The three musketeers
“Very well. As soon as the siege is over, we’ll carry her off from that
convent.”
“But we must first learn what convent she is in.”
“That’s true,” said Porthos.
“But I think I have it,” said Athos. “Don’t you say, dear D’Artagnan,
that it is the queen who has made choice of the convent for her?”
“I believe so, at least.”
“In that case Porthos will assist us.”
“And how so, if you please?”
“Why, by your marchioness, your duchess, your princess. She must have a
long arm.”
“Hush!” said Porthos, placing a finger on his lips. “I believe her to
be a cardinalist; she must know nothing of the matter.”
“Then,” said Aramis, “I take upon myself to obtain intelligence of
her.”
“You, Aramis?” cried the three friends. “You! And how?”
“By the queen’s almoner, to whom I am very intimately allied,” said
Aramis, coloring.
And on this assurance, the four friends, who had finished their modest
repast, separated, with the promise of meeting again that evening.
D’Artagnan returned to less important affairs, and the three Musketeers
repaired to the king’s quarters, where they had to prepare their
lodging.
Chapter XLIII.
THE SIGN OF THE RED DOVECOT
Meanwhile the king, who, with more reason than the cardinal, showed his
hatred for Buckingham, although scarcely arrived was in such a haste to
meet the enemy that he commanded every disposition to be made to drive
the English from the Isle of 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.
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.
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.
As soon as this organization was established, they set about driving
the English from the Isle.
The juncture was favorable. The English, who require, above everything,
good living in order to be good soldiers, only eating salt meat and bad
biscuit, had many invalids in their camp. Still further, the sea, very
rough at this period of the year all along the sea coast, destroyed
every day some little vessel; and the shore, from the point of
l’Aiguillon to the trenches, was at every tide literally covered with
the wrecks of pinnacles, _roberges_, and feluccas. The result was that
even if the king’s troops remained quietly in their camp, it was
evident that some day or other, Buckingham, who only continued in the
Isle from obstinacy, would be obliged to raise the siege.
But as M. de Toiras gave information that everything was preparing in
the enemy’s camp for a fresh assault, the king judged that it would be
best to put an end to the affair, and gave the necessary orders for a
decisive action.
As it is not our intention to give a journal of the siege, but on the
contrary only to describe such of the events of it as are connected
with the story we are relating, we will content ourselves with saying
in two words that the 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.
Te Deums were chanted in camp, and afterward throughout France.
The cardinal was left free to carry on the siege, without having, at
least at the present, anything to fear on the part of the English.
But it must be acknowledged, this response was but momentary. An envoy
of the Duke of Buckingham, named Montague, was taken, and proof was
obtained of a league between the German Empire, Spain, England, and
Lorraine. This league was directed against France.
Still further, in Buckingham’s lodging, which he had been forced to
abandon more precipitately than he expected, papers were found which
confirmed this alliance and which, as the cardinal asserts in his
memoirs, strongly compromised Mme. de Chevreuse and consequently the
queen.
It was upon the cardinal that all the responsibility fell, for one is
not a despotic minister without responsibility. All, therefore, of the
vast resources of his genius were at work night and day, engaged in
listening to the least report heard in any of the great kingdoms of
Europe.
The cardinal was acquainted with the activity, and more particularly
the hatred, of Buckingham. If the league which threatened France
triumphed, all his influence would be lost. Spanish policy and Austrian
policy would have their representatives in the cabinet of the Louvre,
where they had as yet but partisans; and he, Richelieu—the French
minister, the national minister—would be ruined. The king, even while
obeying him like a child, hated him as a child hates his master, and
would abandon him to the personal vengeance of Monsieur and the queen.
He would then be lost, and France, perhaps, with him. All this must be
prepared against.
Courtiers, becoming every instant more numerous, succeeded one another,
day and night, in the little house of the bridge of La Pierre, in which
the cardinal had established his residence.
There were monks who wore the frock with such an ill grace that it was
easy to perceive they belonged to the church militant; women a little
inconvenienced by their costume as pages and whose large trousers could
not entirely conceal their rounded forms; and peasants with blackened
hands but with fine limbs, savoring of the man of quality a league off.
There were also less agreeable visits—for two or three times reports
were spread that the cardinal had nearly been assassinated.
It is true that the enemies of the cardinal said that it was he himself
who set these bungling assassins to work, in order to have, if wanted,
the right of using reprisals; but we must not believe everything
ministers say, nor everything their enemies say.
These attempts did not prevent the cardinal, to whom his most
inveterate detractors have never denied personal bravery, from making
nocturnal excursions, sometimes to communicate to the Duc d’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.
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.
Now, one evening when D’Artagnan, who was in the trenches, was not able
to accompany them, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, mounted on their battle
steeds, enveloped in their war cloaks, with their hands upon their
pistol butts, were returning from a drinking place called the Red
Dovecot, which Athos had discovered two days before upon the route to
Jarrie, following the road which led to the camp and quite on their
guard, as we have stated, for fear of an ambuscade, when, about a
quarter of a league from the village of Boisnau, they fancied they
heard the sound of horses approaching them. They immediately all three
halted, closed in, and waited, occupying the middle of the road. In an
instant, and as the moon broke from behind a cloud, they saw at a
turning of the road two horsemen who, on perceiving them, stopped in
their turn, appearing to deliberate whether they should continue their
route or go back. The hesitation created some suspicion in the three
friends, and Athos, advancing a few paces in front of the others, cried
in a firm voice, “Who goes there?”
“Who goes there, yourselves?” replied one of the horsemen.
“That is not an answer,” replied Athos. “Who goes there? Answer, or we
charge.”
“Beware of what you are about, gentlemen!” said a clear voice which
seemed accustomed to command.
“It is some superior officer making his night rounds,” said Athos.
“What do you wish, gentlemen?”
“Who are you?” said the same voice, in the same commanding tone.
“Answer in your turn, or you may repent of your disobedience.”
“King’s Musketeers,” said Athos, more and more convinced that he who
interrogated them had the right to do so.
“What company?”
“Company of Tréville.”
“Advance, and give an account of what you are doing here at this hour.”
The three companions advanced rather humbly—for all were now convinced
that they had to do with someone more powerful than themselves—leaving
Athos the post of speaker.
One of the two riders, he who had spoken second, was ten paces in front
of his companion. Athos made a sign to Porthos and Aramis also to
remain in the rear, and advanced alone.
“Your pardon, my officer,” said Athos; “but we were ignorant with whom
we had to do, and you may see that we were keeping good guard.”
“Your name?” said the officer, who covered a part of his face with his
cloak.
“But yourself, monsieur,” said Athos, who began to be annoyed by this
inquisition, “give me, I beg you, the proof that you have the right to
question me.”
“Your name?” repeated the cavalier a second time, letting his cloak
fall, and leaving his face uncovered.
“Monsieur the Cardinal!” cried the stupefied Musketeer.
“Your name?” cried his Eminence, for the third time.
“Athos,” said the Musketeer.
The cardinal made a sign to his attendant, who drew near. “These three
Musketeers shall follow us,” said he, in an undertone. “I am not
willing it should be known I have left the camp; and if they follow us
we shall be certain they will tell nobody.”
“We are gentlemen, monseigneur,” said Athos; “require our parole, and
give yourself no uneasiness. Thank God, we can keep a secret.”
The cardinal fixed his piercing eyes on this courageous speaker.
“You have a quick ear, Monsieur Athos,” said the cardinal; “but now
listen to this. It is not from mistrust that I request you to follow
me, but for my security. Your companions are no doubt Messieurs Porthos
and Aramis.”
“Yes, your Eminence,” said Athos, while the two Musketeers who had
remained behind advanced hat in hand.
“I know you, gentlemen,” said the cardinal, “I know you. I know you are
not quite my friends, and I am sorry you are not so; but I know you are
brave and loyal gentlemen, and that confidence may be placed in you.
Monsieur Athos, do me, then, the honor to accompany me; you and your
two friends, and then I shall have an escort to excite envy in his
Majesty, if we should meet him.”
The three Musketeers bowed to the necks of their horses.