The three musketeers
“Well, upon my honor,” said Athos, “your Eminence is right in taking us
with you; we have seen several ill-looking faces on the road, and we
have even had a quarrel at the Red Dovecot with four of those faces.”
“A quarrel, and what for, gentlemen?” said the cardinal; “you know I
don’t like quarrelers.”
“And that is the reason why I have the honor to inform your Eminence of
what has happened; for you might learn it from others, and upon a false
account believe us to be in fault.”
“What have been the results of your quarrel?” said the cardinal,
knitting his brow.
“My friend, Aramis, here, has received a slight sword wound in the arm,
but not enough to prevent him, as your Eminence may see, from mounting
to the assault tomorrow, if your Eminence orders an escalade.”
“But you are not the men to allow sword wounds to be inflicted upon you
thus,” said the cardinal. “Come, be frank, gentlemen, you have settled
accounts with somebody! Confess; you know I have the right of giving
absolution.”
“I, monseigneur?” said Athos. “I did not even draw my sword, but I took
him who offended me round the body, and threw him out of the window. It
appears that in falling,” continued Athos, with some hesitation, “he
broke his thigh.”
“Ah, ah!” said the cardinal; “and you, Monsieur Porthos?”
“I, monseigneur, knowing that dueling is prohibited—I seized a bench,
and gave one of those brigands such a blow that I believe his shoulder
is broken.”
“Very well,” said the cardinal; “and you, Monsieur Aramis?”
“Monseigneur, being of a very mild disposition, and being, likewise, of
which Monseigneur perhaps is not aware, about to enter into orders, I
endeavored to appease my comrades, when one of these wretches gave me a
wound with a sword, treacherously, across my left arm. Then I admit my
patience failed me; I drew my sword in my turn, and as he came back to
the charge, I fancied I felt that in throwing himself upon me, he let
it pass through his body. I only know for a certainty that he fell; and
it seemed to me that he was borne away with his two companions.”
“The devil, gentlemen!” said the cardinal, “three men placed _hors de
combat_ in a cabaret squabble! You don’t do your work by halves. And
pray what was this quarrel about?”
“These fellows were drunk,” said Athos, “and knowing there was a lady
who had arrived at the cabaret this evening, they wanted to force her
door.”
“Force her door!” said the cardinal, “and for what purpose?”
“To do her violence, without doubt,” said Athos. “I have had the honor
of informing your Eminence that these men were drunk.”
“And was this lady young and handsome?” asked the cardinal, with a
certain degree of anxiety.
“We did not see her, monseigneur,” said Athos.
“You did not see her? Ah, very well,” replied the cardinal, quickly.
“You did well to defend the honor of a woman; and as I am going to the
Red Dovecot myself, I shall know if you have told me the truth.”
“Monseigneur,” said Athos, haughtily, “we are gentlemen, and to save
our heads we would not be guilty of a falsehood.”
“Therefore I do not doubt what you say, Monsieur Athos, I do not doubt
it for a single instant; but,” added he, “to change the conversation,
was this lady alone?”
“The lady had a cavalier shut up with her,” said Athos, “but as
notwithstanding the noise, this cavalier did not show himself, it is to
be presumed that he is a coward.”
“‘Judge not rashly’, says the Gospel,” replied the cardinal.
Athos bowed.
“And now, gentlemen, that’s well,” continued the cardinal. “I know what
I wish to know; follow me.”
The three Musketeers passed behind his Eminence, who again enveloped
his face in his cloak, and put his horse in motion, keeping from eight
to ten paces in advance of his four companions.
They soon arrived at the silent, solitary inn. No doubt the host knew
what illustrious visitor was expected, and had consequently sent
intruders out of the way.
Ten paces from the door the cardinal made a sign to his esquire and the
three Musketeers to halt. A saddled horse was fastened to the window
shutter. The cardinal knocked three times, and in a peculiar manner.
A man, enveloped in a cloak, came out immediately, and exchanged some
rapid words with the cardinal; after which he mounted his horse, and
set off in the direction of Surgères, which was likewise the way to
Paris.
“Advance, gentlemen,” said the cardinal.
“You have told me the truth, my gentlemen,” said he, addressing the
Musketeers, “and it will not be my fault if our encounter this evening
be not advantageous to you. In the meantime, follow me.”
The cardinal alighted; the three Musketeers did likewise. The cardinal
threw the bridle of his horse to his esquire; the three Musketeers
fastened the horses to the shutters.
The host stood at the door. For him, the cardinal was only an officer
coming to visit a lady.
“Have you any chamber on the ground floor where these gentlemen can
wait near a good fire?” said the cardinal.
The host opened the door of a large room, in which an old stove had
just been replaced by a large and excellent chimney.
“I have this,” said he.
“That will do,” replied the cardinal. “Enter, gentlemen, and be kind
enough to wait for me; I shall not be more than half an hour.”
And while the three Musketeers entered the ground floor room, the
cardinal, without asking further information, ascended the staircase
like a man who has no need of having his road pointed out to him.
Chapter XLIV.
THE UTILITY OF STOVEPIPES
It was evident that without suspecting it, and actuated solely by their
chivalrous and adventurous character, our three friends had just
rendered a service to someone the cardinal honored with his special
protection.
Now, who was that someone? That was the question the three Musketeers
put to one another. Then, seeing that none of their replies could throw
any light on the subject, Porthos called the host and asked for dice.
Porthos and Aramis placed themselves at the table and began to play.
Athos walked about in a contemplative mood.
While thinking and walking, Athos passed and repassed before the pipe
of the stove, broken in halves, the other extremity passing into the
chamber above; and every time he passed and repassed he heard a murmur
of words, which at length fixed his attention. Athos went close to it,
and distinguished some words that appeared to merit so great an
interest that he made a sign to his friends to be silent, remaining
himself bent with his ear directed to the opening of the lower orifice.
“Listen, Milady,” said the cardinal, “the affair is important. Sit
down, and let us talk it over.”
“Milady!” murmured Athos.
“I listen to your Eminence with greatest attention,” replied a female
voice which made the Musketeer start.
“A small vessel with an English crew, whose captain is on my side,
awaits you at the mouth of Charente, at Fort La Pointe*. He will set
sail tomorrow morning.”
* Fort La Pointe, or Fort Vasou, was not built until 1672, nearly 50
years later.
“I must go thither tonight?”
“Instantly! That is to say, when you have received my instructions. Two
men, whom you will find at the door on going out, will serve you as
escort. You will allow me to leave first; then, after half an hour, you
can go away in your turn.”
“Yes, monseigneur. Now let us return to the mission with which you wish
to charge me; and as I desire to continue to merit the confidence of
your Eminence, deign to unfold it to me in terms clear and precise,
that I may not commit an error.”
There was an instant of profound silence between the two interlocutors.
It was evident that the cardinal was weighing beforehand the terms in
which he was about to speak, and that Milady was collecting all her
intellectual faculties to comprehend the things he was about to say,
and to engrave them in her memory when they should be spoken.
Athos took advantage of this moment to tell his two companions to
fasten the door inside, and to make them a sign to come and listen with
him.
The two Musketeers, who loved their ease, brought a chair for each of
themselves and one for Athos. All three then sat down with their heads
together and their ears on the alert.
“You will go to London,” continued the cardinal. “Arrived in London,
you will seek Buckingham.”
“I must beg your Eminence to observe,” said Milady, “that since the
affair of the diamond studs, about which the duke always suspected me,
his Grace distrusts me.”
“Well, this time,” said the cardinal, “it is not necessary to steal his
confidence, but to present yourself frankly and loyally as a
negotiator.”
“Frankly and loyally,” repeated Milady, with an unspeakable expression
of duplicity.
“Yes, frankly and loyally,” replied the cardinal, in the same tone.
“All this negotiation must be carried on openly.”
“I will follow your Eminence’s instructions to the letter. I only wait
till you give them.”
“You will go to Buckingham in my behalf, and you will tell him I am
acquainted with all the preparations he has made; but that they give me
no uneasiness, since at the first step he takes I will ruin the queen.”
“Will he believe that your Eminence is in a position to accomplish the
threat thus made?”
“Yes; for I have the proofs.”
“I must be able to present these proofs for his appreciation.”
“Without doubt. And you will tell him I will publish the report of
Bois-Robert and the Marquis de Beautru, upon the interview which the
duke had at the residence of Madame the Constable with the queen on the
evening Madame the Constable gave a masquerade. You will tell him, in
order that he may not doubt, that he came there in the costume of the
Great Mogul, which the Chevalier de Guise was to have worn, and that he
purchased this exchange for the sum of three thousand pistoles.”
“Well, monseigneur?”
“All the details of his coming into and going out of the palace—on the
night when he introduced himself in the character of an Italian fortune
teller—you will tell him, that he may not doubt the correctness of my
information; that he had under his cloak a large white robe dotted with
black tears, death’s heads, and crossbones—for in case of a surprise,
he was to pass for the phantom of the White Lady who, as all the world
knows, appears at the Louvre every time any great event is impending.”
“Is that all, monseigneur?”
“Tell him also that I am acquainted with all the details of the
adventure at Amiens; that I will have a little romance made of it,
wittily turned, with a plan of the garden and portraits of the
principal actors in that nocturnal romance.”
“I will tell him that.”
“Tell him further that I hold Montague in my power; that Montague is in
the Bastille; that no letters were found upon him, it is true, but that
torture may make him tell much of what he knows, and even what he does
not know.”
“Exactly.”
“Then add that his Grace has, in the precipitation with which he quit
the Isle of 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?”
“Your Eminence will judge: the ball of Madame the Constable; the night
at the Louvre; the evening at Amiens; the arrest of Montague; the
letter of Madame de Chevreuse.”
“That’s it,” said the cardinal, “that’s it. You have an excellent
memory, Milady.”
“But,” resumed she to whom the cardinal addressed this flattering
compliment, “if, in spite of all these reasons, the duke does not give
way and continues to menace France?”