The three musketeers
Tréville—you know how I delight in accounts of war and fighting.”
And Louis XIII. twisted his mustache proudly, placing his hand upon his
hip.
“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.”
“So you may plainly see, Tréville,” interrupted the king, “it was they
who attacked?”
“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.”
“Brave young man!” murmured the king.
“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.”
“He who wounded Jussac!” cried the king, “he, a boy! Tréville, that’s
impossible!”
“It is as I have the honor to relate it to your Majesty.”
“Jussac, one of the first swordsmen in the kingdom?”
“Well, sire, for once he found his master.”
“I will see this young man, Tréville—I will see him; and if anything
can be done—well, we will make it our business.”
“When will your Majesty deign to receive him?”
“Tomorrow, at midday, Tréville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“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.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You understand, Tréville—an edict is still an edict, it is forbidden
to fight, after all.”
“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.”
“That is true,” said the king; “but never mind, Tréville, come still by
the back staircase.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
“_Pardieu_,” resumed the latter, twisting his mustache, “look at me as
long as you like, my little gentleman! I have said what I have said.”
“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.”
“And when?” asked the Guardsman, with the same jeering air.
“At once, if you please.”
“And you know who I am, without doubt?”
“I? I am completely ignorant; nor does it much disquiet me.”
“You’re in the wrong there; for if you knew my name, perhaps you would
not be so pressing.”
“What is your name?”
“Bernajoux, at your service.”
“Well, then, Monsieur Bernajoux,” said D’Artagnan, tranquilly, “I will
wait for you at the door.”
“Go, monsieur, I will follow you.”
“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.”
“That’s true,” said the Guardsman, astonished that his name had not
produced more effect upon the young man.
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.
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!”
“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.”
“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!”
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.
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!”
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 _mêlée_ 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.
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 _sortie_ 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.
“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.”
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.
“Had his Majesty,” asked he, “any intention of holding this hunting
party yesterday?”
“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.