“Let us understand each other, milord,” replied D’Artagnan, “and let us weigh things well beforehand, in order that there may be no mistake. I am in the service of the king and queen of France, and form part of the company of M. des Essarts’s guards, who, as well as his brother-in-law, M. de Tréville, is particularly attached to their Majesties. And, besides, it is very probable I should not have done anything of all this if it had not been to make myself agreeable to some one who is my lady, as the queen is yours.”
“I understand,” said the duke, smiling, “and I even believe that I know that other person. It is—”
“Milord, I have not named her!” interrupted the young man quickly.
“That is true,” said the duke. “It is, then, to this person I am bound to discharge my debt of gratitude for your service. Go to the port, ask for the brig Le Sund, and give this letter to the captain. He will convey you to a little port where certainly no one is on the watch for you, and where only fishing-smacks ordinarily run in.”
D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and quickly made his way to the port opposite the Tower of London. He found the vessel that had been named to him, delivered his letter to the captain, who, after having it signed by the warden of the port, set sail at once.
Fifty vessels were waiting ready to sail.
As he was passing alongside of one of them D’Artagnan fancied he perceived on board the lady of Meung, the same whom the unknown gentleman had styled milady, and whom D’Artagnan had thought so handsome. But, thanks to the current of the river and a fair wind, his vessel passed so quickly that he lost sight of her in a moment.
The next day, about five o’clock in the morning, he landed at St. Valery. Four hours later he was in Neufchatel. At Pontoise he changed his horse for the last time, and at nine o’clock galloped into the court of M. de Tréville’s h?tel. He had covered nearly sixty leagues in twelve hours.
M. de Tréville received him as if he had seen him that same morning; only, when pressing his hand a little more warmly than usual, he informing him that M. des Essarts’s company was on duty at the Louvre, and that he might repair to his post.
Chapter 20 - The Ballet of La Merlaison
The next day nothing was talked of in Paris but the ball which the provosts of the city were to give to the king and queen, and in which their Majesties were to dance the famous La Merlaison, the king’s favourite ballet.At midnight great cries and loud acclamations were heard. It was the king passing through the streets which led from the Louvre to the City Hall, and which were all illuminated with coloured lanterns.
A closet had been prepared for the king, and another for Monsieur. In each of these closets were placed masquerade dresses. The same had been done with respect to the queen and Madame la Présidente.
Half an hour after the king’s entrance fresh acclamations were heard. These announced the queen’s arrival. The provosts did as they had done before, and, preceded by their sergeants, went out to receive their illustrious guest.
The king was the first to come out from his closet. He was attired in a most elegant hunting costume, and Monsieur and the other nobles were dressed as he was. This was the costume that was most becoming to the king, and when thus clothed he really appeared the first gentleman of his kingdom.
The cardinal drew near to the king and placed a casket in his hand. The king opened it, and found in it two diamond studs.
“What does this mean?” demanded he of the cardinal.
“Nothing,” replied the latter; “only, if the queen has the studs— but I very much doubt if she has—count them, sire, and if you find only ten, ask her Majesty who can have stolen from her the two studs that are here.”
The king looked at the cardinal as if to ask him what it meant. But he had no time to put any question to him. A cry of admiration burst from every mouth. If the king appeared to be the first gentleman of his kingdom, the queen was assuredly the most beautiful woman in France.
True, her huntress habit was admirably becoming; she wore a beaver hat with blue feathers, a surtout of pearl-grey velvet fastened with diamond clasps, and a petticoat of blue satin embroidered in silver. On her left shoulder sparkled the diamond studs, on a bow of the same colour as the plumes and the petticoat.
The king trembled with joy and the cardinal with vexation. However, at the distance they were from the queen, they could not count the studs. The queen had them; the only question was, had she ten or twelve?
At that moment the violins sounded the signal for the ballet. The king advanced toward Madame la Présidente, with whom he was to dance, and his Highness Monsieur with the queen. They took their places, and the ballet began.
The king danced facing the queen, and every time that he passed by her he devoured with his eyes those studs, the number of which he could not make out. A cold sweat covered the cardinal’s brow.
The ballet lasted an hour. It had sixteen figures.
The ballet ended amid the applause of the whole assemblage, and every one led his partner to her place. But the king took advantage of the privilege he had of leaving his lady to hasten to the queen.
“I thank you, madame,” said he, “for the deference you have shown to my wishes; but I think two of your studs are missing, and I bring them back to you.”
At these words he held out to the queen the two studs the cardinal had given him.
“How, sire?” cried the young queen, affecting surprise; “you are giving me, then, two more. So now I shall have fourteen.”
In fact, the king counted them, and the twelve studs were all on her Majesty’s shoulder.
The king called the cardinal to him.
“What does this mean, cardinal?” asked the king in a severe tone.
“This means, sire,” replied the cardinal, “that I was desirous of presenting her Majesty with these two studs, and that, not venturing to offer them myself, I adopted this means of inducing her to accept them.”
“And I am the more grateful to your Eminence,” replied Anne of Austria, with a smile that proved she was not the dupe of this ingenious piece of gallantry, “since I am certain these two studs have cost you as dearly as all the others cost his Majesty.”
Then, after bowing to the king and the cardinal, the queen took her way to the chamber where she had dressed, and where she was to take off her ball costume.
The attention which we were obliged to give, at the beginning of this chapter, to the illustrious personages we have introduced in it diverted us for an instant from him to whom Anne of Austria owed the extraordinary triumph she had just obtained over the cardinal, and who, obscure, unknown, lost in the crowd gathered at one of the doors, was a witness of this scene, comprehensible only to four persons —the king, the queen, his Eminence, and himself.
The queen had just regained her chamber, and D’Artagnan was about to retire, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned round, and saw a young woman, who made him a sign to follow her. This young woman’s face was covered with a black velvet mask, but notwithstanding this precaution, which was, in fact, taken rather against others than against him, he at once recognized his usual guide, the gay and witty Madame Bonacieux.
The haste which the young woman was in to convey to her mistress the fine news of her messenger’s happy return prevented the two lovers from exchanging more than a few words. D’Artagnan, therefore, followed Madame Bonacieux, moved by a double sentiment, love and curiosity. At length, after a minute or two of turns and counterturns, Madame Bonacieux opened the door of a closet, which was entirely dark, and led the young man into it. There she made a fresh sign of silence, and opening a second door, concealed by a tapestry which as it was drawn aside let in a sudden flood of brilliant light, she disappeared.
D’Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where he could be; but soon a ray of light penetrating from the chamber, the warm and perfumed air reaching even to him, the conversation of two or three ladies in language at once respectful and elegant, and the word “Majesty” many times repeated, clearly indicated to him that he was in a closet adjoining the queen’s chamber.
The young man stood in the shadow and waited.
Although D’Artagnan did not know the queen, he soon distinguished her voice from the others, at first by a slightly foreign accent, and next by that tone of domination naturally impressed upon all royal words. He heard her approach and withdraw from the open door, and twice or three times he even saw the shadow of a body intercept the light.
At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in form and whiteness, suddenly glided through the tapestry. D’Artagnan understood that this was his reward. He cast himself on his knees, seized the hand, and touched it respectfully with his lips; then the hand was withdrawn, leaving in his an object which he perceived to be a ring. The door immediately closed, and D’Artagnan found himself again in complete darkness.
D’Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it was evident that all was not yet over. After the reward of his devotion, the reward of his love was to come. Besides, although the ballet was danced, the evening’s pleasures had scarcely begun. Supper was to be served at three and the clock of St. John had struck three-quarters after two.
In fact, the sound of voices in the adjoining chamber diminished by degrees; the company was then heard departing; then the door of the closet in which D’Artagnan was was opened, and Madame Bonacieux entered quickly.
“You at last?” cried D’Artagnan.
“Silence!” said the young woman, placing her hand upon his lips— “silence! and go the same way you came.”
“But where and when shall I see you again?” cried D’Artagnan.
“A note which you will find at home will tell you. Go! go!”
And at these words she opened the door of the corridor and pushed D’Artagnan out of the closet. D’Artagnan obeyed like a child, without the least resistance or objection, which proves that he was really in love.
Chapter 21 - The Rendezvous
D’Artagnan ran home immediately, and although it was after three o’clock in the morning, and he had the worst quarters of Paris to pass through, he met with no misadventure.
He found the door of his passage open, sprang up the stairs, and knocked softly, in a manner agreed upon between him and his lackey. Planchet, whom he had sent home two hours before from the City Hall, desiring him to sit up for him, came and opened the door.
“Has any one brought a letter for me?” asked D’Artagnan eagerly.
“No one has brought a letter, sir,” replied Planchet; “but there is one come of itself.”
“What do you mean by that, you stupid fellow?”
“I mean that when I came in, although I had the key of your apartment in my pocket and that key had never been out of my possession, I found a letter on the green table-cover in your bedroom.”
“And where is that letter?”
“I left it where I found it, sir.”
In the meantime the young man darted into his chamber and was opening the letter. It was from Madame Bonacieux, and was conceived in these terms:
“Warm thanks are to be offered to you, and to be transmitted to you. Be at St. Cloud this evening about ten o’clock, in front of the pavilion at the corner of M. d’Estrées’s h?tel.—C.B.”
While reading this letter D’Artagnan felt his heart expand and close with that delicious spasm that tortures and caresses the hearts of lovers.
At seven o’clock in the morning he arose and called Planchet, who, at the second summons, opened the door, his countenance not yet quite free from the anxiety of the preceding night.
“Planchet,” said D’Artagnan, “I am going out for all day, perhaps. You are, therefore, your own master till seven o’clock in the evening.”
He took his way toward M. de Tréville’s h?tel. His visit the day before, we remember, had been very short, with little chances for confidential talk.
He found M. de Tréville in a most joyful mood. The king and queen had been charming to him at the ball. The cardinal, however, had been particularly ill-tempered; he had retired at one o’clock under the pretence of being indisposed. Their Majesties did not return to the Louvre till six o’clock.
“Now,” said M. de Tréville, lowering his voice and looking round at every corner of the apartment to see whether they were alone—“now let us talk about yourself, my young friend; for it is evident that your fortunate return has something to do with the king’s joy, the queen’s triumph, and the cardinal’s humiliation. You must look out for yourself.”
“What have I to fear,” replied D’Artagnan, “so long as I have the good fortune to enjoy their Majesties’ favour?”
“Everything, believe me. But, by the way,” resumed M. de Tréville, “what has become of your three companions?”
“I was about to ask you if you had heard no news of them.”
“None whatever, sir.”
Well, I left them on my road—Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel on his hands; Aramis at Crèvec?ur, with a ball in his shoulder; and Athos at Amiens, detained by an accusation of counterfeiting.”
“See there, now!” said M. de Tréville. “And how the devil did you escape?”
“By a miracle, sir, I must acknowledge, with a sword-thrust in my breast, and by nailing Comte de Wardes, on the road to Calais, like a butterfly on a tapestry.”
“There again! De Wardes, one of the cardinal’s men, a cousin of Rochefort’s! But stop, my friend, I have an idea.”
“Speak, sir.”
“In your place, I would do one thing.”
“What, sir?”
“While his Eminence was seeking for me in Paris, I should take, without sound of drum or trumpet, the road to Picardy, and should go and make some enquiries concerning my three companions. What the devil! they richly merit that piece of attention on your part.”
“Your advice is good, sir, and to-morrow I will set out.”
“To-morrow! And why not this evening?”
“This evening, sir, I am detained in Paris by urgent business.”
“Ah, young man, young man! Some love affair. Take care, I repeat to you, take care! Women was the ruin of us all, is the ruin of us all, and will be the ruin of us all, as long as the world stands. Take my advice and set out this evening.”
“It is impossible, sir.”
“You have given your word, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah, that’s quite another thing. But promise me, if you should not happen to be killed to-night, that you will go to-morrow.”
“I promise you, sir.”
“Do you want money?”
“I still have fifty pistoles. That, I think, is as much as I shall need.”
“But your companions?”
“I don’t think they can be in need of any. We left Paris each with seventy-five pistoles in his pocket.”
“Shall I see you again before your departure?”
“I think not, sir, unless something new happens.”
“Well, a pleasant journey to you, then.”
