“D’Artagnan, sire; he is the son of one of my oldest friends—the son of a man who served under your father of glorious memory in the civil war.”
“And you say that this young man behaved himself well? Tell me how, De Tréville, you know how I delight in accounts of war and fights.”
And Louis XIII twirled his moustache proudly and placed his hand upon his hip.
“Sire,” resumed Tréville, “as I told you, M. d’Artagnan is little more than a boy, and as he has not the honour of being a musketeer, he was dressed as a private citizen. The guards of the cardinal, perceiving his youth, and still more that he did not belong to the corps, urged him to retire before they made the attack.”
“So you may plainly see, Tréville,” interrupted the king, “it was they who attacked?”
“That is true, sire; there can be no more doubt on that head. They called upon him, then, to retire, but he answered that he was a musketeer at heart, entirely devoted to your Majesty, and that he would therefore remain with the musketeers.”
“Brave young man!” murmured the king.“Well, he did remain with them; and your Majesty has in him so firm a champion that it was he who gave Jussac the terrible sword-thrust which has made the cardinal so angry.”
“He who wounded Jussac!” cried the king—“he, a boy! Tréville, that’s impossible!”
“It is as I have the honour to relate it to your Majesty.”
“Jussac, one of the first swordsmen in the kingdom?”
“Well, sire, for once he found his master.”
“I should like to see this young man, Tréville—I should like to see him; and if anything can be done—well, we will make it our business to do it.”
“When will your Majesty deign to receive him?”
“To-morrow at midday, Tréville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“No, bring me all four together; I wish to thank them all at once. Devoted men are so rare, Tréville, we must recompense devotion.”
“At twelve o’clock, sire, we will be at the Louvre.”
“Ah! by the back staircase, Tréville, by the back staircase. It is useless to let the cardinal know.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You understand, Tréville; an edict is still an edict; it is forbidden to fight, after all.”
“But this encounter, sire, is quite out of the ordinary conditions of a duel. It is a brawl; and the proof is that there were five of the cardinal’s guards against my three musketeers and M. d’Artagnan.”
“That is true,” said the king; “but never mind, Tréville; come anyway by the back staircase.”
Tréville smiled. But as it was already something to have prevailed upon this child to rebel against his master, he saluted the king respectfully, and with this agreement took leave of him.
That evening the three musketeers were informed of the honour which was bestowed upon them. As they had long been acquainted with the king, they were not much excited by the circumstance; but D’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his future fortune, and passed the night in golden dreams.
M. de Tréville had ordered his three musketeers and their companion to be with him at half-past six in the morning. He took them with him, without assuring them or promising them anything.
When they had reached the foot of the back stairs he desired them to wait.
Ten minutes had scarcely passed away when the door of the king’s closet opened, and M. de Tréville saw the king advancing to the door.—“Ah! that’s you, Tréville. Where are your musketeers? I told you to bring them with you. Why have you not done so?”
“They are below, sire; and with your permission La Chesnaye will tell them to come up.”“Yes, yes, let them come up immediately. It is nearly eight o’clock, and at nine I expect a visit. Come in, Tréville.”
At that moment the three musketeers and D’Artagnan, led by La Chesnaye, the King’s valet appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Come in, my braves,” said the king, “come in; I have a scolding for you.”
“Therefore, sire, your Majesty sees that they are come quite contrite and repentant to offer you their excuses.”
“Quite contrite and repentant! Hem!” said the king, “I place no confidence in their hypocritical faces. In particular, there is one yonder with a Gascon face.—Come here, sir.”
D’Artagnan, who understood that it was to him this compliment was addressed, approached, assuming a most despondent air.
“Why, you told me he was a young man! This is a boy, Tréville, a mere boy! Do you mean to say that it was he who bestowed that severe thrust upon Jussac?”
“Without reckoning,” said Athos, “that if he had not rescued me from the hands of Cahusac, I should not now have the honour of making my very humble reverence to your Majesty.”
“Why, this Béarnais is a very devil! Ventre-saint-gris! Monsieur de Tréville, as the king my father would have said. But at this sort of work many doublets must be slashed and many swords broken. But Gascons are always poor, are they not?”
“Sire, I must say that they have not yet discovered any gold mines in their mountains; though the Lord owes them this miracle in recompense for the manner in which they supported the claims of the king, your father.”
“Which means that the Gascons made a king of me myself, seeing that I am my father’s son, does it not, Tréville? Well, in good faith, I don’t say nay to it.—La Chesnaye, go and see if, by rummaging all my pockets, you can find forty pistoles; and if you find them bring them to me.—And now let us see, young man, with your hand upon your conscience, how did all this come to pass?”
D’Artagnan related the adventure in all its details.
“This is all very well,” murmured the king. “But that’s quite enough, gentlemen; please to understand that’s enough. You have taken your revenge and you ought to be satisfied.”
“If your Majesty is,” said Tréville, “we are.”
“Oh yes, I am,” added the king, taking a handful of gold from La Chesnaye and putting it into the hand of D’Artagnan. “Here,” said he, “is a proof of my satisfaction.”
At this period the ideas of pride which are in fashion in our days did not prevail. A gentleman received money directly from the king’s hand, and was not in the least humiliated. D’Artagnan put his forty pistoles into his pocket without any scruple; on the contrary, he thanked his Majesty most heartily.“There,” said the king, looking at a clock—“there now, as it is half-past eight, you may retire; for, as I told you, I expect some one at nine. Thanks for your devotion, gentlemen. I may continue to rely upon it, may I not?”
“O sire!” cried the four companions with one voice, “we would allow ourselves to be cut to pieces in your Majesty’s service!”
“Well, well, but keep whole; that will be better, and you will be more useful to me. Tréville,” added the king in a low voice, as the others were retiring, “as you have no room in your musketeers, and as we have besides decided that a novitiate is necessary before entering that corps, place this young man in the company of guards commanded by your brother-in-law, M. des Essarts. Ah, zounds! I enjoy in advance the face the cardinal will make. He will be furious; but I don’t care. I am doing what is right.”
And the king waved his hand to Tréville, who left him and rejoined the musketeers, whom he found sharing the forty pistoles with D’Artagnan.
And the cardinal, as his Majesty had said, was really furious, so furious that for a whole week he absented himself from the king’s card-table, which did not prevent the king from being as complacent to him as possible, or, whenever he met him, from asking in the kindest tone,
“Well, cardinal, how fares it with that poor Jussac of yours?”
Chapter 7 - The Musketeers’ Establishments
When D’Artagnan had left the Louvre he was advised by Athos to order a good repast at the Pomme-de-Pin, by Porthos to engage a lackey, and by Aramis to provide himself with a suitable mistress.
The repast was carried into effect that very day, and the lackey waited at table. The repast had been ordered by Athos, and the lackey furnished by Porthos. This fellow was a Picard, whom the vain musketeer had picked up that very day and for this occasion on the bridge De la Tournelle while he was spitting in the water to make rings.
Athos, on his part, had a valet whom he had trained in his service in a very peculiar fashion, and who was named Grimaud. He was very taciturn, this worthy signor. Be it understood we are speaking of Athos. During the five or six years that he had lived in perfect intimacy with his companions Porthos and Aramis, they could remember having often seen him smile, but had never heard him laugh. His words were brief and expressive, conveying all that was meant, and no more—no embellishments, no embroidery, no arabesques. His conversation was matter of fact, without any ornamentation.
Although Athos was scarcely thirty years old, and possessed of great physical and mental beauty, no one knew that he had ever had a mistress. He never spoke of women. His reserve, his roughness, and his silence made almost an old man of him; he had then, in order not to interfere with his habits, accustomed Grimaud to obey him upon a simple gesture, or at the mere movement of his lips. He never spoke to him but upon the most extraordinary occasions.
Porthos’s character, as we have seen, was exactly opposite to that of Athos. He not only talked much, but he talked loudly, little caring, we must do him the justice to say, whether anybody listened to him or not. An old proverb says, “Like master, like man.” Let us pass then from the valet of Athos to the valet of Porthos, from Grimaud to Mousqueton.
Mousqueton was a Norman, whose pacific name of Boniface his master had changed into the infinitely more sonorous one of Mousqueton. He had entered Porthos’s service upon condition that he should only be clothed and lodged, but in a handsome manner; he claimed but two hours a day for himself to consecrate to an employment which would provide for his other wants. Porthos agreed to the bargain; this arrangement suited him wonderfully well.
As for Aramis, whose character we believe we have sufficiently explained—a character, moreover, which, like that of his companions, we shall be able to follow in its development—his lackey was called Bazin. Thanks to the hopes which his master entertained of some day entering into orders, he was always clothed in black, as became the servant of a churchman. He was a Berrichon of from thirty-five to forty years of age, mild, peaceable, sleek, employing the leisure his master left him in the perusal of pious works, providing for the two, to be sure, a frugal but excellent dinner. In addition, he was dumb, blind, and deaf, and of unimpeachable fidelity.
The life of the four young men had become common to each and all. D’Artagnan, who had no settled habits of his own, since he had just dropped from his province into the midst of a world quite new to him, assumed immediately the habits of his friends.
They rose about eight o’clock in the winter, about six in summer, and went to get the countersign and see how things were at M. de Tréville’s. D’Artagnan, although he was not a musketeer, performed the duty of one with touching punctuality. He was always mounting guard, because he always kept that one of his friends company who mounted his. He was well known at the h?tel of the musketeers, where every one considered him a good comrade. M. de Tréville, who had appreciated his worth at the first glance, and who bore him a real affection, never ceased recommending him to the king.On their side, the three musketeers were much attached to their young comrade. The friendship which united these four men, and the need they felt for meeting three or four times a day, whether for duels, business, or pleasure, caused them to be continually running after one another like shadows; and you constantly met the inseparables looking one for the other, from the Luxembourg to the Place Saint-Sulpice, or from the Rue du Vieux-Colombier to the Luxembourg.
In the meanwhile the promises of M. de Tréville were accomplishing. One fine morning the king commanded the Chevalier des Essarts to admit D’Artagnan as a cadet in his company of guards. D’Artagnan, with a sigh, donned this uniform, which he would have exchanged for that of a musketeer at the price of ten years of his existence. But M. de Tréville promised this favour after a novitiate of two years—a novitiate which might, besides, be abridged if an opportunity should present itself for D’Artagnan to render the king any signal service, or to distinguish himself by some brilliant action. Upon this promise D’Artagnan withdrew, and the next day began service.
Then it became the turn of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis to mount guard with D’Artagnan when he was on duty. By admitting D’Artagnan, the company of the Chevalier des Essarts thus received four men instead of one.
Chapter 8 - A Court Intrigue
Meanwhile the forty pistoles of King Louis XIII, like all other things in this world, after having had a beginning, had had an end, and after this end our four companions began to be somewhat embarrassed. At first Athos supported the association for a time with his own means. Porthos succeeded him, and thanks to one of those disappearances to which people were accustomed, he was able to provide for the wants of all for a fortnight more. At last it became Aramis’s turn, who performed it with a good grace, and who succeeded in procuring a few pistoles, as he said, by selling his theological books.
Then they, as usual, had recourse to M. de Tréville, who made some advances on their pay; but these advances could not go far with three musketeers who were already much in arrears, and a guardsman who as yet had no pay at all.
At length, when they found they were likely to be quite in want, they got together, by a final effort, eight or ten pistoles, with which Porthos went to the gaming-table. Unfortunately luck ran against him. He lost all, together with twenty-five pistoles for which he pledged his word.Then the embarrassment became distress. The hungry friends, followed by their lackeys, were seen haunting the quays and guard-rooms, picking up among their friends abroad all the dinners they could meet with; for, according to the advice of Aramis, it was prudent to sow repasts right and left in prosperity in order to reap a few in time of need.
D’Artagnan was racking his brain to find a direction with which, as with Archimedes’ lever, he had no doubt that they should succeed in moving the world, when some one tapped gently at his door.
A man was introduced, of rather simple mien, who had the appearance of a tradesman.
D’Artagnan dismissed Planchet, and requested his visitor to be seated.
“I have heard M. d’Artagnan spoken of as a very brave young man,” said the bourgeois; “and this reputation, which he justly enjoys, has determined me to confide a secret to him.”
“Speak, sir, speak,” said D’Artagnan, who instinctively scented something advantageous.
The bourgeois made a fresh pause, and continued,
“I have a wife who is seamstress to the queen, sir, and who is not deficient in either good conduct or beauty. I was induced to marry her about three years ago, although she had but very little dowry, because M. de la Porte, the queen’s cloak-bearer, is her godfather, and befriends her——”
