“Take it,” said she, “and be damned!”
Athos took the paper, returned the pistol to his belt, approached the lamp to be assured that it was the right paper, unfolded it, and read,
“August 5, 1628.
“By my order, and for the good of the State, the bearer hereof has done what he has done.
Richelieu.”
“And now,” said Athos, taking up his cloak again and putting on his hat—“now that I have drawn your teeth, viper, bite if you can.”
And he left the chamber without once looking behind him.
At the door he found the two men, and the horse which they held.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you know monseigneur’s order is for you to conduct that woman, without losing time, to Fort de la Pointe, and not to leave her till she is on board.”
As his words agreed exactly with the order they had received, they bowed in sign of assent.
Athos leaped lightly into his saddle, and set out at full gallop; only, instead of following the road, he took across the fields, urging his horse to the utmost, and stopping occasionally to listen.
In one of his halts he heard the trampling of several horses on the road. He had no doubt it was the cardinal and his escort. He immediately galloped on ahead, rubbed his horse down with some heather and leaves of trees, and then placed himself in the middle of the road, about two hundred paces from the camp.
“Who goes there?” cried he, as soon as he saw the horsemen coming.
“That is our brave musketeer, I think,” said the cardinal.
“Yes, monseigneur,” said Porthos, “it is he.”
“Monsieur Athos,” said Richelieu, “receive my thanks for the good guard you have kept. Gentlemen, we are here; take the gate on the left. The watchword is ‘King and Ré.’ ”
On saying these words the cardinal bent his head in salutation of the three friends, and took the right hand, followed by his attendant, for that night he himself was to sleep in camp.
“Well,” said Porthos and Aramis together, as soon as the cardinal was out of hearing—“well, he signed the paper she asked for!”
“I know he did,” said Athos, “and here it is.”
And the three friends did not exchange another word till they got to their quarters, except to give the watchword to the sentinels.
But they sent Mousqueton to tell Planchet that his master was requested to come to the quarters of the musketeers the instant he left the trenches.
Milady, as Athos had foreseen, on finding the two men awaiting her, made no objection to going with them.
Consequently, after travelling all night, she was at seven o’clock at Fort de la Pointe; at eight o’clock she had embarked; and at nine the vessel, which, with letters of marque from the cardinal, was supposed to be going to Bayonne, raised anchor and set sail toward England.
Chapter 41 - The Bastion St. Gervais
On rejoining his three friends, D’Artagnan found them assembled in the same room. Athos was meditating, Porthos was twirling his moustache, Aramis was reading prayers in a charming little Book of Hours, bound in blue velvet.
“By Jove,” said he, “gentlemen, I hope what you have to tell me is worth the trouble; or else, I warn you, I will not pardon you for making me come here instead of getting a little rest, after a night spent in taking and dismantling a bastion. Ah! why were you not there, gentlemen? It was warm work.”
“We were in a place where it was not very cold!” replied Porthos, giving his moustache a twirl that was peculiar to him.
“Hush!” said Athos.
“Oh, ho!” said D’Artagnan, comprehending the musketeer’s slight frown; “it appears there is something new on hand.”
“Aramis,” said Athos, “you went to breakfast the day before yesterday at the tavern of the Infidel, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“How did you fare?”
“For my part, I ate but little. The day before yesterday was a fastday, and they had nothing but meat.”
“But that is not quite what I asked you,” replied Athos. “I want to know if you were left alone, and nobody interrupted you.”
“Why, I think there were not many intruders. Yes, Athos, I know what you mean; we shall do very well at the Infidel.”
“Let us go to the Infidel, then; for here the walls are like sheets of paper.”
D’Artagnan, who was accustomed to his friend’s manner of acting, and perceived immediately by a word, a gesture, or a sign from him that the circumstances were serious, took Athos’s arm, and went out with him without saying anything. Porthos followed, chatting with Aramis.
On their way they fell in with Grimaud. Athos beckoned him to come with them. Grimaud, as uusal, silently obeyed; the poor lad had nearly come to the pass of forgetting how to speak.
They arrived at the taproom of the Infidel; it was seven o’clock in the morning, and daylight began to appear. The three friends ordered breakfast, and went into a room in which, the host said, they were not likely to be disturbed.
Unfortunately, the hour was baby chosen for a private conference. Reveille had just been beaten; every one was shaking off the drowsiness of night, and, to dispel the humid morning air, came to take a drop at the bar. Dragoons, Swiss, guardsmen, musketeers, light-horsemen succeeded one another with a rapidity which might answer the landlord’s purposes very well, but agreed badly with the views of the four friends. Thus they replied very curtly to the salutations, healths, and jokes of their companions.
“Come,” said Athos; “we shall get into some pretty quarrel or other, and we don’t need one just now. D’Artagnan, tell us what sort of a night you had, and we will describe ours afterwards.”
“Ah, yes!” said a light-horseman, lolling about with a glass of brandy in his hand, which he was leisurely sipping—“ah, yes! You gentlemen of the guards were in the trenches last night, and you had a bone to pick with the Rochellais.”
D’Artagnan looked at Athos to know if he ought to reply to this intruder, who mixed unasked in their conversation.
“Well,” said Athos, “don’t you hear M. de Busigny, who does you the honour of addressing you? Relate what has passed during the night, since these gentlemen wish to know.”
“Did you not take a bastion?” asked a Swiss, who was drinking rum out of a beer-glass.
“Yes, sir,” said D’Artagnan, bowing; “we had that honour. As you may have heard, we even put a barrel of powder under one of the angles, which, when it blew up, made a very pretty breach—without reckoning that, as the bastion was not built yesterday, all the rest of the building was much shaken.”
“And which bastion was it?” asked a dragoon, with his sabre run through a goose, which he was taking to have cooked.
“The bastion St. Gervais,” replied D’Artagnan, “from behind which the Rochellais have been annoying our workmen.”
“Was the affair hot?”
“Yes, moderately so. We lost five men, and the Rochellais eight or ten.”
“Balzempleu!” said the Swiss, who, notwithstanding the admirable stock of oaths possessed by the German language, had acquired the habit of swearing in French.
“But,” said the light-horseman, “probably they will send pioneers this morning to repair the bastion.”
“Yes, probably,” said D’Artagnan.
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “I have a wager to propose.”
“Ah, ha! a vager!” cried the Swiss.
“What is it?” said the light-horseman.
“Stop a bit,” said the dragoon, placing his sabre like a spit upon the two large iron dogs which held the firebrands on the hearth—“stop a bit; I am in it.—You dog of a landlord! a dripping-pan instantly, that I may not lose a drop of the fat of this estimable bird.”
“You are qvite right,” said the Swiss; “koose-krease is koot vith bastry.”
“There!” said the dragoon. “Now for the wager. We are all attention, M. Athos.”
“Ah, now for the wager!” said the light-horseman.
“Well, Monsieur de Busigny, I will bet you,” said Athos, “that my three companions, MM. Porthos, Aramis, and D’Artagnan, and myself, will go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais, and will remain there an hour, by the watch, whatever the enemy may do to dislodge us.”
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other; they began to understand.
“Well, but,” said D’Artagnan, in Athos’s ear, “you are going to get us all killed without mercy.”
“We are much more likely to be killed,” said Athos, “if we do not go.”
“’Pon my word, gentlemen!” said Porthos, turning round upon his chair and twirling his moustache, “that’s a fine bet, I hope.”
“I take it,” said M. de Busigny. “Now let us fix the stake.”
“Why, you are four, gentlemen,” said Athos, “and we are four: a dinner for eight. Will that do?”
“Capitally,” replied M. de Busigny.
“Perfectly well,” said the dragoon.
“Dat suits me,” said the Swiss.
The fourth auditor, who during all this conversation had played a mute part, nodded to show that he acquiesced in the proposition.
“The breakfast for these gentlemen is ready,” said the landlord.
“Well, bring it in,” said Athos.
The landlord obeyed. Athos called Grimaud, pointed to a large basket standing in a corner, and made a sign to him to wrap the food up in the napkins.
And bowing to all the astonished spectators, the young men started off for the bastion St. Gervais, followed by Grimaud carrying the basket, ignorant of where he was going, but, in the passive obedience which Athos had taught him, not even thinking of asking.
As long as they were within the camp the four friends did not exchange a word; besides, they were followed by inquisitive loungers, who, hearing of the wager, were anxious to know how they would succeed. But when once they had passed the line of circumvallation, and found themselves in the open field, D’Artagnan, who was completely ignorant of what was going on, thought it was time to demand an explanation.
“And now, my dear Athos,” said he, “do me the kindness to tell me where we are going.”
“Why, you see plainly enough we are going to the bastion.”
“But what are we going to do there?”
“We have some very important things to talk over, and it was impossible to talk five minutes in that tavern without being annoyed by all those importunate fellows, who keep coming in, saluting you, and addressing you. Yonder, at least,” said Athos, pointing to the bastion, “they will not come and disturb us.”
“It seems to me,” said D’Artagnan, with that prudence which was so naturally allied with his extreme bravery—“it seems to me that we could have found some retired place on the downs or by the seashore.”
“Where we should have been seen all four conferring together, so that at the end of a quarter of an hour the cardinal would have been informed by his spies that we were holding a council.”
When they reached the bastion the four friends turned round.
More than three hundred soldiers of all kinds were assembled at the gate of the camp; and in a separate group they could distinguish M. de Busigny, the dragoon, the Swiss, and the fourth wagerer.
Athos took off his hat, put it on the end of his sword, and waved it in the air. All the spectators returned him his salute, accompanying this politeness with a loud hurrah, which they plainly heard. After which they all four disappeared in the bastion, where Grimaud had already preceded them.
Chapter 42 - The Council of the Musketeers
The bastion was occupied only by a dozen dead bodies, French and Rochellais.
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, who had assumed the command of the expedition, “while Grimaud is laying out the breakfast, let us begin by getting together the guns and cartridges; we can talk while performing that task. These gentlemen,” added he, pointing to the bodies, “will not hear us.”
“But still we might throw them into the ditch,” said Porthos, “after assuring ourselves they have nothing in their pockets.”
“Yes,” said Athos; “that’s Grimaud’s business.”
“Well, then,” cried D’Artagnan, “let Grimaud search them, and throw them over the walls.”
“By no means,” said Athos; “they may be useful to us.”
“These dead bodies useful to us?” exclaimed Porthos. “Why, you are crazy, my dear friend.”
“‘Judge not rashly,’ say the Gospels and the cardinal,” replied Athos. “How many guns, gentlemen?”
“Twelve,” replied Aramis.
“How many cartridges?”
“A hundred.”
“That’s quite as many as we shall want. Let us load the guns.”
The four musketeers went to work. As they were loading the last musket Grimaud signified that breakfast was ready.
Athos replied, still by gestures, that it was all right, and showed Grimaud a kind of pepper-box, making him understand that he was to stand as sentinel. Only, to alleviate the tedium of the duty, Athos allowed him to take a loaf, two cutlets, and a bottle of wine.
“And now, to table,” said Athos.
The four friends sat down on the ground, with their legs crossed, like Turks or tailors.
“But the secret?” said D’Artagnan.
“The secret is,” said Athos, “that I saw milady last night.”
D’Artagnan was lifting a glass to his lips, but at the mention of milady his hand shook so that he put the glass on the ground again, for fear of spilling the contents.
“You saw your wi—”
“Hush!” interrupted Athos; “you forget, my dear D’Artagnan, that these gentlemen have not been initiated, as you have, into the secrets of my family affairs. I saw milady.”
“And where?” demanded D’Artagnan.
“About two leagues from here, at the tavern of the Red Dovecot.” And Athos told D’Artagnan of the events that had taken place at the tavern.
“Do you know,” said Porthos, “that to twist that damned milady’s neck would be less of a sin than to twist the necks of these poor Huguenot devils, who have committed no other crimes than singing in French the Psalms that we sing in Latin?”
“What says the abbé?” asked Athos quietly.
“I say I am entirely of Porthos’s opinion,” replied Aramis.
“And I too,” said D’Artagnan.
“Fortunately, she is a good way off,” said Porthos, “for I confess she would make me very uncomfortable if she were here.”
“She makes me uncomfortable in England as well as in France,” said Athos.
“She makes me uncomfortable wherever she is,” said D’Artagnan.
“But when you had her in your power, why did you not drown, her, or strangle her, or hang her?” said Porthos. “It is only the dead who don’t come back again.”
“You think so, do you, Porthos?” replied the musketeer, with a sad smile, which D’Artagnan alone understood.
“I have an idea,” said D’Artagnan.
“What is it?” cried the musketeers.
“To arms!” shouted Grimaud.
The young men sprang up and seized their muskets.
A small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty to twenty-five men; they were soldiers of the garrison.
“Shall we return to the camp?” suggested Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are equal.”
“Impossible, for three reasons,” replied Athos. “The first is, that we have not finished breakfast; the second is, that we have still some very important things to talk about; and the third is, that it yet lacks ten minutes before the hour will be over.”
