Part 16

— Ah! you were unaware that she was married? You see that we are better informed than you, Monsieur de Wardes. Do you know that she was habitually called Milady, without adding any name to that title?

— Yes, monsieur, I know that.

— My God! murmured Buckingham.

— Well! this woman, who had come from England, returned to England after having three times plotted the death of Monsieur d'Artagnan. It was justice, was it not? I grant you that, since Monsieur d'Artagnan had insulted her. But what is no longer justice is that, in England, by her seductions, this woman conquered a young man who was in the service of Lord de Winter, and who was named Felton. You are growing pale, Milord Buckingham? your eyes kindle at once with anger and with grief? Then finish the tale, milord, and tell Monsieur de Wardes who was that woman who placed the knife in the hand of your father's assassin.

A cry escaped from every mouth. The young duke passed a handkerchief over his brow, flooded with sweat.

A great silence had fallen among all the bystanders.

— You see, Monsieur de Wardes, said d'Artagnan, that this account impressed all the more in that his own memories were revived by Athos's words; you see that my crime is not the cause of a loss of soul, and that the soul was very truly lost before my remorse. It is therefore a matter of conscience. Now that this is established, it remains for me, Monsieur de Wardes, to ask your very humble pardon for that shameful action, just as certainly I would have asked pardon of Monsieur your father, had he still been living, and had I met him after my return to France since the death of Charles I.

— But this is too much, Monsieur d'Artagnan, cried several voices eagerly.

— No, gentlemen, said the captain. Now, Monsieur de Wardes, I hope all is finished between us two, and that it will not happen again that you speak ill of me. It is a matter purged, is it not?

De Wardes bowed, stammering.

— I also hope, continued d'Artagnan, drawing near the young man, that you will no longer speak ill of anyone, as is your unfortunate habit; for a man as conscientious, as perfect as you are, you who reproach an old soldier with a trifling folly of youth after thirty-five years, you, I say, who display this purity of conscience, you take upon yourself the tacit engagement to do nothing against conscience and honor. Now, listen well to what remains for me to tell you, Monsieur de Wardes. Beware lest a story in which your name figures reach my ears.

— Monsieur, said de Wardes, it is useless to threaten for nothing.

— Oh! I have not finished, Monsieur de Wardes, resumed d'Artagnan, and you are condemned to hear me out.

The circle drew curiously nearer.

— You were speaking loudly just now of the honor of a woman and of the honor of your father; you pleased us in speaking thus, for it is sweet to think that this sentiment of delicacy and probity which, it would seem, did not live in our soul, lives in the soul of our children, and it is fine, finally, to see a young man at the age where one usually makes free with the honor of women, it is fine to see this young man respect and defend it.

De Wardes pressed his lips and his fists, evidently much uneasy as to how this speech would end, whose exordium announced itself so ill.

— How does it happen, then, continued d'Artagnan, that you permitted yourself to say to the Vicomte de Bragelonne that he did not know his mother?

Raoul's eyes flashed.

— Oh! cried he, springing forward, Monsieur le Chevalier, Monsieur le Chevalier, this is a matter personal to me.

De Wardes smiled maliciously.

D'Artagnan thrust Raoul back with his arm.

— Do not interrupt me, young man, said he.

And, dominating de Wardes with his gaze:

— I am treating here a question which is not resolved by the sword, he continued. I treat it before men of honor, who have all more than once laid hand to the sword. I have chosen them expressly. Now, these gentlemen know that every secret for which one fights ceases to be a secret. I therefore repeat my question to Monsieur de Wardes: For what reason have you offended this young man in offending at once his father and his mother?

— But it seems to me, said de Wardes, that words are free, when one offers to uphold them by all the means at the disposal of a gentleman.

— Ah! monsieur, what are the means, tell me, by which a gentleman can uphold a wicked word?

— By the sword.

— You lack not only logic in saying that, but also religion and honor; you expose the lives of several men, not to speak of your own, which appears to me very much at hazard. Now, every fashion passes, monsieur, and the fashion of encounters is past, not to mention His Majesty's edicts which forbid dueling. Therefore, to be consistent with your ideas of chivalry, you shall present your excuses to Monsieur Raoul de Bragelonne; you shall tell him that you regret having uttered a light phrase; that the nobility and purity of his race are written not only in his heart, but also in all the actions of his life. You shall do this, Monsieur de Wardes, as I did just now, I, old captain, before your child's moustache.

— And if I do not do it? asked de Wardes.

— Well! it will come to pass…

— What you believe to prevent, said de Wardes laughing; it will come to pass that your logic of conciliation will end in a violation of the king's prohibitions.

— No, monsieur, said the captain quietly, and you are in error.

— What will come to pass, then?

— It will come to pass that I shall go to the king, with whom I am rather well; the king, to whom I have had the happiness of rendering some services dating from a time when you were not yet born; the king, finally, who, at my request, has just sent me a blank order for Monsieur Baisemeaux de Montlezun, governor of the Bastille, and I shall say to the king: 'Sire, a man has cowardly insulted Monsieur de Bragelonne in the person of his mother. I have written the name of this man upon the lettre de cachet which Your Majesty was pleased to give me, so that Monsieur de Wardes is in the Bastille for three years.'

And d'Artagnan, drawing from his pocket the order signed by the king, held it out to de Wardes.

Then, seeing that the young man was not quite convinced, and took the warning for a vain threat, he shrugged his shoulders and coldly directed his steps toward the table on which were an inkstand and a pen whose length would have terrified the topographer Porthos.

Then de Wardes saw that the threat was serious beyond measure; the Bastille, at that epoch, was already a frightful thing. He took a step toward Raoul, and in a well-nigh unintelligible voice:

— Monsieur, said he, I offer you the excuses dictated to me just now by Monsieur d'Artagnan, and which I am forced to offer you.

— One moment, one moment, monsieur, said the musketeer with the greatest tranquillity; you mistake the terms. I did not say: 'And which I am forced to offer you.' I said: 'And which my conscience moves me to offer you.' That word is better than the other, believe me; it will be so much the better in that it will be the truer expression of your sentiments.

— I subscribe to it, then, said de Wardes; but, in truth, gentlemen, confess that a sword-thrust through the body, as one used to give oneself, was better than such a tyranny.

— No, monsieur, replied Buckingham, for the sword-thrust does not signify, if you receive it, that you are wrong or right; it signifies only that you are more or less adroit.

— Monsieur! cried de Wardes.

— Ah! you are going to say something ill, interrupted d'Artagnan, cutting de Wardes short, and I do you a service in stopping you there.

— Is that all, monsieur? asked de Wardes.

— Absolutely all, replied d'Artagnan, and these gentlemen and I are satisfied with you.

— Believe me, monsieur, replied de Wardes, your conciliations are not happy!

— And why so?

— Because we are going to separate, I would wager, Monsieur de Bragelonne and I, more enemies than ever.

— You are mistaken as to me, monsieur, replied Raoul, and I keep not an atom of bitterness in my heart against you.

This last blow crushed de Wardes. He cast his eyes around him like a bewildered man.

D'Artagnan graciously saluted the gentlemen who had kindly assisted at the explanation, and each withdrew giving him his hand.

Not a hand was held out to de Wardes.

— Oh! cried the young man, succumbing to the rage that ate his heart; oh! shall I then find no one upon whom I can avenge myself!

— Yes, monsieur, for I am here, me, said a voice charged with menace in his ear.

De Wardes turned and saw the Duke of Buckingham, who, having remained doubtless with this intent, had just approached him.

— You, monsieur! cried de Wardes.

— Yes, me. I am not a subject of the King of France, me, monsieur; me, I do not remain on the territory, since I am leaving for England. I too have amassed despair and rage. I have therefore, like you, need to avenge myself upon someone. I greatly approve the principles of Monsieur d'Artagnan, but I am not bound to apply them to you. I am English, and I come to propose to you in my turn what you uselessly proposed to the others.

— Monsieur le Duc!

— Come, dear Monsieur de Wardes, since you are so sorely angered, take me for a quintain. I shall be at Calais in four-and-thirty hours. Come with me, the road will seem less long to us together than apart. We shall draw the sword there, upon the sand the tide covers, and which, six hours of the day, is the territory of France, but during six other hours the territory of God.

— Very well, replied de Wardes; I accept.

— Pardieu! said the duke, if you kill me, my dear Monsieur de Wardes, you will render me, I assure you, a signal service.

— I shall do what I can to please you, duke, said de Wardes.

— Thus, it is agreed, I take you with me.

— I shall be at your orders. Pardieu! I needed, to calm myself, a good danger, a mortal peril.

— Well! I believe you have found your affair. Your servant, Monsieur de Wardes; tomorrow morning my valet will tell you the precise hour of departure; we shall travel together like two good friends. I usually travel as a pressed man. Adieu!

Buckingham saluted de Wardes and re-entered the king's presence. De Wardes, exasperated, left the Palais-Royal and rapidly took the road to the house he inhabited.

Chapter XCV — Monsieur Baisemeaux de Montlezun

After the somewhat hard lesson given to de Wardes, Athos and d'Artagnan descended together the staircase leading to the court of the Palais-Royal.

— You see, said Athos to d'Artagnan, Raoul cannot escape, sooner or later, this duel with de Wardes; de Wardes is as brave as he is wicked.

— I know those knaves, replied d'Artagnan; I had to do with the father. I declare to you, and at that time I had good muscles and a savage assurance, I declare to you, I say, that the father gave me trouble. Yet one should have seen how I laid about me. Ah! my friend, they no longer make such assaults today; I had a hand that could not stay a moment in place, a hand of quicksilver, you know it, Athos, you have seen me at work. It was no longer a simple piece of steel, it was a serpent that took all its forms and all its lengths to succeed in placing conveniently its head, that is to say its bite; I gave myself six feet, then three, I pressed the enemy body to body, then I threw myself ten feet off. There was no human force capable of resisting that ferocious ardor. Well! de Wardes the father, with his breed's bravery, his snarling bravery, occupied me very long, and I remember that my fingers, at the issue of the combat, were weary.

— Therefore, as I was telling you, resumed Athos, the son will always seek Raoul and will end by meeting him, for one finds Raoul easily when one seeks him.

— Agreed, my friend, but Raoul calculates well; he bears no ill will to de Wardes, he has said so: he will wait to be provoked; then his position is good. The king cannot take offense; besides, we shall know the means to calm the king. But why these fears, these uneasiness in you who are not easily alarmed?

— This: everything troubles me. Raoul goes tomorrow to see the king, who will tell him his will upon a certain marriage. Raoul will be angered like the lover he is, and, once in his ill humor, if he meets de Wardes, the bomb will burst.

— We shall prevent the burst, dear friend.

— Not I, for I wish to return to Blois. All this painted elegance of court, all these intrigues disgust me. I am no longer a young man to compound with the pettiness of today. I have read in the great book of God many things too beautiful and too large to occupy myself with interest in the little phrases these men whisper to each other when they would deceive. In a word, I am bored in Paris, everywhere I do not have you, and, as I cannot always have you, I wish to return to Blois.

— Oh! how wrong you are, Athos! how you belie your origin and the destiny of your soul! Men of your stamp are made to go, to the last day, in the fullness of their faculties. See my old sword of La Rochelle, that Spanish blade; it served thirty years as perfect; one winter's day, falling upon the marble of the Louvre, it broke clean, my dear. They have made me a hunting-knife of it that will last a hundred years more. You, Athos, with your loyalty, your frankness, your cold courage and your solid learning, you are the man to warn and direct kings. Remain here: Monsieur Fouquet will not last as long as my Spanish blade.

— Come, said Athos smiling, there is d'Artagnan who, after raising me to the skies, makes of me a sort of god, throws me from the height of Olympus and flattens me on the earth. I have greater ambitions, friend. To be minister, to be slave, come now! Am I not greater? I am nothing. I remember having heard you sometimes call me the great Athos. Now, I defy you, were I minister, to confirm that epithet. No, no, I do not thus give myself up.

— Then let us speak of it no more; abdicate all, even brotherhood!

— Oh! dear friend, that is almost harsh, what you say to me!

D'Artagnan warmly pressed Athos's hand.

— No, no, abdicate without fear. Raoul can do without you, I am in Paris.

— Well! then, I shall return to Blois. This evening, you shall say farewell to me; tomorrow, at break of day, I shall remount on horseback.

— You cannot return alone to your hotel; why did you not bring Grimaud?

— My friend, Grimaud sleeps; he goes to bed early. My poor old man tires easily. He came with me from Blois, and I forced him to keep the lodging; for if he had to, to catch his breath, remount the forty leagues that separate us from Blois, he would die without complaining. But I am attached to my Grimaud.

— I am going to give you a musketeer to carry the torch. Hola! someone!

And d'Artagnan leaned over the gilded baluster. Seven or eight heads of musketeers appeared.

— Someone of good will to escort Monsieur le Comte de La Fère, cried d'Artagnan.

— Thank you for your eagerness, gentlemen, said Athos. I could not thus disturb gentlemen.

— I would gladly escort Monsieur, said someone, if I had not to speak to Monsieur d'Artagnan.

— Who is there? said d'Artagnan, searching in the half-light.

— I, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan.

— God forgive me, if that is not the voice of Baisemeaux!

— Myself, monsieur.

— Eh! my dear Baisemeaux, what are you doing there in the court?

— I await your orders, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan.

— Ah! unhappy me, thought d'Artagnan; it is true, you were warned of an arrest; but to come yourself instead of sending an equerry!

— I came because I had to speak to you.

— And you did not have me warned?

— I was waiting, said Monsieur Baisemeaux timidly.

— I leave you. Adieu, d'Artagnan, said Athos to his friend.

— Not before I present you to Monsieur Baisemeaux de Montlezun, governor of the château of the Bastille.

Baisemeaux bowed. Athos likewise.

— But you must know each other, added d'Artagnan.

— I have a vague memory of Monsieur, said Athos.

— You well know, my dear friend, Baisemeaux, that king's guard with whom we made such good parties formerly under the cardinal.

— Perfectly, said Athos, taking leave with affability.

— Monsieur le Comte de La Fère, who bore the war-name Athos, said d'Artagnan in Baisemeaux's ear.

— Yes, yes, a gallant gentleman, one of the famous four, said Baisemeaux.

— Precisely. But, come, my dear Baisemeaux, shall we talk?

— If you please!

— First, as to the orders, it is done, no orders. The king renounces having the person in question arrested.

— Ah! so much the worse, said Baisemeaux with a sigh.

— How, so much the worse? cried d'Artagnan laughing.

— Doubtless, cried the governor of the Bastille, my prisoners are my rents, to me.

— Eh! it is true. I did not see the thing in that light.

— Therefore, no orders?

And Baisemeaux sighed again.

— It is you, resumed he, who have a fine position: captain-lieutenant of the musketeers!

— It is rather good, yes. But I do not see what you have to envy me: governor of the Bastille, which is the first château of France.

— I know it well, said Baisemeaux sadly.

— You say that like a penitent, mordioux! I would exchange my benefices for yours, if you wish?

— Let us not speak of benefices, said Baisemeaux, if you would not cleave my soul.

— But you look right and left as if you feared to be arrested, you who guard those they arrest.

— I look that we are seen and heard, and that it would be safer to talk apart, if you granted me that favor.

— Baisemeaux! Baisemeaux! you forget then that we are acquaintances of five-and-thirty years. Do not take, then, contrite airs with me. Be at ease. I do not eat raw governors of the Bastille.

— Would to Heaven!

— Come, come into the court, we shall take each other by the arm; there is a superb moonlight, and along the oaks, under the trees, you shall tell me your lugubrious story. Come.

He drew the doleful governor into the court, took his arm, as he had said, and with his brusque heartiness:

— Come, sword in the wind! said he, spin your yarn. Baisemeaux, what would you say to me?

— It will be very long.

— You would rather lament, then? Methinks it will be even longer. I wager you make yourself fifty thousand livres on your pigeons of the Bastille.

— Were that so, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan?

— You astonish me, Baisemeaux; look at yourself, my dear. You make the contrite man, mordioux! I am going to lead you before a glass, you will see there that you are plumpish, florid, fat and round as a cheese; that you have eyes like lighted coals, and that, without that ugly fold you affect to hollow in your brow, you would not seem fifty years. Now, you are sixty, eh?

— All that is true…

— Pardieu! I know well it is true, true as the fifty thousand livres of profit.

Little Baisemeaux stamped his foot.

— There, there! said d'Artagnan, I am going to make your account; you were captain of the guards of Monsieur de Mazarin: twelve thousand livres a year; you touched them twelve years, that is a hundred forty thousand livres.

— Twelve thousand livres! Are you mad! cried Baisemeaux. The old miser never gave but six thousand, and the charges of the place came to six thousand five hundred. Monsieur Colbert, who had me clipped of the other six thousand livres, deigned to have me touch fifty pistoles as gratification. So that, without that little fief of Montlezun, which gives twelve thousand livres, I should not have done honor to my affairs.

— Let us pass condemnation, come to the fifty thousand livres of the Bastille. There, I hope, you are fed, lodged; you have six thousand livres of salary.

— Be it so.

— Good year bad year, fifty prisoners who, one with another, bring you a thousand livres.

— I do not deny it.

— That is well fifty thousand livres a year; you have held three years, that is therefore a hundred fifty thousand livres you have.

— You forget a detail, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan.

— Which?

— It is that you, you received the charge of captain from the king's hands.

— I know it well.

— Whereas I received that of governor from Messieurs Tremblay and Louvière.

— That is just, and Tremblay was not a man to leave you his charge for nothing.

— Oh! Louvière neither. Whence it results that I gave seventy-five thousand livres to Tremblay for his share.

— Pretty! And to Louvière?

— As much.

— All at once?

— Not so, that would have been impossible. The king would not, or rather Monsieur de Mazarin would not appear to destitute those two fellows sprung from the barricade; he therefore suffered them to make, to retire, leonine conditions.

— What conditions?

— Shudder!… three years of the revenue as a bribe.

— The devil! so that the hundred fifty thousand livres passed into their hands?

— Just.

— And besides that?

— A sum of fifteen thousand écus or fifty thousand pistoles, as you please, in three payments.

— That is exorbitant.

— That is not all.

— Come now!

— Failing to fulfill one of the conditions, these gentlemen re-enter their charge. They had that signed by the king.

— That is enormous, that is incredible!

— That is how it is.

— I pity you, my poor Baisemeaux. But then, dear friend, why the devil did Monsieur de Mazarin grant you that pretended favor? It was simpler to refuse it you.

— Oh! yes! but he had his hand forced by my protector.

— Your protector! who is that?

— Parbleu! a friend of yours, Monsieur d'Herblay.

— Monsieur d'Herblay? Aramis?

— Aramis, precisely, he was charming to me.

— Charming! to make you pass under those forks?

— Listen then! I wished to leave the cardinal's service. Monsieur d'Herblay spoke for me to Louvière and Tremblay; they resisted; I had a mind to the place, for I know what it can give; I opened myself to Monsieur d'Herblay on my distress: he offered to answer for me at each payment.

— Bah! Aramis? Oh! you stupefy me. Aramis answered for you?

— Like a gallant man. He obtained the signature; Tremblay and Louvière demitted; I have had paid twenty-five thousand livres each year of profit to one of those two gentlemen; each year also, in May, Monsieur d'Herblay came himself to the Bastille to bring me two thousand five hundred pistoles to distribute to my crocodiles.

— Then, you owe Aramis a hundred fifty thousand livres?

— Eh! there is my despair, I owe him only a hundred thousand.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”