagnan more than a menace would have done, for it was a warning. The +cardinal, then, was seeking to preserve him from some misfortune which +threatened him. He opened his mouth to reply, but with a haughty gesture the +cardinal dismissed him. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan went out, but at the door his heart almost failed him, and he felt +inclined to return. Then the noble and severe countenance of Athos crossed his +mind; if he made the compact with the cardinal which he required, Athos would +no more give him his hand—Athos would renounce him. +</p> + +<p> +It was this fear that restrained him, so powerful is the influence of a truly +great character on all that surrounds it. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan descended by the staircase at which he had entered, and found Athos +and the four Musketeers waiting his appearance, and beginning to grow uneasy. +With a word, D’Artagnan reassured them; and Planchet ran to inform the other +sentinels that it was useless to keep guard longer, as his master had come out +safe from the Palais-Cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +Returned home with Athos, Aramis and Porthos inquired eagerly the cause of the +strange interview; but D’Artagnan confined himself to telling them that M. de +Richelieu had sent for him to propose to him to enter into his guards with the +rank of ensign, and that he had refused. +</p> + +<p> +“And you were right,” cried Aramis and Porthos, with one voice. +</p> + +<p> +Athos fell into a profound reverie and answered nothing. But when they were +alone he said, “You have done that which you ought to have done, D’Artagnan; +but perhaps you have been wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan sighed deeply, for this voice responded to a secret voice of his +soul, which told him that great misfortunes awaited him. +</p> + +<p> +The whole of the next day was spent in preparations for departure. D’Artagnan +went to take leave of M. de Tréville. At that time it was believed that the +separation of the Musketeers and the Guards would be but momentary, the king +holding his Parliament that very day and proposing to set out the day after. M. +de Tréville contented himself with asking D’Artagnan if he could do anything +for him, but D’Artagnan answered that he was supplied with all he wanted. +</p> + +<p> +That night brought together all those comrades of the Guards of M. Dessessart +and the company of Musketeers of M. de Tréville who had been accustomed to +associate together. They were parting to meet again when it pleased God, and if +it pleased God. That night, then, was somewhat riotous, as may be imagined. In +such cases extreme preoccupation is only to be combated by extreme +carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +At the first sound of the morning trumpet the friends separated; the Musketeers +hastening to the hôtel of M. de Tréville, the Guards to that of M. Dessessart. +Each of the captains then led his company to the Louvre, where the king held +his review. +</p> + +<p> +The king was dull and appeared ill, which detracted a little from his usual +lofty bearing. In fact, the evening before, a fever had seized him in the midst +of the Parliament, while he was holding his Bed of Justice. He had, not the +less, decided upon setting out that same evening; and in spite of the +remonstrances that had been offered to him, he persisted in having the review, +hoping by setting it at defiance to conquer the disease which began to lay hold +upon him. +</p> + +<p> +The review over, the Guards set forward alone on their march, the Musketeers +waiting for the king, which allowed Porthos time to go and take a turn in his +superb equipment in the Rue aux Ours. +</p> + +<p> +The procurator’s wife saw him pass in his new uniform and on his fine horse. +She loved Porthos too dearly to allow him to part thus; she made him a sign to +dismount and come to her. Porthos was magnificent; his spurs jingled, his +cuirass glittered, his sword knocked proudly against his ample limbs. This time +the clerks evinced no inclination to laugh, such a real ear clipper did Porthos +appear. +</p> + +<p> +The Musketeer was introduced to M. Coquenard, whose little gray eyes sparkled +with anger at seeing his cousin all blazing new. Nevertheless, one thing +afforded him inward consolation; it was expected by everybody that the campaign +would be a severe one. He whispered a hope to himself that this beloved +relative might be killed in the field. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos paid his compliments to M. Coquenard and bade him farewell. M. +Coquenard wished him all sorts of prosperities. As to Mme. Coquenard, she could +not restrain her tears; but no evil impressions were taken from her grief as +she was known to be very much attached to her relatives, about whom she was +constantly having serious disputes with her husband. +</p> + +<p> +But the real adieux were made in Mme. Coquenard’s chamber; they were +heartrending. +</p> + +<p> +As long as the procurator’s wife could follow him with her eyes, she waved her +handkerchief to him, leaning so far out of the window as to lead people to +believe she wished to precipitate herself. Porthos received all these +attentions like a man accustomed to such demonstrations, only on turning the +corner of the street he lifted his hat gracefully, and waved it to her as a +sign of adieu. +</p> + +<p> +On his part Aramis wrote a long letter. To whom? Nobody knew. Kitty, who was to +set out that evening for Tours, was waiting in the next chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Athos sipped the last bottle of his Spanish wine. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime D’Artagnan was defiling with his company. Arriving at the +Faubourg St. Antoine, he turned round to look gaily at the Bastille; but as it +was the Bastille alone he looked at, he did not observe Milady, who, mounted +upon a light chestnut horse, designated him with her finger to two ill-looking +men who came close up to the ranks to take notice of him. To a look of +interrogation which they made, Milady replied by a sign that it was he. Then, +certain that there could be no mistake in the execution of her orders, she +started her horse and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +The two men followed the company, and on leaving the Faubourg St. Antoine, +mounted two horses properly equipped, which a servant without livery had +waiting for them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap41"></a>Chapter XLI.<br/> +THE SIEGE OF LA ROCHELLE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +And Bassompierre was right. The cannonade of the Isle of Ré presaged to him the +dragonnades of the Cévennes; the taking of La Rochelle was the preface to the +revocation of the Edict of Nantes. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The first advantage had been gained by Buckingham. Arriving unexpectedly in +sight of the Isle of Ré 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Sévigné. +</p> + +<p> +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 Prée. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +He, however, arrived without accident in the camp established before La +Rochelle, on the tenth of the month of September of the year 1627. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was in the same state. The Duke of Buckingham and his English, +masters of the Isle of Ré, continued to besiege, but without success, the +citadel St. Martin and the fort of La Prée; and hostilities with La Rochelle +had commenced, two or three days before, about a fort which the Duc d’Angoulême +had caused to be constructed near the city. +</p> + +<p> +The Guards, under the command of M. Dessessart, took up their quarters 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 additional cause +of persecution, and her protection, as it was known, protected badly—as +witness Chalais and Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +This was evidently an ambuscade. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is a third shot,” said he to himself, “I am a lost man.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +This event might have three causes: +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan again shook his head. For people toward whom he had but to put +forth his hand, his Eminence had rarely recourse to such means. +</p> + +<p> +It might be a vengeance of Milady; that was most probable. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my poor friends!” murmured D’Artagnan; “where are you? And that you should +fail me!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But D’Artagnan well suspected that that which was deferred was not +relinquished. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan remained all day in his quarters, assigning as a reason to himself +that the weather was bad. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock the next morning, the drums beat to arms. The Duc d’Orléans +visited the posts. The guards were under arms, and D’Artagnan took his place in +the midst of his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, my captain!” replied D’Artagnan, who wished for nothing better than an +opportunity to distinguish himself under the eye of the lieutenant general. +</p> + +<p> +In fact the Rochellais had made a <i>sortie</i> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four men of good will who will risk being killed with me!” said D’Artagnan, +raising his sword. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +It was not known 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +He thought that, beginning to be afraid, they had stayed behind, and he +continued to advance. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +bandit, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan immediately placed the point of his sword at his throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not kill me!” cried the bandit. “Pardon, pardon, my officer, and I will +tell you all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is your secret of enough importance to me to spare your life for it?” asked +the young man, withholding his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wretch,” cried D’Artagnan, “speak quickly! Who employed you to assassinate +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“A woman whom I don’t know, but who is called Milady.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if you don’t know this woman, how do you know her name?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you become concerned in this villainous affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“He proposed to me to undertake it with him, and I agreed.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how much did she give you for this fine enterprise?” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” said the soldier, uneasy at perceiving that all was not over. +</p> + +<p> +“That you will go and fetch me the letter your comrade has in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried the bandit, “that is only another way of killing me. How can I go +and fetch that letter under the fire of the bastion?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must nevertheless make up your mind to go and get it, or I swear you shall +die by my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, monsieur; pity! In the name of that young lady you love, and whom you +perhaps believe dead but who is not!” cried the bandit, throwing himself upon +his knees and leaning upon his hand—for he began to lose his strength +with his blood. +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know there is a young woman whom I love, and that I believed +that woman dead?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“By that letter which my comrade has in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, stop!” cried he, regaining strength by force of terror. “I will +go—I will go!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan preferred the second means, and lifted the assassin onto his +shoulders at the moment the enemy fired. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan regained the trench, and threw the corpse beside the wounded man, +who was as pale as death. +</p> + +<p> +Then he began to search. A leather pocketbook, a purse, in which was evidently +a part of the sum which the bandit had received, with a dice box and dice, +completed the possessions of the dead man. +</p> + +<p> +He left the box and dice where they fell, threw the purse to the wounded man, +and eagerly opened the pocketbook. +</p> + +<p> +Among some unimportant papers he found the following letter, that which he had +sought at the risk of his life: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 Barrière de La Villette; but +having stopped to drink at a cabaret, they had missed the carriage by ten +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“But what were you to do with that woman?” asked D’Artagnan, with anguish. +</p> + +<p> +“We were to have conveyed her to a hôtel in the Place Royale,” said the wounded +man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes!” murmured D’Artagnan; “that’s the place—Milady’s own +residence!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Then also, as Athos had predicted, it became possible to find Mme. Bonacieux, +and a convent was not impregnable. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the man, who could scarcely believe in such magnanimity, “but is it +not to have me hanged?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have my word,” said he; “for the second time I give you your life.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan explained the sword wound of his companion by a <i>sortie</i> 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 expedition 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. +</p> + +<p> +This tranquillity proved one thing—that D’Artagnan did not yet know +Milady. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap42"></a>Chapter XLII.<br/> +THE ANJOU WINE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">fter</span> 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. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, Monsieur, who knew that from one day to the other he might expect to +be removed from his command by the Duc d’Angoulême, 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 Ré, where they still besieged the citadel St. Martin and the +fort of La Prée, as on their side the French were besieging La Rochelle. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, as we have said, had become more tranquil, as always happens after +a past 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. +</p> + +<p> +But one morning at the commencement of the month of November everything was +explained to him by this letter, dated from Villeroy: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M. <small>D</small>’A<small>RTAGNAN</small>, 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, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your very humble and obedient servant,<br/> +G<small>ODEAU</small>, <i>Purveyor of the Musketeers</i> +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +One of the two Guardsmen was engaged that evening, and another the next, so the +meeting was fixed for the day after that. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Tréville, who detected him at once. +</p> + +<p> +The ceremony of reception over, the four friends were soon in one another’s +arms. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i>” 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Porthos, “it appears we are feasting!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope,” said Aramis, “there are no women at your dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any drinkable wine in your tavern?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <i>pardieu!</i> there is yours, my dear friend,” replied D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Our wine!” said Athos, astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that you sent me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We sent you wine?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know very well—the wine from the hills of Anjou.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know what brand you are talking about.” +</p> + +<p> +“The wine you prefer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in the absence of champagne and chambertin, you must content yourselves +with that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so, connoisseurs in wine as we are, we have sent you some Anjou wine?” +said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly, it is the wine that was sent by your order.” +</p> + +<p> +“On our account?” said the three Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you send this wine, Aramis?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“No; and you, Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; and you, Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” +</p> + +<p> +“If it was not you, it was your purveyor,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Our purveyor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your purveyor, Godeau—the purveyor of the Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith! never mind where it comes from,” said Porthos, “let us taste it, and +if it is good, let us drink it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Athos; “don’t let us drink wine which comes from an unknown source.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, Athos,” said D’Artagnan. “Did none of you charge your purveyor, +Godeau, to send me some wine?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! And yet you say he has sent you some as from us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is his letter,” said D’Artagnan, and he presented the note to his +comrades. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not his writing!” said Athos. “I am acquainted with it; before we left +Villeroy I settled the accounts of the regiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“A false letter altogether,” said Porthos, “we have not been disciplined.” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, in a reproachful tone, “how could you believe that +we had made a disturbance?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan grew pale, and a convulsive trembling shook all his limbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou alarmest me!” said Athos, who never used <i>thee</i> and <i>thou</i> but +upon very particular occasions, “what has happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look you, my friends!” cried D’Artagnan, “a horrible suspicion crosses my +mind! Can this be another vengeance of that woman?” +</p> + +<p> +It was now Athos who turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan rushed toward the refreshment room, the three Musketeers and the two +Guards following him. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried he, on perceiving D’Artagnan, “ah! this is frightful! You pretend +to pardon me, and you poison me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I!” cried D’Artagnan. “I, wretch? What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think so, Brisemont,” said D’Artagnan; “do not think so. I swear to +you, I protest—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but God is above! God will punish you! My God, grant that he may one day +suffer what I suffer!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe you,” cried the soldier, and he expired amid horrible +tortures. +</p> + +<p> +“Frightful! frightful!” murmured Athos, while Porthos broke the bottles and +Aramis gave orders, a little too late, that a confessor should be sent for. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” stammered Planchet, more dead than alive, “ah, monsieur, what +an escape I have had!” +</p> + +<p> +“How, sirrah! you were going to drink my wine?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Fourreau, whose teeth chattered with terror, “I wanted to get him +out of the way that I might drink myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The two Guardsmen courteously accepted D’Artagnan’s excuses, and perceiving +that the four friends desired to be alone, retired. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +And the four friends quit the room, leaving to Planchet and Fourreau the duty +of paying mortuary honors to Brisemont. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said D’Artagnan to Athos, “you see, my dear friend, that this is war to +the death.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” replied he, “I perceive that plainly; but do you really believe it +is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, I confess I still doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the <i>fleur-de-lis</i> on her shoulder?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is some Englishwoman who has committed a crime in France, and has been +branded in consequence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Athos, she is your wife, I tell you,” repeated D’Artagnan; “only reflect how +much the two descriptions resemble each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but I should think the other must be dead, I hanged her so effectually.” +</p> + +<p> +It was D’Artagnan who now shook his head in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“But in either case, what is to be done?” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“The fact is, one cannot remain thus, with a sword hanging eternally over his +head,” said Athos. “We must extricate ourselves from this position.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I like the means well enough,” said D’Artagnan, “but where and how to meet +with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but to wait surrounded by assassins and poisoners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Athos. “God has preserved us hitherto, God will preserve us still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we. Besides, we are men; and everything considered, it is our lot to risk +our lives; but <i>she</i>,” asked he, in an undertone. +</p> + +<p> +“What she?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Constance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Bonacieux! Ah, that’s true!” said Athos. “My poor friend, I had +forgotten you were in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“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—” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” cried Athos, “good! Yes, my dear Aramis, we all know that your views +have a religious tendency.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am only temporarily a Musketeer,” said Aramis, humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “it appears to me that the means are very simple.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“You say she is in a convent?” replied Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. As soon as the siege is over, we’ll carry her off from that +convent.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we must first learn what convent she is in.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case Porthos will assist us.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how so, if you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, by your marchioness, your duchess, your princess. She must have a long +arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Porthos, placing a finger on his lips. “I believe her to be a +cardinalist; she must know nothing of the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Aramis, “I take upon myself to obtain intelligence of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, Aramis?” cried the three friends. “You! And how?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the queen’s almoner, to whom I am very intimately allied,” said Aramis, +coloring. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap43"></a>Chapter XLIII.<br/> +THE SIGN OF THE RED DOVECOT</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">eanwhile</span> 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 Ré, 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’Angoulême. +</p> + +<p> +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’Angoulême, 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’Angoulême on the east, from Dompierre to Perigny; and M. de Schomberg on the +south, from Perigny to Angoutin. +</p> + +<p> +The quarters of Monsieur were at Dompierre; the quarters of the king were +sometimes at Estrée, 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’Angoulême; and the +cardinal, M. de Schomberg. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as this organization was established, they set about driving the +English from the Isle. +</p> + +<p> +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, <i>roberges</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +expedition 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. +</p> + +<p> +Te Deums were chanted in camp, and afterward throughout France. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +There were also less agreeable visits—for two or three times reports were +spread that the cardinal had nearly been assassinated. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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’Angoulême 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. This was the more easy for our +three companions in particular; for being friends of M. de Tréville, they +obtained from him special permission to be absent after the closing of the +camp. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who goes there, yourselves?” replied one of the horsemen. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not an answer,” replied Athos. “Who goes there? Answer, or we charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beware of what you are about, gentlemen!” said a clear voice which seemed +accustomed to command. +</p> + +<p> +“It is some superior officer making his night rounds,” said Athos. “What do you +wish, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” said the same voice, in the same commanding tone. “Answer in +your turn, or you may repent of your disobedience.” +</p> + +<p> +“King’s Musketeers,” said Athos, more and more convinced that he who +interrogated them had the right to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“What company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Company of Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“Advance, and give an account of what you are doing here at this hour.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, my officer,” said Athos; “but we were ignorant with whom we had +to do, and you may see that we were keeping good guard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your name?” said the officer, who covered a part of his face with his cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your name?” repeated the cavalier a second time, letting his cloak fall, and +leaving his face uncovered. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur the Cardinal!” cried the stupefied Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“Your name?” cried his Eminence, for the third time. +</p> + +<p> +“Athos,” said the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are gentlemen, monseigneur,” said Athos; “require our parole, and give +yourself no uneasiness. Thank God, we can keep a secret.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal fixed his piercing eyes on this courageous speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your Eminence,” said Athos, while the two Musketeers who had remained +behind advanced hat in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The three Musketeers bowed to the necks of their horses. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“A quarrel, and what for, gentlemen?” said the cardinal; “you know I don’t like +quarrelers.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have been the results of your quarrel?” said the cardinal, knitting his +brow. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said the cardinal; “and you, Monsieur Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the cardinal; “and you, Monsieur Aramis?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil, gentlemen!” said the cardinal, “three men placed <i>hors de +combat</i> in a cabaret squabble! You don’t do your work by halves. And pray +what was this quarrel about?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Force her door!” said the cardinal, “and for what purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“To do her violence, without doubt,” said Athos. “I have had the honor of +informing your Eminence that these men were drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +“And was this lady young and handsome?” asked the cardinal, with a certain +degree of anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“We did not see her, monseigneur,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said Athos, haughtily, “we are gentlemen, and to save our heads +we would not be guilty of a falsehood.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Judge not rashly’, says the Gospel,” replied the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +Athos bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, gentlemen, that’s well,” continued the cardinal. “I know what I wish +to know; follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Surgères, which was likewise the way to Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Advance, gentlemen,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The host stood at the door. For him, the cardinal was only an officer coming to +visit a lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any chamber on the ground floor where these gentlemen can wait near a +good fire?” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +The host opened the door of a large room, in which an old stove had just been +replaced by a large and excellent chimney. +</p> + +<p> +“I have this,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap44"></a>Chapter XLIV.<br/> +THE UTILITY OF STOVEPIPES</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis placed themselves at the table and began to play. Athos +walked about in a contemplative mood. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Milady,” said the cardinal, “the affair is important. Sit down, and +let us talk it over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Milady!” murmured Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“I listen to your Eminence with greatest attention,” replied a female voice +which made the Musketeer start. +</p> + +<p> +“A small vessel with an English crew, whose captain is on my side, awaits you +at the mouth of Charente, at Fort La Pointe*. He will set sail tomorrow +morning.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Fort La Pointe, or Fort Vasou, was not built until 1672, nearly 50 years +later. +</p> + +<p> +“I must go thither tonight?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“You will go to London,” continued the cardinal. “Arrived in London, you will +seek Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this time,” said the cardinal, “it is not necessary to steal his +confidence, but to present yourself frankly and loyally as a negotiator.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly and loyally,” repeated Milady, with an unspeakable expression of +duplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, frankly and loyally,” replied the cardinal, in the same tone. “All this +negotiation must be carried on openly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will follow your Eminence’s instructions to the letter. I only wait till you +give them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he believe that your Eminence is in a position to accomplish the threat +thus made?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; for I have the proofs.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must be able to present these proofs for his appreciation.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell him that.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then add that his Grace has, in the precipitation with which he quit the Isle +of Ré, 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it,” said the cardinal, “that’s it. You have an excellent memory, +Milady.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“If he persists?” said the cardinal. “That is not probable.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Eminence means, I presume, the knife stab in the Rue de la Feronnerie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Does not your Eminence fear that the punishment inflicted upon Ravaillac may +deter anyone who might entertain the idea of imitating him?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” said Milady, coolly, “such a woman may be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, such a woman, who would place the knife of Jacques Clément or of +Ravaillac in the hands of a fanatic, would save France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but she would then be the accomplice of an assassination.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were the accomplices of Ravaillac or of Jacques Clément ever known?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 Médicis, I should use less precautions than I take, being simply called +Milady Clarik.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is just,” said Richelieu. “What do you require, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I require an order which would ratify beforehand all that I should think +proper to do for the greatest good of France.” +</p> + +<p> +“But in the first place, this woman I have described must be found who is +desirous of avenging herself upon the duke.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is found,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Then the miserable fanatic must be found who will serve as an instrument of +God’s justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the cardinal, “then it will be time to claim the order which you +just now required.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 fête 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is it,” replied the cardinal, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you enemies, then?” asked Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur, enemies against whom you owe me all your support, for I made +them by serving your Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” replied the duke. +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place, there is a little <i>intrigante</i> named Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is in the prison of Nantes.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“To a convent?” said the duke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to a convent.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to which?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; the secret has been well kept.” +</p> + +<p> +“But <i>I</i> will know!” +</p> + +<p> +“And your Eminence will tell me in what convent that woman is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can see nothing inconvenient in that,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now I have an enemy much more to be dreaded by me than this little +Madame Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said the cardinal, “I know of whom you speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that miserable D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a bold fellow,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“And it is exactly because he is a bold fellow that he is the more to be +feared.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have,” said the duke, “a proof of his connection with Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“A proof?” cried Milady; “I will have ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, it becomes the simplest thing in the world; get me that proof, and +I will send him to the Bastille.” +</p> + +<p> +“So far good, monseigneur; but afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“When once in the Bastille, there is no afterward!” said the cardinal, in a low +voice. “Ah, <i>pardieu!</i>” 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—” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied Milady, “a fair exchange. Life for life, man for man; +give me one, I will give you the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“An infamous scoundrel, monseigneur, a scoundrel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me paper, a quill, and some ink, then,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Porthos, “what do you want, and why do you not let us listen to +the end of the conversation?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be gone!” said Porthos; “and if the cardinal asks for you, what +answer can we make?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be prudent, Athos,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Be easy on that head,” replied Athos; “you know I am cool enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis resumed their places by the stovepipe. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap45"></a>Chapter XLV.<br/> +A CONJUGAL SCENE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">s</span> 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of Monseigneur Athos?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, what have you done, Monsieur Porthos?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have won five pistoles of Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well; now will you return with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are at your Eminence’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“To horse, then, gentlemen; for it is getting late.” +</p> + +<p> +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 Fort La Pointe, and superintend +her embarkation. +</p> + +<p> +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 in coming. +</p> + +<p> +Let us leave him to follow the road to the camp protected by his esquire and +the two Musketeers, and return to Athos. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The host recognized him. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go up,” said the host; “she is still in her chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +He entered the chamber and closed the door behind him. At the noise he made in +pushing the bolt, Milady turned round. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, and what do you want?” cried she. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph,” murmured Athos, “it is certainly she!” +</p> + +<p> +And letting fall his cloak and raising his hat, he advanced toward Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know me, madame?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Milady made one step forward, and then drew back as if she had seen a serpent. +</p> + +<p> +“So far, well,” said Athos, “I perceive you know me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Comte de la Fère!” murmured Milady, becoming exceedingly pale, and drawing +back till the wall prevented her from going any farther. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Milady,” replied Athos; “the Comte de la Fère 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady, under the influence of inexpressible terror, sat down without uttering +a word. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady at these words, which recalled frightful remembrances, hung down her +head with a suppressed groan. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady arose as if moved by a powerful spring, and her eyes flashed lightning. +Athos remained sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“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 Fère, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Milady, in a hollow, faint voice, “what brings you back to me, and +what do you want with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to tell you that though remaining invisible to your eyes, I have not +lost sight of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know what I have done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can relate to you, day by day, your actions from your entrance to the +service of the cardinal to this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +A smile of incredulity passed over the pale lips of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen! It was you who cut off the two diamond studs from the shoulder of the +Duke of Buckingham; it was you who had 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady was livid. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be Satan!” cried she. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur d’Artagnan has cruelly insulted me,” said Milady, in a hollow tone; +“Monsieur d’Artagnan shall die!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! Is it possible to insult you, madame?” said Athos, laughing; “he has +insulted you, and he shall die!” +</p> + +<p> +“He shall die!” replied Milady; “she first, and he afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +cocked it. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +With another man, Milady might have preserved some doubt; but she knew Athos. +Nevertheless, she remained motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“You have one second to decide,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it,” said she, “and be accursed!” +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Dec. 3, 1627 +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this has +done what he has done. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“R<small>ICHELIEU</small>” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Athos, resuming his cloak and putting on his hat, “now that I +have drawn your teeth, viper, bite if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +And he left the chamber without once looking behind him. +</p> + +<p> +At the door he found the two men and the spare horse which they held. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said he, “Monseigneur’s order is, you know, to conduct that woman, +without losing time, to Fort La Pointe, and never to leave her till she is on +board.” +</p> + +<p> +As these words agreed wholly with the order they had received, they bowed their +heads in sign of assent. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Who goes there?” cried he, as soon as he perceived the horsemen. +</p> + +<p> +“That is our brave Musketeer, I think,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” said Porthos, “it is he.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 Ré.’” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” said Porthos and Aramis together, as soon as the cardinal was out of +hearing, “well, he signed the paper she required!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” said Athos, coolly, “since here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap46"></a>Chapter XLVI.<br/> +THE BASTION SAINT-GERVAIS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">O</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> arriving at the lodgings of his three friends, +D’Artagnan found them assembled in the same chamber. Athos was meditating; +Porthos was twisting his mustache; Aramis was saying his prayers in a charming +little Book of Hours, bound in blue velvet. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu</i>, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We were in a place where it was not very cold,” replied Porthos, giving his +mustache a twist which was peculiar to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” said D’Artagnan, comprehending the slight frown of the Musketeer. “It +appears there is something fresh aboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aramis,” said Athos, “you went to breakfast the day before yesterday at the +inn of the Parpaillot, I believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you fare?” +</p> + +<p> +“For my part, I ate but little. The day before yesterday was a fish day, and +they had nothing but meat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What,” said Athos, “no fish at a seaport?” +</p> + +<p> +“They say,” said Aramis, resuming his pious reading, “that the dyke which the +cardinal is making drives them all out into the open sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I think there were not many intruders. Yes, Athos, I know what you mean: +we shall do very well at the Parpaillot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go to the Parpaillot, then, for here the walls are like sheets of +paper.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 rapidity +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked at Athos to know if he ought to reply to this intruder who +thus mixed unasked in their conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not taken a bastion?” said a Swiss, who was drinking rum out of a +beer glass. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what bastion is it?” asked a dragoon, with his saber run through a goose +which he was taking to be cooked. +</p> + +<p> +“The bastion St. Gervais,” replied D’Artagnan, “from behind which the +Rochellais annoyed our workmen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that affair hot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, moderately so. We lost five men, and the Rochellais eight or ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Balzempleu!</i>” said the Swiss, who, notwithstanding the admirable +collection of oaths possessed by the German language, had acquired a habit of +swearing in French. +</p> + +<p> +“But it is probable,” said the light-horseman, “that they will send pioneers +this morning to repair the bastion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s probable,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “a wager!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>wooi</i>, a vager!” cried the Swiss. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said the light-horseman. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You was right,” said the Swiss; “goose grease is kood with basdry.” +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said the dragoon. “Now for the wager! We listen, Monsieur Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the wager!” said the light-horseman. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis looked at each other; they began to comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said D’Artagnan, in the ear of Athos, “you are going to get us all +killed without mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are much more likely to be killed,” said Athos, “if we do not go.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, gentlemen,” said Porthos, turning round upon his chair and twisting +his mustache, “that’s a fair bet, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take it,” said M. de Busigny; “so let us fix the stake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are four gentlemen,” said Athos, “and we are four; an unlimited dinner for +eight. Will that do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Capitally,” replied M. de Busigny. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly,” said the dragoon. +</p> + +<p> +“That shoots me,” said the Swiss. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth auditor, who during all this conversation had played a mute part, +made a sign of the head in proof that he acquiesced in the proposition. +</p> + +<p> +“The breakfast for these gentlemen is ready,” said the host. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, bring it,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“But where are you going to eat my breakfast?” asked the host. +</p> + +<p> +“What matter, if you are paid for it?” said Athos, and he threw two pistoles +majestically on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I give you the change, my officer?” said the host. +</p> + +<p> +“No, only add two bottles of champagne, and the difference will be for the +napkins.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you please, monsieur!” said the light-horseman, drawing from his fob a +very handsome watch, studded with diamonds; “half past seven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty-five minutes after seven,” said Athos, “by which you perceive I am five +minutes faster than you.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my dear Athos,” said he, “do me the kindness to tell me where we are +going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you see plainly enough we are going to the bastion.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what are we going to do there?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know well that we go to breakfast there.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did we not breakfast at the Parpaillot?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Aramis, “Athos is right: <i>Animadvertuntur in desertis</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“A desert would not have been amiss,” said Porthos; “but it behooved us to find +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said D’Artagnan; “but we shall indubitably attract a ball.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear,” replied Athos, “you know well that the balls most to be +dreaded are not from the enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But for such an expedition we surely ought to have brought our muskets.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are stupid, friend Porthos. Why should we load ourselves with a useless +burden?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t find a good musket, twelve cartridges, and a powder flask very useless +in the face of an enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied Athos, “have you not heard what D’Artagnan said?” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say?” demanded Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan said that in the attack of last night eight or ten Frenchmen were +killed, and as many Rochellais.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” +</p> + +<p> +“The bodies were not plundered, were they? It appears the conquerors had +something else to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Athos!” said Aramis, “truly you are a great man.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos nodded in sign of agreement. D’Artagnan alone did not seem convinced. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going?” asked he, by a gesture. +</p> + +<p> +Athos pointed to the bastion. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Grimaud, in the same silent dialect, “we shall leave our skins +there.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos raised his eyes and his finger toward heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud put his basket on the ground and sat down with a shake of the head. +</p> + +<p> +Athos took a pistol from his belt, looked to see if it was properly primed, +cocked it, and placed the muzzle close to Grimaud’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the bastion, the four friends turned round. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Athos took off his hat, placed it on the end of his sword, and waved it in the +air. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap47"></a>Chapter XLVII.<br/> +THE COUNCIL OF THE MUSKETEERS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">s</span> Athos had foreseen, the bastion was only occupied by +a dozen corpses, French and Rochellais. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, who had assumed the command of the expedition, “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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we could throw them into the ditch,” said Porthos, “after having assured +ourselves they have nothing in their pockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Athos, “that’s Grimaud’s business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” cried D’Artagnan, “pray let Grimaud search them and throw them +over the walls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forfend!” said Athos; “they may serve us.” +</p> + +<p> +“These bodies serve us?” said Porthos. “You are mad, dear friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Judge not rashly, say the gospel and the cardinal,” replied Athos. “How many +guns, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“How many shots?” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s quite as many as we shall want. Let us load the guns.” +</p> + +<p> +The four Musketeers went to work; and as they were loading the last musket +Grimaud announced that the breakfast was ready. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“And now to table,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +The four friends seated themselves on the ground with their legs crossed like +Turks, or even tailors. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the secret!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“The secret is,” said Athos, “that I saw Milady last night.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw your wi—” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” demanded D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Within two leagues of this place, at the inn of the Red Dovecot.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case I am lost,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so bad yet,” replied Athos; “for by this time she must have quit the +shores of France.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan breathed again. +</p> + +<p> +“But after all,” asked Porthos, “who is Milady?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! by demanding my head of the cardinal?” cried D’Artagnan, pale with +terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is true as the Gospel,” said Porthos; “I heard her with my own +ears.” +</p> + +<p> +“I also,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the last folly to be committed,” said Athos, “seeing it is the only one +for which there is no remedy.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Athos, “that only makes four; and we are four—one for one. +<i>Pardieu!</i> 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“A troop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of how many persons?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty men.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of men?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen pioneers, four soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“How far distant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Five hundred paces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! We have just time to finish this fowl and to drink one glass of wine to +your health, D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“To your health!” repeated Porthos and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, to my health! although I am very much afraid that your good wishes +will not be of great service to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Athos, “God is great, as say the followers of Mohammed, and the +future is in his hands.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pardieu!</i>” 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I doubt that,” replied D’Artagnan, “for they are advancing very resolutely. +Besides, in addition to the pioneers, there are four soldiers and a brigadier, +armed with muskets.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s because they don’t see us,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said Aramis, “I must confess I feel a great repugnance to fire on +these poor devils of civilians.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a bad priest,” said Porthos, “who has pity for heretics.” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth,” said Athos, “Aramis is right. I will warn them.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil are you going to do?” cried D’Artagnan, “you will be shot.” +</p> + +<p> +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 our repast, or to come again +a short time hence; 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, Athos!” cried D’Artagnan; “don’t you see they are aiming?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Athos; “but they are only civilians—very bad marksmen, +who will be sure not to hit me.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Grimaud,” said Athos, still on the breach, “another musket!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen, a <i>sortie!</i>” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Reload the muskets, Grimaud,” said Athos, “and we, gentlemen, will go on with +our breakfast, and resume our conversation. Where were we?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“She goes into England,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“With what view?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the view of assassinating, or causing to be assassinated, the Duke of +Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan uttered an exclamation of surprise and indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is infamous!” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” replied D’Artagnan, “you care little if she kills Buckingham or causes +him to be killed? But the duke is our friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“A moment,” said D’Artagnan. “I will not abandon Buckingham thus. He gave us +some very fine horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“And moreover, very handsome saddles,” said Porthos, who at the moment wore on +his cloak the lace of his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” said Aramis, “God desires the conversion and not the death of a +sinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 <i>carte blanche</i> which she had extorted from the cardinal, and by means +of which she could with impunity get rid of you and perhaps of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this creature must be a demon!” said Porthos, holding out his plate to +Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl. +</p> + +<p> +“And this <i>carte blanche</i>,” said D’Artagnan, “this <i>carte blanche</i>, +does it remain in her hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble, for if I did I should +tell a lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times I am indebted to +you for my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it was to go to her that you left us?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have that letter of the cardinal?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“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: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Dec. 3, 1627 +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this has +done what he has done. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“R<small>ICHELIEU</small>” +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” said Aramis, “it is an absolution according to rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“That paper must be torn to pieces,” said D’Artagnan, who fancied he read in it +his sentence of death. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” said Athos, “it must be preserved carefully. I would not +give up this paper if covered with as many gold pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what will she do now?” asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not jest,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“What says the abbé?” asked Athos, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I say I am entirely of Porthos’s opinion,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“And I, too,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately, she is far off,” said Porthos, “for I confess she would worry me +if she were here.” +</p> + +<p> +“She worries me in England as well as in France,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“She worries me everywhere,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so, Porthos?” replied the Musketeer, with a sad smile which +D’Artagnan alone understood. +</p> + +<p> +“I have an idea,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said the Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +“To arms!” cried Grimaud. +</p> + +<p> +The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we return to the camp?” said Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are +equal.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said Aramis, “we must form a plan of battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 ditch, and then we will push down upon their heads that strip of wall which +keeps its perpendicular by a miracle.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “no divided attention, I beg; let each one pick out +his man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cover mine,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And I mine,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“And I <i>idem</i>,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Fire, then,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell. +</p> + +<p> +The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at charging pace. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march of those who +remained was not slackened. +</p> + +<p> +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 ditch, and prepared to scale the breach. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my friends,” said Athos, “finish them at a blow. To the wall; to the +wall!” +</p> + +<p> +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 ditch. Then +a fearful crash was heard; a cloud of dust mounted toward the sky—and all +was over! +</p> + +<p> +“Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the last?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, it appears so!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” cried Porthos; “there go three or four, limping away.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Athos looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself before the remains +of the breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“My idea?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you said you had an idea,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I remember,” said D’Artagnan. “Well, I will go to England a second time; I +will go and find Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not do that, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“And why not? Have I not been there once?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Porthos, “I think I have an idea, in my turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence for Monsieur Porthos’s idea!” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Tréville, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied Athos, “I am not far from approving the idea of Monsieur +Porthos.” +</p> + +<p> +“For shame!” said Aramis. “Kill a woman? No, listen to me; I have the true +idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see your idea, Aramis,” said Athos, who felt much deference for the +young Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“We must inform the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my faith, yes!” said Porthos and D’Artagnan, at the same time; “we are +coming nearer to it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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—” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis stopped on seeing Athos smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you not adopt this means, Athos?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without reckoning,” objected Porthos, “that the queen would save Monsieur de +Buckingham, but would take no heed of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “what Porthos says is full of sense.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! but what’s going on in the city yonder?” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“They are beating the general alarm.” +</p> + +<p> +The four friends listened, and the sound of the drum plainly reached them. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, they are going to send a whole regiment against us,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think of holding out against a whole regiment, do you?” said +Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” said the 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word, the drum draws near,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me to give Grimaud some indispensable orders.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos made a sign for his lackey to approach. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the great man!” cried D’Artagnan. “I comprehend now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You comprehend?” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“And do you comprehend, Grimaud?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all that is necessary,” said Athos; “now for my idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like, however, to comprehend,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“That is useless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! Athos’s idea!” cried Aramis and D’Artagnan, at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“This Milady, this woman, this creature, this demon, has a brother-in-law, as I +think you told me, D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know him very well; and I also believe that he has not a very warm +affection for his sister-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no harm in that. If he detested her, it would be all the better,” +replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case we are as well off as we wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” said Porthos, “I would like to know what Grimaud is about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, Porthos!” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“What is her brother-in-law’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord de Winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He returned to London at the first sound of war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s just the man we want,” said Athos. “It is he whom we must warn. +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said D’Artagnan, “till she comes out.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I think it would be still better,” said Aramis, “to inform the queen and +Lord de Winter at the same time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but who is to carry the letter to Tours, and who to London?” +</p> + +<p> +“I answer for Bazin,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“And I for Planchet,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Porthos, “if we cannot leave the camp, our lackeys may.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure they may; and this very day we will write the letters,” said +Aramis. “Give the lackeys money, and they will start.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will give them money?” replied Athos. “Have you any money?” +</p> + +<p> +The four friends looked at one another, and a cloud came over the brows which +but lately had been so cheerful. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, yes,” said Athos; “there they are. See the sneaks come, without drum +or trumpet. Ah, ah! have you finished, Grimaud?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo!” said Athos; “that does honor to your imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +“All very well,” said Porthos, “but I should like to understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us decamp first, and you will understand afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“A moment, gentlemen, a moment; give Grimaud time to clear away the breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud was already ahead, with the basket and the dessert. The four friends +followed, ten paces behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil shall we do now, gentlemen?” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you forgotten anything?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“The white flag, <i>morbleu!</i> We must not leave a flag in the hands of the +enemy, even if that flag be but a napkin.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But Athos might be said to bear a charmed life. The balls passed and whistled +all around him; not one struck him. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +Athos came down; his friends, who anxiously awaited him, saw him returned with +joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along, Athos, come along!” cried D’Artagnan; “now we have found +everything except money, it would be stupid to be killed.” +</p> + +<p> +But Athos continued to march majestically, whatever remarks his companions +made; and they, finding their remarks useless, regulated their pace by his. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud and his basket were far in advance, out of the range of the balls. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of an instant they heard a furious fusillade. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Porthos, “what are they firing at now? I hear no balls +whistle, and I see nobody!” +</p> + +<p> +“They are firing at the corpses,” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“But the dead cannot return their fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I comprehend now,” said the astonished Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s lucky,” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +On their part, the French, on seeing the four friends return at such a step, +uttered cries of enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“These Rochellais are bungling fellows,” said Athos; “how many have we killed +of them—a dozen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or fifteen.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many did we crush under the wall?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight or ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in exchange for all that not even a scratch! Ah, but what is the matter +with your hand, D’Artagnan? It bleeds, seemingly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s nothing,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“A spent ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even that.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That comes of wearing diamonds, my master,” said Athos, disdainfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a bit!” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well thought of, Porthos; this time you have an idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly,” said Porthos, drawing himself up at Athos’s compliment; “as +there is a diamond, let us sell it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said D’Artagnan, “it is the queen’s diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +Abbé? I don’t ask Porthos; his opinion has been given.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Aramis, you speak like theology personified. Your advice, then, +is—” +</p> + +<p> +“To sell the diamond,” replied Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said D’Artagnan, gaily, “let us sell the diamond, and say no more +about it.” +</p> + +<p> +The fusillade continued; but the four friends were out of reach, and the +Rochellais only fired to appease their consciences. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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—an undertaking of which they were far from suspecting +the real motive. Nothing was heard but cries 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 +Houdinière, his captain of the Guards, to inquire what was going on. +</p> + +<p> +The affair was described to the messenger with all the effervescence of +enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked the cardinal, on seeing La Houdinière return. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you inquire the names of those three Musketeers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are their names?” +</p> + +<p> +“Messieurs Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still my three brave fellows!” murmured the cardinal. “And the Guardsman?” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still my young scapegrace. Positively, these four men must be on my side.” +</p> + +<p> +The same evening the cardinal spoke to M. de Tréville of the exploit of the +morning, which was the talk of the whole camp. M. de Tréville, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well, Monsieur de Tréville,” said the cardinal; “pray let that napkin +be sent to me. I will have three <i>fleur-de-lis</i> embroidered on it in gold, +and will give it to your company as a standard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said M. de Tréville, “that will be unjust to the Guardsmen. +Monsieur d’Artagnan is not with me; he serves under Monsieur Dessessart.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +That same evening M. de Tréville announced this good news to the three +Musketeers and D’Artagnan, inviting all four to breakfast with him next +morning. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was beside himself with joy. We know that the dream of his life had +been to become a Musketeer. The three friends were likewise greatly delighted. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which we can resume now without anybody suspecting us, for, with the help of +God, we shall henceforth pass for cardinalists.” +</p> + +<p> +That evening D’Artagnan went to present his respects to M. Dessessart, and +inform him of his promotion. +</p> + +<p> +M. Dessessart, who esteemed D’Artagnan, made him offers of help, as this change +would entail expenses for equipment. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan refused; but thinking the opportunity a good one, he begged him to +have the diamond he put into his hand valued, as he wished to turn it into +money. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, M. Dessessart’s valet came to D’Artagnan’s lodging, and gave him +a bag containing seven thousand livres. +</p> + +<p> +This was the price of the queen’s diamond. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap48"></a>Chapter XLVIII.<br/> +A FAMILY AFFAIR</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">thos</span> 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, <i>family affair</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis had discovered the idea, <i>the lackeys</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos had discovered the means, <i>the diamond</i>. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! no, we were mistaken; he had discovered a purchaser for his diamond. +</p> + +<p> +The breakfast at M. de Tréville’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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, it was agreed that they should meet again in the evening at +Athos’s lodging, and there finish their plans. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan passed the day in exhibiting his Musketeer’s uniform in every street +of the camp. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately,” said Athos, “he whom we send must possess in himself alone the +four qualities united.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where is such a lackey to be found?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to be found!” cried Athos. “I know it well, so take Grimaud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take Mousqueton.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take Bazin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take Planchet. Planchet is brave and shrewd; they are two qualities out of the +four.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What Aramis says is very sensible,” replied Athos; “we must speculate upon the +faults of people, and not upon their virtues. Monsieur Abbé, you are a great +moralist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless,” said Aramis, “for we not only require to be well served in order +to succeed, but moreover, not to fail; for in case of failure, heads are in +question, not for our lackeys—” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak lower, Aramis,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s wise—not for the lackeys,” resumed Aramis, “but for the +master—for the <i>masters</i>, we may say. Are our lackeys sufficiently +devoted to us to risk their lives for us? No.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said D’Artagnan. “I would almost answer for Planchet.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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, +<i>parbleu</i>, if we write to Lord de Winter about affairs of vast importance, +of the horrors of the cardinal—” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak lower!” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“—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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see,” said Athos, assuming in advance a critical look. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Monsieur and dear friend</i>—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes! <i>Dear friend</i> 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps. I will say, then, <i>Monsieur</i>, quite short.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may even say, <i>My Lord</i>,” replied Athos, who stickled for propriety. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>My Lord, do you remember the little goat pasture of the Luxembourg?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, <i>the Luxembourg!</i> One might believe this is an allusion to the +queen-mother! That’s ingenious,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, we will put simply, <i>My Lord, do you remember a certain little +enclosure where your life was spared?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear D’Artagnan, you will never make anything but a very bad secretary. +<i>Where your life was spared!</i> For shame! that’s unworthy. A man of spirit +is not to be reminded of such services. A benefit reproached is an offense +committed.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said D’Artagnan, “you are insupportable. If the letter must be +written under your censure, my faith, I renounce the task.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 Abbé. That’s his province.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay!” said Porthos; “pass the pen to Aramis, who writes theses in Latin.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lower! <i>sacré bleu!</i>” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued Aramis, “the details escape me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And me also,” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this is what you have to say,” said D’Artagnan: “<i>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</i>—” D’Artagnan stopped, as if +seeking for the word, and looked at Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Repudiated by her husband,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Because she had been branded,” continued D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” cried Porthos. “Impossible! What do you say—that she wanted to +have her brother-in-law killed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was married?” asked Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And her husband found out that she had a <i>fleur-de-lis</i> on her shoulder?” +cried Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +These three <i>yeses</i> had been pronounced by Athos, each with a sadder +intonation. +</p> + +<p> +“And who has seen this <i>fleur-de-lis?</i>” inquired Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan and I. Or rather, to observe the chronological order, I and +D’Artagnan,” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“And does the husband of this frightful creature still live?” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“He still lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you quite sure of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am he.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of cold silence, during which everyone was affected +according to his nature. +</p> + +<p> +“This time,” said Athos, first breaking the silence, “D’Artagnan has given us +an excellent program, and the letter must be written at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 Châtellerault, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How much in that little bag?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven thousand livres, in louis of twelve francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven thousand livres!” cried Porthos. “That poor little diamond was worth +seven thousand livres?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said Athos; “but that concerns Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied the latter, blushing, “what must I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s simple enough!” replied Athos. “Write a second letter for that +clever personage who lives at Tours.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis resumed his pen, reflected a little, and wrote the following lines, +which he immediately submitted to the approbation of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>My dear cousin</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Athos. “This clever person is your relative, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cousin-german.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, to your cousin, then!” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis continued: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>Y DEAR</small> C<small>OUSIN</small>, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is easily done,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +He folded the letter fancifully, and took up his pen and wrote: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“<i>To Mlle. Michon, seamstress, Tours</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +The three friends looked at one another and laughed; they were caught. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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: <i>London, sir, if you please, and +my master, Lord D’Artagnan</i>. With that you may be satisfied he can make his +way, both going and returning.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 Abbé here, for extraordinary occasions or common +wants. Will that do?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Athos,” said Aramis, “you speak like Nestor, who was, as everyone +knows, the wisest among the Greeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I will carry the letter in the lining of my coat,” said Planchet; “and if I am +taken I will swallow it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but then you will not be able to fulfill your commission,” said +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“You will give me a copy this evening, which I shall know by heart tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan looked at his friends, as if to say, “Well, what did I tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, monsieur,” said Planchet, “you must buy me a watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur!” said Planchet, humiliated by the suspicion, and moreover, +terrified at the calm air of the Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Porthos, rolling his large eyes, “remember, I will skin you +alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Aramis, with his soft, melodius voice, “remember that I will +roast you at a slow fire, like a savage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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: <i>Watch over his Grace Lord +Buckingham, for they wish to assassinate him</i>. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied, monsieur,” said Planchet, “you shall see if confidence can be +placed in me.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin set out the next day for Tours, and was allowed eight days for performing +his commission. +</p> + +<p> +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; Milady was a phantom which, when it had once appeared to people, +did not allow them to sleep very quietly. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, blushing in spite of himself, took the letter, which was in a large, +coarse hand and not particular for its orthography. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” cried he, laughing, “I quite despair of my poor Michon; she will +never write like Monsieur de Voiture.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does you mean by boor Michon?” said the Swiss, who was chatting with the +four friends when the letter came. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, <i>pardieu</i>, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“The duvil!” said the Swiss, “if she is as great a lady as her writing is +large, you are a lucky fellow, gomrade!” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis read the letter, and passed it to Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“See what she writes to me, Athos,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Athos cast a glance over the epistle, and to disperse all the suspicions that +might have been created, read aloud: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>Y</small> C<small>OUSIN</small>, 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. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“M<small>ARIE</small> M<small>ICHON</small>” +</p> + +<p> +“And what dream does she mean?” asked the dragoon, who had approached during +the reading. +</p> + +<p> +“Yez; what’s the dream?” said the Swiss. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <i>pardieu!</i>” said Aramis, “it was only this: I had a dream, and I +related it to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yez, yez,” said the Swiss; “it’s simple enough to dell a dream, but I neffer +dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very fortunate,” said Athos, rising; “I wish I could say as much!” +</p> + +<p> +“Neffer,” replied the Swiss, enchanted that a man like Athos could envy him +anything. “Neffer, neffer!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, seeing Athos rise, did likewise, took his arm, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis remained behind to encounter the jokes of the dragoon and +the Swiss. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 credited 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he does not come?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very fastidious,” said Athos; “such a beautiful woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“A woman of mark!” said Porthos, with his loud laugh. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“We are lost,” said D’Artagnan, in the ear of Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to say we <i>have lost</i>,” 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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet!” cried D’Artagnan, beside himself with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Planchet!” repeated Aramis and Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, never,” said Planchet, “I will never leave Monsieur d’Artagnan.” +</p> + +<p> +At the same time D’Artagnan felt that Planchet slipped a note into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the note,” said he to Athos and to his friends. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well,” said Athos, “let us go home and read it.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +It contained half a line, in a hand perfectly British, and with a conciseness +as perfectly Spartan: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Thank you; be easy</i>. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan translated this for the others. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not to blame for having tried every means to compress it,” said Planchet. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” cried D’Artagnan, “tell us all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Dame</i>, that’s a long job, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said D’Artagnan. “Go to bed, Planchet, and sleep soundly.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, monsieur! that will be the first time I have done so for sixteen +days.” +</p> + +<p> +“And me, too!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And me, too!” said Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“And me, too!” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you will have the truth, and me, too!” said Athos. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap49"></a>Chapter XLIX.<br/> +FATALITY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">eantime</span> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Judith, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Milady, that woman so courageous and firm, shivered in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may perceive, madame, by my uniform, that I am an officer in the English +navy,” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, it is the custom, not from gallantry but prudence, that in time +of war foreigners should be conducted to particular hôtels, in order that they +may remain under the eye of the government until full information can be +obtained about them.” +</p> + +<p> +These words were pronounced with the most exact politeness and the most perfect +calmness. Nevertheless, they had not the power of convincing Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“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—” +</p> + +<p> +“This measure is general, madame; and you will seek in vain to evade it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will follow you, then, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Row!” said he to the sailors. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes they gained the land. +</p> + +<p> +The officer leaped to the pier, and offered his hand to Milady. A carriage was +in waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this carriage for us?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame,” replied the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“The hôtel, then, is far away?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the other end of the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Milady; and she resolutely entered the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“But we are no longer in the city, sir,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +The young officer preserved silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you to understand, sir, I will go no farther unless you tell me whither +you are taking me.” +</p> + +<p> +This threat brought no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, this is too much,” cried Milady. “Help! help!” +</p> + +<p> +No voice replied to hers; the carriage continued to roll on with rapidity; the +officer seemed a statue. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The young man remained immovable. +</p> + +<p> +Milady tried to open the door in order to throw herself out. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, madame,” said the young man, coolly, “you will kill yourself in +jumping.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you don’t know me, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the first time I have had the honor of seeing you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on your honor, you have no cause of hatred against me?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, I swear to you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was so much serenity, coolness, mildness even, in the voice of the young +man, that Milady felt reassured. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But no one entered except two or three marines, who brought her trunks and +packages, deposited them in a corner, and retired without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +It might have been said that between this man and his inferiors spoken language +did not exist, or had become useless. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who is that other person?” asked Milady, warmly. “Can you not tell me his +name?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“That person is here, madame,” said the officer, leaving the entrance open, and +drawing himself up in an attitude of respect. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced, after entering into the +circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady involuntarily drew back. +</p> + +<p> +Then when she had no longer any doubt, she cried, in a state of stupor, “What, +my brother, is it you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, fair lady!” replied Lord de Winter, making a bow, half courteous, half +ironical; “it is I, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this castle, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“This chamber?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am, then, your prisoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this is a frightful abuse of power!” +</p> + +<p> +“No high-sounding words! Let us sit down and chat quietly, as brother and +sister ought to do.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap50"></a>Chapter L.<br/> +CHAT BETWEEN BROTHER AND SISTER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">D</span><span +class="dropspan">uring</span> 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 +<i>fauteuil</i>, 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? +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter adopted the same tactics as Milady, thinking that as his +sister-in-law employed them they must be the best. +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me, my dear sister,” replied he, “what makes you come to England?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +auditor by a falsehood. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, to see me?” said de Winter, cunningly. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure, to see you. What is there astonishing in that?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you had no other object in coming to England but to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it was for me alone you have taken the trouble to cross the Channel?” +</p> + +<p> +“For you alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce! What tenderness, my sister!” +</p> + +<p> +“But am I not your nearest relative?” demanded Milady, with a tone of the most +touching ingenuousness. +</p> + +<p> +“And my only heir, are you not?” said Lord de Winter in his turn, fixing his +eyes on those of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; what I think astonishing is that you should expect my coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady knew that Lord de Winter lied, and she was the more alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother,” continued she, “was not that my Lord Buckingham whom I saw on the +jetty this evening as we arrived?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My friend the cardinal!” cried Milady, seeing that on this point as on the +other Lord de Winter seemed well instructed. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I reply that you shall be served to the height of your wishes, and that +we shall see each other every day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I, then, to remain here eternally?” demanded Milady, with a certain terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you find yourself badly lodged, sister? Demand anything you want, and I +will hasten to have you furnished with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have neither my women nor my servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My first husband!” cried Milady, looking at Lord de Winter with eyes almost +starting from their sockets. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +A cold sweat burst from the brow of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“You jest!” said she, in a hollow voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I look so?” asked the baron, rising and going a step backward. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I insult you!” said Lord de Winter, with contempt. “In truth, madame, do you +think that can be possible?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sir,” said Milady, “you must be either drunk or mad. Leave the room, +and send me a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” said he. “I know you are accustomed to assassinate people; but I warn +you I shall defend myself, even against you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said Milady. “You have all the appearance of being cowardly +enough to lift your hand against a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +And the baron pointed, with a slow and accusing gesture, to the left shoulder +of Milady, which he almost touched with his finger. +</p> + +<p> +Milady uttered a deep, inward shriek, and retreated to a corner of the room +like a panther which crouches for a spring. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady listened with an attention that dilated her inflamed eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady, finding her thoughts betrayed, dug her nails into her flesh to subdue +every emotion that might give to her face any expression except agony. +</p> + +<p> +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. <i>Pardieu!</i> if +you succeed with him, I pronounce you the demon himself.” +</p> + +<p> +He went toward the door and opened it hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Call Mr. Felton,” said he. “Wait a minute longer, and I will introduce him to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, my dear John,” said Lord de Winter, “come in, and shut the door.” +</p> + +<p> +The young officer entered. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is sufficient, my Lord! I have sworn.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now, madame, try to make your peace with God, for you are judged by men!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap51"></a>Chapter LI.<br/> +OFFICER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">eanwhile</span>, the cardinal looked anxiously for news from +England; but no news arrived that was not annoying and threatening. +</p> + +<p> +Although La Rochelle was invested, however certain success might +appear—thanks to the precautions taken, and above all to the dyke, which +prevented the entrance of any vessel into the besieged city—the blockade +might last a long time yet. This was a great affront to the king’s army, and a +great inconvenience to the cardinal, who had no longer, it is true, to embroil +Louis XIII. with Anne of Austria—for that affair was over—but he had +to adjust matters for M. de Bassompierre, who was embroiled with the Duc +d’Angoulême. +</p> + +<p> +As to Monsieur, who had begun the siege, he left to the cardinal the task of +finishing it. +</p> + +<p> +The city, notwithstanding the incredible perseverance of its mayor, had +attempted a sort of mutiny for a surrender; the mayor had hanged the mutineers. +This execution quieted the ill-disposed, who resolved to allow themselves to +die of hunger—this death always appearing to them more slow and less sure +than strangulation. +</p> + +<p> +On their side, from time to time, the besiegers took the messengers which the +Rochellais sent to Buckingham, or the spies which Buckingham sent to the +Rochellais. In one case or the other, the trial was soon over. The cardinal +pronounced the single word, “Hanged!” The king was invited to come and see the +hanging. He came languidly, placing himself in a good situation to see all the +details. This amused him sometimes a little, and made him endure the siege with +patience; but it did not prevent his getting very tired, or from talking at +every moment of returning to Paris—so that if the messengers and the +spies had failed, his Eminence, notwithstanding all his inventiveness, would +have found himself much embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, time passed on, and the Rochellais did not surrender. The last +spy that was taken was the bearer of a letter. This letter told Buckingham that +the city was at an extremity; but instead of adding, “If your succor does not +arrive within fifteen days, we will surrender,” it added, quite simply, “If +your succor comes not within fifteen days, we shall all be dead with hunger +when it comes.” +</p> + +<p> +The Rochellais, then, had no hope but in Buckingham. Buckingham was their +Messiah. It was evident that if they one day learned positively that they must +not count on Buckingham, their courage would fail with their hope. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal looked, then, with great impatience for the news from England +which would announce to him that Buckingham would not come. +</p> + +<p> +The question of carrying the city by assault, though often debated in the +council of the king, had been always rejected. In the first place, La Rochelle +appeared impregnable. Then the cardinal, whatever he said, very well knew that +the horror of bloodshed in this encounter, in which Frenchman would combat +against Frenchman, was a retrograde movement of sixty years impressed upon his +policy; and the cardinal was at that period what we now call a man of progress. +In fact, the sack of La Rochelle, and the assassination of three of four +thousand Huguenots who allowed themselves to be killed, would resemble too +closely, in 1628, the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572; and then, above all +this, this extreme measure, which was not at all repugnant to the king, good +Catholic as he was, always fell before this argument of the besieging +generals—La Rochelle is impregnable except to famine. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal could not drive from his mind the fear he entertained of his +terrible emissary—for he comprehended the strange qualities of this +woman, sometimes a serpent, sometimes a lion. Had she betrayed him? Was she +dead? He knew her well enough in all cases to know that, whether acting for or +against him, as a friend or an enemy, she would not remain motionless without +great impediments; but whence did these impediments arise? That was what he +could not know. +</p> + +<p> +And yet he reckoned, and with reason, on Milady. He had divined in the past of +this woman terrible things which his red mantle alone could cover; and he felt, +from one cause or another, that this woman was his own, as she could look to no +other but himself for a support superior to the danger which threatened her. +</p> + +<p> +He resolved, then, to carry on the war alone, and to look for no success +foreign to himself, but as we look for a fortunate chance. He continued to +press the raising of the famous dyke which was to starve La Rochelle. +Meanwhile, he cast his eyes over that unfortunate city, which contained so much +deep misery and so many heroic virtues, and recalling the saying of Louis XI., +his political predecessor, as he himself was the predecessor of Robespierre, he +repeated this maxim of Tristan’s gossip: “Divide in order to reign.” +</p> + +<p> +Henry IV., when besieging Paris, had loaves and provisions thrown over the +walls. The cardinal had little notes thrown over in which he represented to the +Rochellais how unjust, selfish, and barbarous was the conduct of their leaders. +These leaders had corn in abundance, and would not let them partake of it; they +adopted as a maxim—for they, too, had maxims—that it was of very +little consequence that women, children, and old men should die, so long as the +men who were to defend the walls remained strong and healthy. Up to that time, +whether from devotedness or from want of power to act against it, this maxim, +without being generally adopted, nevertheless passed from theory into practice; +but the notes did it injury. The notes reminded the men that the children, +women, and old men whom they allowed to die were their sons, their wives, and +their fathers, and that it would be more just for everyone to be reduced to the +common misery, in order that equal conditions should give birth to unanimous +resolutions. +</p> + +<p> +These notes had all the effect that he who wrote them could expect, in that +they induced a great number of the inhabitants to open private negotiations +with the royal army. +</p> + +<p> +But at the moment when the cardinal saw his means already bearing fruit, and +applauded himself for having put it in action, an inhabitant of La Rochelle who +had contrived to pass the royal lines—God knows how, such was the +watchfulness of Bassompierre, Schomberg, and the Duc d’Angoulême, themselves +watched over by the cardinal—an inhabitant of La Rochelle, we say, +entered the city, coming from Portsmouth, and saying that he had seen a +magnificent fleet ready to sail within eight days. Still further, Buckingham +announced to the mayor that at length the great league was about to declare +itself against France, and that the kingdom would be at once invaded by the +English, Imperial, and Spanish armies. This letter was read publicly in all +parts of the city. Copies were put up at the corners of the streets; and even +they who had begun to open negotiations interrupted them, being resolved to +await the succor so pompously announced. +</p> + +<p> +This unexpected circumstance brought back Richelieu’s former anxiety, and +forced him in spite of himself once more to turn his eyes to the other side of +the sea. +</p> + +<p> +During this time, exempt from the anxiety of its only and true chief, the royal +army led a joyous life, neither provisions nor money being wanting in the camp. +All the corps rivaled one another in audacity and gaiety. To take spies and +hang them, to make hazardous expeditions upon the dyke or the sea, to imagine +wild plans, and to execute them coolly—such were the pastimes which made +the army find these days short which were not only so long to the Rochellais, a +prey to famine and anxiety, but even to the cardinal, who blockaded them so +closely. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes when the cardinal, always on horseback, like the lowest +<i>gendarme</i> of the army, cast a pensive glance over those works, so slowly +keeping pace with his wishes, which the engineers, brought from all the corners +of France, were executing under his orders, if he met a Musketeer of the +company of Tréville, he drew near and looked at him in a peculiar manner, and +not recognizing in him one of our four companions, he turned his penetrating +look and profound thoughts in another direction. +</p> + +<p> +One day when oppressed with a mortal weariness of mind, without hope in the +negotiations with the city, without news from England, the cardinal went out, +without any other aim than to be out of doors, and accompanied only by Cahusac +and La Houdinière, strolled along the beach. Mingling the immensity of his +dreams with the immensity of the ocean, he came, his horse going at a foot’s +pace, to a hill from the top of which he perceived behind a hedge, reclining on +the sand and catching in its passage one of those rays of the sun so rare at +this period of the year, seven men surrounded by empty bottles. Four of these +men were our Musketeers, preparing to listen to a letter one of them had just +received. This letter was so important that it made them forsake their cards +and their dice on the drumhead. +</p> + +<p> +The other three were occupied in opening an enormous flagon of Collicure wine; +these were the lackeys of these gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal was, as we have said, in very low spirits; and nothing when he was +in that state of mind increased his depression so much as gaiety in others. +Besides, he had another strange fancy, which was always to believe that the +causes of his sadness created the gaiety of others. Making a sign to La +Houdinière and Cahusac to stop, he alighted from his horse, and went toward +these suspected merry companions, hoping, by means of the sand which deadened +the sound of his steps and of the hedge which concealed his approach, to catch +some words of this conversation which appeared so interesting. At ten paces +from the hedge he recognized the talkative Gascon; and as he had already +perceived that these men were Musketeers, he did not doubt that the three +others were those called the Inseparables; that is to say, Athos, Porthos, and +Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +It may be supposed that his desire to hear the conversation was augmented by +this discovery. His eyes took a strange expression, and with the step of a +tiger-cat he advanced toward the hedge; but he had not been able to catch more +than a few vague syllables without any positive sense, when a sonorous and +short cry made him start, and attracted the attention of the Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +“Officer!” cried Grimaud. +</p> + +<p> +“You are speaking, you scoundrel!” said Athos, rising upon his elbow, and +transfixing Grimaud with his flaming look. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud therefore added nothing to his speech, but contented himself with +pointing his index finger in the direction of the hedge, announcing by this +gesture the cardinal and his escort. +</p> + +<p> +With a single bound the Musketeers were on their feet, and saluted with +respect. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal seemed furious. +</p> + +<p> +“It appears that Messieurs the Musketeers keep guard,” said he. “Are the +English expected by land, or do the Musketeers consider themselves superior +officers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied Athos, for amid the general fright he alone had +preserved the noble calmness and coolness that never forsook him, “Monseigneur, +the Musketeers, when they are not on duty, or when their duty is over, drink +and play at dice, and they are certainly superior officers to their lackeys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lackeys?” grumbled the cardinal. “Lackeys who have the order to warn their +masters when anyone passes are not lackeys, they are sentinels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Eminence may perceive that if we had not taken this precaution, we should +have been exposed to allowing you to pass without presenting you our respects +or offering you our thanks for the favor you have done us in uniting us. +D’Artagnan,” continued Athos, “you, who but lately were so anxious for such an +opportunity for expressing your gratitude to Monseigneur, here it is; avail +yourself of it.” +</p> + +<p> +These words were pronounced with that imperturbable phlegm which distinguished +Athos in the hour of danger, and with that excessive politeness which made of +him at certain moments a king more majestic than kings by birth. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan came forward and stammered out a few words of gratitude which soon +expired under the gloomy looks of the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“It does not signify, gentlemen,” continued the cardinal, without appearing to +be in the least swerved from his first intention by the diversion which Athos +had started, “it does not signify, gentlemen. I do not like to have simple +soldiers, because they have the advantage of serving in a privileged corps, +thus to play the great lords; discipline is the same for them as for everybody +else.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos allowed the cardinal to finish his sentence completely, and bowed in sign +of assent. Then he resumed in his turn: “Discipline, Monseigneur, has, I hope, +in no way been forgotten by us. We are not on duty, and we believed that not +being on duty we were at liberty to dispose of our time as we pleased. If we +are so fortunate as to have some particular duty to perform for your Eminence, +we are ready to obey you. Your Eminence may perceive,” continued Athos, +knitting his brow, for this sort of investigation began to annoy him, “that we +have not come out without our arms.” +</p> + +<p> +And he showed the cardinal, with his finger, the four muskets piled near the +drum, on which were the cards and dice. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Eminence may believe,” added D’Artagnan, “that we would have come to meet +you, if we could have supposed it was Monseigneur coming toward us with so few +attendants.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal bit his mustache, and even his lips a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what you look like, all together, as you are armed and guarded by +your lackeys?” said the cardinal. “You look like four conspirators.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that, Monseigneur, it is true,” said Athos; “we do conspire, as your +Eminence might have seen the other morning. Only we conspire against the +Rochellais.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you gentlemen of policy!” replied the cardinal, knitting his brow in his +turn, “the secret of many unknown things might perhaps be found in your brains, +if we could read them as you read that letter which you concealed as soon as +you saw me coming.” +</p> + +<p> +The color mounted to the face of Athos, and he made a step toward his Eminence. +</p> + +<p> +“One might think you really suspected us, monseigneur, and we were undergoing a +real interrogatory. If it be so, we trust your Eminence will deign to explain +yourself, and we should then at least be acquainted with our real position.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it were an interrogatory!” replied the cardinal. “Others besides you +have undergone such, Monsieur Athos, and have replied thereto.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus I have told your Eminence that you had but to question us, and we are +ready to reply.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was that letter you were about to read, Monsieur Aramis, and which you so +promptly concealed?” +</p> + +<p> +“A woman’s letter, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, I see,” said the cardinal; “we must be discreet with this sort of +letters; but nevertheless, we may show them to a confessor, and you know I have +taken orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said Athos, with a calmness the more terrible because he risked +his head in making this reply, “the letter is a woman’s letter, but it is +neither signed Marion de Lorme, nor Madame d’Aiguillon.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal became as pale as death; lightning darted from his eyes. He turned +round as if to give an order to Cahusac and Houdinière. Athos saw the movement; +he made a step toward the muskets, upon which the other three friends had fixed +their eyes, like men ill-disposed to allow themselves to be taken. The +cardinalists were three; the Musketeers, lackeys included, were seven. He +judged that the match would be so much the less equal, if Athos and his +companions were really plotting; and by one of those rapid turns which he +always had at command, all his anger faded away into a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well!” said he, “you are brave young men, proud in daylight, faithful in +darkness. We can find no fault with you for watching over yourselves, when you +watch so carefully over others. Gentlemen, I have not forgotten the night in +which you served me as an escort to the Red Dovecot. If there were any danger +to be apprehended on the road I am going, I would request you to accompany me; +but as there is none, remain where you are, finish your bottles, your game, and +your letter. Adieu, gentlemen!” +</p> + +<p> +And remounting his horse, which Cahusac led to him, he saluted them with his +hand, and rode away. +</p> + +<p> +The four young men, standing and motionless, followed him with their eyes +without speaking a single word until he had disappeared. Then they looked at +one another. +</p> + +<p> +The countenances of all gave evidence of terror, for notwithstanding the +friendly adieu of his Eminence, they plainly perceived that the cardinal went +away with rage in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Athos alone smiled, with a self-possessed, disdainful smile. +</p> + +<p> +When the cardinal was out of hearing and sight, “That Grimaud kept bad watch!” +cried Porthos, who had a great inclination to vent his ill-humor on somebody. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud was about to reply to excuse himself. Athos lifted his finger, and +Grimaud was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I,” said Aramis, in his most flutelike tone, “I had made up my mind. If he had +insisted upon the letter being given up to him, I would have presented the +letter to him with one hand, and with the other I would have run my sword +through his body.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expected as much,” said Athos; “and that was why I threw myself between you +and him. Indeed, this man is very much to blame for talking thus to other men; +one would say he had never had to do with any but women and children.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Athos, I admire you, but nevertheless we were in the wrong, after +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, in the wrong?” said Athos. “Whose, then, is the air we breathe? Whose is +the ocean upon which we look? Whose is the sand upon which we were reclining? +Whose is that letter of your mistress? Do these belong to the cardinal? Upon my +honor, this man fancies the world belongs to him. There you stood, stammering, +stupefied, annihilated. One might have supposed the Bastille appeared before +you, and that the gigantic Medusa had converted you into stone. Is being in +love conspiring? You are in love with a woman whom the cardinal has caused to +be shut up, and you wish to get her out of the hands of the cardinal. That’s a +match you are playing with his Eminence; this letter is your game. Why should +you expose your game to your adversary? That is never done. Let him find it out +if he can! We can find out his!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s all very sensible, Athos,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, let there be no more question of what’s past, and let Aramis +resume the letter from his cousin where the cardinal interrupted him.” +</p> + +<p> +Aramis drew the letter from his pocket; the three friends surrounded him, and +the three lackeys grouped themselves again near the wine jar. +</p> + +<p> +“You had only read a line or two,” said D’Artagnan; “read the letter again from +the commencement.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly,” said Aramis. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>Y DEAR</small> C<small>OUSIN</small>, I think I shall make up my mind +to set out for Béthune, where my sister has placed our little servant in the +convent of the Carmelites; this poor child is quite resigned, as she knows she +cannot live elsewhere without the salvation of her soul being in danger. +Nevertheless, if the affairs of our family are arranged, as we hope they will +be, I believe she will run the risk of being damned, and will return to those +she regrets, particularly as she knows they are always thinking of her. +Meanwhile, she is not very wretched; what she most desires is a letter from her +intended. I know that such viands pass with difficulty through convent +gratings; but after all, as I have given you proofs, my dear cousin, I am not +unskilled in such affairs, and I will take charge of the commission. My sister +thanks you for your good and eternal remembrance. She has experienced much +anxiety; but she is now at length a little reassured, having sent her secretary +away in order that nothing may happen unexpectedly.<br/> + “Adieu, my dear cousin. Tell us news of yourself as often as you can; that +is to say, as often as you can with safety. I embrace you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“M<small>ARIE</small> M<small>ICHON</small>” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what do I not owe you, Aramis?” said D’Artagnan. “Dear Constance! I have +at length, then, intelligence of you. She lives; she is in safety in a convent; +she is at Béthune! Where is Béthune, Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, upon the frontiers of Artois and of Flanders. The siege once over, we +shall be able to make a tour in that direction.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that will not be long, it is to be hoped,” said Porthos; “for they have +this morning hanged a spy who confessed that the Rochellais were reduced to the +leather of their shoes. Supposing that after having eaten the leather they eat +the soles, I cannot see much that is left unless they eat one another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fools!” said Athos, emptying a glass of excellent Bordeaux wine which, +without having at that period the reputation it now enjoys, merited it no less, +“poor fools! As if the Catholic religion was not the most advantageous and the +most agreeable of all religions! All the same,” resumed he, after having +clicked his tongue against his palate, “they are brave fellows! But what the +devil are you about, Aramis?” continued Athos. “Why, you are squeezing that +letter into your pocket!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said D’Artagnan, “Athos is right, it must be burned. And yet if we burn +it, who knows whether Monsieur Cardinal has not a secret to interrogate ashes?” +</p> + +<p> +“He must have one,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do with the letter, then?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Grimaud,” said Athos. Grimaud rose and obeyed. “As a punishment for +having spoken without permission, my friend, you will please to eat this piece +of paper; then to recompense you for the service you will have rendered us, you +shall afterward drink this glass of wine. First, here is the letter. Eat +heartily.” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud smiled; and with his eyes fixed upon the glass which Athos held in his +hand, he ground the paper well between his teeth and then swallowed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Monsieur Grimaud!” said Athos; “and now take this. That’s well. We +dispense with your saying grace.” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud silently swallowed the glass of Bordeaux wine; but his eyes, raised +toward heaven during this delicious occupation, spoke a language which, though +mute, was not the less expressive. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Athos, “unless Monsieur Cardinal should form the ingenious idea +of ripping up Grimaud, I think we may be pretty much at our ease respecting the +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, his Eminence continued his melancholy ride, murmuring between his +mustaches, “These four men must positively be mine.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap52"></a>Chapter LII.<br/> +CAPTIVITY: THE FIRST DAY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">L</span><span +class="dropspan">et</span> us return to Milady, whom a glance thrown upon the +coast of France has made us lose sight of for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +We shall find her still in the despairing attitude in which we left her, +plunged in an abyss of dismal reflection—a dark hell at the gate of which +she has almost left hope behind, because for the first time she doubts, for the +first time she fears. +</p> + +<p> +On two occasions her fortune has failed her, on two occasions she has found +herself discovered and betrayed; and on these two occasions it was to one fatal +genius, sent doubtlessly by the Lord to combat her, that she has succumbed. +D’Artagnan has conquered her—her, that invincible power of evil. +</p> + +<p> +He has deceived her in her love, humbled her in her pride, thwarted her in her +ambition; and now he ruins her fortune, deprives her of liberty, and even +threatens her life. Still more, he has lifted the corner of her mask—that +shield with which she covered herself and which rendered her so strong. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan has turned aside from Buckingham, whom she hates as she hates +everyone she has loved, the tempest with which Richelieu threatened him in the +person of the queen. D’Artagnan had passed himself upon her as De Wardes, for +whom she had conceived one of those tigerlike fancies common to women of her +character. D’Artagnan knows that terrible secret which she has sworn no one +shall know without dying. In short, at the moment in which she has just +obtained from Richelieu a <i>carte blanche</i> by the means of which she is +about to take vengeance on her enemy, this precious paper is torn from her +hands, and it is D’Artagnan who holds her prisoner and is about to send her to +some filthy Botany Bay, some infamous Tyburn of the Indian Ocean. +</p> + +<p> +All this she owes to D’Artagnan, without doubt. From whom can come so many +disgraces heaped upon her head, if not from him? He alone could have +transmitted to Lord de Winter all these frightful secrets which he has +discovered, one after another, by a train of fatalities. He knows her +brother-in-law. He must have written to him. +</p> + +<p> +What hatred she distills! Motionless, with her burning and fixed glances, in +her solitary apartment, how well the outbursts of passion which at times escape +from the depths of her chest with her respiration, accompany the sound of the +surf which rises, growls, roars, and breaks itself like an eternal and +powerless despair against the rocks on which is built this dark and lofty +castle! How many magnificent projects of vengeance she conceives by the light +of the flashes which her tempestuous passion casts over her mind against Mme. +Bonacieux, against Buckingham, but above all against D’Artagnan—projects +lost in the distance of the future. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; but in order to avenge herself she must be free. And to be free, a +prisoner has to pierce a wall, detach bars, cut through a floor—all +undertakings which a patient and strong man may accomplish, but before which +the feverish irritations of a woman must give way. Besides, to do all this, +time is necessary—months, years; and she has ten or twelve days, as Lord +de Winter, her fraternal and terrible jailer, has told her. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, if she were a man she would attempt all this, and perhaps might +succeed; why, then, did heaven make the mistake of placing that manlike soul in +that frail and delicate body? +</p> + +<p> +The first moments of her captivity were terrible; a few convulsions of rage +which she could not suppress paid her debt of feminine weakness to nature. But +by degrees she overcame the outbursts of her mad passion; and nervous +tremblings which agitated her frame disappeared, and she remained folded within +herself like a fatigued serpent in repose. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to, go to! I must have been mad to allow myself to be carried away so,” +says she, gazing into the glass, which reflects back to her eyes the burning +glance by which she appears to interrogate herself. “No violence; violence is +the proof of weakness. In the first place, I have never succeeded by that +means. Perhaps if I employed my strength against women I might perchance find +them weaker than myself, and consequently conquer them; but it is with men that +I struggle, and I am but a woman to them. Let me fight like a woman, then; my +strength is in my weakness.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as if to render an account to herself of the changes she could place upon +her countenance, so mobile and so expressive, she made it take all expressions +from that of passionate anger, which convulsed her features, to that of the +most sweet, most affectionate, and most seducing smile. Then her hair assumed +successively, under her skillful hands, all the undulations she thought might +assist the charms of her face. At length she murmured, satisfied with herself, +“Come, nothing is lost; I am still beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +It was then nearly eight o’clock in the evening. Milady perceived a bed; she +calculated that the repose of a few hours would not only refresh her head and +her ideas, but still further, her complexion. A better idea, however, came into +her mind before going to bed. She had heard something said about supper. She +had already been an hour in this apartment; they could not long delay bringing +her a repast. The prisoner did not wish to lose time; and she resolved to make +that very evening some attempts to ascertain the nature of the ground she had +to work upon, by studying the characters of the men to whose guardianship she +was committed. +</p> + +<p> +A light appeared under the door; this light announced the reappearance of her +jailers. Milady, who had arisen, threw herself quickly into the armchair, her +head thrown back, her beautiful hair unbound and disheveled, her bosom half +bare beneath her crumpled lace, one hand on her heart, and the other hanging +down. +</p> + +<p> +The bolts were drawn; the door groaned upon its hinges. Steps sounded in the +chamber, and drew near. +</p> + +<p> +“Place that table there,” said a voice which the prisoner recognized as that of +Felton. +</p> + +<p> +The order was executed. +</p> + +<p> +“You will bring lights, and relieve the sentinel,” continued Felton. +</p> + +<p> +And this double order which the young lieutenant gave to the same individuals +proved to Milady that her servants were the same men as her guards; that is to +say, soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Felton’s orders were, for the rest, executed with a silent rapidity that gave a +good idea of the way in which he maintained discipline. +</p> + +<p> +At length Felton, who had not yet looked at Milady, turned toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said he, “she is asleep; that’s well. When she wakes she can sup.” +And he made some steps toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my lieutenant,” said a soldier, less stoical than his chief, and who had +approached Milady, “this woman is not asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, not asleep!” said Felton; “what is she doing, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“She has fainted. Her face is very pale, and I have listened in vain; I do not +hear her breathe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said Felton, after having looked at Milady from the spot on +which he stood without moving a step toward her. “Go and tell Lord de Winter +that his prisoner has fainted—for this event not having been foreseen, I +don’t know what to do.” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier went out to obey the orders of his officer. Felton sat down upon an +armchair which happened to be near the door, and waited without speaking a +word, without making a gesture. Milady possessed that great art, so much +studied by women, of looking through her long eyelashes without appearing to +open the lids. She perceived Felton, who sat with his back toward her. She +continued to look at him for nearly ten minutes, and in these ten minutes the +immovable guardian never turned round once. +</p> + +<p> +She then thought that Lord de Winter would come, and by his presence give fresh +strength to her jailer. Her first trial was lost; she acted like a woman who +reckons up her resources. As a result she raised her head, opened her eyes, and +sighed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +At this sigh Felton turned round. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are awake, madame,” he said; “then I have nothing more to do here. If +you want anything you can ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God! how I have suffered!” said Milady, in that harmonious +voice which, like that of the ancient enchantresses, charmed all whom she +wished to destroy. +</p> + +<p> +And she assumed, upon sitting up in the armchair, a still more graceful and +abandoned position than when she reclined. +</p> + +<p> +Felton arose. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be served, thus, madame, three times a day,” said he. “In the morning +at nine o’clock, in the day at one o’clock, and in the evening at eight. If +that does not suit you, you can point out what other hours you prefer, and in +this respect your wishes will be complied with.” +</p> + +<p> +“But am I to remain always alone in this vast and dismal chamber?” asked +Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman of the neighbourhood has been sent for, who will be tomorrow at the +castle, and will return as often as you desire her presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, sir,” replied the prisoner, humbly. +</p> + +<p> +Felton made a slight bow, and directed his steps toward the door. At the moment +he was about to go out, Lord de Winter appeared in the corridor, followed by +the soldier who had been sent to inform him of the swoon of Milady. He held a +vial of salts in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is it—what is going on here?” said he, in a jeering voice, on +seeing the prisoner sitting up and Felton about to go out. “Is this corpse come +to life already? Felton, my lad, did you not perceive that you were taken for a +novice, and that the first act was being performed of a comedy of which we +shall doubtless have the pleasure of following out all the developments?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so, my lord,” said Felton; “but as the prisoner is a woman, after +all, I wish to pay her the attention that every man of gentle birth owes to a +woman, if not on her account, at least on my own.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady shuddered through her whole system. These words of Felton’s passed like +ice through her veins. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” replied de Winter, laughing, “that beautiful hair so skillfully +disheveled, that white skin, and that languishing look, have not yet seduced +you, you heart of stone?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my Lord,” replied the impassive young man; “your Lordship may be assured +that it requires more than the tricks and coquetry of a woman to corrupt me.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, my brave lieutenant, let us leave Milady to find out something +else, and go to supper; but be easy! She has a fruitful imagination, and the +second act of the comedy will not delay its steps after the first.” +</p> + +<p> +And at these words Lord de Winter passed his arm through that of Felton, and +led him out, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will be a match for you!” murmured Milady, between her teeth; “be +assured of that, you poor spoiled monk, you poor converted soldier, who has cut +his uniform out of a monk’s frock!” +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” resumed de Winter, stopping at the threshold of the door, “you +must not, Milady, let this check take away your appetite. Taste that fowl and +those fish. On my honor, they are not poisoned. I have a very good cook, and he +is not to be my heir; I have full and perfect confidence in him. Do as I do. +Adieu, dear sister, till your next swoon!” +</p> + +<p> +This was all that Milady could endure. Her hands clutched her armchair; she +ground her teeth inwardly; her eyes followed the motion of the door as it +closed behind Lord de Winter and Felton, and the moment she was alone a fresh +fit of despair seized her. She cast her eyes upon the table, saw the glittering +of a knife, rushed toward it and clutched it; but her disappointment was cruel. +The blade was round, and of flexible silver. +</p> + +<p> +A burst of laughter resounded from the other side of the ill-closed door, and +the door reopened. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!” cried Lord de Winter; “ha, ha! Don’t you see, my brave Felton; don’t +you see what I told you? That knife was for you, my lad; she would have killed +you. Observe, this is one of her peculiarities, to get rid thus, after one +fashion or another, of all the people who bother her. If I had listened to you, +the knife would have been pointed and of steel. Then no more of Felton; she +would have cut your throat, and after that everybody else’s. See, John, see how +well she knows how to handle a knife.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, Milady still held the harmless weapon in her clenched hand; but these +last words, this supreme insult, relaxed her hands, her strength, and even her +will. The knife fell to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“You were right, my Lord,” said Felton, with a tone of profound disgust which +sounded to the very bottom of the heart of Milady, “you were right, my Lord, +and I was wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +And both again left the room. +</p> + +<p> +But this time Milady lent a more attentive ear than the first, and she heard +their steps die away in the distance of the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“I am lost,” murmured she; “I am lost! I am in the power of men upon whom I can +have no more influence than upon statues of bronze or granite; they know me by +heart, and are steeled against all my weapons. It is, however, impossible that +this should end as they have decreed!” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, as this last reflection indicated—this instinctive return to +hope—sentiments of weakness or fear did not dwell long in her ardent +spirit. Milady sat down to table, ate from several dishes, drank a little +Spanish wine, and felt all her resolution return. +</p> + +<p> +Before she went to bed she had pondered, analyzed, turned on all sides, +examined on all points, the words, the steps, the gestures, the signs, and even +the silence of her interlocutors; and of this profound, skillful, and anxious +study the result was that Felton, everything considered, appeared the more +vulnerable of her two persecutors. +</p> + +<p> +One expression above all recurred to the mind of the prisoner: “If I had +listened to you,” Lord de Winter had said to Felton. +</p> + +<p> +Felton, then, had spoken in her favor, since Lord de Winter had not been +willing to listen to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Weak or strong,” repeated Milady, “that man has, then, a spark of pity in his +soul; of that spark I will make a flame that shall devour him. As to the other, +he knows me, he fears me, and knows what he has to expect of me if ever I +escape from his hands. It is useless, then, to attempt anything with him. But +Felton—that’s another thing. He is a young, ingenuous, pure man who seems +virtuous; him there are means of destroying.” +</p> + +<p> +And Milady went to bed and fell asleep with a smile upon her lips. Anyone who +had seen her sleeping might have said she was a young girl dreaming of the +crown of flowers she was to wear on her brow at the next festival. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap53"></a>Chapter LIII.<br/> +CAPTIVITY: THE SECOND DAY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">ilady</span> dreamed that she at length had D’Artagnan in her +power, that she was present at his execution; and it was the sight of his +odious blood, flowing beneath the ax of the headsman, which spread that +charming smile upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +She slept as a prisoner sleeps, rocked by his first hope. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning, when they entered her chamber she was still in bed. Felton +remained in the corridor. He brought with him the woman of whom he had spoken +the evening before, and who had just arrived; this woman entered, and +approaching Milady’s bed, offered her services. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was habitually pale; her complexion might therefore deceive a person who +saw her for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“I am in a fever,” said she; “I have not slept a single instant during all this +long night. I suffer horribly. Are you likely to be more humane to me than +others were yesterday? All I ask is permission to remain abed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to have a physician called?” said the woman. +</p> + +<p> +Felton listened to this dialogue without speaking a word. +</p> + +<p> +Milady reflected that the more people she had around her the more she would +have to work upon, and Lord de Winter would redouble his watch. Besides, the +physician might declare the ailment feigned; and Milady, after having lost the +first trick, was not willing to lose the second. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and fetch a physician?” said she. “What could be the good of that? These +gentlemen declared yesterday that my illness was a comedy; it would be just the +same today, no doubt—for since yesterday evening they have had plenty of +time to send for a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Felton, who became impatient, “say yourself, madame, what +treatment you wish followed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, how can I tell? My God! I know that I suffer, that’s all. Give me anything +you like, it is of little consequence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go and fetch Lord de Winter,” said Felton, tired of these eternal complaints. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, no!” cried Milady; “no, sir, do not call him, I conjure you. I am +well, I want nothing; do not call him.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave so much vehemence, such magnetic eloquence to this exclamation, that +Felton in spite of himself advanced some steps into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“He has come!” thought Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, madame, if you really suffer,” said Felton, “a physician shall be +sent for; and if you deceive us—well, it will be the worse for you. But +at least we shall not have to reproach ourselves with anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady made no reply, but turning her beautiful head round upon her pillow, she +burst into tears, and uttered heartbreaking sobs. +</p> + +<p> +Felton surveyed her for an instant with his usual impassiveness; then, seeing +that the crisis threatened to be prolonged, he went out. The woman followed +him, and Lord de Winter did not appear. +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy I begin to see my way,” murmured Milady, with a savage joy, burying +herself under the clothes to conceal from anybody who might be watching her +this burst of inward satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours passed away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now it is time that the malady should be over,” said she; “let me rise, and +obtain some success this very day. I have but ten days, and this evening two of +them will be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +In the morning, when they entered Milady’s chamber they had brought her +breakfast. Now, she thought, they could not long delay coming to clear the +table, and that Felton would then reappear. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was not deceived. Felton reappeared, and without observing whether +Milady had or had not touched her repast, made a sign that the table should be +carried out of the room, it having been brought in ready spread. +</p> + +<p> +Felton remained behind; he held a book in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Milady, reclining in an armchair near the chimney, beautiful, pale, and +resigned, looked like a holy virgin awaiting martyrdom. +</p> + +<p> +Felton approached her, and said, “Lord de Winter, who is a Catholic, like +yourself, madame, thinking that the deprivation of the rites and ceremonies of +your church might be painful to you, has consented that you should read every +day the ordinary of your Mass; and here is a book which contains the ritual.” +</p> + +<p> +At the manner in which Felton laid the book upon the little table near which +Milady was sitting, at the tone in which he pronounced the two words, <i>your +Mass</i>, at the disdainful smile with which he accompanied them, Milady raised +her head, and looked more attentively at the officer. +</p> + +<p> +By that plain arrangement of the hair, by that costume of extreme simplicity, +by the brow polished like marble and as hard and impenetrable, she recognized +one of those gloomy Puritans she had so often met, not only in the court of +King James, but in that of the King of France, where, in spite of the +remembrance of the St. Bartholomew, they sometimes came to seek refuge. +</p> + +<p> +She then had one of those sudden inspirations which only people of genius +receive in great crises, in supreme moments which are to decide their fortunes +or their lives. +</p> + +<p> +Those two words, <i>your Mass</i>, and a simple glance cast upon Felton, +revealed to her all the importance of the reply she was about to make; but with +that rapidity of intelligence which was peculiar to her, this reply, ready +arranged, presented itself to her lips: +</p> + +<p> +“I?” said she, with an accent of disdain in unison with that which she had +remarked in the voice of the young officer, “I, sir? <i>My Mass?</i> Lord de +Winter, the corrupted Catholic, knows very well that I am not of his religion, +and this is a snare he wishes to lay for me!” +</p> + +<p> +“And of what religion are you, then, madame?” asked Felton, with an +astonishment which in spite of the empire he held over himself he could not +entirely conceal. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell it,” cried Milady, with a feigned exultation, “on the day when I +shall have suffered sufficiently for my faith.” +</p> + +<p> +The look of Felton revealed to Milady the full extent of the space she had +opened for herself by this single word. +</p> + +<p> +The young officer, however, remained mute and motionless; his look alone had +spoken. +</p> + +<p> +“I am in the hands of my enemies,” continued she, with that tone of enthusiasm +which she knew was familiar to the Puritans. “Well, let my God save me, or let +me perish for my God! That is the reply I beg you to make to Lord de Winter. +And as to this book,” added she, pointing to the manual with her finger but +without touching it, as if she must be contaminated by it, “you may carry it +back and make use of it yourself, for doubtless you are doubly the accomplice +of Lord de Winter—the accomplice in his persecutions, the accomplice in +his heresies.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton made no reply, took the book with the same appearance of repugnance +which he had before manifested, and retired pensively. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter came toward five o’clock in the evening. Milady had had time, +during the whole day, to trace her plan of conduct. She received him like a +woman who had already recovered all her advantages. +</p> + +<p> +“It appears,” said the baron, seating himself in the armchair opposite that +occupied by Milady, and stretching out his legs carelessly upon the hearth, “it +appears we have made a little apostasy!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to say that since we last met you have changed your religion. You have +not by chance married a Protestant for a third husband, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain yourself, my Lord,” replied the prisoner, with majesty; “for though I +hear your words, I declare I do not understand them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have no religion at all; I like that best,” replied Lord de Winter, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly that is most in accord with your own principles,” replied Milady, +frigidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I confess it is all the same to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you need not avow this religious indifference, my Lord; your debaucheries +and crimes would vouch for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, you talk of debaucheries, Madame Messalina, Lady Macbeth! Either I +misunderstand you or you are very shameless!” +</p> + +<p> +“You only speak thus because you are overheard,” coolly replied Milady; “and +you wish to interest your jailers and your hangmen against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“My jailers and my hangmen! Heyday, madame! you are taking a poetical tone, and +the comedy of yesterday turns to a tragedy this evening. As to the rest, in +eight days you will be where you ought to be, and my task will be completed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Infamous task! impious task!” cried Milady, with the exultation of a victim +who provokes his judge. +</p> + +<p> +“My word,” said de Winter, rising, “I think the hussy is going mad! Come, come, +calm yourself, Madame Puritan, or I’ll remove you to a dungeon. It’s my Spanish +wine that has got into your head, is it not? But never mind; that sort of +intoxication is not dangerous, and will have no bad effects.” +</p> + +<p> +And Lord de Winter retired swearing, which at that period was a very knightly +habit. +</p> + +<p> +Felton was indeed behind the door, and had not lost one word of this scene. +Milady had guessed aright. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, go, go!” said she to her brother; “the effects <i>are</i> drawing near, +on the contrary; but you, weak fool, will not see them until it is too late to +shun them.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence was re-established. Two hours passed away. Milady’s supper was brought +in, and she was found deeply engaged in saying her prayers aloud—prayers +which she had learned of an old servant of her second husband, a most austere +Puritan. She appeared to be in ecstasy, and did not pay the least attention to +what was going on around her. Felton made a sign that she should not be +disturbed; and when all was arranged, he went out quietly with the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Milady knew she might be watched, so she continued her prayers to the end; and +it appeared to her that the soldier who was on duty at her door did not march +with the same step, and seemed to listen. For the moment she wished nothing +better. She arose, came to the table, ate but little, and drank only water. +</p> + +<p> +An hour after, her table was cleared; but Milady remarked that this time Felton +did not accompany the soldiers. He feared, then, to see her too often. +</p> + +<p> +She turned toward the wall to smile—for there was in this smile such an +expression of triumph that this smile alone would have betrayed her. +</p> + +<p> +She allowed, therefore, half an hour to pass away; and as at that moment all +was silence in the old castle, as nothing was heard but the eternal murmur of +the waves—that immense breaking of the ocean—with her pure, +harmonious, and powerful voice, she began the first couplet of the psalm then +in great favor with the Puritans: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Thou leavest thy servants, Lord,<br/> + To see if they be strong;<br/> +But soon thou dost afford<br/> + Thy hand to lead them on.” +</p> + +<p> +These verses were not excellent—very far from it; but as it is well +known, the Puritans did not pique themselves upon their poetry. +</p> + +<p> +While singing, Milady listened. The soldier on guard at her door stopped, as if +he had been changed into stone. Milady was then able to judge of the effect she +had produced. +</p> + +<p> +Then she continued her singing with inexpressible fervor and feeling. It +appeared to her that the sounds spread to a distance beneath the vaulted roofs, +and carried with them a magic charm to soften the hearts of her jailers. It +however likewise appeared that the soldier on duty—a zealous Catholic, no +doubt—shook off the charm, for through the door he called: “Hold your +tongue, madame! Your song is as dismal as a ‘De profundis’; and if besides the +pleasure of being in garrison here, we must hear such things as these, no +mortal can hold out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” then exclaimed another stern voice which Milady recognized as that +of Felton. “What are you meddling with, stupid? Did anybody order you to +prevent that woman from singing? No. You were told to guard her—to fire +at her if she attempted to fly. Guard her! If she flies, kill her; but don’t +exceed your orders.” +</p> + +<p> +An expression of unspeakable joy lightened the countenance of Milady; but this +expression was fleeting as the reflection of lightning. Without appearing to +have heard the dialogue, of which she had not lost a word, she began again, +giving to her voice all the charm, all the power, all the seduction the demon +had bestowed upon it: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“For all my tears, my cares,<br/> + My exile, and my chains,<br/> +I have my youth, my prayers,<br/> + And God, who counts my pains.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice, of immense power and sublime expression, gave to the rude, +unpolished poetry of these psalms a magic and an effect which the most exalted +Puritans rarely found in the songs of their brethren, and which they were +forced to ornament with all the resources of their imagination. Felton believed +he heard the singing of the angel who consoled the three Hebrews in the +furnace. +</p> + +<p> +Milady continued: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“One day our doors will ope,<br/> + With God come our desire;<br/> +And if betrays that hope,<br/> + To death we can aspire.” +</p> + +<p> +This verse, into which the terrible enchantress threw her whole soul, completed +the trouble which had seized the heart of the young officer. He opened the door +quickly; and Milady saw him appear, pale as usual, but with his eye inflamed +and almost wild. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you sing thus, and with such a voice?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, sir,” said Milady, with mildness. “I forgot that my songs are out +of place in this castle. I have perhaps offended you in your creed; but it was +without wishing to do so, I swear. Pardon me, then, a fault which is perhaps +great, but which certainly was involuntary.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady was so beautiful at this moment, the religious ecstasy in which she +appeared to be plunged gave such an expression to her countenance, that Felton +was so dazzled that he fancied he beheld the angel whom he had only just before +heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said he; “you disturb, you agitate the people who live in the +castle.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor, senseless young man was not aware of the incoherence of his words, +while Milady was reading with her lynx’s eyes the very depths of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I will be silent, then,” said Milady, casting down her eyes with all the +sweetness she could give to her voice, with all the resignation she could +impress upon her manner. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, madame,” said Felton, “only do not sing so loud, particularly at +night.” +</p> + +<p> +And at these words Felton, feeling that he could not long maintain his severity +toward his prisoner, rushed out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“You have done right, Lieutenant,” said the soldier. “Such songs disturb the +mind; and yet we become accustomed to them, her voice is so beautiful.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap54"></a>Chapter LIV.<br/> +CAPTIVITY: THE THIRD DAY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">F</span><span +class="dropspan">elton</span> had fallen; but there was still another step to +be taken. He must be retained, or rather he must be left quite alone; and +Milady but obscurely perceived the means which could lead to this result. +</p> + +<p> +Still more must be done. He must be made to speak, in order that he might be +spoken to—for Milady very well knew that her greatest seduction was in +her voice, which so skillfully ran over the whole gamut of tones from human +speech to language celestial. +</p> + +<p> +Yet in spite of all this seduction Milady might fail—for Felton was +forewarned, and that against the least chance. From that moment she watched all +his actions, all his words, from the simplest glance of his eyes to his +gestures—even to a breath that could be interpreted as a sigh. In short, +she studied everything, as a skillful comedian does to whom a new part has been +assigned in a line to which he is not accustomed. +</p> + +<p> +Face to face with Lord de Winter her plan of conduct was more easy. She had +laid that down the preceding evening. To remain silent and dignified in his +presence; from time to time to irritate him by affected disdain, by a +contemptuous word; to provoke him to threats and violence which would produce a +contrast with her own resignation—such was her plan. Felton would see +all; perhaps he would say nothing, but he would see. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning, Felton came as usual; but Milady allowed him to preside over +all the preparations for breakfast without addressing a word to him. At the +moment when he was about to retire, she was cheered with a ray of hope, for she +thought he was about to speak; but his lips moved without any sound leaving his +mouth, and making a powerful effort to control himself, he sent back to his +heart the words that were about to escape from his lips, and went out. Toward +midday, Lord de Winter entered. +</p> + +<p> +It was a tolerably fine winter’s day, and a ray of that pale English sun which +lights but does not warm came through the bars of her prison. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was looking out at the window, and pretended not to hear the door as it +opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah!” said Lord de Winter, “after having played comedy, after having played +tragedy, we are now playing melancholy?” +</p> + +<p> +The prisoner made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” continued Lord de Winter, “I understand. You would like very well +to be at liberty on that beach! You would like very well to be in a good ship +dancing upon the waves of that emerald-green sea; you would like very well, +either on land or on the ocean, to lay for me one of those nice little +ambuscades you are so skillful in planning. Patience, patience! In four days’ +time the shore will be beneath your feet, the sea will be open to +you—more open than will perhaps be agreeable to you, for in four days +England will be relieved of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady folded her hands, and raising her fine eyes toward heaven, “Lord, Lord,” +said she, with an angelic meekness of gesture and tone, “pardon this man, as I +myself pardon him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, pray, accursed woman!” cried the baron; “your prayer is so much the more +generous from your being, I swear to you, in the power of a man who will never +pardon you!” and he went out. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment he went out a piercing glance darted through the opening of the +nearly closed door, and she perceived Felton, who drew quickly to one side to +prevent being seen by her. +</p> + +<p> +Then she threw herself upon her knees, and began to pray. +</p> + +<p> +“My God, my God!” said she, “thou knowest in what holy cause I suffer; give me, +then, strength to suffer.” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened gently; the beautiful supplicant pretended not to hear the +noise, and in a voice broken by tears, she continued: +</p> + +<p> +“God of vengeance! God of goodness! wilt thou allow the frightful projects of +this man to be accomplished?” +</p> + +<p> +Then only she pretended to hear the sound of Felton’s steps, and rising quick +as thought, she blushed, as if ashamed of being surprised on her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like to disturb those who pray, madame,” said Felton, seriously; “do +not disturb yourself on my account, I beseech you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know I was praying, sir?” said Milady, in a voice broken by sobs. +“You were deceived, sir; I was not praying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think, then, madame,” replied Felton, in the same serious voice, but +with a milder tone, “do you think I assume the right of preventing a creature +from prostrating herself before her Creator? God forbid! Besides, repentance +becomes the guilty; whatever crimes they may have committed, for me the guilty +are sacred at the feet of God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Guilty? I?” said Milady, with a smile which might have disarmed the angel of +the last judgment. “Guilty? Oh, my God, thou knowest whether I am guilty! Say I +am condemned, sir, if you please; but you know that God, who loves martyrs, +sometimes permits the innocent to be condemned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you condemned, were you innocent, were you a martyr,” replied Felton, +“the greater would be the necessity for prayer; and I myself would aid you with +my prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are a just man!” cried Milady, throwing herself at his feet. “I can +hold out no longer, for I fear I shall be wanting in strength at the moment +when I shall be forced to undergo the struggle, and confess my faith. Listen, +then, to the supplication of a despairing woman. You are abused, sir; but that +is not the question. I only ask you one favor; and if you grant it me, I will +bless you in this world and in the next.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to the master, madame,” said Felton; “happily I am neither charged with +the power of pardoning nor punishing. It is upon one higher placed than I am +that God has laid this responsibility.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you—no, to you alone! Listen to me, rather than add to my +destruction, rather than add to my ignominy!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you have merited this shame, madame, if you have incurred this ignominy, +you must submit to it as an offering to God.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say? Oh, you do not understand me! When I speak of ignominy, you +think I speak of some chastisement, of imprisonment or death. Would to heaven! +Of what consequence to me is imprisonment or death?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I who no longer understand you, madame,” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Or, rather, who pretend not to understand me, sir!” replied the prisoner, with +a smile of incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, on the honor of a soldier, on the faith of a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, you are ignorant of Lord de Winter’s designs upon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible; you are his confidant!” +</p> + +<p> +“I never lie, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he conceals them too little for you not to divine them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek to divine nothing, madame; I wait till I am confided in, and apart from +that which Lord de Winter has said to me before you, he has confided nothing to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then,” cried Milady, with an incredible tone of truthfulness, “you are +not his accomplice; you do not know that he destines me to a disgrace which all +the punishments of the world cannot equal in horror?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are deceived, madame,” said Felton, blushing; “Lord de Winter is not +capable of such a crime.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said Milady to herself; “without thinking what it is, he calls it a +crime!” Then aloud, “The friend of that wretch is capable of everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you call <i>that wretch?</i>” asked Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Are there, then, in England two men to whom such an epithet can be applied?” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean George Villiers?” asked Felton, whose looks became excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom Pagans and unbelieving Gentiles call Duke of Buckingham,” replied Milady. +“I could not have thought that there was an Englishman in all England who would +have required so long an explanation to make him understand of whom I was +speaking.” +</p> + +<p> +“The hand of the Lord is stretched over him,” said Felton; “he will not escape +the chastisement he deserves.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton only expressed, with regard to the duke, the feeling of execration which +all the English had declared toward him whom the Catholics themselves called +the extortioner, the pillager, the debauchee, and whom the Puritans styled +simply Satan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” cried Milady; “when I supplicate thee to pour upon this +man the chastisement which is his due, thou knowest it is not my own vengeance +I pursue, but the deliverance of a whole nation that I implore!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know him, then?” asked Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“At length he interrogates me!” said Milady to herself, at the height of joy at +having obtained so quickly such a great result. “Oh, know him? Yes, yes! to my +misfortune, to my eternal misfortune!” and Milady twisted her arms as if in a +paroxysm of grief. +</p> + +<p> +Felton no doubt felt within himself that his strength was abandoning him, and +he made several steps toward the door; but the prisoner, whose eye never left +him, sprang in pursuit of him and stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” cried she, “be kind, be clement, listen to my prayer! That knife, which +the fatal prudence of the baron deprived me of, because he knows the use I +would make of it! Oh, hear me to the end! that knife, give it to me for a +minute only, for mercy’s, for pity’s sake! I will embrace your knees! You shall +shut the door that you may be certain I contemplate no injury to you! My God! +to you—the only just, good, and compassionate being I have met with! To +you—my preserver, perhaps! One minute that knife, one minute, a single +minute, and I will restore it to you through the grating of the door. Only one +minute, Mr. Felton, and you will have saved my honor!” +</p> + +<p> +“To kill yourself?” cried Felton, with terror, forgetting to withdraw his hands +from the hands of the prisoner, “to kill yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told, sir,” murmured Milady, lowering her voice, and allowing herself +to sink overpowered to the ground; “I have told my secret! He knows all! My +God, I am lost!” +</p> + +<p> +Felton remained standing, motionless and undecided. +</p> + +<p> +“He still doubts,” thought Milady; “I have not been earnest enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Someone was heard in the corridor; Milady recognized the step of Lord de +Winter. +</p> + +<p> +Felton recognized it also, and made a step toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +Milady sprang toward him. “Oh, not a word,” said she in a concentrated voice, +“not a word of all that I have said to you to this man, or I am lost, and it +would be you—you—” +</p> + +<p> +Then as the steps drew near, she became silent for fear of being heard, +applying, with a gesture of infinite terror, her beautiful hand to Felton’s +mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Felton gently repulsed Milady, and she sank into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter passed before the door without stopping, and they heard the +noise of his footsteps soon die away. +</p> + +<p> +Felton, as pale as death, remained some instants with his ear bent and +listening; then, when the sound was quite extinct, he breathed like a man +awaking from a dream, and rushed out of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Milady, listening in her turn to the noise of Felton’s steps, which +withdrew in a direction opposite to those of Lord de Winter; “at length you are +mine!” +</p> + +<p> +Then her brow darkened. “If he tells the baron,” said she, “I am lost—for +the baron, who knows very well that I shall not kill myself, will place me +before him with a knife in my hand, and he will discover that all this despair +is but acted.” +</p> + +<p> +She placed herself before the glass, and regarded herself attentively; never +had she appeared more beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said she, smiling, “but we won’t tell him!” +</p> + +<p> +In the evening Lord de Winter accompanied the supper. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Milady, “is your presence an indispensable accessory of my +captivity? Could you not spare me the increase of torture which your visits +cause me?” +</p> + +<p> +“How, dear sister!” said Lord de Winter. “Did not you sentimentally inform me +with that pretty mouth of yours, so cruel to me today, that you came to England +solely for the pleasure of seeing me at your ease, an enjoyment of which you +told me you so sensibly felt the deprivation that you had risked everything for +it—seasickness, tempest, captivity? Well, here I am; be satisfied. +Besides, this time, my visit has a motive.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady trembled; she thought Felton had told all. Perhaps never in her life had +this woman, who had experienced so many opposite and powerful emotions, felt +her heart beat so violently. +</p> + +<p> +She was seated. Lord de Winter took a chair, drew it toward her, and sat down +close beside her. Then taking a paper out of his pocket, he unfolded it slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said he, “I want to show you the kind of passport which I have drawn +up, and which will serve you henceforward as the rule of order in the life I +consent to leave you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then turning his eyes from Milady to the paper, he read: “‘Order to +conduct—’ The name is blank,” interrupted Lord de Winter. “If you have +any preference you can point it out to me; and if it be not within a thousand +leagues of London, attention will be paid to your wishes. I will begin again, +then: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“‘Order to conduct to—the person named Charlotte Backson, branded by the +justice of the kingdom of France, but liberated after chastisement. She is to +dwell in this place without ever going more than three leagues from it. In case +of any attempt to escape, the penalty of death is to be applied. She will +receive five shillings per day for lodging and food’”. +</p> + +<p> +“That order does not concern me,” replied Milady, coldly, “since it bears +another name than mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“A name? Have you a name, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I bear that of your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, but you are mistaken. My brother is only your second husband; and your +first is still living. Tell me his name, and I will put it in the place of the +name of Charlotte Backson. No? You will not? You are silent? Well, then you +must be registered as Charlotte Backson.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady remained silent; only this time it was no longer from affectation, but +from terror. She believed the order ready for execution. She thought that Lord +de Winter had hastened her departure; she thought she was condemned to set off +that very evening. Everything in her mind was lost for an instant; when all at +once she perceived that no signature was attached to the order. The joy she +felt at this discovery was so great she could not conceal it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Lord de Winter, who perceived what was passing in her mind; +“yes, you look for the signature, and you say to yourself: ‘All is not lost, +for that order is not signed. It is only shown to me to terrify me, that’s +all.’ You are mistaken. Tomorrow this order will be sent to the Duke of +Buckingham. The day after tomorrow it will return signed by his hand and marked +with his seal; and four-and-twenty hours afterward I will answer for its being +carried into execution. Adieu, madame. That is all I had to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I reply to you, sir, that this abuse of power, this exile under a +fictitious name, are infamous!” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like better to be hanged in your true name, Milady? You know that +the English laws are inexorable on the abuse of marriage. Speak freely. +Although my name, or rather that of my brother, would be mixed up with the +affair, I will risk the scandal of a public trial to make myself certain of +getting rid of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady made no reply, but became as pale as a corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I see you prefer peregrination. That’s well madame; and there is an old +proverb that says, ‘Traveling trains youth.’ My faith! you are not wrong after +all, and life is sweet. That’s the reason why I take such care you shall not +deprive me of mine. There only remains, then, the question of the five +shillings to be settled. You think me rather parsimonious, don’t you? That’s +because I don’t care to leave you the means of corrupting your jailers. +Besides, you will always have your charms left to seduce them with. Employ +them, if your check with regard to Felton has not disgusted you with attempts +of that kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Felton has not told him,” said Milady to herself. “Nothing is lost, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now, madame, till I see you again! Tomorrow I will come and announce to +you the departure of my messenger.” +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter rose, saluted her ironically, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +Milady breathed again. She had still four days before her. Four days would +quite suffice to complete the seduction of Felton. +</p> + +<p> +A terrible idea, however, rushed into her mind. She thought that Lord de Winter +would perhaps send Felton himself to get the order signed by the Duke of +Buckingham. In that case Felton would escape her—for in order to secure +success, the magic of a continuous seduction was necessary. Nevertheless, as we +have said, one circumstance reassured her. Felton had not spoken. +</p> + +<p> +As she would not appear to be agitated by the threats of Lord de Winter, she +placed herself at the table and ate. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as she had done the evening before, she fell on her knees and repeated +her prayers aloud. As on the evening before, the soldier stopped his march to +listen to her. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after she heard lighter steps than those of the sentinel, which came from +the end of the corridor and stopped before her door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is he,” said she. And she began the same religious chant which had so +strongly excited Felton the evening before. +</p> + +<p> +But although her voice—sweet, full, and sonorous—vibrated as +harmoniously and as affectingly as ever, the door remained shut. It appeared +however to Milady that in one of the furtive glances she darted from time to +time at the grating of the door she thought she saw the ardent eyes of the +young man through the narrow opening. But whether this was reality or vision, +he had this time sufficient self-command not to enter. +</p> + +<p> +However, a few instants after she had finished her religious song, Milady +thought she heard a profound sigh. Then the same steps she had heard approach +slowly withdrew, as if with regret. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap55"></a>Chapter LV.<br/> +CAPTIVITY: THE FOURTH DAY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> next day, when Felton entered Milady’s apartment he +found her standing, mounted upon a chair, holding in her hands a cord made by +means of torn cambric handkerchiefs, twisted into a kind of rope one with +another, and tied at the ends. At the noise Felton made in entering, Milady +leaped lightly to the ground, and tried to conceal behind her the improvised +cord she held in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +The young man was more pale than usual, and his eyes, reddened by want of +sleep, denoted that he had passed a feverish night. Nevertheless, his brow was +armed with a severity more austere than ever. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced slowly toward Milady, who had seated herself, and taking an end of +the murderous rope which by neglect, or perhaps by design, she allowed to be +seen, “What is this, madame?” he asked coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“That? Nothing,” said Milady, smiling with that painful expression which she +knew so well how to give to her smile. “Ennui is the mortal enemy of prisoners; +I had ennui, and I amused myself with twisting that rope.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton turned his eyes toward the part of the wall of the apartment before +which he had found Milady standing in the armchair in which she was now seated, +and over her head he perceived a gilt-headed screw, fixed in the wall for the +purpose of hanging up clothes or weapons. +</p> + +<p> +He started, and the prisoner saw that start—for though her eyes were cast +down, nothing escaped her. +</p> + +<p> +“What were you doing on that armchair?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what consequence?” replied Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” replied Felton, “I wish to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not question me,” said the prisoner; “you know that we who are true +Christians are forbidden to lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said Felton, “I will tell you what you were doing, or rather what +you meant to do; you were going to complete the fatal project you cherish in +your mind. Remember, madame, if our God forbids falsehood, he much more +severely condemns suicide.” +</p> + +<p> +“When God sees one of his creatures persecuted unjustly, placed between suicide +and dishonor, believe me, sir,” replied Milady, in a tone of deep conviction, +“God pardons suicide, for then suicide becomes martyrdom.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say either too much or too little; speak, madame. In the name of heaven, +explain yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I may relate my misfortunes for you to treat them as fables; that I may +tell you my projects for you to go and betray them to my persecutor? No, sir. +Besides, of what importance to you is the life or death of a condemned wretch? +You are only responsible for my body, is it not so? And provided you produce a +carcass that may be recognized as mine, they will require no more of you; nay, +perhaps you will even have a double reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, madame, I?” cried Felton. “You suppose that I would ever accept the price +of your life? Oh, you cannot believe what you say!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me act as I please, Felton, let me act as I please,” said Milady, elated. +“Every soldier must be ambitious, must he not? You are a lieutenant? Well, you +will follow me to the grave with the rank of captain.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have I, then, done to you,” said Felton, much agitated, “that you should +load me with such a responsibility before God and before men? In a few days you +will be away from this place; your life, madame, will then no longer be under +my care, and,” added he, with a sigh, “then you can do what you will with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So,” cried Milady, as if she could not resist giving utterance to a holy +indignation, “you, a pious man, you who are called a just man, you ask but one +thing—and that is that you may not be inculpated, annoyed, by my death!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is my duty to watch over your life, madame, and I will watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you understand the mission you are fulfilling? Cruel enough, if I am +guilty; but what name can you give it, what name will the Lord give it, if I am +innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a soldier, madame, and fulfill the orders I have received.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe, then, that at the day of the Last Judgment God will separate +blind executioners from iniquitous judges? You are not willing that I should +kill my body, and you make yourself the agent of him who would kill my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I repeat it again to you,” replied Felton, in great emotion, “no danger +threatens you; I will answer for Lord de Winter as for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunce,” cried Milady, “dunce! who dares to answer for another man, when the +wisest, when those most after God’s own heart, hesitate to answer for +themselves, and who ranges himself on the side of the strongest and the most +fortunate, to crush the weakest and the most unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, madame, impossible,” murmured Felton, who felt to the bottom of +his heart the justness of this argument. “A prisoner, you will not recover your +liberty through me; living, you will not lose your life through me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Milady, “but I shall lose that which is much dearer to me than +life, I shall lose my honor, Felton; and it is you, you whom I make +responsible, before God and before men, for my shame and my infamy.” +</p> + +<p> +This time Felton, immovable as he was, or appeared to be, could not resist the +secret influence which had already taken possession of him. To see this woman, +so beautiful, fair as the brightest vision, to see her by turns overcome with +grief and threatening; to resist at once the ascendancy of grief and +beauty—it was too much for a visionary; it was too much for a brain +weakened by the ardent dreams of an ecstatic faith; it was too much for a heart +furrowed by the love of heaven that burns, by the hatred of men that devours. +</p> + +<p> +Milady saw the trouble. She felt by intuition the flame of the opposing +passions which burned with the blood in the veins of the young fanatic. As a +skillful general, seeing the enemy ready to surrender, marches toward him with +a cry of victory, she rose, beautiful as an antique priestess, inspired like a +Christian virgin, her arms extended, her throat uncovered, her hair disheveled, +holding with one hand her robe modestly drawn over her breast, her look +illumined by that fire which had already created such disorder in the veins of +the young Puritan, and went toward him, crying out with a vehement air, and in +her melodious voice, to which on this occasion she communicated a terrible +energy: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Let this victim to Baal be sent,<br/> + To the lions the martyr be thrown!<br/> +Thy God shall teach thee to repent!<br/> + From th’ abyss he’ll give ear to my moan.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton stood before this strange apparition like one petrified. +</p> + +<p> +“Who art thou? Who art thou?” cried he, clasping his hands. “Art thou a +messenger from God; art thou a minister from hell; art thou an angel or a +demon; callest thou thyself Eloa or Astarte?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not know me, Felton? I am neither an angel nor a demon; I am a daughter +of earth, I am a sister of thy faith, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes!” said Felton, “I doubted, but now I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe, and still you are an accomplice of that child of Belial who is +called Lord de Winter! You believe, and yet you leave me in the hands of mine +enemies, of the enemy of England, of the enemy of God! You believe, and yet you +deliver me up to him who fills and defiles the world with his heresies and +debaucheries—to that infamous Sardanapalus whom the blind call the Duke +of Buckingham, and whom believers name Antichrist!” +</p> + +<p> +“I deliver you up to Buckingham? I? what mean you by that?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have eyes,” cried Milady, “but they see not; ears have they, but they +hear not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes!” said Felton, passing his hands over his brow, covered with sweat, +as if to remove his last doubt. “Yes, I recognize the voice which speaks to me +in my dreams; yes, I recognize the features of the angel who appears to me +every night, crying to my soul, which cannot sleep: ‘Strike, save England, save +thyself—for thou wilt die without having appeased God!’ Speak, speak!” +cried Felton, “I can understand you now.” +</p> + +<p> +A flash of terrible joy, but rapid as thought, gleamed from the eyes of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +However fugitive this homicide flash, Felton saw it, and started as if its +light had revealed the abysses of this woman’s heart. He recalled, all at once, +the warnings of Lord de Winter, the seductions of Milady, her first attempts +after her arrival. He drew back a step, and hung down his head, without, +however, ceasing to look at her, as if, fascinated by this strange creature, he +could not detach his eyes from her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was not a woman to misunderstand the meaning of this hesitation. Under +her apparent emotions her icy coolness never abandoned her. Before Felton +replied, and before she should be forced to resume this conversation, so +difficult to be sustained in the same exalted tone, she let her hands fall; and +as if the weakness of the woman overpowered the enthusiasm of the inspired +fanatic, she said: “But no, it is not for me to be the Judith to deliver +Bethulia from this Holofernes. The sword of the eternal is too heavy for my +arm. Allow me, then, to avoid dishonor by death; let me take refuge in +martyrdom. I do not ask you for liberty, as a guilty one would, nor for +vengeance, as would a pagan. Let me die; that is all. I supplicate you, I +implore you on my knees—let me die, and my last sigh shall be a blessing +for my preserver.” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing that voice, so sweet and suppliant, seeing that look, so timid and +downcast, Felton reproached himself. By degrees the enchantress had clothed +herself with that magic adornment which she assumed and threw aside at will; +that is to say, beauty, meekness, and tears—and above all, the +irresistible attraction of mystical voluptuousness, the most devouring of all +voluptuousness. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Felton, “I can do but one thing, which is to pity you if you prove +to me you are a victim! But Lord de Winter makes cruel accusations against you. +You are a Christian; you are my sister in religion. I feel myself drawn toward +you—I, who have never loved anyone but my benefactor—I who have met +with nothing but traitors and impious men. But you, madame, so beautiful in +reality, you, so pure in appearance, must have committed great iniquities for +Lord de Winter to pursue you thus.” +</p> + +<p> +“They have eyes,” repeated Milady, with an accent of indescribable grief, “but +they see not; ears have they, but they hear not.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried the young officer, “speak, then, speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“Confide my shame to you,” cried Milady, with the blush of modesty upon her +countenance, “for often the crime of one becomes the shame of +another—confide my shame to you, a man, and I a woman? Oh,” continued +she, placing her hand modestly over her beautiful eyes, “never! never!—I +could not!” +</p> + +<p> +“To me, to a brother?” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +Milady looked at him for some time with an expression which the young man took +for doubt, but which, however, was nothing but observation, or rather the wish +to fascinate. +</p> + +<p> +Felton, in his turn a suppliant, clasped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said Milady, “I confide in my brother; I will dare to—” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the steps of Lord de Winter were heard; but this time the +terrible brother-in-law of Milady did not content himself, as on the preceding +day, with passing before the door and going away again. He paused, exchanged +two words with the sentinel; then the door opened, and he appeared. +</p> + +<p> +During the exchange of these two words Felton drew back quickly, and when Lord +de Winter entered, he was several paces from the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +The baron entered slowly, sending a scrutinizing glance from Milady to the +young officer. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been here a very long time, John,” said he. “Has this woman been +relating her crimes to you? In that case I can comprehend the length of the +conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton started; and Milady felt she was lost if she did not come to the +assistance of the disconcerted Puritan. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you fear your prisoner should escape!” said she. “Well, ask your worthy +jailer what favor I this instant solicited of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You demanded a favor?” said the baron, suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my Lord,” replied the young man, confused. +</p> + +<p> +“And what favor, pray?” asked Lord de Winter. +</p> + +<p> +“A knife, which she would return to me through the grating of the door a minute +after she had received it,” replied Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“There is someone, then, concealed here whose throat this amiable lady is +desirous of cutting,” said de Winter, in an ironical, contemptuous tone. +</p> + +<p> +“There is myself,” replied Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“I have given you the choice between America and Tyburn,” replied Lord de +Winter. “Choose Tyburn, madame. Believe me, the cord is more certain than the +knife.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton grew pale, and made a step forward, remembering that at the moment he +entered Milady had a rope in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said she, “I have often thought of it.” Then she added in a +low voice, “And I will think of it again.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton felt a shudder run to the marrow of his bones; probably Lord de Winter +perceived this emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistrust yourself, John,” said he. “I have placed reliance upon you, my +friend. Beware! I have warned you! But be of good courage, my lad; in three +days we shall be delivered from this creature, and where I shall send her she +can harm nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +“You hear him!” cried Milady, with vehemence, so that the baron might believe +she was addressing heaven, and that Felton might understand she was addressing +him. +</p> + +<p> +Felton lowered his head and reflected. +</p> + +<p> +The baron took the young officer by the arm, and turned his head over his +shoulder, so as not to lose sight of Milady till he was gone out. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the prisoner, when the door was shut, “I am not so far advanced as +I believed. De Winter has changed his usual stupidity into a strange prudence. +It is the desire of vengeance, and how desire molds a man! As to Felton, he +hesitates. Ah, he is not a man like that cursed D’Artagnan. A Puritan only +adores virgins, and he adores them by clasping his hands. A Musketeer loves +women, and he loves them by clasping his arms round them.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady waited, then, with much impatience, for she feared the day would pass +away without her seeing Felton again. At last, in an hour after the scene we +have just described, she heard someone speaking in a low voice at the door. +Presently the door opened, and she perceived Felton. +</p> + +<p> +The young man advanced rapidly into the chamber, leaving the door open behind +him, and making a sign to Milady to be silent; his face was much agitated. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want with me?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” replied Felton, in a low voice. “I have just sent away the sentinel +that I might remain here without anybody knowing it, in order to speak to you +without being overheard. The baron has just related a frightful story to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady assumed her smile of a resigned victim, and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Either you are a demon,” continued Felton, “or the baron—my benefactor, +my father—is a monster. I have known you four days; I have loved him four +years. I therefore may hesitate between you. Be not alarmed at what I say; I +want to be convinced. Tonight, after twelve, I will come and see you, and you +shall convince me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Felton, no, my brother,” said she; “the sacrifice is too great, and I feel +what it must cost you. No, I am lost; do not be lost with me. My death will be +much more eloquent than my life, and the silence of the corpse will convince +you much better than the words of the prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent, madame,” cried Felton, “and do not speak to me thus; I came to +entreat you to promise me upon your honor, to swear to me by what you hold most +sacred, that you will make no attempt upon your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not promise,” said Milady, “for no one has more respect for a promise +or an oath than I have; and if I make a promise I must keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Felton, “only promise till you have seen me again. If, when you +have seen me again, you still persist—well, then you shall be free, and I +myself will give you the weapon you desire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Milady, “for you I will wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear it, by our God. Are you satisfied?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Felton, “till tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +And he darted out of the room, shut the door, and waited in the corridor, the +soldier’s half-pike in his hand, and as if he had mounted guard in his place. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier returned, and Felton gave him back his weapon. +</p> + +<p> +Then, through the grating to which she had drawn near, Milady saw the young man +make a sign with delirious fervor, and depart in an apparent transport of joy. +</p> + +<p> +As for her, she returned to her place with a smile of savage contempt upon her +lips, and repeated, blaspheming, that terrible name of God, by whom she had +just sworn without ever having learned to know Him. +</p> + +<p> +“My God,” said she, “what a senseless fanatic! My God, it is +I—I—and this fellow who will help me to avenge myself.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap56"></a>Chapter LVI.<br/> +CAPTIVITY: THE FIFTH DAY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">M</span><span +class="dropspan">ilady</span> had however achieved a half-triumph, and success +doubled her forces. +</p> + +<p> +It was not difficult to conquer, as she had hitherto done, men prompt to let +themselves be seduced, and whom the gallant education of a court led quickly +into her net. Milady was handsome enough not to find much resistance on the +part of the flesh, and she was sufficiently skillful to prevail over all the +obstacles of the mind. +</p> + +<p> +But this time she had to contend with an unpolished nature, concentrated and +insensible by force of austerity. Religion and its observances had made Felton +a man inaccessible to ordinary seductions. There fermented in that sublimated +brain plans so vast, projects so tumultuous, that there remained no room for +any capricious or material love—that sentiment which is fed by leisure +and grows with corruption. Milady had, then, made a breach by her false virtue +in the opinion of a man horribly prejudiced against her, and by her beauty in +the heart of a man hitherto chaste and pure. In short, she had taken the +measure of motives hitherto unknown to herself, through this experiment, made +upon the most rebellious subject that nature and religion could submit to her +study. +</p> + +<p> +Many a time, nevertheless, during the evening she despaired of fate and of +herself. She did not invoke God, we very well know, but she had faith in the +genius of evil—that immense sovereignty which reigns in all the details +of human life, and by which, as in the Arabian fable, a single pomegranate seed +is sufficient to reconstruct a ruined world. +</p> + +<p> +Milady, being well prepared for the reception of Felton, was able to erect her +batteries for the next day. She knew she had only two days left; that when once +the order was signed by Buckingham—and Buckingham would sign it the more +readily from its bearing a false name, and he could not, therefore, recognize +the woman in question—once this order was signed, we say, the baron would +make her embark immediately, and she knew very well that women condemned to +exile employ arms much less powerful in their seductions than the pretendedly +virtuous woman whose beauty is lighted by the sun of the world, whose style the +voice of fashion lauds, and whom a halo of aristocracy gilds with enchanting +splendors. To be a woman condemned to a painful and disgraceful punishment is +no impediment to beauty, but it is an obstacle to the recovery of power. Like +all persons of real genius, Milady knew what suited her nature and her means. +Poverty was repugnant to her; degradation took away two-thirds of her +greatness. Milady was only a queen while among queens. The pleasure of +satisfied pride was necessary to her domination. To command inferior beings was +rather a humiliation than a pleasure for her. +</p> + +<p> +She should certainly return from her exile—she did not doubt that a +single instant; but how long might this exile last? For an active, ambitious +nature, like that of Milady, days not spent in climbing are inauspicious days. +What word, then, can be found to describe the days which they occupy in +descending? To lose a year, two years, three years, is to talk of an eternity; +to return after the death or disgrace of the cardinal, perhaps; to return when +D’Artagnan and his friends, happy and triumphant, should have received from the +queen the reward they had well acquired by the services they had rendered +her—these were devouring ideas that a woman like Milady could not endure. +For the rest, the storm which raged within her doubled her strength, and she +would have burst the walls of her prison if her body had been able to take for +a single instant the proportions of her mind. +</p> + +<p> +Then that which spurred her on additionally in the midst of all this was the +remembrance of the cardinal. What must the mistrustful, restless, suspicious +cardinal think of her silence—the cardinal, not merely her only support, +her only prop, her only protector at present, but still further, the principal +instrument of her future fortune and vengeance? She knew him; she knew that at +her return from a fruitless journey it would be in vain to tell him of her +imprisonment, in vain to enlarge upon the sufferings she had undergone. The +cardinal would reply, with the sarcastic calmness of the skeptic, strong at +once by power and genius, “You should not have allowed yourself to be taken.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Milady collected all her energies, murmuring in the depths of her soul the +name of Felton—the only beam of light that penetrated to her in the hell +into which she had fallen; and like a serpent which folds and unfolds its rings +to ascertain its strength, she enveloped Felton beforehand in the thousand +meshes of her inventive imagination. +</p> + +<p> +Time, however, passed away; the hours, one after another, seemed to awaken the +clock as they passed, and every blow of the brass hammer resounded upon the +heart of the prisoner. At nine o’clock, Lord de Winter made his customary +visit, examined the window and the bars, sounded the floor and the walls, +looked to the chimney and the doors, without, during this long and minute +examination, he or Milady pronouncing a single word. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless both of them understood that the situation had become too serious to +lose time in useless words and aimless wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the baron, on leaving her “you will not escape tonight!” +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock Felton came and placed the sentinel. Milady recognized his step. +She was as well acquainted with it now as a mistress is with that of the lover +of her heart; and yet Milady at the same time detested and despised this weak +fanatic. +</p> + +<p> +That was not the appointed hour. Felton did not enter. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours after, as midnight sounded, the sentinel was relieved. This time it +<i>was</i> the hour, and from this moment Milady waited with impatience. The +new sentinel commenced his walk in the corridor. At the expiration of ten +minutes Felton came. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was all attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said the young man to the sentinel. “On no pretense leave the door, +for you know that last night my Lord punished a soldier for having quit his +post for an instant, although I, during his absence, watched in his place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know it,” said the soldier. +</p> + +<p> +“I recommend you therefore to keep the strictest watch. For my part I am going +to pay a second visit to this woman, who I fear entertains sinister intentions +upon her own life, and I have received orders to watch her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” murmured Milady; “the austere Puritan lies.” +</p> + +<p> +As to the soldier, he only smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Zounds, Lieutenant!” said he; “you are not unlucky in being charged with such +commissions, particularly if my Lord has authorized you to look into her bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton blushed. Under any other circumstances he would have reprimanded the +soldier for indulging in such pleasantry, but his conscience murmured too loud +for his mouth to dare speak. +</p> + +<p> +“If I call, come,” said he. “If anyone comes, call me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, Lieutenant,” said the soldier. +</p> + +<p> +Felton entered Milady’s apartment. Milady arose. +</p> + +<p> +“You are here!” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“I promised to come,” said Felton, “and I have come.” +</p> + +<p> +“You promised me something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, my God!” said the young man, who in spite of his self-command felt his +knees tremble and the sweat start from his brow. +</p> + +<p> +“You promised to bring a knife, and to leave it with me after our interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more of that, madame,” said Felton. “There is no situation, however +terrible it may be, which can authorize a creature of God to inflict death upon +himself. I have reflected, and I cannot, must not be guilty of such a sin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you have reflected!” said the prisoner, sitting down in her armchair, with +a smile of disdain; “and I also have reflected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon what?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I can have nothing to say to a man who does not keep his word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” murmured Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“You may retire,” said Milady. “I will not talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the knife,” said Felton, drawing from his pocket the weapon which he +had brought, according to his promise, but which he hesitated to give to his +prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see it,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“For what purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my honor, I will instantly return it to you. You shall place it on that +table, and you may remain between it and me.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton offered the weapon to Milady, who examined the temper of it attentively, +and who tried the point on the tip of her finger. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said she, returning the knife to the young officer, “this is fine and +good steel. You are a faithful friend, Felton.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton took back the weapon, and laid it upon the table, as he had agreed with +the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Milady followed him with her eyes, and made a gesture of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said she, “listen to me.” +</p> + +<p> +The request was needless. The young officer stood upright before her, awaiting +her words as if to devour them. +</p> + +<p> +“Felton,” said Milady, with a solemnity full of melancholy, “imagine that your +sister, the daughter of your father, speaks to you. While yet young, +unfortunately handsome, I was dragged into a snare. I resisted. Ambushes and +violences multiplied around me, but I resisted. The religion I serve, the God I +adore, were blasphemed because I called upon that religion and that God, but +still I resisted. Then outrages were heaped upon me, and as my soul was not +subdued they wished to defile my body forever. Finally—” +</p> + +<p> +Milady stopped, and a bitter smile passed over her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Finally,” said Felton, “finally, what did they do?” +</p> + +<p> +“At length, one evening my enemy resolved to paralyze the resistance he could +not conquer. One evening he mixed a powerful narcotic with my water. Scarcely +had I finished my repast, when I felt myself sink by degrees into a strange +torpor. Although I was without mistrust, a vague fear seized me, and I tried to +struggle against sleepiness. I arose. I wished to run to the window and call +for help, but my legs refused their office. It appeared as if the ceiling sank +upon my head and crushed me with its weight. I stretched out my arms. I tried +to speak. I could only utter inarticulate sounds, and irresistible faintness +came over me. I supported myself by a chair, feeling that I was about to fall, +but this support was soon insufficient on account of my weak arms. I fell upon +one knee, then upon both. I tried to pray, but my tongue was frozen. God +doubtless neither heard nor saw me, and I sank upon the floor a prey to a +slumber which resembled death. +</p> + +<p> +“Of all that passed in that sleep, or the time which glided away while it +lasted, I have no remembrance. The only thing I recollect is that I awoke in +bed in a round chamber, the furniture of which was sumptuous, and into which +light only penetrated by an opening in the ceiling. No door gave entrance to +the room. It might be called a magnificent prison. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a long time before I was able to make out what place I was in, or to +take account of the details I describe. My mind appeared to strive in vain to +shake off the heavy darkness of the sleep from which I could not rouse myself. +I had vague perceptions of space traversed, of the rolling of a carriage, of a +horrible dream in which my strength had become exhausted; but all this was so +dark and so indistinct in my mind that these events seemed to belong to another +life than mine, and yet mixed with mine in fantastic duality. +</p> + +<p> +“At times the state into which I had fallen appeared so strange that I believed +myself dreaming. I arose trembling. My clothes were near me on a chair; I +neither remembered having undressed myself nor going to bed. Then by degrees +the reality broke upon me, full of chaste terrors. I was no longer in the house +where I had dwelt. As well as I could judge by the light of the sun, the day +was already two-thirds gone. It was the evening before when I had fallen +asleep; my sleep, then, must have lasted twenty-four hours! What had taken +place during this long sleep? +</p> + +<p> +“I dressed myself as quickly as possible; my slow and stiff motions all +attested that the effects of the narcotic were not yet entirely dissipated. The +chamber was evidently furnished for the reception of a woman; and the most +finished coquette could not have formed a wish, but on casting her eyes about +the apartment, she would have found that wish accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I was not the first captive that had been shut up in this splendid +prison; but you may easily comprehend, Felton, that the more superb the prison, +the greater was my terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was a prison, for I tried in vain to get out of it. I sounded all the +walls, in the hopes of discovering a door, but everywhere the walls returned a +full and flat sound. +</p> + +<p> +“I made the tour of the room at least twenty times, in search of an outlet of +some kind; but there was none. I sank exhausted with fatigue and terror into an +armchair. +</p> + +<p> +“Meantime, night came on rapidly, and with night my terrors increased. I did +not know but I had better remain where I was seated. It appeared that I was +surrounded with unknown dangers into which I was about to fall at every +instant. Although I had eaten nothing since the evening before, my fears +prevented my feeling hunger. +</p> + +<p> +“No noise from without by which I could measure the time reached me; I only +supposed it must be seven or eight o’clock in the evening, for it was in the +month of October and it was quite dark. +</p> + +<p> +“All at once the noise of a door, turning on its hinges, made me start. A globe +of fire appeared above the glazed opening of the ceiling, casting a strong +light into my chamber; and I perceived with terror that a man was standing +within a few paces of me. +</p> + +<p> +“A table, with two covers, bearing a supper ready prepared, stood, as if by +magic, in the middle of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“That man was he who had pursued me during a whole year, who had vowed my +dishonor, and who, by the first words that issued from his mouth, gave me to +understand he had accomplished it the preceding night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Scoundrel!” murmured Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, scoundrel!” cried Milady, seeing the interest which the young +officer, whose soul seemed to hang on her lips, took in this strange recital. +“Oh, yes, scoundrel! He believed, having triumphed over me in my sleep, that +all was completed. He came, hoping that I would accept my shame, as my shame +was consummated; he came to offer his fortune in exchange for my love. +</p> + +<p> +“All that the heart of a woman could contain of haughty contempt and disdainful +words, I poured out upon this man. Doubtless he was accustomed to such +reproaches, for he listened to me calm and smiling, with his arms crossed over +his breast. Then, when he thought I had said all, he advanced toward me; I +sprang toward the table, I seized a knife, I placed it to my breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Take one step more,” said I, “and in addition to my dishonor, you shall have +my death to reproach yourself with.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was, no doubt, in my look, my voice, my whole person, that sincerity of +gesture, of attitude, of accent, which carries conviction to the most perverse +minds, for he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Your death?’ said he; ‘oh, no, you are too charming a mistress to allow me to +consent to lose you thus, after I have had the happiness to possess you only a +single time. Adieu, my charmer; I will wait to pay you my next visit till you +are in a better humor.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At these words he blew a whistle; the globe of fire which lighted the room +reascended and disappeared. I found myself again in complete darkness. The same +noise of a door opening and shutting was repeated the instant afterward; the +flaming globe descended afresh, and I was completely alone. +</p> + +<p> +“This moment was frightful; if I had any doubts as to my misfortune, these +doubts had vanished in an overwhelming reality. I was in the power of a man +whom I not only detested, but despised—of a man capable of anything, and +who had already given me a fatal proof of what he was able to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who, then, was this man?” asked Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“I passed the night on a chair, starting at the least noise, for toward +midnight the lamp went out, and I was again in darkness. But the night passed +away without any fresh attempt on the part of my persecutor. Day came; the +table had disappeared, only I had still the knife in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +“This knife was my only hope. +</p> + +<p> +“I was worn out with fatigue. Sleeplessness inflamed my eyes; I had not dared +to sleep a single instant. The light of day reassured me; I went and threw +myself on the bed, without parting with the emancipating knife, which I +concealed under my pillow. +</p> + +<p> +“When I awoke, a fresh meal was served. +</p> + +<p> +“This time, in spite of my terrors, in spite of my agony, I began to feel a +devouring hunger. It was forty-eight hours since I had taken any nourishment. I +ate some bread and some fruit; then, remembering the narcotic mixed with the +water I had drunk, I would not touch that which was placed on the table, but +filled my glass at a marble fountain fixed in the wall over my dressing table. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, notwithstanding these precautions, I remained for some time in a +terrible agitation of mind. But my fears were this time ill-founded; I passed +the day without experiencing anything of the kind I dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +“I took the precaution to half empty the <i>carafe</i>, in order that my +suspicions might not be noticed. +</p> + +<p> +“The evening came on, and with it darkness; but however profound was this +darkness, my eyes began to accustom themselves to it. I saw, amid the shadows, +the table sink through the floor; a quarter of an hour later it reappeared, +bearing my supper. In an instant, thanks to the lamp, my chamber was once more +lighted. +</p> + +<p> +“I was determined to eat only such things as could not possibly have anything +soporific introduced into them. Two eggs and some fruit composed my repast; +then I drew another glass of water from my protecting fountain, and drank it. +</p> + +<p> +“At the first swallow, it appeared to me not to have the same taste as in the +morning. Suspicion instantly seized me. I paused, but I had already drunk half +a glass. +</p> + +<p> +“I threw the rest away with horror, and waited, with the dew of fear upon my +brow. +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt some invisible witness had seen me draw the water from that fountain, +and had taken advantage of my confidence in it, the better to assure my ruin, +so coolly resolved upon, so cruelly pursued. +</p> + +<p> +“Half an hour had not passed when the same symptoms began to appear; but as I +had only drunk half a glass of the water, I contended longer, and instead of +falling entirely asleep, I sank into a state of drowsiness which left me a +perception of what was passing around me, while depriving me of the strength +either to defend myself or to fly. +</p> + +<p> +“I dragged myself toward the bed, to seek the only defense I had left—my +saving knife; but I could not reach the bolster. I sank on my knees, my hands +clasped round one of the bedposts; then I felt that I was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton became frightfully pale, and a convulsive tremor crept through his whole +body. +</p> + +<p> +“And what was most frightful,” continued Milady, her voice altered, as if she +still experienced the same agony as at that awful minute, “was that at this +time I retained a consciousness of the danger that threatened me; was that my +soul, if I may say so, waked in my sleeping body; was that I saw, that I heard. +It is true that all was like a dream, but it was not the less frightful. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the lamp ascend, and leave me in darkness; then I heard the well-known +creaking of the door although I had heard that door open but twice. +</p> + +<p> +“I felt instinctively that someone approached me; it is said that the doomed +wretch in the deserts of America thus feels the approach of the serpent. +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to make an effort; I attempted to cry out. By an incredible effort of +will I even raised myself up, but only to sink down again immediately, and to +fall into the arms of my persecutor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me who this man was!” cried the young officer. +</p> + +<p> +Milady saw at a single glance all the painful feelings she inspired in Felton +by dwelling on every detail of her recital; but she would not spare him a +single pang. The more profoundly she wounded his heart, the more certainly he +would avenge her. She continued, then, as if she had not heard his exclamation, +or as if she thought the moment was not yet come to reply to it. +</p> + +<p> +“Only this time it was no longer an inert body, without feeling, that the +villain had to deal with. I have told you that without being able to regain the +complete exercise of my faculties, I retained the sense of my danger. I +struggled, then, with all my strength, and doubtless opposed, weak as I was, a +long resistance, for I heard him cry out, ‘These miserable Puritans! I knew +very well that they tired out their executioners, but I did not believe them so +strong against their lovers!’ +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! this desperate resistance could not last long. I felt my strength fail, +and this time it was not my sleep that enabled the coward to prevail, but my +swoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton listened without uttering any word or sound, except an inward expression +of agony. The sweat streamed down his marble forehead, and his hand, under his +coat, tore his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“My first impulse, on coming to myself, was to feel under my pillow for the +knife I had not been able to reach; if it had not been useful for defense, it +might at least serve for expiation. +</p> + +<p> +“But on taking this knife, Felton, a terrible idea occurred to me. I have sworn +to tell you all, and I will tell you all. I have promised you the truth; I will +tell it, were it to destroy me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The idea came into your mind to avenge yourself on this man, did it not?” +cried Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Milady. “The idea was not that of a Christian, I knew; but without +doubt, that eternal enemy of our souls, that lion roaring constantly around us, +breathed it into my mind. In short, what shall I say to you, Felton?” continued +Milady, in the tone of a woman accusing herself of a crime. “This idea occurred +to me, and did not leave me; it is of this homicidal thought that I now bear +the punishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Continue, continue!” said Felton; “I am eager to see you attain your +vengeance!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I resolved that it should take place as soon as possible. I had no doubt +he would return the following night. During the day I had nothing to fear. +</p> + +<p> +“When the hour of breakfast came, therefore, I did not hesitate to eat and +drink. I had determined to make believe sup, but to eat nothing. I was forced, +then, to combat the fast of the evening with the nourishment of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Only I concealed a glass of water, which remained after my breakfast, thirst +having been the chief of my sufferings when I remained forty-eight hours +without eating or drinking. +</p> + +<p> +“The day passed away without having any other influence on me than to +strengthen the resolution I had formed; only I took care that my face should +not betray the thoughts of my heart, for I had no doubt I was watched. Several +times, even, I felt a smile on my lips. Felton, I dare not tell you at what +idea I smiled; you would hold me in horror—” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on! go on!” said Felton; “you see plainly that I listen, and that I am +anxious to know the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Evening came; the ordinary events took place. During the darkness, as before, +my supper was brought. Then the lamp was lighted, and I sat down to table. I +only ate some fruit. I pretended to pour out water from the jug, but I only +drank that which I had saved in my glass. The substitution was made so +carefully that my spies, if I had any, could have no suspicion of it. +</p> + +<p> +“After supper I exhibited the same marks of languor as on the preceding +evening; but this time, as I yielded to fatigue, or as if I had become +familiarized with danger, I dragged myself toward my bed, let my robe fall, and +lay down. +</p> + +<p> +“I found my knife where I had placed it, under my pillow, and while feigning to +sleep, my hand grasped the handle of it convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“Two hours passed away without anything fresh happening. Oh, my God! who could +have said so the evening before? I began to fear that he would not come. +</p> + +<p> +“At length I saw the lamp rise softly, and disappear in the depths of the +ceiling; my chamber was filled with darkness and obscurity, but I made a strong +effort to penetrate this darkness and obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly ten minutes passed; I heard no other noise but the beating of my own +heart. I implored heaven that he might come. +</p> + +<p> +“At length I heard the well-known noise of the door, which opened and shut; I +heard, notwithstanding the thickness of the carpet, a step which made the floor +creak; I saw, notwithstanding the darkness, a shadow which approached my bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haste! haste!” said Felton; “do you not see that each of your words burns me +like molten lead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued Milady, “then I collected all my strength; I recalled to my +mind that the moment of vengeance, or rather, of justice, had struck. I looked +upon myself as another Judith; I gathered myself up, my knife in my hand, and +when I saw him near me, stretching out his arms to find his victim, then, with +the last cry of agony and despair, I struck him in the middle of his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“The miserable villain! He had foreseen all. His breast was covered with a +coat-of-mail; the knife was bent against it. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, ah!’ cried he, seizing my arm, and wresting from me the weapon that had +so badly served me, ‘you want to take my life, do you, my pretty Puritan? But +that’s more than dislike, that’s ingratitude! Come, come, calm yourself, my +sweet girl! I thought you had softened. I am not one of those tyrants who +detain women by force. You don’t love me. With my usual fatuity I doubted it; +now I am convinced. Tomorrow you shall be free.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I had but one wish; that was that he should kill me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Beware!’ said I, ‘for my liberty is your dishonor.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Explain yourself, my pretty sibyl!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes; for as soon as I leave this place I will tell everything. I will +proclaim the violence you have used toward me. I will describe my captivity. I +will denounce this place of infamy. You are placed on high, my Lord, but +tremble! Above you there is the king; above the king there is God!’ +</p> + +<p> +“However perfect master he was over himself, my persecutor allowed a movement +of anger to escape him. I could not see the expression of his countenance, but +I felt the arm tremble upon which my hand was placed. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then you shall not leave this place,’ said he. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Very well,’ cried I, ‘then the place of my punishment will be that of my +tomb. I will die here, and you will see if a phantom that accuses is not more +terrible than a living being that threatens!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You shall have no weapon left in your power.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘There is a weapon which despair has placed within the reach of every creature +who has the courage to use it. I will allow myself to die with hunger.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Come,’ said the wretch, ‘is not peace much better than such a war as that? I +will restore you to liberty this moment; I will proclaim you a piece of +immaculate virtue; I will name you the Lucretia of England.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And I will say that you are the Sextus. I will denounce you before men, as I +have denounced you before God; and if it be necessary that, like Lucretia, I +should sign my accusation with my blood, I will sign it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah!’ said my enemy, in a jeering tone, ‘that’s quite another thing. My faith! +everything considered, you are very well off here. You shall want for nothing, +and if you let yourself die of hunger that will be your own fault.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At these words he retired. I heard the door open and shut, and I remained +overwhelmed, less, I confess it, by my grief than by the mortification of not +having avenged myself. +</p> + +<p> +“He kept his word. All the day, all the next night passed away without my +seeing him again. But I also kept my word with him, and I neither ate nor +drank. I was, as I told him, resolved to die of hunger. +</p> + +<p> +“I passed the day and the night in prayer, for I hoped that God would pardon me +my suicide. +</p> + +<p> +“The second night the door opened; I was lying on the floor, for my strength +began to abandon me. +</p> + +<p> +“At the noise I raised myself up on one hand. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well,’ said a voice which vibrated in too terrible a manner in my ear not to +be recognized, ‘well! Are we softened a little? Will we not pay for our liberty +with a single promise of silence? Come, I am a good sort of a prince,’ added +he, ‘and although I like not Puritans I do them justice; and it is the same +with Puritanesses, when they are pretty. Come, take a little oath for me on the +cross; I won’t ask anything more of you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘On the cross,’ cried I, rising, for at that abhorred voice I had recovered +all my strength, ‘on the cross I swear that no promise, no menace, no force, no +torture, shall close my mouth! On the cross I swear to denounce you everywhere +as a murderer, as a thief of honor, as a base coward! On the cross I swear, if +I ever leave this place, to call down vengeance upon you from the whole human +race!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Beware!’ said the voice, in a threatening accent that I had never yet heard. +‘I have an extraordinary means which I will not employ but in the last +extremity to close your mouth, or at least to prevent anyone from believing a +word you may utter.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I mustered all my strength to reply to him with a burst of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“He saw that it was a merciless war between us—a war to the death. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Listen!’ said he. ‘I give you the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow. +Reflect: promise to be silent, and riches, consideration, even honor, shall +surround you; threaten to speak, and I will condemn you to infamy.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You?’ cried I. ‘You?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘To interminable, ineffaceable infamy!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You?’ repeated I. Oh, I declare to you, Felton, I thought him mad! +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, yes, I!’ replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, leave me!’ said I. ‘Begone, if you do not desire to see me dash my head +against that wall before your eyes!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Very well, it is your own doing. Till tomorrow evening, then!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Till tomorrow evening, then!’ replied I, allowing myself to fall, and biting +the carpet with rage.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton leaned for support upon a piece of furniture; and Milady saw, with the +joy of a demon, that his strength would fail him perhaps before the end of her +recital. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap57"></a>Chapter LVII.<br/> +MEANS FOR CLASSICAL TRAGEDY</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">fter</span> a moment of silence employed by Milady in +observing the young man who listened to her, Milady continued her recital. +</p> + +<p> +“It was nearly three days since I had eaten or drunk anything. I suffered +frightful torments. At times there passed before me clouds which pressed my +brow, which veiled my eyes; this was delirium. +</p> + +<p> +“When the evening came I was so weak that every time I fainted I thanked God, +for I thought I was about to die. +</p> + +<p> +“In the midst of one of these swoons I heard the door open. Terror recalled me +to myself. +</p> + +<p> +“He entered the apartment followed by a man in a mask. He was masked likewise; +but I knew his step, I knew his voice, I knew him by that imposing bearing +which hell has bestowed upon his person for the curse of humanity. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well,’ said he to me, ‘have you made your mind up to take the oath I +requested of you?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You have said Puritans have but one word. Mine you have heard, and that is to +pursue you—on earth to the tribunal of men, in heaven to the tribunal of +God.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You persist, then?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I swear it before the God who hears me. I will take the whole world as a +witness of your crime, and that until I have found an avenger.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You are a prostitute,’ said he, in a voice of thunder, ‘and you shall undergo +the punishment of prostitutes! Branded in the eyes of the world you invoke, try +to prove to that world that you are neither guilty nor mad!’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then, addressing the man who accompanied him, ‘Executioner,’ said he, ‘do your +duty.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, his name, his name!” cried Felton. “His name, tell it me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then in spite of my cries, in spite of my resistance—for I began to +comprehend that there was a question of something worse than death—the +executioner seized me, threw me on the floor, fastened me with his bonds, and +suffocated by sobs, almost without sense, invoking God, who did not listen to +me, I uttered all at once a frightful cry of pain and shame. A burning fire, a +red-hot iron, the iron of the executioner, was imprinted on my shoulder.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton uttered a groan. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said Milady, rising with the majesty of a queen, “here, Felton, behold +the new martyrdom invented for a pure young girl, the victim of the brutality +of a villain. Learn to know the heart of men, and henceforth make yourself less +easily the instrument of their unjust vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady, with a rapid gesture, opened her robe, tore the cambric that covered +her bosom, and red with feigned anger and simulated shame, showed the young man +the ineffaceable impression which dishonored that beautiful shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” cried Felton, “that is a <i>fleur-de-lis</i> which I see there.” +</p> + +<p> +“And therein consisted the infamy,” replied Milady. “The brand of +England!—it would be necessary to prove what tribunal had imposed it on +me, and I could have made a public appeal to all the tribunals of the kingdom; +but the brand of France!—oh, by that, by <i>that</i> I was branded +indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +This was too much for Felton. +</p> + +<p> +Pale, motionless, overwhelmed by this frightful revelation, dazzled by the +superhuman beauty of this woman who unveiled herself before him with an +immodesty which appeared to him sublime, he ended by falling on his knees +before her as the early Christians did before those pure and holy martyrs whom +the persecution of the emperors gave up in the circus to the sanguinary +sensuality of the populace. The brand disappeared; the beauty alone remained. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon! Pardon!” cried Felton, “oh, pardon!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady read in his eyes <i>love! love!</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon for what?” asked she. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me for having joined with your persecutors.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady held out her hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +“So beautiful! so young!” cried Felton, covering that hand with his kisses. +</p> + +<p> +Milady let one of those looks fall upon him which make a slave of a king. +</p> + +<p> +Felton was a Puritan; he abandoned the hand of this woman to kiss her feet. +</p> + +<p> +He no longer loved her; he adored her. +</p> + +<p> +When this crisis was past, when Milady appeared to have resumed her +self-possession, which she had never lost; when Felton had seen her recover +with the veil of chastity those treasures of love which were only concealed +from him to make him desire them the more ardently, he said, “Ah, now! I have +only one thing to ask of you; that is, the name of your true executioner. For +to me there is but one; the other was an instrument, that was all.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, brother!” cried Milady, “must I name him again? Have you not yet divined +who he is?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” cried Felton, “he—again he—always he? What—the truly +guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +“The truly guilty,” said Milady, “is the ravager of England, the persecutor of +true believers, the base ravisher of the honor of so many women—he who, +to satisfy a caprice of his corrupt heart, is about to make England shed so +much blood, who protects the Protestants today and will betray them +tomorrow—” +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham! It is, then, Buckingham!” cried Felton, in a high state of +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +Milady concealed her face in her hands, as if she could not endure the shame +which this name recalled to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham, the executioner of this angelic creature!” cried Felton. “And thou +hast not hurled thy thunder at him, my God! And thou hast left him noble, +honored, powerful, for the ruin of us all!” +</p> + +<p> +“God abandons him who abandons himself,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“But he will draw upon his head the punishment reserved for the damned!” said +Felton, with increasing exultation. “He wills that human vengeance should +precede celestial justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Men fear him and spare him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I,” said Felton, “I do not fear him, nor will I spare him.” +</p> + +<p> +The soul of Milady was bathed in an infernal joy. +</p> + +<p> +“But how can Lord de Winter, my protector, my father,” asked Felton, “possibly +be mixed up with all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Felton,” resumed Milady, “for by the side of base and contemptible men +there are often found great and generous natures. I had an affianced husband, a +man whom I loved, and who loved me—a heart like yours, Felton, a man like +you. I went to him and told him all; he knew me, that man did, and did not +doubt an instant. He was a nobleman, a man equal to Buckingham in every +respect. He said nothing; he only girded on his sword, wrapped himself in his +cloak, and went straight to Buckingham Palace. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Felton; “I understand how he would act. But with such men it +is not the sword that should be employed; it is the poniard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham had left England the day before, sent as ambassador to Spain, to +demand the hand of the Infanta for King Charles I., who was then only Prince of +Wales. My affianced husband returned. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hear me,’ said he; ‘this man has gone, and for the moment has consequently +escaped my vengeance; but let us be united, as we were to have been, and then +leave it to Lord de Winter to maintain his own honor and that of his wife.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord de Winter!” cried Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Milady, “Lord de Winter; and now you can understand it all, can you +not? Buckingham remained nearly a year absent. A week before his return Lord de +Winter died, leaving me his sole heir. Whence came the blow? God who knows all, +knows without doubt; but as for me, I accuse nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what an abyss; what an abyss!” cried Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord de Winter died without revealing anything to his brother. The terrible +secret was to be concealed till it burst, like a clap of thunder, over the head +of the guilty. Your protector had seen with pain this marriage of his elder +brother with a portionless girl. I was sensible that I could look for no +support from a man disappointed in his hopes of an inheritance. I went to +France, with a determination to remain there for the rest of my life. But all +my fortune is in England. Communication being closed by the war, I was in want +of everything. I was then obliged to come back again. Six days ago, I landed at +Portsmouth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Well; Buckingham heard by some means, no doubt, of my return. He spoke of me +to Lord de Winter, already prejudiced against me, and told him that his +sister-in-law was a prostitute, a branded woman. The noble and pure voice of my +husband was no longer here to defend me. Lord de Winter believed all that was +told him with so much the more ease that it was his interest to believe it. He +caused me to be arrested, had me conducted hither, and placed me under your +guard. You know the rest. The day after tomorrow he banishes me, he transports +me; the day after tomorrow he exiles me among the infamous. Oh, the train is +well laid; the plot is clever. My honor will not survive it! You see, then, +Felton, I can do nothing but die. Felton, give me that knife!” +</p> + +<p> +And at these words, as if all her strength was exhausted, Milady sank, weak and +languishing, into the arms of the young officer, who, intoxicated with love, +anger, and voluptuous sensations hitherto unknown, received her with transport, +pressed her against his heart, all trembling at the breath from that charming +mouth, bewildered by the contact with that palpitating bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said he. “No, you shall live honored and pure; you shall live to +triumph over your enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady put him from her slowly with her hand, while drawing him nearer with her +look; but Felton, in his turn, embraced her more closely, imploring her like a +divinity. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, death, death!” said she, lowering her voice and her eyelids, “oh, death, +rather than shame! Felton, my brother, my friend, I conjure you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” cried Felton, “no; you shall live and you shall be avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Felton, I bring misfortune to all who surround me! Felton, abandon me! Felton, +let me die!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, we will live and die together!” cried he, pressing his lips to +those of the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Several strokes resounded on the door; this time Milady really pushed him away +from her. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark,” said she, “we have been overheard! Someone is coming! All is over! We +are lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Felton; it is only the sentinel warning me that they are about to +change the guard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then run to the door, and open it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton obeyed; this woman was now his whole thought, his whole soul. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself face to face with a sergeant commanding a watch-patrol. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is the matter?” asked the young lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me to open the door if I heard anyone cry out,” said the soldier; +“but you forgot to leave me the key. I heard you cry out, without understanding +what you said. I tried to open the door, but it was locked inside; then I +called the sergeant.” +</p> + +<p> +“And here I am,” said the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +Felton, quite bewildered, almost mad, stood speechless. +</p> + +<p> +Milady plainly perceived that it was now her turn to take part in the scene. +She ran to the table, and seizing the knife which Felton had laid down, +exclaimed, “And by what right will you prevent me from dying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Great God!” exclaimed Felton, on seeing the knife glitter in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a burst of ironical laughter resounded through the corridor. The +baron, attracted by the noise, in his chamber gown, his sword under his arm, +stood in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said he, “here we are, at the last act of the tragedy. You see, Felton, +the drama has gone through all the phases I named; but be easy, no blood will +flow.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady perceived that all was lost unless she gave Felton an immediate and +terrible proof of her courage. +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, my Lord, blood will flow; and may that blood fall back on +those who cause it to flow!” +</p> + +<p> +Felton uttered a cry, and rushed toward her. He was too late; Milady had +stabbed herself. +</p> + +<p> +But the knife had fortunately, we ought to say skillfully, come in contact with +the steel busk, which at that period, like a cuirass, defended the chests of +women. It had glided down it, tearing the robe, and had penetrated slantingly +between the flesh and the ribs. Milady’s robe was not the less stained with +blood in a second. +</p> + +<p> +Milady fell down, and seemed to be in a swoon. +</p> + +<p> +Felton snatched away the knife. +</p> + +<p> +“See, my Lord,” said he, in a deep, gloomy tone, “here is a woman who was under +my guard, and who has killed herself!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be at ease, Felton,” said Lord de Winter. “She is not dead; demons do not die +so easily. Be tranquil, and go wait for me in my chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my Lord—” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, sir, I command you!” +</p> + +<p> +At this injunction from his superior, Felton obeyed; but in going out, he put +the knife into his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +As to Lord de Winter, he contented himself with calling the woman who waited on +Milady, and when she was come, he recommended the prisoner, who was still +fainting, to her care, and left them alone. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, all things considered and notwithstanding his suspicions, as the +wound might be serious, he immediately sent off a mounted man to find a +physician. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap58"></a>Chapter LVIII.<br/> +ESCAPE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">s</span> Lord de Winter had thought, Milady’s wound was not +dangerous. So soon as she was left alone with the woman whom the baron had +summoned to her assistance she opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was, however, necessary to affect weakness and pain—not a very +difficult task for so finished an actress as Milady. Thus the poor woman was +completely the dupe of the prisoner, whom, notwithstanding her hints, she +persisted in watching all night. +</p> + +<p> +But the presence of this woman did not prevent Milady from thinking. +</p> + +<p> +There was no longer a doubt that Felton was convinced; Felton was hers. If an +angel appeared to that young man as an accuser of Milady, he would take him, in +the mental disposition in which he now found himself, for a messenger sent by +the devil. +</p> + +<p> +Milady smiled at this thought, for Felton was now her only hope—her only +means of safety. +</p> + +<p> +But Lord de Winter might suspect him; Felton himself might now be watched! +</p> + +<p> +Toward four o’clock in the morning the doctor arrived; but since the time +Milady stabbed herself, however short, the wound had closed. The doctor could +therefore measure neither the direction nor the depth of it; he only satisfied +himself by Milady’s pulse that the case was not serious. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning Milady, under the pretext that she had not slept well in the +night and wanted rest, sent away the woman who attended her. +</p> + +<p> +She had one hope, which was that Felton would appear at the breakfast hour; but +Felton did not come. +</p> + +<p> +Were her fears realized? Was Felton, suspected by the baron, about to fail her +at the decisive moment? She had only one day left. Lord de Winter had announced +her embarkation for the twenty-third, and it was now the morning of the +twenty-second. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless she still waited patiently till the hour for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Although she had eaten nothing in the morning, the dinner was brought in at its +usual time. Milady then perceived, with terror, that the uniform of the +soldiers who guarded her was changed. +</p> + +<p> +Then she ventured to ask what had become of Felton. +</p> + +<p> +She was told that he had left the castle an hour before on horseback. She +inquired if the baron was still at the castle. The soldier replied that he was, +and that he had given orders to be informed if the prisoner wished to speak to +him. +</p> + +<p> +Milady replied that she was too weak at present, and that her only desire was +to be left alone. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier went out, leaving the dinner served. +</p> + +<p> +Felton was sent away. The marines were removed. Felton was then mistrusted. +</p> + +<p> +This was the last blow to the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, she arose. The bed, which she had kept from prudence and that they +might believe her seriously wounded, burned her like a bed of fire. She cast a +glance at the door; the baron had had a plank nailed over the grating. He no +doubt feared that by this opening she might still by some diabolical means +corrupt her guards. +</p> + +<p> +Milady smiled with joy. She was free now to give way to her transports without +being observed. She traversed her chamber with the excitement of a furious +maniac or of a tigress shut up in an iron cage. <i>Certes</i>, if the knife had +been left in her power, she would now have thought, not of killing herself, but +of killing the baron. +</p> + +<p> +At six o’clock Lord de Winter came in. He was armed at all points. This man, in +whom Milady till that time had only seen a very simple gentleman, had become an +admirable jailer. He appeared to foresee all, to divine all, to anticipate all. +</p> + +<p> +A single look at Milady apprised him of all that was passing in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay!” said he, “I see; but you shall not kill me today. You have no longer a +weapon; and besides, I am on my guard. You had begun to pervert my poor Felton. +He was yielding to your infernal influence; but I will save him. He will never +see you again; all is over. Get your clothes together. Tomorrow you will go. I +had fixed the embarkation for the twenty-fourth; but I have reflected that the +more promptly the affair takes place the more sure it will be. Tomorrow, by +twelve o’clock, I shall have the order for your exile, signed, +<i>Buckingham</i>. If you speak a single word to anyone before going aboard +ship, my sergeant will blow your brains out. He has orders to do so. If when on +the ship you speak a single word to anyone before the captain permits you, the +captain will have you thrown into the sea. That is agreed upon. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Au revoir</i>, then; that is all I have to say today. Tomorrow I will see +you again, to take my leave.” With these words the baron went out. Milady had +listened to all this menacing tirade with a smile of disdain on her lips, but +rage in her heart. +</p> + +<p> +Supper was served. Milady felt that she stood in need of all her strength. She +did not know what might take place during this night which approached so +menacingly—for large masses of cloud rolled over the face of the sky, and +distant lightning announced a storm. +</p> + +<p> +The storm broke about ten o’clock. Milady felt a consolation in seeing nature +partake of the disorder of her heart. The thunder growled in the air like the +passion and anger in her thoughts. It appeared to her that the blast as it +swept along disheveled her brow, as it bowed the branches of the trees and bore +away their leaves. She howled as the hurricane howled; and her voice was lost +in the great voice of nature, which also seemed to groan with despair. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she heard a tap at her window, and by the help of a flash of +lightning she saw the face of a man appear behind the bars. +</p> + +<p> +She ran to the window and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Felton!” cried she. “I am saved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Felton; “but silence, silence! I must have time to file through +these bars. Only take care that I am not seen through the wicket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is a proof that the Lord is on our side, Felton,” replied Milady. “They +have closed up the grating with a board.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well; God has made them senseless,” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“But what must I do?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, nothing, only shut the window. Go to bed, or at least lie down in +your clothes. As soon as I have done I will knock on one of the panes of glass. +But will you be able to follow me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wound?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gives me pain, but will not prevent my walking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be ready, then, at the first signal.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady shut the window, extinguished the lamp, and went, as Felton had desired +her, to lie down on the bed. Amid the moaning of the storm she heard the +grinding of the file upon the bars, and by the light of every flash she +perceived the shadow of Felton through the panes. +</p> + +<p> +She passed an hour without breathing, panting, with a cold sweat upon her brow, +and her heart oppressed by frightful agony at every movement she heard in the +corridor. +</p> + +<p> +There are hours which last a year. +</p> + +<p> +At the expiration of an hour, Felton tapped again. +</p> + +<p> +Milady sprang out of bed and opened the window. Two bars removed formed an +opening for a man to pass through. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready?” asked Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Must I take anything with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Money, if you have any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; fortunately they have left me all I had.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better, for I have expended all mine in chartering a vessel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” said Milady, placing a bag full of louis in Felton’s hands. +</p> + +<p> +Felton took the bag and threw it to the foot of the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said he, “will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady mounted upon a chair and passed the upper part of her body through the +window. She saw the young officer suspended over the abyss by a ladder of +ropes. For the first time an emotion of terror reminded her that she was a +woman. +</p> + +<p> +The dark space frightened her. +</p> + +<p> +“I expected this,” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing, it’s nothing!” said Milady. “I will descend with my eyes shut.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you confidence in me?” said Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“You ask that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put your two hands together. Cross them; that’s right!” +</p> + +<p> +Felton tied her two wrists together with his handkerchief, and then with a cord +over the handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing?” asked Milady, with surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Pass your arms around my neck, and fear nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I shall make you lose your balance, and we shall both be dashed to +pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid. I am a sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +Not a second was to be lost. Milady passed her two arms round Felton’s neck, +and let herself slip out of the window. Felton began to descend the ladder +slowly, step by step. Despite the weight of two bodies, the blast of the +hurricane shook them in the air. +</p> + +<p> +All at once Felton stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence,” said Felton, “I hear footsteps.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are discovered!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence of several seconds. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Felton, “it is nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what, then, is the noise?” +</p> + +<p> +“That of the patrol going their rounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is their road?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just under us.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will discover us!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, if it does not lighten.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will run against the bottom of the ladder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately it is too short by six feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are! My God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” +</p> + +<p> +Both remained suspended, motionless and breathless, within twenty paces of the +ground, while the patrol passed beneath them laughing and talking. This was a +terrible moment for the fugitives. +</p> + +<p> +The patrol passed. The noise of their retreating footsteps and the murmur of +their voices soon died away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Felton, “we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady breathed a deep sigh and fainted. +</p> + +<p> +Felton continued to descend. Near the bottom of the ladder, when he found no +more support for his feet, he clung with his hands; at length, arrived at the +last step, he let himself hang by the strength of his wrists, and touched the +ground. He stooped down, picked up the bag of money, and placed it between his +teeth. Then he took Milady in his arms, and set off briskly in the direction +opposite to that which the patrol had taken. He soon left the pathway of the +patrol, descended across the rocks, and when arrived on the edge of the sea, +whistled. +</p> + +<p> +A similar signal replied to him; and five minutes after, a boat appeared, rowed +by four men. +</p> + +<p> +The boat approached as near as it could to the shore; but there was not depth +enough of water for it to touch land. Felton walked into the sea up to his +middle, being unwilling to trust his precious burden to anybody. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately the storm began to subside, but still the sea was disturbed. The +little boat bounded over the waves like a nut-shell. +</p> + +<p> +“To the sloop,” said Felton, “and row quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +The four men bent to their oars, but the sea was too high to let them get much +hold of it. +</p> + +<p> +However, they left the castle behind; that was the principal thing. The night +was extremely dark. It was almost impossible to see the shore from the boat; +they would therefore be less likely to see the boat from the shore. +</p> + +<p> +A black point floated on the sea. That was the sloop. While the boat was +advancing with all the speed its four rowers could give it, Felton untied the +cord and then the handkerchief which bound Milady’s hands together. When her +hands were loosed he took some sea water and sprinkled it over her face. +</p> + +<p> +Milady breathed a sigh, and opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Saved!” replied the young officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, saved, saved!” cried she. “Yes, there is the sky; here is the sea! The air +I breathe is the air of liberty! Ah, thanks, Felton, thanks!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man pressed her to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the matter with my hands!” asked Milady; “it seems as if my wrists +had been crushed in a vice.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady held out her arms; her wrists were bruised. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Felton, looking at those beautiful hands, and shaking his head +sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s nothing, nothing!” cried Milady. “I remember now.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady looked around her, as if in search of something. +</p> + +<p> +“It is there,” said Felton, touching the bag of money with his foot. +</p> + +<p> +They drew near to the sloop. A sailor on watch hailed the boat; the boat +replied. +</p> + +<p> +“What vessel is that?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“The one I have hired for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will it take me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where you please, after you have put me on shore at Portsmouth.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do at Portsmouth?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Accomplish the orders of Lord de Winter,” said Felton, with a gloomy smile. +</p> + +<p> +“What orders?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand?” asked Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“No; explain yourself, I beg.” +</p> + +<p> +“As he mistrusted me, he determined to guard you himself, and sent me in his +place to get Buckingham to sign the order for your transportation.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he mistrusted you, how could he confide such an order to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“How could I know what I was the bearer of?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true! And you are going to Portsmouth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no time to lose. Tomorrow is the twenty-third, and Buckingham sets sail +tomorrow with his fleet.” +</p> + +<p> +“He sets sail tomorrow! Where for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For La Rochelle.” +</p> + +<p> +“He need not sail!” cried Milady, forgetting her usual presence of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Be satisfied,” replied Felton; “he will not sail.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady started with joy. She could read to the depths of the heart of this +young man; the death of Buckingham was written there at full length. +</p> + +<p> +“Felton,” cried she, “you are as great as Judas Maccabeus! If you die, I will +die with you; that is all I can say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” cried Felton; “we are here.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, they touched the sloop. +</p> + +<p> +Felton mounted the ladder first, and gave his hand to Milady, while the sailors +supported her, for the sea was still much agitated. +</p> + +<p> +An instant after they were on the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain,” said Felton, “this is the person of whom I spoke to you, and whom +you must convey safe and sound to France.” +</p> + +<p> +“For a thousand pistoles,” said the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“I have paid you five hundred of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s correct,” said the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“And here are the other five hundred,” replied Milady, placing her hand upon +the bag of gold. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the captain, “I make but one bargain; and I have agreed with this +young man that the other five hundred shall not be due to me till we arrive at +Boulogne.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shall we arrive there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Safe and sound, as true as my name’s Jack Butler.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Milady, “if you keep your word, instead of five hundred, I will +give you a thousand pistoles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hurrah for you, then, my beautiful lady,” cried the captain; “and may God +often send me such passengers as your Ladyship!” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile,” said Felton, “convey me to the little bay of—; you know it +was agreed you should put in there.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain replied by ordering the necessary maneuvers, and toward seven +o’clock in the morning the little vessel cast anchor in the bay that had been +named. +</p> + +<p> +During this passage, Felton related everything to Milady—how, instead of +going to London, he had chartered the little vessel; how he had returned; how +he had scaled the wall by fastening cramps in the interstices of the stones, as +he ascended, to give him foothold; and how, when he had reached the bars, he +fastened his ladder. Milady knew the rest. +</p> + +<p> +On her side, Milady tried to encourage Felton in his project; but at the first +words which issued from her mouth, she plainly saw that the young fanatic stood +more in need of being moderated than urged. +</p> + +<p> +It was agreed that Milady should wait for Felton till ten o’clock; if he did +not return by ten o’clock she was to sail. +</p> + +<p> +In that case, and supposing he was at liberty, he was to rejoin her in France, +at the convent of the Carmelites at Béthune. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap59"></a>Chapter LIX.<br/> +WHAT TOOK PLACE AT PORTSMOUTH<br/> +AUGUST 23, 1628</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">F</span><span +class="dropspan">elton</span> took leave of Milady as a brother about to go for +a mere walk takes leave of his sister, kissing her hand. +</p> + +<p> +His whole body appeared in its ordinary state of calmness, only an unusual fire +beamed from his eyes, like the effects of a fever; his brow was more pale than +it generally was; his teeth were clenched, and his speech had a short dry +accent which indicated that something dark was at work within him. +</p> + +<p> +As long as he remained in the boat which conveyed him to land, he kept his face +toward Milady, who, standing on the deck, followed him with her eyes. Both were +free from the fear of pursuit; nobody ever came into Milady’s apartment before +nine o’clock, and it would require three hours to go from the castle to London. +</p> + +<p> +Felton jumped onshore, climbed the little ascent which led to the top of the +cliff, saluted Milady a last time, and took his course toward the city. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of a hundred paces, the ground began to decline, and he could only +see the mast of the sloop. +</p> + +<p> +He immediately ran in the direction of Portsmouth, which he saw at nearly half +a league before him, standing out in the haze of the morning, with its houses +and towers. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond Portsmouth the sea was covered with vessels whose masts, like a forest +of poplars despoiled by the winter, bent with each breath of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Felton, in his rapid walk, reviewed in his mind all the accusations against the +favorite of James I. and Charles I., furnished by two years of premature +meditation and a long sojourn among the Puritans. +</p> + +<p> +When he compared the public crimes of this minister—startling crimes, +European crimes, if so we may say—with the private and unknown crimes +with which Milady had charged him, Felton found that the more culpable of the +two men which formed the character of Buckingham was the one of whom the public +knew not the life. This was because his love, so strange, so new, and so +ardent, made him view the infamous and imaginary accusations of Milady de +Winter as, through a magnifying glass, one views as frightful monsters atoms in +reality imperceptible by the side of an ant. +</p> + +<p> +The rapidity of his walk heated his blood still more; the idea that he left +behind him, exposed to a frightful vengeance, the woman he loved, or rather +whom he adored as a saint, the emotion he had experienced, present +fatigue—all together exalted his mind above human feeling. +</p> + +<p> +He entered Portsmouth about eight o’clock in the morning. The whole population +was on foot; drums were beating in the streets and in the port; the troops +about to embark were marching toward the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Felton arrived at the palace of the Admiralty, covered with dust, and streaming +with perspiration. His countenance, usually so pale, was purple with heat and +passion. The sentinel wanted to repulse him; but Felton called to the officer +of the post, and drawing from his pocket the letter of which he was the bearer, +he said, “A pressing message from Lord de Winter.” +</p> + +<p> +At the name of Lord de Winter, who was known to be one of his Grace’s most +intimate friends, the officer of the post gave orders to let Felton pass, who, +besides, wore the uniform of a naval officer. +</p> + +<p> +Felton darted into the palace. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment he entered the vestibule, another man was entering likewise, +dusty, out of breath, leaving at the gate a post horse, which, on reaching the +palace, tumbled on his foreknees. +</p> + +<p> +Felton and he addressed Patrick, the duke’s confidential lackey, at the same +moment. Felton named Lord de Winter; the unknown would not name anybody, and +pretended that it was to the duke alone he would make himself known. Each was +anxious to gain admission before the other. +</p> + +<p> +Patrick, who knew Lord de Winter was in affairs of the service, and in +relations of friendship with the duke, gave the preference to the one who came +in his name. The other was forced to wait, and it was easily to be seen how he +cursed the delay. +</p> + +<p> +The valet led Felton through a large hall in which waited the deputies from La +Rochelle, headed by the Prince de Soubise, and introduced him into a closet +where Buckingham, just out of the bath, was finishing his toilet, upon which, +as at all times, he bestowed extraordinary attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Lieutenant Felton, from Lord de Winter,” said Patrick. +</p> + +<p> +“From Lord de Winter!” repeated Buckingham; “let him come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton entered. At that moment Buckingham was throwing upon a couch a rich +toilet robe, worked with gold, in order to put on a blue velvet doublet +embroidered with pearls. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t the baron come himself?” demanded Buckingham. “I expected him this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“He desired me to tell your Grace,” replied Felton, “that he very much +regretted not having that honor, but that he was prevented by the guard he is +obliged to keep at the castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know that,” said Buckingham; “he has a prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is of that prisoner that I wish to speak to your Grace,” replied Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“That which I have to say of her can only be heard by yourself, my Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave us, Patrick,” said Buckingham; “but remain within sound of the bell. I +shall call you presently.” +</p> + +<p> +Patrick went out. +</p> + +<p> +“We are alone, sir,” said Buckingham; “speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Felton, “the Baron de Winter wrote to you the other day to +request you to sign an order of embarkation relative to a young woman named +Charlotte Backson.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; and I answered him, to bring or send me that order and I would sign +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is, my Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it to me,” said the duke. +</p> + +<p> +And taking it from Felton, he cast a rapid glance over the paper, and +perceiving that it was the one that had been mentioned to him, he placed it on +the table, took a pen, and prepared to sign it. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my Lord,” said Felton, stopping the duke; “but does your Grace know +that the name of Charlotte Backson is not the true name of this young woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I know it,” replied the duke, dipping the quill in the ink. +</p> + +<p> +“Then your Grace knows her real name?” asked Felton, in a sharp tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it”; and the duke put the quill to the paper. Felton grew pale. +</p> + +<p> +“And knowing that real name, my Lord,” replied Felton, “will you sign it all +the same?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless,” said Buckingham, “and rather twice than once.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot believe,” continued Felton, in a voice that became more sharp and +rough, “that your Grace knows that it is to Milady de Winter this relates.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it perfectly, although I am astonished that you know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will your Grace sign that order without remorse?” +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham looked at the young man haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, sir, that you are asking me very strange questions, and that I am +very foolish to answer them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Reply to them, my Lord,” said Felton; “the circumstances are more serious than +you perhaps believe.” +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham reflected that the young man, coming from Lord de Winter, +undoubtedly spoke in his name, and softened. +</p> + +<p> +“Without remorse,” said he. “The baron knows, as well as myself, that Milady de +Winter is a very guilty woman, and it is treating her very favorably to commute +her punishment to transportation.” The duke put his pen to the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“You will not sign that order, my Lord!” said Felton, making a step toward the +duke. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not sign this order! And why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you will look into yourself, and you will do justice to the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should do her justice by sending her to Tyburn,” said Buckingham. “This lady +is infamous.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, Milady de Winter is an angel; you know that she is, and I demand her +liberty of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Are you mad, to talk to me thus?” said Buckingham. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, excuse me! I speak as I can; I restrain myself. But, my Lord, think +of what you’re about to do, and beware of going too far!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say? God pardon me!” cried Buckingham, “I really think he +threatens me!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my Lord, I still plead. And I say to you: one drop of water suffices to +make the full vase overflow; one slight fault may draw down punishment upon the +head spared, despite many crimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Felton,” said Buckingham, “you will withdraw, and place yourself at once +under arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will hear me to the end, my Lord. You have seduced this young girl; you +have outraged, defiled her. Repair your crimes toward her; let her go free, and +I will exact nothing else from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will exact!” said Buckingham, looking at Felton with astonishment, and +dwelling upon each syllable of the three words as he pronounced them. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” continued Felton, becoming more excited as he spoke, “my Lord, +beware! All England is tired of your iniquities; my Lord, you have abused the +royal power, which you have almost usurped; my Lord, you are held in horror by +God and men. God will punish you hereafter, but I will punish you here!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, this is too much!” cried Buckingham, making a step toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +Felton barred his passage. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask it humbly of you, my Lord,” said he; “sign the order for the liberation +of Milady de Winter. Remember that she is a woman whom you have dishonored.” +</p> + +<p> +“Withdraw, sir,” said Buckingham, “or I will call my attendant, and have you +placed in irons.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not call,” said Felton, throwing himself between the duke and the +bell placed on a stand encrusted with silver. “Beware, my Lord, you are in the +hands of God!” +</p> + +<p> +“In the hands of the devil, you mean!” cried Buckingham, raising his voice so +as to attract the notice of his people, without absolutely shouting. +</p> + +<p> +“Sign, my Lord; sign the liberation of Milady de Winter,” said Felton, holding +out a paper to the duke. +</p> + +<p> +“By force? You are joking! Holloa, Patrick!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sign, my Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never?” +</p> + +<p> +“Help!” shouted the duke; and at the same time he sprang toward his sword. +</p> + +<p> +But Felton did not give him time to draw it. He held the knife with which +Milady had stabbed herself, open in his bosom; at one bound he was upon the +duke. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Patrick entered the room, crying, “A letter from France, my +Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“From France!” cried Buckingham, forgetting everything in thinking from whom +that letter came. +</p> + +<p> +Felton took advantage of this moment, and plunged the knife into his side up to +the handle. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, traitor,” cried Buckingham, “you have killed me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Murder!” screamed Patrick. +</p> + +<p> +Felton cast his eyes round for means of escape, and seeing the door free, he +rushed into the next chamber, in which, as we have said, the deputies from La +Rochelle were waiting, crossed it as quickly as possible, and rushed toward the +staircase; but upon the first step he met Lord de Winter, who, seeing him pale, +confused, livid, and stained with blood both on his hands and face, seized him +by the throat, crying, “I knew it! I guessed it! But too late by a minute, +unfortunate, unfortunate that I am!” +</p> + +<p> +Felton made no resistance. Lord de Winter placed him in the hands of the +guards, who led him, while awaiting further orders, to a little terrace +commanding the sea; and then the baron hastened to the duke’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +At the cry uttered by the duke and the scream of Patrick, the man whom Felton +had met in the antechamber rushed into the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +He found the duke reclining upon a sofa, with his hand pressed upon the wound. +</p> + +<p> +“Laporte,” said the duke, in a dying voice, “Laporte, do you come from her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the faithful cloak bearer of Anne of Austria, “but +too late, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, Laporte, you may be overheard. Patrick, let no one enter. Oh, I +cannot tell what she says to me! My God, I am dying!” +</p> + +<p> +And the duke swooned. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Lord de Winter, the deputies, the leaders of the expedition, the +officers of Buckingham’s household, had all made their way into the chamber. +Cries of despair resounded on all sides. The news, which filled the palace with +tears and groans, soon became known, and spread itself throughout the city. +</p> + +<p> +The report of a cannon announced that something new and unexpected had taken +place. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter tore his hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Too late by a minute!” cried he, “too late by a minute! Oh, my God, my God! +what a misfortune!” +</p> + +<p> +He had been informed at seven o’clock in the morning that a rope ladder floated +from one of the windows of the castle; he had hastened to Milady’s chamber, had +found it empty, the window open, and the bars filed, had remembered the verbal +caution D’Artagnan had transmitted to him by his messenger, had trembled for +the duke, and running to the stable without taking time to have a horse +saddled, had jumped upon the first he found, had galloped off like the wind, +had alighted below in the courtyard, had ascended the stairs precipitately, and +on the top step, as we have said, had encountered Felton. +</p> + +<p> +The duke, however, was not dead. He recovered a little, reopened his eyes, and +hope revived in all hearts. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said he, “leave me alone with Patrick and Laporte—ah, is +that you, De Winter? You sent me a strange madman this morning! See the state +in which he has put me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my Lord!” cried the baron, “I shall never console myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would be quite wrong, my dear De Winter,” said Buckingham, holding out +his hand to him. “I do not know the man who deserves being regretted during the +whole life of another man; but leave us, I pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +The baron went out sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +There only remained in the closet of the wounded duke Laporte and Patrick. A +physician was sought for, but none was yet found. +</p> + +<p> +“You will live, my Lord, you will live!” repeated the faithful servant of Anne +of Austria, on his knees before the duke’s sofa. +</p> + +<p> +“What has she written to me?” said Buckingham, feebly, streaming with blood, +and suppressing his agony to speak of her he loved, “what has she written to +me? Read me her letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my Lord!” said Laporte. +</p> + +<p> +“Obey, Laporte, do you not see I have no time to lose?” +</p> + +<p> +Laporte broke the seal, and placed the paper before the eyes of the duke; but +Buckingham in vain tried to make out the writing. +</p> + +<p> +“Read!” said he, “read! I cannot see. Read, then! For soon, perhaps, I shall +not hear, and I shall die without knowing what she has written to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Laporte made no further objection, and read: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>Y</small> L<small>ORD</small>, By that which, since I have known you, +have suffered by you and for you, I conjure you, if you have any care for my +repose, to countermand those great armaments which you are preparing against +France, to put an end to a war of which it is publicly said religion is the +ostensible cause, and of which, it is generally whispered, your love for me is +the concealed cause. This war may not only bring great catastrophes upon +England and France, but misfortune upon you, my Lord, for which I should never +console myself.<br/> + “Be careful of your life, which is menaced, and which will be dear to me +from the moment I am not obliged to see an enemy in you. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your affectionate<br/> +“A<small>NNE</small>” +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham collected all his remaining strength to listen to the reading of the +letter; then, when it was ended, as if he had met with a bitter disappointment, +he asked, “Have you nothing else to say to me by the living voice, Laporte?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen charged me to tell you to watch over yourself, for she had advice +that your assassination would be attempted.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is that all—is that all?” replied Buckingham, impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“She likewise charged me to tell you that she still loved you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Buckingham, “God be praised! My death, then, will not be to her as +the death of a stranger!” +</p> + +<p> +Laporte burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Patrick,” said the duke, “bring me the casket in which the diamond studs were +kept.” +</p> + +<p> +Patrick brought the object desired, which Laporte recognized as having belonged +to the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the scent bag of white satin, on which her cipher is embroidered in +pearls.” +</p> + +<p> +Patrick again obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Laporte,” said Buckingham, “these are the only tokens I ever received +from her—this silver casket and these two letters. You will restore them +to her Majesty; and as a last memorial”—he looked round for some valuable +object—“you will add—” +</p> + +<p> +He still sought; but his eyes, darkened by death, encountered only the knife +which had fallen from the hand of Felton, still smoking with the blood spread +over its blade. +</p> + +<p> +“And you will add to them this knife,” said the duke, pressing the hand of +Laporte. He had just strength enough to place the scent bag at the bottom of +the silver casket, and to let the knife fall into it, making a sign to Laporte +that he was no longer able to speak; then, in a last convulsion, which this +time he had not the power to combat, he slipped from the sofa to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Patrick uttered a loud cry. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham tried to smile a last time; but death checked his thought, which +remained engraved on his brow like a last kiss of love. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the duke’s surgeon arrived, quite terrified; he was already on +board the admiral’s ship, where they had been obliged to seek him. +</p> + +<p> +He approached the duke, took his hand, held it for an instant in his own, and +letting it fall, “All is useless,” said he, “he is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead, dead!” cried Patrick. +</p> + +<p> +At this cry all the crowd re-entered the apartment, and throughout the palace +and town there was nothing but consternation and tumult. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Lord de Winter saw Buckingham was dead, he ran to Felton, whom the +soldiers still guarded on the terrace of the palace. +</p> + +<p> +“Wretch!” said he to the young man, who since the death of Buckingham had +regained that coolness and self-possession which never after abandoned him, +“wretch! what have you done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have avenged myself!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Avenged yourself,” said the baron. “Rather say that you have served as an +instrument to that accursed woman; but I swear to you that this crime shall be +her last.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Felton, quietly, “and I am ignorant of +whom you are speaking, my Lord. I killed the Duke of Buckingham because he +twice refused you yourself to appoint me captain; I have punished him for his +injustice, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +De Winter, stupefied, looked on while the soldiers bound Felton, and could not +tell what to think of such insensibility. +</p> + +<p> +One thing alone, however, threw a shade over the pallid brow of Felton. At +every noise he heard, the simple Puritan fancied he recognized the step and +voice of Milady coming to throw herself into his arms, to accuse herself, and +die with him. +</p> + +<p> +All at once he started. His eyes became fixed upon a point of the sea, +commanded by the terrace where he was. With the eagle glance of a sailor he had +recognized there, where another would have seen only a gull hovering over the +waves, the sail of a sloop which was directed toward the coast of France. +</p> + +<p> +He grew deadly pale, placed his hand upon his heart, which was breaking, and at +once perceived all the treachery. +</p> + +<p> +“One last favor, my Lord!” said he to the baron. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked his Lordship. +</p> + +<p> +“What o’clock is it?” +</p> + +<p> +The baron drew out his watch. “It wants ten minutes to nine,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Milady had hastened her departure by an hour and a half. As soon as she heard +the cannon which announced the fatal event, she had ordered the anchor to be +weighed. The vessel was making way under a blue sky, at great distance from the +coast. +</p> + +<p> +“God has so willed it!” said he, with the resignation of a fanatic; but +without, however, being able to take his eyes from that ship, on board of which +he doubtless fancied he could distinguish the white outline of her to whom he +had sacrificed his life. +</p> + +<p> +De Winter followed his look, observed his feelings, and guessed all. +</p> + +<p> +“Be punished <i>alone</i>, for the first, miserable man!” said Lord de Winter +to Felton, who was being dragged away with his eyes turned toward the sea; “but +I swear to you by the memory of my brother whom I have loved so much that your +accomplice is not saved.” +</p> + +<p> +Felton lowered his head without pronouncing a syllable. +</p> + +<p> +As to Lord de Winter, he descended the stairs rapidly, and went straight to the +port. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap60"></a>Chapter LX.<br/> +IN FRANCE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> first fear of the King of England, Charles I., on +learning of the death of the duke, was that such terrible news might discourage +the Rochellais; he tried, says Richelieu in his <i>Memoirs</i>, to conceal it +from them as long as possible, closing all the ports of his kingdom, and +carefully keeping watch that no vessel should sail until the army which +Buckingham was getting together had gone, taking upon himself, in default of +Buckingham, to superintend the departure. +</p> + +<p> +He carried the strictness of this order so far as to detain in England the +ambassadors of Denmark, who had taken their leave, and the regular ambassador +of Holland, who was to take back to the port of Flushing the Indian merchantmen +of which Charles I. had made restitution to the United Provinces. +</p> + +<p> +But as he did not think of giving this order till five hours after the +event—that is to say, till two o’clock in the afternoon—two vessels +had already left the port, the one bearing, as we know, Milady, who, already +anticipating the event, was further confirmed in that belief by seeing the +black flag flying at the masthead of the admiral’s ship. +</p> + +<p> +As to the second vessel, we will tell hereafter whom it carried, and how it set +sail. +</p> + +<p> +During this time nothing new occurred in the camp at La Rochelle; only the +king, who was bored, as always, but perhaps a little more so in camp than +elsewhere, resolved to go incognito and spend the festival of St. Louis at St. +Germain, and asked the cardinal to order him an escort of only twenty +Musketeers. The cardinal, who sometimes became weary of the king, granted this +leave of absence with great pleasure to his royal lieutenant, who promised to +return about the fifteenth of September. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Tréville, being informed of this by his Eminence, packed his portmanteau; +and as without knowing the cause he knew the great desire and even imperative +need which his friends had of returning to Paris, it goes without saying that +he fixed upon them to form part of the escort. +</p> + +<p> +The four young men heard the news a quarter of an hour after M. de Tréville, +for they were the first to whom he communicated it. It was then that D’Artagnan +appreciated the favor the cardinal had conferred upon him in making him at last +enter the Musketeers—for without that circumstance he would have been +forced to remain in the camp while his companions left it. +</p> + +<p> +It goes without saying that this impatience to return toward Paris had for a +cause the danger which Mme. Bonacieux would run of meeting at the convent of +Béthune with Milady, her mortal enemy. Aramis therefore had written immediately +to Marie Michon, the seamstress at Tours who had such fine acquaintances, to +obtain from the queen authority for Mme. Bonacieux to leave the convent, and to +retire either into Lorraine or Belgium. They had not long to wait for an +answer. Eight or ten days afterward Aramis received the following letter: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>Y DEAR</small> C<small>OUSIN</small>, Here is the authorization from +my sister to withdraw our little servant from the convent of Béthune, the air +of which you think is bad for her. My sister sends you this authorization with +great pleasure, for she is very partial to the little girl, to whom she intends +to be more serviceable hereafter. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“I salute you,<br/> +“M<small>ARIE</small> M<small>ICHON</small>” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +To this letter was added an order, conceived in these terms: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“At the Louvre, August 10, 1628 +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“The superior of the convent of Béthune will place in the hands of the person +who shall present this note to her the novice who entered the convent upon my +recommendation and under my patronage. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“A<small>NNE</small>” +</p> + +<p> +It may be easily imagined how the relationship between Aramis and a seamstress +who called the queen her sister amused the young men; but Aramis, after having +blushed two or three times up to the whites of his eyes at the gross pleasantry +of Porthos, begged his friends not to revert to the subject again, declaring +that if a single word more was said to him about it, he would never again +implore his cousins to interfere in such affairs. +</p> + +<p> +There was no further question, therefore, about Marie Michon among the four +Musketeers, who besides had what they wanted: that was, the order to withdraw +Mme. Bonacieux from the convent of the Carmelites of Béthune. It was true that +this order would not be of great use to them while they were in camp at La +Rochelle; that is to say, at the other end of France. Therefore D’Artagnan was +going to ask leave of absence of M. de Tréville, confiding to him candidly the +importance of his departure, when the news was transmitted to him as well as to +his three friends that the king was about to set out for Paris with an escort +of twenty Musketeers, and that they formed part of the escort. +</p> + +<p> +Their joy was great. The lackeys were sent on before with the baggage, and they +set out on the morning of the sixteenth. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal accompanied his Majesty from Surgères to Mauzes; and there the +king and his minister took leave of each other with great demonstrations of +friendship. +</p> + +<p> +The king, however, who sought distraction, while traveling as fast as +possible—for he was anxious to be in Paris by the +twenty-third—stopped from time to time to fly the magpie, a pastime for +which the taste had been formerly inspired in him by de Luynes, and for which +he had always preserved a great predilection. Out of the twenty Musketeers +sixteen, when this took place, rejoiced greatly at this relaxation; but the +other four cursed it heartily. D’Artagnan, in particular, had a perpetual +buzzing in his ears, which Porthos explained thus: “A very great lady has told +me that this means that somebody is talking of you somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +At length the escort passed through Paris on the twenty-third, in the night. +The king thanked M. de Tréville, and permitted him to distribute furloughs for +four days, on condition that the favored parties should not appear in any +public place, under penalty of the Bastille. +</p> + +<p> +The first four furloughs granted, as may be imagined, were to our four friends. +Still further, Athos obtained of M. de Tréville six days instead of four, and +introduced into these six days two more nights—for they set out on the +twenty-fourth at five o’clock in the evening, and as a further kindness M. de +Tréville post-dated the leave to the morning of the twenty-fifth. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” said D’Artagnan, who, as we have often said, never stumbled at +anything. “It appears to me that we are making a great trouble of a very simple +thing. In two days, and by using up two or three horses (that’s nothing; I have +plenty of money), I am at Béthune. I present my letter from the queen to the +superior, and I bring back the dear treasure I go to seek—not into +Lorraine, not into Belgium, but to Paris, where she will be much better +concealed, particularly while the cardinal is at La Rochelle. Well, once +returned from the country, half by the protection of her cousin, half through +what we have personally done for her, we shall obtain from the queen what we +desire. Remain, then, where you are, and do not exhaust yourselves with useless +fatigue. Myself and Planchet are all that such a simple expedition requires.” +</p> + +<p> +To this Athos replied quietly: “We also have money left—for I have not +yet drunk all my share of the diamond, and Porthos and Aramis have not eaten +all theirs. We can therefore use up four horses as well as one. But consider, +D’Artagnan,” added he, in a tone so solemn that it made the young man shudder, +“consider that Béthune is a city where the cardinal has given rendezvous to a +woman who, wherever she goes, brings misery with her. If you had only to deal +with four men, D’Artagnan, I would allow you to go alone. You have to do with +that woman! We four will go; and I hope to God that with our four lackeys we +may be in sufficient number.” +</p> + +<p> +“You terrify me, Athos!” cried D’Artagnan. “My God! what do you fear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything!” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan examined the countenances of his companions, which, like that of +Athos, wore an impression of deep anxiety; and they continued their route as +fast as their horses could carry them, but without adding another word. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the twenty-fifth, as they were entering Arras, and as +D’Artagnan was dismounting at the inn of the Golden Harrow to drink a glass of +wine, a horseman came out of the post yard, where he had just had a relay, +started off at a gallop, and with a fresh horse took the road to Paris. At the +moment he passed through the gateway into the street, the wind blew open the +cloak in which he was wrapped, although it was in the month of August, and +lifted his hat, which the traveler seized with his hand the moment it had left +his head, pulling it eagerly over his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, who had his eyes fixed upon this man, became very pale, and let his +glass fall. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, monsieur?” said Planchet. “Oh, come, gentlemen, my master +is ill!” +</p> + +<p> +The three friends hastened toward D’Artagnan, who, instead of being ill, ran +toward his horse. They stopped him at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, where the devil are you going now?” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“It is he!” cried D’Artagnan, pale with anger, and with the sweat on his brow, +“it is he! let me overtake him!” +</p> + +<p> +“He? What he?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“He, that man!” +</p> + +<p> +“What man?” +</p> + +<p> +“That cursed man, my evil genius, whom I have always met with when threatened +by some misfortune, he who accompanied that horrible woman when I met her for +the first time, he whom I was seeking when I offended our Athos, he whom I saw +on the very morning Madame Bonacieux was abducted. I have seen him; that is he! +I recognized him when the wind blew upon his cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” said Athos, musingly. +</p> + +<p> +“To saddle, gentlemen! to saddle! Let us pursue him, and we shall overtake +him!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear friend,” said Aramis, “remember that he goes in an opposite direction +from that in which we are going, that he has a fresh horse, and ours are +fatigued, so that we shall disable our own horses without even a chance of +overtaking him. Let the man go, D’Artagnan; let us save the woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, monsieur!” cried a hostler, running out and looking after the +stranger, “monsieur, here is a paper which dropped out of your hat! Eh, +monsieur, eh!” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said D’Artagnan, “a half-pistole for that paper!” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, monsieur, with great pleasure! Here it is!” +</p> + +<p> +The hostler, enchanted with the good day’s work he had done, returned to the +yard. D’Artagnan unfolded the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” eagerly demanded all his three friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing but one word!” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Aramis, “but that one word is the name of some town or village.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Armentières</i>,” read Porthos; “Armentières? I don’t know such a place.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that name of a town or village is written in her hand!” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, come on!” said D’Artagnan; “let us keep that paper carefully, perhaps +I have not thrown away my half-pistole. To horse, my friends, to horse!” +</p> + +<p> +And the four friends flew at a gallop along the road to Béthune. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap61"></a>Chapter LXI.<br/> +THE CARMELITE CONVENT AT BÉTHUNE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">G</span><span +class="dropspan">reat</span> criminals bear about them a kind of predestination +which makes them surmount all obstacles, which makes them escape all dangers, +up to the moment which a wearied Providence has marked as the rock of their +impious fortunes. +</p> + +<p> +It was thus with Milady. She escaped the cruisers of both nations, and arrived +at Boulogne without accident. +</p> + +<p> +When landing at Portsmouth, Milady was an Englishwoman whom the persecutions of +the French drove from La Rochelle; when landing at Boulogne, after a two days’ +passage, she passed for a Frenchwoman whom the English persecuted at Portsmouth +out of their hatred for France. +</p> + +<p> +Milady had, likewise, the best of passports—her beauty, her noble +appearance, and the liberality with which she distributed her pistoles. Freed +from the usual formalities by the affable smile and gallant manners of an old +governor of the port, who kissed her hand, she only remained long enough at +Boulogne to put into the post a letter, conceived in the following terms: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“<i>To his Eminence Monseigneur the Cardinal Richelieu, in his camp before La +Rochelle</i>. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“M<small>ONSEIGNEUR</small>, Let your Eminence be reassured. His Grace the Duke +of Buckingham <i>will not set out</i> for France. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“M<small>ILADY DE</small> —— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“B<small>OULOGNE</small>, evening of the twenty-fifth.<br/> +“P.S.—According to the desire of your Eminence, I report to the convent +of the Carmelites at Béthune, where I will await your orders.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, that same evening Milady commenced her journey. Night overtook +her; she stopped, and slept at an inn. At five o’clock the next morning she +again proceeded, and in three hours after entered Béthune. She inquired for the +convent of the Carmelites, and went thither immediately. +</p> + +<p> +The superior met her; Milady showed her the cardinal’s order. The abbess +assigned her a chamber, and had breakfast served. +</p> + +<p> +All the past was effaced from the eyes of this woman; and her looks, fixed on +the future, beheld nothing but the high fortunes reserved for her by the +cardinal, whom she had so successfully served without his name being in any way +mixed up with the sanguinary affair. The ever-new passions which consumed her +gave to her life the appearance of those clouds which float in the heavens, +reflecting sometimes azure, sometimes fire, sometimes the opaque blackness of +the tempest, and which leave no traces upon the earth behind them but +devastation and death. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, the abbess came to pay her a visit. There is very little +amusement in the cloister, and the good superior was eager to make the +acquaintance of her new boarder. +</p> + +<p> +Milady wished to please the abbess. This was a very easy matter for a woman so +really superior as she was. She tried to be agreeable, and she was charming, +winning the good superior by her varied conversation and by the graces of her +whole personality. +</p> + +<p> +The abbess, who was the daughter of a noble house, took particular delight in +stories of the court, which so seldom travel to the extremities of the kingdom, +and which, above all, have so much difficulty in penetrating the walls of +convents, at whose threshold the noise of the world dies away. +</p> + +<p> +Milady, on the contrary, was quite conversant with all aristocratic intrigues, +amid which she had constantly lived for five or six years. She made it her +business, therefore, to amuse the good abbess with the worldly practices of the +court of France, mixed with the eccentric pursuits of the king; she made for +her the scandalous chronicle of the lords and ladies of the court, whom the +abbess knew perfectly by name, touched lightly on the amours of the queen and +the Duke of Buckingham, talking a great deal to induce her auditor to talk a +little. +</p> + +<p> +But the abbess contented herself with listening and smiling without replying a +word. Milady, however, saw that this sort of narrative amused her very much, +and kept at it; only she now let her conversation drift toward the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +But she was greatly embarrassed. She did not know whether the abbess was a +royalist or a cardinalist; she therefore confined herself to a prudent middle +course. But the abbess, on her part, maintained a reserve still more prudent, +contenting herself with making a profound inclination of the head every time +the fair traveler pronounced the name of his Eminence. +</p> + +<p> +Milady began to think she should soon grow weary of a convent life; she +resolved, then, to risk something in order that she might know how to act +afterward. Desirous of seeing how far the discretion of the good abbess would +go, she began to tell a story, obscure at first, but very circumstantial +afterward, about the cardinal, relating the amours of the minister with Mme. +d’Aiguillon, Marion de Lorme, and several other gay women. +</p> + +<p> +The abbess listened more attentively, grew animated by degrees, and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” thought Milady; “she takes a pleasure in my conversation. If she is a +cardinalist, she has no fanaticism, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +She then went on to describe the persecutions exercised by the cardinal upon +his enemies. The abbess only crossed herself, without approving or +disapproving. +</p> + +<p> +This confirmed Milady in her opinion that the abbess was rather royalist than +cardinalist. Milady therefore continued, coloring her narrations more and more. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very ignorant of these matters,” said the abbess, at length; “but however +distant from the court we may be, however remote from the interests of the +world we may be placed, we have very sad examples of what you have related. And +one of our boarders has suffered much from the vengeance and persecution of the +cardinal!” +</p> + +<p> +“One of your boarders?” said Milady; “oh, my God! Poor woman! I pity her, +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have reason, for she is much to be pitied. Imprisonment, menaces, ill +treatment—she has suffered everything. But after all,” resumed the +abbess, “Monsieur Cardinal has perhaps plausible motives for acting thus; and +though she has the look of an angel, we must not always judge people by the +appearance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Milady to herself; “who knows! I am about, perhaps, to discover +something here; I am in the vein.” +</p> + +<p> +She tried to give her countenance an appearance of perfect candor. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” said Milady, “I know it is so. It is said that we must not trust to the +face; but in what, then, shall we place confidence, if not in the most +beautiful work of the Lord? As for me, I shall be deceived all my life perhaps, +but I shall always have faith in a person whose countenance inspires me with +sympathy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would, then, be tempted to believe,” said the abbess, “that this young +person is innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +“The cardinal pursues not only crimes,” said she: “there are certain virtues +which he pursues more severely than certain offenses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me, madame, to express my surprise,” said the abbess. +</p> + +<p> +“At what?” said Milady, with the utmost ingenuousness. +</p> + +<p> +“At the language you use.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you find so astonishing in that language?” said Milady, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the friend of the cardinal, for he sends you hither, and yet—” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet I speak ill of him,” replied Milady, finishing the thought of the +superior. +</p> + +<p> +“At least you don’t speak well of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is because I am not his friend,” said she, sighing, “but his victim!” +</p> + +<p> +“But this letter in which he recommends you to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is an order for me to confine myself to a sort of prison, from which he will +release me by one of his satellites.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why have you not fled?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither should I go? Do you believe there is a spot on the earth which the +cardinal cannot reach if he takes the trouble to stretch forth his hand? If I +were a man, that would barely be possible; but what can a woman do? This young +boarder of yours, has she tried to fly?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that is true; but she—that is another thing; I believe she is +detained in France by some love affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Milady, with a sigh, “if she loves she is not altogether wretched.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the abbess, looking at Milady with increasing interest, “I behold +another poor victim?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +The abbess looked at her for an instant with uneasiness, as if a fresh thought +suggested itself to her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not an enemy of our holy faith?” said she, hesitatingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who—I?” cried Milady; “I a Protestant? Oh, no! I call to witness the God +who hears us, that on the contrary I am a fervent Catholic!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madame,” said the abbess, smiling, “be reassured; the house in which you +are shall not be a very hard prison, and we will do all in our power to make +you cherish your captivity. You will find here, moreover, the young woman of +whom I spoke, who is persecuted, no doubt, in consequence of some court +intrigue. She is amiable and well-behaved.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is her name?” +</p> + +<p> +“She was sent to me by someone of high rank, under the name of Kitty. I have +not tried to discover her other name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Kitty!” cried Milady. “What? Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“That she is called so? Yes, madame. Do you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady smiled to herself at the idea which had occurred to her that this might +be her old chambermaid. There was connected with the remembrance of this girl a +remembrance of anger; and a desire of vengeance disordered the features of +Milady, which, however, immediately recovered the calm and benevolent +expression which this woman of a hundred faces had for a moment allowed them to +lose. +</p> + +<p> +“And when can I see this young lady, for whom I already feel so great a +sympathy?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this evening,” said the abbess; “today even. But you have been traveling +these four days, as you told me yourself. This morning you rose at five +o’clock; you must stand in need of repose. Go to bed and sleep; at dinnertime +we will rouse you.” +</p> + +<p> +Although Milady would very willingly have gone without sleep, sustained as she +was by all the excitements which a new adventure awakened in her heart, ever +thirsting for intrigues, she nevertheless accepted the offer of the superior. +During the last fifteen days she had experienced so many and such various +emotions that if her frame of iron was still capable of supporting fatigue, her +mind required repose. +</p> + +<p> +She therefore took leave of the abbess, and went to bed, softly rocked by the +ideas of vengeance which the name of Kitty had naturally brought to her +thoughts. She remembered that almost unlimited promise which the cardinal had +given her if she succeeded in her enterprise. She had succeeded; D’Artagnan was +then in her power! +</p> + +<p> +One thing alone frightened her; that was the remembrance of her husband, the +Comte de la Fère, whom she had believed dead, or at least expatriated, and whom +she found again in Athos—the best friend of D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +But alas, if he was the friend of D’Artagnan, he must have lent him his +assistance in all the proceedings by whose aid the queen had defeated the +project of his Eminence; if he was the friend of D’Artagnan, he was the enemy +of the cardinal; and she doubtless would succeed in involving him in the +vengeance by which she hoped to destroy the young Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +All these hopes were so many sweet thoughts for Milady; so, rocked by them, she +soon fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She was awakened by a soft voice which sounded at the foot of her bed. She +opened her eyes, and saw the abbess, accompanied by a young woman with light +hair and delicate complexion, who fixed upon her a look full of benevolent +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +The face of the young woman was entirely unknown to her. Each examined the +other with great attention, while exchanging the customary compliments; both +were very handsome, but of quite different styles of beauty. Milady, however, +smiled in observing that she excelled the young woman by far in her high air +and aristocratic bearing. It is true that the habit of a novice, which the +young woman wore, was not very advantageous in a contest of this kind. +</p> + +<p> +The abbess introduced them to each other. When this formality was ended, as her +duties called her to chapel, she left the two young women alone. +</p> + +<p> +The novice, seeing Milady in bed, was about to follow the example of the +superior; but Milady stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“How, madame,” said she, “I have scarcely seen you, and you already wish to +deprive me of your company, upon which I had counted a little, I must confess, +for the time I have to pass here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame,” replied the novice, “only I thought I had chosen my time ill; you +were asleep, you are fatigued.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Milady, “what can those who sleep wish for—a happy +awakening? This awakening you have given me; allow me, then, to enjoy it at my +ease,” and taking her hand, she drew her toward the armchair by the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +The novice sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“How unfortunate I am!” said she; “I have been here six months without the +shadow of recreation. You arrive, and your presence was likely to afford me +delightful company; yet I expect, in all probability, to quit the convent at +any moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, you are going soon?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“At least I hope so,” said the novice, with an expression of joy which she made +no effort to disguise. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I learned you had suffered persecutions from the cardinal,” continued +Milady; “that would have been another motive for sympathy between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I have heard, then, from our good mother is true; you have likewise been +a victim of that wicked priest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Milady; “let us not, even here, speak thus of him. All my +misfortunes arise from my having said nearly what you have said before a woman +whom I thought my friend, and who betrayed me. Are you also the victim of a +treachery?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the novice, “but of my devotion—of a devotion to a woman I +loved, for whom I would have laid down my life, for whom I would give it +still.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who has abandoned you—is that it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been sufficiently unjust to believe so; but during the last two or +three days I have obtained proof to the contrary, for which I thank +God—for it would have cost me very dear to think she had forgotten me. +But you, madame, you appear to be free,” continued the novice; “and if you were +inclined to fly it only rests with yourself to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither would you have me go, without friends, without money, in a part of +France with which I am unacquainted, and where I have never been before?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” cried the novice, “as to friends, you would have them wherever you want, +you appear so good and are so beautiful!” +</p> + +<p> +“That does not prevent,” replied Milady, softening her smile so as to give it +an angelic expression, “my being alone or being persecuted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me,” said the novice; “we must trust in heaven. There always comes a +moment when the good you have done pleads your cause before God; and see, +perhaps it is a happiness for you, humble and powerless as I am, that you have +met with me, for if I leave this place, well—I have powerful friends, +who, after having exerted themselves on my account, may also exert themselves +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, when I said I was alone,” said Milady, hoping to make the novice talk by +talking of herself, “it is not for want of friends in high places; but these +friends themselves tremble before the cardinal. The queen herself does not dare +to oppose the terrible minister. I have proof that her Majesty, notwithstanding +her excellent heart, has more than once been obliged to abandon to the anger of +his Eminence persons who had served her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trust me, madame; the queen may appear to have abandoned those persons, but we +must not put faith in appearances. The more they are persecuted, the more she +thinks of them; and often, when they least expect it, they have proof of a kind +remembrance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Milady, “I believe so; the queen is so good!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you know her, then, that lovely and noble queen, that you speak of her +thus!” cried the novice, with enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say,” replied Milady, driven into her entrenchment, “that I have +not the honor of knowing her personally; but I know a great number of her most +intimate friends. I am acquainted with Monsieur de Putange; I met Monsieur +Dujart in England; I know Monsieur de Tréville.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Tréville!” exclaimed the novice, “do you know Monsieur de +Tréville?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, perfectly well—intimately even.” +</p> + +<p> +“The captain of the king’s Musketeers?” +</p> + +<p> +“The captain of the king’s Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then, only see!” cried the novice; “we shall soon be well acquainted, +almost friends. If you know Monsieur de Tréville, you must have visited him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Often!” said Milady, who, having entered this track, and perceiving that +falsehood succeeded, was determined to follow it to the end. +</p> + +<p> +“With him, then, you must have seen some of his Musketeers?” +</p> + +<p> +“All those he is in the habit of receiving!” replied Milady, for whom this +conversation began to have a real interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Name a few of those whom you know, and you will see if they are my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” said Milady, embarrassed, “I know Monsieur de Louvigny, Monsieur de +Courtivron, Monsieur de Ferussac.” +</p> + +<p> +The novice let her speak, then seeing that she paused, she said, “Don’t you +know a gentleman named Athos?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady became as pale as the sheets in which she was lying, and mistress as she +was of herself, could not help uttering a cry, seizing the hand of the novice, +and devouring her with looks. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter? Good God!” asked the poor woman, “have I said anything +that has wounded you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but the name struck me, because I also have known that gentleman, and it +appeared strange to me to meet with a person who appears to know him well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, very well; not only him, but some of his friends, Messieurs Porthos +and Aramis!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! you know them likewise? I know them,” cried Milady, who began to feel +a chill penetrate her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you know them, you know that they are good and free companions. Why +do you not apply to them, if you stand in need of help?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say,” stammered Milady, “I am not really very intimate with any of +them. I know them from having heard one of their friends, Monsieur d’Artagnan, +say a great deal about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried the novice, in her turn seizing the hands +of Milady and devouring her with her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Then remarking the strange expression of Milady’s countenance, she said, +“Pardon me, madame; you know him by what title?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” replied Milady, embarrassed, “why, by the title of friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive me, madame,” said the novice; “you have been his mistress!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is you who have been his mistress, madame!” cried Milady, in her turn. +</p> + +<p> +“I?” said the novice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you! I know you now. You are Madame Bonacieux!” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman drew back, filled with surprise and terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not deny it! Answer!” continued Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, madame,” said the novice, “Are we rivals?” +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of Milady was illumined by so savage a joy that under any other +circumstances Mme. Bonacieux would have fled in terror; but she was absorbed by +jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, madame!” resumed Mme. Bonacieux, with an energy of which she might not +have been believed capable. “Have you been, or are you, his mistress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” cried Milady, with an accent that admitted no doubt of her truth. +“Never, never!” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you,” said Mme. Bonacieux; “but why, then, did you cry out so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not understand?” said Milady, who had already overcome her agitation +and recovered all her presence of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“How can I understand? I know nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you not understand that Monsieur d’Artagnan, being my friend, might take +me into his confidence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not perceive that I know all—your abduction from the little house +at St. Germain, his despair, that of his friends, and their useless inquiries +up to this moment? How could I help being astonished when, without having the +least expectation of such a thing, I meet you face to face—you, of whom +we have so often spoken together, you whom he loves with all his soul, you whom +he had taught me to love before I had seen you! Ah, dear Constance, I have +found you, then; I see you at last!” +</p> + +<p> +And Milady stretched out her arms to Mme. Bonacieux, who, convinced by what she +had just said, saw nothing in this woman whom an instant before she had +believed her rival but a sincere and devoted friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pardon me, pardon me!” cried she, sinking upon the shoulders of Milady. +“Pardon me, I love him so much!” +</p> + +<p> +These two women held each other for an instant in a close embrace. Certainly, +if Milady’s strength had been equal to her hatred, Mme. Bonacieux would never +have left that embrace alive. But not being able to stifle her, she smiled upon +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you beautiful, good little creature!” said Milady. “How delighted I am to +have found you! Let me look at you!” and while saying these words, she +absolutely devoured her by her looks. “Oh, yes it is you indeed! From what he +has told me, I know you now. I recognize you perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor young woman could not possibly suspect what frightful cruelty was +behind the rampart of that pure brow, behind those brilliant eyes in which she +read nothing but interest and compassion. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know what I have suffered,” said Mme. Bonacieux, “since he has told +you what he has suffered; but to suffer for him is happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady replied mechanically, “Yes, that is happiness.” She was thinking of +something else. +</p> + +<p> +“And then,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “my punishment is drawing to a close. +Tomorrow, this evening, perhaps, I shall see him again; and then the past will +no longer exist.” +</p> + +<p> +“This evening?” asked Milady, roused from her reverie by these words. “What do +you mean? Do you expect news from him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Himself? D’Artagnan here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Himself!” +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s impossible! He is at the siege of La Rochelle with the cardinal. He +will not return till after the taking of the city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you fancy so! But is there anything impossible for my D’Artagnan, the +noble and loyal gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I cannot believe you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, read, then!” said the unhappy young woman, in the excess of her pride +and joy, presenting a letter to Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“The writing of Madame de Chevreuse!” said Milady to herself. “Ah, I always +thought there was some secret understanding in that quarter!” And she greedily +read the following few lines: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y DEAR</small> C<small>HILD</small>, Hold yourself ready. <i>Our +friend</i> will see you soon, and he will only see you to release you from that +imprisonment in which your safety required you should be concealed. Prepare, +then, for your departure, and never despair of us.<br/> + Our charming Gascon has just proved himself as brave and faithful as ever. +Tell him that certain parties are grateful for the warning he has given. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Milady; “the letter is precise. Do you know what that warning +was?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I only suspect he has warned the queen against some fresh machinations of +the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it, no doubt!” said Milady, returning the letter to Mme. +Bonacieux, and letting her head sink pensively upon her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment they heard the gallop of a horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, darting to the window, “can it be he?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady remained still in bed, petrified by surprise; so many unexpected things +happened to her all at once that for the first time she was at a loss. +</p> + +<p> +“He, he!” murmured she; “can it be he?” And she remained in bed with her eyes +fixed. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, no!” said Mme. Bonacieux; “it is a man I don’t know, although he seems +to be coming here. Yes, he checks his pace; he stops at the gate; he rings.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady sprang out of bed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure it is not he?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, very sure!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you did not see well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I were to see the plume of his hat, the end of his cloak, I should know +<i>him!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Milady was dressing herself all the time. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he has entered.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is for you or me!” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, how agitated you seem!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I admit it. I have not your confidence; I fear the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Mme. Bonacieux; “somebody is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the door opened, and the superior entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you come from Boulogne?” demanded she of Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied she, trying to recover her self-possession. “Who wants me?” +</p> + +<p> +“A man who will not tell his name, but who comes from the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who wishes to speak with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who wishes to speak to a lady recently come from Boulogne.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let him come in, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God!” cried Mme. Bonacieux. “Can it be bad news?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will leave you with this stranger; but as soon as he is gone, if you will +permit me, I will return.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Permit</i> you? I <i>beseech</i> you.” +</p> + +<p> +The superior and Mme. Bonacieux retired. +</p> + +<p> +Milady remained alone, with her eyes fixed upon the door. An instant later, the +jingling of spurs was heard upon the stairs, steps drew near, the door opened, +and a man appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Milady uttered a cry of joy; this man was the Comte de Rochefort—the +demoniacal tool of his Eminence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap62"></a>Chapter LXII.<br/> +TWO VARIETIES OF DEMONS</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">A</span><span +class="dropspan">h,” cried</span> Milady and Rochefort together, “it is you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is I.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you come?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“From La Rochelle; and you?” +</p> + +<p> +“From England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead or desperately wounded, as I left without having been able to hear +anything of him. A fanatic has just assassinated him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Rochefort, with a smile; “this is a fortunate chance—one that +will delight his Eminence! Have you informed him of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wrote to him from Boulogne. But what brings you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“His Eminence was uneasy, and sent me to find you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only arrived yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what have you been doing since yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not lost my time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know whom I have encountered here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I?” +</p> + +<p> +“That young woman whom the queen took out of prison.” +</p> + +<p> +“The mistress of that fellow D’Artagnan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; Madame Bonacieux, with whose retreat the cardinal was unacquainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said Rochefort, “here is a chance which may pair off with the +other! Monsieur Cardinal is indeed a privileged man!” +</p> + +<p> +“Imagine my astonishment,” continued Milady, “when I found myself face to face +with this woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she know you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she looks upon you as a stranger?” +</p> + +<p> +Milady smiled. “I am her best friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my honor,” said Rochefort, “it takes you, my dear countess, to perform +such miracles!” +</p> + +<p> +“And it is well I can, Chevalier,” said Milady, “for do you know what is going +on here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will come for her tomorrow or the day after, with an order from the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! And who?” +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan and his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, they will go so far that we shall be obliged to send them to the +Bastille.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it not done already?” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you? The cardinal has a weakness for these men which I cannot +comprehend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, tell him this, Rochefort. Tell him that our conversation at the +inn of the Red Dovecot was overheard by these four men; tell him that after his +departure one of them came up to me and took from me by violence the +safe-conduct which he had given me; tell him they warned Lord de Winter of my +journey to England; that this time they nearly foiled my mission as they foiled +the affair of the studs; tell him that among these four men two only are to be +feared—D’Artagnan and Athos; tell him that the third, Aramis, is the +lover of Madame de Chevreuse—he may be left alone, we know his secret, +and it may be useful; as to the fourth, Porthos, he is a fool, a simpleton, a +blustering booby, not worth troubling himself about.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these four men must be now at the siege of La Rochelle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so, too; but a letter which Madame Bonacieux has received from +Madame the Constable, and which she has had the imprudence to show me, leads me +to believe that these four men, on the contrary, are on the road hither to take +her away.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! What’s to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“What did the cardinal say about me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was to take your dispatches, written or verbal, and return by post; and when +he shall know what you have done, he will advise what you have to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must, then, remain here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, or in the neighborhood.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot take me with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the order is imperative. Near the camp you might be recognized; and your +presence, you must be aware, would compromise the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must wait here, or in the neighborhood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only tell me beforehand where you will wait for intelligence from the +cardinal; let me know always where to find you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Observe, it is probable that I may not be able to remain here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget that my enemies may arrive at any minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true; but is this little woman, then, to escape his Eminence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Milady, with a smile that belonged only to herself; “you forget +that I am her best friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that’s true! I may then tell the cardinal, with respect to this little +woman—” +</p> + +<p> +“That he may be at ease.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +“He will know what that means.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will guess, at least. Now, then, what had I better do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Return instantly. It appears to me that the news you bear is worth the trouble +of a little diligence.” +</p> + +<p> +“My chaise broke down coming into Lilliers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Capital!” +</p> + +<p> +“What, <i>capital?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I want your chaise.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how shall I travel, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“On horseback.” +</p> + +<p> +“You talk very comfortably,—a hundred and eighty leagues!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“One can do it! Afterward?” +</p> + +<p> +“Afterward? Why, in passing through Lilliers you will send me your chaise, with +an order to your servant to place himself at my disposal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have, no doubt, some order from the cardinal about you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have my <i>full power</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Show it to the abbess, and tell her that someone will come and fetch me, +either today or tomorrow, and that I am to follow the person who presents +himself in your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget to treat me harshly in speaking of me to the abbess.” +</p> + +<p> +“To what purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a victim of the cardinal. It is necessary to inspire confidence in that +poor little Madame Bonacieux.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true. Now, will you make me a report of all that has happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I have related the events to you. You have a good memory; repeat what I +have told you. A paper may be lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right; only let me know where to find you that I may not run +needlessly about the neighborhood.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s correct; wait!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want a map?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know this country marvelously!” +</p> + +<p> +“You? When were you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was brought up here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is worth something, you see, to have been brought up somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will wait for me, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me reflect a little! Ay, that will do—at Armentières.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is that Armentières?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little town on the Lys; I shall only have to cross the river, and I shall be +in a foreign country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Capital! but it is understood you will only cross the river in case of +danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well understood.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in that case, how shall I know where you are?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not want your lackey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a sure man?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the proof.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give him to me. Nobody knows him. I will leave him at the place I quit, and he +will conduct you to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you say you will wait for me at Armentières?” +</p> + +<p> +“At Armentières.” +</p> + +<p> +“Write that name on a bit of paper, lest I should forget it. There is nothing +compromising in the name of a town. Is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, who knows? Never mind,” said Milady, writing the name on half a sheet of +paper; “I will compromise myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Rochefort, taking the paper from Milady, folding it, and placing +it in the lining of his hat, “you may be easy. I will do as children do, for +fear of losing the paper—repeat the name along the route. Now, is that +all?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see: Buckingham dead or grievously wounded; your conversation with the +cardinal overheard by the four Musketeers; Lord de Winter warned of your +arrival at Portsmouth; D’Artagnan and Athos to the Bastille; Aramis the lover +of Madame de Chevreuse; Porthos an ass; Madame Bonacieux found again; to send +you the chaise as soon as possible; to place my lackey at your disposal; to +make you out a victim of the cardinal in order that the abbess may entertain no +suspicion; Armentières, on the banks of the Lys. Is that all, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, my dear Chevalier, you are a miracle of memory. <i>A propos</i>, add +one thing—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw some very pretty woods which almost touch the convent garden. Say that I +am permitted to walk in those woods. Who knows? Perhaps I shall stand in need +of a back door for retreat.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think of everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you forget one thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“To ask me if I want money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true. How much do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“All you have in gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have five hundred pistoles, or thereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have as much. With a thousand pistoles one may face everything. Empty your +pockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“There.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right. And you go—” +</p> + +<p> +“In an hour—time to eat a morsel, during which I shall send for a post +horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Capital! Adieu, Chevalier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, Countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Commend me to the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Commend me to Satan.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady and Rochefort exchanged a smile and separated. An hour afterward +Rochefort set out at a grand gallop; five hours after that he passed through +Arras. +</p> + +<p> +Our readers already know how he was recognized by D’Artagnan, and how that +recognition by inspiring fear in the four Musketeers had given fresh activity +to their journey. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap63"></a>Chapter LXIII.<br/> +THE DROP OF WATER</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">R</span><span +class="dropspan">ochefort</span> had scarcely departed when Mme. Bonacieux +re-entered. She found Milady with a smiling countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the young woman, “what you dreaded has happened. This evening, or +tomorrow, the cardinal will send someone to take you away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you that, my dear?” asked Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it from the mouth of the messenger himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come and sit down close to me,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till I assure myself that nobody hears us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why all these precautions?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall know.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady arose, went to the door, opened it, looked in the corridor, and then +returned and seated herself close to Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said she, “he has well played his part.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has?” +</p> + +<p> +“He who just now presented himself to the abbess as a messenger from the +cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was, then, a part he was playing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my child.” +</p> + +<p> +“That man, then, was not—” +</p> + +<p> +“That man,” said Milady, lowering her voice, “is my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother!” cried Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +“No one must know this secret, my dear, but yourself. If you reveal it to +anyone in the world, I shall be lost, and perhaps yourself likewise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen. This is what has happened: My brother, who was coming to my assistance +to take me away by force if it were necessary, met with the emissary of the +cardinal, who was coming in search of me. He followed him. At a solitary and +retired part of the road he drew his sword, and required the messenger to +deliver up to him the papers of which he was the bearer. The messenger +resisted; my brother killed him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Mme. Bonacieux, shuddering. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, that was the only means. Then my brother determined to substitute +cunning for force. He took the papers, and presented himself here as the +emissary of the cardinal, and in an hour or two a carriage will come to take me +away by the orders of his Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand. It is your brother who sends this carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly; but that is not all. That letter you have received, and which you +believe to be from Madame de Chevreuse—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a forgery.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can that be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a forgery; it is a snare to prevent your making any resistance when they +come to fetch you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is D’Artagnan that will come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not deceive yourself. D’Artagnan and his friends are detained at the siege +of La Rochelle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother met some emissaries of the cardinal in the uniform of Musketeers. +You would have been summoned to the gate; you would have believed yourself +about to meet friends; you would have been abducted, and conducted back to +Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! My senses fail me amid such a chaos of iniquities. I feel, if this +continues,” said Mme. Bonacieux, raising her hands to her forehead, “I shall go +mad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear a horse’s steps; it is my brother setting off again. I should like to +offer him a last salute. Come!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady opened the window, and made a sign to Mme. Bonacieux to join her. The +young woman complied. +</p> + +<p> +Rochefort passed at a gallop. +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, brother!” cried Milady. +</p> + +<p> +The chevalier raised his head, saw the two young women, and without stopping, +waved his hand in a friendly way to Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“The good George!” said she, closing the window with an expression of +countenance full of affection and melancholy. And she resumed her seat, as if +plunged in reflections entirely personal. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear lady,” said Mme. Bonacieux, “pardon me for interrupting you; but what do +you advise me to do? Good heaven! You have more experience than I have. Speak; +I will listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place,” said Milady, “it is possible I may be deceived, and that +D’Artagnan and his friends may really come to your assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that would be too much!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, “so much happiness is not +in store for me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you comprehend it would be only a question of time, a sort of race, which +should arrive first. If your friends are the more speedy, you are to be saved; +if the satellites of the cardinal, you are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, yes; lost beyond redemption! What, then, to do? What to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“There would be a very simple means, very natural—” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what!” +</p> + +<p> +“To wait, concealed in the neighborhood, and assure yourself who are the men +who come to ask for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where can I wait?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there is no difficulty in that. I shall stop and conceal myself a few +leagues hence until my brother can rejoin me. Well, I take you with me; we +conceal ourselves, and wait together.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I shall not be allowed to go; I am almost a prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“As they believe that I go in consequence of an order from the cardinal, no one +will believe you anxious to follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! The carriage is at the door; you bid me adieu; you mount the step to +embrace me a last time; my brother’s servant, who comes to fetch me, is told +how to proceed; he makes a sign to the postillion, and we set off at a gallop.” +</p> + +<p> +“But D’Artagnan! D’Artagnan! if he comes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we not know it?” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing easier. We will send my brother’s servant back to Béthune, whom, as I +told you, we can trust. He shall assume a disguise, and place himself in front +of the convent. If the emissaries of the cardinal arrive, he will take no +notice; if it is Monsieur d’Artagnan and his friends, he will bring them to +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He knows them, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless. Has he not seen Monsieur d’Artagnan at my house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, yes; you are right. Thus all may go well—all may be for the +best; but we do not go far from this place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven or eight leagues at the most. We will keep on the frontiers, for +instance; and at the first alarm we can leave France.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what can we do there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if they come?” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother’s carriage will be here first.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I should happen to be any distance from you when the carriage comes for +you—at dinner or supper, for instance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do one thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your good superior that in order that we may be as much together as +possible, you ask her permission to share my repast.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will she permit it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What inconvenience can it be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, delightful! In this way we shall not be separated for an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go down to her, then, to make your request. I feel my head a little +confused; I will take a turn in the garden.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go; and where shall I find you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, in an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, in an hour. Oh, you are so kind, and I am so grateful!” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I avoid interesting myself for one who is so beautiful and so amiable? +Are you not the beloved of one of my best friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear D’Artagnan! Oh, how he will thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so. Now, then, all is agreed; let us go down.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are going into the garden?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go along this corridor, down a little staircase, and you are in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent; thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +And the two women parted, exchanging charming smiles. +</p> + +<p> +Milady had told the truth—her head was confused, for her ill-arranged +plans clashed one another like chaos. She required to be alone that she might +put her thoughts a little into order. She saw vaguely the future; but she stood +in need of a little silence and quiet to give all her ideas, as yet confused, a +distinct form and a regular plan. +</p> + +<p> +What was most pressing was to get Mme. Bonacieux away, and convey her to a +place of safety, and there, if matters required, make her a hostage. Milady +began to have doubts of the issue of this terrible duel, in which her enemies +showed as much perseverance as she did animosity. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, she felt as we feel when a storm is coming on—that this issue +was near, and could not fail to be terrible. +</p> + +<p> +The principal thing for her, then, was, as we have said, to keep Mme. Bonacieux +in her power. Mme. Bonacieux was the very life of D’Artagnan. This was more +than his life, the life of the woman he loved; this was, in case of ill +fortune, a means of temporizing and obtaining good conditions. +</p> + +<p> +Now, this point was settled; Mme. Bonacieux, without any suspicion, accompanied +her. Once concealed with her at Armentières, it would be easy to make her +believe that D’Artagnan had not come to Béthune. In fifteen days at most, +Rochefort would be back; besides, during that fifteen days she would have time +to think how she could best avenge herself on the four friends. She would not +be weary, thank God! for she should enjoy the sweetest pastime such events +could accord a woman of her character—perfecting a beautiful vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +Revolving all this in her mind, she cast her eyes around her, and arranged the +topography of the garden in her head. Milady was like a good general who +contemplates at the same time victory and defeat, and who is quite prepared, +according to the chances of the battle, to march forward or to beat a retreat. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of an hour she heard a soft voice calling her; it was Mme. +Bonacieux’s. The good abbess had naturally consented to her request; and as a +commencement, they were to sup together. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the courtyard, they heard the noise of a carriage which stopped at +the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Milady listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear anything?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the rolling of a carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the one my brother sends for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come! courage!” +</p> + +<p> +The bell of the convent gate was sounded; Milady was not mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to your chamber,” said she to Mme. Bonacieux; “you have perhaps some jewels +you would like to take.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have his letters,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go and fetch them, and come to my apartment. We will snatch some supper; +we shall perhaps travel part of the night, and must keep our strength up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great God!” said Mme. Bonacieux, placing her hand upon her bosom, “my heart +beats so I cannot walk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, courage! remember that in a quarter of an hour you will be safe; and +think that what you are about to do is for <i>his</i> sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, everything for him. You have restored my courage by a single word; +go, I will rejoin you.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady ran up to her apartment quickly; she there found Rochefort’s lackey, and +gave him his instructions. +</p> + +<p> +He was to wait at the gate; if by chance the Musketeers should appear, the +carriage was to set off as fast as possible, pass around the convent, and go +and wait for Milady at a little village which was situated at the other side of +the wood. In this case Milady would cross the garden and gain the village on +foot. As we have already said, Milady was admirably acquainted with this part +of France. +</p> + +<p> +If the Musketeers did not appear, things were to go on as had been agreed; Mme. +Bonacieux was to get into the carriage as if to bid her adieu, and she was to +take away Mme. Bonacieux. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux came in; and to remove all suspicion, if she had any, Milady +repeated to the lackey, before her, the latter part of her instructions. +</p> + +<p> +Milady asked some questions about the carriage. It was a chaise drawn by three +horses, driven by a postillion; Rochefort’s lackey would precede it, as +courier. +</p> + +<p> +Milady was wrong in fearing that Mme. Bonacieux would have any suspicion. The +poor young woman was too pure to suppose that any female could be guilty of +such perfidy; besides, the name of the Comtesse de Winter, which she had heard +the abbess pronounce, was wholly unknown to her, and she was even ignorant that +a woman had had so great and so fatal a share in the misfortune of her life. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said she, when the lackey had gone out, “everything is ready. The +abbess suspects nothing, and believes that I am taken by order of the cardinal. +This man goes to give his last orders; take the least thing, drink a finger of +wine, and let us be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mme. Bonacieux, mechanically, “yes, let us be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady made her a sign to sit down opposite, poured her a small glass of +Spanish wine, and helped her to the wing of a chicken. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” said she, “if everything does not second us! Here is night coming on; by +daybreak we shall have reached our retreat, and nobody can guess where we are. +Come, courage! take something.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux ate a few mouthfuls mechanically, and just touched the glass +with her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come!” said Milady, lifting hers to her mouth, “do as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +But at the moment the glass touched her lips, her hand remained suspended; she +heard something on the road which sounded like the rattling of a distant +gallop. Then it grew nearer, and it seemed to her, almost at the same time, +that she heard the neighing of horses. +</p> + +<p> +This noise acted upon her joy like the storm which awakens the sleeper in the +midst of a happy dream; she grew pale and ran to the window, while Mme. +Bonacieux, rising all in a tremble, supported herself upon her chair to avoid +falling. Nothing was yet to be seen, only they heard the galloping draw nearer. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” said Mme. Bonacieux, “what is that noise?” +</p> + +<p> +“That of either our friends or our enemies,” said Milady, with her terrible +coolness. “Stay where you are, I will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux remained standing, mute, motionless, and pale as a statue. +</p> + +<p> +The noise became louder; the horses could not be more than a hundred and fifty +paces distant. If they were not yet to be seen, it was because the road made an +elbow. The noise became so distinct that the horses might be counted by the +rattle of their hoofs. +</p> + +<p> +Milady gazed with all the power of her attention; it was just light enough for +her to see who was coming. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, at the turning of the road she saw the glitter of laced hats and +the waving of feathers; she counted two, then five, then eight horsemen. One of +them preceded the rest by double the length of his horse. +</p> + +<p> +Milady uttered a stifled groan. In the first horseman she recognized +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God,” cried Mme. Bonacieux, “what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the uniform of the cardinal’s Guards. Not an instant to be lost! Fly, +fly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, let us fly!” repeated Mme. Bonacieux, but without being able to make +a step, glued as she was to the spot by terror. +</p> + +<p> +They heard the horsemen pass under the windows. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then, come, then!” cried Milady, trying to drag the young woman along by +the arm. “Thanks to the garden, we yet can flee; I have the key, but make +haste! in five minutes it will be too late!” +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux tried to walk, made two steps, and sank upon her knees. Milady +tried to raise and carry her, but could not do it. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment they heard the rolling of the carriage, which at the approach of +the Musketeers set off at a gallop. Then three or four shots were fired. +</p> + +<p> +“For the last time, will you come?” cried Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, my God! you see my strength fails me; you see plainly I cannot +walk. Flee alone!” +</p> + +<p> +“Flee alone, and leave you here? No, no, never!” cried Milady. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she paused, a livid flash darted from her eyes; she ran to the +table, emptied into Mme. Bonacieux’s glass the contents of a ring which she +opened with singular quickness. It was a grain of a reddish color, which +dissolved immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Then, taking the glass with a firm hand, she said, “Drink. This wine will give +you strength, drink!” And she put the glass to the lips of the young woman, who +drank mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not the way that I wished to avenge myself,” said Milady, replacing +the glass upon the table, with an infernal smile, “but, my faith! we do what we +can!” And she rushed out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux saw her go without being able to follow her; she was like people +who dream they are pursued, and who in vain try to walk. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments passed; a great noise was heard at the gate. Every instant Mme. +Bonacieux expected to see Milady, but she did not return. Several times, with +terror, no doubt, the cold sweat burst from her burning brow. +</p> + +<p> +At length she heard the grating of the hinges of the opening gates; the noise +of boots and spurs resounded on the stairs. There was a great murmur of voices +which continued to draw near, amid which she seemed to hear her own name +pronounced. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she uttered a loud cry of joy, and darted toward the door; she had +recognized the voice of D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan! D’Artagnan!” cried she, “is it you? This way! this way!” +</p> + +<p> +“Constance? Constance?” replied the young man, “where are you? where are you? +My God!” +</p> + +<p> +At the same moment the door of the cell yielded to a shock, rather than opened; +several men rushed into the chamber. Mme. Bonacieux had sunk into an armchair, +without the power of moving. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan threw down a yet-smoking pistol which he held in his hand, and fell +on his knees before his mistress. Athos replaced his in his belt; Porthos and +Aramis, who held their drawn swords in their hands, returned them to their +scabbards. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, D’Artagnan, my beloved D’Artagnan! You have come, then, at last! You have +not deceived me! It is indeed thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Constance. Reunited!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it was in vain she told me you would not come! I hoped in silence. I was +not willing to fly. Oh, I have done well! How happy I am!” +</p> + +<p> +At this word <i>she</i>, Athos, who had seated himself quietly, started up. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>She!</i> What she?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my companion. She who out of friendship for me wished to take me from my +persecutors. She who, mistaking you for the cardinal’s Guards, has just fled +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your companion!” cried D’Artagnan, becoming more pale than the white veil of +his mistress. “Of what companion are you speaking, dear Constance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of her whose carriage was at the gate; of a woman who calls herself your +friend; of a woman to whom you have told everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her name, her name!” cried D’Artagnan. “My God, can you not remember her +name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was pronounced in my hearing once. Stop—but—it is very +strange—oh, my God, my head swims! I cannot see!” +</p> + +<p> +“Help, help, my friends! her hands are icy cold,” cried D’Artagnan. “She is +ill! Great God, she is losing her senses!” +</p> + +<p> +While Porthos was calling for help with all the power of his strong voice, +Aramis ran to the table to get a glass of water; but he stopped at seeing the +horrible alteration that had taken place in the countenance of Athos, who, +standing before the table, his hair rising from his head, his eyes fixed in +stupor, was looking at one of the glasses, and appeared a prey to the most +horrible doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Athos, “oh, no, it is impossible! God would not permit such a +crime!” +</p> + +<p> +“Water, water!” cried D’Artagnan. “Water!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, poor woman, poor woman!” murmured Athos, in a broken voice. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. Bonacieux opened her eyes under the kisses of D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“She revives!” cried the young man. “Oh, my God, my God, I thank thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” said Athos, “madame, in the name of heaven, whose empty glass is +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine, monsieur,” said the young woman, in a dying voice. +</p> + +<p> +“But who poured the wine for you that was in this glass?” +</p> + +<p> +“She.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who is <i>she?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I remember!” said Mme. Bonacieux, “the Comtesse de Winter.” +</p> + +<p> +The four friends uttered one and the same cry, but that of Athos dominated all +the rest. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the countenance of Mme. Bonacieux became livid; a fearful agony +pervaded her frame, and she sank panting into the arms of Porthos and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan seized the hands of Athos with an anguish difficult to be described. +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you believe?” His voice was stifled by sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe everything,” said Athos, biting his lips till the blood sprang to +avoid sighing. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, D’Artagnan!” cried Mme. Bonacieux, “where art thou? Do not leave +me! You see I am dying!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan released the hands of Athos which he still held clasped in both his +own, and hastened to her. Her beautiful face was distorted with agony; her +glassy eyes had no longer their sight; a convulsive shuddering shook her whole +body; the sweat rolled from her brow. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of heaven, run, call! Aramis! Porthos! Call for help!” +</p> + +<p> +“Useless!” said Athos, “useless! For the poison which <i>she</i> pours there is +no antidote.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! Help, help!” murmured Mme. Bonacieux; “help!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, collecting all her strength, she took the head of the young man between +her hands, looked at him for an instant as if her whole soul passed into that +look, and with a sobbing cry pressed her lips to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Constance, Constance!” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +A sigh escaped from the mouth of Mme. Bonacieux, and dwelt for an instant on +the lips of D’Artagnan. That sigh was the soul, so chaste and so loving, which +reascended to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan pressed nothing but a corpse in his arms. The young man uttered a +cry, and fell by the side of his mistress as pale and as icy as herself. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos wept; Aramis pointed toward heaven; Athos made the sign of the cross. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a man appeared in the doorway, almost as pale as those in the +chamber. He looked around him and saw Mme. Bonacieux dead, and D’Artagnan in a +swoon. He appeared just at that moment of stupor which follows great +catastrophes. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not deceived,” said he; “here is Monsieur d’Artagnan; and you are his +friends, Messieurs Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.” +</p> + +<p> +The persons whose names were thus pronounced looked at the stranger with +astonishment. It seemed to all three that they knew him. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” resumed the newcomer, “you are, as I am, in search of a woman +who,” added he, with a terrible smile, “must have passed this way, for I see a +corpse.” +</p> + +<p> +The three friends remained mute—for although the voice as well as the +countenance reminded them of someone they had seen, they could not remember +under what circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” continued the stranger, “since you do not recognize a man who +probably owes his life to you twice, I must name myself. I am Lord de Winter, +brother-in-law of that <i>woman</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +The three friends uttered a cry of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Athos rose, and offering him his hand, “Be welcome, my Lord,” said he, “you are +one of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I set out five hours after her from Portsmouth,” said Lord de Winter. “I +arrived three hours after her at Boulogne. I missed her by twenty minutes at +St. Omer. Finally, at Lilliers I lost all trace of her. I was going about at +random, inquiring of everybody, when I saw you gallop past. I recognized +Monsieur d’Artagnan. I called to you, but you did not answer me; I wished to +follow you, but my horse was too much fatigued to go at the same pace with +yours. And yet it appears, in spite of all your diligence, you have arrived too +late.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see!” said Athos, pointing to Mme. Bonacieux dead, and to D’Artagnan, whom +Porthos and Aramis were trying to recall to life. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they both dead?” asked Lord de Winter, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Athos, “fortunately Monsieur d’Artagnan has only fainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed, so much the better!” said Lord de Winter. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment D’Artagnan opened his eyes. He tore himself from the arms of +Porthos and Aramis, and threw himself like a madman on the corpse of his +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Athos rose, walked toward his friend with a slow and solemn step, embraced him +tenderly, and as he burst into violent sobs, he said to him with his noble and +persuasive voice, “Friend, be a man! Women weep for the dead; men avenge them!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes!” cried D’Artagnan, “yes! If it be to avenge her, I am ready to follow +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos profited by this moment of strength which the hope of vengeance restored +to his unfortunate friend to make a sign to Porthos and Aramis to go and fetch +the superior. +</p> + +<p> +The two friends met her in the corridor, greatly troubled and much upset by +such strange events; she called some of the nuns, who against all monastic +custom found themselves in the presence of five men. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said Athos, passing his arm under that of D’Artagnan, “we abandon to +your pious care the body of that unfortunate woman. She was an angel on earth +before being an angel in heaven. Treat her as one of your sisters. We will +return someday to pray over her grave.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan concealed his face in the bosom of Athos, and sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“Weep,” said Athos, “weep, heart full of love, youth, and life! Alas, would I +could weep like you!” +</p> + +<p> +And he drew away his friend, as affectionate as a father, as consoling as a +priest, noble as a man who has suffered much. +</p> + +<p> +All five, followed by their lackeys leading their horses, took their way to the +town of Béthune, whose outskirts they perceived, and stopped before the first +inn they came to. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said D’Artagnan, “shall we not pursue that woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Later,” said Athos. “I have measures to take.” +</p> + +<p> +“She will escape us,” replied the young man; “she will escape us, and it will +be your fault, Athos.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be accountable for her,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan had so much confidence in the word of his friend that he lowered his +head, and entered the inn without reply. +</p> + +<p> +Porthos and Aramis regarded each other, not understanding this assurance of +Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter believed he spoke in this manner to soothe the grief of +D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen,” said Athos, when he had ascertained there were five chambers +free in the hôtel, “let everyone retire to his own apartment. D’Artagnan needs +to be alone, to weep and to sleep. I take charge of everything; be easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears, however,” said Lord de Winter, “if there are any measures to take +against the countess, it concerns me; she is my sister-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +“And me,” said Athos, “—she is my wife!” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan smiled—for he understood that Athos was sure of his vengeance +when he revealed such a secret. Porthos and Aramis looked at each other, and +grew pale. Lord de Winter thought Athos was mad. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, retire to your chambers,” said Athos, “and leave me to act. You must +perceive that in my quality of a husband this concerns me. Only, D’Artagnan, if +you have not lost it, give me the paper which fell from that man’s hat, upon +which is written the name of the village of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said D’Artagnan, “I comprehend! that name written in her hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, then,” said Athos, “there is a god in heaven still!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap64"></a>Chapter LXIV.<br/> +THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">T</span><span +class="dropspan">he</span> despair of Athos had given place to a concentrated +grief which only rendered more lucid the brilliant mental faculties of that +extraordinary man. +</p> + +<p> +Possessed by one single thought—that of the promise he had made, and of +the responsibility he had taken—he retired last to his chamber, begged +the host to procure him a map of the province, bent over it, examined every +line traced upon it, perceived that there were four different roads from +Béthune to Armentières, and summoned the lackeys. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet, Grimaud, Bazin, and Mousqueton presented themselves, and received +clear, positive, and serious orders from Athos. +</p> + +<p> +They must set out the next morning at daybreak, and go to +Armentières—each by a different route. Planchet, the most intelligent of +the four, was to follow that by which the carriage had gone upon which the four +friends had fired, and which was accompanied, as may be remembered, by +Rochefort’s servant. +</p> + +<p> +Athos set the lackeys to work first because, since these men had been in the +service of himself and his friends he had discovered in each of them different +and essential qualities. Then, lackeys who ask questions inspire less mistrust +than masters, and meet with more sympathy among those to whom they address +themselves. Besides, Milady knew the masters, and did not know the lackeys; on +the contrary, the lackeys knew Milady perfectly. +</p> + +<p> +All four were to meet the next day at eleven o’clock. If they had discovered +Milady’s retreat, three were to remain on guard; the fourth was to return to +Béthune in order to inform Athos and serve as a guide to the four friends. +These arrangements made, the lackeys retired. +</p> + +<p> +Athos then arose from his chair, girded on his sword, enveloped himself in his +cloak, and left the hôtel. It was nearly ten o’clock. At ten o’clock in the +evening, it is well known, the streets in provincial towns are very little +frequented. Athos nevertheless was visibly anxious to find someone of whom he +could ask a question. At length he met a belated passenger, went up to him, and +spoke a few words to him. The man he addressed recoiled with terror, and only +answered the few words of the Musketeer by pointing. Athos offered the man half +a pistole to accompany him, but the man refused. +</p> + +<p> +Athos then plunged into the street the man had indicated with his finger; but +arriving at four crossroads, he stopped again, visibly embarrassed. +Nevertheless, as the crossroads offered him a better chance than any other +place of meeting somebody, he stood still. In a few minutes a night watch +passed. Athos repeated to him the same question he had asked the first person +he met. The night watch evinced the same terror, refused, in his turn, to +accompany Athos, and only pointed with his hand to the road he was to take. +</p> + +<p> +Athos walked in the direction indicated, and reached the suburb situated at the +opposite extremity of the city from that by which he and his friends had +entered it. There he again appeared uneasy and embarrassed, and stopped for the +third time. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, a mendicant passed, who, coming up to Athos to ask charity, Athos +offered him half a crown to accompany him where he was going. The mendicant +hesitated at first, but at the sight of the piece of silver which shone in the +darkness he consented, and walked on before Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the angle of a street, he pointed to a small house, isolated, +solitary, and dismal. Athos went toward the house, while the mendicant, who had +received his reward, left as fast as his legs could carry him. +</p> + +<p> +Athos went round the house before he could distinguish the door, amid the red +color in which the house was painted. No light appeared through the chinks of +the shutters; no noise gave reason to believe that it was inhabited. It was +dark and silent as the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +Three times Athos knocked without receiving an answer. At the third knock, +however, steps were heard inside. The door at length was opened, and a man +appeared, of high stature, pale complexion, and black hair and beard. +</p> + +<p> +Athos and he exchanged some words in a low voice, then the tall man made a sign +to the Musketeer that he might come in. Athos immediately profited by the +permission, and the door was closed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +The man whom Athos had come so far to seek, and whom he had found with so much +trouble, introduced him into his laboratory, where he was engaged in fastening +together with iron wire the dry bones of a skeleton. All the frame was adjusted +except the head, which lay on the table. +</p> + +<p> +All the rest of the furniture indicated that the dweller in this house occupied +himself with the study of natural science. There were large bottles filled with +serpents, ticketed according to their species; dried lizards shone like +emeralds set in great squares of black wood, and bunches of wild odoriferous +herbs, doubtless possessed of virtues unknown to common men, were fastened to +the ceiling and hung down in the corners of the apartment. There was no family, +no servant; the tall man alone inhabited this house. +</p> + +<p> +Athos cast a cold and indifferent glance upon the objects we have described, +and at the invitation of him whom he came to seek sat down near him. +</p> + +<p> +Then he explained to him the cause of his visit, and the service he required of +him. But scarcely had he expressed his request when the unknown, who remained +standing before the Musketeer, drew back with signs of terror, and refused. +Then Athos took from his pocket a small paper, on which two lines were written, +accompanied by a signature and a seal, and presented them to him who had made +too prematurely these signs of repugnance. The tall man had scarcely read these +lines, seen the signature, and recognized the seal, when he bowed to denote +that he had no longer any objection to make, and that he was ready to obey. +</p> + +<p> +Athos required no more. He arose, bowed, went out, returned by the same way he +came, re-entered the hôtel, and went to his apartment. +</p> + +<p> +At daybreak D’Artagnan entered the chamber, and demanded what was to be done. +</p> + +<p> +“To wait,” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Some minutes after, the superior of the convent sent to inform the Musketeers +that the burial would take place at midday. As to the poisoner, they had heard +no tidings of her whatever, only that she must have made her escape through the +garden, on the sand of which her footsteps could be traced, and the door of +which had been found shut. As to the key, it had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +At the hour appointed, Lord de Winter and the four friends repaired to the +convent; the bells tolled, the chapel was open, the grating of the choir was +closed. In the middle of the choir the body of the victim, clothed in her +novitiate dress, was exposed. On each side of the choir and behind the gratings +opening into the convent was assembled the whole community of the Carmelites, +who listened to the divine service, and mingled their chant with the chant of +the priests, without seeing the profane, or being seen by them. +</p> + +<p> +At the door of the chapel D’Artagnan felt his courage fall anew, and returned +to look for Athos; but Athos had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Faithful to his mission of vengeance, Athos had requested to be conducted to +the garden; and there upon the sand following the light steps of this woman, +who left sharp tracks wherever she went, he advanced toward the gate which led +into the wood, and causing it to be opened, he went out into the forest. +</p> + +<p> +Then all his suspicions were confirmed; the road by which the carriage had +disappeared encircled the forest. Athos followed the road for some time, his +eyes fixed upon the ground; slight stains of blood, which came from the wound +inflicted upon the man who accompanied the carriage as a courier, or from one +of the horses, dotted the road. At the end of three-quarters of a league, +within fifty paces of Festubert, a larger bloodstain appeared; the ground was +trampled by horses. Between the forest and this accursed spot, a little behind +the trampled ground, was the same track of small feet as in the garden; the +carriage had stopped here. At this spot Milady had come out of the wood, and +entered the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Satisfied with this discovery which confirmed all his suspicions, Athos +returned to the hôtel, and found Planchet impatiently waiting for him. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was as Athos had foreseen. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet had followed the road; like Athos, he had discovered the stains of +blood; like Athos, he had noted the spot where the horses had halted. But he +had gone farther than Athos—for at the village of Festubert, while +drinking at an inn, he had learned without needing to ask a question that the +evening before, at half-past eight, a wounded man who accompanied a lady +traveling in a post-chaise had been obliged to stop, unable to go further. The +accident was set down to the account of robbers, who had stopped the chaise in +the wood. The man remained in the village; the woman had had a relay of horses, +and continued her journey. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet went in search of the postillion who had driven her, and found him. He +had taken the lady as far as Fromelles; and from Fromelles she had set out for +Armentières. Planchet took the crossroad, and by seven o’clock in the morning +he was at Armentières. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one tavern, the Post. Planchet went and presented himself as a +lackey out of a place, who was in search of a situation. He had not chatted ten +minutes with the people of the tavern before he learned that a woman had come +there alone about eleven o’clock the night before, had engaged a chamber, had +sent for the master of the hôtel, and told him she desired to remain some time +in the neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet had no need to learn more. He hastened to the rendezvous, found the +lackeys at their posts, placed them as sentinels at all the outlets of the +hôtel, and came to find Athos, who had just received this information when his +friends returned. +</p> + +<p> +All their countenances were melancholy and gloomy, even the mild countenance of +Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“What is to be done?” asked D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“To wait!” replied Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Each retired to his own apartment. +</p> + +<p> +At eight o’clock in the evening Athos ordered the horses to be saddled, and +Lord de Winter and his friends notified that they must prepare for the +expedition. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant all five were ready. Each examined his arms, and put them in +order. Athos came down last, and found D’Artagnan already on horseback, and +growing impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Patience!” cried Athos; “one of our party is still wanting.” +</p> + +<p> +The four horsemen looked round them with astonishment, for they sought vainly +in their minds to know who this other person could be. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Planchet brought out Athos’s horse; the Musketeer leaped lightly +into the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait for me,” cried he, “I will soon be back,” and he set off at a gallop. +</p> + +<p> +In a quarter of an hour he returned, accompanied by a tall man, masked, and +wrapped in a large red cloak. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter and the three Musketeers looked at one another inquiringly. +Neither could give the others any information, for all were ignorant who this +man could be; nevertheless, they felt convinced that all was as it should be, +as it was done by the order of Athos. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock, guided by Planchet, the little cavalcade set out, taking the +route the carriage had taken. +</p> + +<p> +It was a melancholy sight—that of these six men, traveling in silence, +each plunged in his own thoughts, sad as despair, gloomy as chastisement. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap65"></a>Chapter LXV.<br/> +TRIAL</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> was a stormy and dark night; vast clouds covered the +heavens, concealing the stars; the moon would not rise till midnight. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally, by the light of a flash of lightning which gleamed along the +horizon, the road stretched itself before them, white and solitary; the flash +extinct, all remained in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Every minute Athos was forced to restrain D’Artagnan, constantly in advance of +the little troop, and to beg him to keep in the line, which in an instant he +again departed from. He had but one thought—to go forward; and he went. +</p> + +<p> +They passed in silence through the little village of Festubert, where the +wounded servant was, and then skirted the wood of Richebourg. At Herlier, +Planchet, who led the column, turned to the left. +</p> + +<p> +Several times Lord de Winter, Porthos, or Aramis tried to talk with the man in +the red cloak; but to every interrogation which they put to him he bowed, +without response. The travelers then comprehended that there must be some +reason why the unknown preserved such a silence, and ceased to address +themselves to him. +</p> + +<p> +The storm increased, the flashes succeeded one another more rapidly, the +thunder began to growl, and the wind, the precursor of a hurricane, whistled in +the plumes and the hair of the horsemen. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalcade trotted on more sharply. +</p> + +<p> +A little before they came to Fromelles the storm burst. They spread their +cloaks. There remained three leagues to travel, and they did it amid torrents +of rain. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took off his hat, and could not be persuaded to make use of his +cloak. He found pleasure in feeling the water trickle over his burning brow and +over his body, agitated by feverish shudders. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the little troop passed Goskal and were approaching the Post, a man +sheltered beneath a tree detached himself from the trunk with which he had been +confounded in the darkness, and advanced into the middle of the road, putting +his finger on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Athos recognized Grimaud. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the manner?” cried Athos. “Has she left Armentières?” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative. D’Artagnan ground his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, D’Artagnan!” said Athos. “I have charged myself with this affair. It +is for me, then, to interrogate Grimaud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud extended his hands in the direction of the Lys. “Far from here?” asked +Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud showed his master his forefinger bent. +</p> + +<p> +“Alone?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud made the sign yes. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “she is alone within half a league of us, in the +direction of the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well,” said D’Artagnan. “Lead us, Grimaud.” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud took his course across the country, and acted as guide to the +cavalcade. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of five hundred paces, more or less, they came to a rivulet, which +they forded. +</p> + +<p> +By the aid of the lightning they perceived the village of Erquinheim. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she there, Grimaud?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud shook his head negatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, then!” cried Athos. +</p> + +<p> +And the troop continued their route. +</p> + +<p> +Another flash illuminated all around them. Grimaud extended his arm, and by the +bluish splendor of the fiery serpent they distinguished a little isolated house +on the banks of the river, within a hundred paces of a ferry. +</p> + +<p> +One window was lighted. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are!” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a man who had been crouching in a ditch jumped up and came +towards them. It was Mousqueton. He pointed his finger to the lighted window. +</p> + +<p> +“She is there,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“And Bazin?” asked Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“While I watched the window, he guarded the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Athos. “You are good and faithful servants.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos sprang from his horse, gave the bridle to Grimaud, and advanced toward +the window, after having made a sign to the rest of the troop to go toward the +door. +</p> + +<p> +The little house was surrounded by a low, quickset hedge, two or three feet +high. Athos sprang over the hedge and went up to the window, which was without +shutters, but had the half-curtains closely drawn. +</p> + +<p> +He mounted the skirting stone that his eyes might look over the curtain. +</p> + +<p> +By the light of a lamp he saw a woman, wrapped in a dark mantle, seated upon a +stool near a dying fire. Her elbows were placed upon a mean table, and she +leaned her head upon her two hands, which were white as ivory. +</p> + +<p> +He could not distinguish her countenance, but a sinister smile passed over the +lips of Athos. He was not deceived; it was she whom he sought. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a horse neighed. Milady raised her head, saw close to the panes +the pale face of Athos, and screamed. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, perceiving that she knew him, pushed the window with his knee and hand. +The window yielded. The squares were broken to shivers; and Athos, like the +spectre of vengeance, leaped into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Milady rushed to the door and opened it. More pale and menacing than Athos, +D’Artagnan stood on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Milady recoiled, uttering a cry. D’Artagnan, believing she might have means of +flight and fearing she should escape, drew a pistol from his belt; but Athos +raised his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Put back that weapon, D’Artagnan!” said he; “this woman must be tried, not +assassinated. Wait an instant, my friend, and you shall be satisfied. Come in, +gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan obeyed; for Athos had the solemn voice and the powerful gesture of a +judge sent by the Lord himself. Behind D’Artagnan entered Porthos, Aramis, Lord +de Winter, and the man in the red cloak. +</p> + +<p> +The four lackeys guarded the door and the window. +</p> + +<p> +Milady had sunk into a chair, with her hands extended, as if to conjure this +terrible apparition. Perceiving her brother-in-law, she uttered a terrible cry. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” screamed Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“We want,” said Athos, “Charlotte Backson, who first was called Comtesse de la +Fère, and afterwards Milady de Winter, Baroness of Sheffield.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is I! that is I!” murmured Milady, in extreme terror; “what do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“We wish to judge you according to your crime,” said Athos; “you shall be free +to defend yourself. Justify yourself if you can. M. d’Artagnan, it is for you +to accuse her first.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan advanced. +</p> + +<p> +“Before God and before men,” said he, “I accuse this woman of having poisoned +Constance Bonacieux, who died yesterday evening.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned towards Porthos and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“We bear witness to this,” said the two Musketeers, with one voice. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan continued: “Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having +attempted to poison me, in wine which she sent me from Villeroy, with a forged +letter, as if that wine came from my friends. God preserved me, but a man named +Brisemont died in my place.” +</p> + +<p> +“We bear witness to this,” said Porthos and Aramis, in the same manner as +before. +</p> + +<p> +“Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having urged me to the +murder of the Baron de Wardes; but as no one else can attest the truth of this +accusation, I attest it myself. I have done.” And D’Artagnan passed to the +other side of the room with Porthos and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Your turn, my Lord,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +The baron came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Before God and before men,” said he, “I accuse this woman of having caused the +assassination of the Duke of Buckingham.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Duke of Buckingham assassinated!” cried all present, with one voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the baron, “assassinated. On receiving the warning letter you wrote +to me, I had this woman arrested, and gave her in charge to a loyal servant. +She corrupted this man; she placed the poniard in his hand; she made him kill +the duke. And at this moment, perhaps, Felton is paying with his head for the +crime of this fury!” +</p> + +<p> +A shudder crept through the judges at the revelation of these unknown crimes. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not all,” resumed Lord de Winter. “My brother, who made you his heir, +died in three hours of a strange disorder which left livid traces all over the +body. My sister, how did your husband die?” +</p> + +<p> +“Horror!” cried Porthos and Aramis. +</p> + +<p> +“Assassin of Buckingham, assassin of Felton, assassin of my brother, I demand +justice upon you, and I swear that if it be not granted to me, I will execute +it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +And Lord de Winter ranged himself by the side of D’Artagnan, leaving the place +free for another accuser. +</p> + +<p> +Milady let her head sink between her two hands, and tried to recall her ideas, +whirling in a mortal vertigo. +</p> + +<p> +“My turn,” said Athos, himself trembling as the lion trembles at the sight of +the serpent—“my turn. I married that woman when she was a young girl; I +married her in opposition to the wishes of all my family; I gave her my wealth, +I gave her my name; and one day I discovered that this woman was +branded—this woman was marked with a <i>fleur-de-lis</i> on her left +shoulder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Milady, raising herself, “I defy you to find any tribunal which +pronounced that infamous sentence against me. I defy you to find him who +executed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said a hollow voice. “It is for me to reply to that!” And the man in +the red cloak came forward in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“What man is that? What man is that?” cried Milady, suffocated by terror, her +hair loosening itself, and rising above her livid countenance as if alive. +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were turned towards this man—for to all except Athos he was +unknown. +</p> + +<p> +Even Athos looked at him with as much stupefaction as the others, for he knew +not how he could in any way find himself mixed up with the horrible drama then +unfolded. +</p> + +<p> +After approaching Milady with a slow and solemn step, so that the table alone +separated them, the unknown took off his mask. +</p> + +<p> +Milady for some time examined with increasing terror that pale face, framed +with black hair and whiskers, the only expression of which was icy +impassibility. Then she suddenly cried, “Oh, no, no!” rising and retreating to +the very wall. “No, no! it is an infernal apparition! It is not he! Help, +help!” screamed she, turning towards the wall, as if she would tear an opening +with her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, then?” cried all the witnesses of this scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask that woman,” said the man in the red cloak, “for you may plainly see she +knows me!” +</p> + +<p> +“The executioner of Lille, the executioner of Lille!” cried Milady, a prey to +insensate terror, and clinging with her hands to the wall to avoid falling. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone drew back, and the man in the red cloak remained standing alone in +the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, grace, grace, pardon!” cried the wretch, falling on her knees. +</p> + +<p> +The unknown waited for silence, and then resumed, “I told you well that she +would know me. Yes, I am the executioner of Lille, and this is my history.” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were fixed upon this man, whose words were listened to with anxious +attention. +</p> + +<p> +“That woman was once a young girl, as beautiful as she is today. She was a nun +in the convent of the Benedictines of Templemar. A young priest, with a simple +and trustful heart, performed the duties of the church of that convent. She +undertook his seduction, and succeeded; she would have seduced a saint. +</p> + +<p> +“Their vows were sacred and irrevocable. Their connection could not last long +without ruining both. She prevailed upon him to leave the country; but to leave +the country, to fly together, to reach another part of France, where they might +live at ease because unknown, money was necessary. Neither had any. The priest +stole the sacred vases, and sold them; but as they were preparing to escape +together, they were both arrested. +</p> + +<p> +“Eight days later she had seduced the son of the jailer, and escaped. The young +priest was condemned to ten years of imprisonment, and to be branded. I was +executioner of the city of Lille, as this woman has said. I was obliged to +brand the guilty one; and he, gentlemen, was my brother! +</p> + +<p> +“I then swore that this woman who had ruined him, who was more than his +accomplice, since she had urged him to the crime, should at least share his +punishment. I suspected where she was concealed. I followed her, I caught her, +I bound her; and I imprinted the same disgraceful mark upon her that I had +imprinted upon my poor brother. +</p> + +<p> +“The day after my return to Lille, my brother in his turn succeeded in making +his escape; I was accused of complicity, and was condemned to remain in his +place till he should be again a prisoner. My poor brother was ignorant of this +sentence. He rejoined this woman; they fled together into Berry, and there he +obtained a little curacy. This woman passed for his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord of the estate on which the chapel of the curacy was situated saw this +pretend sister, and became enamoured of her—amorous to such a degree that +he proposed to marry her. Then she quitted him she had ruined for him she was +destined to ruin, and became the Comtesse de la Fère—” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were turned towards Athos, whose real name that was, and who made a +sign with his head that all was true which the executioner had said. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” resumed he, “mad, desperate, determined to get rid of an existence from +which she had stolen everything, honor and happiness, my poor brother returned +to Lille, and learning the sentence which had condemned me in his place, +surrendered himself, and hanged himself that same night from the iron bar of +the loophole of his prison. +</p> + +<p> +“To do justice to them who had condemned me, they kept their word. As soon as +the identity of my brother was proved, I was set at liberty. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the crime of which I accuse her; that is the cause for which she was +branded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Athos, “what is the penalty you demand against this +woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“The punishment of death,” replied D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord de Winter,” continued Athos, “what is the penalty you demand against +this woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“The punishment of death,” replied Lord de Winter. +</p> + +<p> +“Messieurs Porthos and Aramis,” repeated Athos, “you who are her judges, what +is the sentence you pronounce upon this woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“The punishment of death,” replied the Musketeers, in a hollow voice. +</p> + +<p> +Milady uttered a frightful shriek, and dragged herself along several paces upon +her knees toward her judges. +</p> + +<p> +Athos stretched out his hand toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“Charlotte Backson, Comtesse de la Fère, Milady de Winter,” said he, “your +crimes have wearied men on earth and God in heaven. If you know a prayer, say +it—for you are condemned, and you shall die.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words, which left no hope, Milady raised herself in all her pride, and +wished to speak; but her strength failed her. She felt that a powerful and +implacable hand seized her by the hair, and dragged her away as irrevocably as +fatality drags humanity. She did not, therefore, even attempt the least +resistance, and went out of the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter, D’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, went out close behind +her. The lackeys followed their masters, and the chamber was left solitary, +with its broken window, its open door, and its smoky lamp burning sadly on the +table. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap66"></a>Chapter LXVI.<br/> +EXECUTION</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">I</span><span +class="dropspan">t</span> was near midnight; the moon, lessened by its decline, +and reddened by the last traces of the storm, arose behind the little town of +Armentières, which showed against its pale light the dark outline of its +houses, and the skeleton of its high belfry. In front of them the Lys rolled +its waters like a river of molten tin; while on the other side was a black mass +of trees, profiled on a stormy sky, invaded by large coppery clouds which +created a sort of twilight amid the night. On the left was an old abandoned +mill, with its motionless wings, from the ruins of which an owl threw out its +shrill, periodical, and monotonous cry. On the right and on the left of the +road, which the dismal procession pursued, appeared a few low, stunted trees, +which looked like deformed dwarfs crouching down to watch men traveling at this +sinister hour. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time a broad sheet of lightning opened the horizon in its whole +width, darted like a serpent over the black mass of trees, and like a terrible +scimitar divided the heavens and the waters into two parts. Not a breath of +wind now disturbed the heavy atmosphere. A deathlike silence oppressed all +nature. The soil was humid and glittering with the rain which had recently +fallen, and the refreshed herbs sent forth their perfume with additional +energy. +</p> + +<p> +Two lackeys dragged Milady, whom each held by one arm. The executioner walked +behind them, and Lord de Winter, D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis walked behind +the executioner. Planchet and Bazin came last. +</p> + +<p> +The two lackeys conducted Milady to the bank of the river. Her mouth was mute; +but her eyes spoke with their inexpressible eloquence, supplicating by turns +each of those on whom she looked. +</p> + +<p> +Being a few paces in advance she whispered to the lackeys, “A thousand pistoles +to each of you, if you will assist my escape; but if you deliver me up to your +masters, I have near at hand avengers who will make you pay dearly for my +death.” +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud hesitated. Mousqueton trembled in all his members. +</p> + +<p> +Athos, who heard Milady’s voice, came sharply up. Lord de Winter did the same. +</p> + +<p> +“Change these lackeys,” said he; “she has spoken to them. They are no longer +sure.” +</p> + +<p> +Planchet and Bazin were called, and took the places of Grimaud and Mousqueton. +</p> + +<p> +On the bank of the river the executioner approached Milady, and bound her hands +and feet. +</p> + +<p> +Then she broke the silence to cry out, “You are cowards, miserable +assassins—ten men combined to murder one woman. Beware! If I am not saved +I shall be avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not a woman,” said Athos, coldly and sternly. “You do not belong to +the human species; you are a demon escaped from hell, whither we send you back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you virtuous men!” said Milady; “please to remember that he who shall +touch a hair of my head is himself an assassin.” +</p> + +<p> +“The executioner may kill, without being on that account an assassin,” said the +man in the red cloak, rapping upon his immense sword. “This is the last judge; +that is all. <i>Nachrichter</i>, as say our neighbors, the Germans.” +</p> + +<p> +And as he bound her while saying these words, Milady uttered two or three +savage cries, which produced a strange and melancholy effect in flying away +into the night, and losing themselves in the depths of the woods. +</p> + +<p> +“If I am guilty, if I have committed the crimes you accuse me of,” shrieked +Milady, “take me before a tribunal. You are not judges! You cannot condemn me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I offered you Tyburn,” said Lord de Winter. “Why did you not accept it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am not willing to die!” cried Milady, struggling. “Because I am too +young to die!” +</p> + +<p> +“The woman you poisoned at Béthune was still younger than you, madame, and yet +she is dead,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I will enter a cloister; I will become a nun,” said Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“You were in a cloister,” said the executioner, “and you left it to ruin my +brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Milady uttered a cry of terror and sank upon her knees. The executioner took +her up in his arms and was carrying her toward the boat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” cried she, “my God! are you going to drown me?” +</p> + +<p> +These cries had something so heartrending in them that M. d’Artagnan, who had +been at first the most eager in pursuit of Milady, sat down on the stump of a +tree and hung his head, covering his ears with the palms of his hands; and yet, +notwithstanding, he could still hear her cry and threaten. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan was the youngest of all these men. His heart failed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I cannot behold this frightful spectacle!” said he. “I cannot consent that +this woman should die thus!” +</p> + +<p> +Milady heard these few words and caught at a shadow of hope. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Artagnan, D’Artagnan!” cried she; “remember that I loved you!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man rose and took a step toward her. +</p> + +<p> +But Athos rose likewise, drew his sword, and placed himself in the way. +</p> + +<p> +“If you take one step farther, D’Artagnan,” said he, “we shall cross swords +together.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan sank on his knees and prayed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” continued Athos, “executioner, do your duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly, monseigneur,” said the executioner; “for as I am a good Catholic, I +firmly believe I am acting justly in performing my functions on this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos made a step toward Milady. +</p> + +<p> +“I pardon you,” said he, “the ill you have done me. I pardon you for my blasted +future, my lost honor, my defiled love, and my salvation forever compromised by +the despair into which you have cast me. Die in peace!” +</p> + +<p> +Lord de Winter advanced in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“I pardon you,” said he, “for the poisoning of my brother, and the +assassination of his Grace, Lord Buckingham. I pardon you for the death of poor +Felton; I pardon you for the attempts upon my own person. Die in peace!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said M. d’Artagnan. “Pardon me, madame, for having by a trick unworthy +of a gentleman provoked your anger; and I, in exchange, pardon you the murder +of my poor love and your cruel vengeance against me. I pardon you, and I weep +for you. Die in peace!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am lost!” murmured Milady in English. “I must die!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she arose of herself, and cast around her one of those piercing looks +which seemed to dart from an eye of flame. +</p> + +<p> +She saw nothing; she listened, and she heard nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I to die?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“On the other bank,” replied the executioner. +</p> + +<p> +Then he placed her in the boat, and as he was going to set foot in it himself, +Athos handed him a sum of silver. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said he, “is the price of the execution, that it may be plain we act as +judges.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is correct,” said the executioner; “and now in her turn, let this woman +see that I am not fulfilling my trade, but my debt.” +</p> + +<p> +And he threw the money into the river. +</p> + +<p> +The boat moved off toward the left-hand shore of the Lys, bearing the guilty +woman and the executioner; all the others remained on the right-hand bank, +where they fell on their knees. +</p> + +<p> +The boat glided along the ferry rope under the shadow of a pale cloud which +hung over the water at that moment. +</p> + +<p> +The troop of friends saw it gain the opposite bank; the figures were defined +like black shadows on the red-tinted horizon. +</p> + +<p> +Milady, during the passage had contrived to untie the cord which fastened her +feet. On coming near the bank, she jumped lightly on shore and took to flight. +But the soil was moist; on reaching the top of the bank, she slipped and fell +upon her knees. +</p> + +<p> +She was struck, no doubt, with a superstitious idea; she conceived that heaven +denied its aid, and she remained in the attitude in which she had fallen, her +head drooping and her hands clasped. +</p> + +<p> +Then they saw from the other bank the executioner raise both his arms slowly; a +moonbeam fell upon the blade of the large sword. The two arms fell with a +sudden force; they heard the hissing of the scimitar and the cry of the victim, +then a truncated mass sank beneath the blow. +</p> + +<p> +The executioner then took off his red cloak, spread it upon the ground, laid +the body in it, threw in the head, tied all up by the four corners, lifted it +on his back, and entered the boat again. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of the stream he stopped the boat, and suspending his burden over +the water cried in a loud voice, “Let the justice of God be done!” and he let +the corpse drop into the depths of the waters, which closed over it. +</p> + +<p> +Three days afterward the four Musketeers were in Paris; they had not exceeded +their leave of absence, and that same evening they went to pay their customary +visit to M. de Tréville. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, gentlemen,” said the brave captain, “I hope you have been well amused +during your excursion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prodigiously,” replied Athos in the name of himself and his comrades. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap67"></a>Chapter LXVII.<br/> +CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">O</span><span +class="dropspan">n</span> the sixth of the following month the king, in +compliance with the promise he had made the cardinal to return to La Rochelle, +left his capital still in amazement at the news which began to spread itself of +Buckingham’s assassination. +</p> + +<p> +Although warned that the man she had loved so much was in great danger, the +queen, when his death was announced to her, would not believe the fact, and +even imprudently exclaimed, “it is false; he has just written to me!” +</p> + +<p> +But the next day she was obliged to believe this fatal intelligence; Laporte, +detained in England, as everyone else had been, by the orders of Charles I., +arrived, and was the bearer of the duke’s dying gift to the queen. +</p> + +<p> +The joy of the king was lively. He did not even give himself the trouble to +dissemble, and displayed it with affectation before the queen. Louis XIII., like +every weak mind, was wanting in generosity. +</p> + +<p> +But the king soon again became dull and indisposed; his brow was not one of +those that long remain clear. He felt that in returning to camp he should +re-enter slavery; nevertheless, he did return. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal was for him the fascinating serpent, and himself the bird which +flies from branch to branch without power to escape. +</p> + +<p> +The return to La Rochelle, therefore, was profoundly dull. Our four friends, in +particular, astonished their comrades; they traveled together, side by side, +with sad eyes and heads lowered. Athos alone from time to time raised his +expansive brow; a flash kindled in his eyes, and a bitter smile passed over his +lips, then, like his comrades, he sank again into reverie. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the escort arrived in a city, when they had conducted the king to +his quarters the four friends either retired to their own or to some secluded +cabaret, where they neither drank nor played; they only conversed in a low +voice, looking around attentively to see that no one overheard them. +</p> + +<p> +One day, when the king had halted to fly the magpie, and the four friends, +according to their custom, instead of following the sport had stopped at a +cabaret on the high road, a man coming from la Rochelle on horseback pulled up +at the door to drink a glass of wine, and darted a searching glance into the +room where the four Musketeers were sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“Holloa, Monsieur d’Artagnan!” said he, “is not that you whom I see yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan raised his head and uttered a cry of joy. It was the man he called +his phantom; it was his stranger of Meung, of the Rue des Fossoyeurs and of +Arras. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan drew his sword, and sprang toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +But this time, instead of avoiding him the stranger jumped from his horse, and +advanced to meet D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur!” said the young man, “I meet you, then, at last! This time you +shall not escape me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither is it my intention, monsieur, for this time I was seeking you; in the +name of the king, I arrest you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! what do you say?” cried D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“I say that you must surrender your sword to me, monsieur, and that without +resistance. This concerns your head, I warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, then?” demanded D’Artagnan, lowering the point of his sword, but +without yet surrendering it. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Chevalier de Rochefort,” answered the other, “the equerry of Monsieur +le Cardinal Richelieu, and I have orders to conduct you to his Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are returning to his Eminence, monsieur the Chevalier,” said Athos, +advancing; “and you will please to accept the word of Monsieur d’Artagnan that +he will go straight to La Rochelle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must place him in the hands of guards who will take him into camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will be his guards, monsieur, upon our word as gentlemen; but likewise, +upon our word as gentlemen,” added Athos, knitting his brow, “Monsieur +d’Artagnan shall not leave us.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chevalier de Rochefort cast a glance backward, and saw that Porthos and +Aramis had placed themselves between him and the gate; he understood that he +was completely at the mercy of these four men. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said he, “if Monsieur d’Artagnan will surrender his sword to me +and join his word to yours, I shall be satisfied with your promise to convey +Monsieur d’Artagnan to the quarters of Monseigneur the Cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have my word, monsieur, and here is my sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“This suits me the better,” said Rochefort, “as I wish to continue my journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it is for the purpose of rejoining Milady,” said Athos, coolly, “it is +useless; you will not find her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of her, then?” asked Rochefort, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Return to camp and you shall know.” +</p> + +<p> +Rochefort remained for a moment in thought; then, as they were only a day’s +journey from Surgères, whither the cardinal was to come to meet the king, he +resolved to follow the advice of Athos and go with them. Besides, this return +offered him the advantage of watching his prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +They resumed their route. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, at three o’clock in the afternoon, they arrived at Surgères. The +cardinal there awaited Louis XIII. The minister and the king exchanged numerous +caresses, felicitating each other upon the fortunate chance which had freed +France from the inveterate enemy who set all Europe against her. After which, +the cardinal, who had been informed that D’Artagnan was arrested and who was +anxious to see him, took leave of the king, inviting him to come the next day +to view the work already done upon the dyke. +</p> + +<p> +On returning in the evening to his quarters at the bridge of La Pierre, the +cardinal found, standing before the house he occupied, D’Artagnan, without his +sword, and the three Musketeers armed. +</p> + +<p> +This time, as he was well attended, he looked at them sternly, and made a sign +with his eye and hand for D’Artagnan to follow him. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall wait for you, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, loud enough for the cardinal +to hear him. +</p> + +<p> +His Eminence bent his brow, stopped for an instant, and then kept on his way +without uttering a single word. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan entered after the cardinal, and behind D’Artagnan the door was +guarded. +</p> + +<p> +His Eminence entered the chamber which served him as a study, and made a sign +to Rochefort to bring in the young Musketeer. +</p> + +<p> +Rochefort obeyed and retired. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan remained alone in front of the cardinal; this was his second +interview with Richelieu, and he afterward confessed that he felt well assured +it would be his last. +</p> + +<p> +Richelieu remained standing, leaning against the mantelpiece; a table was +between him and D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, “you have been arrested by my orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they tell me, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know why?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur, for the only thing for which I could be arrested is still +unknown to your Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +Richelieu looked steadfastly at the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Holloa!” said he, “what does that mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Monseigneur will have the goodness to tell me, in the first place, what +crimes are imputed to me, I will then tell him the deeds I have really done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Crimes are imputed to you which had brought down far loftier heads than yours, +monsieur,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“What, monseigneur?” said D’Artagnan, with a calmness which astonished the +cardinal himself. +</p> + +<p> +“You are charged with having corresponded with the enemies of the kingdom; you +are charged with having surprised state secrets; you are charged with having +tried to thwart the plans of your general.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who charges me with this, monseigneur?” said D’Artagnan, who had no doubt +the accusation came from Milady, “a woman branded by the justice of the +country; a woman who has espoused one man in France and another in England; a +woman who poisoned her second husband and who attempted both to poison and +assassinate me!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say, monsieur?” cried the cardinal, astonished; “and of what woman +are you speaking thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Milady de Winter,” replied D’Artagnan, “yes, of Milady de Winter, of whose +crimes your Eminence is doubtless ignorant, since you have honored her with +your confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, “if Milady de Winter has committed the crimes +you lay to her charge, she shall be punished.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has been punished, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who has punished her?” +</p> + +<p> +“We.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is in prison?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” repeated the cardinal, who could not believe what he heard, “dead! Did +you not say she was dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three times she attempted to kill me, and I pardoned her; but she murdered the +woman I loved. Then my friends and I took her, tried her, and condemned her.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan then related the poisoning of Mme. Bonacieux in the convent of the +Carmelites at Béthune, the trial in the isolated house, and the execution on +the banks of the Lys. +</p> + +<p> +A shudder crept through the body of the cardinal, who did not shudder readily. +</p> + +<p> +But all at once, as if undergoing the influence of an unspoken thought, the +countenance of the cardinal, till then gloomy, cleared up by degrees, and +recovered perfect serenity. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” said the cardinal, in a tone that contrasted strongly with the severity +of his words, “you have constituted yourselves judges, without remembering that +they who punish without license to punish are assassins?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I swear to you that I never for an instant had the intention of +defending my head against you. I willingly submit to any punishment your +Eminence may please to inflict upon me. I do not hold life dear enough to be +afraid of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know you are a man of a stout heart, monsieur,” said the cardinal, with +a voice almost affectionate; “I can therefore tell you beforehand you shall be +tried, and even condemned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another might reply to your Eminence that he had his pardon in his pocket. I +content myself with saying: Command, monseigneur; I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon?” said Richelieu, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“And signed by whom—by the king?” And the cardinal pronounced these words +with a singular expression of contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“No, by your Eminence.” +</p> + +<p> +“By me? You are insane, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur will doubtless recognize his own handwriting.” +</p> + +<p> +And D’Artagnan presented to the cardinal the precious piece of paper which +Athos had forced from Milady, and which he had given to D’Artagnan to serve him +as a safeguard. +</p> + +<p> +His Eminence took the paper, and read in a slow voice, dwelling upon every +syllable: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Dec. 3, 1627 +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this has +done what he has done. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“R<small>ICHELIEU</small>” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal, after having read these two lines, sank into a profound reverie; +but he did not return the paper to D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“He is meditating by what sort of punishment he shall cause me to die,” said +the Gascon to himself. “Well, my faith! he shall see how a gentleman can die.” +</p> + +<p> +The young Musketeer was in excellent disposition to die heroically. +</p> + +<p> +Richelieu still continued thinking, rolling and unrolling the paper in his +hands. +</p> + +<p> +At length he raised his head, fixed his eagle look upon that loyal, open, and +intelligent countenance, read upon that face, furrowed with tears, all the +sufferings its possessor had endured in the course of a month, and reflected +for the third or fourth time how much there was in that youth of twenty-one +years before him, and what resources his activity, his courage, and his +shrewdness might offer to a good master. On the other side, the crimes, the +power, and the infernal genius of Milady had more than once terrified him. He +felt something like a secret joy at being forever relieved of this dangerous +accomplice. +</p> + +<p> +Richelieu slowly tore the paper which D’Artagnan had generously relinquished. +</p> + +<p> +“I am lost!” said D’Artagnan to himself. And he bowed profoundly before the +cardinal, like a man who says, “Lord, Thy will be done!” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal approached the table, and without sitting down, wrote a few lines +upon a parchment of which two-thirds were already filled, and affixed his seal. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my condemnation,” thought D’Artagnan; “he will spare me the +<i>ennui</i> of the Bastille, or the tediousness of a trial. That’s very kind +of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, monsieur,” said the cardinal to the young man. “I have taken from you +one <i>carte blanche</i> to give you another. The name is wanting in this +commission; you can write it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took the paper hesitatingly and cast his eyes over it; it was a +lieutenant’s commission in the Musketeers. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan fell at the feet of the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said he, “my life is yours; henceforth dispose of it. But this +favor which you bestow upon me I do not merit. I have three friends who are +more meritorious and more worthy—” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a brave youth, D’Artagnan,” interrupted the cardinal, tapping him +familiarly on the shoulder, charmed at having vanquished this rebellious +nature. “Do with this commission what you will; only remember, though the name +be blank, it is to you I give it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never forget it,” replied D’Artagnan. “Your Eminence may be certain of +that.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal turned and said in a loud voice, “Rochefort!” The chevalier, who +no doubt was near the door, entered immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“Rochefort,” said the cardinal, “you see Monsieur d’Artagnan. I receive him +among the number of my friends. Greet each other, then; and be wise if you wish +to preserve your heads.” +</p> + +<p> +Rochefort and D’Artagnan coolly greeted each other with their lips; but the +cardinal was there, observing them with his vigilant eye. +</p> + +<p> +They left the chamber at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall meet again, shall we not, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“When you please,” said D’Artagnan. +</p> + +<p> +“An opportunity will come,” replied Rochefort. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey?” said the cardinal, opening the door. +</p> + +<p> +The two men smiled at each other, shook hands, and saluted his Eminence. +</p> + +<p> +“We were beginning to grow impatient,” said Athos. +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am, my friends,” replied D’Artagnan; “not only free, but in favor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“This evening; but for the moment, let us separate.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, that same evening D’Artagnan repaired to the quarters of Athos, +whom he found in a fair way to empty a bottle of Spanish wine—an +occupation which he religiously accomplished every night. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related what had taken place between the cardinal and himself, and +drawing the commission from his pocket, said, “Here, my dear Athos, this +naturally belongs to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Athos smiled with one of his sweet and expressive smiles. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said he, “for Athos this is too much; for the Comte de la Fère it is +too little. Keep the commission; it is yours. Alas! you have purchased it +dearly enough.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan left Athos’s chamber and went to that of Porthos. He found him +clothed in a magnificent dress covered with splendid embroidery, admiring +himself before a glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! is that you, dear friend?” exclaimed Porthos. “How do you think these +garments fit me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderfully,” said D’Artagnan; “but I come to offer you a dress which will +become you still better.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Porthos. +</p> + +<p> +“That of a lieutenant of Musketeers.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan related to Porthos the substance of his interview with the cardinal, +and said, taking the commission from his pocket, “Here, my friend, write your +name upon it and become my chief.” +</p> + +<p> +Porthos cast his eyes over the commission and returned it to D’Artagnan, to the +great astonishment of the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “yes, that would flatter me very much; but I should not have +time enough to enjoy the distinction. During our expedition to Béthune the +husband of my duchess died; so, my dear, the coffer of the defunct holding out +its arms to me, I shall marry the widow. Look here! I was trying on my wedding +suit. Keep the lieutenancy, my dear, keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man then entered the apartment of Aramis. He found him kneeling +before a <i>priedieu</i>, with his head leaning on an open prayer book. +</p> + +<p> +He described to him his interview with the cardinal, and said, for the third +time drawing his commission from his pocket, “You, our friend, our +intelligence, our invisible protector, accept this commission. You have merited +it more than any of us by your wisdom and your counsels, always followed by +such happy results.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, dear friend!” said Aramis, “our late adventures have disgusted me with +military life. This time my determination is irrevocably taken. After the siege +I shall enter the house of the Lazarists. Keep the commission, D’Artagnan; the +profession of arms suits you. You will be a brave and adventurous captain.” +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan, his eye moist with gratitude though beaming with joy, went back to +Athos, whom he found still at table contemplating the charms of his last glass +of Malaga by the light of his lamp. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, “they likewise have refused me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, dear friend, is because nobody is more worthy than yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a quill, wrote the name of D’Artagnan in the commission, and returned +it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall then have no more friends,” said the young man. “Alas! nothing but +bitter recollections.” +</p> + +<p> +And he let his head sink upon his hands, while two large tears rolled down his +cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“You are young,” replied Athos; “and your bitter recollections have time to +change themselves into sweet remembrances.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap68"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 3.00em">L</span><span +class="dropspan">a Rochelle</span>, deprived of the assistance of the English +fleet and of the diversion promised by Buckingham, surrendered after a siege of +a year. On the twenty-eighth of October, 1628, the capitulation was signed. +</p> + +<p> +The king made his entrance into Paris on the twenty-third of December of the +same year. He was received in triumph, as if he came from conquering an enemy +and not Frenchmen. He entered by the Faubourg St. Jacques, under verdant +arches. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan took possession of his command. Porthos left the service, and in the +course of the following year married Mme. Coquenard; the coffer so much coveted +contained eight hundred thousand livres. +</p> + +<p> +Mousqueton had a magnificent livery, and enjoyed the satisfaction of which he +had been ambitious all his life—that of standing behind a gilded +carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Aramis, after a journey into Lorraine, disappeared all at once, and ceased to +write to his friends; they learned at a later period through Mme. de Chevreuse, +who told it to two or three of her intimates, that, yielding to his vocation, +he had retired into a convent—only into which, nobody knew. +</p> + +<p> +Bazin became a lay brother. +</p> + +<p> +Athos remained a Musketeer under the command of D’Artagnan till the year 1633, +at which period, after a journey he made to Touraine, he also quit the service, +under the pretext of having inherited a small property in Roussillon. +</p> + +<p> +Grimaud followed Athos. +</p> + +<p> +D’Artagnan fought three times with Rochefort, and wounded him three times. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall probably kill you the fourth,” said he to him, holding out his hand to +assist him to rise. +</p> + +<p> +“It is much better both for you and for me to stop where we are,” answered the +wounded man. “<i>Corbleu!</i> I am more your friend than you think—for +after our very first encounter, I could by saying a word to the cardinal have +had your throat cut!” +</p> + +<p> +They this time embraced heartily, and without retaining any malice. +</p> + +<p> +Planchet obtained from Rochefort the rank of sergeant in the Piedmont regiment. +</p> + +<p> +M. Bonacieux lived on very quietly, wholly ignorant of what had become of his +wife, and caring very little about it. One day he had the imprudence to recall +himself to the memory of the cardinal. The cardinal had him informed that he +would provide for him so that he should never want for anything in future. In +fact, M. Bonacieux, having left his house at seven o’clock in the evening to go +to the Louvre, never appeared again in the Rue des Fossoyeurs; the opinion of +those who seemed to be best informed was that he was fed and lodged in some +royal castle, at the expense of his generous Eminence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1257 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |