29 HUNTING FOR THE EQUIPMENTS
The most preoccupied of the four friends was certainly d'Artagnan,although he, in his quality of Guardsman, would be much more easilyequipped than Messieurs the Musketeers, who were all of high rank; butour Gascon cadet was, as may have been observed, of a provident andalmost avaricious character, and with that (explain the contradiction)so vain as almost to rival Porthos. To this preoccupation of his vanity,d'Artagnan at this moment joined an uneasiness much less selfish.Notwithstanding all his inquiries respecting Mme. Bonacieux, he couldobtain no intelligence of her. M. de Treville had spoken of her to thequeen. The queen was ignorant where the mercer's young wife was, but hadpromised to have her sought for; but this promise was very vague and didnot at all reassure d'Artagnan.
Athos did not leave his chamber; he made up his mind not to take asingle step to equip himself.
"We have still fifteen days before us," said he to his friends, "well,if at the end of a fortnight I have found nothing, or rather if nothinghas come to find me, as I, too good a Catholic to kill myself with apistol bullet, I will seek a good quarrel with four of his Eminence'sGuards or with eight Englishmen, and I will fight until one of them haskilled me, which, considering the number, cannot fail to happen. It willthen be said of me that I died for the king; so that I shall haveperformed my duty without the expense of an outfit."
Porthos continued to walk about with his hands behind him, tossing hishead and repeating, "I shall follow up on my idea."
Aramis, anxious and negligently dressed, said nothing.
It may be seen by these disastrous details that desolation reigned inthe community.
The lackeys on their part, like the coursers of Hippolytus, shared thesadness of their masters. Mousqueton collected a store of crusts; Bazin,who had always been inclined to devotion, never quit the churches;Planchet watched the flight of flies; and Grimaud, whom the generaldistress could not induce to break the silence imposed by his master,heaved sighs enough to soften the stones.
The three friends--for, as we have said, Athos had sworn not to stir afoot to equip himself--went out early in the morning, and returned lateat night. They wandered about the streets, looking at the pavement as ifto see whether the passengers had not left a purse behind them. Theymight have been supposed to be following tracks, so observant were theywherever they went. When they met they looked desolately at one another,as much as to say, "Have you found anything?"
However, as Porthos had first found an idea, and had thought of itearnestly afterward, he was the first to act. He was a man of execution,this worthy Porthos. D'Artagnan perceived him one day walking toward thechurch of St. Leu, and followed him instinctively. He entered, afterhaving twisted his mustache and elongated his imperial, which alwaysannounced on his part the most triumphant resolutions. As d'Artagnantook some precautions to conceal himself, Porthos believed he had notbeen seen. D'Artagnan entered behind him. Porthos went and leanedagainst the side of a pillar. D'Artagnan, still unperceived, supportedhimself against the other side.
There happened to be a sermon, which made the church very full ofpeople. Porthos took advantage of this circumstance to ogle the women.Thanks to the cares of Mousqueton, the exterior was far from announcingthe distress of the interior. His hat was a little napless, his featherwas a little faded, his gold lace was a little tarnished, his laces werea trifle frayed; but in the obscurity of the church these things werenot seen, and Porthos was still the handsome Porthos.
D'Artagnan observed, on the bench nearest to the pillar against whichPorthos leaned, a sort of ripe beauty, rather yellow and rather dry, buterect and haughty under her black hood. The eyes of Porthos werefurtively cast upon this lady, and then roved about at large over thenave.
On her side the lady, who from time to time blushed, darted with therapidity of lightning a glance toward the inconstant Porthos; and thenimmediately the eyes of Porthos wandered anxiously. It was plain thatthis mode of proceeding piqued the lady in the black hood, for she bither lips till they bled, scratched the end of her nose, and could notsit still in her seat.
Porthos, seeing this, retwisted his mustache, elongated his imperial asecond time, and began to make signals to a beautiful lady who was nearthe choir, and who not only was a beautiful lady, but still further, nodoubt, a great lady--for she had behind her a Negro boy who had broughtthe cushion on which she knelt, and a female servant who held theemblazoned bag in which was placed the book from which she read theMass.
The lady with the black hood followed through all their wanderings thelooks of Porthos, and perceived that they rested upon the lady with thevelvet cushion, the little Negro, and the maid-servant.
During this time Porthos played close. It was almost imperceptiblemotions of his eyes, fingers placed upon the lips, little assassinatingsmiles, which really did assassinate the disdained beauty.
Then she cried, "Ahem!" under cover of the MEA CULPA, striking herbreast so vigorously that everybody, even the lady with the red cushion,turned round toward her. Porthos paid no attention. Nevertheless, heunderstood it all, but was deaf.
The lady with the red cushion produced a great effect--for she was veryhandsome--upon the lady with the black hood, who saw in her a rivalreally to be dreaded; a great effect upon Porthos, who thought her muchprettier than the lady with the black hood; a great effect upond'Artagnan, who recognized in her the lady of Meung, of Calais, and ofDover, whom his persecutor, the man with the scar, had saluted by thename of Milady.
D'Artagnan, without losing sight of the lady of the red cushion,continued to watch the proceedings of Porthos, which amused him greatly.He guessed that the lady of the black hood was the procurator's wife ofthe Rue aux Ours, which was the more probable from the church of St. Leubeing not far from that locality.
He guessed, likewise, by induction, that Porthos was taking his revengefor the defeat of Chantilly, when the procurator's wife had proved sorefractory with respect to her purse.
Amid all this, d'Artagnan remarked also that not one countenanceresponded to the gallantries of Porthos. There were only chimeras andillusions; but for real love, for true jealousy, is there any realityexcept illusions and chimeras?
The sermon over, the procurator's wife advanced toward the holy font.Porthos went before her, and instead of a finger, dipped his whole handin. The procurator's wife smiled, thinking that it was for her Porthoshad put himself to this trouble; but she was cruelly and promptlyundeceived. When she was only about three steps from him, he turned hishead round, fixing his eyes steadfastly upon the lady with the redcushion, who had risen and was approaching, followed by her black boyand her woman.
When the lady of the red cushion came close to Porthos, Porthos drew hisdripping hand from the font. The fair worshipper touched the great handof Porthos with her delicate fingers, smiled, made the sign of thecross, and left the church.
This was too much for the procurator's wife; she doubted not there wasan intrigue between this lady and Porthos. If she had been a great ladyshe would have fainted; but as she was only a procurator's wife, shecontented herself saying to the Musketeer with concentrated fury, "Eh,Monsieur Porthos, you don't offer me any holy water?"
Porthos, at the sound of that voice, started like a man awakened from asleep of a hundred years.
"Ma-madame!" cried he; "is that you? How is your husband, our dearMonsieur Coquenard? Is he still as stingy as ever? Where can my eyeshave been not to have seen you during the two hours of the sermon?"
"I was within two paces of you, monsieur," replied the procurator'swife; "but you did not perceive me because you had no eyes but for thepretty lady to whom you just now gave the holy water."
Porthos pretended to be confused. "Ah," said he, "you have remarked--"
"I must have been blind not to have seen."
"Yes," said Porthos, "that is a duchess of my acquaintance whom I havegreat trouble to meet on account of the jealousy of her husband, and whosent me word that she should come today to this poor church, buried
inthis vile quarter, solely for the sake of seeing me."
"Monsieur Porthos," said the procurator's wife, "will you have thekindness to offer me your arm for five minutes? I have something to sayto you."
"Certainly, madame," said Porthos, winking to himself, as a gambler doeswho laughs at the dupe he is about to pluck.
At that moment d'Artagnan passed in pursuit of Milady; he cast a passingglance at Porthos, and beheld this triumphant look.
"Eh, eh!" said he, reasoning to himself according to the strangely easymorality of that gallant period, "there is one who will be equipped ingood time!"
Porthos, yielding to the pressure of the arm of the procurator's wife,as a bark yields to the rudder, arrived at the cloister St. Magloire--alittle-frequented passage, enclosed with a turnstile at each end. In thedaytime nobody was seen there but mendicants devouring their crusts, andchildren at play.
"Ah, Monsieur Porthos," cried the procurator's wife, when she wasassured that no one who was a stranger to the population of the localitycould either see or hear her, "ah, Monsieur Porthos, you are a greatconqueror, as it appears!"
"I, madame?" said Porthos, drawing himself up proudly; "how so?"
"The signs just now, and the holy water! But that must be a princess, atleast--that lady with her Negro boy and her maid!"
"My God! Madame, you are deceived," said Porthos; "she is simply aduchess."
"And that running footman who waited at the door, and that carriage witha coachman in grand livery who sat waiting on his seat?"
Porthos had seen neither the footman nor the carriage, but with the eyeof a jealous woman, Mme. Coquenard had seen everything.
Porthos regretted that he had not at once made the lady of the redcushion a princess.
"Ah, you are quite the pet of the ladies, Monsieur Porthos!" resumed theprocurator's wife, with a sigh.
"Well," responded Porthos, "you may imagine, with the physique withwhich nature has endowed me, I am not in want of good luck."
"Good Lord, how quickly men forget!" cried the procurator's wife,raising her eyes toward heaven.
"Less quickly than the women, it seems to me," replied Porthos; "for I,madame, I may say I was your victim, when wounded, dying, I wasabandoned by the surgeons. I, the offspring of a noble family, whoplaced reliance upon your friendship--I was near dying of my wounds atfirst, and of hunger afterward, in a beggarly inn at Chantilly, withoutyou ever deigning once to reply to the burning letters I addressed toyou."
"But, Monsieur Porthos," murmured the procurator's wife, who began tofeel that, to judge by the conduct of the great ladies of the time, shewas wrong.
"I, who had sacrificed for you the Baronne de--"
"I know it well."
"The Comtesse de--"
"Monsieur Porthos, be generous!"
"You are right, madame, and I will not finish."
"But it was my husband who would not hear of lending."
"Madame Coquenard," said Porthos, "remember the first letter you wroteme, and which I preserve engraved in my memory."
The procurator's wife uttered a groan.
"Besides," said she, "the sum you required me to borrow was ratherlarge."
"Madame Coquenard, I gave you the preference. I had but to write to theDuchesse--but I won't repeat her name, for I am incapable ofcompromising a woman; but this I know, that I had but to write to herand she would have sent me fifteen hundred."
The procurator's wife shed a tear.
"Monsieur Porthos," said she, "I can assure you that you have severelypunished me; and if in the time to come you should find yourself in asimilar situation, you have but to apply to me."
"Fie, madame, fie!" said Porthos, as if disgusted. "Let us not talkabout money, if you please; it is humiliating."
"Then you no longer love me!" said the procurator's wife, slowly andsadly.
Porthos maintained a majestic silence.
"And that is the only reply you make? Alas, I understand."
"Think of the offense you have committed toward me, madame! It remainsHERE!" said Porthos, placing his hand on his heart, and pressing itstrongly.
"I will repair it, indeed I will, my dear Porthos."
"Besides, what did I ask of you?" resumed Porthos, with a movement ofthe shoulders full of good fellowship. "A loan, nothing more! After all,I am not an unreasonable man. I know you are not rich, Madame Coquenard,and that your husband is obliged to bleed his poor clients to squeeze afew paltry crowns from them. Oh! If you were a duchess, a marchioness,or a countess, it would be quite a different thing; it would beunpardonable."
The procurator's wife was piqued.
"Please to know, Monsieur Porthos," said she, "that my strongbox, thestrongbox of a procurator's wife though it may be, is better filled thanthose of your affected minxes."
"That doubles the offense," said Porthos, disengaging his arm from thatof the procurator's wife; "for if you are rich, Madame Coquenard, thenthere is no excuse for your refusal."
"When I said rich," replied the procurator's wife, who saw that she hadgone too far, "you must not take the word literally. I am not preciselyrich, though I am pretty well off."
"Hold, madame," said Porthos, "let us say no more upon the subject, Ibeg of you. You have misunderstood me, all sympathy is extinct betweenus."
"Ingrate that you are!"
"Ah! I advise you to complain!" said Porthos.
"Begone, then, to your beautiful duchess; I will detain you no longer."
"And she is not to be despised, in my opinion."
"Now, Monsieur Porthos, once more, and this is the last! Do you love mestill?"
"Ah, madame," said Porthos, in the most melancholy tone he could assume,"when we are about to enter upon a campaign--a campaign, in which mypresentiments tell me I shall be killed--"
"Oh, don't talk of such things!" cried the procurator's wife, burstinginto tears.
"Something whispers me so," continued Porthos, becoming more and moremelancholy.
"Rather say that you have a new love."
"Not so; I speak frankly to you. No object affects me; and I even feelhere, at the bottom of my heart, something which speaks for you. But infifteen days, as you know, or as you do not know, this fatal campaign isto open. I shall be fearfully preoccupied with my outfit. Then I mustmake a journey to see my family, in the lower part of Brittany, toobtain the sum necessary for my departure."
Porthos observed a last struggle between love and avarice.
"And as," continued he, "the duchess whom you saw at the church hasestates near to those of my family, we mean to make the journeytogether. Journeys, you know, appear much shorter when we travel two incompany."
"Have you no friends in Paris, then, Monsieur Porthos?" said theprocurator's wife.
"I thought I had," said Porthos, resuming his melancholy air; "but Ihave been taught my mistake."
"You have some!" cried the procurator's wife, in a transport thatsurprised even herself. "Come to our house tomorrow. You are the son ofmy aunt, consequently my cousin; you come from Noyon, in Picardy; youhave several lawsuits and no attorney. Can you recollect all that?"
"Perfectly, madame."
"Come at dinnertime."
"Very well."
"And be upon your guard before my husband, who is rather shrewd,notwithstanding his seventy-six years."
"Seventy-six years! PESTE! That's a fine age!" replied Porthos.
"A great age, you mean, Monsieur Porthos. Yes, the poor man may beexpected to leave me a widow, any hour," continued she, throwing asignificant glance at Porthos. "Fortunately, by our marriage contract,the survivor takes everything."
"All?"
"Yes, all."
"You are a woman of precaution, I see, my dear Madame Coquenard," saidPorthos, squeezing the hand of the procurator's wife tenderly.
"We are then reconciled, dear Monsieur Porthos?" said she, simpering.
"For life," replied Porthos, in the same manner.
"Till we meet again, then
, dear traitor!"
"Till we meet again, my forgetful charmer!"
"Tomorrow, my angel!"
"Tomorrow, flame of my life!"
Les trois mousquetaires. English Page 30