Part 17

She found Monsieur Bonacieux alone: the poor man was with great difficulty putting his house back in order, having found the furniture nearly broken and the cupboards nearly empty—justice not being one of the three things King Solomon mentions as leaving no trace of their passage. As for the maid, she had fled at her master's arrest. Terror had so seized the poor girl that she had walked all the way from Paris to Burgundy, her native land.

The worthy mercer, as soon as he had re-entered his house, had informed his wife of his happy return, and his wife had replied to congratulate him and to say that the first moment she could steal from her duties would be entirely devoted to paying him a visit.

That first moment had been five days in coming, which, in any other circumstances, would have seemed rather long to Master Bonacieux; but he had, in his visit to the cardinal and in the visits Rochefort paid him, ample food for thought, and, as everyone knows, nothing makes time pass like reflection.

All the more so because Bonacieux's reflections were entirely rose-colored. Rochefort called him his friend, his dear Bonacieux, and never ceased telling him that the cardinal held him in the highest esteem. The mercer already saw himself on the path to honors and fortune.

For her part, Madame Bonacieux had been reflecting, but, it must be said, on quite other things than ambition; in spite of herself, her thoughts had constantly been governed by that handsome young man, so brave and who seemed so much in love. Married at eighteen to Monsieur Bonacieux, having always lived among her husband's friends, who were scarcely capable of inspiring any sort of feeling in a young woman whose heart was loftier than her station, Madame Bonacieux had remained insensible to vulgar seductions; but, especially at that time, the title of gentleman had great influence over the bourgeoisie, and d'Artagnan was a gentleman; moreover, he wore the uniform of the Guards, which, after the uniform of the Musketeers, was the most admired by ladies. He was, we repeat, handsome, young, adventurous; he spoke of love like a man who loves and who thirsts to be loved; that was more than enough to turn a head of twenty-three, and Madame Bonacieux had reached precisely that happy age of life.

The two spouses, though they had not seen each other for more than eight days, and though during that week grave events had passed between them, therefore approached each other with a certain preoccupation; nevertheless, Monsieur Bonacieux showed real joy and advanced toward his wife with open arms.

Madame Bonacieux offered him her forehead.

"Let us talk a little," she said.

"What?" said Bonacieux, astonished.

"Yes, indeed, I have something of the utmost importance to tell you."

"As a matter of fact, so do I—I have several rather serious questions to ask you. Explain your abduction to me a little, if you please."

"That is not the point at the moment," said Madame Bonacieux.

"Then what is it? My captivity?"

"I learned of it the very day; but since you were guilty of no crime, since you were accomplice to no intrigue, since you finally knew nothing that could compromise you, or anyone else, I attached no more importance to that event than it deserved."

"You speak very easily, madame!" replied Bonacieux, wounded by the little interest his wife showed him. "Do you know that I was plunged for a day and a night into a dungeon of the Bastille?"

"A day and a night are soon over; so let us leave your captivity, and return to what brings me near you."

"What? What brings you near me! Is it not the desire to see again a husband from whom you have been separated for eight days?" asked the mercer, stung to the quick.

"That first, and something else next."

"Speak!"

"A matter of the highest interest, upon which perhaps our future fortune depends."

"Our fortune has changed greatly in appearance since I saw you, Madame Bonacieux, and I would not be surprised if in a few months it were the envy of many people."

"Yes, especially if you wish to follow the instructions I am about to give you."

"To me?"

"Yes, to you. There is a good and holy deed to be done, monsieur, and much money to be earned at the same time."

Madame Bonacieux knew that by speaking of money to her husband, she was taking him by his weak point.

But a man, even a mercer, when he has spoken for ten minutes with Cardinal Richelieu, is no longer the same man.

"Much money to be earned!" said Bonacieux, pursing his lips.

"Yes, much."

"How much, roughly?"

"A thousand pistoles perhaps."

"Is what you are asking of me, then, so serious?"

"Yes."

"What must be done?"

"You will leave immediately; I will give you a paper that you will not part with on any pretext, and that you will deliver into the proper hands."

"And for where shall I leave?"

"For London."

"I, for London? Come now, you are joking; I have no business in London."

"But others need you to go there."

"Who are these others? I warn you, I no longer do anything blindly, and I want to know not only what I risk, but also for whom I risk it."

"A distinguished person sends you, a distinguished person awaits you; the reward will exceed your desires, that is all I can promise you."

"Intrigues again, always intrigues! Thank you, I distrust them now, and Monsieur the Cardinal has enlightened me on that score."

"The Cardinal!" cried Madame Bonacieux. "You have seen the Cardinal?"

"He sent for me," replied the mercer proudly.

"And you answered his summons, imprudent man that you are!"

"I must say I had no choice whether to go or not, for I was between two guards. It is also true that, since I did not know His Eminence then, if I could have avoided that visit, I would have been delighted."

"Then he mistreated you? He threatened you?"

"He offered me his hand and called me his friend—his friend! Do you hear, madame?—I am the friend of the great Cardinal!"

"The great Cardinal!"

"Would you by chance contest that title, madame?"

"I contest nothing, but I tell you that a minister's favor is ephemeral, and that one must be mad to attach oneself to a minister; there are powers above his, which do not rest on the caprice of a man or the outcome of an event; it is to those powers that one must rally."

"I am sorry, madame, but I know no other power than that of the great man whom I have the honor to serve."

"You serve the Cardinal?"

"Yes, madame, and as his servant I will not allow you to engage in plots against the safety of the State, nor to serve the intrigues of a woman who is not French and who has a Spanish heart. Fortunately, the great Cardinal is there; his vigilant eye watches and penetrates to the very depths of the heart."

Bonacieux was repeating word for word a phrase he had heard the Comte de Rochefort say; but the poor woman, who had counted on her husband and, in that hope, had answered for him to the queen, nevertheless trembled at the danger into which she had nearly thrown herself and at the helplessness in which she found herself. However, knowing her husband's weakness and especially his greed, she did not despair of bringing him around to her ends.

"Ah! you are a Cardinalist, monsieur," she cried. "Ah! you serve the party of those who mistreat your wife and insult your queen!"

"Private interests are nothing before the interests of all. I am for those who save the State," said Bonacieux emphatically.

This was another phrase from the Comte de Rochefort, which he had remembered and found an opportunity to use.

"And do you know what this State you speak of is?" said Madame Bonacieux, shrugging her shoulders. "Be content to be a plain bourgeois, without any finesse, and turn toward the side that offers you the most advantages."

"Hey! hey!" said Bonacieux, tapping a bag with a rounded belly that gave a silvery sound; "what do you say to this, Madame Preacher?"

"Where does this money come from?"

"You don't guess?"

"From the Cardinal?"

"From him and from my friend the Comte de Rochefort."

"The Comte de Rochefort! But it was he who abducted me!"

"That may be, madame."

"And you accept money from that man?"

"Did you not tell me that this abduction was entirely political?"

"Yes; but this abduction aimed to make me betray my mistress, to tear from me by torture confessions that could compromise the honor and perhaps the life of my august mistress."

"Madame," replied Bonacieux, "your august mistress is a perfidious Spaniard, and what the Cardinal does is well done."

"Monsieur," said the young woman, "I knew you were cowardly, miserly, and stupid, but I did not know you were infamous!"

"Madame," said Bonacieux, who had never seen his wife angry, and who recoiled before conjugal wrath, "madame, what are you saying?"

"I say that you are a wretch!" continued Madame Bonacieux, seeing that she was regaining some influence over her husband. "Ah! you meddle in politics, do you! And Cardinalist politics at that! Ah! you sell yourself, body and soul, to the devil for money."

"No, but to the Cardinal."

"It's the same thing!" cried the young woman. "Whoever says Richelieu says Satan."

"Silence, madame, silence! You might be heard!"

"Yes, you are right, and I would be ashamed for you of your cowardice."

"But what do you demand of me? Let's see!"

"I told you: that you leave at once, monsieur, that you loyally accomplish the commission with which I deign to charge you, and on that condition I forget everything, I forgive, and there is more—" she held out her hand—"I return you my friendship."

Bonacieux was a coward and a miser; but he loved his wife; he was moved. A man of fifty does not long hold a grudge against a woman of twenty-three. Madame Bonacieux saw that he hesitated.

"Come, are you decided?" she said.

"But, my dear friend, just think a little about what you are asking of me. London is far from Paris, very far, and perhaps the commission with which you charge me is not without danger."

"What does it matter, if you avoid it?"

"Look, Madame Bonacieux," said the mercer, "look, I absolutely refuse: intrigues frighten me. I have seen the Bastille, I have. Brrr! It's frightful, the Bastille! Just thinking of it gives me goosebumps. I was threatened with torture. Do you know what torture is? Wooden wedges that are driven between your legs until the bones splinter! No, absolutely, I will not go. And damn it! Why don't you go yourself? For truly, I think I have been mistaken about you until now: I think you are a man, and one of the most fiery at that!"

"And you, you are a woman, a miserable woman, stupid and brutish. Ah! you are afraid! Well then, if you do not leave this instant, I will have you arrested by order of the queen, and I will have you put in that Bastille you fear so much."

Bonacieux fell into deep reflection; he carefully weighed the two angers in his mind, that of the cardinal and that of the queen: that of the cardinal won out enormously.

"Have me arrested on behalf of the queen," he said, "and I will appeal to His Eminence."

For once, Madame Bonacieux saw that she had gone too far, and she was horrified at having advanced so far. She contemplated for a moment with fear that stupid face, with an invincible resolve, like that of fools who are afraid.

"Well, so be it!" she said. "Perhaps, after all, you are right: a man knows more than women in politics, and especially you, Monsieur Bonacieux, who have spoken with the cardinal. And yet, it is very hard," she added, "that my husband, a man on whose affection I thought I could count, should treat me so ungraciously and not satisfy my whim."

"The fact is that your whims can lead too far," replied Bonacieux triumphantly, "and I distrust them."

"I will renounce them, then," said the young woman, sighing; "very well, let us speak no more of it."

"If at least you would tell me what thing I am to do in London," resumed Bonacieux, remembering a little late that Rochefort had recommended him to try to surprise his wife's secrets.

"It is useless for you to know," said the young woman, whom an instinctive distrust now drove back; "it was a trifle such as women desire, a purchase on which there was much to be gained."

But the more the young woman defended herself, the more, on the contrary, Bonacieux thought that the secret she refused to confide was important. He resolved therefore to run at once to the Comte de Rochefort and tell him that the queen was seeking a messenger to send to London.

"Pardon me if I leave you, my dear Madame Bonacieux," he said; "but not knowing that you would come to see me, I had made an appointment with one of my friends; I will return instantly, and if you will wait only half a minute, as soon as I have finished with that friend, I will come back for you, and since it is getting late, I will escort you back to the Louvre."

"Thank you, monsieur," replied Madame Bonacieux; "you are not brave enough to be of any use to me, and I will return to the Louvre quite alone."

"As you please, Madame Bonacieux," replied the ex-mercer. "Shall I see you soon?"

"Doubtless; next week, I hope, my service will leave me some liberty, and I will take advantage of it to come back and put our affairs in order, which must be somewhat disturbed."

"Very well; I will wait for you. You are not angry with me?"

"I? Not in the least."

"Until soon, then?"

"Until soon."

Bonacieux kissed his wife's hand and went away quickly.

"Well," said Madame Bonacieux, when her husband had closed the street door and she found herself alone, "all that was needed for that fool was to become a Cardinalist! And I who had answered for him to the queen, I who had promised my poor mistress... Ah! my God, my God! She will take me for one of those wretched women who swarm in the palace and who have been placed near her to spy on her! Ah! Monsieur Bonacieux! I never loved you much; now it is much worse: I hate you! And on my word, you shall pay me for it!"

At the moment she said these words, a knock from above made her raise her head, and a voice, which reached her through the ceiling, called to her:

"Dear Madame Bonacieux, open the little door in the hallway for me, and I will come down to you."

“Stories of the world, in your language.”