The Three Musketeers
“But, observe,” said d’Artagnan, “that there is a woman in the case; a woman who is carried off, and no doubt threatened, perhaps tortured, merely on account of her fidelity to her royal mistress.”
“Take care, d’Artagnan—take care,” said Aramis; “in my opinion you are too interested in Madame Bonancieux. Woman was created for our destruction; and from her all our miseries arise.”
Athos frowned, and bit his lip, whilst he listened to this profound opinion.
“It is not for Madame Bonancieux that I distress myself,” said d’Artagnan, “but for the queen, whom the king abandons, whom the cardinal persecutes, and who sees the execution of all her truest friends in succession.”
“But why will she love what we most detest—the English and the Spaniards?” asked Athos.
“Spain is her country,” replied d’Artagnan, “and it is but natural that she should love the Spaniards, who are her compatriots. As to your first reproach, I never heard that she loved the English, but an Englishman.”
“And truly,” replied Athos, “one must confess, that that Englishman is well worthy of being loved. I never saw a man of a more noble air.”
“Besides, you do not consider the perfect style in which he dresses,” said Porthos. “I was at the Louvre the day he scattered his pearls, and I picked up two which sold for twenty pistoles. Do you know him, Aramis?”
“As well as you do, gentlemen; for I was one of those who arrested him in the garden at Amiens, where the queen’s equerry, M. de Putange, had introduced me. I was at the seminary at that time, and the adventure appeared to me to bear hard upon the king.”
“Which would not hinder me,” said d’Artagnan, “from taking him by the hand, and conducting him to the queen; if it were only to enrage the cardinal. Our one eternal enemy is the cardinal; and if we could find the means of doing him some injury, I confess that I would willingly risk my life to employ them.”
“And the mercer told you, d’Artagnan,” said Athos, “that the queen thought they had decoyed Buckingham into France by some false information?”
“She fears so! And I am convinced,” added d’Artagnan, “that the abduction of this woman, one of the queen’s suite, has some connection with the circumstances of which we are speaking, and perhaps with the presence of his grace the Duke of Buckingham in Paris.”
“The Gascon is full of imagination,” said Porthos.
“I like to hear him talk,” said Athos; “his dialect amuses me.”
“Gentlemen,” said Aramis, “listen!”
“Let us attend to Aramis!” exclaimed the three friends.
“Yesterday, I was at the house of a learned doctor of theology whom I sometimes consult on technical difficulties.”
Athos smiled.
“He lives in a retired spot, convenient to his tastes and his profession. Now, just as I was leaving his house———” Here Aramis hesitated.
“Well!” said his auditors—“just as you were leaving his house?”
Aramis appeared to make an effort, like a man who, in the full swing of making up a story, finds himself suddenly arrested by an unforeseen obstacle; but, as the eyes of his three friends were upon him, he could not by any means draw back.
“This doctor has a niece,” continued Aramis.
“Oh! he has a niece,” interrupted Porthos.
“Yes, a lady of the highest morality,” said Aramis.
The three friends began to laugh.
“Ah! if you either laugh or make insinuations, you shall hear no more,” said Aramis.
“We are credulous as the Mahometans, and dumb as catafalks!” said Athos.
“Then I will continue,” said Aramis. “This niece comes sometimes to see her uncle, and as she was there by chance yesterday at the same time that I was, I was obliged to offer to conduct her to the carriage.”
“Ah! the niece of this doctor has a carriage,” interrupted Porthos, whose chief fault consisted in having too long a tongue. “A desirable connection, my friend!”
“Porthos,” said Aramis, “I have often intimated to you, that you are very indiscreet, and it does you no good in the eyes of gentlemen.”
“Gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, who saw how the adventure arose, “the thing is serious; let us endeavour to avoid joking. Go on, Aramis; go on.”
“All of a sudden a tall, dark man, with the manners of a gentleman—like your man, d’Artagnan———”
“The same, perhaps,” said the Gascon.
“It is possible!” said Aramis; “however, he approached me, accompanied by six or seven men, who followed him at about ten paces’ distance, and then, in the most polite tone, said, ‘My lord duke, and you, madame,’ addressing the lady———”
“What! the doctor’s niece?” said Porthos.
“Silence, Porthos,” said Athos; “you are insupportable.”
“‘Please to enter that carriage, without resistance, and in silence.’”
“He took you for Buckingham?” said d’Artagnan.
“Almost certainly,” said Aramis.
“But this lady?” said Porthos.
“He took her for the queen,” said d’Artagnan.
“Precisely!” said Aramis.
“The Gascon is the devil!” said Athos; “nothing escapes him!”
“The fact is,” said Porthos, “that Aramis is about the height, and has something of the figure, of the handsome duke; and yet one would think that the uniform of a musketeer———”
“I had on an enormous cloak.”
“In the month of July! Excellent!” cried Porthos; “was the doctor afraid that you might be recognised?”
“I can conceive,” said Athos, “that the spy might be deceived by the figure; but the countenance?”
“I had a large hat,” replied Aramis.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Porthos, “what extraordinary precautions for studying theology?”
“Gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, “do not let us lose our time in badinage; let us rather make inquiries, and discover the mercer’s wife, who might prove a key to the intrigue.”
“What! a woman of such an inferior condition! Do you think it likely, d’Artagnan?” asked Porthos, with a derisive pout.
“Have I not told you, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, “that she is the god-daughter of la Porte, who is the confidential servant of the queen. Perhaps it is her majesty’s policy to seek assistance from a source so humble. Lofty heads are visible at a distance, and the cardinal has a good eye.”
“Well, then,” said Porthos, “come to terms with the mercer immediately, and good terms.”
“It is unnecessary,” said d’Artagnan; “if he should not pay us, we shall be well enough paid from another quarter.”
At this moment a noise of hasty steps was heard upon the stairs; the door opened with a crash, and the unhappy mercer rushed into the room in which this council had taken place.
“Oh, gentlemen!” he exclaimed, “save me, save me! in the name of heaven save me! There are four men come to arrest me!”
Porthos and Aramis arose.
“One moment,” cried d’Artagnan, making them a sign to sheath their swords, which they had half drawn—“wait one moment; it is not courage, but diplomacy, that is necessary here!”
“Nevertheless,” said Porthos, “we will not permit———”
“Give d’Artagnan a free hand,” said Athos; “he is the cleverest of the party, and, for my part, I declare that I will obey him. Do what you like, d’Artagnan.”
As this speech was uttered, the four guards appeared at the door of the ante-room, but seeing four musketeers standing there, with swords by their sides, they hesitated to advance any farther.
“Enter, gentlemen, enter,” said d’Artagnan; “you are in my apartment, and we are all the loyal subjects of the king and cardinal.”
“Then, gentlemen, you will not oppose any obstacle to the execution of our orders?” demanded he who appeared to be the leader of the party.
“On the contrary, we would assist you were it necessary.”
“What is he saying?” inquired Porthos.
“You are stupid!” said Athos. “Silence!”
“But you promised to assist me!” whispered the poor mercer.
“We cannot assist you in prison,” hastily replied d’Artagnan, in an undertone; “and if we appear to defend you, we shall be arrested also.”
“It seems to me, however———” said the poor man.
“Come, gentlemen, come,” said d’Artagnan aloud. “I have no motive for defending this person; I saw him today for the first time, and on what occasion he will himself tell you. He came to demand his rent—did you not, M. Bonancieux?—Answer!”
“It is the plain truth!” cried the mercer; “but the gentleman does not add———”
“Silence about me! silence concerning my friends! silence, more especially, about the queen!” whispered d’Artagnan, “or you will destroy us all, without saving yourself,—Go, go, gentlemen, take away this man!”
So saying, d’Artagnan pushed the poor bewildered mercer into the hands of the guard, at the same time exclaiming—
“You are a rascally niggard! You come to demand money of me, a musketeer!—to prison with you! Gentlemen, I say again, take him to prison; and keep him under lock and key as long as possible; that will give me time to pay.”
The officers overwhelmed d’Artagnan with thanks, and carried off their prey.
As they were leaving, d’Artagnan detained the leader.
“Suppose we drank to each other’s health?” said he, filling two glasses with the Beaugency, for which he was indebted to the liberality of M. Bonancieux.
“It will be a great honour to me,” replied the leader of the guards; “and I accept the offer with gratitude.”
“Here’s to you, then, M.———You have the advantage of me, sir.”
“Boisrenard.”
“M. Boisrenard!”
“I drink to you, sir, but, in return, you have the advantage of me.”
“D’Artagnan.”
“To your health, M. d’Artagnan!”
“And, above all,” said d’Artagnan, as if carried away by his enthusiasm, “to the health of the king and the cardinal.”
The officer might have doubted d’Artagnan’s sincerity had the wine been bad; but it was excellent, and he was satisfied.
“But what devil’s own villainy have you done now?” exclaimed Porthos, when the officer had joined his companions, and the four friends found themselves alone. “For shame! Four musketeers allow a miserable creature, who implored their assistance, to be arrested in the midst of them! and, more than that, a gentleman to tipple with a bailiff!”
“Porthos,” said Aramis, “Athos has already told you that you are stupid; and I am of his opinion. D’Artagnan, you are a great man; and when you are in M. de Treville’s situation, I beg your interest to procure me an abbey.”
“Ah! I am quite in the dark!” said Porthos. “Do you also, Athos, approve of what d’Artagnan has done?”
“Most assuredly!” said Athos. “I not only approve of it, but I congratulate him.”
“And now, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, not deigning to explain himself to Porthos—“’All for one—one for all!’ this is our motto, is it not?”
“Nevertheless———” said Porthos.
“Stretch out your hand and swear,” cried Athos and Aramis at the same time.
Conquered by the example, but muttering in a low tone, Porthos stretched out his hand, and the four friends repeated with one voice the formal motto dictated by d’Artagnan—
“‘All for one; and one for all!’”
“That is right. Now, retire to your homes,” said d’Artagnan, as if he had never been accustomed to anything but to command others. “But,” he added, “be watchful; for remember, that from this moment we are at issue with the cardinal!”
10 A Mousetrap of the Seventeenth Century
THE MOUSETRAP IS not a modern invention. As soon as societies had, in establishing, themselves, instituted some kind of police, that police in its turn invented mousetraps.
As our readers are perhaps not familiar with the slang of the Rue de Jerusalem, and as it is, although we have been engaged in authorship for fifteen years, the first time that we have used the word in this signification, let us explain to them what a mousetrap is.
When an individual has been arrested, in any house whatever, on suspicion of some crime, his arrest is kept secret; four or five men are placed in ambush in the front room of this house; all who knock are admitted, and also locked in and detained; and, in this manner, at the end of three or four days, they can lay their fingers on all the frequenters of the establishment.
This, reader, is a mousetrap! and into such a one was M. Bonancieux’s apartment transformed. Whoever applied there, was seized and examined by the cardinal’s people. But as there was a private court leading to the first floor, which d’Artagnan occupied, his visitors were all exempt from this detention. The three musketeers, however, were, in fact, the only visitors he had; and each of these had, by this time, commenced a separate search, but had discovered nothing. Athos had even gone so far as to question M. de Treville—a circumstance which, considering his habitual taciturnity, had greatly surprised his captain. But M. de Treville knew nothing about it; excepting that the last time he had seen either the king, the queen, and the cardinal, the cardinal was very morose, the king very uneasy, and the queen’s eyes were red from watching or weeping. But this last circumstance had not attracted much of his notice, as the queen had, since her marriage, both watched and wept frequently.
Furthermore, M. de Treville strongly advised Athos to be active in the king’s service, and more particularly in the queen’s, and requested him to transmit the advice to his companions.
As to d’Artagnan, he did not stir out of his lodgings. He had converted his room into an observatory. From his own windows he saw everybody who came into the trap; and as he had taken up some squares from the floor, and dug up the deafening, so that nothing but a ceiling separated him from the room below, where the examinations were made, he heard all that passed between the inquisitors and the accused. The interrogatories, which were preceded by a strict search, were almost always in these terms—
“Has Madame Bonancieux entrusted you with anything for her husband or any other person?”
“Has M. Bonancieux entrusted you with anything for his wife, or any one else?”
“Has either of them made any verbal communication to you?”
“If they knew anything, they would not put such questions as these,” said d’Artagnan to himself. “But what are they trying to find out? Whether the Duke of Buckingham is in Paris at present; and if he has not had, or is not about to have, an interview with the queen?”
D’Artagnan stopped at this idea, which, after all that he had heard, was not without its probability. In the meantime, however, both the mousetrap and the vigilance of d’Artagnan remained in operation.
Just as it was striking nine on the evening of the day after poor Bonancieux’s arrest, and just as Athos had left d’Artagnan to go to M. de Treville’s, whilst Planchet, who had not made the bed, was about to do so, there was a knocking at the street door, which was immediately opened, and shut again: it was some new prey caught in the trap.
D’Artagnan rushed towards the unpaved part of his room, and laid himself down to listen. In a short time cries were heard, and then groans, which someone endeavoured to stifle.
There was no thought of examination.
“The devil!” said d’Artagnan to himself; “it seems to me to be a woman; they are searching her, and she resists; the wretches are using violence!”
In spite of his prudence, d’Artagnan had some trouble to restrain himself from interfering in the scene which was being enacted underneath.
“I tell you, gentlemen, that I am the mistress of the house; I am Madame Bonancieux. I tell you that I am a servant of the queen’s!” exclaimed the unfortunate woman.
“Madame Bonancieux!” murmured d’Artagnan; “shall I be so fortunate as to have found her whom everybody searches for in vain?”
“You are the very person we were waiting for,” replied the officers.
The voice became more and more stifled. Violent struggling made the wainscot rattle. The victim was offering all the resistance that one woman could offer against four men.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, by———” murmured the voice, which then
uttered only inarticulate sounds.
“They are gagging her! They are going to abduct her!” ejaculated d’Artagnan, raising himself up with a bound. “My sword!—Right! it is by my side!—Planchet!”
“Sir.”
“Run, and seek Athos, Porthos, and Aramis; one of the three must be at home; perhaps all. Tell them to arm themselves, and hasten here. Ah, now I remember Athos is with M. de Treville.”
“But where are you going, sir?—Where are you going?”
“I shall get down through the window,” said d’Artagnan, “that I may be there sooner. Replace the squares, sweep the floor, go out by the door, and hasten whither I have told you.”
“Oh! sir, you will be killed!” cried Planchet.
“Hold your tongue, idiot!” exclaimed d’Artagnan.
Then, grasping the window-sill, he dropped from the first storey, which was fortunately not high, without giving himself even a scratch. He then went immediately and knocked at the door, muttering—
“I in my turn am going to be caught in the mousetrap; but woe betide the cats who shall deal with such a mouse!”
Scarcely had the knocker sounded beneath the young man’s hand, ere the tumult ceased, and footsteps approached. The door was opened, and d’Artagnan, armed with his naked sword, sprang into the apartment of M. Bonancieux. The door, doubtless moved by a spring, closed automatically behind him.
Then might those who yet inhabited the unfortunate house of M. Bonancieux, as well as the nearest neighbours, hear loud outcries, stampings, and the clashing of swords and the continual crash of furniture. After a moment more, those who had looked from their windows to learn the cause of this surprising noise, might see the door open, and four men clothed in black, not merely go out, but fly like frightened crows, leaving on the ground, and at the corners of the house, their feathers and wings, that is to say, portions of their coats and fragments of their cloaks.
D’Artagnan had come off victorious, without much difficulty, it must be confessed; for only one of the officers was armed, and he had only gone through a form of defence. It is quite true that the other three had endeavoured to knock down the young man with chairs, stools, and crockery, but two or three scratches from the Gascon’s sword had scared them. Ten minutes had sufficed for their defeat, and d’Artagnan had remained master of the field of battle.
The neighbours, who had opened their windows with the indifference habitual to the inhabitants of Paris at that season of perpetual disturbances and riots, closed them again when they saw the four men escape; their instinct told them no more was to be seen for the time. Besides, it was getting late; and then, as well as now, people went to bed early in the quarter of the Luxembourg.
When d’Artagnan was left alone with Madame Bonancieux, he turned towards her. The poor woman was reclining in an easy chair, almost senseless. D’Artagnan examined her with a rapid glance.
She was a charming woman, about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age; with blue eyes, a nose slightly turned up, beautiful teeth, and a complexion of intermingled rose and opal. Here, however, ended the charms which might have confounded her with a lady of high birth. Her hands were white, but not delicately formed; and her feet did not indicate a woman of quality. Fortunately, d’Artagnan was not of an age to be nice in these matters.
Whilst d’Artagnan was examining Madame Bonancieux, and had got, as we have said, to her feet, he saw on the ground a fine cambric handkerchief, which, naturally, he picked up; and, at the corner of it, he discovered the same cipher that he had seen on the handkerchief which had nearly caused him and Aramis to cut one another’s throats. Since that time d’Artagnan had mistrusted all coronetted handkerchiefs; and he now put that which he had picked up into Madame Bonancieux’s pocket, without saying a word. At that moment Madame Bonancieux recovered her senses. She opened her eyes, looked around her in affright, and saw that the room was empty, and that she was alone with her deliverer. She immediately held out her hands to him, with a smile—and Madame Bonancieux had the most charming smile in the world.
“Ah! sir,” said she, “it is you who have saved me; allow me to thank you!”
“Madame,” replied d’Artagnan, “I have only done what any gentleman would have done in my situation. You owe me no thanks.”
“Yes, yes, sir, I do; and I hope to prove to you that this service has not been for naught. But what did these men, whom I at first took for robbers, want with me? and why is not M. Bonancieux here?”
“Madame, these men were far more dangerous than any robbers would have been, for they are agents of the cardinal; and as for your husband, M. Bonancieux, he is not here, because he was taken yesterday to the Bastile.”
“My husband in the Bastile!” cried Madame Bonancieux. “Oh, my God! what can he have done, poor, dear man! Why, he is innocence itself!”
And something like a smile glanced across the yet alarmed countenance of the young woman.
“As to what he has been doing, madame,” said d’Artagnan, “I believe that his only crime consists in having at the same time the good fortune and the misfortune of being your husband.”
“Then, sir, you know?”
“I know that you were carried off, madame.”
“But by whom? do you know that? Oh, if you know, pray tell me!”
“By a man about forty or forty-five years of age, with dark hair, a brown complexion, and a scar on the left temple.”
“Just so, just so: but his name?”
“Ah! his name—I don’t know it myself.”
“And did my husband know that I had been carried off?”
“He had been informed of it by a letter sent him by the ravisher himself.”
“And does he suspect,” demanded Madame Bonancieux, with some confusion, “the cause of this abduction?”
“He attributes it, I believe, to some political cause.”
“At first I doubted whether it was so, but now, as I think, he does; and so my dear M. Bonancieux did not mistrust me for a single instant?”
“Ah! so far from that, madame, he was too proud of your prudence and your love.”
A second smile, almost imperceptible, glided over the rosy lips of the beautiful young woman.
“But,” continued d’Artagnan, “how did you make your escape?”
“I profited by a moment in which I was left alone; and as I learned this morning the cause of my abduction, by the help of my sheets I got out of the window, and hurried here, where I expected to find my husband.”
“To place yourself under his protection?”
“Oh, no! poor dear man! I knew that he was incapable of protecting me; but, as he might be of some service to us, I wished to put him on his guard.”
“Against what?”
“Alas! that is not my secret; and I dare not tell it to you.”
“Besides,” said d’Artagnan—“(pardon me, madame, if, protector as I am, I remind you of prudence)—besides, I think that we are scarcely in a situation suitable for confidences. The men whom I have put to flight will return reinforced, and if they find us here, we shall be lost. I have sent to summon three of my friends, but it is uncertain whether they may be at home!”
“Yes! yes! you are right,” said Madame Bonancieux, in alarm; “let us fly: let us escape!”
And seizing d’Artagnan by his arm, she eagerly drew him along.
“But whither shall we fly? where shall we escape to?” said d’Artagnan.
“Let us get away from this place first, and then, having got clear of it, we shall see.”
Without taking the trouble to shut the door, the two young people hastily passed down the Rue des Fossoyeurs, crossed the Rue des Fosses Monsieur le Prince, and did not stop until they reached the Place de St. Sulpice.
“And now, what next?” inquired d’Artagnan; “and whither would you like me to conduct you?”