The Three Musketeers

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"And who told you this fine story, sire?" asked Treville,
quietly.

"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?"

"Your Majesty probably refers to God," said M. de Treville; "for
I know no one except God who can be so far above your Majesty."

"No, monsieur; I speak of the prop of the state, of my only
servant, of my only friend--of the cardinal."

"His Eminence is not his holiness, sire."

"What do you mean by that, monsieur?"

"That it is only the Pope who is infallible, and that this
infallibility does not extend to cardinals."

"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!"

"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."

"The accusation comes from Monsieur de la Tremouille, from the
duke himself. What do you say to that?"

"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."

"What?"

"It is that your Majesty will make him come here, will
interrogate him yourself, TETE-A-TETE, without witnesses, and
that I shall see your Majesty as soon as you have seen the duke."

"What, then! You will bind yourself," cried the king, "by what
Monsieur de la Tremouille shall say?"

"Yes, sire."

"You will accept his judgment?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Any you will submit to the reparation he may require?"

"Certainly."

"La Chesnaye," said the king. "La Chesnaye!"

Louis XIII's confidential valet, who never left the door, entered
in reply to the call.

"La Chesnaye," said the king, "let someone go instantly and find
Monsieur de la Tremouille; I wish to speak with him this
evening."

"Your Majesty gives me your word that you will not see anyone
between Monsieur de la Tremouille and myself?"

"Nobody, by the faith of a gentleman."

"Tomorrow, then, sire?"

"Tomorrow, monsieur."

"At what o'clock, please your Majesty?"

"At any hour you will."

"But in coming too early I should be afraid of awakening your
Majesty."

"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."

"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."

"No, monsieur, no; I am not called Louis the Just without reason.
Tomorrow, then, monsieur--tomorrow."

"Till then, God preserve your Majesty!"

However ill the king might sleep, M. de Treville 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.

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.

On arriving at the king's private antechamber, M. de Treville
found La Chesnaye, who informed him that they had not been able
to find M. de la Tremouille on the preceding evening at his
hotel, 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.

This circumstance pleased M. de Treville much, as he thus became
certain that no foreign suggestion could insinuate itself between
M. de la Tremouille's testimony and himself.

In fact, ten minutes had scarcely passed away when the door of
the king's closet opened, and M. de Treville saw M. de la
Tremouille come out. The duke came straight up to him, and said:
"Monsieur de Treville, his Majesty has just sent for me in order
to inquire respecting the circumstances which took place
yesterday at my hotel. 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."

"Monsieur the Duke," said M. de Treville, "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."

"That's well said," cried the king, who had heard all these
compliments through the open door; "only tell him, Treville,
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."

"Thanks, sire, thanks," said the duke; "but your Majesty may be
assured that it is not those--I do not speak of Monsieur de
Treville--whom your Majesty sees at all hours of the day that are
most devoted to you."

"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, Treville. Where are your Musketeers? I told you the
day before yesterday to bring them with you; why have you not
done so?"

"They are below, sire, and with your permission La Chesnaye will
bid them come up."

"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, Treville."

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.

"Come in, my braves," said the king, "come in; I am going to
scold you."

The Musketeers advanced, bowing, d'Artagnan following closely
behind them.

"What the devil!" continued the king. "Seven of his Eminence's
Guards placed HORS DE COMBAT 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!"

"Therefore, sire, your Majesty sees that they are come, quite
contrite and repentant, to offer you their excuses."

"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."

D'Artagnan, who understood that it was to him this compliment was
addressed, approached, assuming a most deprecating air.

"Why you told me he was a young man? This is a boy, Treville, a
mere boy! Do you mean to say that it was he who bestowed that
severe thrust at Jussac?"

"And those two equally fine thrusts at Bernajoux."

"Truly!"

"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."

"Why he is a very devil, this Bearnais! VENTRE-SAINT-GRIS,
Monsieur de Treville, 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?"

"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."

"Which is to say that the Gascons made a king of me, myself,
seeing that I am my father's son, is it not, Treville? 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?"

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 Tremouille, who had nothing to do with the
matter, with the loss of his hotel.

"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 Ferou, and even exceeded
it; you ought to be satisfied."

"If your Majesty is so," said Treville, "we are."

"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."

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.

"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?"

"Oh, sire!" cried the four companions, with one voice, "we would
allow ourselves to be cut to pieces in your Majesty's service."

"Well, well, but keep whole; that will be better, and you will be
more useful to me. Treville," 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,
PARDIEU, Treville! I enjoy beforehand the face the cardinal will
make. He will be furious; but I don't care. I am doing what is
right."

The king waved his hand to Treville, who left him and rejoined
the Musketeers, whom he found sharing the forty pistoles with
d'Artagnan.

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?"

7 THE INTERIOR OF "THE MUSKETEERS"

When 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.

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.

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 Croesus. 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.

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 a matter of fact, without a single romance.

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.

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.

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 Treville 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.

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.

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.

As for Aramis, of whom we believe we have sufficiently explained
the character--a character which, like that of 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.

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.

Athos dwelt in the Rue Ferou, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

With regard to d'Artagnan, we know how he was lodged, and we have
already made acquaintance with his lackey, Master Planchet.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

"PARDIEU! 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."

"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?"

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."

"But what the devil! You are not a priest, you are a Musketeer!"

"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."

"Not at all; it interests me very much," cried d'Artagnan; "and
at this moment I have absolutely nothing to do."

"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. Honore 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."

Aramis held out his hand in a cordial manner to his young
companion, and took leave of him.

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.

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.

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.