"But, my lord, if I allow you to escape I am a ruined man."
"I will compensate thee for the loss of thy place."
"You are determined to leave the chateau?"
"By Heaven and earth! This night I am determined to be
free."
"And if I defend myself, or call, or cry out?"
"I will kill thee, on the honor of a gentleman."
At this moment the clock struck.
"Seven o'clock!" said Grimaud, who had not spoken a word.
La Ramee made one movement, in order to satisfy his
conscience. The duke frowned, the officer felt the point of
the poniard, which, having penetrated through his clothes,
was close to his heart.
"Let us dispatch," said the duke.
"My lord, one last favor."
"What? speak, make haste."
"Bind my arms, my lord, fast."
"Why bind thee?"
"That I may not be considered as your accomplice."
"Your hands?" asked Grimaud.
"Not before me, behind me."
"But with what?" asked the duke.
"With your belt, my lord!" replied La Ramee.
The duke undid his belt and gave it to Grimaud, who tied La
Ramee in such a way as to satisfy him.
"Your feet, too," said Grimaud.
La Ramee stretched out his legs, Grimaud took a table-cloth,
tore it into strips and tied La Ramee's feet together.
"Now, my lord," said the poor man, "let me have the poire
d'angoisse. I ask for it; without it I should be tried in a
court of justice because I did not raise the alarm. Thrust
it into my mouth, my lord, thrust it in."
Grimaud prepared to comply with this request, when the
officer made a sign as if he had something to say.
"Speak," said the duke.
"Now, my lord, do not forget, if any harm happens to me on
your account, that I have a wife and four children."
"Rest assured; put the gag in, Grimaud."
In a second La Ramee was gagged and laid prostrate. Two or
three chairs were thrown down as if there had been a
struggle. Grimaud then took from the pocket of the officer
all the keys it contained and first opened the door of the
room in which they were, then shut it and double-locked it,
and both he and the duke proceeded rapidly down the gallery
which led to the little inclosure. At last they reached the
tennis court. It was completely deserted. No sentinels, no
one at any of the windows. The duke ran to the rampart and
perceived on the other side of the ditch, three cavaliers
with two riding horses. The duke exchanged a signal with
them. It was indeed for him that they were there.
Grimaud, meantime, undid the means of escape.
This was not, however, a rope ladder, but a ball of silk
cord, with a narrow board which was to pass between the
legs, the ball to unwind itself by the weight of the person
who sat astride upon the board.
"Go!" said the duke.
"First, my lord?" inquired Grimaud.
"Certainly. If I am caught, I risk nothing but being taken
back again to prison. If they catch thee, thou wilt be
hung."
"True," replied Grimaud.
And instantly, Grimaud, sitting upon the board as if on
horseback, commenced his perilous descent.
The duke followed him with his eyes, with involuntary
terror. He had gone down about three-quarters of the length
of the wall when the cord broke. Grimaud fell --
precipitated into the moat.
The duke uttered a cry, but Grimaud did not give a single
moan. He must have been dreadfully hurt, for he did not stir
from the place where he fell.
Immediately one of the men who were waiting slipped down
into the moat, tied under Grimaud's shoulders the end of a
cord, and the remaining two, who held the other end, drew
Grimaud to them.
"Descend, my lord," said the man in the moat. "There are
only fifteen feet more from the top down here, and the grass
is soft."
The duke had already begun to descend. His task was the more
difficult, as there was no board to support him. He was
obliged to let himself down by his hands and from a height
of fifty feet. But as we have said he was active, strong,
and full of presence of mind. In less than five minutes he
arrived at the end of the cord. He was then only fifteen
feet from the ground, as the gentlemen below had told him.
He let go the rope and fell upon his feet, without receiving
any injury.
He instantly began to climb up the slope of the moat, on the
top of which he met De Rochefort. The other two gentlemen
were unknown to him. Grimaud, in a swoon, was tied securely
to a horse.
"Gentlemen," said the duke, "I will thank you later; now we
have not a moment to lose. On, then! on! those who love me,
follow me!"
And he jumped on his horse and set off at full gallop,
snuffing the fresh air in his triumph and shouting out, with
an expression of face which it would be impossible to
describe:
"Free! free! free!"
24
The timely Arrival of D'Artagnan in Paris.
At Blois, D'Artagnan received the money paid to him by
Mazarin for any future service he might render the cardinal.
From Blois to Paris was a journey of four days for ordinary
travelers, but D'Artagnan arrived on the third day at the
Barriere Saint Denis. In turning the corner of the Rue
Montmartre, in order to reach the Rue Tiquetonne and the
Hotel de la Chevrette, where he had appointed Porthos to
meet him, he saw at one of the windows of the hotel, that
friend himself dressed in a sky-blue waistcoat, embroidered
with silver, and gaping, till he showed every one of his
white teeth; whilst the people passing by admiringly gazed
at this gentleman, so handsome and so rich, who seemed to
weary of his riches and his greatness.
D'Artagnan and Planchet had hardly turned the corner when
Porthos recognized them.
"Eh! D'Artagnan!" he cried. "Thank God you have come!"
"Eh! good-day, dear friend!" replied D'Artagnan.
Porthos came down at once to the threshold of the hotel.
"Ah, my dear friend!" he cried, "what bad stabling for my
horses here."
"Indeed!" said D'Artagnan; "I am most unhappy to hear it, on
account of those fine animals."
"And I, also -- I was also wretchedly off," he answered,
moving backward and forward as he spoke; "and had it not
been for the hostess," he added, with his air of vulgar
self-complacency, "who is very agreeable and understands a
joke, I should have got a lodging elsewhere."
The pretty Madeleine, who had approached during this
colloquy, stepped back and turned pale as death on hearing
Porthos's words, for she thought the scene with the Swiss
was about to be repeated. But to her great surprise
D'Artagnan remained perfectly calm, and instead of being
angry he laughed, and said to Porthos:
"Yes, I understand, the air of La Rue Tiquetonne is not like
that of Pierrefonds; but console yourself, I will soon
conduct you to one much better."
"When will you do that?"
"Immediately, I hope."
"Ah! so much the better!"
To that exclamation of Porthos's succeeded a groaning, low
and profound, which seemed to come from behind a door.
D'Artagnan, who had just dismounted, then saw, outlined
against the wall, the enormous stomach of Musqueton, whose
down-drawn mouth emitted sounds of distress.
"And you, too, my poor Monsieur Mouston, are out of place in
this poor hotel, are you not?" asked D'Artagnan, in that
rallying tone which may indicate either compassion or
mockery.
"He finds the cooking detestable," replied Porthos.
"Why, then, doesn't he attend to it himself, as at
Chantilly?"
"Ah, monsieur, I have not here, as I had there, the ponds of
monsieur le prince, where I could catch those beautiful
carp, nor the forests of his highness to provide me with
partridges. As for the cellar, I have searched every part
and poor stuff I found."
"Monsieur Mouston," said D'Artagnan, "I should indeed
condole with you had I not at this moment something very
pressing to attend to."
Then taking Porthos aside:
"My dear Du Vallon," he said, "here you are in full dress
most fortunately, for I am going to take you to the
cardinal's."
"Gracious me! really!" exclaimed Porthos, opening his great
wondering eyes.
"Yes, my friend."
"A presentation? indeed!"
"Does that alarm you?"
"No, but it agitates me."
"Oh! don't be distressed; you have to deal with a cardinal
of another kind. This one will not oppress you by his
dignity."
"'Tis the same thing -- you understand me, D'Artagnan -- a
court."
"There's no court now. Alas!"
"The queen!"
"I was going to say, there's no longer a queen. The queen!
Rest assured, we shall not see her."
"And you say that we are going from here to the Palais
Royal?"
"Immediately. Only, that there may be no delay, I shall
borrow one of your horses."
"Certainly; all the four are at your service."
"Oh, I need only one of them for the time being."
"Shall we take our valets?"
"Yes, you may as well take Musqueton. As to Planchet, he has
certain reasons for not going to court."
"And what are they?"
"Oh, he doesn't stand well with his eminence."
"Mouston," said Porthos, "saddle Vulcan and Bayard."
"And for myself, monsieur, shall I saddle Rustaud?"
"No, take a more stylish horse, Phoebus or Superbe; we are
going with some ceremony."
"Ah," said Musqueton, breathing more freely, "you are only
going, then, to make a visit?"
"Oh! yes, of course, Mouston; nothing else. But to avoid
risk, put the pistols in the holsters. You will find mine on
my saddle, already loaded."
Mouston breathed a sigh; he couldn't understand visits of
ceremony made under arms.
"Indeed," said Porthos, looking complacently at his old
lackey as he went away, "you are right, D'Artagnan; Mouston
will do; Mouston has a very fine appearance."
D'Artagnan smiled.
"But you, my friend -- are you not going to change your
dress?"
"No, I shall go as I am. This traveling dress will serve to
show the cardinal my haste to obey his commands."
They set out on Vulcan and Bayard, followed by Musqueton on
Phoebus, and arrived at the Palais Royal at about a quarter
to seven. The streets were crowded, for it was the day of
Pentecost, and the crowd looked in wonder at these two
cavaliers; one as fresh as if he had come out of a bandbox,
the other so covered with dust that he looked as if he had
but just come off a field of battle.
Musqueton also attracted attention; and as the romance of
Don Quixote was then the fashion, they said that he was
Sancho, who, after having lost one master, had found two.
On reaching the palace, D'Artagnan sent to his eminence the
letter in which he had been ordered to return without delay.
He was soon ordered to the presence of the cardinal.
"Courage!" he whispered to Porthos, as they proceeded. "Do
not be intimidated. Believe me, the eye of the eagle is
closed forever. We have only the vulture to deal with. Hold
yourself as bolt upright as on the day of the bastion of St.
Gervais, and do not bow too low to this Italian; that might
give him a poor idea of you."
"Good!" answered Porthos. "Good!"
Mazarin was in his study, working at a list of pensions and
benefices, of which he was trying to reduce the number. He
saw D'Artagnan and Porthos enter with internal pleasure, yet
showed no joy in his countenance.
"Ah! you, is it? Monsieur le lieutenant, you have been very
prompt. 'Tis well. Welcome to ye."
"Thanks, my lord. Here I am at your eminence's service, as
well as Monsieur du Vallon, one of my old friends, who used
to conceal his nobility under the name of Porthos."
Porthos bowed to the cardinal.
"A magnificent cavalier," remarked Mazarin.
Porthos turned his head to the right and to the left, and
drew himself up with a movement full of dignity.
"The best swordsman in the kingdom, my lord," said
D'Artagnan.
Porthos bowed to his friend.
Mazarin was as fond of fine soldiers as, in later times,
Frederick of Prussia used to be. He admired the strong
hands, the broad shoulders and the steady eye of Porthos. He
seemed to see before him the salvation of his administration
and of the kingdom, sculptured in flesh and bone. He
remembered that the old association of musketeers was
composed of four persons.
"And your two other friends?" he asked.
Porthos opened his mouth, thinking it a good opportunity to
put in a word in his turn; D'Artagnan checked him by a
glance from the corner of his eye.
"They are prevented at this moment, but will join us later."
Mazarin coughed a little.
"And this gentleman, being disengaged, takes to the service
willingly?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord, and from pure devotion to the cause, for
Monsieur de Bracieux is rich."
"Rich!" said Mazarin, whom that single word always inspired
with a great respect.
"Fifty thousand francs a year," said Porthos.
These were the first words he had spoken.
"From pure zeal?" resumed Mazarin, with his artful smile;
"from pure zeal and devotion then?"
"My lord has, perhaps, no faith in those words?" said
D'Artagnan.
"Have you, Monsieur le Gascon?" asked Mazarin, supporting
his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands.
