Part 36

"So the third one fell from heaven for you?"

"No, the third was brought to me this very morning by a servant without livery who refused to tell me whom it belonged to and who assured me he had received orders from his master..."

"Or his mistress," interrupted d'Artagnan.

"That doesn't matter," said Aramis, blushing, "and who assured me, I say, that he had received orders from his mistress to put this horse in my stable without telling me on whose behalf it came."

"Only poets have things like that happen to them," Athos said gravely.

"Well, in that case, let's do better," said d'Artagnan. "Which of the two horses will you ride: the one you bought, or the one you were given?"

"The one I was given, without question; you understand, d'Artagnan, I cannot offer such an insult..."

"To the unknown donor," d'Artagnan continued.

"Or the mysterious donor," said Athos.

"So the one you bought becomes useless to you?"

"More or less."

"And you chose it yourself?"

"With the greatest care. The safety of the rider, as you know, almost always depends on his horse!"

"Well, sell it to me for what it cost you!"

"I was about to offer it to you, my dear d'Artagnan, giving you all the time you need to repay me this trifle."

"And how much did it cost you?"

"Eight hundred livres."

"Here are forty double pistoles, my dear friend," said d'Artagnan, pulling the sum from his pocket. "I know this is the currency you're paid for your poems."

"So you're in funds?" said Aramis.

"Rich, exceedingly rich, my dear!"

And d'Artagnan jingled the rest of his pistoles in his pocket.

"Send your saddle to the Hôtel des Mousquetaires, and they'll bring your horse here with ours."

"Very well; but it's nearly five o'clock, let's hurry."

A quarter of an hour later, Porthos appeared at one end of the Rue Férou on a magnificent Spanish jennet; Mousqueton followed on an Auvergne horse, small but sturdy. Porthos was radiant with joy and pride.

At the same time, Aramis appeared at the other end of the street mounted on a superb English charger; Bazin followed on a roan horse, leading a vigorous Mecklenburg horse by the bridle—that was d'Artagnan's mount.

The two musketeers met at the door. Athos and d'Artagnan watched them from the window.

"By heaven!" said Aramis, "you have a superb horse there, my dear Porthos."

"Yes," replied Porthos, "it's the one that was supposed to be sent to me first; a bad joke by the husband substituted the other; but the husband has since been punished, and I have obtained full satisfaction."

Planchet and Grimaud then appeared in turn, holding their masters' mounts. D'Artagnan and Athos came down, mounted beside their companions, and all four set off: Athos on the horse he owed to his wife, Aramis on the horse he owed to his mistress, Porthos on the horse he owed to his solicitor's wife, and d'Artagnan on the horse he owed to his good fortune—the best mistress of all.

The servants followed.

As Porthos had thought, the cavalcade made a fine showing; and if Madame Coquenard had been on Porthos's path and could have seen how grand he looked on his fine Spanish jennet, she would not have regretted the bleeding she had inflicted on her husband's strongbox.

Near the Louvre, the four friends met Monsieur de Tréville, who was returning from Saint-Germain. He stopped them to compliment them on their equipage, which in an instant drew a few hundred gawkers around them.

D'Artagnan took the opportunity to speak to Monsieur de Tréville about the letter with the large red seal and the ducal arms; it goes without saying that he did not breathe a word about the other letter.

Monsieur de Tréville approved of the resolution he had taken and assured him that if he had not reappeared by the next day, he would know how to find him, wherever he might be.

At that moment, the clock of the Samaritaine struck six. The four friends excused themselves, saying they had an appointment, and took leave of Monsieur de Tréville.

A gallop brought them to the road to Chaillot. The day was beginning to fade; carriages passed back and forth. D'Artagnan, followed a few paces behind by his friends, peered into the depths of the coaches but saw no familiar face.

Finally, after a quarter of an hour of waiting, and as dusk was fully falling, a carriage appeared, coming at a full gallop on the road from Sèvres. A presentiment told d'Artagnan in advance that this carriage contained the person who had given him the rendezvous. The young man himself was astonished to feel his heart beating so violently. Almost immediately, a woman's head emerged from the window, two fingers on her lips, as if to recommend silence or to send a kiss. D'Artagnan gave a slight cry of joy. This woman—or rather this apparition, for the carriage had passed with the speed of a vision—was Madame Bonacieux.

By an involuntary movement, and despite the recommendation given, d'Artagnan spurred his horse to a gallop and in a few bounds caught up with the carriage; but the window glass was hermetically sealed. The vision had disappeared.

Then d'Artagnan remembered the recommendation: "If you value your life and the lives of those who love you, remain still as if you had seen nothing."

So he stopped, trembling not for himself but for the poor woman who had evidently exposed herself to great danger by giving him this rendezvous.

The carriage continued its way, always running at full speed, plunged into Paris, and disappeared.

D'Artagnan remained rooted to the same spot, not knowing what to think. If it was Madame Bonacieux and she was returning to Paris, why this fleeting rendezvous, why this simple exchange of a glance, why this wasted kiss? If, on the other hand, it was not she—which was still quite possible, for the little daylight remaining made error easy—if it was not she, would this not be the beginning of a trap set against him using that woman as bait, knowing his love for her?

His three companions drew near him. All three had clearly seen a woman's head appear at the window, but none of them, except Athos, knew Madame Bonacieux. Athos's opinion, moreover, was that it was indeed she; but less preoccupied than d'Artagnan with that pretty face, he thought he had seen a second head, a man's head, at the back of the carriage.

"If that's the case," said d'Artagnan, "they are no doubt moving her from one prison to another. But what do they intend to do with that poor creature, and how shall I ever reach her again?"

"Friend," said Athos gravely, "remember that the dead are the only ones we are not liable to meet on earth. You know something of that, as do I, is it not so? Now, if your mistress is not dead, if it was she we just saw, you will find her again one day or another. And perhaps, my God," he added with a misanthropic tone peculiar to him, "perhaps sooner than you would like."

Seven-thirty struck. The carriage was about twenty minutes late for the given rendezvous. D'Artagnan's friends reminded him that he had a visit to make, while also pointing out that it was still time to back out.

But d'Artagnan was both stubborn and curious. He had set his mind on going to the Palais-Cardinal and finding out what His Eminence wanted to tell him. Nothing could make him change his resolution.

They arrived at the Rue Saint-Honoré, and at the Place du Palais-Cardinal they found the twelve summoned musketeers walking about, waiting for their comrades. Only then were they told what it was about.

D'Artagnan was well known in the honorable corps of the king's musketeers, where it was known that he would one day take his place; he was therefore regarded in advance as a comrade. As a result of these antecedents, everyone accepted wholeheartedly the mission for which he had been summoned; besides, it was likely a matter of playing a nasty trick on the cardinal and his people, and for such expeditions these worthy gentlemen were always ready.

Athos therefore divided them into three groups, took command of one, gave the second to Aramis and the third to Porthos, then each group went to lie in wait opposite an exit.

D'Artagnan, for his part, bravely entered through the main gate.

Although he felt strongly supported, the young man was not without unease as he climbed the grand staircase step by step. His conduct towards Milady was a little like treason, and he suspected the political relations that existed between that woman and the cardinal. Moreover, de Wardes, whom he had so badly handled, was one of His Eminence's faithful, and d'Artagnan knew that if His Eminence was terrible to his enemies, he was very attached to his friends.

"If de Wardes has told the cardinal the whole story," d'Artagnan said to himself, shaking his head, "which is not in doubt, and if he recognized me, which is probable, I must consider myself as good as a condemned man. But why did he wait until today? It's simple: Milady will have lodged a complaint against me with that hypocritical grief that makes her so interesting, and this last crime will have made the cup overflow."

"Fortunately," he added, "my good friends are below, and they will not let me be taken away without defending me. However, Monsieur de Tréville's company of musketeers cannot alone wage war on the cardinal, who commands the forces of all France, and before whom the queen is powerless and the king without will. D'Artagnan, my friend, you are brave, you have excellent qualities, but women will undo you!"

He had reached this sad conclusion when he entered the antechamber. He gave his letter to the usher on duty, who had him pass into the waiting room and then disappeared into the interior of the palace.

In this waiting room were five or six of the cardinal's guards, who, recognizing d'Artagnan and knowing that he was the one who had wounded Jussac, looked at him with a peculiar smile.

That smile seemed to d'Artagnan a bad omen; only, as our Gascon was not easily intimidated, or rather, thanks to a great natural pride of the people of his country, he did not readily show what was passing in his soul when what passed there resembled fear, he planted himself proudly before the guards and waited, hand on hip, in an attitude that was not lacking in majesty.

The usher returned and motioned for d'Artagnan to follow him. It seemed to the young man that the guards, as they watched him leave, whispered among themselves.

He followed a corridor, crossed a large salon, entered a library, and found himself face to face with a man seated at a desk writing.

The usher introduced him and withdrew without speaking. D'Artagnan remained standing and examined this man.

D'Artagnan first thought he had to do with some judge examining his dossier, but he noticed that the man at the desk was writing, or rather correcting lines of uneven length, scanning words on his fingers; he saw he was before a poet. After a moment, the poet closed his manuscript, on the cover of which was written: MIRAME, _a tragedy in five acts_, and raised his head.

D'Artagnan recognized the cardinal.

CHAPTER XL. THE CARDINAL

The cardinal rested his elbow on his manuscript, his cheek on his hand, and looked at the young man for a moment. No one had a more deeply probing eye than Cardinal Richelieu, and d'Artagnan felt that gaze run through his veins like a fever.

Nevertheless, he maintained a good countenance, holding his hat in his hand and awaiting His Eminence's pleasure, without too much pride but also without too much humility.

"Monsieur," said the cardinal, "are you a d'Artagnan from Béarn?"

"Yes, Monseigneur," replied the young man.

"There are several branches of the d'Artagnans in Tarbes and the surrounding area," said the cardinal. "To which do you belong?"

"I am the son of him who fought in the wars of religion with the great King Henry, father of His Gracious Majesty."

"That is it. You left your country about seven or eight months ago to seek your fortune in the capital?"

"Yes, Monseigneur."

"You came through Meung, where something happened to you—I no longer quite remember what, but something nonetheless."

"Monseigneur," said d'Artagnan, "here is what happened to me..."

"Unnecessary, unnecessary," said the cardinal with a smile that indicated he knew the story as well as the one who wanted to tell it. "You were recommended to Monsieur de Tréville, were you not?"

"Yes, Monseigneur; but precisely, in that unfortunate affair at Meung..."

"The letter was lost," continued His Eminence. "Yes, I know that. But Monsieur de Tréville is a skilled physiognomist who knows men at first sight, and he placed you in the company of his brother-in-law, Monsieur des Essarts, letting you hope that one day or another you would enter the musketeers."

"Monseigneur is perfectly informed," said d'Artagnan.

"Since then, many things have happened to you. You took a walk behind the Chartreux one day when it would have been better to be elsewhere; then you took a trip with your friends to the Forges waters; they stopped along the way, but you continued your journey. That's simple enough: you had business in England."

"Monseigneur," said d'Artagnan, quite taken aback, "I was going..."

"Hunting at Windsor or elsewhere—that concerns no one. I know that, because it is my business to know everything. On your return, you were received by an august personage, and I see with pleasure that you have preserved the souvenir she gave you."

D'Artagnan put his hand to the diamond he had received from the queen and quickly turned the setting inward; but it was too late.

"The day after that, you received a visit from Cavois," continued the cardinal. "He was to ask you to come to the palace; you did not return that visit, and you were wrong."

"Monseigneur, I feared I had incurred Your Eminence's displeasure."

"And why, monsieur? For having followed your superiors' orders with more intelligence and courage than another would have done—incur my displeasure when you deserved praise? It is those who do not obey that I punish, not those who, like you, obey... too well... And the proof: recall the date of the day I had you told to come see me, and search your memory for what happened that same evening."

That same evening had been the abduction of Madame Bonacieux. D'Artagnan shuddered, and he remembered that half an hour earlier the poor woman had passed near him, still carried off, no doubt, by the same power that had made her disappear.

"Finally," continued the cardinal, "as I had heard nothing of you for some time, I wanted to know what you were doing. Moreover, you owe me some gratitude: you have noticed yourself how much you have been spared in all circumstances."

D'Artagnan bowed respectfully.

"That," continued the cardinal, "came not only from a feeling of natural fairness, but also from a plan I had traced out concerning you."

D'Artagnan was more and more astonished.

"I intended to explain this plan to you on the day you received my first invitation; but you did not come. Fortunately, nothing is lost by this delay, and today you shall hear it. Sit there, before me, Monsieur d'Artagnan; you are a good enough gentleman not to listen standing."

And the cardinal pointed to a chair for the young man, who was so astonished at what was happening that, in order to obey, he waited for a second sign from his interlocutor.

"You are brave, Monsieur d'Artagnan," continued His Eminence. "You are prudent, which is even better. I like men of head and heart, myself. Do not be alarmed," he said with a smile, "by men of heart, I mean men of courage. But young as you are and barely entering the world, you have powerful enemies: if you do not take care, they will undo you!"

"Alas! Monseigneur," replied the young man, "they will do it easily enough, no doubt; for they are strong and well supported, while I am alone!"

"Yes, that is true; but alone as you are, you have already done much, and you will do even more, I do not doubt. However, you need, I believe, to be guided in the adventurous career you have undertaken; for if I am not mistaken, you came to Paris with the ambitious idea of making your fortune."

"I am at the age of foolish hopes, Monseigneur," said d'Artagnan.

"Only fools have foolish hopes, monsieur, and you are a man of intelligence. Let us see: what would you say to a lieutenancy in my guards, and a company after the campaign?"

"Ah! Monseigneur!"

"You accept, do you not?"

"Monseigneur," replied d'Artagnan with an embarrassed air.

"What, you refuse?" cried the cardinal with astonishment.

"I am in His Majesty's guards, Monseigneur, and I have no reason to be dissatisfied."

"But it seems to me," said His Eminence, "that my guards are also His Majesty's guards, and that as long as one serves in a French corps, one serves the king."

"Monseigneur, Your Eminence has misunderstood my words."

"You want a pretext, do you not? I understand. Well, that pretext you have. Advancement, the campaign that is opening, the opportunity I offer you—that is for the world; for yourself, the need for sure protection; for it is good that you should know, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that I have received serious complaints against you. You do not devote your days and nights exclusively to the king's service."

D'Artagnan blushed.

"Moreover," continued the cardinal, placing his hand on a bundle of papers, "I have here a whole dossier concerning you; but before reading it, I wanted to talk with you. I know you to be a man of resolution, and your services, well directed, instead of leading you to harm, could bring you much. Come, reflect, and decide."

"Your goodness overwhelms me, Monseigneur," replied d'Artagnan, "and I recognize in Your Eminence a greatness of soul that makes me as small as a worm; but since Monseigneur permits me to speak frankly..."

D'Artagnan stopped.

"Yes, speak."

"Well, I will tell Your Eminence that all my friends are in the musketeers and the king's guards, and that my enemies, by an inconceivable fatality, are in Your Eminence's service. I would therefore be ill-received here and ill-regarded there if I accepted what Monseigneur offers me."

"Would you already have that proud idea that I am not offering you what you are worth, monsieur?" said the cardinal with a smile of disdain.

"Monseigneur, Your Eminence is a hundred times too kind to me, and on the contrary, I think I have not yet done enough to be worthy of your kindness. The siege of La Rochelle is about to open, Monseigneur; I shall serve under Your Eminence's eyes, and if I have the good fortune to conduct myself at that siege in such a way as to deserve to attract your attention, well, afterward I shall have at least some brilliant deed behind me to justify the protection with which you are willing to honor me. Everything must be done in its time, Monseigneur; perhaps later I shall have the right to give myself; at this hour I would appear to be selling myself."

"That is to say, you refuse to serve me, monsieur," said the cardinal with a tone of vexation in which, however, a sort of esteem was perceptible. "Remain free then, and keep your hatreds and your sympathies."

"Monseigneur..."

"Well, well," said the cardinal, "I bear you no ill will; but you understand, one has enough to do to defend one's friends and reward them; one owes nothing to one's enemies. Nevertheless, I will give you some advice: be on your guard, Monsieur d'Artagnan, for from the moment I withdraw my hand from over you, I would not buy your life for a penny."

"I shall try, Monseigneur," replied the Gascon with noble assurance.

"Think later, and at a certain moment, if misfortune befalls you," said Richelieu meaningfully, "that it was I who came to seek you out, and that I did what I could to prevent that misfortune from happening to you."

"Whatever happens," said d'Artagnan, placing his hand on his chest and bowing, "I shall have eternal gratitude to Your Eminence for what you do for me at this moment."

"Well then! As you have said, Monsieur d'Artagnan, we shall see each other again after the campaign; I shall follow you with my eyes; for I will be there," said the cardinal, pointing with his finger to a magnificent suit of armor that he was to don, "and upon our return, well, we shall settle accounts!"

"Ah! Monseigneur," cried d'Artagnan, "spare me the weight of your displeasure; remain neutral, Monseigneur, if you find that I act as a man of honor."

"Young man," said Richelieu, "if I can say to you once more what I have said to you today, I promise you I will say it."

This last word of Richelieu expressed a terrible doubt; it dismayed d'Artagnan more than a threat would have done, for it was a warning. The cardinal was therefore seeking to preserve him from some misfortune that threatened him. He opened his mouth to reply, but with a haughty gesture the cardinal dismissed him.

D'Artagnan went out; but at the door his heart nearly failed him, and he almost went back. However, the grave and severe face of Athos appeared to him: if he made the pact with the cardinal that the latter proposed, Athos would no longer give him his hand; Athos would disown him.

It was this fear that held him back, so powerful is the influence of a truly great character on all that surrounds it.

D'Artagnan went down by the same staircase he had entered and found before the door Athos and the four musketeers who were awaiting his return and were beginning to grow anxious. With a word d'Artagnan reassured them, and Planchet ran to inform the other posts that it was useless to keep guard any longer, since his master had come out safe and sound from the Palais-Cardinal.

Once back at Athos's, Aramis and Porthos inquired about the reasons for this strange rendezvous; but d'Artagnan contented himself with telling them that Monsieur de Richelieu had sent for him to offer him a place in his guards with the rank of lieutenant, and that he had refused.

"And you were right," cried Porthos and Aramis with one voice.

Athos fell into a deep reverie and answered nothing. But when he was alone with d'Artagnan:

"You did what you had to do, d'Artagnan," said Athos, "but perhaps you were wrong."

D'Artagnan sighed; for this voice answered a secret voice in his soul, which told him that great misfortunes awaited him.

The next day was spent in preparations for departure; d'Artagnan went to bid farewell to Monsieur de Tréville. At that time it was still believed that the separation of the guards and the musketeers would be temporary, the king holding his parliament that very day and leaving the next. Monsieur de Tréville therefore contented himself with asking d'Artagnan if he needed anything, but d'Artagnan proudly replied that he had all he required.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”