Part 35

D'Artagnan was so beside himself that, without worrying about what would become of Ketty, he raced halfway across Paris and stopped only at Athos's door. The distraction of his mind, the terror that spurred him on, the shouts of a few patrols that set off in pursuit of him, and the jeers of some passersby who, despite the early hour, were going about their business, only hastened his flight.

He crossed the courtyard, climbed the two flights to Athos's rooms, and knocked at the door as if to break it down.

Grimaud came to open it, his eyes puffy with sleep. D'Artagnan rushed into the antechamber with such force that he nearly knocked him over as he entered.

Despite the poor fellow's habitual muteness, this time his speech returned to him.

"Hey, there, there!" he cried. "What do you want, you streetwalker? What are you looking for, you hussy?"

D'Artagnan pushed back his headdress and freed his hands from under his cloak. At the sight of his mustache and his naked sword, the poor devil realized he was dealing with a man.

He then thought it was some assassin.

"Help! Assistance! Help!" he cried.

"Be quiet, you wretch!" said the young man. "I am d'Artagnan—don't you recognize me? Where is your master?"

"You, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried Grimaud, terrified. "Impossible."

"Grimaud," said Athos, coming out of his room in his dressing gown, "I believe you are permitting yourself to speak."

"Ah! Monsieur! It's just that—"

"Silence."

Grimaud contented himself with pointing d'Artagnan out to his master.

Athos recognized his comrade, and, phlegmatic as he was, he burst into a laugh that was well justified by the strange masquerade before his eyes: headdress askew, skirts falling over his shoes, sleeves rolled up, and mustache stiff with emotion.

"Don't laugh, my friend," cried d'Artagnan. "In heaven's name, don't laugh, for, upon my soul, I tell you, this is no laughing matter."

And he spoke these words with such solemn air and such genuine terror that Athos immediately took his hands, exclaiming:

"Are you wounded, my friend? You are very pale!"

"No, but a terrible thing has just happened to me. Are you alone, Athos?"

"Pardieu! Whom would you expect to be with me at this hour?"

"Good, good."

And d'Artagnan rushed into Athos's room.

"Well, speak!" said the latter, closing the door and shooting the bolts so they would not be disturbed. "Has the king died? Have you killed Monsieur le Cardinal? You are completely upset; come now, tell me, for I am truly dying of worry."

"Athos," said d'Artagnan, stripping off his woman's clothes and appearing in his shirt, "prepare yourself to hear an incredible, unheard-of story."

"First take this dressing gown," said the musketeer to his friend.

D'Artagnan put on the dressing gown, taking one sleeve for another, so agitated was he still.

"Well?" said Athos.

"Well," replied d'Artagnan, bending toward Athos's ear and lowering his voice, "Milady is branded with a fleur-de-lis on her shoulder."

"Ah!" cried the musketeer, as if he had received a bullet in his heart.

"Come now," said d'Artagnan, "are you sure that the _other_ one is truly dead?"

"The _other_?" said Athos, in a voice so hollow d'Artagnan could hardly hear him.

"Yes, the one you told me about one day at Amiens."

Athos uttered a groan and let his head fall into his hands.

"This one," continued d'Artagnan, "is a woman of twenty-six to twenty-eight years old."

"Blonde," said Athos, "isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Light eyes, of a strange brightness, with black lashes and brows?"

"Yes."

"Tall, well-built? She is missing a tooth near the left eye-tooth."

"Yes."

"The fleur-de-lis is small, reddish in color, and somewhat effaced by layers of paste applied over it."

"Yes."

"Yet you say she is English!"

"She is called Milady, but she may be French. Nevertheless, Lord de Winter is only her brother-in-law."

"I want to see her, d'Artagnan."

"Take care, Athos, take care; you wanted to kill her—she is capable of doing the same to you and not missing."

"She will not dare say anything, for that would be to denounce herself."

"She is capable of anything! Have you ever seen her in a fury?"

"No," said Athos.

"A tigress, a panther! Ah, my dear Athos! I am terribly afraid I have drawn down upon both of us a terrible vengeance!"

D'Artagnan then told everything: Milady's insane anger and her threats of death.

"You are right, and upon my soul, I would give my life for a hair of yours," said Athos. "Fortunately, we leave Paris the day after tomorrow; we are going, in all probability, to La Rochelle, and once we are gone—"

"She will follow you to the ends of the earth, Athos, if she recognizes you; so let her hatred vent itself on me alone."

"Ah, my dear fellow! What does it matter to me if she kills me?" said Athos. "Do you by any chance think I cling to life?"

"There is some horrible mystery beneath all this, Athos! This woman is the cardinal's spy, I am sure of it!"

"In that case, take care of yourself. If the cardinal does not hold you in high admiration for the London affair, he holds you in great hatred; but since, when all is said and done, he can reproach you with nothing openly, and since hatred must be satisfied, especially when it is a cardinal's hatred, take care of yourself! If you go out, do not go out alone; if you eat, take your precautions; distrust everything, even your own shadow."

"Fortunately," said d'Artagnan, "it is only a matter of getting through safely until the evening of the day after tomorrow, for once we are with the army, we shall have, I hope, only men to fear."

"In the meantime," said Athos, "I renounce my plans for seclusion, and I am going everywhere with you. You must return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs—I will accompany you."

"But near as it is from here," replied d'Artagnan, "I cannot go back like this."

"True," said Athos. And he rang the bell.

Grimaud entered.

Athos motioned for him to go to d'Artagnan's lodgings and bring back some clothes.

Grimaud replied with another sign that he understood perfectly, and left.

"Ah, well! But this does nothing to advance our equipment, dear friend," said Athos. "For, if I am not mistaken, you left all your gear at Milady's, who will doubtless not have the courtesy to return it to you. Fortunately, you have the sapphire."

"The sapphire is yours, my dear Athos! Did you not tell me it was a family ring?"

"Yes, my father bought it for two thousand crowns, as he once told me; it was part of the wedding gifts he made to my mother, and it is magnificent. My mother gave it to me, and I, fool that I was, rather than keep this ring as a holy relic, I in my turn gave it to that wretched woman."

"Then, my dear fellow, take back this ring, to which I understand you must be attached."

"I, take back this ring after it has passed through the hands of that infamous creature! Never! This ring is sullied, d'Artagnan."

"Sell it, then."

"Sell a diamond that came from my mother! I confess I would regard that as a profanation."

"Then pawn it. They will lend you a thousand crowns on it. With that sum you will be above your difficulties, and then, at the first money that comes in, you can redeem it and take it back washed clean of its old stains, for it will have passed through the hands of usurers."

Athos smiled.

"You are a charming companion," he said, "my dear d'Artagnan; you raise poor spirits in affliction with your eternal gaiety. Well, yes, let us pawn this ring, but on one condition!"

"Which is?"

"That there will be five hundred crowns for you and five hundred for me."

"Are you thinking of that, Athos? I do not need a quarter of that sum, I who am in the Guards, and by selling my saddle I could raise it. What do I need? A horse for Planchet, that is all. Besides, you forget that I also have a ring."

"To which you are even more attached, it seems to me, than I am to mine; at least I thought I noticed it."

"Yes, for in an extreme circumstance it can pull us not only out of some great difficulty but also out of some great danger; it is not only a precious diamond but also an enchanted talisman."

"I do not understand you, but I believe what you tell me. So let us return to my ring, or rather to yours; you will take half the sum we are given on it, or I will throw it into the Seine, and I doubt that, like Polycrates, some fish will be obliging enough to bring it back to us."

"Well, then, I accept!" said d'Artagnan.

At that moment Grimaud returned, accompanied by Planchet; the latter, anxious about his master and curious to know what had happened to him, had taken advantage of the opportunity and brought the clothes himself.

D'Artagnan dressed, and Athos did likewise; then, when both were ready to go out, the latter made a sign to Grimaud like a man taking aim; he immediately unhooked his musketoon and prepared to accompany his master.

Athos and d'Artagnan, followed by their lackeys, arrived without incident at the Rue des Fossoyeurs. Bonacieux was on the doorstep; he looked at d'Artagnan with a mocking air.

"Well, my dear lodger!" he said. "Hurry up, you have a pretty young girl waiting for you at your place, and women, you know, do not like to be kept waiting!"

"It is Ketty!" cried d'Artagnan.

And he rushed into the hallway.

Indeed, on the landing leading to his room, huddled against his door, he found the poor girl, all trembling. As soon as she saw him:

"You promised me your protection, you promised to save me from her anger," she said. "Remember, it is you who ruined me!"

"Yes, no doubt," said d'Artagnan. "Be calm, Ketty. But what happened after I left?"

"Do I know?" said Ketty. "At her screams, the lackeys rushed in; she was mad with rage; she vomited every curse that exists against you. Then I thought she would remember that it was through my room that you had entered hers, and that she would then realize I was your accomplice; I took the little money I had, my most precious clothes, and I fled."

"Poor child! But what am I to do with you? I leave the day after tomorrow."

"Whatever you wish, Monsieur le Chevalier. Get me out of Paris, get me out of France."

"I cannot, however, take you with me to the siege of La Rochelle," said d'Artagnan.

"No, but you can place me in the provinces, with some lady of your acquaintance—in your own country, for instance."

"Ah! My dear friend! In my country the ladies do not have chambermaids. But wait—I have just the thing for you. Planchet, go and fetch Aramis for me. Have him come at once. We have something very important to tell him."

"I understand," said Athos. "But why not Porthos? It seems to me his marquise—"

"The marquise of Porthos has her husband's clerks dress her," said d'Artagnan, laughing. "Besides, Ketty would not want to live in the Rue aux Ours, would you, Ketty?"

"I will live wherever you wish," said Ketty, "provided I am well hidden and no one knows where I am."

"Now, Ketty, since we are about to part, and consequently you are no longer jealous of me—"

"Monsieur le Chevalier, from near or far," said Ketty, "I shall always love you."

"Where the devil does constancy go to nest?" murmured Athos.

"I too," said d'Artagnan, "I too shall always love you, be assured. But come, answer me. I attach great importance now to the question I am going to ask you: have you never heard tell of a young lady who was abducted one night?"

"Wait, then… Oh! My God! Monsieur le Chevalier, do you still love that woman?"

"No, it is one of my friends who loves her. Look—here is Athos."

"I!" cried Athos, with an accent like a man who perceives he is about to step on a snake.

"Certainly, you!" said d'Artagnan, squeezing Athos's hand. "You know well the interest we all take in that poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Ketty will say nothing—will you, Ketty? You understand, my child," continued d'Artagnan, "this is the wife of that hideous old moneybags you saw on the doorstep when you came in here."

"Oh! My God!" cried Ketty. "You remind me of my fear; provided he did not recognize me!"

"What, recognize you! You have seen that man before, then?"

"He came twice to Milady's."

"That's it. Around what time?"

"About fifteen or eighteen days ago, I think."

"Exactly."

"And he came back last night."

"Last night."

"Yes, a moment before you yourself came."

"My dear Athos, we are enveloped in a web of spies! And do you think he recognized you, Ketty?"

"I lowered my headdress when I saw him, but perhaps it was too late."

"Go downstairs, Athos—he is less suspicious of you than of me—and see if he is still at his door."

Athos went down and soon returned.

"He is gone," he said, "and the house is closed."

"He has gone to make his report and say that all the pigeons are now in the dovecote."

"Well, then, let us fly away," said Athos, "and leave only Planchet here to bring us news."

"One moment! What about Aramis, whom we sent for?"

"True," said Athos. "Let us wait for Aramis."

At that moment Aramis entered.

They explained the matter to him and told him how urgent it was that among all his high connections he should find a place for Ketty.

Aramis reflected for a moment and said, blushing:

"Will this really be of service to you, d'Artagnan?"

"I shall be grateful to you all my life."

"Well, Madame de Bois-Tracy asked me, for one of her friends who lives in the provinces, I believe, to find a reliable chambermaid; and if you can, my dear d'Artagnan, vouch for Mademoiselle—"

"Oh! Monsieur!" cried Ketty. "I shall be utterly devoted, be assured, to the person who gives me the means to leave Paris."

"Then," said Aramis, "that works out perfectly."

He sat down at a table and wrote a short note, sealed it with a ring, and gave the note to Ketty.

"Now, my child," said d'Artagnan, "you know it is no better for us here than for you. So let us part. We shall meet again in better days."

"And whenever we meet again, and wherever it may be," said Ketty, "you will find me loving you still as I love you today."

"A gambler's oath," said Athos, while d'Artagnan went to escort Ketty to the stairs.

A moment later, the three young men parted, agreeing to meet at four o'clock at Athos's place, and leaving Planchet to guard the house.

Aramis returned home, and Athos and d'Artagnan concerned themselves with the pawn of the sapphire.

As our Gascon had foreseen, they easily found three hundred pistoles on the ring. Moreover, the Jew announced that if they wished to sell it to him, as it would make a magnificent pendant for a pair of earrings, he would give up to five hundred pistoles for it.

Athos and d'Artagnan, with the activity of two soldiers and the knowledge of two connoisseurs, took barely three hours to purchase all the equipment for the musketeer. Moreover, Athos was easy to please and a great nobleman to his fingertips. Whenever something suited him, he paid the price asked without even trying to bargain. D'Artagnan was inclined to make observations on this point, but Athos laid his hand on his shoulder, smiling, and d'Artagnan understood that it was all very well for him, a little Gascon gentleman, to haggle, but not for a man who had the airs of a prince.

The musketeer found a superb Andalusian horse, black as jet, with fiery nostrils and fine, elegant legs, aged six years. He examined it and found it faultless. It was offered to him for a thousand livres.

Perhaps he could have had it for less; but while d'Artagnan was haggling over the price with the horse dealer, Athos counted out the hundred pistoles on the table.

Grimaud got a Picard horse, stocky and strong, which cost three hundred livres.

But with the purchase of the saddle for this last horse and Grimaud's weapons, not a sou remained of Athos's hundred and fifty pistoles. D'Artagnan offered his friend a bite of his own share, with the understanding that he would repay him later what he had borrowed.

But Athos, for all reply, merely shrugged his shoulders.

"How much was the Jew offering for the sapphire as outright purchase?" asked Athos.

"Five hundred pistoles."

"That is to say, two hundred pistoles more; a hundred pistoles for you, a hundred for me. But that is a veritable fortune, my friend. Go back to the Jew."

"What, you want—"

"This ring would decidedly remind me of too sad memories; besides, we will never have three hundred pistoles to give back to him, so we would lose two thousand livres on this deal. Go tell him the ring is his, d'Artagnan, and come back with the two hundred pistoles."

"Think it over, Athos."

"Ready cash is precious in times like these, and one must know how to make sacrifices. Go, d'Artagnan, go; Grimaud will accompany you with his musketoon."

Half an hour later, d'Artagnan returned with the two thousand livres, without having met with any mishap.

Thus Athos found in his household resources he had not expected.

CHAPTER XXXIX A VISION

By four o'clock, the four friends were therefore assembled at Athos's place. Their worries about equipment had completely disappeared, and each face now wore only the expression of its own secret anxieties; for behind every present happiness is hidden a future fear.

Suddenly, Planchet entered, bringing two letters addressed to d'Artagnan.

One was a short note, neatly folded lengthwise, with a pretty seal of green wax bearing the imprint of a dove carrying a green branch.

The other was a large square epistle, resplendent with the terrible arms of His Eminence the Cardinal-Duke.

At the sight of the little letter, d'Artagnan's heart leaped, for he thought he recognized the handwriting; and although he had seen that handwriting only once, the memory of it remained in the deepest part of his heart.

He therefore took the little epistle and unsealed it eagerly.

"Go for a walk," it said, "next Wednesday, from six to seven in the evening, on the road to Chaillot, and look carefully into the carriages that pass; but if you value your life and that of those who love you, do not say a word, do not make a movement that might lead anyone to believe you have recognized the woman who risks everything to catch a glimpse of you for an instant."

No signature.

"It is a trap," said Athos. "Do not go, d'Artagnan."

"However," said d'Artagnan, "I think I recognize the handwriting."

"It may be counterfeited," replied Athos. "At six or seven o'clock, at this time of year, the road to Chaillot is quite deserted; you might as well go for a stroll in the forest of Bondy."

"But if we all went!" said d'Artagnan. "What the devil! They will not devour all four of us; plus four lackeys; plus the horses; plus the weapons."

"And it will be an occasion to show off our equipage," said Porthos.

"But if it is a woman who writes," said Aramis, "and if that woman does not wish to be seen, remember that you would compromise her, d'Artagnan; that would be wrong on the part of a gentleman."

"We will stay behind," said Porthos, "and he alone will go forward."

"Yes, but a pistol shot is soon fired from a carriage moving at a gallop."

"Bah!" said d'Artagnan. "They will miss me. We will then catch up to the carriage and exterminate those inside. That will always be that many fewer enemies."

"He is right," said Porthos. "Battle; besides, we must try out our weapons."

"Bah! Let us indulge in this pleasure," said Aramis, in his gentle, nonchalant manner.

"As you wish," said Athos.

"Gentlemen," said d'Artagnan, "it is half past four, and we barely have time enough to be on the road to Chaillot by six o'clock."

"Besides, if we go out too late," said Porthos, "we will not be seen, which would be a pity. So let us go get ready, gentlemen."

"But this second letter," said Athos. "You are forgetting it. It seems to me the seal indicates it is well worth opening; as for me, I declare to you, my dear d'Artagnan, that I am much more concerned about it than about the little trifle you have just so gently slipped over your heart."

D'Artagnan blushed.

"Well," said the young man, "let us see, gentlemen, what His Eminence wants of me."

And d'Artagnan broke the seal and read:

"Monsieur d'Artagnan, Guard of the King, Company of des Essarts, is expected at the Palais-Cardinal this evening at eight o'clock.

"La Houdinière, "Captain of the Guards."

"The devil!" said Athos. "This is a far more worrying rendezvous than the other."

"I will go to the second after coming from the first," said d'Artagnan. "One is for seven o'clock, the other for eight; there will be time for everything."

"Hmm! I would not go," said Aramis. "A gallant knight cannot miss a rendezvous given by a lady; but a prudent gentleman may excuse himself from presenting himself to His Eminence, especially when he has some reason to believe it is not to receive compliments."

"I agree with Aramis," said Porthos.

"Gentlemen," replied d'Artagnan, "I have already received a similar invitation from His Eminence through Monsieur de Cavois; I neglected it, and the next day a great misfortune befell me! Constance disappeared. Whatever may happen, I will go."

"If you are determined," said Athos, "then go."

"But the Bastille?" said Aramis.

"Bah! You will get me out of it," replied d'Artagnan.

"Without doubt," replied Aramis and Porthos, with admirable aplomb and as if it were the simplest thing in the world, "without doubt we will get you out of it; but in the meantime, since we must leave the day after tomorrow, you would do better not to risk that Bastille."

"Let us do something better," said Athos. "Do not let him out of our sight this evening; let each of us wait at a door of the palace with three musketeers behind us; if we see any carriage with closed doors and half-suspicious leave, we will fall upon it. It has been a long time since we have had a quarrel with Monsieur le Cardinal's guards, and Monsieur de Tréville must think we are dead."

"Decidedly, Athos," said Aramis, "you were made to be an army general. What do you say to this plan, gentlemen?"

"Admirable!" repeated the young men in chorus.

"Well, then," said Porthos, "I will run to the hotel and tell our comrades to hold themselves ready for eight o'clock; the rendezvous will be on the Place du Palais-Cardinal. Meanwhile, have the lackeys saddle the horses."

"But I have no horse," said d'Artagnan. "I will go and borrow one from Monsieur de Tréville."

"That is unnecessary," said Aramis. "You will take one of mine."

"How many do you have, then?" asked d'Artagnan.

"Three," replied Aramis, smiling.

"My dear fellow!" said Athos. "You are certainly the best-mounted poet in all France and Navarre."

"Listen, my dear Aramis, you will not know what to do with three horses, will you? I don't even understand your buying three horses."

"Nor have I bought three," said Aramis.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”