“Well, sir?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Well,” resumed the bourgeois—“well, sir, my wife was carried off yesterday morning, as she was coming out of her workroom.”
“And by whom was your wife carried off?”
“I do not know whether I ought to tell you what I suspect——”
“Sir, I beg you to observe that I ask you absolutely nothing. It is you who have come to me. It is you who have told me that you had a secret to confide to me. Act, then, as you think proper; there is still time to retreat.”
“No, sir, no; you appear to be an honest young man, and I will place confidence in you. I believe, then, that it is not on account of any intrigues of her own that my wife has been carried off, but that it has been done on account of the amours of a much greater lady than she is.”
“Ah, ah! can it be on account of the amours of Madame de Bois-Tracy?” said D’Artagnan, wishing to have the air, in the eyes of the bourgeois, of being up in court affairs.
“Higher, sir, higher.”
“Of Madame d’Aiguillon?”
“Higher still.”
“Of Madame de Chevreuse?”
“Higher, much higher.”
“Of the——” D’Artagnan stopped.
“Yes, sir,” replied the terrified bourgeois, in a tone so low that he was scarcely audible.
“And with whom?”
“With whom can it be, if not with the Duke of——”
“The Duke of——”
“Yes, sir,” replied the bourgeois, giving a still lower intonation to his voice.
“But how do you know all this?”
“How do I know it?”
“Yes, how do you know it? No half-confidence, or—you understand!”
“I know it from my wife, sir—from my wife herself.”
“And she knows it, she herself, from whom?”
“From M. de la Porte. Did I not tell you that she was the god-daughter of M. de la Porte, the queen’s confidential agent? Well, M. de la Porte placed her near her Majesty, in order that our poor queen might at least have some one in whom she could place confidence, abandoned as she is by the king, watched as she is by the cardinal, betrayed as she is by everybody.”
“Ah, ah! it begins to grow clear,” said D’Artagnan.
“And the queen believes——”
“Well, what does the queen believe?”
“She believes that some one has written to the Duke of Buckingham in her name.”
“In the queen’s name?”
“Yes, to make him come to Paris; and when once in Paris, to draw him into some snare.”
“The devil! But your wife, sir, what has she to do with all this?”
“Her devotion to the queen is known, and they wish either to remove her from her mistress, or to intimidate her, in order to obtain her Majesty’s secrets, or to seduce her and make use of her as a spy.”
“That is all very probable,” said D’Artagnan; “but the man who has carried her off—do you know him?”
“I have told you that I believe I know him.”
“His name?”
“I do not know that. What I do know is that he is a creature of the cardinal’s, his ready tool.”
“But you have seen him?”
“Yes, my wife pointed him out to me one day.”
“Has he anything remarkable about him by which he may be recognized?”
“Oh, certainly. He is a noble of lofty carriage, black hair, swarthy complexion, piercing eye, white teeth, and a scar on his temple.”
“A scar on his temple!” cried D’Artagnan; “and also white teeth, a piercing eye, dark complexion, black hair, and haughty carriage. Why, that’s my man of Meung.”
“He is your man, do you say?”
“Yes, yes; but that has nothing to do with it. No I am mistaken. It simplifies the matter greatly, on the contrary. If your man is mine, with one blow I shall obtain two revenges, that’s all. But where is this man to be met with?”
“I cannot inform you.”
“Have you no information respecting his dwelling?”
“None. One day, as I was conveying my wife back to the Louvre, he was coming out as she was going in, and she showed him to me.”
“The devil, the devil!” murmured D’Artagnan. “All this is vague enough. From whom did you learn the abduction of your wife?”
“From M. de la Porte.”
“Did he give you any of the particulars?”
“He knew none himself.”
“And you have learned none from any other quarter?”
“Yes, I have received——”
“What?”
“I fear I am committing a great imprudence.”
“You still keep harping upon that; but I beg leave to observe to you that this time it is too late to retreat.”
“I do not retreat, ’sdeath!” cried the bourgeois, swearing to keep his courage up. “Besides, by the word of Bonacieux——”
“Your name is Bonacieux?” interrupted D’Artagnan.
“Yes, that is my name.”
“You said, then, by the word of Bonacieux! Pardon me for interrupting you, but it appears to me that that name is familiar to me.”
“Very possibly, sir. I am your landlord.”
“Ah, ah!” said D’Artagnan, half rising and bowing; “you are my landlord?”
“Yes, sir, yes. And as it is three months since you came, and, engaged as you must be in your important occupations, you have forgotten to pay me my rent—as, I say, I have not tormented you a single instant, I thought you would appreciate my delicacy.”
“How can it be otherwise, my dear Bonacieux?” replied D’Artagnan. “Believe me, I am wholly grateful for such conduct; and if, as I have told you, I can be of any service to you——”
“And then I thought that owing me three months’ rent, which I have said nothing about——”
“Yes, yes; you have already given me that reason, and I find it excellent.”
“And, besides, considering that as long as you do me the honour to remain in my house I shall never speak to you about your future rent——”
“Very good!”
“And adding to this, if necessary, that I mean to offer you fifty pistoles, if, against all probability, you should be short at the present moment.”
“Admirable! But you are rich, then, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux?”
“I am comfortably off, sir, that’s all. I have scraped together something like an income of two or three thousand crowns in the haber-dashery business, and especially by investing some capital in the last voyage of the celebrated navigator Jean Mocquet; so that you understand, sir. But——” cried the bourgeois.
“What?” demanded D’Artagnan.
“Whom do I see yonder?”
“Where?”
“In the street, in front of your window, on the sill of that door—a man wrapped in a cloak.”
“It is he!” cried D’Artagnan and the bourgeois, each at the same time having recognized his man.
“Ah, this time,” cried D’Artagnan, leaping towards his sword—“this time he shall not escape me!”
Drawing his sword from the sheath, he rushed out of the apartment.
On the staircase he met Athos and Porthos, who were coming to see him. They separated, and D’Artagnan rushed between them like an arrow.
“Where the devil are you going?” cried the two musketeers in a breath.
“The man of Meung!” replied D’Artagnan, and disappeared.
D’Artagnan had more than once related to his friends his adventure with the unknown, as well as the apparition of the beautiful foreigner, to whom this man had confided some important letter.
They understood, then, from the few words which escaped from D’Artagnan, what affair was in hand; and as they thought that after having overtaken his man or lost sight of him D’Artagnan would return to his rooms again, they kept on their way.
When they entered D’Artagnan’s chamber it was empty. The landlord, dreading the consequences of the meeting which was doubtless about to take place between the young man and the unknown, had, consistently with the character he had given himself, judged it most prudent to decamp.
Chapter 9 - D’Artagnan’s Character Unfolds
As Athos and Porthos had foreseen, at the expiration of half an hour D’Artagnan returned. He had this time again missed his man, who had disappeared as if by enchantment. D’Artagnan had run, sword in hand, through all the neighbouring streets, but had found nobody resembling him whom he was looking for.While D’Artagnan was running through the streets and knocking at doors, Aramis had joined his companions, so that on returning home D’Artagnan found the reunion complete.
“Well?” cried the three musketeers all together, on seeing D’Artagnan enter with his brow covered with perspiration and his face clouded with anger.
“Well!” cried he, throwing his sword upon the bed; “this man must be the devil in person. He has disappeared like a phantom, like a shade, like a spectre.”
He then told his friends, word for word, all that had passed between him and his landlord, and how the man who had carried off the wife of his worthy landlord was the same with whom he had had a difference at the hostelry of the Franc-Meunier.
“And did the mercer,” rejoined Athos, “tell you, D’Artagnan, that the queen thought that Buckingham had been brought over by a forged letter?”
“She is afraid so.”
“Wait a minute, then,” said Aramis.
“What for?” demanded Porthos.
“Gentlemen,” cried Aramis, “listen to this.”
“Listen to Aramis,” said his three friends.
“Yesterday I was at the house of a learned doctor of theology whom I sometimes consult about my studies.”
Athos smiled.
“This doctor has a niece,” continued Aramis.
“A niece, has he?” interrupted Porthos.
“A very respectable lady,” said Aramis.
The three friends began to laugh.
“Ah, if you laugh, or doubt what I say,” replied Aramis, “you shall know nothing.”
“We are as staunch believers as Mohammedans, and as mute as catafalques,” said Athos.
“I will go on, then,” resumed Aramis. “This niece comes sometimes to see her uncle, and by chance was there yesterday at the same time that I was, and I could do no less than offer to conduct her to her carriage.”
“Oh, oh! Then this niece of the doctor’s keeps a carriage, does she?” interrupted Porthos, one of whose faults was a great looseness of speech. “A very nice acquaintance, my friend!”
“Porthos,” replied Aramis, “I have already had occasion to observe to you more than once that you are very indiscreet, and that this injures you with women.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” cried D’Artagnan, who began to get a glimpse of the result of the adventure, “the thing is serious. Endeavour, then, not to joke, if possible. Go on, Aramis, go on.”
“All at once a tall, dark man, with the manner of a gentleman—Come! the same style as yours, D’Artagnan.”
“The same, perhaps,” said he.
“Possibly,” continued Aramis—“came towards me, accompanied by five or six men, who followed at about ten paces behind him; and in the politest tone, ‘Duke,’ said he to me, ‘and you, madame,’ continued he, addressing the lady, who had hold of my arm—”
“The doctor’s niece?”
“Hold your tongue, Porthos,” said Athos; “you are insupportable.”
“ ‘Be so kind as to get into this carriage, and that without offering the slightest resistance or making the least noise.’ ”
“He took you for Buckingham!” cried D’Artagnan.
“I believe so,” replied Aramis.
“But the lady?” asked Porthos.
“He took her for the queen!” said D’Artagnan.
“Just so,” replied Aramis.
“The Gascon is the devil!” cried Athos; “nothing escapes him.”
“The fact is,” said Porthos, “Aramis is of the same height and something of the form of the handsome duke; but it nevertheless appears to me that the uniform of a musketeer—”
“I wore a very large cloak,” said Aramis.
“In the month of July, the devil!” said Porthos. “Is the doctor afraid you should be recognized?”
“I can understand that the spy may have been deceived by your figure; but your face—”
“I had a very large hat on,” said Aramis.
“Oh, good Lord!” cried Porthos, “how many precautions in order to study theology!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “do not let us lose our time in jesting. Let us separate, and let us seek the mercer’s wife; that is the key of the intrigue.”
“A woman of such inferior condition! Do you believe it, D’Artagnan?” said Porthos, protruding his lip contemptuously.
“She is goddaughter to La Porte, the confidential valet of the queen. Have I not told you so, gentlemen? Besides, it has perhaps been a scheme of her Majesty’s to have sought on this occasion for such lowly support. High heads can be seen from a distance; and the cardinal is far-sighted.”
“Well,” said Porthos, “in the first place, make a bargain with the mercer, and a good bargain, too.”
“That’s useless,” said D’Artagnan; “for I believe if he does not pay us, we shall be well enough paid by another party.”
At this moment a sudden noise of footsteps was heard upon the stairs, the door was thrown violently open, and the unfortunate mercer rushed into the chamber in which the council was being held.
“Save me, gentlemen, save me!” cried he. “There are four men come to arrest me! Save me! for the love of Heaven, save me!”
Porthos and Aramis arose.
“One moment,” cried D’Artagnan, making them a sign to replace their half-drawn swords—“one moment. On this occasion we don’t need courage; we need prudence.”
At this moment the four guards appeared at the door of the antechamber; but seeing the four musketeers standing with swords at their sides, they hesitated to advance farther.
“Come in, gentlemen, come in. You are here in my apartment, and we are all faithful servants of the king and the cardinal.”
“Then, gentlemen, you will not oppose our executing the orders we have received?” asked the one who appeared to be the leader of the party.
“On the contrary, gentlemen, we would assist you if it were necessary.”
“What is he saying?” grumbled Porthos.
“That you are a simpleton,” said Athos. “Hold your tongue.”
“But you promised me—” said the poor mercer, in a very low voice.
“We can save you only by being free ourselves,” replied D’Artagnan in a low and hurried tone; “and if we appear inclined to defend you, they will arrest us with you.”
“It seems to me, nevertheless—”
“Come in, gentlemen, come in!” called out D’Artagnan; “I have no motive for defending the gentleman. I saw him to-day for the first time, and he can tell you on what occasion. He came to demand the rent of my lodging.—Is that not true, M. Bonacieux? Answer.”
“That’s the very truth,” cried the mercer; “but the gentleman does not tell you—”
“Silence with respect to me; silence with respect to my friends; silence about the queen, above all, or you will ruin everybody without saving yourself.—Now, gentlemen, come, take away this man!”
And D’Artagnan pushed the half-stupefied mercer among the guards, saying to him,
“You are a shabby old fellow, my dear. You come to demand money of me—of a musketeer!—To prison with him. Gentlemen, once more, take him to prison, and keep him under key as long as possible; that will give me time to pay him.”
The officers were full of thanks, and took away their prey.
“Why, what devilish villainy have you done there,” said Porthos, when the head policeman had rejoined his companions, and the four friends were left alone. “Shame, shame, for four musketeers to allow an unfortunate devil who cried out for help to be arrested in their midst. And a gentleman to hobnob with a bailiff!”
