Разделы библиотеки
The Three Musketeers - Александр Дюма - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
The Three Musketeers - Александр Дюма - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Дюма Александр
The Three Musketeers
| Предыдущая страница | Следующая страница |
8 The Court Intrigue
NEVERTHELESS, THE FORTY pistoles of Louis XIII., like everything else in this world, after having had a beginning, had also an end; and, after the end, our four companions fell into difficulties. Athos, at first, supported the association from his own private funds; to him succeeded Porthos, and, thanks to one of his occasional disappearances, he supplied the necessities of his friends for about fifteen days. Lastly, came the turn of Aramis, who performed his part with a good grace, on the strength of a few pistoles, procured, as he asserted, by the sale of some of his theological books. After all these resources were exhausted, they had recourse to M. de Treville, who made some advances of pay; but these could not go very far with our musketeers, who had had advances already; while the young guardsman had as yet no pay due. When they were at last almost destitute, they mustered, as a last resource, about eight or ten pistoles, which Porthos staked at play; but, being in ill-luck, he lost not only them, but twenty-five more, for which he gave his word of honour. Their difficulties thus became transformed to actual bankruptcy; and the four half-starved soldiers, followed by their lackeys, were seen running about the promenades and guard-rooms, picking up dinners wherever they could find them; for whilst in prosperity they had, by Aramis’s advice, sown repasts right and left, in order that they might reap some in the season of adversity. Athos received four invitations, and every time took his three friends and their lackeys with him; Porthos had six chances, of which, also, they all took advantage; but Aramis had eight, for he, as may be seen, was a man who made but little noise over a good deal of work. As for d’Artagnan, who scarcely knew any one in the capital, he only found a breakfast on chocolate at the house of a Gascon priest, and one dinner with a cornet of the guards. He took his little army with him to the priest—whose two months’ stock of provisions it mercilessly consumed—and to the cornet’s, who gave them quite a banquet; but, as Planchet observed, however much we may devour, it still makes only a single meal.
D’Artagnan, therefore, was somewhat humbled at returning only one meal and a half for the feasts which Athos, Porthos, and Aramis had procured him. He thought himself a burden to the clique; forgetting, in his youthful sincerity, that he had supported that clique throughout a whole month. It was, by this reflection that his ardent mind was set to work. He conceived that this coalition of four brave, enterprising, and active young men, ought to have some nobler aim than idle walks, fencing lessons, and more or less amusing jests. In fact, four such men as they—so devoted to each other, with their purses or their lives; so ready to support each other without surrendering an inch; executing, either singly or together, the common resolutions; menacing the four cardinal points at one time, or concentrating their united efforts on some single focus—ought inevitably, either secretly or openly, either by mine or trench, by stratagem or force, to find a way to what they had in view, however well defended or however distant that object might be. The only thing that surprised d’Artagnan was, that this capacity had never yet occurred to his companions. He himself now thought of it seriously, racking his brain to find a direction for his individual power four times multiplied, with which he felt assured that he might, as with the lever which Archimedes sought, succeed in moving the world.—But his meditations were disturbed by a gentle knock at the door.
D’Artagnan roused Planchet, and told him to see who was there. But from this phrase of rousing Planchet, it must not be supposed that it was night. No! it was four in the afternoon; but two hours had elapsed since Planchet, on coming to ask his master for some dinner, had been answered—
“He who sleeps, dines!”
And Planchet was having dinner on this economical fare.
A man of plain and simple appearance, who had a bourgeois air, was introduced.
Planchet would have liked, by way of dessert, to hear the conversation; but the man declared to d’Artagnan that what he had to say being urgent and confidential, he would wish to be alone with him. D’Artagnan therefore dismissed Planchet, and begged his visitor to be seated.
There was a momentary silence, during which the two men regarded one another inquisitively, after which d’Artagnan bowed as a signal of attention.
“I have heard M. d’Artagnan mentioned as a very brave young man,” said the citizen, “and this it is that has determined me to confide a secret to him.”
“Speak, sir, speak!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, who instinctively suspected something profitable.
The citizen paused; and then continued—“I have a wife, who is seamstress to the queen, and who is not without wit or beauty. I was induced to marry her, three years ago, though she had but a small dowry, because M. de la Porte, the queen’s cloak-bearer, is her godfather and patron.”
“Well, sir?” demanded d’Artagnan.
“Well, sir,” replied the citizen, “she was abducted yesterday morning, as she left her workroom.”
“And by whom has she been abducted?” inquired d’Artagnan.
“I do not know positively, sir,” said the other; “but I suspect a certain person.”
“And who is this person whom you suspect?”
“One who has for a long time pursued her.”
“The deuce he has!”
“But, allow me to tell you, sir, that there is less of love than of policy in all this.”
“Less of love than of policy!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, with an air of profound reflection; “and whom do you suspect?”
“I scarcely know whether I ought to mention names.”
“Sir,” said d’Artagnan, “permit me to observe, that I have absolutely demanded nothing from you; it is you who have come to me; it is you who told me that you had a secret to confide to me; do then as you please; there is yet time to draw back.”
“No, sir, you have the air of an honourable man, and I can trust you. I believe it is in consequence of no love affair of her own that my wife has been entrapped, but because of an amour of a lady of far more exalted station than her own!”
“Ah, ah! can it be on account of some amour of Madame de Bois Tracy?” asked d’Artagnan; who wished to appear familiar with Court circles.
“Higher, sir, higher!”
“Of Madame d’Aiguillon?”
“Higher yet!” said the citizen.
“Of Madame de Chevreuse?”
“Higher still!—much higher!”
“Of the———”
And here d’Artagnan paused.
“Yes!” answered the frightened citizen, in such a low voice as scarcely to be audible.
“And who is the other party?” said d’Artagnan.
“Who can it be, if not the Duke of———?” replied the mercer.
“With the Duke of———?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the citizen, in a still lower tone.
“But how do you know all this?”
“How do I know it?” said the mercer.
“Yes! How do you know it? You must tell me all or nothing, you understand,” said d’Artagnan.
“I know it from my wife, sir—from my wife herself.”
“And from whom does she know it?”
“From M. de la Porte. Did I not tell you that she is his god-daughter? Well! M. de la Porte, who is the confidential agent of the queen, had placed her near her majesty, that the poor thing—abandoned as she is by the king, watched as she is by the cardinal, and betrayed as she is by all—might at any rate have some one in whom she could confide.”
“Ah, ah! I begin to understand,” said d’Artagnan.
“Now, sir, my wife came home four days ago. One of the conditions of our marriage was, that she should come and see me twice a week; for, as I have the honour to inform you, she is my love as well as my wife. Well, sir, she came to inform me, in confidence, that the queen is at the present time in great alarm.”
“Really?” said d’Artagnan.
“Yes! the cardinal, as it appears, spies upon her and prosecutes her more than ever; he cannot pardon her the episode of the Sarabande—you know the story of the Sarabande, sir?”
“Egad! I should think I do!” replied d’Artagnan; who knew nothing at all about it, but would not for the world appear ignorant.
“So that it is no longer hatred now, but revenge!” said the citizen.
“Really!” replied d’Artagnan.
“And the queen believes———”
“Well! what does the queen believe?”
“She believes that they have forged a letter in her name to the Duke of Buckingham.”
“In her majesty’s name?”
“Yes, to entice him to Paris; and when they have got him here, to lead him into some snare.”
“The deuce! But your wife, my dear sir—what is her part in all this?”
“They know her devotion to the queen, and want to separate her from her mistress; and either to intimidate her into betraying her majesty’s secrets, or seduce her into serving as a spy upon her.”
“It seems probable!” said d’Artagnan; “but, do you know her abductor?”
“I have told you that I believe I know him!”
“His name?”
“I have not an idea what it is; all I know is that he is a creature of the cardinal—the minister’s tool.”
“But you know him by sight?”
“Yes; my wife pointed him out one day.”
“Has he any mark by which he may be recognised?”
“Yes, certainly; he is a man of aristocratic appearance, and has a dark skin, a tawny complexion, piercing eyes, white teeth, and a scar on his forehead.”
“A scar on his forehead!” cried d’Artagnan; “and with white teeth, piercing eyes, dark complexion, and proud air—it is my man of Meung!”
“Your man, do you say?”
“Yes, yes!” said d’Artagnan; “but that has nothing to do with this affair. Yet I mistake! It has, on the contrary, a great deal to do with it; for if your man is mine also, I shall at one blow perform two acts of revenge.—But where can I meet with him?”
“I have not the slightest idea.”
“Have you no clue to his abode?”
“None whatever. One day, when I accompanied my wife to the Louvre, he came out as she entered, and she pointed him out to me.”
“Plague on it!” murmured d’Artagnan; “this is all very vague. But how did you hear of the abduction of your wife?”
“From M. de la Porte.”
“Did he tell you the details?”
“He knew none.”
“You have got no information from other quarters?”
“Yes, I have received———”
“What?”
“But I know not whether I should inform you.”
“You return to your hesitation; but permit me to observe, that you have now advanced too far to recede.”
“I do not draw back,” exclaimed the citizen, accompanying the assurance with an oath, to support his courage; besides, on the honour of Bonancieux———”
“Then your name is Bonancieux?” interrupted d’Artagnan.
“Yes, that is my name.”
“You say, on the honour of Bonancieux! Pardon this interruption, but the name appears not to be unknown to me.”
“It is very possible, sir, for I am your landlord.”
“Ah, ah!” said d’Artagnan, half rising, “ah, you are my landlord?”
“Yes, sir, yes; and as for the three months that you have been in my house (diverted, no doubt, by your great and splendid occupations), you have forgotten to pay me my rent, and as, likewise, I have not once asked you for payment, I thought that you would have some regard on account of my delicacy in that respect.”
“Why, I have no alternative, my dear M. Bonancieux,” answered d’Artagnan, “believe me, I am grateful for such a proceeding, and shall, as I have said, be most happy if I can be of use in any way.”
“I believe you, I believe you,” interrupted the citizen; “and as I said, on the honour of Bonancieux, I have confidence in you.”
“Then go on with your account.”
The citizen drew a paper from his pocket, and gave it to d’Artagnan.
“A letter!” exclaimed the young man.
“Which I received this morning.”
D’Artagnan opened it, and, as the light commenced to wane, he approached the window, followed by Bonancieux.
“Do not seek for your wife,” read d’Artagnan: “she will be returned to you when she is no longer required. If you make a single attempt to discover her, you are lost!”
“Well, this is pretty positive!” continued d’Artagnan; “but, after all, it is only a threat.”
“Yes, but this threat frightens me, sir: I am not at all warlike, and I fear the Bastile.”
“Humph!” said d’Artagnan, “I do not like the Bastile any more than you do; if it was only a sword thrust, now, it would be of no consequence!”
“And yet I had depended much on your assistance.”
“Quite right!”
“Seeing you always surrounded by musketeers of haughty carriage, and perceiving that those musketeers belonged to M. de Treville, and, consequently, were the enemies of the cardinal, I thought that you and your friends, whilst gaining justice for our poor queen, would be enchanted at doing his eminence an ill turn.”
“Unquestionably!”
“And then I thought, that, owing me three months’ rent, which I never demanded———”
“Yes, yes, you have already mentioned that reason, and I consider it excellent.”
“Reckoning, moreover, that as long as you will do me the honour of remaining in my house, I should make no reference to rent———”
“Good, again!” said d’Artagnan.
“And, added to that, calculating upon offering you fifty pistoles, should you be at all distressed at this time, which I don’t say for a moment———”
“Wonderfully good! You are rich, then, my dear M. Bonancieux!”
“Say, rather, in easy circumstances, sir. I have amassed something like two or three thousand crowns a year in the linen-drapery line; and more particularly, by investing something in the last voyage of the celebrated navigator, Jean Mocquet; so that you understand, sir———Ah! but———”exclaimed the citizen.
“What?” demanded d’Artagnan.
“What do I see there?”
“Where?”
“In the street, opposite your windows; in the opening of that entry—a man wrapped in a cloak!”
“It is he!” cried d’Artagnan and the citizen in one breath; each having at the same moment recognised his man.
“Ah!” this time he shall not escape me!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, rushing out, sword in hand.
On the staircase he met Athos and Porthos, who were coming to see him. They stood apart, and he passed between them like a meteor.
“Ah, where are you running to?” cried the two musketeers.
“The man of Meung!” ejaculated d’Artagnan, as he disappeared.
D’Artagnan had more than once related to his friends his adventure with the stranger, and also the apparition of the fair traveller, to whom this man appeared to confide such an important missive. Athos was of opinion that d’Artagnan had lost the letter during the quarrel, since a gentleman, such as he had described the unknown to be, must have been incapable of theft: Porthos only saw in the affair an amorous appointment, which d’Artagnan and his yellow horse had disturbed; and Aramis had said, these kind of things being mysterious, had better not be searched into. From the few words which escaped d’Artagnan, they understood, therefore, what was his object; and concluding that he would return, after he had found his man, they proceeded to his apartment.
When they entered the room which d’Artagnan had just quitted, they found it empty; for the landlord, fearing the consequences of the meeting and duel which he doubted not was about to take place between the young man and the stranger, had judged it most prudent to decamp.
Получить полную версию книги можно по ссылке - Здесь
| Предыдущая страница | Следующая страница |
Поиск любовного романа
|
Партнеры