Part 21

The king started with joy and the cardinal with anger; however, distant as they were from the queen, they could not count the diamond tags; the queen had them, but did she have ten or twelve?

At that moment, the violins gave the signal for the ballet. The king advanced toward Madame the President, with whom he was to dance, and His Royal Highness Monsieur with the queen. They took their places, and the ballet began.

The king danced opposite the queen, and every time he passed near her, he devoured with his eyes those diamond tags, of which he could not know the count. A cold sweat covered the cardinal's brow.

The ballet lasted an hour; it had sixteen figures.

The ballet ended amidst the applause of the entire hall, each gentleman escorted his lady back to her place; but the king took advantage of the privilege he had of leaving his lady where she was, to advance quickly toward the queen.

"I thank you, madame," he said to her, "for the deference you have shown to my wishes, but I believe you are missing two diamond tags, and I bring them back to you."

At these words, he handed the queen the two diamond tags that the cardinal had given him.

"How, Sire!" exclaimed the young queen, feigning surprise, "you give me two more; but then that will make fourteen?"

Indeed, the king counted, and the twelve diamond tags were found on His Majesty's shoulder.

The king called the cardinal:

"Well, what does this mean, Monsieur le Cardinal?" demanded the king in a severe tone.

"It means, Sire," replied the cardinal, "that I wished to have these two diamond tags accepted by Her Majesty, and not daring to offer them myself, I adopted this means."

"And I am all the more grateful to Your Eminence," replied Anne of Austria, with a smile that proved she was not duped by this ingenious gallantry, "as I am certain that these two diamond tags cost you as much alone as the other twelve cost His Majesty."

Then, having bowed to the king and the cardinal, the queen resumed her path to the chamber where she had dressed and where she was to undress.

The attention we have been obliged to give during the beginning of this chapter to the illustrious characters we have introduced there has distracted us for a moment from him to whom Anne of Austria owed the unheard-of triumph she had just won over the cardinal, and who, confounded, unknown, lost in the crowd packed at one of the doors, watched from there this scene comprehensible only to four people: the king, the queen, His Eminence, and himself.

The queen had just regained her chamber, and d'Artagnan was preparing to withdraw, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder; he turned around, and saw a young woman who made a sign for him to follow. This young woman had her face covered with a black velvet mask, but despite this precaution, which, moreover, was taken much more for others than for him, he instantly recognized his usual guide, the light and witty Madame Bonacieux.

The day before they had hardly seen each other at the Swiss Germain's, where d'Artagnan had sent for her. The haste the young woman had to carry to the queen that excellent news of the happy return of her messenger meant that the two lovers exchanged barely a few words. D'Artagnan therefore followed Madame Bonacieux, driven by a double feeling, love and curiosity. During the entire route, and as the corridors became more deserted, d'Artagnan wanted to stop the young woman, to seize her, to contemplate her, were it only for an instant; but, lively as a bird, she always slipped between his hands, and when he wished to speak, her finger placed on her mouth with an imperious little gesture full of charm reminded him that he was under the sway of a power to which he must blindly obey, and which forbade him even the slightest complaint; at last, after a minute or two of twists and turns, Madame Bonacieux opened a door and introduced the young man into a completely dark closet. There she made him a new sign of silence, and opening a second door hidden by a tapestry, through whose openings a bright light suddenly poured, she disappeared.

D'Artagnan remained motionless for an instant, wondering where he was, but soon a ray of light that penetrated through that room, the warm, perfumed air that reached him, the conversation of two or three women, in language at once respectful and elegant, the word "Majesty" several times repeated, clearly indicated to him that he was in a closet adjoining the queen's chamber.

The young man kept in the shadows and waited.

The queen appeared gay and happy, which seemed greatly to astonish the people around her, who were, on the contrary, accustomed to seeing her almost always worried. The queen attributed this joyful feeling to the beauty of the fête, to the pleasure the ballet had given her, and as it is not permitted to contradict a queen, whether she smiles or weeps, everyone enhanced the gallantry of the aldermen of the city of Paris.

Although d'Artagnan did not know the queen, he distinguished her voice from the others, first by a slight foreign accent, then by that feeling of domination naturally impressed upon all sovereign words. He heard her approach and move away from that open door, and two or three times he saw even the shadow of a body intercept the light.

At last, suddenly, an adorable hand and arm, in shape and whiteness, passed through the tapestry; d'Artagnan understood that it was his reward: he threw himself on his knees, seized that hand, and respectfully pressed his lips to it; then the hand withdrew, leaving in his an object which he recognized as a ring; immediately the door closed again, and d'Artagnan found himself in complete darkness.

D'Artagnan put the ring on his finger and waited again; it was evident that all was not yet finished.

After the reward for his devotion came the reward for his love. Moreover, the ballet had been danced, but the evening was barely begun; supper was at three o'clock, and the clock of Saint-Jean had already some time since struck a quarter to three.

Indeed, little by little the noise of voices diminished in the next room; then it was heard moving away; then the door of the closet where d'Artagnan was opened again, and Madame Bonacieux rushed in.

"You, at last!" cried d'Artagnan.

"Silence!" said the young woman, placing her hand on the young man's lips: "silence! and go away by the way you came."

"But where and when shall I see you again?" cried d'Artagnan.

"A note you will find on returning home will tell you. Go, go!"

And at these words she opened the corridor door and pushed d'Artagnan out of the closet.

D'Artagnan obeyed like a child, without resistance and without any objection, which proves that he was truly in love.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE RENDEZVOUS

D'Artagnan returned home at a run, and although it was past three in the morning, and he had the worst quarters of Paris to cross, he met with no bad encounter. It is known that there is a god for drunkards and lovers.

He found the door of his alley ajar, went up his stairs, and knocked softly in a manner agreed upon between him and his lackey. Planchet, whom he had sent back two hours earlier from the Hôtel de Ville, telling him to wait, came to open the door.

"Has anyone brought a letter for me?" asked d'Artagnan eagerly.

"No one has brought a letter, sir," replied Planchet; "but there is one that came of itself."

"What do you mean, you idiot?"

"I mean that on returning, although I had the key to your apartment in my pocket and that key never left me, I found a letter on the green cloth of the table in your bedroom."

"And where is that letter?"

"I left it where it was, sir. It is not natural for letters to enter people's houses that way. If the window were open, or even ajar, I would not say so; but no, everything was hermetically sealed. Sir, take care, for there is certainly some sorcery underneath."

During this time, the young man rushed into the room and opened the letter; it was from Madame Bonacieux, and conceived in these terms:

"There are warm thanks to give you and to transmit to you. Find yourself this evening about ten o'clock at Saint-Cloud, opposite the pavilion that stands at the corner of Monsieur d'Estrées' house.

C. B."

On reading this letter, d'Artagnan felt his heart dilate and contract with that sweet spasm that tortures and caresses the hearts of lovers.

It was the first note he had received, it was the first rendezvous ever granted to him. His heart, swollen with the intoxication of joy, felt ready to faint on the threshold of that earthly paradise called love.

"Well, sir!" said Planchet, who had seen his master turn red and pale successively; "well! was I not right in guessing it is some bad business?"

"You are mistaken, Planchet," replied d'Artagnan; "and the proof is that here is a crown for you to drink to my health."

"I thank sir for the crown he gives me, and I promise to follow his instructions exactly; but it is none the less true that letters that enter closed houses that way..."

"Fall from heaven, my friend, fall from heaven."

"Then sir is content?" asked Planchet.

"My dear Planchet, I am the happiest of men!"

"And I can profit by sir's happiness to go to bed?"

"Yes, go."

"May all the blessings of heaven fall on sir, but it is none the less true that this letter..."

And Planchet withdrew, shaking his head with an air of doubt that the liberality of d'Artagnan had not entirely erased.

Left alone, d'Artagnan read and reread his note, then he kissed twenty times the lines traced by the hand of his beautiful mistress. At last he went to bed, fell asleep, and dreamed golden dreams.

At seven in the morning he got up and called Planchet, who at the second call opened the door, his face still not cleaned of the anxieties of the previous evening.

"Planchet," said d'Artagnan, "I am going out for the whole day, perhaps; you are therefore free until seven in the evening; but at seven in the evening, hold yourself ready with two horses."

"Come now!" said Planchet; "it seems we are going to have our skin pierced in several places again."

"You will take your musketoon and your pistols."

"Well, what did I say?" cried Planchet. "There, I was sure of it, cursed letter!"

"But reassure yourself, idiot, it is simply a pleasure trip."

"Yes! like the pleasure trips of the other day, where it rained bullets and where we stepped on caltrops."

"Moreover, if you are afraid, Monsieur Planchet," resumed d'Artagnan, "I will go without you; I prefer to travel alone than to have a companion who trembles."

"Sir does me wrong," said Planchet; "I thought he had seen me at work."

"Yes, but I thought you had used up all your courage at one go."

"Sir will see that on occasion I still have some left; only I beg sir not to be too prodigal of it, if he wishes me to have it for a long time."

"Do you think you have still a certain amount to spend this evening?"

"I hope so."

"Well, I count on you."

"At the appointed hour I shall be ready; only I thought sir had but one horse in the guards' stable."

"Perhaps there is still only one at this moment, but this evening there will be four."

"It seems our journey was a remount journey?"

"Exactly," said d'Artagnan.

And having made a final sign of recommendation to Planchet, he went out.

Monsieur Bonacieux was at his door. D'Artagnan's intention was to pass without speaking to the worthy mercer; but the latter made such a sweet and benign bow, that his tenant was forced not only to return it, but also to enter into conversation with him.

Besides, how could he not have a little condescension for a husband whose wife had given him a rendezvous that very evening at Saint-Cloud, opposite Monsieur d'Estrées' pavilion? D'Artagnan approached with the most amiable air he could assume.

The conversation fell naturally on the incarceration of the poor man. Monsieur Bonacieux, who did not know that d'Artagnan had overheard his conversation with the stranger from Meung, told his young tenant about the persecutions of that monster Monsieur de Laffemas, whom he never ceased to call during his entire narration the cardinal's executioner, and he expatiated at length on the Bastille, the bolts, the wickets, the air holes, the gratings, and the instruments of torture.

D'Artagnan listened with exemplary complaisance; then, when he had finished:

"And Madame Bonacieux," he said, "do you know who carried her off? for I do not forget that it is to that unfortunate circumstance I owe the happiness of making your acquaintance."

"Ah!" said Monsieur Bonacieux, "they took good care not to tell me that, and my wife on her part swore to me by all the gods that she did not know. But you yourself," continued Monsieur Bonacieux, with an air of perfect bonhomie, "what has become of you all these past days? I have neither seen you nor your friends, and it is not on the pavement of Paris, I think, that you gathered all the dust that Planchet was brushing from your boots yesterday."

"You are right, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux; my friends and I have made a little journey."

"Far from here?"

"Oh! good heavens, no, only about forty leagues; we went to take Monsieur Athos to the waters of Forges, where my friends have stayed."

"And you have returned, you, have you not?" resumed Monsieur Bonacieux, giving his countenance its most knowing air. "A handsome fellow like you does not obtain long leaves from his mistress, and we were impatiently awaited in Paris, were we not?"

"Upon my word," said the young man, laughing, "I confess it to you, all the more easily, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, since I see that nothing can be hidden from you. Yes, I was expected, and very impatiently, I assure you."

A slight cloud passed over Bonacieux's brow, but so slight that d'Artagnan did not perceive it.

"And we are going to be rewarded for our diligence?" continued the mercer, with a slight alteration in his voice, an alteration that d'Artagnan no more noticed than he had done the momentary cloud that an instant before had darkened the face of the worthy man.

"Ah! you play the good apostle!" said d'Artagnan, laughing.

"No, what I say to you," resumed Bonacieux, "is only to know if we are returning late."

"Why this question, my dear host?" asked d'Artagnan; "do you intend to wait for me?"

"No, it is that since my arrest and the robbery committed at my house, I am frightened every time I hear a door open, and especially at night. Upon my word, what would you have! I am not a man of the sword, I!"

"Well, do not be frightened if I return at one, two, or three in the morning; do not be frightened even if I do not return at all."

This time Bonacieux became so pale that d'Artagnan could not help noticing it, and asked him what was the matter.

"Nothing," replied Bonacieux; "nothing. Only since my misfortunes, I am subject to sudden faintnesses, and I just felt a shiver pass over me. Pay no attention to that, you who have only to concern yourself with being happy."

"Then I have occupation, for I am so."

"Not yet, wait then; you said: this evening."

"Well, this evening will come, thank God! and perhaps you await it with as much impatience as I. Perhaps this evening Madame Bonacieux will visit the conjugal domicile."

"Madame Bonacieux is not free this evening," replied the husband gravely; "she is detained at the Louvre by her service."

"So much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse; when I am happy, I wish everyone were so; but it seems that is not possible."

And the young man went away, laughing aloud at the jest which he alone, he thought, could understand.

"Enjoy yourself well!" replied Bonacieux in a sepulchral tone.

But d'Artagnan was already too far away to hear him, and had he heard him, in the state of mind he was in, he certainly would not have noticed it.

He directed his steps toward the Hôtel de Tréville; his visit of the previous day had been, it will be remembered, very short and very little explanatory.

He found Monsieur de Tréville in the joy of his soul. The king and queen had been charming to him at the ball. It is true that the cardinal had been perfectly sullen.

At one in the morning, he had retired under pretense of being indisposed. As for Their Majesties, they had not returned to the Louvre until six in the morning.

"Now," said Monsieur de Tréville, lowering his voice and questioning with his eyes all the corners of the apartment to see if they were quite alone, "now let us talk of you, my young friend, for it is evident that your happy return has something to do with the king's joy, the queen's triumph, and His Eminence's humiliation. It is a matter of keeping yourself well on guard."

"What have I to fear," replied d'Artagnan, "so long as I have the happiness to enjoy the favor of Their Majesties?"

"Everything, believe me. The cardinal is not the man to forget a mystification until he has settled his accounts with the mystifier, and the mystifier seems to me to be a certain Gascon of my acquaintance."

"Do you think the cardinal is as well informed as you and knows that it was I who went to London?"

"The devil! you have been to London. Is it from London you brought back that beautiful diamond that glitters on your finger? Take care, my dear d'Artagnan, a gift from an enemy is not a good thing; is there not a certain Latin verse about that... Wait a bit..."

"Yes, no doubt," resumed d'Artagnan, who had never been able to get the first rule of the rudiment into his head, and who, through ignorance, had been the despair of his preceptor; "yes, no doubt, there must be one."

"There certainly is one," said Monsieur de Tréville, who had a tinge of letters, and Monsieur de Benserade quoted it to me the other day... Wait a bit... Ah! I have it:

... Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.

"Which means: 'Beware of the enemy who makes you presents.'"

"This diamond does not come from an enemy, sir," resumed d'Artagnan; "it comes from the queen."

"From the queen! oh! oh!" said Monsieur de Tréville. "Indeed, it is a true royal jewel, worth a thousand pistoles as a penny. By whom did the queen send you this gift?"

"She gave it to me herself."

"Where?"

"In the closet adjoining the chamber where she changed her toilet."

"How?"

"By giving me her hand to kiss."

"You kissed the queen's hand!" cried Monsieur de Tréville, looking at d'Artagnan.

"Her Majesty did me the honor of granting me this grace!"

"And that in the presence of witnesses? Rash, three times rash!"

"No, sir, reassure yourself, no one saw her," resumed d'Artagnan. And he recounted to Monsieur de Tréville how things had passed.

"Oh, women, women!" cried the old soldier; "I know them well by their romantic imagination; everything that smacks of the mysterious charms them; so you have seen the arm, that is all; you might meet the queen, and you would not recognize her; she might meet you, and she would not know who you are."

"No, but thanks to this diamond...," resumed the young man.

"Listen," said Monsieur de Tréville; "will you let me give you a piece of advice, good advice, a friend's advice?"

"You will do me honor, sir," said d'Artagnan.

"Well, go to the first jeweler you find and sell him this diamond for whatever price he will give you; however Jewish he may be, you will always get eight hundred pistoles. Pistols have no name, young man, and this ring has a terrible one, which may betray him who wears it."

"Sell this ring! a ring that comes from my sovereign! never," said d'Artagnan.

"Then turn the setting inward, poor fool, for it is known that a Gascon cadet does not find such jewels in his mother's casket."

"Do you think, then, that I have something to fear?" asked d'Artagnan.

"That is to say, young man, that he who sleeps on a mine whose fuse is lit must consider himself in safety compared to you."

"The devil!" said d'Artagnan, whom the confident tone of Monsieur de Tréville was beginning to alarm; "the devil! what is to be done?"

"Keep yourself on your guard always and above all things. The cardinal has a tenacious memory and a long arm; believe me, he will play you some trick."

"But which?"

"Eh! do I know? Has he not at his service all the tricks of the devil? The least that can happen to you is that you will be arrested."

"What! would they dare to arrest a man in the service of His Majesty?"

"Pardieu! they were much hindered about arresting Athos! In any case, young man, believe a man who has been at court for thirty years; do not lull yourself into security, or you are lost. On the contrary, and it is I who tell you, see enemies everywhere. If anyone picks a quarrel with you, avoid it, were it a child of ten years who picks it; if you are attacked by night or day, retreat without shame; if you cross a bridge, test the planks, for fear a plank gives way under your foot; if you pass a house that is being built, look up, for fear a stone fall on your head; if you return late, have your lackey follow you, and let your lackey be armed, if, however, you are sure of your lackey. Mistrust everyone, your friend, your brother, your mistress, your mistress above all."

D'Artagnan blushed.

"My mistress," he repeated mechanically; "and why her rather than another?"

"Because a mistress is one of the cardinal's favorite means; he has no more expeditious one; a woman will sell you for ten pistoles, witness Delilah. Do you know the Scriptures, eh?"

D'Artagnan thought of the rendezvous that Madame Bonacieux had given him for that very evening; but we must say, to the praise of our hero, that the bad opinion Monsieur de Tréville had of women in general did not inspire the very least little suspicion against his pretty hostess.

"But, by the way," resumed Monsieur de Tréville, "what has become of your three companions?"

"I was going to ask you if you had heard any news of them."

"None, sir."

"Well, I left them on my road: Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel on his hands; Aramis at Crèvecœur, with a ball in his shoulder; and Athos at Amiens, with an accusation of counterfeiting on his body."

"See that!" said Monsieur de Tréville; "and how did you escape?"

“Stories of the world, in your language.”