Les trois mousquetaires. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  13 MONSIEUR BONACIEUX

  There was in all this, as may have been observed, one personageconcerned, of whom, notwithstanding his precarious position, we haveappeared to take but very little notice. This personage was M.Bonacieux, the respectable martyr of the political and amorous intrigueswhich entangled themselves so nicely together at this gallant andchivalric period.

  Fortunately, the reader may remember, or may not remember--fortunatelywe have promised not to lose sight of him.

  The officers who arrested him conducted him straight to the Bastille,where he passed trembling before a party of soldiers who were loadingtheir muskets. Thence, introduced into a half-subterranean gallery, hebecame, on the part of those who had brought him, the object of thegrossest insults and the harshest treatment. The officers perceived thatthey had not to deal with a gentleman, and they treated him like a verypeasant.

  At the end of half an hour or thereabouts, a clerk came to put an end tohis tortures, but not to his anxiety, by giving the order to conduct M.Bonacieux to the Chamber of Examination. Ordinarily, prisoners wereinterrogated in their cells; but they did not do so with M. Bonacieux.

  Two guards attended the mercer who made him traverse a court and enter acorridor in which were three sentinels, opened a door and pushed himunceremoniously into a low room, where the only furniture was a table, achair, and a commissary. The commissary was seated in the chair, and waswriting at the table.

  The two guards led the prisoner toward the table, and upon a sign fromthe commissary drew back so far as to be unable to hear anything.

  The commissary, who had till this time held his head down over hispapers, looked up to see what sort of person he had to do with. Thiscommissary was a man of very repulsive mien, with a pointed nose, withyellow and salient cheek bones, with eyes small but keen andpenetrating, and an expression of countenance resembling at once thepolecat and the fox. His head, supported by a long and flexible neck,issued from his large black robe, balancing itself with a motion verymuch like that of the tortoise thrusting his head out of his shell. Hebegan by asking M. Bonacieux his name, age, condition, and abode.

  The accused replied that his name was Jacques Michel Bonacieux, that hewas fifty-one years old, a retired mercer, and lived Rue des Fossoyeurs,No. 14.

  The commissary then, instead of continuing to interrogate him, made hima long speech upon the danger there is for an obscure citizen to meddlewith public matters. He complicated this exordium by an exposition inwhich he painted the power and the deeds of the cardinal, thatincomparable minister, that conqueror of past ministers, that examplefor ministers to come--deeds and power which none could thwart withimpunity.

  After this second part of his discourse, fixing his hawk's eye upon poorBonacieux, he bade him reflect upon the gravity of his situation.

  The reflections of the mercer were already made; he cursed the instantwhen M. Laporte formed the idea of marrying him to his goddaughter, andparticularly the moment when that goddaughter had been received as Ladyof the Linen to her Majesty.

  At bottom the character of M. Bonacieux was one of profound selfishnessmixed with sordid avarice, the whole seasoned with extreme cowardice.The love with which his young wife had inspired him was a secondarysentiment, and was not strong enough to contend with the primitivefeelings we have just enumerated. Bonacieux indeed reflected on what hadjust been said to him.

  "But, Monsieur Commissary," said he, calmly, "believe that I know andappreciate, more than anybody, the merit of the incomparable eminence bywhom we have the honor to be governed."

  "Indeed?" asked the commissary, with an air of doubt. "If that is reallyso, how came you in the Bastille?"

  "How I came there, or rather why I am there," replied Bonacieux, "thatis entirely impossible for me to tell you, because I don't know myself;but to a certainty it is not for having, knowingly at least, disobligedMonsieur the Cardinal."

  "You must, nevertheless, have committed a crime, since you are here andare accused of high treason."

  "Of high treason!" cried Bonacieux, terrified; "of high treason! How isit possible for a poor mercer, who detests Huguenots and who abhorsSpaniards, to be accused of high treason? Consider, monsieur, the thingis absolutely impossible."

  "Monsieur Bonacieux," said the commissary, looking at the accused as ifhis little eyes had the faculty of reading to the very depths of hearts,"you have a wife?"

  "Yes, monsieur," replied the mercer, in a tremble, feeling that it wasat this point affairs were likely to become perplexing; "that is to say,I HAD one."

  "What, you 'had one'? What have you done with her, then, if you have herno longer?"

  "They have abducted her, monsieur."

  "They have abducted her? Ah!"

  Bonacieux inferred from this "Ah" that the affair grew more and moreintricate.

  "They have abducted her," added the commissary; "and do you know the manwho has committed this deed?"

  "I think I know him."

  "Who is he?"

  "Remember that I affirm nothing, Monsieur the Commissary, and that Ionly suspect."

  "Whom do you suspect? Come, answer freely."

  M Bonacieux was in the greatest perplexity possible. Had he better denyeverything or tell everything? By denying all, it might be suspectedthat he must know too much to avow; by confessing all he might prove hisgood will. He decided, then, to tell all.

  "I suspect," said he, "a tall, dark man, of lofty carriage, who has theair of a great lord. He has followed us several times, as I think, whenI have waited for my wife at the wicket of the Louvre to escort herhome."

  The commissary now appeared to experience a little uneasiness.

  "And his name?" said he.

  "Oh, as to his name, I know nothing about it; but if I were ever to meethim, I should recognize him in an instant, I will answer for it, were heamong a thousand persons."

  The face of the commissary grew still darker.

  "You should recognize him among a thousand, say you?" continued he.

  "That is to say," cried Bonacieux, who saw he had taken a false step,"that is to say--"

  "You have answered that you should recognize him," said the commissary."That is all very well, and enough for today; before we proceed further,someone must be informed that you know the ravisher of your wife."

  "But I have not told you that I know him!" cried Bonacieux, in despair."I told you, on the contrary--"

  "Take away the prisoner," said the commissary to the two guards.

  "Where must we place him?" demanded the chief.

  "In a dungeon."

  "Which?"

  "Good Lord! In the first one handy, provided it is safe," said thecommissary, with an indifference which penetrated poor Bonacieux withhorror.

  "Alas, alas!" said he to himself, "misfortune is over my head; my wifemust have committed some frightful crime. They believe me heraccomplice, and will punish me with her. She must have spoken; she musthave confessed everything--a woman is so weak! A dungeon! The first hecomes to! That's it! A night is soon passed; and tomorrow to the wheel,to the gallows! Oh, my God, my God, have pity on me!"

  Without listening the least in the world to the lamentations of M.Bonacieux--lamentations to which, besides, they must have been prettywell accustomed--the two guards took the prisoner each by an arm, andled him away, while the commissary wrote a letter in haste anddispatched it by an officer in waiting.

  Bonacieux could not close his eyes; not because his dungeon was so verydisagreeable, but because his uneasiness was so great. He sat all nighton his stool, starting at the least noise; and when the first rays ofthe sun penetrated into his chamber, the dawn itself appeared to him tohave taken funereal tints.

  All at once he heard his bolts drawn, and made a terrified bound. Hebelieved they were come to conduct him to the scaffold; so that when hesaw merely and simply, instead of the executioner he expected, only hiscommissary of the preceding evening, attended by his clerk, he was readyto embrace them both.

  "Yo
ur affair has become more complicated since yesterday evening, mygood man, and I advise you to tell the whole truth; for your repentancealone can remove the anger of the cardinal."

  "Why, I am ready to tell everything," cried Bonacieux, "at least, allthat I know. Interrogate me, I entreat you!"

  "Where is your wife, in the first place?"

  "Why, did not I tell you she had been stolen from me?"

  "Yes, but yesterday at five o'clock in the afternoon, thanks to you, sheescaped."

  "My wife escaped!" cried Bonacieux. "Oh, unfortunate creature! Monsieur,if she has escaped, it is not my fault, I swear."

  "What business had you, then, to go into the chamber of Monsieurd'Artagnan, your neighbor, with whom you had a long conference duringthe day?"

  "Ah, yes, Monsieur Commissary; yes, that is true, and I confess that Iwas in the wrong. I did go to Monsieur d'Artagnan's."

  "What was the aim of that visit?"

  "To beg him to assist me in finding my wife. I believed I had a right toendeavor to find her. I was deceived, as it appears, and I ask yourpardon."

  "And what did Monsieur d'Artagnan reply?"

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan promised me his assistance; but I soon found outthat he was betraying me."

  "You impose upon justice. Monsieur d'Artagnan made a compact with you;and in virtue of that compact put to flight the police who had arrestedyour wife, and has placed her beyond reach."

  "M. d'Artagnan has abducted my wife! Come now, what are you telling me?"

  "Fortunately, Monsieur d'Artagnan is in our hands, and you shall beconfronted with him."

  "By my faith, I ask no better," cried Bonacieux; "I shall not be sorryto see the face of an acquaintance."

  "Bring in the Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the commissary to the guards.The two guards led in Athos.

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the commissary, addressing Athos, "declareall that passed yesterday between you and Monsieur."

  "But," cried Bonacieux, "this is not Monsieur d'Artagnan whom you showme."

  "What! Not Monsieur d'Artagnan?" exclaimed the commissary.

  "Not the least in the world," replied Bonacieux.

  "What is this gentleman's name?" asked the commissary.

  "I cannot tell you; I don't know him."

  "How! You don't know him?"

  "No."

  "Did you never see him?"

  "Yes, I have seen him, but I don't know what he calls himself."

  "Your name?" replied the commissary.

  "Athos," replied the Musketeer.

  "But that is not a man's name; that is the name of a mountain," criedthe poor questioner, who began to lose his head.

  "That is my name," said Athos, quietly.

  "But you said that your name was d'Artagnan."

  "Who, I?"

  "Yes, you."

  "Somebody said to me, 'You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?' I answered, 'Youthink so?' My guards exclaimed that they were sure of it. I did not wishto contradict them; besides, I might be deceived."

  "Monsieur, you insult the majesty of justice."

  "Not at all," said Athos, calmly.

  "You are Monsieur d'Artagnan."

  "You see, monsieur, that you say it again."

  "But I tell you, Monsieur Commissary," cried Bonacieux, in his turn,"there is not the least doubt about the matter. Monsieur d'Artagnan ismy tenant, although he does not pay me my rent--and even better on thataccount ought I to know him. Monsieur d'Artagnan is a young man,scarcely nineteen or twenty, and this gentleman must be thirty at least.Monsieur d'Artagnan is in Monsieur Dessessart's Guards, and thisgentleman is in the company of Monsieur de Treville's Musketeers. Lookat his uniform, Monsieur Commissary, look at his uniform!"

  "That's true," murmured the commissary; "PARDIEU, that's true."

  At this moment the door was opened quickly, and a messenger, introducedby one of the gatekeepers of the Bastille, gave a letter to thecommissary.

  "Oh, unhappy woman!" cried the commissary.

  "How? What do you say? Of whom do you speak? It is not of my wife, Ihope!"

  "On the contrary, it is of her. Yours is a pretty business."

  "But," said the agitated mercer, "do me the pleasure, monsieur, to tellme how my own proper affair can become worse by anything my wife doeswhile I am in prison?"

  "Because that which she does is part of a plan concerted between you--ofan infernal plan."

  "I swear to you, Monsieur Commissary, that you are in the profoundesterror, that I know nothing in the world about what my wife had to do,that I am entirely a stranger to what she has done; and that if she hascommitted any follies, I renounce her, I abjure her, I curse her!"

  "Bah!" said Athos to the commissary, "if you have no more need of me,send me somewhere. Your Monsieur Bonacieux is very tiresome."

  The commissary designated by the same gesture Athos and Bonacieux, "Letthem be guarded more closely than ever."

  "And yet," said Athos, with his habitual calmness, "if it be Monsieurd'Artagnan who is concerned in this matter, I do not perceive how I cantake his place."

  "Do as I bade you," cried the commissary, "and preserve absolutesecrecy. You understand!"

  Athos shrugged his shoulders, and followed his guards silently, while M.Bonacieux uttered lamentations enough to break the heart of a tiger.

  They locked the mercer in the same dungeon where he had passed thenight, and left him to himself during the day. Bonacieux wept all day,like a true mercer, not being at all a military man, as he himselfinformed us. In the evening, about nine o'clock, at the moment he hadmade up his mind to go to bed, he heard steps in his corridor. Thesesteps drew near to his dungeon, the door was thrown open, and the guardsappeared.

  "Follow me," said an officer, who came up behind the guards.

  "Follow you!" cried Bonacieux, "follow you at this hour! Where, my God?"

  "Where we have orders to lead you."

  "But that is not an answer."

  "It is, nevertheless, the only one we can give."

  "Ah, my God, my God!" murmured the poor mercer, "now, indeed, I amlost!" And he followed the guards who came for him, mechanically andwithout resistance.

  He passed along the same corridor as before, crossed one court, then asecond side of a building; at length, at the gate of the entrance courthe found a carriage surrounded by four guards on horseback. They madehim enter this carriage, the officer placed himself by his side, thedoor was locked, and they were left in a rolling prison. The carriagewas put in motion as slowly as a funeral car. Through the closelyfastened windows the prisoner could perceive the houses and thepavement, that was all; but, true Parisian as he was, Bonacieux couldrecognize every street by the milestones, the signs, and the lamps. Atthe moment of arriving at St. Paul--the spot where such as werecondemned at the Bastille were executed--he was near fainting andcrossed himself twice. He thought the carriage was about to stop there.The carriage, however, passed on.

  Farther on, a still greater terror seized him on passing by the cemeteryof St. Jean, where state criminals were buried. One thing, however,reassured him; he remembered that before they were buried their headswere generally cut off, and he felt that his head was still on hisshoulders. But when he saw the carriage take the way to La Greve, whenhe perceived the pointed roof of the Hotel de Ville, and the carriagepassed under the arcade, he believed it was over with him. He wished toconfess to the officer, and upon his refusal, uttered such pitiablecries that the officer told him that if he continued to deafen him thus,he should put a gag in his mouth.

  This measure somewhat reassured Bonacieux. If they meant to execute himat La Greve, it could scarcely be worth while to gag him, as they hadnearly reached the place of execution. Indeed, the carriage crossed thefatal spot without stopping. There remained, then, no other place tofear but the Traitor's Cross; the carriage was taking the direct road toit.

  This time there was no longer any doubt; it was at the Traitor's Crossthat lesser criminals were executed. Bonacieux had flattered
himself inbelieving himself worthy of St. Paul or of the Place de Greve; it was atthe Traitor's Cross that his journey and his destiny were about to end!He could not yet see that dreadful cross, but he felt somehow as if itwere coming to meet him. When he was within twenty paces of it, he hearda noise of people and the carriage stopped. This was more than poorBonacieux could endure, depressed as he was by the successive emotionswhich he had experienced; he uttered a feeble groan which night havebeen taken for the last sigh of a dying man, and fainted.