Les trois mousquetaires. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  51 OFFICER

  Meanwhile, the cardinal looked anxiously for news from England; but nonews arrived that was not annoying and threatening.

  Although La Rochelle was invested, however certain success mightappear--thanks to the precautions taken, and above all to the dyke,which prevented the entrance of any vessel into the besieged city--theblockade might last a long time yet. This was a great affront to theking's army, and a great inconvenience to the cardinal, who had nolonger, it is true, to embroil Louis XIII with Anne of Austria--for thataffair was over--but he had to adjust matters for M. de Bassompierre,who was embroiled with the Duc d'Angouleme.

  As to Monsieur, who had begun the siege, he left to the cardinal thetask of finishing it.

  The city, notwithstanding the incredible perseverance of its mayor, hadattempted a sort of mutiny for a surrender; the mayor had hanged themutineers. This execution quieted the ill-disposed, who resolved toallow themselves to die of hunger--this death always appearing to themmore slow and less sure than strangulation.

  On their side, from time to time, the besiegers took the messengerswhich the Rochellais sent to Buckingham, or the spies which Buckinghamsent to the Rochellais. In one case or the other, the trial was soonover. The cardinal pronounced the single word, "Hanged!" The king wasinvited to come and see the hanging. He came languidly, placing himselfin a good situation to see all the details. This amused him sometimes alittle, and made him endure the siege with patience; but it did notprevent his getting very tired, or from talking at every moment ofreturning to Paris--so that if the messengers and the spies had failed,his Eminence, notwithstanding all his inventiveness, would have foundhimself much embarrassed.

  Nevertheless, time passed on, and the Rochellais did not surrender. Thelast spy that was taken was the bearer of a letter. This letter toldBuckingham that the city was at an extremity; but instead of adding, "Ifyour succor does not arrive within fifteen days, we will surrender," itadded, quite simply, "If your succor comes not within fifteen days, weshall all be dead with hunger when it comes."

  The Rochellais, then, had no hope but in Buckingham. Buckingham wastheir Messiah. It was evident that if they one day learned positivelythat they must not count on Buckingham, their courage would fail withtheir hope.

  The cardinal looked, then, with great impatience for the news fromEngland which would announce to him that Buckingham would not come.

  The question of carrying the city by assault, though often debated inthe council of the king, had been always rejected. In the first place,La Rochelle appeared impregnable. Then the cardinal, whatever he said,very well knew that the horror of bloodshed in this encounter, in whichFrenchman would combat against Frenchman, was a retrograde movement ofsixty years impressed upon his policy; and the cardinal was at thatperiod what we now call a man of progress. In fact, the sack of LaRochelle, and the assassination of three of four thousand Huguenots whoallowed themselves to be killed, would resemble too closely, in 1628,the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572; and then, above all this, thisextreme measure, which was not at all repugnant to the king, goodCatholic as he was, always fell before this argument of the besieginggenerals--La Rochelle is impregnable except to famine.

  The cardinal could not drive from his mind the fear he entertained ofhis terrible emissary--for he comprehended the strange qualities of thiswoman, sometimes a serpent, sometimes a lion. Had she betrayed him? Wasshe dead? He knew her well enough in all cases to know that, whetheracting for or against him, as a friend or an enemy, she would not remainmotionless without great impediments; but whence did these impedimentsarise? That was what he could not know.

  And yet he reckoned, and with reason, on Milady. He had divined in thepast of this woman terrible things which his red mantle alone couldcover; and he felt, from one cause or another, that this woman was hisown, as she could look to no other but himself for a support superior tothe danger which threatened her.

  He resolved, then, to carry on the war alone, and to look for no successforeign to himself, but as we look for a fortunate chance. He continuedto press the raising of the famous dyke which was to starve La Rochelle.Meanwhile, he cast his eyes over that unfortunate city, which containedso much deep misery and so many heroic virtues, and recalling the sayingof Louis XI, his political predecessor, as he himself was thepredecessor of Robespierre, he repeated this maxim of Tristan's gossip:"Divide in order to reign."

  Henry IV, when besieging Paris, had loaves and provisions thrown overthe walls. The cardinal had little notes thrown over in which herepresented to the Rochellais how unjust, selfish, and barbarous was theconduct of their leaders. These leaders had corn in abundance, and wouldnot let them partake of it; they adopted as a maxim--for they, too, hadmaxims--that it was of very little consequence that women, children, andold men should die, so long as the men who were to defend the wallsremained strong and healthy. Up to that time, whether from devotednessor from want of power to act against it, this maxim, without beinggenerally adopted, nevertheless passed from theory into practice; butthe notes did it injury. The notes reminded the men that the children,women, and old men whom they allowed to die were their sons, theirwives, and their fathers, and that it would be more just for everyone tobe reduced to the common misery, in order that equal conditions shouldgive birth to unanimous resolutions.

  These notes had all the effect that he who wrote them could expect, inthat they induced a great number of the inhabitants to open privatenegotiations with the royal army.

  But at the moment when the cardinal saw his means already bearing fruit,and applauded himself for having put it in action, an inhabitant of LaRochelle who had contrived to pass the royal lines--God knows how, suchwas the watchfulness of Bassompierre, Schomberg, and the Ducd'Angouleme, themselves watched over by the cardinal--an inhabitant ofLa Rochelle, we say, entered the city, coming from Portsmouth, andsaying that he had seen a magnificent fleet ready to sail within eightdays. Still further, Buckingham announced to the mayor that at lengththe great league was about to declare itself against France, and thatthe kingdom would be at once invaded by the English, Imperial, andSpanish armies. This letter was read publicly in all parts of the city.Copies were put up at the corners of the streets; and even they who hadbegun to open negotiations interrupted them, being resolved to await thesuccor so pompously announced.

  This unexpected circumstance brought back Richelieu's former anxiety,and forced him in spite of himself once more to turn his eyes to theother side of the sea.

  During this time, exempt from the anxiety of its only and true chief,the royal army led a joyous life, neither provisions nor money beingwanting in the camp. All the corps rivaled one another in audacity andgaiety. To take spies and hang them, to make hazardous expeditions uponthe dyke or the sea, to imagine wild plans, and to execute themcoolly--such were the pastimes which made the army find these days shortwhich were not only so long to the Rochellais, a prey to famine andanxiety, but even to the cardinal, who blockaded them so closely.

  Sometimes when the cardinal, always on horseback, like the lowestGENDARME of the army, cast a pensive glance over those works, so slowlykeeping pace with his wishes, which the engineers, brought from all thecorners of France, were executing under his orders, if he met aMusketeer of the company of Treville, he drew near and looked at him ina peculiar manner, and not recognizing in him one of our fourcompanions, he turned his penetrating look and profound thoughts inanother direction.

  One day when oppressed with a mortal weariness of mind, without hope inthe negotiations with the city, without news from England, the cardinalwent out, without any other aim than to be out of doors, and accompaniedonly by Cahusac and La Houdiniere, strolled along the beach. Minglingthe immensity of his dreams with the immensity of the ocean, he came,his horse going at a foot's pace, to a hill from the top of which heperceived behind a hedge, reclining on the sand and catching in itspassage one of those rays of the sun so rare at this period of the year,seven men surrounded by empty bottles. Four of these men w
ere ourMusketeers, preparing to listen to a letter one of them had justreceived. This letter was so important that it made them forsake theircards and their dice on the drumhead.

  The other three were occupied in opening an enormous flagon of Collicurewine; these were the lackeys of these gentlemen.

  The cardinal was, as we have said, in very low spirits; and nothing whenhe was in that state of mind increased his depression so much as gaietyin others. Besides, he had another strange fancy, which was always tobelieve that the causes of his sadness created the gaiety of others.Making a sign to La Houdiniere and Cahusac to stop, he alighted from hishorse, and went toward these suspected merry companions, hoping, bymeans of the sand which deadened the sound of his steps and of the hedgewhich concealed his approach, to catch some words of this conversationwhich appeared so interesting. At ten paces from the hedge he recognizedthe talkative Gascon; and as he had already perceived that these menwere Musketeers, he did not doubt that the three others were thosecalled the Inseparables; that is to say, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

  It may be supposed that his desire to hear the conversation wasaugmented by this discovery. His eyes took a strange expression, andwith the step of a tiger-cat he advanced toward the hedge; but he hadnot been able to catch more than a few vague syllables without anypositive sense, when a sonorous and short cry made him start, andattracted the attention of the Musketeers.

  "Officer!" cried Grimaud.

  "You are speaking, you scoundrel!" said Athos, rising upon his elbow,and transfixing Grimaud with his flaming look.

  Grimaud therefore added nothing to his speech, but contented himselfwith pointing his index finger in the direction of the hedge, announcingby this gesture the cardinal and his escort.

  With a single bound the Musketeers were on their feet, and saluted withrespect.

  The cardinal seemed furious.

  "It appears that Messieurs the Musketeers keep guard," said he. "Are theEnglish expected by land, or do the Musketeers consider themselvessuperior officers?"

  "Monseigneur," replied Athos, for amid the general fright he alone hadpreserved the noble calmness and coolness that never forsook him,"Monseigneur, the Musketeers, when they are not on duty, or when theirduty is over, drink and play at dice, and they are certainly superiorofficers to their lackeys."

  "Lackeys?" grumbled the cardinal. "Lackeys who have the order to warntheir masters when anyone passes are not lackeys, they are sentinels."

  "Your Eminence may perceive that if we had not taken this precaution, weshould have been exposed to allowing you to pass without presenting youour respects or offering you our thanks for the favor you have done usin uniting us. D'Artagnan," continued Athos, "you, who but lately wereso anxious for such an opportunity for expressing your gratitude toMonseigneur, here it is; avail yourself of it."

  These words were pronounced with that imperturbable phlegm whichdistinguished Athos in the hour of danger, and with that excessivepoliteness which made of him at certain moments a king more majesticthan kings by birth.

  D'Artagnan came forward and stammered out a few words of gratitude whichsoon expired under the gloomy looks of the cardinal.

  "It does not signify, gentlemen," continued the cardinal, withoutappearing to be in the least swerved from his first intention by thediversion which Athos had started, "it does not signify, gentlemen. I donot like to have simple soldiers, because they have the advantage ofserving in a privileged corps, thus to play the great lords; disciplineis the same for them as for everybody else."

  Athos allowed the cardinal to finish his sentence completely, and bowedin sign of assent. Then he resumed in his turn: "Discipline,Monseigneur, has, I hope, in no way been forgotten by us. We are not onduty, and we believed that not being on duty we were at liberty todispose of our time as we pleased. If we are so fortunate as to havesome particular duty to perform for your Eminence, we are ready to obeyyou. Your Eminence may perceive," continued Athos, knitting his brow,for this sort of investigation began to annoy him, "that we have notcome out without our arms."

  And he showed the cardinal, with his finger, the four muskets piled nearthe drum, on which were the cards and dice.

  "Your Eminence may believe," added d'Artagnan, "that we would have cometo meet you, if we could have supposed it was Monseigneur coming towardus with so few attendants."

  The cardinal bit his mustache, and even his lips a little.

  "Do you know what you look like, all together, as you are armed andguarded by your lackeys?" said the cardinal. "You look like fourconspirators."

  "Oh, as to that, Monseigneur, it is true," said Athos; "we do conspire,as your Eminence might have seen the other morning. Only we conspireagainst the Rochellais."

  "Ah, you gentlemen of policy!" replied the cardinal, knitting his browin his turn, "the secret of many unknown things might perhaps be foundin your brains, if we could read them as you read that letter which youconcealed as soon as you saw me coming."

  The color mounted to the face of Athos, and he made a step toward hisEminence.

  "One might think you really suspected us, monseigneur, and we wereundergoing a real interrogatory. If it be so, we trust your Eminencewill deign to explain yourself, and we should then at least beacquainted with our real position."

  "And if it were an interrogatory!" replied the cardinal. "Others besidesyou have undergone such, Monsieur Athos, and have replied thereto."

  "Thus I have told your Eminence that you had but to question us, and weare ready to reply."

  "What was that letter you were about to read, Monsieur Aramis, and whichyou so promptly concealed?"

  "A woman's letter, monseigneur."

  "Ah, yes, I see," said the cardinal; "we must be discreet with this sortof letters; but nevertheless, we may show them to a confessor, and youknow I have taken orders."

  "Monseigneur," said Athos, with a calmness the more terrible because herisked his head in making this reply, "the letter is a woman's letter,but it is neither signed Marion de Lorme, nor Madame d'Aiguillon."

  The cardinal became as pale as death; lightning darted from his eyes. Heturned round as if to give an order to Cahusac and Houdiniere. Athos sawthe movement; he made a step toward the muskets, upon which the otherthree friends had fixed their eyes, like men ill-disposed to allowthemselves to be taken. The cardinalists were three; the Musketeers,lackeys included, were seven. He judged that the match would be so muchthe less equal, if Athos and his companions were really plotting; and byone of those rapid turns which he always had at command, all his angerfaded away into a smile.

  "Well, well!" said he, "you are brave young men, proud in daylight,faithful in darkness. We can find no fault with you for watching overyourselves, when you watch so carefully over others. Gentlemen, I havenot forgotten the night in which you served me as an escort to the RedDovecot. If there were any danger to be apprehended on the road I amgoing, I would request you to accompany me; but as there is none, remainwhere you are, finish your bottles, your game, and your letter. Adieu,gentlemen!"

  And remounting his horse, which Cahusac led to him, he saluted them withhis hand, and rode away.

  The four young men, standing and motionless, followed him with theireyes without speaking a single word until he had disappeared. Then theylooked at one another.

  The countenances of all gave evidence of terror, for notwithstanding thefriendly adieu of his Eminence, they plainly perceived that the cardinalwent away with rage in his heart.

  Athos alone smiled, with a self-possessed, disdainful smile.

  When the cardinal was out of hearing and sight, "That Grimaud kept badwatch!" cried Porthos, who had a great inclination to vent his ill-humoron somebody.

  Grimaud was about to reply to excuse himself. Athos lifted his finger,and Grimaud was silent.

  "Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?" said d'Artagnan.

  "I," said Aramis, in his most flutelike tone, "I had made up my mind. Ifhe had insisted upon the letter being given up to him, I would hav
epresented the letter to him with one hand, and with the other I wouldhave run my sword through his body."

  "I expected as much," said Athos; "and that was why I threw myselfbetween you and him. Indeed, this man is very much to blame for talkingthus to other men; one would say he had never had to do with any butwomen and children."

  "My dear Athos, I admire you, but nevertheless we were in the wrong,after all."

  "How, in the wrong?" said Athos. "Whose, then, is the air we breathe?Whose is the ocean upon which we look? Whose is the sand upon which wewere reclining? Whose is that letter of your mistress? Do these belongto the cardinal? Upon my honor, this man fancies the world belongs tohim. There you stood, stammering, stupefied, annihilated. One might havesupposed the Bastille appeared before you, and that the gigantic Medusahad converted you into stone. Is being in love conspiring? You are inlove with a woman whom the cardinal has caused to be shut up, and youwish to get her out of the hands of the cardinal. That's a match you areplaying with his Eminence; this letter is your game. Why should youexpose your game to your adversary? That is never done. Let him find itout if he can! We can find out his!"

  "Well, that's all very sensible, Athos," said d'Artagnan.

  "In that case, let there be no more question of what's past, and letAramis resume the letter from his cousin where the cardinal interruptedhim."

  Aramis drew the letter from his pocket; the three friends surroundedhim, and the three lackeys grouped themselves again near the wine jar.

  "You had only read a line or two," said d'Artagnan; "read the letteragain from the commencement."

  "Willingly," said Aramis.

  "My dear Cousin,

  "I think I shall make up my mind to set out for Bethune, where my sisterhas placed our little servant in the convent of the Carmelites; thispoor child is quite resigned, as she knows she cannot live elsewherewithout the salvation of her soul being in danger. Nevertheless, if theaffairs of our family are arranged, as we hope they will be, I believeshe will run the risk of being damned, and will return to those sheregrets, particularly as she knows they are always thinking of her.Meanwhile, she is not very wretched; what she most desires is a letterfrom her intended. I know that such viands pass with difficulty throughconvent gratings; but after all, as I have given you proofs, my dearcousin, I am not unskilled in such affairs, and I will take charge ofthe commission. My sister thanks you for your good and eternalremembrance. She has experienced much anxiety; but she is now at lengtha little reassured, having sent her secretary away in order that nothingmay happen unexpectedly.

  "Adieu, my dear cousin. Tell us news of yourself as often as you can;that is to say, as often as you can with safety. I embrace you.

  "MARIE MICHON"

  "Oh, what do I not owe you, Aramis?" said d'Artagnan. "Dear Constance! Ihave at length, then, intelligence of you. She lives; she is in safetyin a convent; she is at Bethune! Where is Bethune, Athos?"

  "Why, upon the frontiers of Artois and of Flanders. The siege once over,we shall be able to make a tour in that direction."

  "And that will not be long, it is to be hoped," said Porthos; "for theyhave this morning hanged a spy who confessed that the Rochellais werereduced to the leather of their shoes. Supposing that after having eatenthe leather they eat the soles, I cannot see much that is left unlessthey eat one another."

  "Poor fools!" said Athos, emptying a glass of excellent Bordeaux winewhich, without having at that period the reputation it now enjoys,merited it no less, "poor fools! As if the Catholic religion was not themost advantageous and the most agreeable of all religions! All thesame," resumed he, after having clicked his tongue against his palate,"they are brave fellows! But what the devil are you about, Aramis?"continued Athos. "Why, you are squeezing that letter into your pocket!"

  "Yes," said d'Artagnan, "Athos is right, it must be burned. And yet ifwe burn it, who knows whether Monsieur Cardinal has not a secret tointerrogate ashes?"

  "He must have one," said Athos.

  "What will you do with the letter, then?" asked Porthos.

  "Come here, Grimaud," said Athos. Grimaud rose and obeyed. "As apunishment for having spoken without permission, my friend, you willplease to eat this piece of paper; then to recompense you for theservice you will have rendered us, you shall afterward drink this glassof wine. First, here is the letter. Eat heartily."

  Grimaud smiled; and with his eyes fixed upon the glass which Athos heldin his hand, he ground the paper well between his teeth and thenswallowed it.

  "Bravo, Monsieur Grimaud!" said Athos; "and now take this. That's well.We dispense with your saying grace."

  Grimaud silently swallowed the glass of Bordeaux wine; but his eyes,raised toward heaven during this delicious occupation, spoke a languagewhich, though mute, was not the less expressive.

  "And now," said Athos, "unless Monsieur Cardinal should form theingenious idea of ripping up Grimaud, I think we may be pretty much atour ease respecting the letter."

  Meantime, his Eminence continued his melancholy ride, murmuring betweenhis mustaches, "These four men must positively be mine."