Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

  The spectacle which the Greve now presented was a frightful one. Theheads, leveled by the perspective, extended afar, thick and agitated asthe ears of corn in a vast plain. From time to time a fresh report, or adistant rumor, made the heads oscillate and thousands of eyes flash. Nowand then there were great movements. All those ears of corn bent, andbecame waves more agitated than those of the ocean, which rolled fromthe extremities to the center, and beat, like the tides, against thehedge of archers who surrounded the gibbets. Then the handles ofthe halberds were let fall upon the heads and shoulders of the rashinvaders; at times, also, it was the steel as well as the wood, and,in that case, a large empty circle was formed around the guard; a spaceconquered upon the extremities, which underwent, in their turn theoppression of the sudden movement, which drove them against the parapetsof the Seine. From the window, that commanded a view of the whole Place,D'Artagnan saw, with interior satisfaction, that such of the musketeersand guards as found themselves involved in the crowd, were able, withblows of their fists and the hilts of their swords, to keep room. Heeven remarked that they had succeeded, by that esprit de corps whichdoubles the strength of the soldier, in getting together in one group tothe amount of about fifty men; and that, with the exception of a dozenstragglers whom he still saw rolling here and there, the nucleus wascomplete, and within reach of his voice. But it was not the musketeersand guards only that drew the attention of D'Artagnan. Around thegibbets, and particularly at the entrances to the arcade of Saint Jean,moved a noisy mass, a busy mass; daring faces, resolute demeanors wereto be seen here and there, mingled with silly faces and indifferentdemeanors; signals were exchanged, hands given and taken. D'Artagnanremarked among the groups, and those groups the most animated, the faceof the cavalier whom he had seen enter by the door of communication fromhis garden, and who had gone upstairs to harangue the drinkers. That manwas organizing troops and giving orders.

  "Mordioux!" said D'Artagnan to himself, "I was not deceived; I know thatman,--it is Menneville. What the devil is he doing here?"

  A distant murmur, which became more distinct by degrees, stoppedthis reflection, and drew his attention another way. This murmur wasoccasioned by the arrival of the culprits; a strong picket of archerspreceded them, and appeared at the angle of the arcade. The entire crowdnow joined as if in one cry; all the cries united formed one immensehowl. D'Artagnan saw Raoul was becoming pale, and he slapped him roughlyon the shoulder. The fire-keepers turned round on hearing the greatcry, and asked what was going on. "The condemned are arrived," saidD'Artagnan. "That's well," replied they, again replenishing the fire.D'Artagnan looked at them with much uneasiness; it was evident thatthese men who were making such a fire for no apparent purpose had somestrange intentions. The condemned appeared upon the Place. They werewalking, the executioner before them, whilst fifty archers formed ahedge on their right and their left. Both were dressed in black; theyappeared pale, but firm. They looked impatiently over the people'sheads, standing on tip-toe at every step. D'Artagnan remarked this."Mordioux!" cried he, "they are in a great hurry to get a sight of thegibbet!" Raoul drew back, without, however, having the power to leavethe window. Terror even has its attractions.

  "To the death! to the death!" cried fifty thousand voices.

  "Yes; to the death!" howled a hundred frantic others, as if the greatmass had given them the reply.

  "To the halter! to the halter!" cried the great whole; "Vive le roi!"

  "Well," said D'Artagnan, "this is droll; I should have thought it was M.Colbert who had caused them to be hung."

  There was, at this moment, a great rolling movement in the crowd, whichstopped for a moment the march of the condemned. The people of a boldand resolute mien, whom D'Artagnan had observed, by dint of pressing,pushing, and lifting themselves up, had succeeded in almost touching thehedge of archers. The cortege resumed its march. All at once, to criesof "Vive Colbert!" those men, of whom D'Artagnan never lost sight, fellupon the escort, which in vain endeavored to stand against them. Behindthese men was the crowd. Then commenced, amidst a frightful tumult, asfrightful a confusion. This time there was something more than cries ofexpectation or cries of joy, there were cries of pain. Halberds struckmen down, swords ran them through, muskets were discharged at them.The confusion became then so great that D'Artagnan could no longerdistinguish anything. Then, from this chaos, suddenly surged somethinglike a visible intention, like a will pronounced. The condemned had beentorn from the hands of the guards, and were being dragged towards thehouse of L'Image-de-Notre-Dame. Those who dragged them shouted, "ViveColbert!" The people hesitated, not knowing which they ought to fallupon, the archers or the aggressors. What stopped the people was, thatthose who cried "Vive Colbert!" began to cry, at the same time, "Nohalter! no halter! to the fire! to the fire! burn the thieves! burn theextortioners!" This cry, shouted with an ensemble, obtained enthusiasticsuccess. The populace had come to witness an execution, and here was anopportunity offered them of performing one themselves. It was thisthat must be most agreeable to the populace: therefore, they ranged,themselves immediately on the party of the aggressors against thearchers, crying with the minority, which had become, thanks to them,the most compact majority: "Yes, yes: to the fire with the thieves! ViveColbert!"

  "Mordioux!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, "this begins to look serious."

  One of the men who remained near the chimney approached the window, afirebrand in his hand. "Ah, ah!" said he, "it gets warm." Then, turningto his companion: "There is the signal," added he; and he immediatelyapplied the burning brand to the wainscoting. Now, this cabaret of theImage-de-Notre-Dame was not a very newly-built house, and therefore didnot require much entreating to take fire. In a second the boards beganto crackle, and the flames arose sparkling to the ceiling. A howlingfrom without replied to the shouts of the incendiaries. D'Artagnan, whohad not seen what passed, from being engaged at the window, felt, at thesame time, the smoke which choked him and the fire that scorched him."Hola!" cried he, turning round, "is the fire here? Are you drunk ormad, my masters?"

  The two men looked at each other with an air of astonishment. "In what?"asked they of D'Artagnan; "was it not a thing agreed upon?"

  "A thing agreed upon that you should burn my house!" vociferatedD'Artagnan, snatching the brand from the hand of the incendiary, andstriking him with it across the face. The second wanted to assist hiscomrade, but Raoul, seizing him by the middle, threw him out of thewindow, whilst D'Artagnan pushed his man down the stairs. Raoul, firstdisengaged, tore the burning wainscoting down, and threw it flaming intothe chamber. At a glance D'Artagnan saw there was nothing to be fearedfrom the fire, and sprang to the window. The disorder was at its height.The air was filled with simultaneous cries of "To the fire!" "To thedeath!" "To the halter!" "To the stake!" "Vive Colbert!" "Vive le roi!"The group which had forced the culprits from the hands of the archershad drawn close to the house, which appeared to be the goal towardswhich they dragged them. Menneville was at the head of this group,shouting louder than all the others, "To the fire! to the fire! ViveColbert!" D'Artagnan began to comprehend what was meant. They wanted toburn the condemned, and his house was to serve as a funeral pile.

  "Halt, there!" cried he, sword in hand, and one foot upon the window."Menneville, what do you want to do?"

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried the latter; "give way, give way!"

  "To the fire! to the fire with the thieves! Vive Colbert!"

  These cries exasperated D'Artagnan. "Mordioux!" said he. "What! burn thepoor devils who are only condemned to be hung? that is infamous!"

  Before the door, however, the mass of anxious spectators, rolledback against the walls, had become more thick, and closed up the way.Menneville and his men, who were dragging along the culprits, werewithin ten paces of the door.

  Menneville made a last effort. "Passage! passage!" cried he, pistol inhand.

  "Burn them! burn them!" repeated the crowd. "The Image-de-Notre-Dameis on fire! Burn the thieves! burn the monopolists in theImage-d
e-Notre-Dame!"

  There now remained no doubt, it was plainly D'Artagnan's house that wastheir object. D'Artagnan remembered the old cry, always so effectivefrom his mouth:

  "A moi! mousquetaires!" shouted he, with the voice of a giant, with oneof those voices which dominate over cannon, the sea, the tempest. "Amoi! mousquetaires!" And suspending himself by the arm from the balcony,he allowed himself to drop amidst the crowd, which began to draw backfrom a house that rained men. Raoul was on the ground as soon ashe, both sword in hand. All the musketeers on the Place heardthat challenging cry--all turned round at that cry, and recognizedD'Artagnan. "To the captain, to the captain!" cried they, in their turn.And the crowd opened before them as though before the prow of a vessel.At that moment D'Artagnan and Menneville found themselves face to face."Passage, passage!" cried Menneville, seeing that he was within an arm'slength of the door.

  "No one passes here," said D'Artagnan.

  "Take that, then!" said Menneville, firing his pistol, almost withinarm's length. But before the cock fell, D'Artagnan had struck upMenneville's arm with the hilt of his sword and passed the blade throughhis body.

  "I told you plainly to keep yourself quiet," said D'Artagnan toMenneville, who rolled at his feet.

  "Passage! passage!" cried the companions of Menneville, at firstterrified, but soon recovering, when they found they had only to do withtwo men. But those two men were hundred-armed giants, the swords flewabout in their hands like the burning glaive of the archangel. Theypierce with its point, strike with the flat, cut with the edge, everystroke brings down a man. "For the king!" cried D'Artagnan, to every manhe struck at, that is to say, to every man that fell. This crybecame the charging word for the musketeers, who guided by it, joinedD'Artagnan. During this time the archers, recovering from the panic theyhad undergone, charge the aggressors in the rear, and regular as millstrokes, overturn or knock down all that oppose them. The crowd, whichsees swords gleaming, and drops of blood flying in the air--the crowdfalls back and crushes itself. At length cries for mercy and of despairresound; that is, the farewell of the vanquished. The two condemned areagain in the hands of the archers. D'Artagnan approaches them, seeingthem pale and sinking: "Console yourselves, poor men," said he, "youwill not undergo the frightful torture with which these wretchesthreatened you. The king has condemned you to be hung: you shall only behung. Go on, hang them, and it will be over."

  There is no longer anything going on at the Image-de-Notre-Dame. Thefire has been extinguished with two tuns of wine in default of water.The conspirators have fled by the garden. The archers were dragging theculprits to the gibbets. From this moment the affair did not occupy muchtime. The executioner, heedless about operating according to the rulesof art, made such haste that he dispatched the condemned in a couple ofminutes. In the meantime the people gathered around D'Artagnan,--theyfelicitated, they cheered him. He wiped his brow, streaming with sweat,and his sword, streaming with blood. He shrugged his shoulders at seeingMenneville writhing at his feet in the last convulsions. And, whileRaoul turned away his eyes in compassion, he pointed to the musketeersthe gibbets laden with their melancholy fruit. "Poor devils!" said he,"I hope they died blessing me, for I saved them with great difficulty."These words caught the ear of Menneville at the moment when he himselfwas breathing his last sigh. A dark, ironical smile flitted across hislips, he wished to reply, but the effort hastened the snapping of thechord of life--he expired.

  "Oh! all this is very frightful!" murmured Raoul: "let us begone,monsieur le chevalier."

  "You are not wounded?" asked D'Artagnan.

  "Not at all, thank you."

  "That's well! Thou art a brave fellow, mordioux! The head of the father,and the arm of Porthos. Ah! if he had been here, good Porthos, youwould have seen something worth looking at." Then as if by way ofremembrance--

  "But where the devil can that brave Porthos be?" murmured D'Artagnan.

  "Come, chevalier, pray come away," urged Raoul.

  "One minute, my friend, let me take my thirty-seven and a halfpistoles and I am at your service. The house is a good property," addedD'Artagnan, as he entered the Image-de-Notre-Dame, "but decidedly,even if it were less profitable, I should prefer its being in anotherquarter."

  CHAPTER 63. How M. d'Eymeris's Diamond passed into the Hands of M.D'Artagnan.