Part 6

## CHAPTER VI.

### PART 6

"Stand aside, young man!" cried Jussac, who had no doubt guessed d'Artagnan's intention from his gestures and the expression on his face. "You may withdraw; we consent. Save your skin; go quickly."

D'Artagnan did not move.

"You are decidedly a fine fellow," said Athos, pressing the young man's hand.

"Come, come! Let us decide," resumed Jussac.

"Let us see," said Porthos and Aramis, "let us do something."

"This gentleman is full of generosity," said Athos.

But all three were thinking of d'Artagnan's youth and fearing his inexperience.

"We shall be only three, one of them wounded, plus a child," resumed Athos, "and yet it will be said that we were four men."

"Yes, but to retreat!" said Porthos.

"That is difficult," replied Athos.

D'Artagnan understood their irresolution.

"Gentlemen, try me at any rate," he said, "and I swear to you on my honor that I will not leave here if we are beaten."

"What is your name, my brave fellow?" said Athos.

"D'Artagnan, sir."

"Well, Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan, forward!" cried Athos.

"Well, now, gentlemen, will you decide to make up your minds?" cried Jussac for the third time.

"It is done, gentlemen," said Athos.

"And what decision have you taken?" asked Jussac.

"We are about to have the honor of charging you," replied Aramis, raising his hat with one hand and drawing his sword with the other.

"Ah! You resist!" exclaimed Jussac.

"Sangdieu! Does that surprise you?"

And the nine combatants rushed upon each other with a fury that did not exclude a certain method.

Athos took on a certain Cahusac, a favorite of the Cardinal; Porthos had Biscarat, and Aramis found himself face to face with two adversaries.

As for d'Artagnan, he found himself pitted against Jussac himself.

The young Gascon's heart was beating fit to burst his chest, not from fear, thank God! he had not a shadow of it, but from emulation; he fought like a furious tiger, turning ten times around his adversary, changing his guard and his ground twenty times. Jussac was, as they said then, fond of the blade, and had had much practice; nevertheless, he had the greatest difficulty in defending himself against an adversary who, agile and bounding, constantly deviated from the accepted rules, attacking from all sides at once, and all the while parrying like a man who had the greatest respect for his own skin.

At last this struggle began to make Jussac lose patience. Furious at being held in check by one whom he had regarded as a child, he grew heated and began to make mistakes. D'Artagnan, who, lacking practice, had a profound theory, redoubled his agility. Jussac, wanting to finish it, aimed a terrible blow at his adversary by lunging deeply; but the other parried prime, and while Jussac was recovering, gliding like a serpent under his blade, he ran his sword through his body. Jussac fell like a log.

D'Artagnan then cast an anxious and rapid glance over the field of battle.

Aramis had already killed one of his adversaries; but the other was pressing him hard. However, Aramis was in good shape and could still defend himself.

Biscarat and Porthos had just exchanged thrusts: Porthos had received a sword-cut through the arm, and Biscarat through the thigh. But as neither wound was serious, they only fought more fiercely.

Athos, wounded again by Cahusac, was growing visibly pale, but he did not retreat an inch; he had only changed his sword to his other hand and was fighting with his left.

D'Artagnan, according to the dueling laws of the time, could go to the aid of someone; while he was looking around for which of his companions needed his help, he caught a glance from Athos. That glance was of sublime eloquence. Athos would have died rather than call for help; but he could look, and by his look ask for support. D'Artagnan understood him, made a terrible bound, and fell upon Cahusac's flank, crying:

"To me, Monsieur Guard, I will kill you!"

Cahusac turned; it was time. Athos, whom only his extreme courage sustained, fell upon one knee.

"Sangdieu!" he cried to d'Artagnan, "do not kill him, young man, I beg you; I have an old affair to settle with him when I am cured and well. Only disarm him, tie his sword. That's it. Good! Very good!"

This exclamation was drawn from Athos by Cahusac's sword, which flew twenty paces from him. D'Artagnan and Cahusac rushed together, one to seize it, the other to regain it; but d'Artagnan, being nimbler, reached it first and put his foot upon it.

Cahusac ran to the guard whom Aramis had killed, seized his rapier, and wanted to return to d'Artagnan; but on his way he met Athos, who, during this momentary pause procured for him by d'Artagnan, had recovered his breath, and who, for fear that d'Artagnan would kill his enemy, wished to resume the combat.

D'Artagnan understood that to prevent him would be to displease Athos. Indeed, a few seconds later, Cahusac fell with his throat pierced by a sword-thrust.

At the same moment, Aramis pressed his sword against the chest of his overthrown adversary and forced him to ask for mercy.

Porthos and Biscarat remained. Porthos was making a thousand bravadoes, asking Biscarat what time it could be, and giving him his compliments on the company his brother had just obtained in the regiment of Navarre; but while jesting, he gained nothing. Biscarat was one of those men of iron who fall only dead.

However, it was necessary to finish. The watch might arrive and take all the combatants, wounded or not, royalists or cardinalists. Athos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan surrounded Biscarat and summoned him to surrender. Although alone against all, and with a sword-wound through his thigh, Biscarat wished to hold out; but Jussac, who had raised himself on his elbow, cried out to him to surrender. Biscarat was a Gascon like d'Artagnan; he pretended not to hear and contented himself with laughing, and between two parades, finding time to point out a spot on the ground with the tip of his sword:

"Here," said he, parodying a verse from the Bible, "here shall Biscarat die, alone of those who are with him."

"But they are four against you; finish it, I command you."

"Ah! If you command it, that is another matter," said Biscarat, "as you are my brigadier, I must obey."

And, making a spring backward, he broke his sword across his knee so as not to surrender it, threw the pieces over the convent wall, and folded his arms, whistling a cardinalist tune.

Bravery is always respected, even in an enemy. The musketeers saluted Biscarat with their swords and returned them to their scabbards. D'Artagnan did the same, then, aided by Biscarat, the only one who remained standing, he carried Jussac, Cahusac, and that one of Aramis's adversaries who was only wounded under the porch of the convent. The fourth, as we have said, was dead. Then they rang the bell, and, carrying off four swords out of five, they wended their way, drunk with joy, toward M. de Tréville's hotel. They were seen arm in arm, taking up the whole width of the street, and accosting every musketeer they met, so that at last it became a triumphal march. D'Artagnan's heart swam in ecstasy; he walked between Athos and Porthos, clasping them tenderly.

"If I am not yet a musketeer," he said to his new friends as he crossed the gate of M. de Tréville's hotel, "at least I am received as an apprentice, am I not?"

### CHAPTER VI. ### HIS MAJESTY KING LOUIS XIII

The affair made a great noise. M. de Tréville scolded his musketeers loudly in public, and congratulated them in private; but as there was no time to lose in forestalling the king, M. de Tréville hastened to the Louvre. It was already too late; the king was closeted with the Cardinal, and M. de Tréville was told that the king was busy and could not receive him at that moment. In the evening, M. de Tréville came to the king's gaming-table. The king was winning, and as His Majesty was very avaricious, he was in an excellent humor; so, as soon as the king perceived Tréville from afar:

"Come here, Monsieur Captain," said he, "come and let me scold you; do you know that His Eminence came to complain to me about your musketeers, and with such emotion that this evening His Eminence is ill from it? Why, these are very devils, people to be hanged, your musketeers!"

"No, Sire," replied Tréville, who saw at a glance how matters were going; "no, quite the contrary; they are good creatures, gentle as lambs, and have but one desire, I would warrant it: that their swords may never leave their scabbards except in the service of Your Majesty. But what would you have? The guards of Monsieur the Cardinal are constantly picking quarrels with them, and for the honor of the corps itself, the poor young fellows are obliged to defend themselves."

"Listen to M. de Tréville!" said the king; "listen to him! Would one not say he was speaking of a religious community! In truth, my dear Captain, I have a mind to take away your commission and give it to Mademoiselle de Chémerault, to whom I promised an abbey. But do not think I will take your word for it thus easily. I am called Louis the Just, Monsieur de Tréville, and presently, presently we shall see."

"Ah! it is because I trust in that justice, Sire, that I shall wait patiently and tranquilly for Your Majesty's good pleasure."

"Wait then, monsieur, wait then," said the king; "I shall not keep you waiting long."

In fact, the luck was turning, and as the king began to lose what he had gained, he was not sorry to find a pretext for making—allow us this gambler's expression, of which we confess we do not know the origin—for making Charlemagne. The king therefore rose after a moment, and putting into his pocket the money that lay before him, the greater part of which came from his winnings:

"La Vieuville," he said, "take my place; I must speak to M. de Tréville on important business. Ah!... I had eighty louis before me; put the same sum, so that those who have lost may have no reason to complain. Justice before everything."

Then, turning toward M. de Tréville and walking with him toward the embrasure of a window:

"Well, monsieur," he continued, "you say that it was the guards of His Most Eminent Eminence who picked a quarrel with your musketeers?"

"Yes, Sire, as always."

"And how did the thing happen? Come, for you know, my dear Captain, a judge must hear both sides."

"Oh, my God! In the simplest and most natural manner. Three of my best soldiers, whose names Your Majesty knows by repute and whose devotion you have more than once appreciated, and who have, I can affirm to the king, his service very much at heart—three of my best soldiers, I say, MM. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, had made a pleasure party with a young cadet from Gascony, whom I had recommended to them that very morning. The party was to take place at Saint-Germain, I believe, and they had appointed to meet at the Carmes-Deschaux, when they were disturbed by M. de Jussac and MM. Cahusac, Biscarat, and two other guards, who certainly did not come there in such numerous company without some evil intention against the edicts."

"Ah! ah! You remind me," said the king; "no doubt they came to fight themselves."

"I do not accuse them, Sire, but I leave Your Majesty to judge what five armed men can possibly be going to do in a spot as deserted as the environs of the Carmelite convent."

"Yes, you are right, Tréville, you are right."

"Then, when they saw my musketeers, they changed their minds and forgot their private hatred for the hatred of the corps; for Your Majesty is not ignorant that the musketeers, who belong to the king and to the king only, are the natural enemies of the guards, who belong to Monsieur the Cardinal."

"Yes, Tréville, yes," said the king, melancholically, "and it is very sad, believe me, to see thus two parties in France, two heads to the royalty; but all that will end, Tréville, all that will end. So you say that the guards picked a quarrel with the musketeers?"

"I say that it is probable that things happened so, but I do not swear to it, Sire. You know how difficult it is to get at the truth, and unless one is endowed with that admirable instinct which has caused Louis XIII to be called the Just..."

"And you are right, Tréville; but they were not alone, your musketeers; there was a child with them?"

"Yes, Sire, and a wounded man, so that three of the king's musketeers, one of them wounded, and a child, not only held their own against five of the most terrible of Monsieur the Cardinal's guards, but also laid four of them on the ground."

"But that is a victory!" exclaimed the king, all radiant; "a complete victory!"

"Yes, Sire, as complete as that of the Pont de Cé."

"Four men, one wounded, and a child, you say?"

"A young man scarcely; who moreover conducted himself so perfectly on that occasion that I will take the liberty of recommending him to Your Majesty."

"What is his name?"

"D'Artagnan, Sire. He is the son of one of my oldest friends; the son of a man who made war as a partisan with the king your father, of glorious memory."

"And you say that this young man behaved well? Tell me about it, Tréville; you know I love tales of war and fighting."

And King Louis XIII proudly twirled his mustache, placing his hand on his hip.

"Sire," resumed Tréville, "as I have told you, M. d'Artagnan is almost a child; and as he has not the honor of being a musketeer, he was in citizen's clothes. The guards of Monsieur the Cardinal, recognizing his extreme youth and, moreover, that he was a stranger to the corps, invited him therefore to retire before they attacked."

"Then you see well, Tréville," interrupted the king, "that it was they who attacked."

"That is true, Sire; thus, no more doubt; they summoned him therefore to retire; but he answered that he was a musketeer at heart and wholly devoted to Your Majesty, and that therefore he would remain with these gentlemen the musketeers."

"Brave young man!" murmured the king.

"In fact, he remained with them; and Your Majesty has there so firm a champion that it was he who gave Jussac that terrible thrust which so angers Monsieur the Cardinal."

"It was he who wounded Jussac?" exclaimed the king; "he, a child! This, Tréville, is impossible."

"It is as I have the honor of telling Your Majesty."

"Jussac, one of the first blades in the kingdom!"

"Well, Sire! he has found his master."

"I wish to see this young man, Tréville, I wish to see him, and if anything can be done, well, we will attend to it."

"When will Your Majesty deign to receive him?"

"Tomorrow at noon, Tréville."

"Shall I bring him alone?"

"No, bring all four together. I wish to thank them all at once; devoted men are rare, Tréville, and devotion must be rewarded."

"At noon, Sire, we shall be at the Louvre."

"Ah! by the little staircase, Tréville, by the little staircase. It is useless that the Cardinal should know..."

"Yes, Sire."

"You understand, Tréville, an edict is always an edict; fighting is forbidden, after all."

"But this encounter, Sire, falls quite outside the ordinary conditions of a duel: it is a brawl, and the proof is that there were five cardinal's guards against my three musketeers and M. d'Artagnan."

"That is true," said the king; "but no matter, Tréville, come always by the little staircase."

Tréville smiled. But as it was already much for him to have obtained from this child that he should revolt against his master, he saluted the king respectfully, and with his permission took leave of him.

That very evening, the three musketeers were informed of the honor that was to be conferred upon them. As they had long known the king, they were not too much excited; but d'Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw his future fortune in it, and spent the night dreaming golden dreams. Accordingly, by eight o'clock in the morning, he was at Athos's.

D'Artagnan found the musketeer fully dressed and ready to go out. As the appointment with the king was not until noon, he had formed a plan with Porthos and Aramis to go play tennis in a court situated near the Luxembourg stables. Athos invited d'Artagnan to follow them, and despite his ignorance of that game, which he had never played, the latter accepted, not knowing what to do with his time from nine o'clock in the morning, which it scarcely was, until noon.

The two musketeers had already arrived and were playing together. Athos, who was very strong in all bodily exercises, went with d'Artagnan to the opposite side and challenged them. But at the first movement he attempted, although he played with his left hand, he felt that his wound was still too fresh to permit such exercise. D'Artagnan therefore remained alone, and as he declared that he was too awkward to sustain a regular game, they only continued sending each other balls without keeping score. But one of these balls, sent by Porthos's herculean wrist, passed so close to d'Artagnan's face that he thought if, instead of passing by, it had hit him, his audience would probably have been lost, seeing that it would have been utterly impossible for him to present himself before the king. Now, as upon this audience, in his Gascon imagination, depended all his future, he politely saluted Porthos and Aramis, declaring that he would not resume the game until he was in a condition to hold his own against them, and he went back to take his place near the rope, in the gallery.

Unfortunately for d'Artagnan, among the spectators there was a guard of His Eminence, who, still all heated from the defeat of his companions, which had happened only the day before, had promised himself to seize the first opportunity to avenge it. He believed therefore that this opportunity had come, and addressing his neighbor:

"It is not surprising," he said, "that this young man should be afraid of a ball; it is no doubt an apprentice musketeer."

D'Artagnan turned around as if a serpent had stung him, and looked fixedly at the guard who had just made this insolent remark.

"Pardieu!" resumed the latter, insolently twirling his mustache, "stare at me as much as you like, my little gentleman, I have said what I have said."

"And as what you have said is too clear for your words to need explanation," replied d'Artagnan in a low voice, "I will beg you to follow me."

"And when shall that be?" demanded the guard with the same jeering air.

"Immediately, if you please."

"And you know who I am, no doubt?"

"I do not know at all, and I do not much care."

"And you are wrong, for if you knew my name, perhaps you would be less in a hurry."

"What is your name?"

"Bernajoux, at your service."

"Well, Monsieur Bernajoux," said d'Artagnan quietly, "I will wait for you at the door."

"Go, monsieur, I follow you."

"Do not be too hurried, monsieur, that it may not be observed that we go out together; you understand that for what we are going to do, too many people would be in our way."

"That is well," replied the guard, astonished that his name had not produced more effect upon the young man.

In fact, the name of Bernajoux was known to everybody, except perhaps to d'Artagnan; for it was one of those that figured most frequently in the daily brawls that all the edicts of the king and the cardinal had been unable to repress.

Porthos and Aramis were so occupied with their game, and Athos was watching them so attentively, that they did not even see their young companion go out, who, as he had said to the guard of His Eminence, stopped at the door; an instant after, the guard descended in his turn. As d'Artagnan had no time to lose, seeing the audience with the king was fixed for noon, he cast his eyes around him, and seeing that the street was deserted:

"Faith!" said he to his adversary, "it is very fortunate for you, although you call yourself Bernajoux, to have to deal only with an apprentice musketeer; however, be easy, I will do my best. On guard!"

"But," said he whom d'Artagnan thus provoked, "it seems to me the place is badly chosen, and that we should be better behind the Abbey of Saint-Germain or in the Pré-aux-Clercs."

"What you say is very sensible," replied d'Artagnan; "unfortunately, I have little time to myself, having an appointment at twelve precisely. On guard, therefore, monsieur, on guard!"

Bernajoux was not the man to have such a compliment repeated twice. At the same instant his sword glittered in his hand, and he rushed upon his adversary, whom, thanks to his extreme youth, he hoped to intimidate.

But d'Artagnan had served his apprenticeship the day before, and, fresh from his victory, all puffed up with his future favor, he was resolved not to retreat a step: accordingly the two blades were engaged up to the guard, and as d'Artagnan stood firm in his place, it was his adversary who made a backward step. But d'Artagnan seized the moment when, in this movement, Bernajoux's blade deviated from the line, he disengaged, lunged, and touched his adversary on the shoulder. Immediately d'Artagnan, in his turn, made a backward step and raised his sword; but Bernajoux cried out to him that it was nothing, and rushing blindly upon him, he ran himself upon his sword. However, as he did not fall, as he did not declare himself beaten, but only broke ground toward the Hôtel de La Trémouille, in whose service he had a relative, d'Artagnan, himself ignorant of the gravity of the last wound his adversary had received, pressed him hard, and no doubt would have finished him with a third thrust, when the noise from the street having spread to the tennis court, two of the guard's friends, who had heard him exchange some words with d'Artagnan and had seen him go out after those words, rushed out of the court, sword in hand, and fell upon the victor. But immediately Athos, Porthos, and Aramis appeared in their turn, and at the moment when the two guards were attacking their young comrade, forced them to turn. At that moment Bernajoux fell; and as the guards were only two against four, they began to cry: "To us, the Hôtel de La Trémouille!" At these cries, everyone in the hotel came out, rushing upon the four companions, who on their side began to cry: "To us, musketeers!"

“Stories of the world, in your language.”