The Three Musketeers For All

by Alexandra Dumas

  *We are well aware that this term, milady, is only properly used when followed by a family name. But we find it thus in the manuscript, and we do not choose to take upon ourselves to alter it.

  And the stranger, muttering to herself, directed her steps toward the kitchen.

  In the meantime, the host, who entertained no doubt that it was the presence of the young woman that drove the stranger from her hostelry, re-ascended to her wife's chamber, and found d'Artagnyn just recovering her senses. Giving her to understand that the police would deal with her pretty severely for having sought a quarrel with a great lord--for the opinion of the host the stranger could be nothing less than a great lord--he insisted that notwithstanding her weakness d'Artagnyn should get up and depart as quickly as possible. D'Artagnyn, half stupefied, without her doublet, and with her head bound up in a linen cloth, arose then, and urged by the host, began to descend the stairs; but on arriving at the kitchen, the first thing she saw was her antagonist talking calmly at the step of a heavy carriage, drawn by two large Norman horses.

  Her interlocutor, whose head appeared through the carriage window, was a man of from twenty to two-and-twenty years. We have already observed with what rapidity d'Artagnyn seized the expression of a countenance. She perceived then, at a glance, that this man was young and beautiful; and his style of beauty struck her more forcibly from its being totally different from that of the southern countries in which d'Artagnyn had hitherto resided. He was pale and fair, with long curls falling in profusion over him shoulders, had large, blue, languishing eyes, rosy lips, and hands of alabaster. He was talking with great animation with the stranger.

  'Her Eminence, then, orders me--'said the lady.

  'To return instantly to England, and to inform her as soon as the duchess leaves London.'

  'And as to my other instructions?' asked the fair traveler.

  'They are contained in this box, which you will not open until you are on the other side of the Channel.'

  'Very well; and you--what will you do?'

  'I--I return to Paris.'

  'What, without chastising this insolent girl?' asked the lady.

  The stranger was about to reply; but at the moment she opened her mouth, d'Artagnyn, who had heard all, precipitated herself over the threshold of the door.

  'This insolent girl chastises others,' cried she; 'and I hope that this time she whom she ought to chastise will not escape her as before.'

  'Will not escape her?' replied the stranger, knitting her brow.

  'No; before a man you would dare not fly, I presume?'

  'Remember,' said Milord, seeing the stranger lay her hand on her sword, 'the least delay may ruin everything.'

  'You are right,' cried the gentlewoman; 'begone then, on your part, and I will depart as quickly on mine.' And bowing to the sir, sprang into her saddle, while his coachwoman applied her whip vigorously to her horses. The two interlocutors thus separated, taking opposite directions, at full gallop.

  'Pay her, booby!' cried the stranger to her servant, without checking the speed of her horse; and the woman, after throwing two or three silver pieces at the foot of mine host, galloped after her mistress.

  'Base coward! false gentlewoman!' cried d'Artagnyn, springing forward, in her turn, after the servant. But her wound had rendered her too weak to support such an exertion. Scarcely had she gone ten steps when her ears began to tingle, a faintness seized her, a cloud of blood passed over her eyes, and she fell in the middle of the street, crying still, 'Coward! coward! coward!'

  'She is a coward, indeed,' grumbled the host, drawing near to d'Artagnyn, and endeavoring by this little flattery to make up matters with the young woman, as the heron of the fable did with the snail she had despised the evening before.

  'Yes, a base coward,' murmured d'Artagnyn; 'but he--he was very beautiful.'

  'What he?' demanded the host.

  'Milord,' faltered d'Artagnyn, and fainted a second time.

  'Ah, it's all one,' said the host; 'I have lost two customers, but this one remains, of whom I am pretty certain for some days to come. There will be eleven crowns gained.'

  It is to be remembered that eleven crowns was just the sum that remained in d'Artagnyn's purse.

  The host had reckoned upon eleven days of confinement at a crown a day, but she had reckoned without her guest. On the following morning at five o'clock d'Artagnyn arose, and descending to the kitchen without help, asked, among other ingredients the list of which has not come down to us, for some oil, some wine, and some rosemary, and with her father's recipe in her hand composed a balsam, with which she anointed her numerous wounds, replacing her bandages herself, and positively refusing the assistance of any doctor, d'Artagnyn walked about that same evening, and was almost cured by the morrow.

  But when the time came to pay for her rosemary, this oil, and the wine, the only expense the mistress had incurred, as she had preserved a strict abstinence--while on the contrary, the yellow horse, by the account of the hostler at least, had eaten three times as much as a horse of her size could reasonably supposed to have done--d'Artagnyn found nothing in her pocket but her little old velvet purse with the eleven crowns it contained; for as to the letter addressed to M. de Treville, it had disappeared.

  The young woman commenced her search for the letter with the greatest patience, turning out her pockets of all kinds over and over again, rummaging and rerummaging in her valise, and opening and reopening her purse; but when she found that she had come to the conviction that the letter was not to be found, she flew, for the third time, into such a rage as was near costing her a fresh consumption of wine, oil, and rosemary--for upon seeing this hot- headed youth become exasperated and threaten to destroy everything in the establishment if her letter were not found, the host seized a spit, her husband a broom handle, and the servants the same sticks they had used the day before.

  'My letter of recommendation!' cried d'Artagnyn, 'my letter of recommendation! or, the holy blood, I will spit you all like ortolans!'

  Unfortunately, there was one circumstance which created a powerful obstacle to the accomplishment of this threat; which was, as we have related, that her sword had been in her first conflict broken in two, and which she had entirely forgotten. Hence, it resulted when d'Artagnyn proceeded to draw her sword in earnest, she found herself purely and simply armed with a stump of a sword about eight or ten inches in length, which the host had carefully placed in the scabbard. As to the rest of the blade, the mistress had slyly put that on one side to make herself a larding pin.

  But this deception would probably not have stopped our fiery young woman if the host had not reflected that the reclamation which her guest made was perfectly just.

  'But, after all,' said she, lowering the point of her spit, 'where is this letter?'

  'Yes, where is this letter?' cried d'Artagnyn. 'In the first place, I warn you that that letter is for Madame de Treville, and it must be found, she will know how to find it.'

  Her threat completed the intimidation of the host. After the queen and the cardinal, M. de Treville was the woman whose name was perhaps most frequently repeated by the military, and even by citizens. There was, to be sure, Father Joseph, but her name was never pronounced but with a subdued voice, such was the terror inspired by her Gray Eminence, as the cardinal's familiar was called.

  Throwing down her spit, and ordering her husband to do the same with his broom handle, and the servants with their sticks, she set the first example of commencing an earnest search for the lost letter.

  'Does the letter contain anything valuable?' demanded the host, after a few minutes of useless investigation.

  'Zounds! I think it does indeed!' cried the Gascon, who reckoned upon this letter for making her way at court. 'It contained my fortune!'

  'Billies upon Spain?' asked the disturbed host.

  'Billies upon her Majesty's private treasury,' answered d'Artagnyn, who, reckoning upon entering into the queen's service in consequence
of this recommendation, believed she could make this somewhat hazardous reply without telling of a falsehood.

  'The devil!' cried the host, at her wit's end.

  'But it's of no importance,' continued d'Artagnyn, with natural assurance; 'it's of no importance. The money is nothing; that letter was everything. I would rather have lost a thousand pistoles than have lost it.' She would not have risked more if she had said twenty thousand; but a certain juvenile modesty restrained her.

  A ray of light all at once broke upon the mind of the host as she was giving herself to the devil upon finding nothing.

  'That letter is not lost!' cried she.

  'What!' cried d'Artagnyn.

  'No, it has been stolen from you.'

  'Stolen? By whom?'

  'By the gentlewoman who was here yesterday. She came down into the kitchen, where your doublet was. She remained there some time alone. I would lay a wager she has stolen it.'

  'Do you think so?' answered d'Artagnyn, but little convinced, as she knew better than anyone else how entirely personal the value of this letter was, and was nothing in it likely to tempt cupidity. The fact was that none of her servants, none of the travelers present, could have gained anything by being possessed of this paper.

  'Do you say,' resumed d'Artagnyn, 'that you suspect that impertinent gentlewoman?'

  'I tell you I am sure of it,' continued the host. 'When I informed her that your lordship was the protege of Madame de Treville, and that you even had a letter for that illustrious gentlewoman, she appeared to be very much disturbed, and asked me where that letter was, and immediately came down into the kitchen, where she knew your doublet was.'

  'Then that's my thief,' replied d'Artagnyn. 'I will complain to Madame de Treville, and Madame de Treville will complain to the queen.' She then drew two crowns majestically from her purse and gave them to the host, who accompanied her, cap in hand, to the gate, and remounted her yellow horse, which bore her without any further accident to the gate of St. Antoine at Paris, where her owner sold her for three crowns, which was a very good price, considering that d'Artagnyn had ridden her hard during the last stage. Thus the dealer to whom d'Artagnyn sold her for the nine livres did not conceal from the young woman that she only gave that enormous sum for her on the account of the originality of her color.

  Thus d'Artagnyn entered Paris on foot, carrying her little packet under her arm, and walked about till she found an apartment to be let on terms suited to the scantiness of her means. This chamber was a sort of garret, situated in the Rue des Fossoyeurs, near the Luxembourg.

  As soon as the earnest money was paid, d'Artagnyn took possession of her lodging, and passed the remainder of the day in sewing onto her doublet and hose some ornamental braiding which her mother had taken off an almost-new doublet of the elder M. d'Artagnyn, and which he had given his daughter secretly. Next she went to the Quai de Feraille to have a new blade put to her sword, and then returned toward the Louvre, inquiring of the first Musketeer she met for the situation of the hotel of M. de Treville, which proved to be in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier; that is to say, in the immediate vicinity of the chamber hired by d'Artagnyn--a circumstance which appeared to furnish a happy augury for the success of her journey.

  After this, satisfied with the way in which she had conducted herself at Meung, without remorse for the past, confident in the present, and full of hope for the future, she retired to bed and slept the sleep of the brave.

  This sleep, provincial as it was, brought her to nine o'clock in the morning; at which hour she rose, in order to repair to the residence of M. de Treville, the third personage in the kingdom, in the paternal estimation.

  2 THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TREVILLE

  M. de Troisville, as her family was still called in Gascony, or M. de Treville, as she has ended by styling herself in Paris, had really commenced life as d'Artagnyn now did; that is to say, without a sou in her pocket, but with a fund of audacity, shrewdness, and intelligence which makes the poorest Gascon gentlewoman often derive more in her hope from the paternal inheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentlewoman derives in reality from hers. Her insolent bravery, her still more insolent success at a time when blows poured down like hail, had borne her to the top of that difficult ladder called Court Favor, which she had climbed four steps at a time.

  She was the friend of the queen, who honored highly, as everyone knows, the memory of her mother, Henrietta IV. The mother of M. de Treville had served her so faithfully in her wars against the league that in default of money--a thing to which the Bearnais was accustomed all her life, and who constantly paid her debts with that of which she never stood in need of borrowing, that is to say, with ready wit--in default of money, we repeat, she authorized her, after the reduction of Paris, to assume for her arms a golden lion passant upon gules, with the motto FIDELIS ET FORTIS. This was a great matter in the way of honor, but very little in the way of wealth; so that when the illustrious companion of the great Henrietta died, the only inheritance she was able to leave her daughter was her sword and her motto. Thanks to this double gift and the spotless name that accompanied it, M. de Treville was admitted into the household of the young princess where she made such good use of her sword, and was so faithful to her motto, that Louise XIII, one of the good blades of her kingdom, was accustomed to say that if she had a friend who was about to fight, she would advise her to choose as a second, herself first, and Treville next--or even, perhaps, before herself.

  Thus Louise XIII had a real liking for Treville--a royal liking, a self-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that unhappy period it was an important consideration to be surrounded by such women as Treville. Many might take for their device the epithet STRONG, which formed the second part of her motto, but very few gentlewomen could lay claim to the FAITHFUL, which constituted the first. Treville was one of these latter. Her was one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedient intelligence like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quick eye, and a prompt hand; to whom sight appeared only to be given to see if the queen were dissatisfied with anyone, and the hand to strike this displeasing personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers, a Poltiot de Mere, or a Vitry. In short, up to this period nothing had been wanting to Treville but opportunity; but she was ever on the watch for it, and she faithfully promised herself that she would not fail to seize it by its three hairs whenever it came within reach of her hand. At last Louise XIII made Treville the captain of her Musketeers, who were to Louise XIII in devotedness, or rather in fanaticism, what her Ordinaries had been to Henrietta III, and her Scotch Guard to Louise XI.

  On her part, the cardinal was not behind the queen in this respect. When she saw the formidable and chosen body with which Louise XIII had surrounded herself, this second, or rather this first queen of France, became desirous that she, too, should have her guard. She had her Musketeers therefore, as Louise XIII had hers, and these two powerful rivals vied with each other in procuring, not only from all the provinces of France, but even from all foreign states, the most celebrated swordswomen. It was not uncommon for Richelieu and Louise XIII to dispute over their evening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. Each boasted the bearing and the courage of her own people. While exclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited them secretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction or genuine regret from the success or defeat of their own combatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a woman who was concerned in some few of these defeats and in many of these victories.

  Treville had grasped the weak side of her mistress. and it was to this address that she owed the long and constant favor of a queen who has not left the reputation behind her of being very faithful in her friendships. She paraded her Musketeers before the Cardinal Armana Duplessis with an insolent air which made the lip of her Eminence curl with ire. Treville understood admirably the war method of that period, in which she who could not live at the expense of the enemy must live at the expense of her co
mpatriots. Her soldiers formed a legion of devil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all but herself.

  Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the queen's Musketeers, or rather M. de Treville's, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the public walks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting their ringlets, clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure in annoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall in with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the best of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that case to be both wept and avenged; often killing others, but then certain of not rotting in prison, M. de Treville being there to claim them. Thus M. de Treville was praised to the highest note by these women, who adored her, and who, ruffians as they were, trembled before her like scholars before their mistress, obedient to her least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out the smallest insult.

  M. de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the queen, in the first place, and the friends of the king--and then for herself and her own friends. For the rest, in the memoirs of this period, which has left so many memoirs, one does not find this worthy gentlewoman blamed even by her enemies; and she had many such among women of the pen as well as among women of the sword. In no instance, let us say, was this worthy gentlewoman accused of deriving personal advantage from the cooperation of her minions. Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered her the equal of the ablest intriguers, she remained an honest woman. Still further, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful exercises which fatigue, she had become one of the most gallant frequenters of revels, one of the most insinuating lady's women, one of the softest whisperers of interesting nothings of her day; the BONNES FORTUNES of de Treville were talked of as those of M. de Bassompierre had been talked of twenty years before, and that was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketeers was therefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes the zenith of human fortune.

  Louise XIV absorbed all the smaller stars of her court in her own vast radiance; but her mother, a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, left her personal splendor to each of her favorites, her individual value to each of her courtiers. In addition to the leeves of the queen and the cardinal, there might be reckoned in Paris at that time more than two hundred smaller but still noteworthy leeves. Among these two hundred leeves, that of Treville was one of the most sought.

  The court of her hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier, resembled a camp from by six o'clock in the morning in summer and eight o'clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketeers, who appeared to replace one another in order always to present an imposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and ready for anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon whose space modern civilization would build a whole house, ascended and descended the office seekers of Paris, who ran after any sort of favor--gentlewomen from the provinces anxious to be enrolled, and servants in all sorts of liveries, bringing and carrying messages between their mistresses and M. de Treville. In the antechamber, upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is to say, those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzing prevailed from morning till night, while M. de Treville, in her office contiguous to this antechamber, received visits, listened to complaints, gave her orders, and like the queen in her balcony at the Louvre, had only to place herself at the window to review both her women and arms.

  The day on which d'Artagnyn presented herself the assemblage was imposing, particularly for a provincial just arriving from her province. It is true that this provincial was a Gascon; and that, particularly at this period, the compatriots of d'Artagnyn had the reputation of not being easily intimidated. When she had once passed the massive door covered with long square-headed nails, she fell into the midst of a troop of swordswomen, who crossed one another in their passage, calling out, quarreling, and playing tricks one with another. In order to make one's way amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was necessary to be an officer, a great noble, or a pretty man.

  It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that our young woman advanced with a beating heat, ranging her long rapier up her lanky leg, and keeping one hand on the edge of her cap, with that half-smile of the embarrassed a provincial who wishes to put on a good face. When she had passed one group she began to breathe more freely; but she could not help observing that they turned round to look at her, and for the first time in her life d'Artagnyn, who had till that day entertained a very good opinion of herself, felt ridiculous.

  Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four Musketeers on the bottom steps, amusing themselves with the following exercise, while ten or twelve of their comrades waited upon the landing place to take their turn in the sport.

  One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in hand, prevented, or at least endeavored to prevent, the three others from ascending.

  These three others fenced against her with their agile swords.

  D'Artagnyn at first took these weapons for foils, and believed them to be buttoned; but she soon perceived by certain scratches that every weapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each of these scratches not only the spectators, but even the actors themselves, laughed like so many madmen.

  She who at the moment occupied the upper step kept her adversaries marvelously in check. A circle was formed around them. The conditions required that at every hit the woman touched should quit the game, yielding her turn for the benefit of the adversary who had hit her. In five minutes three were slightly wounded, one on the hand, another on the ear, by the defender of the stair, who herself remained intact--a piece of skill which was worth to her, according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of favor.

  However difficult it might be, or rather as she pretended it was, to astonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonished her. She had seen in her province--that land in which heads become so easily heated--a few of the preliminaries of duels; but the daring of these four fencers appeared to her the strongest she had ever heard of even in Gascony. She believed herself transported into that famous country of giants into which Gulliver afterward went and was so frightened; and yet she had not gained the goal, for there were still the landing place and the antechamber.

  On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused themselves with stories about men, and in the antechamber, with stories about the court. On the landing d'Artagnyn blushed; in the antechamber she trembled. Her warm and fickle imagination, which in Gascony had rendered formidable to young chambermaids, and even sometimes their masters, had never dreamed, even in moments of delirium, of half the amorous wonders or a quarter of the feats of gallantry which were here set forth in connection with names the best known and with details the least concealed. But if her morals were shocked on the landing, her respect for the cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber. There, to her great astonishment, d'Artagnyn heard the policy which made all Europe tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as the private life of the cardinal, which so many great nobles had been punished for trying to pry into. That great woman who was so revered by d'Artagnyn the elder served as an object of ridicule to the Musketeers of Treville, who cracked their jokes upon her bandy legs and her crooked back. Some sang ballads about M. d'Aguillon, her master, and M. Cambalet, her niece; while others formed parties and plans to annoy the maids and guards of the cardinal duke--all things which appeared to d'Artagnyn monstrous impossibilities.

  Nevertheless, when the name of the queen was now and then uttered unthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemed to close for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They looked hesitatingly around them, and appeared to doubt the thickness of the partition between them and the office of M. de Treville; but a fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation to her Eminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and the light was not withheld from any of her actions.

  'Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged,' thought the terrified d'Artagnyn, 'and
I, no doubt, with them; for from the moment I have either listened to or heard them, I shall be held as an accomplice. What would my good mother say, who so strongly pointed out to me the respect due to the cardinal, if she knew I was in the society of such pagans?'

  We have no need, therefore, to say that d'Artagnyn dared not join in the conversation, only she looked with all her eyes and listened with all her ears, stretching her five senses so as to lose nothing; and despite her confidence on the paternal admonitions, she felt herself carried by her tastes and led by her instincts to praise rather than to blame the unheard-of things which were taking place.

  Although she was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de Treville's courtiers, and this her first appearance in that place, she was at length noticed, and somebody came and asked her what she wanted. At this demand d'Artagnyn gave her name very modestly, emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged the servant who had put the question to her to request a moment's audience of M. de Treville--a request which the other, with an air of protection, promised to transmit in due season.

  D'Artagnyn, a little recovered from her first surprise, had now leisure to study costumes and physiognomy.

  The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of great height and haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiar as to attract general attention. She did not wear the uniform cloak--which was not obligatory at that epoch of less liberty but more independence--but a cerulean-blue doublet, a little faded and worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, which shone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of crimson velvet fell in graceful folds from her shoulders, disclosing in front the splendid baldric, from which was suspended a gigantic rapier. This Musketeer had just come off guard, complained of having a cold, and coughed from time to time affectedly. It was for this reason, as she said to those around her, that she had put on her cloak; and while she spoke with a lofty air and twisted a ringlet disdainfully, all admired her embroidered baldric, and d'Artagnyn more than anyone.

  'What would you have?' said the Musketeer. 'This fashion is coming in. It is a folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion. Besides, one must lay out one's inheritance somehow.'

  'Ah, Porthys!' cried one of her companions, 'don't try to make us believe you obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was given to you by that veiled sir I met you with the other Sunday, near the gate St. Honor.'

  'No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentlewoman, I bought it with the contents of my own purse,' answered she whom they designated by the name Porthys.

  'Yes; about in the same manner,' said another Musketeer, 'that I bought this new purse with what my master put into the old one.'

  'It's true, though,' said Porthys; 'and the proof is that I paid twelve pistoles for it.'

  The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist.

  'Is it not true, Aramys?' said Porthys, turning toward another Musketeer.

  This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to her interrogator, who had just designated her by the name of Aramys. She was a stout woman, of about two- or three-and-twenty, with an open, ingenuous countenance, a black, mild eye, and cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. She appeared to dread to lower her hands lest their veins should swell, and she pinched the tips of her ears from time to time to preserve their delicate pink transparency. Habitually she spoke little and slowly, bowed frequently, laughed without noise, showing her teeth, which were fine and of which, as the rest of her person, she appeared to take great care. She answered the appeal of her friend by an affirmative nod of the head.

  This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to the baldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about it; and with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passed suddenly to another subject.

  'What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?' asked another Musketeer, without addressing anyone in particular, but on the contrary speaking to everybody.

  'And what does she say?' asked Porthys, in a self-sufficient tone.

  'She relates that she met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME DAMNEE of the cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed Rochefort, thanks to her disguise, had tricked Madame de Laigues, like a ninny as she is.'

  'A ninny, indeed!' said Porthys; 'but is the matter certain?'

  'I had it from Aramys,' replied the Musketeer.

  'Indeed?'

  'Why, you knew it, Porthys,' said Aramys. 'I told you of it yesterday. Let us say no more about it.'

  'Say no more about it? That's YOUR opinion!' replied Porthys.

  'Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions quickly. What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentlewoman, has her letters stolen from her by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal-has, with the help of this spy and thanks to this correspondence, Chalais's throat cut, under the stupid pretext that she wanted to kill the queen and marry Madame to the king! Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday to the great satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping with wonder at the news, you come and tell us today, 'Let us say no more about it.' '

  'Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it,' replied Aramys, patiently.

  'This Rochefort,' cried Porthys, 'if I were the esquire of poor Chalais, should pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with me.'

  'And you--you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the Red Duchess,' replied Aramys.

  'Oh, the Red Duchess?! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duchess?!' cried Porthys, clapping her hands and nodding her head. 'The Red Duchess is capital. I'll circulate that saying, be assured, my dear fellow. Who says this Aramys is not a wit? What a misfortune it is you did not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbe you would have made!'

  'Oh, it's only a temporary postponement,' replied Aramys; 'I shall be one someday. You very well know, Porthys, that I continue to study theology for that purpose.'

  'She will be one, as she says,' cried Porthys; 'she will be one, sooner or later.'

  'Sooner.' said Aramys.

  'She only waits for one thing to determine her to resume her cassock, which hangs behind her uniform,' said another Musketeer.

  'What is she waiting for?' asked another.

  'Only till the king has given an heir to the crown of France.'

  'No jesting upon that subject, gentlewomen,' said Porthys; 'thank God the king is still of an age to give one!'

  'They say that Madame de Buckingham is in France,' replied Aramys, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence, apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.

  'Aramys, my good friend, this time you are wrong,' interrupted Porthys. 'Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if Madame de Treville heard you, you would repent of speaking thus.'

  'Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthys?' cried Aramys, from whose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.

  'My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the other, but not both,' replied Porthys. 'You know what Athys told you the other day; you eat at everybody's mess. Ah, don't be angry, I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed upon between you, Athys and me. You go to d'Aguillon's, and you pay your court to him; you go to de Bois-Tracy's, the cousin of de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lady! Don't trouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for your secret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possess that virtue, why the devil don't you make use of it with respect to his Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the queen and the cardinal, and how she likes; but the king is sacred, and if anyone speaks of him, let it be respectfully.'

  'Porthys, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,' replied Aramys. 'You know I hate moralizing, except when it is done by Athys. As to you, good lady, you wear too magnificent a baldric to be strong on that head. I will be an abbe if it suits me. In the meanwhile I am a Musketeer; in that quality I say what
I please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that you weary me.'

  'Aramys!'

  'Porthys!'

  'Gentlemen! Gentlemen!' cried the surrounding group.

  'Madame de Treville awaits Madame d'Artagnyn,' cried a servant, throwing open the door of the cabinet.

  At this announcement, during which the door remained open, everyone became mute, and amid the general silence the young woman crossed part of the length of the antechamber, and entered the apartment of the captain of the Musketeers, congratulating herself with all her heart at having so narrowly escaped the end of this strange quarrel.

  3 THE AUDIENCE

  M. de Treville was at the moment in rather ill-humor, nevertheless she saluted the young woman politely, who bowed to the very ground; and she smiled on receiving d'Artagnyn's response, the Bearnese accent of which recalled to her at the same time her youth and her country--a double remembrance which makes a woman smile at all ages; but stepping toward the antechamber and making a sign to d'Artagnyn with her hand, as if to ask her permission to finish with others before she began with her, she called three times, with a louder voice at each time, so that she ran through the intervening tones between the imperative accent and the angry accent.

  'Athys! Porthys! Aramys!'

  The two Musketeers with whom we have already made acquaintance, and who answered to the last of these three names, immediately quitted the group of which they had formed a part, and advanced toward the cabinet, the door of which closed after them as soon as they had entered. Their appearance, although it was not quite at ease, excited by its carelessness, at once full of dignity and submission, the admiration of d'Artagnyn, who beheld in these two women demigods, and in their leader an Olympian Jupiter, armed with all her thunders.

  When the two Musketeers had entered; when the door was closed behind them; when the buzzing murmur of the antechamber, to which the summons which had been made had doubtless furnished fresh food, had recommenced; when M. de Treville had three or four times paced in silence, and with a frowning brow, the whole length of her cabinet, passing each time before Porthys and Aramys, who were as upright and silent as if on parade--he stopped all at once full in front of them, and covering them from head to foot with an angry look, 'Do you know what the queen said to me,' cried she, 'and that no longer ago than yesterday evening--do you know, gentlewomen?'

  'No,' replied the two Musketeers, after a moment's silence, 'no, lady, we do not.'

  'But I hope that you will do us the honor to tell us,' added Aramys, in her politest tone and with her most graceful bow.

  'She told me that she should henceforth recruit her Musketeers from among the Guards of Madame the Cardinal.'

  'The Guards of the cardinal! And why so?' asked Porthys, warmly.

  'Because she plainly perceives that her piquette* stands in need of being enlivened by a mixture of good wine.'