Three Musketeers (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Alexandre Dumas

  Athos made him a sign to go to D’Artagnan’s residence, and bring back some clothes. Grimaud replied by another sign that he understood perfectly, and set off.

  “All this will not advance your outfit,” said Athos; “for if I am not mistaken, you have left the best of your apparel with Milady, and she will certainly not have the politeness to return it to you. Fortunately, you have the sapphire.”

  “The jewel is yours, my dear Athos! Did you not tell me it was a family jewel?”

  “Yes, my grandfather gave two thousand crowns for it, as he once told me. It formed part of the nuptial present he made his wife, and it is magnificent. My mother gave it to me, and I, fool as I was, instead of keeping the ring as a holy relic, gave it to this wretch.”

  “Then, my friend, take back this ring, to which I see you attach much value.”

  “I take back the ring, after it has passed through the hands of that infamous creature! Never; that ring is defiled, D’Artagnan.”

  “Sell it, then.”

  “Sell a jewel which came from my mother! I vow I should consider it a profanation.”

  “Pledge it, then; you can borrow at least a thousand crowns on it. With that sum you can extricate yourself from your present difficulties; and when you are full of money again, you can redeem it, and take it back cleansed from its ancient stains, as it will have passed through the hands of usurers.”

  Athos smiled.

  “You are a capital companion, D’Artagnan,” said he; “your never-failing cheerfulness raises poor souls in affliction. Well, let us pledge the ring, but upon one condition.”

  “What?”

  “That there shall be five hundred crowns for you, and five hundred crowns for me.”

  “Don’t dream it, Athos. I don’t need the quarter of such a sum—I who am still only in the Guards—and by selling my saddles, I shall procure it. What do I want? A horse for Planchet, that’s all. Besides, you forget that I have a ring likewise.”

  “To which you attach more value, it seems, than I do to mine; at least, I have thought so.”

  “Yes, for in any extreme circumstance it might not only extricate us from some great embarrassment, but even a great danger. It is not only a valuable diamond, but it is an enchanted talisman.”

  “I don’t at all understand you, but I believe all you say to be true. Let us return to my ring, or rather to yours. You shall take half the sum that will be advanced upon it, or I will throw it into the Seine; and I doubt, as was the case with Polycrates,ap whether any fish will be sufficiently complaisant to bring it back to us.”

  “Well, I will take it, then,” said D’Artagnan.

  At this moment Grimaud returned, accompanied by Planchet; the latter, anxious about his master and curious to know what had happened to him, had taken advantage of the opportunity and brought the garments himself.

  D’Artagnan dressed himself, and Athos did the same. When the two were ready to go out, the latter made Grimaud the sign of a man taking aim, and the lackey immediately took down his musketoon, and prepared to follow his master.

  They arrived without accident at the Rue des Fossoyeurs. Bonacieux was standing at the door, and looked at D’Artagnan hatefully.

  “Make haste, dear lodger,” said he; “there is a very pretty girl waiting for you upstairs; and you know women don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “That’s Kitty!” said D’Artagnan to himself, and darted into the passage.

  Sure enough! Upon the landing leading to the chamber, and crouching against the door, he found the poor girl, all in a tremble. As soon as she perceived him, she cried, “You have promised your protection; you have promised to save me from her anger. Remember, it is you who have ruined me!”

  “Yes, yes, to be sure, Kitty,” said D’Artagnan; “be at ease, my girl. But what happened after my departure?”

  “How can I tell?” said Kitty. “The lackeys were brought by the cries she made. She was mad with passion. There exist no imprecations she did not pour out against you. Then I thought she would remember it was through my chamber you had penetrated hers, and that then she would suppose I was your accomplice; so I took what little money I had and the best of my things, and I got away.”

  “Poor, dear girl! But what can I do with you? I am going away the day after tomorrow.”

  “Do what you please, Monsieur Chevalier. Help me out of Paris; help me out of France!”

  “I cannot take you, however, to the siege of La Rochelle,” said D’Artagnan.

  “No; but you can place me in one of the provinces with some lady of your acquaintance—in your own country, for instance.”

  “My dear little love! In my country the ladies do without chambermaids. But stop! I can manage your business for you. Planchet, go and find Aramis. Request him to come here directly. We have something very important to say to him.”

  “I understand,” said Athos; “but why not Porthos? I should have thought that his duchess—”

  “Oh, Porthos’s duchess is dressed by her husband’s clerks,” said D’Artagnan, laughing. “Besides, Kitty would not like to live in the Rue aux Ours. Isn’t it so, Kitty?”

  “I do not care where I live,” said Kitty, “provided I am well concealed, and nobody knows where I am.”

  “Meanwhile, Kitty, when we are about to separate, and you are no longer jealous of me—”

  “Monsieur Chevalier, far off or near,” said Kitty, “I shall always love you.”

  “Where the devil will constancy niche itself next?” murmured Athos.

  “And I, also,” said D’Artagnan, “I also. I shall always love you; be sure of that. But now, answer me. I attach great importance to the question I am about to put to you. Did you never hear talk of a young woman who was carried off one night?”

  “There, now! Oh, Monsieur Chevalier, do you love that woman still?”

  “No, no; it is one of my friends who loves her—Monsieur Athos, this gentleman here.”

  “I?” cried Athos, with an accent like that of a man who perceives he is about to tread upon an adder.

  “You, to be sure!” said D‘Artagnan, pressing Athos’s hand. “You know the interest we both take in this poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty will tell nothing; will you, Kitty? You understand, my dear girl,” continued D’Artagnan, “she is the wife of that frightful baboon you saw at the door as you came in.”

  “Oh, my God! You remind me of my fright! If he should have known me again!”

  “How? know you again? Did you ever see that man before?”

  “He came twice to Milady’s.”

  “That’s it. About what time?”

  “Why, about fifteen or eighteen days ago.”

  “Exactly so.”

  “And yesterday evening he came again.”

  “Yesterday evening?”

  “Yes, just before you came.”

  “My dear Athos, we are enveloped in a network of spies. And do you believe he knew you again, Kitty?”

  “I pulled down my hood as soon as I saw him, but perhaps it was too late.”

  “Go down, Athos—he mistrusts you less than me—and see if he be still at his door.”

  Athos went down and returned immediately.

  “He has gone,” said he, “and the house door is shut.”

  “He has gone to make his report, and to say that all the pigeons are at this moment in the dovecot.”

  “Well, then, let us all fly,” said Athos, “and leave nobody here but Planchet to bring us news.”

  “A minute. Aramis, whom we have sent for!”

  “That’s true,” said Athos; “we must wait for Aramis.”

  At that moment Aramis entered.

  The matter was all explained to him, and the friends gave him to understand that among all his high connections he must find a place for Kitty.

  Aramis reflected for a minute, and then said, coloring, “Will it be really rendering you a service, D’Artagnan?”

  “I shall be grateful
to you all my life.”

  “Very well. Madame de Bois-Tracy asked me, for one of her friends who resides in the provinces, I believe, for a trustworthy maid. If you can, my dear D’Artagnan, answer for Mademoiselle—”

  “Oh, monsieur, be assured that I shall be entirely devoted to the person who will give me the means of quitting Paris.”

  “Then,” said Aramis, “this falls out very well.”

  He placed himself at the table and wrote a little note which he sealed with a ring, and gave the billet to Kitty.

  “And now, my dear girl,” said D’Artagnan, “you know that it is not good for any of us to be here. Therefore let us separate. We shall meet again in better days.”

  “And whenever we find each other, in whatever place it may be,” said Kitty, “you will find me loving you as I love you today.”

  “Dicer’s oaths!” said Athos, while D’Artagnan went to conduct Kitty downstairs.

  An instant afterward the three young men separated, agreeing to meet again at four o’clock with Athos, and leaving Planchet to guard the house.

  Aramis returned home, and Athos and D’Artagnan busied themselves about pledging the sapphire.

  As the Gascon had foreseen, they easily obtained three hundred pistoles on the ring. Still further, the Jew told them that if they would sell it to him, as it would make a magnificent pendant for earrings, he would give five hundred pistoles for it.

  Athos and D‘Artagnan, with the activity of two soldiers and the knowledge of two connoisseurs, hardly required three hours to purchase the entire equipment of the Musketeer. Besides, Athos was very easy, and a noble to his fingers’ ends. When a thing suited him he paid the price demanded, without thinking to ask for any abatement. D’Artagnan would have remonstrated at this; but Athos put his hand upon his shoulder, with a smile, and D’Artagnan understood that it was all very well for such a little Gascon gentleman as himself to drive a bargain, but not for a man who had the bearing of a prince. The Musketeer met with a superb Andalusian horse, black as jet, nostrils of fire, legs clean and elegant, rising six years. He examined him, and found him sound and without blemish. They asked a thousand livres for him.

  He might perhaps have been bought for less; but while D’Artagnan was discussing the price with the dealer, Athos was counting out the money on the table.

  Grimaud had a stout, short Picard cob, which cost three hundred livres.

  But when the saddle and arms for Grimaud were purchased, Athos had not a sou left of his hundred and fifty pistoles. D’Artagnan offered his friend a part of his share which he should return when convenient.

  But Athos only replied to this proposal by shrugging his shoulders.

  “How much did the Jew say he would give for the sapphire if he purchased it?” said Athos.

  “Five hundred pistoles.”

  “That is to say, two hundred more—a hundred pistoles for you and a hundred pistoles for me. Well, now, that would be a real fortune to us, my friend; let us go back to the Jew’s again.”

  “What! will you—”

  “This ring would certainly only recall very bitter remembrances; then we shall never be masters of three hundred pistoles to redeem it, so that we really should lose two hundred pistoles by the bargain. Go and tell him the ring is his, D’Artagnan, and bring back the two hundred pistoles with you.”

  “Reflect, Athos!”

  “Ready money is needful for the present time, and we must learn how to make sacrifices. Go, D’Artagnan, go; Grimaud will accompany you with his musketoon.”

  A half hour afterward, D’Artagnan returned with the two thousand livres, and without having met with any accident.

  It was thus Athos found at home resources which he did not expect.

  39

  A VISION

  A four o’clock the four friends were all assembled with Athos. Their anxiety about their outfits had all disappeared, and each countenance only preserved the expression of its own secret disquiet—for behind all present happiness is concealed a fear for the future.

  Suddenly Planchet entered, bringing two letters for D’Artagnan.

  The one was a little billet, genteelly folded, with a pretty seal in green wax on which was impressed a dove bearing a green branch.

  The other was a large square epistle, resplendent with the terrible arms of his Eminence the cardinal duke.

  At the sight of the little letter the heart of D’Artagnan bounded, for he believed he recognized the handwriting, and although he had seen that writing but once, the memory of it remained at the bottom of his heart.

  He therefore seized the little epistle, and opened it eagerly.

  “Be,” said the letter, “on Thursday next, at from six to seven o’clock in the evening, on the road to Chaillot, and look carefully into the carriages that pass; but if you have any consideration for your own life or that of those who love you, do not speak a single word, do not make a movement which may lead anyone to believe you have recognized her who exposes herself to everything for the sake of seeing you but for an instant.”

  No signature.

  “That’s a snare,” said Athos; “don’t go, D’Artagnan.”

  “And yet,” replied D’Artagnan, “I think I recognize the writing.”

  “It may be counterfeit,” said Athos. “Between six and seven o’clock the road of Chaillot is quite deserted; you might as well go and ride in the forest of Bondy.”

  “But suppose we all go,” said D’Artagnan; “what the devil! they won’t devour us all four, four lackeys, horses, arms, and all!”

  “And besides, it will be a chance for displaying our new equipments,” said Porthos.

  “But if it is a woman who writes,” said Aramis, “and that woman desires not to be seen, remember, you compromise her, D’Artagnan; which is not the part of a gentleman.”

  “We will remain in the background,” said Porthos, “and he will advance alone.”

  “Yes; but a pistol shot is easily fired from a carriage which goes at a gallop.”

  “Bah!” said D’Artagnan, “they will miss me; if they fire we will ride after the carriage, and exterminate those who may be in it. They must be enemies.”

  “He is right,” said Porthos; “battle. Besides, we must try our new arms.

  “Bah, let us enjoy that pleasure,” said Aramis, with his mild and careless manner.

  “As you please,” said Athos.

  “Gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “it is half past four, and we have scarcely time to be on the road of Chaillot by six.”

  “Besides, if we go out too late, nobody will see us,” said Porthos, “and that will be a pity. Let us get ready, gentlemen.

  “But this second letter,” said Athos, “you forget that; it appears to me, however, that the seal denotes that it deserves to be opened. For my part, I believe, D’Artagnan, I think it of much more consequence than the little piece of waste paper you have so cunningly slipped into your bosom.”

  D’Artagnan blushed.

  “Well,” said he, “let us see, gentlemen, what are his Eminence’s commands,” and D’Artagnan unsealed the letter and read,

  “M. d‘Artagnan, of the king’s Guards, company Dessessart, is expected at the Palais-Cardinal this evening, at eight o’clock.

  La Houdiniere,

  Captain of the Guards”

  “The devil!” said Athos; “here’s a rendezvous much more serious than the other.”

  “I will go to the second after attending the first,” said D’Artagnan. “One is for seven o’clock, and the other for eight; there will be time for both.”

  “Hum! I would not go at all,” said Aramis. “A gallant knight cannot decline a rendezvous with a lady; but a prudent gentleman may excuse himself from not waiting on his Eminence, particularly when he has reason to believe he is not invited to make his compliments.”

  “I am of Aramis’s opinion,” said Porthos.

  “Gentlemen,” replied D’Artagnan, “I have already received by Monsieur
de Cavois a similar invitation from his Eminence. I neglected it, and on the morrow a serious misfortune happened to me—Constance disappeared. Whatever may ensue, I will go.”

  “If you are determined,” said Athos, “do so.”

  “But the Bastille?” said Aramis.

  “Bah! you will get me out if they put me there,” said D’Artagnan.

  “To be sure we will,” replied Aramis and Porthos, with admirable promptness and decision, as if that were the simplest thing in the world, “to be sure we will get you out; but meantime, as we are to set off the day after tomorrow, you would do much better not to risk this Bastille.”

  “Let us do better than that,” said Athos; “do not let us leave him during the whole evening. Let each of us wait at a gate of the palace with three Musketeers behind him; if we see a close carriage, at all suspicious in appearance, come out, let us fall upon it. It is a long time since we have had a skirmish with the Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal; Monsieur de Tréville must think us dead.”

  “To a certainty, Athos,” said Aramis, “you were meant to be a general of the army! What do you think of the plan, gentlemen?”

  “Admirable!” replied the young men in chorus.

  “Well,” said Porthos, “I will run to the hotel, and engage our comrades to hold themselves in readiness by eight o’clock; the rendezvous, the Place du Palais-Cardinal. Meantime, you see that the lackeys saddle the horses.”

  “I have no horse,” said D’Artagnan; “but that is of no consequence, I can take one of Monsieur de Tréville’s.”

  “That is not worth while,” said Aramis, “you can have one of mine.”

  “One of yours! how many have you, then?” asked D’Artagnan.

  “Three,” replied Aramis, smiling.

  “Certes,” cried Athos, “you are the best-mounted poet of France or Navarre.”

  “Well, my dear Aramis, you don’t want three horses? I cannot comprehend what induced you to buy three!”

  “Therefore I only purchased two,” said Aramis.

  “The third, then, fell from the clouds, I suppose?”

  “No, the third was brought to me this very morning by a groom out of livery, who would not tell me in whose service he was, and who said he had received orders from his master.”