Twenty years after
carriage, from which he made the people inside dismount, and brought
them to the vehicle which had upset. But when it was necessary to
convey the prisoner from one carriage to the other, the people,
catching sight of him whom they called their liberator, uttered every
imaginable cry and knotted themselves once more around the vehicle.
“Start, start!” said D’Artagnan. “There are ten men to accompany you. I
will keep twenty to hold in check the mob; go, and lose not a moment.
Ten men for Monsieur de Comminges.”
As the carriage started off the cries were redoubled and more than ten
thousand people thronged the Quai and overflowed the Pont Neuf and
adjacent streets. A few shots were fired and one musketeer was wounded.
“Forward!” cried D’Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting his
moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men and dispersed them
in fear. One man alone remained in his place, gun in hand.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is thou who wouldst have him assassinated? Wait
an instant.” And he pointed his gun at D’Artagnan, who was riding
toward him at full speed. D’Artagnan bent down to his horse’s neck, the
young man fired, and the ball severed the feathers from the hat. The
horse started, brushed against the imprudent man, who thought by his
strength alone to stay the tempest, and he fell against the wall.
D’Artagnan pulled up his horse, and whilst his musketeers continued to
charge, he returned and bent with drawn sword over the man he had
knocked down.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Raoul, recognizing the young man as having seen
him in the Rue Cocatrix, “spare him! it is his son!”
D’Artagnan’s arm dropped to his side. “Ah, you are his son!” he said;
“that is a different thing.”
“Sir, I surrender,” said Louvières, presenting his unloaded musket to
the officer.
“Eh, no! do not surrender, egad! On the contrary, be off, and quickly.
If I take you, you will be hung!”
The young man did not wait to be told twice, but passing under the
horse’s head disappeared at the corner of the Rue Guénégaud.
“I’faith!” said D’Artagnan to Raoul, “you were just in time to stay my
hand. He was a dead man; and on my honor, if I had discovered that it
was his son, I should have regretted having killed him.”
“Ah! sir!” said Raoul, “allow me, after thanking you for that poor
fellow’s life, to thank you on my own account. I too, sir, was almost
dead when you arrived.”
“Wait, wait, young man; do not fatigue yourself with speaking. We can
talk of it afterward.”
Then seeing that the musketeers had cleared the Quai from the Pont Neuf
to the Quai Saint Michael, he raised his sword for them to double their
speed. The musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom
D’Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared.
“Halloo!” cried D’Artagnan; “has something fresh happened?”
“Eh, sir!” replied the sergeant, “their vehicle has broken down a
second time; it really must be doomed.”
“They are bad managers,” said D’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders.
“When a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong. The carriage in
which a Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able to bear ten
thousand men.”
“What are your commands, lieutenant?”
“Take the detachment and conduct him to his place.”
“But you will be left alone?”
“Certainly. So you suppose I have need of an escort? Go.”
The musketeers set off and D’Artagnan was left alone with Raoul.
“Now,” he said, “are you in pain?”
“Yes; my head is not only swimming but burning.”
“What’s the matter with this head?” said D’Artagnan, raising the
battered hat. “Ah! ah! a bruise.”
“Yes, I think I received a flower-pot upon my head.”
“Brutes!” said D’Artagnan. “But were you not on horseback? you have
spurs.”
“Yes, but I got down to defend Monsieur de Comminges and my horse was
taken away. Here it is, I see.”
At this very moment Friquet passed, mounted on Raoul’s horse, waving
his parti-colored cap and crying, “Broussel! Broussel!”
“Halloo! stop, rascal!” cried D’Artagnan. “Bring hither that horse.”
Friquet heard perfectly, but he pretended not to do so and tried to
continue his road. D’Artagnan felt inclined for an instant to pursue
Master Friquet, but not wishing to leave Raoul alone he contented
himself with taking a pistol from the holster and cocking it.
Friquet had a quick eye and a fine ear. He saw D’Artagnan’s movement,
heard the sound of the click, and stopped at once.
“Ah! it is you, your honor,” he said, advancing toward D’Artagnan; “and
I am truly pleased to meet you.”
D’Artagnan looked attentively at Friquet and recognized the little
chorister of the Rue de la Calandre.
“Ah! ’tis thou, rascal!” said he, “come here: so thou hast changed thy
trade; thou art no longer a choir boy nor a tavern boy; thou hast
become a horse stealer?”
“Ah, your honor, how can you say so?” exclaimed Friquet. “I was seeking
the gentleman to whom this horse belongs—an officer, brave and handsome
as a youthful Cæsar;” then, pretending to see Raoul for the first time:
“Ah! but if I mistake not,” continued he, “here he is; you won’t forget
the boy, sir.”
Raoul put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you about?” asked D’Artagnan.
“To give ten francs to this honest fellow,” replied Raoul, taking a
pistole from his pocket.
“Ten kicks on his back!” said D’Artagnan; “be off, you little villain,
and forget not that I have your address.”
Friquet, who did not expect to be let off so cheaply, bounded off like
a gazelle up the Quai a la Rue Dauphine, and disappeared. Raoul mounted
his horse, and both leisurely took their way to the Rue Tiquetonne.
D’Artagnan watched over the youth as if he had been his own son.
They arrived without accident at the Hotel de la Chevrette.
The handsome Madeleine announced to D’Artagnan that Planchet had
returned, bringing Mousqueton with him, who had heroically borne the
extraction of the ball and was as well as his state would permit.
D’Artagnan desired Planchet to be summoned, but he had disappeared.
“Then bring some wine,” said D’Artagnan. “You are much pleased with
yourself,” said he to Raoul when they were alone, “are you not?”
“Well, yes,” replied Raoul. “It seems to me I did my duty. I defended
the king.”
“And who told you to defend the king?”
“The Comte de la Fère himself.”
“Yes, the king; but to-day you have not fought for the king, you have
fought for Mazarin; which is not quite the same thing.”
“But you yourself?”
“Oh, for me; that is another matter. I obey my captain’s orders. As for
you, your captain is the prince, understand that rightly; you have no
other. But has one ever seen such a wild fellow,” continued he, “making
himself a Mazarinist and helping to arrest Broussel! Breathe not a word
of that, or the Comte de la Fère will be furious.”
“You think the count will be angry with me?”
“Think it? I’m certain of it; were it not for that, I should thank you,
for you have worked for us. However, I scold you instead of him, and in
his place; the storm will blow over more easily, believe me. And
moreover, my dear child,” continued D’Artagnan, “I am making use of the
privilege conceded to me by your guardian.”
“I do not understand you, sir,” said Raoul.
D’Artagnan rose, and taking a letter from his writing-desk, presented
it to Raoul. The face of the latter became serious when he had cast his
eyes upon the paper.
“Oh, _mon Dieu!_” he said, raising his fine eyes to D’Artagnan, moist
with tears, “the count has left Paris without seeing me?”
“He left four days ago,” said D’Artagnan.
“But this letter seems to intimate that he is about to incur danger,
perhaps death.”
“He—he—incur danger of death! No, be not anxious; he is traveling on
business and will return ere long. I hope you have no repugnance to
accept me as your guardian in the interim.”
“Oh, no, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Raoul, “you are such a brave
gentleman and the Comte de la Fère has so much affection for you!”
“Eh! Egad! love me too; I will not torment you much, but only on
condition that you become a Frondist, my young friend, and a hearty
Frondist, too.”
“But can I continue to visit Madame de Chevreuse?”
“I should say you could! and the coadjutor and Madame de Longueville;
and if the worthy Broussel were there, whom you so stupidly helped
arrest, I should tell you to excuse yourself to him at once and kiss
him on both cheeks.”
“Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand you.”
“It is unnecessary for you to understand. Hold,” continued D’Artagnan,
turning toward the door, which had just opened, “here is Monsieur du
Vallon, who comes with his coat torn.”
“Yes, but in exchange,” said Porthos, covered with perspiration and
soiled by dust, “in exchange, I have torn many skins. Those wretches
wanted to take away my sword! Deuce take ’em, what a popular
commotion!” continued the giant, in his quiet manner; “but I knocked
down more than twenty with the hilt of Balizarde. A draught of wine,
D’Artagnan.”
“Oh, I’ll answer for you,” said the Gascon, filling Porthos’s glass to
the brim; “but when you have drunk, give me your opinion.”
“Upon what?” asked Porthos.
“Look here,” resumed D’Artagnan; “here is Monsieur de Bragelonne, who
determined at all risks to aid the arrest of Broussel and whom I had
great difficulty to prevent defending Monsieur de Comminges.”
“The devil!” said Porthos; “and his guardian, what would he have said
to that?”
“Do you hear?” interrupted D’Artagnan; “become a Frondist, my friend,
belong to the Fronde, and remember that I fill the count’s place in
everything;” and he jingled his money.
“Will you come?” said he to Porthos.
“Where?” asked Porthos, filling a second glass of wine.
“To present our respects to the cardinal.”
Porthos swallowed the second glass with the same grace with which he
had imbibed the first, took his beaver and followed D’Artagnan. As for
Raoul, he remained bewildered with what he had seen, having been
forbidden by D’Artagnan to leave the room until the tumult was over.
Chapter XLV.
The Beggar of St. Eustache.
D’Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the Palais Royal
he would give Comminges time to arrive before him, and consequently to
make the cardinal acquainted with the eminent services which he,
D’Artagnan, and his friend had rendered to the queen’s party in the
morning.
They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid them numerous
compliments, and announced that they were more than half on their way
to obtain what they desired, namely, D’Artagnan his captaincy, Porthos
his barony.
D’Artagnan would have preferred money in hand to all that fine talk,
for he knew well that to Mazarin it was easy to promise and hard to
perform. But, though he held the cardinal’s promises as of little
worth, he affected to be completely satisfied, for he was unwilling to
discourage Porthos.
Whilst the two friends were with the cardinal, the queen sent for him.
Mazarin, thinking that it would be the means of increasing the zeal of
his two defenders if he procured them personal thanks from the queen,
motioned them to follow him. D’Artagnan and Porthos pointed to their
dusty and torn dresses, but the cardinal shook his head.
“Those costumes,” he said, “are of more worth than most of those which
you will see on the backs of the queen’s courtiers; they are costumes
of battle.”
D’Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. The court of Anne of Austria was full of
gayety and animation; for, after having gained a victory over the
Spaniard, it had just gained another over the people. Broussel had been
conducted out of Paris without further resistance, and was at this time
in the prison of Saint Germain; while Blancmesnil, who was arrested at
the same time, but whose arrest had been made without difficulty or