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Дюма Александр
The Three Musketeers
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6 His Majesty King Louis the Thirteenth
THE AFFAIR MADE a great noise. M. de Treville strongly censured his musketeers in public; but privately they heard only his congratulations. As, however, it was essential that no time should be lost in gaining the king, M. de Treville hastened to the Louvre. But he was too late; the king was closeted with the cardinal, and M. de Treville was informed that his majesty was engaged, and could not then see any one. In the evening, M. de Treville returned. The king was at play, and was winning; and his majesty, being very covetous, was in an excellent humour. Therefore, as soon as he saw M. de Treville, he exclaimed—
“Come here, my captain, that I may chide you. Are you aware that his eminence came to complain to me of your musketeers, and with so much emotion as to be indisposed? Well, really, these musketeers of yours are perfect devils—thorough hang-dogs!”
“No, sire,” replied M. de Treville, who at the first glance saw the turn the affair was likely to take. “No, on the contrary, they are good creatures, gentle as lambs, and who, I am confident, have only one wish, that their swords should never leave their scabbards except in time of war. But what are they to do? the guards of the cardinal are continually seeking opportunities of quarrelling with them; and, for the honour of the regiment, the poor young men are obliged to defend themselves.”
“Hark ye, M. de Treville,” said the king; “hark ye! Is this a religious fraternity—these men of yours—that you are speaking of? Truly, my dear captain, I am half inclined to deprive you of your command, and bestow it upon Mademoiselle de Chemerault, to whom I have promised an abbey. Do not suppose, however, that I give implicit credence to this simple story of yours. I am called Louis the Just, M. de Treville; and soon, very soon, we shall see———”
“And it is because I confide in that justice, sire, that I shall calmly and patiently await your majesty’s good pleasure.”
“Wait then, sir, wait then,” said the king, “and it will not be long.”
In fact, at that moment the chances of the game turned against the king, who began to lose what he had before gained. Therefore he was not sorry to find an excuse (to use an expression of the gaming table, of which we confess we know not the origin) for making Charlemagne. The king therefore rose, and putting into his pocket the money which was before him, and most of which he had won—
“La Vieuville,” said he, “take my place. I must talk with M. de Treville on an affair of importance. Ah! I had eighty louis before me: lay down the same sum, that those who have lost may not want their revenge. Justice above all things!”
Then turning towards M. de Treville, and walking with him towards a recess in one of the windows—
“Well, sir,” continued he, “you affirm that it is the guards of his eminence who seek quarrels with your musketeers?”
“Yes, sire; invariably.”
“Well, and how did this affair happen? Relate the facts; for you know, my dear captain, a judge must hear both parties.”
“Oh! by my faith, in the most simple and natural manner: three of my best soldiers, whom your majesty knows by name, and whose services you have often appreciated, and who, I can assure your majesty, are wholly devoted to your service—three of my best soldiers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, had made a party of pleasure with a young Gascon, a volunteer, whom I had introduced to them the same morning. The party was to be held at St. Germain’s, I believe; and the rendezvous was fixed at Carmes-Deschaux, when it was interrupted by de Jussac, Cahusac, Biscarrat, and two other musketeers of the cardinal who doubtless did not assemble there in such force without some intention in opposition to the edicts.”
“Ah! you give me ground for a conjecture,” said the king; “doubtless they came there to have an affair of honour.”
“I do not accuse them, sire, but I leave your majesty to judge what five armed men could be doing in a spot so retired as is the neighbourhood of the convent.’
“Very true, Treville; yes, you are right.”
“But, when they saw my musketeers, they changed their intentions, and forgot their individual and personal hatred, to indulge their enmity towards our corps; for your majesty well knows that the musketeers, who are wholly for the king, and nothing but the king, are the natural enemies of the guards, who are for the cardinal alone.”
“Yes, Treville,” said the king sorrowfully; “and it is a sad thing, believe me, thus to see two parties in France—two royal heads, as it were, under one crown. But this must be brought to an end. You say, then, that the guards sought a difference with the musketeers?”
“I say it is probable that this was the case, but I do not swear to it, sire. Your majesty well knows how difficult it is to discover the truth, unless, indeed, one were gifted with that admirable penetration which has caused Louis XIII. to be named the Just.”
“There again you are right, Treville. But your musketeers were not alone; there was a boy with them.”
“Yes, sire, and a wounded man; so that three of the king’s musketeers, of whom one was wounded, and this boy, not only made head against five of the most formidable of the cardinal’s guards, but even bore four of them to the earth.”
“Why, it is a complete victory!” exclaimed the king, radiant with joy—“a most complete victory!”
“Yes, sire, as complete as that of the bridge of Cé.”
“Four men—of whom one was wounded, and another a boy—do you say?”
“A stripling; but who behaved so nobly on this occasion, that I shall take the liberty of recommending him to your majesty.”
“What is his name?”
“D’Artagnan, sire; he is the son of one of my oldest friends—the son of a man who was engaged in the Partizan war on the side of the king your father, of glorious memory.”
“And you say this youth acquitted himself bravely? Tell me all about it, Treville, for you know how I love to hear of war and combats.”
And the king placed himself in an attentive posture, at the same time twirling his moustache in a military manner.
“Sire,” replied M. de Treville, “as I have already told you, M. d’Artagnan is almost a child; and as he has not the honour of being a musketeer, he was in plain clothes. The cardinal’s guards, perceiving his youth and also that he was a civilian, invited him to retire before they commenced their assault.”
“Thus we may clearly perceive, Treville,” interrupted the king, “that it was the guards who began the attack.”
“Most assuredly, sire, there cannot be a doubt on the subject. They therefore warned him to retire; but he replied that as he was at heart a musketeer, and wholly devoted to his majesty, he should remain with the musketeers.”
“Brave youth!” murmured the king.
“And he did remain with them; and in him your majesty has the resolute and valiant champion who gave Jussac that terrific sword thrust which has so much enraged the cardinal.”
“He who wounded Jussac?” exclaimed the king. “He—a boy! Treville, it is impossible!”
“It is as I have the honour to inform your majesty.”
“Jussac! one of the best duellists in the realm!”
“Yes, sire; but he has now found his master.”
“Treville, I must see this young man,” said Louis; “I must see him; and if I can do anything———However, we will think about that.”
“When will your majesty condescend to receive him?”
“Tomorrow, at twelve, Treville.”
“Shall I bring him alone?”
“No, bring the other three. I wish to thank them all at the same time. Men so brave are rare, Treville, and such devotion ought to be rewarded.”
“At twelve, sire, we will be at the Louvre.”
“By the private staircase, Treville—by the private staircase; it is unnecessary to let the cardinal know it.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You understand, Treville; an edict is always an edict; at all events, fighting is forbidden by the law.”
“But this combat,” said Treville, “is altogether different from the common duels: it was a sudden brawl; and the proof of it is, that there were five of the cardinal’s guards against three of the musketeers and M. d’Artagnan.”
“It is quite true,” said the king; “yet, nevertheless, Treville, come by the private staircase.”
Treville smiled; but conceiving that he had already secured an important advantage, by thus inducing the pupil to rebel against his master, he respectfully saluted the king, and, with his permission, made his retiral.
The same evening the three musketeers were apprised of the honour intended for them. As they had long known the king, they were not much enchanted by the news; but d’Artagnan, with his Gascon imagination, saw in it his future fortunes, and passed the night amid golden dreams. By eight in the morning he was with Athos, whom he found dressed, and ready to go out.
As they were not to see the king until twelve o’clock, and Athos had engaged to meet Porthos and Aramis at a tennis-court, near the Luxembourg stables, to play a match of tennis, he invited d’Artagnan to join them. Although ignorant of the game, which he had never played, d’Artagnan accepted the invitation, not knowing how otherwise to dispose of his time in the interval. Porthos and Aramis were already there, knocking the balls about. Athos, who was very skilful in all athletic games, went to one side with d’Artagnan, and challenged them. But at the first movement which he made, although he played with his left hand, he found that his wound was too fresh to permit such an exertion. D’Artagnan, therefore, remained alone; and as he declared that he was too unskilful to play a regular game, they only sent the balls about, without counting the points. One of these balls, however, driven by the Herculean hand of Porthos, passed so near d’Artagnan as to satisfy him that, had it hit him full in the face, instead of going on one side, his royal audience would have been lost, as, in all probability, he would thereby have been rendered unfit to be presented to the king. Now, since, in his Gascon imagination, all his fortune depended upon this audience, he politely saluted Porthos and Aramis, declaring that he would not renew the game until he was up to their standard, and then took his station near the ropes and the gallery.
Unfortunately for d’Artagnan, amongst the spectators there was one of the cardinal’s guards, who was irritated by the previous night’s defeat of his companions, and had resolved to take the first opportunity of avenging it. He now believed that this opportunity had arrived, and addressing a bystander—
“It is no wonder,” said he, “that this young man is afraid of the ball; he is, doubtless, a musketeer recruit.”
D’Artagnan turned as if bitten by a serpent, and looked fiercely at the guardsman who had uttered this insolent remark.
“I’faith,” continued the latter, proudly curling his moustache, “you may look at me as much as you please, my little gentleman. What I have said, I mean.”
“And since what you have said explains itself,” replied d’Artagnan, in a low voice, “I will thank you to follow me.”
“Ah! indeed! and when, pray?” said the guardsman, with the same air of mockery.
“Immediately, if you please.”.
“Doubtless you know who I am?”
“I have not the slightest idea; and, what is more, I do not care.”
“And yet you are wrong; for if you knew my name, perhaps you would be less courageous.”
“Indeed! and pray what is your name?” said d’Artagnan.
“Bernajoux, at your service.”
“Well, M. Bernajoux,” replied d’Artagnan with the utmost tranquillity, “I shall await you at the gate.”
“Proceed, sir; I will follow you.”
“But do not be in too great haste, sir,” said d’Artagnan, “lest it should be perceived that we go out together; for, considering how we are about to be engaged, you must be aware that too many witnesses might prove inconvenient.”
“There is some sense in that,” replied the guardsman, much surprised that his name had not produced a greater effect on the young man.
The name of Bernajoux was indeed known to every one, except d’Artagnan; for he was one of those who constantly figured in the daily brawls which all the edicts of the king and the cardinal could not suppress.
Porthos and Aramis were so much occupied by their game, and Athos was watching them so attentively, that they did not even perceive the departure of their young companion, who, as he had promised, waited a moment at the door for his opponent. In fact, d’Artagnan had no time to lose, considering the expected audience, which was fixed for twelve o’clock. He therefore cast his eyes around, and seeing that there was no one in the street—
“Faith, sir,” said he to his adversary, “although your name is Bernajoux, it is very fortunate for you that you have to deal with a musketeer recruit only. However, be content: I will do my best. On your guard, sir!”
“But,” said he whom d’Artagnan thus addressed, “it appears to me this place is badly chosen, and that we should be better behind the abbey of St. Germain, or in the Pré-aux-Clercs.”
“True enough,” replied d’Artagnan, “but, unfortunately, my time is precious, as I have an important engagement precisely at twelve; therefore draw, sir, draw!”
Bernajoux was not the man to wait the repetition of such a compliment. In an instant, therefore, his sword glittered in his hand, and he rushed upon his adversary, whom, on account of his extreme youth, he hoped to intimidate.
But d’Artagnan had served his apprenticeship the evening before, and now fresh, and elated with his victory, as well as inflamed with hopes of future favour, he was fully resolved not to recede an inch. The two swords were therefore engaged, even to the guard; and as d’Artagnan kept his ground firmly, his adversary was obliged to retreat a single step. By this movement Bernajoux’s sword deviated from “opposition,” and d’Artagnan, seizing the opportunity, made a lunge which wounded his adversary in the shoulder. He immediately stepped back one pace, and raised his sword; but Bernajoux, declaring that it was nothing, made a blind thrust at d’Artagnan, and impaled himself upon his sword. Nevertheless, as Bernajoux neither fell, nor declared himself vanquished, but merely retreated towards the hotel of M. de la Tremouille, in whose service he had a relative, d’Artagnan, ignorant of the severity of his adversary’s wound, pressed him closely, and doubtless would have despatched him by a third thrust, had not the clash of the rapiers reached the tennis-court, from which now rushed, sword in hand, two of the guardsman’s friends (who had heard him exchange words with d’Artagnan), and fell upon the conqueror. But Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, now also joined the fray; and at the moment when the two guardsmen attacked their young comrade, forced them to turn. At that instant Bernajoux fell; and as the guards were then only two against four, they began to cry out—“To our aid! hotel de la Tremouille!” At this cry, all the inmates of the hotel rushed out, and fell upon the four friends; who, on their side, exclaimed “Help, musketeers!”
The latter cry was very common; for it was known that the musketeers hated the cardinal, and they were beloved for the very hatred they bore towards his eminence. Hence, in those quarrels, the guards of all the other regiments, excepting those actually belonging to the Red Duke, as Aramis had designated the cardinal, generally sided with the king’s musketeers. Of three guardsmen, who were passing, of the company of M. des Essarts, two came to the assistance of the four friends, whilst the third ran to the hotel of M. de Treville, crying, “Help! musketeers, help!” As usual, M. de Treville’s hotel was full of soldiers, who ran to the assistance of their comrades, and the battle became general. But the superiority of force was with the musketeers; and the cardinal’s guards, with M. de la Tremouille’s people, retired into the hotel, the doors of which they secured in time to exclude their opponents. As for the wounded man, he had been carried away at first, and, as we have said, in very bad plight.
Excitement amongst the musketeers and their allies was at its height, and they deliberated whether they should not set fire to the hotel, to punish the insolence of M. de la Tremouille’s retainers, who had presumed to charge the king’s musketeers. The proposition had been made and received with enthusiasm, when fortunately it struck eleven o’clock; and d’Artagnan and his companions, remembering their audience, and not wishing a feat so daring to be performed without their aid, succeeded in quelling the commotion; they therefore contented themselves with throwing some stones at the door, and then left the place. Besides, those whom they regarded as their leaders had just left them to proceed towards the hotel of M. de Treville, who, already aware of this fresh insult, awaited their arrival.
“Quick, to the Louvre!” said he; “to the Louvre, without losing one moment; and let us endeavour to see the king before the cardinal prejudices him. We will narrate the affair as a consequence of that of yesterday, and the two will be disposed of together.”
M. de Treville, accompanied by the four young men, hastened towards the Louvre; but, to the great surprise of the captain of the musketeers, he was informed that the king had gone to the chase in the forest of St. Germain. M. de Treville caused this intelligence to be twice repeated, and each time his companions observed his countenance become darker.
“Had his majesty formed the intention of hunting, yesterday?” demanded he.
“No, your excellency,” replied the valet. “The master of the hounds came this morning to announce that he had roused a stag; at first the king said he would not go, but subsequently he could not resist the pleasure which the chase promised him, and he set out after dinner.”
“And has the king seen the cardinal?” demanded M. de Treville.
“In all probability,” replied the valet, “for this morning I saw the horses harnessed to the cardinal’s carriage; I inquired where it was going, and was told to St. Germain.”
“We are anticipated,” said M. de Treville. “I shall see the king this evening; but, as for you, I would not counsel you at present to attempt it.”
The advice was too reasonable; especially as that of a man who knew the king too well, to be opposed by the young men. M. de Treville therefore requested them to return to their respective homes, and await his orders.
On reaching his hotel, it occurred to M. de Treville that it would be prudent to be in advance with his complaint. He therefore despatched a letter to M. de la Tremouille, requesting him to dismiss from his house the cardinal’s guards; and, further, to reprimand his own people for charging the musketeers. M. de la Tremouille, however, being already prejudiced by his equerry, whose relative Bernajoux was, replied that neither M. de Treville nor his musketeers had a right to complain, but, on the contrary, he himself; the musketeers having not only attacked and wounded his people, but also threatened to burn his mansion. Now, as a dispute between two such great men might last a long time, each being likely to adhere obstinately to his opinion, M. de Treville thought of an expedient to bring it to a close; and this was to go himself to M. de la Tremouille. He therefore repaired to his hotel, and caused himself to be announced.
The two noblemen saluted each other politely, for, although they were not friends, they yet esteemed each other. They were both brave and honourable men; and as M. de la Tremouille was a protestant, and therefore rarely saw the king, he intrigued on no side, and had contracted few prejudices in his social relations. On the present occasion, however, his reception of his visitor, though polite, was colder than usual.
“Sir,” said M. de Treville, “we each believe that we have cause of complaint against the other, and I am now here to see if we cannot together clear up the matter.”
“Most willingly,” replied M. de la Tremouille, “but I tell you beforehand that I have full information, and am satisfied all the blame rests with your musketeers.”
“You are too just a man, sir, and too reasonable,” observed M. de Treville, “not to accept the proposition I shall now make to you.”
“Proceed, sir; I will hear it.”
“How is M. Bernajoux, the relative of your equerry?”
“Why, sir,” replied Tremouille, “he is very ill indeed. Besides the wound which he received in the arm, and which is not dangerous, he has also received another, which has passed through his lungs; so that the physician gives but a poor account of him.”
“But does the wounded man retain his senses?” inquired Treville.
“Perfectly.”
“Can he speak?”
“With difficulty; but still he can speak.”
“Well, then, sir, let us interview him. Let us adjure him in the name of that God before whom, perhaps, he is about to appear, to tell the truth. I will acknowledge him as the judge, even in his own cause; and I will abide by his explanation.”
M. de la Tremouille reflected for a moment, and as it would have been difficult to conceive a more reasonable proposition, he agreed to it.
They therefore proceeded together to the chamber of the wounded man, who, when he saw them enter his apartment, endeavoured to raise himself in bed; but being too feeble, and, exhausted by the effort, he fell back, almost insensible.
M. de la Tremouille approached his bed, and by the application of some smelling-salts, restored him to consciousness. Then, in order to avoid any future imputation of having influenced the guardsman, M. de la Tremouille invited M. de Treville to question him himself.
The result was as M. de Treville had foreseen. Lingering as he was between life and death, Bernajoux had not the slightest idea of concealing the truth, and therefore gave a true narration of the occurrence. This was all that M. de Treville required; so wishing Bernajoux a speedy recovery, he took leave of M. de la Tremouille; and having regained his own hotel, he immediately summoned the four friends to dine with him.
M. de Treville received the best company; but, of course, all were anti-cardinalists. It may be readily imagined, therefore, that the conversation turned upon the two defeats which the cardinal’s guards had sustained; and as d’Artagnan had been the hero of the last two days, he received all the congratulations; which Athos, Porthos, and Aramis yielded to him with pleasure, not only as true comrades, but as men who had had their turn too often not to let him have his.
About six o’clock, M. de Treville announced his intention of proceeding to the Louvre; but, as the original hour of audience was past, instead of obtaining admission by the private staircase, he placed himself in the antechamber, with the four young men. The king was not yet returned from the chase; but our friends had scarcely waited half an hour amongst the crowd of courtiers, before the doors were opened, and his majesty was announced.
This announcement caused d’Artagnan to shudder with emotion. The important moment was arrived upon which, in all probability, his future fate depended. His eyes, therefore, were fixed with intense anxiety on the door through which the king was about to enter.
Louis XIII. appeared, followed by his attendants. He was attired in his hunting-dress, still covered with dust; he was heavily booted; and in his hand he held his riding-whip. At the first glance, d’Artagnan perceived that the king was in a violent rage. This humour, though distinctly visible in his majesty’s features, did not prevent the courtiers from ranging themselves along the sides of the room; and as, in the royal antechamber, it is better to be seen by an irritable and angry eye, than not to be seen at all, the three musketeers did not hesitate to step forward, although d’Artagnan, on his part, concealed himself behind them as much as possible. Yet though Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were personally known to the king, he passed on as if he had never seen them before, without either looking at or addressing them. But when his eyes rested for a moment upon M. de Treville, the latter met them with so much firmness, that the king turned aside his gaze, and, muttering to himself, entered his apartment.
“The aspects are unfavourable,” said Athos smiling; “we shall not be knighted this time.”
“Wait here ten minutes,” said M. de Treville, “and if I do not return to you in that time, proceed to my hotel as it will be useless for you to wait longer for me.”
The young men waited ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, even twenty minutes; and then, finding that M. de Treville did not return, they departed, very uneasy with the turn things were taking.
M. de Treville, who had boldly entered the royal cabinet, found his majesty in a very bad humour; he was seated in an arm-chair, venting his irritation by striking his boots with the handle of his whip. This, however, M. de Treville did not appear to notice, but with the utmost composure he inquired after his majesty’s health.
“Bad, very bad,” replied the king. “I am dull and dispirited.”
This was, in fact, the worst malady of Louis XIII., who often withdrew to a window with one of his courtiers, saying to him, “Come, sir, let us be bored together.”
“I regret to find your majesty thus,” said M. de Treville. “Have you not, then, enjoyed the pleasure of the chase?”
“A fine pleasure, truly! By my faith, all goes to ruin, and I know not whether it is the game that is no longer so swift a-foot, or the dogs that have no noses. We roused a stag of ten tines; we ran him for six hours; and when we were on the point of taking him, and just as Saint Simon was about to place his horn to his mouth, to sound the ‘mort’—crac, all the pack went off on the wrong scent, in pursuit of a brocket. You will thus see that I must now renounce the chase with hounds, as I have already relinquished it with falcons. Ah! I am a most unhappy king, M. de Treville; I had only one ger-falcon remaining, and he died yesterday.”
“Truly, sire, I can estimate your misfortune; it is, indeed, very great; but there are yet, I believe, a goodly number of falcons, hawks, and tercels, remaining.”
“But who is to train them? The falconers are all gone; and I alone now preserve the true art of venery. With me, all will be lost, and the game will hereafter be taken by snares, pitfalls, and traps. Oh! had I only leisure to instruct scholars! But then there is the cardinal, who never leaves me any leisure, and who is ever talking to me of Spain, of Austria, and of England! But apropos of the cardinal, I am very angry with you, M. de Treville.”
The latter had anticipated this turn of the conversation. From his long and intimate knowledge of the king, he was well aware that complaints of this nature were only a sort of prelude, as it were, to arouse his majesty’s courage to the proper pitch, which he had on this occasion attained.
“In what have I had the misfortune to offend your majesty?” inquired M. de Treville, feigning the utmost astonishment.
“Is it thus that you discharge your office, sir?” continued the king, answering one question by another; “was it for this that I created you captain of my musketeers—that they should assassinate a man, excite a whole neighbourhood, and threaten to burn all Paris, without your saying a word to me on the subject? However,” added the king, “without doubt you have come here to accuse yourself, and, having committed all the rioters to safe custody, inform me that justice has been satisfied.”
“Sire,” said M. de Treville, with the utmost composure, “I am, on the contrary, come to demand justice.”
“And against whom?” exclaimed the king.
“Against calumniators!” replied M. de Treville.
“Ah! this is something quite new,” rejoined the king. “Do you pretend to say that your three confounded musketeers, and your Bearnese recruit, did not rush like madmen on poor Bernajoux, and so ill-treat him, that he is probably now dying? Do you also pretend to say, that they did not lay siege to the hotel of the Duke de la Tremouille, and that they did not propose to burn it—which, during a period of war, would have been of little consequence, seeing it is merely a nest of Huguenots, but which, nevertheless, in time of peace, is a bad example. Say, are you about to deny these matters?”
“And who has related to your majesty all this fine story?” quietly demanded M. de Treville.
“Who has related to me this fine story, sir? Who should it be, pray, but he who watches whilst I sleep; who labours whilst I amuse myself; who manages everything within and without the realm; in Europe, as well as in France?”
“Your majesty no doubt means God,” said M. de Treville, “for I know no other being who can be so far above your majesty.”
“No, sir; I speak of the pillar of the state; of my only servant—of my only friend—of the cardinal.”
“His eminence is not his holiness, sir!”
“What do you mean by that, sir?”
“That it is only the pope who is infallible; the infallibility which he possesses does not extend to cardinals.”
“You would say, then,” said the king, “that he deceives me; you would say that he betrays me?”
“No, sire,” said M. de Treville, “but I say that he deceives himself; I say, that he has been deceived; I say, that he has hastily accused his majesty’s musketeers, towards whom he is unjust; and that he has not drawn his information from authentic sources.”
“The accusation comes from M. de la Tremouille—from the duke himself. What say you to that?” asked the king.
“I might say that he is too deeply interested in the question, to be an impartial witness; but, far from doing that, sire, I, knowing the duke for a loyal gentleman, willingly refer to him, but on one condition.”
“What is that?” said the king.
“It is that your majesty will send for him; will question him, but by yourself, face to face, without witnesses; and that I may see your majesty as soon as you have parted from the duke.”
“Ay, marry, indeed!” said the king; “and you will be judged by what the duke may say?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You will accept his judgment?”
“Without hesitation!” replied Treville.
“And you will submit to the reparations he may require?”
“Entirely!”
“La Chesnaye!” exclaimed the king, “La Chesnaye, let some one go immediately to inquire for M. de la Tremouille. I wish to speak with him this evening.”
“Your majesty gives me your word that you will not speak with any one between M. de la Tremouille and myself?” asked Treville.
“With no one, on the word of a gentleman!” replied the king.
“Tomorrow, then, sire?”
“Tomorrow, sir.”
“At what hour will it please your majesty?”
“At any hour you desire!”
“But in coming too early in the morning, I fear I may wake your majesty!”
“Wake me! Do I sleep? I never sleep now, sir! I may dream sometimes; nothing more. So come as early as you like, at seven o’clock if you choose; but I will not spare you, if your musketeers are in fault!”
“If my musketeers are guilty, sire, the guilty shall be delivered up to your majesty to await your pleasure. Does your majesty require anything else? You have but to speak and you shall be obeyed!”
“No, sir, no! It is not without reason that I have been named Louis the Just. Farewell, then, till tomorrow, sir! Farewell!”
“May God preserve your majesty till then!”
However little the king might sleep, M. de Treville slept even less. He had told the three musketeers and their comrade, to be with him at half-past six in the morning; and he took them with him without telling them anything, or making them any promise; confessing to them that their favour, as well as his own, was not worth more than the chances of a cast of dice.
He left them at the foot of the staircase. If the king remained angry with them, they were to go away unnoticed; but, if his majesty consented to receive them, they would be ready at a call.
On entering the king’s antechamber, M. de Treville found Chesnaye there, who informed him that M. de la Tremouille could not be found the evening before, and returned too late to be presented at the Louvre; that he had, in fact, but just arrived, and was now with the king.
This circumstance much pleased M. de Treville, who was certain that nothing could come between M. de la Tremouille’s deposition, and his own audience. Scarcely, indeed, had ten minutes elapsed before the door of the king’s cabinet opened, and de Treville saw M. de la Tremouille come out. The duke immediately said to him,
“M. de Treville, his majesty sent for me; to inquire into the affair that happened yesterday morning at my hotel. I have told him the truth, that the fault lay with my people, and that I was ready to make you my excuses. As I have met you, will you now receive them, and do me the favour always to consider me as one of your friends!”
“Sir,” said M. de Treville, “I was so convinced of your loyalty, that I did not wish for any other defender with his majesty than yourself. I see that I did not deceive myself; and I thank you that there is still one man in France, of whom I may say what I have said of you, without danger, deception, or mistake.”
“It is well! it is well!” said the king, who had heard all these compliments. “Only tell him, Treville, since he wishes for your friendship, that I also wish for his, but that he neglects me; that it is just three years since I have seen him; and that he only comes to a levee when invited. Tell him this for me; for those are the kind of things which a king cannot say for himself!”
“Thanks, sire! thanks!” exclaimed the duke. “But let me assure your majesty that it is not those whom you see every day (I do not refer to M. de Treville) who are the most devoted to you.”
“Ah! you heard what I said! So much the better, duke! so much the better!” said the king, advancing to the door. “Ah! it is you, Treville! where are your musketeers? I commanded you the day before yesterday to bring them! Why are they not here?”
“They are below, sire, and with your permission, Chesnaye will call them up.”
“Yes, yes! let them come directly; it will soon be eight o’clock, and at nine I have an appointment. Go, duke! and, above all things, forget not to return. Come in, Treville!”
The Duke bowed and departed. The moment that he opened the door, the three musketeers and d’Artagnan conducted by Chesnaye, appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Come, my brave fellows!” said the king, “I must scold you!”
The musketeers approached, with obeisances, d’Artagnan following behind.
“What! the devil!” continued the king, “seven of his eminence’s guards regularly doubled up by you four in two days! It is too many, gentlemen; it is too many: at this rate, his eminence will have to renew his regiment in three weeks, and I shall have to enforce the edicts in their full rigour. I say nothing of one by chance; but seven in two days, I repeat it, are too many, a great deal too many!”
“But your majesty perceives that they have come in sorrow and repentance, to excuse themselves.”
“In sorrow and repentance! hum!” said the king. “I do not put much trust in their hypocritical faces. There is, above all, a Gascon face in the background there! Come here, you, sir!”
D’Artagnan, who comprehended that the compliment was addressed to him, approached his majesty with a desperately desponding look.
“What! you told me it was a young man! But this is a mere boy, M. de Treville, quite a boy. Did he give that terrible wound to Jussac?”
“Yes! And those two beautiful sword thrusts to Bernajoux,” said M. de Treville.
“Really!”
“Without reckoning,” said Athos, “that if he had not rescued me from the hands of Biscarrat, I should certainly not have had the honour of paying my very humble reverence to your majesty.”
“Why, M. de Treville, this Bearnese must be the very devil. Ventre saint-gris, as the king, my sire, would have said, at this rate many doublets must be riddled, and lots of swords broken. Now, the Gascons are always poor, are they not?”
“Sire, I must say that they have found no mines of gold in their mountains, though the Almighty owed them that recompense for the manner in which they supported the cause of your father.”
“Which is to say, is it not, Treville, that it was the Gascons who made me king, as I am my father’s son? Well, let it be so; I will not contradict it. La Chesnaye, go and see if, by rummaging my pockets, you can find forty pistoles; and if you find them, bring them to me.
And now let me hear, young man, with your hand on your heart, how this affair happened?”
D’Artagnan told all the circumstances of the adventure; how, not being able to sleep, from the expectation of seeing his majesty, he went to his friend’s house three hours before the time of the audience; how they went together to the tennis-court! and how, on account of the fear he betrayed of being struck upon his face by the ball, he had been rallied by Bernajoux, who had narrowly escaped paying for his raillery with his life; and M. de Tremouille, who was innocent, with the loss of his hotel.
“It is exactly so,” murmured the king; “yes, it is exactly as the duke recounted the affair. Poor cardinal! Seven men in two days, and seven of his most valued soldiers, too! But this is sufficient, gentlemen; do you understand? You have taken your revenge for the Rue Ferou, and more than enough. You ought now to be satisfied.”
“So we are, if your majesty is,” said Treville.
“Yes! I am,” replied the king; and taking a handful of gold from the hand of Chesnaye, and putting it into d’Artagnan’s, he added, “there is a proof of my satisfaction.”
At this period, the independent notions which are now current were not yet in fashion. A gentleman received money from the king’s hand, without being humiliated. D’Artagnan, therefore, put the forty pistoles into his pocket, without any other ceremony than that of warmly thanking his majesty for the gift.
“There,” said the king, examining his watch, “now that it is half-past eight, retire. I have told you that I have an appointment at nine. Thanks for your devotion, gentlemen! I may rely upon it, may I not?”
“Oh! sire!” replied the four at once, “we will allow ourselves to be cut in pieces in your defence!”
“Well! well! But it will be much better to remain whole, and you will be far more useful to me in that state. Treville,” added the king, in a low voice, as the others retired, “as you have no commission vacant in the musketeers, and as we have decided that it should be necessary to pass a certain probation before entering that corps, place this young man in your brother-in-law, M. des Essarts’, company of guards. Ah! I quite enjoy the thought of the grimace that the cardinal will make: he will be furious; but I do not care, I am quite right this time.”
The king bowed to Treville, and the latter joined his musketeers, whom he found sharing the forty pistoles which his majesty had given d’Artagnan.
The cardinal was in reality as furious as his master had anticipated—so furious, in fact, that for eight days he took no hand at the king’s card-table. But this did not prevent the king from putting on the most charming face, and asking, every time he met him, in a most insinuating tone—
“Well! M. le Cardinal! how is your poor Bernajoux? and your poor Jussac?”
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