Part 5

"As for Porthos, that’s even funnier; but I am no less a miserable fool. Does one throw oneself at people like that without warning? No! And does one look under their cloak to see what isn’t there? He would certainly have forgiven me; he would have forgiven me if I hadn’t gone and spoken to him about that cursed shoulder belt, in veiled terms, it’s true; yes, nicely veiled! Ah! accursed Gascon that I am, I could crack jokes in a frying pan. Come, d’Artagnan, my friend," he continued, speaking to himself with all the graciousness he thought he owed himself, "if you get out of this, which isn’t likely, you must be perfectly polite in the future. Henceforth you must be admired, cited as a model. Being considerate and polite is not being cowardly. Look at Aramis: Aramis is sweetness and grace personified. Well, has anyone ever dared say Aramis was a coward? No, certainly not, and from now on I want to model myself on him in every way. Ah! there he is, just in time."

D’Artagnan, while walking and soliloquizing, had come within a few steps of the Hôtel d’Aiguillon, and before that hotel he had caught sight of Aramis chatting gaily with three gentlemen of the king’s guards. For his part, Aramis saw d’Artagnan; but as he had not forgotten that it was before this young man that Monsieur de Tréville had so strongly lost his temper that morning, and that a witness of the reproaches the musketeers had received was in no way agreeable to him, he pretended not to see him. D’Artagnan, on the contrary, entirely absorbed in his plans of conciliation and courtesy, approached the four young men, making them a deep bow accompanied by the most gracious smile. Aramis inclined his head slightly, but did not smile. All four, moreover, instantly broke off their conversation.

D’Artagnan was not foolish enough not to perceive that he was intruding; but he was not yet sufficiently versed in the ways of high society to extricate himself gracefully from a false situation such as is generally that of a man who has come to mingle with people he scarcely knows and in a conversation that is none of his business. He was therefore searching within himself for a way to retreat as awkwardly as possible, when he noticed that Aramis had dropped his handkerchief and, by mistake no doubt, had stepped on it; the moment seemed to him to have arrived to make amends for his rudeness: he stooped down, and with the most gracious air he could muster, he pulled the handkerchief from under the musketeer’s foot, despite the latter’s efforts to hold it back, and said to him as he handed it back:

"I believe, sir, this is a handkerchief you would be sorry to lose."

The handkerchief was indeed richly embroidered and bore a crown and coat of arms in one of its corners. Aramis blushed excessively and snatched rather than took the handkerchief from the Gascon’s hands.

"Ah! Ah!" cried one of the guards, "will you still say, discreet Aramis, that you are on bad terms with Madame de Bois-Tracy, when that gracious lady has the kindness to lend you her handkerchiefs?"

Aramis shot d’Artagnan one of those looks that make a man understand that he has just acquired a mortal enemy; then, resuming his suave expression:

"You are mistaken, gentlemen," he said, "this handkerchief is not mine, and I do not know why this gentleman has taken it into his head to hand it to me rather than to one of you; and the proof of what I say is that here is my own in my pocket."

With these words, he drew his own handkerchief, a very elegant one too, of fine batiste, although batiste was expensive in those days, but a handkerchief without embroidery, without arms, and adorned only with a single initial, that of its owner.

This time, d’Artagnan did not utter a word; he had recognized his blunder; but Aramis’s friends were not convinced by his denials, and one of them, addressing the young musketeer with affected seriousness:

"If that were the case," he said, "as you claim, my dear Aramis, I would be forced to ask you for it back; for, as you know, Bois-Tracy is a close friend of mine, and I do not want anyone to make a trophy of his wife’s belongings."

"You ask for it badly," replied Aramis, "and while acknowledging the justice of your claim in substance, I would refuse because of the form."

"The fact is," d’Artagnan ventured timidly, "I did not see the handkerchief come out of Monsieur Aramis’s pocket. He had his foot on it, that’s all, and I thought that since he had his foot on it, the handkerchief was his."

"And you were mistaken, my dear sir," replied Aramis coldly, unmoved by the apology.

Then, turning to the guard who had declared himself Bois-Tracy’s friend:

"Besides," he continued, "I reflect, my dear intimate of Bois-Tracy, that I am no less tender a friend of his than you can be yourself; so that, strictly speaking, this handkerchief could just as well have come from your pocket as from mine."

"No, upon my honor!" cried the king’s guard.

"You are going to swear upon your honor and I upon my word, and then there will evidently be one of us lying. Look, let’s do better, Montaran, let’s each take half."

"Of the handkerchief?"

"Yes."

"Perfectly," cried the other two guards, "the judgment of King Solomon. Decidedly, Aramis, you are full of wisdom."

The young men burst out laughing, and as one might imagine, the matter went no further. A moment later, the conversation ended, and the three guards and the musketeer, after cordially shaking hands, departed, the three guards on their side and Aramis on his.

"Now is the moment to make my peace with that gallant man," said d’Artagnan to himself, who had stood a little apart during the latter part of this conversation. And, with this good intention, drawing nearer to Aramis, who was walking away without paying him any further attention:

"Sir," he said, "you will excuse me, I hope."

"Ah! sir," interrupted Aramis, "allow me to observe that you did not act in this matter as a gentleman should."

"What, sir!" cried d’Artagnan, "you suppose—"

"I suppose, sir, that you are not a fool, and that you know very well, although you come from Gascony, that one does not step on pocket handkerchiefs for no reason. The devil! Paris is not paved with batiste."

"Sir, you are wrong to seek to humiliate me," said d’Artagnan, in whom the quarrelsome nature began to speak louder than his peaceful resolutions. "I am from Gascony, it is true, and since you know it, I need not tell you that Gascons are not very patient; so that when they have apologized once, even for a folly, they are convinced they have already done half more than they ought."

"Sir, what I say to you," replied Aramis, "is not meant to pick a quarrel with you. Thank God! I am not a swashbuckler, and being only a provisional musketeer, I only fight when forced to, and always with great reluctance; but this time the matter is serious, for here is a lady compromised by you."

"By us, that is to say," cried d’Artagnan.

"Why were you clumsy enough to return the handkerchief to me?"

"Why were you clumsy enough to drop it?"

"I said and I repeat, sir, that this handkerchief did not come out of my pocket."

"Well, you have lied twice, sir, for I saw it come out of it myself!"

"Ah! you take that tone, Monsieur the Gascon! very well, I will teach you manners."

"And I will send you back to your mass, Monsieur the Abbé! Draw, if you please, and at once."

"Not at all, if you please, my fine friend; no, not here, at least. Do you not see that we are opposite the Hôtel d’Aiguillon, which is full of the cardinal’s creatures? Who tells me that His Eminence did not charge you to procure my head for him? Now I am ridiculously attached to my head, for it seems to sit quite correctly on my shoulders. I want to kill you, rest assured, but kill you quietly, in a closed and covered place, where you cannot boast of your death to anyone."

"I am willing, but do not trust me, and take your handkerchief, whether it belongs to you or not; perhaps you will have occasion to use it."

"Is the gentleman a Gascon?" asked Aramis.

"Yes. Does the gentleman not keep a rendezvous out of prudence?"

"Prudence, sir, is a virtue quite useless to musketeers, I know, but indispensable to churchmen, and as I am only a provisional musketeer, I intend to remain prudent. At two o’clock, I shall have the honor to await you at the Hôtel de Monsieur de Tréville. There I will show you the good places."

The two young men bowed, then Aramis went away up the street that rose toward the Luxembourg, while d’Artagnan, seeing that the hour was advancing, took the road to the Carmes-Deschaux, saying to himself:

"Decidedly, I cannot get over it; but at least, if I am killed, I shall be killed by a musketeer."

CHAPTER V. THE KING’S MUSKETEERS AND THE CARDINAL’S GUARDS

D’Artagnan knew no one in Paris. He therefore went to the rendezvous with Athos without bringing a second, resolved to content himself with those his adversary might choose. Besides, his intention was firm to make the brave musketeer all suitable apologies, but without weakness, fearing that from this duel might result what always results from trouble in affairs of this kind, when a young and vigorous man fights against a wounded and weakened adversary: if defeated, he doubles the triumph of his antagonist; if victorious, he is accused of foul play and easy audacity.

Moreover, either we have poorly described the character of our adventurer, or our reader must already have noticed that d’Artagnan was no ordinary man. So, while repeating to himself that his death was inevitable, he did not resign himself to dying meekly, as another less courageous and more moderate than he would have done in his place. He reflected on the different characters of those with whom he was about to fight, and began to see his situation more clearly. He hoped, thanks to the loyal apologies he had in store, to make a friend of Athos, whose grand seigneur air and austere mien pleased him greatly. He flattered himself that he would frighten Porthos with the adventure of the shoulder belt, which he could, if he were not killed on the spot, tell to everyone, a story which, adroitly worked up for effect, would cover Porthos with ridicule; finally, as for the sly Aramis, he was not very much afraid of him, and supposing he got to him, he undertook to dispatch him handsomely, or at least by striking him in the face, as Caesar had recommended be done to Pompey’s soldiers, to damage forever that beauty of which he was so proud.

Then, in d’Artagnan there was that unshakeable foundation of resolution that his father’s advice had deposited in his heart, advice whose substance was: "Suffer nothing from anyone except the king, the cardinal, and Monsieur de Tréville." He therefore flew rather than walked toward the convent of the Discalced Carmelites, or rather Deschaux, as it was called in those days, a sort of windowless building bordered by barren meadows, an annex of the Pré-aux-Clercs, which ordinarily served for meetings of people who had no time to lose.

When d’Artagnan came in sight of the small vacant lot that stretched at the foot of this monastery, Athos had been waiting for only five minutes, and noon was striking. He was therefore as punctual as the Samaritan, and the most rigorous casuist with regard to duels had nothing to say.

Athos, who still suffered cruelly from his wound, although it had been freshly dressed by Monsieur de Tréville’s surgeon, had seated himself on a milestone and was waiting for his adversary with that peaceful demeanor and dignified air that never abandoned him. At the sight of d’Artagnan, he rose and politely took a few steps toward him. The latter, for his part, approached his adversary only with his hat in his hand and its feather trailing to the ground.

"Sir," said Athos, "I have sent word to two of my friends who will serve as my seconds, but these two friends have not yet arrived. I am surprised they are late; it is not their habit."

"I have no seconds myself, sir," said d’Artagnan, "for having only arrived yesterday in Paris, I as yet know no one here except Monsieur de Tréville, to whom I was recommended by my father, who has the honor of being somewhat of his friend."

Athos reflected for a moment.

"You know only Monsieur de Tréville?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I know only him."

"Well, but—" continued Athos, speaking half to himself, half to d’Artagnan, "well, but if I kill you, I will look like a child-eater, I will!"

"Not too much so, sir," replied d’Artagnan, with a bow that was not lacking in dignity; "not too much so, since you do me the honor of drawing your sword against me with a wound from which you must be greatly suffering."

"Greatly suffering, upon my word, and you have hurt me devilishly, I must say; but I will take the left hand, that is my habit in such circumstances. Do not think, therefore, that I am doing you a favor; I can fence properly with either hand; and there will even be a disadvantage for you: a left-hander is very awkward for people who are not warned. I regret not having informed you of this circumstance earlier."

"You are truly, sir," said d’Artagnan, bowing again, "of a courtesy for which I am most grateful."

"You make me confused," replied Athos with his gentlemanly air; "let us talk of something else, I beg you, unless it is disagreeable to you. Ah! sangbleu! how you have hurt me! my shoulder burns."

"If you would allow—" said d’Artagnan timidly.

"What, sir?"

"I have a miraculous balm for wounds, a balm that comes from my mother, and which I have tested on myself."

"Well?"

"Well, I am sure that in less than three days this balm would cure you, and after three days, when you are cured—well, sir, it would always be a great honor for me to be your man."

D’Artagnan said these words with a simplicity that did honor to his courtesy, without in any way impairing his courage.

"Pardieu, sir," said Athos, "here is a proposition that pleases me, not that I accept it, but it smacks of a gentleman from a league away. That is how those paladins of Charlemagne’s time spoke and acted, upon whom every cavalier ought to model himself. Unfortunately, we are no longer in the time of the great emperor. We are in the time of Monsieur the Cardinal, and within three days it would be known, however well the secret were kept, it would be known, I say, that we are to fight, and our combat would be prevented. Ah, well! these loiterers, will they not come then?"

"If you are in a hurry, sir," said d’Artagnan to Athos, with the same simplicity with which a moment before he had proposed postponing the duel for three days, "if you are in a hurry and it pleases you to dispatch me at once, do not stand on ceremony, I beg you."

"Here is another word that pleases me," said Athos, making a gracious nod to d’Artagnan, "it is not from a brainless man, and it is certainly from a man of heart. Sir, I like men of your stamp, and I see that if we do not kill each other, I shall later have true pleasure in your conversation. Let us wait for these gentlemen, I beg you; I have plenty of time, and it will be more correct. Ah! here comes one, I believe."

Indeed, at the end of the Rue de Vaugirard, the gigantic Porthos began to appear.

"What!" cried d’Artagnan, "your first witness is Monsieur Porthos?"

"Yes, does that annoy you?"

"No, not at all."

"And here is the second."

D’Artagnan turned toward the direction indicated by Athos, and recognized Aramis.

"What!" he cried, with an accent more astonished than the first time, "your second witness is Monsieur Aramis?"

"Doubtless, do you not know that we are never seen without each other, and that we are called among the musketeers and the guards, at court and in the city, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, or the three inseparables? After that, since you come from Dax or Pau—"

"From Tarbes," said d’Artagnan.

"—it is permissible for you to be ignorant of this detail," said Athos.

"Faith," said d’Artagnan, "you are well named, gentlemen, and my adventure, if it makes any noise, will at least prove that your union is not founded on contrasts."

Meanwhile, Porthos had drawn near, had saluted Athos with his hand; then, turning toward d’Artagnan, he remained quite astonished.

Let us say, in passing, that he had changed his shoulder belt and taken off his cloak.

"Ah! ah!" he said, "what is this?"

"It is with this gentleman that I am fighting," said Athos, pointing to d’Artagnan with his hand and saluting him with the same gesture.

"It is with him that I am fighting also," said Porthos.

"But at one o’clock only," replied d’Artagnan.

"And I also, it is with this gentleman that I am fighting," said Aramis, arriving in his turn on the ground.

"But at two o’clock only," said d’Artagnan with the same calm.

"But on what account are you fighting, you, Athos?" asked Aramis.

"Faith, I hardly know; he hurt my shoulder; and you, Porthos?"

"Faith, I fight because I fight," replied Porthos, blushing.

Athos, who missed nothing, saw a faint smile pass over the Gascon’s lips.

"We had a discussion about dress," said the young man.

"And you, Aramis?" asked Athos.

"I am fighting on a matter of theology," replied Aramis, while making a sign to d’Artagnan that he begged him to keep the cause of his duel secret.

Athos saw a second smile pass over d’Artagnan’s lips.

"Really," said Athos.

"Yes, a point of Saint Augustine on which we are not agreed," said the Gascon.

"Decidedly, he is a witty man," murmured Athos.

"And now that you are all assembled, gentlemen," said d’Artagnan, "allow me to make you my apologies."

At the word _apologies_, a cloud passed over Athos’s brow, a haughty smile glided over Porthos’s lips, and a negative sign was Aramis’s reply.

"You do not understand me, gentlemen," said d’Artagnan, raising his head, on which at that moment played a ray of sunlight that gilded its fine and bold lines: "I ask your apology in case I cannot pay my debt to all three of you, for Monsieur Athos has the right to kill me first, which greatly takes away the value of your claim, Monsieur Porthos, and makes yours almost null, Monsieur Aramis. And now, gentlemen, I repeat, forgive me, but for that only, and on guard!"

At these words, with the most cavalier gesture that could be seen, d’Artagnan drew his sword.

The blood had mounted to d’Artagnan’s head, and at that moment he would have drawn his sword against all the musketeers in the kingdom, as he had just done against Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

It was a quarter past twelve. The sun was at its zenith and the spot chosen for the scene of the duel was exposed to its full ardor.

"It is very hot," said Athos, drawing his sword in turn, "and yet I cannot take off my doublet; for just now I felt my wound bleeding, and I would be afraid of inconveniencing the gentleman by showing him blood that I had not drawn myself."

"That is true, sir," said d’Artagnan, "and whether drawn by another or by me, I assure you that I shall always see with great regret the blood of so brave a gentleman; I will therefore fight in my doublet as you do."

"Come, come," said Porthos, "enough compliments like that, and remember that we are waiting our turn."

"Speak for yourself alone, Porthos, when you have such incongruities to say," interrupted Aramis. "As for me, I find the things these gentlemen say very well said and altogether worthy of two gentlemen."

"When you wish, sir," said Athos, putting himself on guard.

"I awaited your orders," said d’Artagnan, crossing swords.

But the two rapiers had hardly clashed in touching each other when a squad of His Eminence’s guards, commanded by Monsieur de Jussac, appeared at the corner of the convent.

"The cardinal’s guards!" cried Porthos and Aramis at once. "Sheathe your swords, gentlemen! Sheathe your swords!"

But it was too late. The two combatants had been seen in a pose that left no doubt as to their intentions.

"Hallo!" cried Jussac, advancing toward them and signaling to his men to do the same, "hallo! musketeers, so you are fighting here? And the edicts, what about them?"

"You are very generous, gentlemen of the guards," said Athos, full of rancor, for Jussac was one of the aggressors of the day before yesterday. "If we saw you fighting, I assure you, as for me, we would take good care not to prevent you. So let us go on, and you will have some pleasure without any trouble."

"Gentlemen," said Jussac, "it is with great regret that I declare the thing impossible. Our duty before all. So sheathe, if you please, and follow us."

"Sir," said Aramis, parodying Jussac, "it would be with great pleasure that we would obey your gracious invitation, if it depended on us; but unfortunately the thing is impossible: Monsieur de Tréville has forbidden it. So go your way; that is the best thing you can do."

This raillery exasperated Jussac.

"We will charge you then," he said, "if you disobey."

"There are five of them," said Athos in a low voice, "and we are only three; we shall be beaten again, and we must die here, for I declare, I will not appear defeated before the captain."

Then Porthos and Aramis instantly drew together, while Jussac lined up his soldiers.

This single moment sufficed for d’Artagnan to make his decision: this was one of those events that decide a man’s life; it was a choice to be made between the king and the cardinal; this choice made, he would persevere in it. To fight, that is to disobey the law, to risk his head, to make himself at one blow the enemy of a minister more powerful than the king himself: that is what the young man foresaw, and, let us say it to his credit, he did not hesitate for a second. Turning therefore to Athos and his friends:

"Gentlemen," he said, "I will take back, if you please, something from your words. You said you were only three, but it seems to me that we are four."

"But you are not one of us," said Porthos.

"That is true," replied d’Artagnan; "I do not have the uniform, but I have the soul. My heart is that of a musketeer, I feel it well, sir, and that carries me away."

“Stories of the world, in your language.”