“In the meantime,” Athos said, “I hereby renounce my seclusion so I can stay by your side. You need to return to the Rue des Fossoyeurs, so I’ll go with you.”
“It may be no more than right around the corner, but I can’t go like this,” d’Artagnan said.
“C’est juste,” said Athos. He rang the bell and Grimaud entered. Athos made a gesture that said, Go over to d’Artagnan’s and bring back some clothes. Grimaud made an affirmative gesture in reply and departed.
“That’s that! But this is getting us nowhere in pulling together your equipment, my friend,” said Athos, “for unless I miss my guess you’ve left your best outfit at Milady’s, and I doubt she’ll be gracious enough to return it to you. Fortunately, you have the sapphire.”
“But the sapphire is yours, my dear Athos! Didn’t you say it was a family jewel?”
“Yes, my father once told me he paid two thousand crowns for it. It was a wedding present to my mother—it’s quite magnificent. My mother gave it to me—and I, instead of keeping it like a holy relic, gave it to that miserable woman. Fool that I was.”
“I understand what it must mean to you. Please, my friend—take it back.”
“I, take back that ring, after it has passed through the hands of that she-devil? Never! That ring is soiled, d’Artagnan.”
“Then sell it.”
“Sell a gem that came from my mother? To me, that would be like sacrilege.”
“Well, then, pawn it. You should be able to get at least a thousand crowns. With that sum you can settle your affairs, and when you’re flush again, you can redeem it. Having passed through the hands of usurers, it will come back cleansed of its old taints.”
Athos smiled. “D’Artagnan, you’re a charming companion,” he said. “Your perpetual good humor is a balm for the afflicted spirit. Very well, we’ll pawn that ring—but on one condition!”
“Which is?”
“That there be five hundred crowns for me, and five hundred crowns for you.”
“Are you kidding, Athos? As a guard, I don’t need a quarter of that sum, and I’ll get it by selling my saddle. What do I need? A horse for Planchet, that’s all. Besides, you forget that I, too, have a ring.”
“To which you’re more attached, it seems to me, than I am to mine. At least, that’s what I thought.”
“It’s true, because in an emergency it might save us not only from financial embarrassment, but from great danger. Coming from the queen, it’s not just a precious diamond—it’s practically an enchanted talisman.”
“I may not understand it, but I believe what you tell me. So let’s return to consideration of my ring, or rather yours. Either you take half of what we get for it, or I throw it in the Seine. And I doubt whether, as with Polycrates, a fish will do us the favor of returning it.”
“All right, then, I accept!” said d’Artagnan.
At that moment Grimaud returned, accompanied by Planchet, who was worried about his master. Eager to know what had happened to him, he’d taken advantage of the opportunity to bring the clothes himself.
D’Artagnan got dressed, as did Athos. When both were ready to go, Athos pantomimed a man taking aim to Grimaud, who took up his musketoon and prepared to accompany his master.
Athos and d’Artagnan, followed by their valets, reached the Rue des Fossoyeurs without incident. Bonacieux was at his door, regarding d’Artagnan reproachfully. “Well, if it isn’t my loyal lodger! Make haste, there’s a pretty girl waiting for you upstairs—and the women, you know, don’t like to be kept waiting!”
“That’s Kitty!” D’Artagnan dashed up the staircase.
So it was. On the landing outside his rooms, huddled against his door, he found the poor girl all atremble. When she saw him, she said, “You promised to protect me, you promised to save me from her anger! Remember, you’re the one who’s ruined me!”
“Yes, yes, no doubt about it, Kitty. Easy, now,” d’Artagnan said. “What happened after I left?”
“How do I know?” Kitty said. “At her cries, the lackeys all came running. She was insane with anger. There’s no curse she didn’t call down on your head. I thought she might remember that you came through my room to get to hers, and would think I was your accomplice, so I took what little money I had and a few of my best things and ran for it.”
“Poor child! But what can I do for you? I leave the day after tomorrow.”
“Do whatever you can, Monsieur le Chevalier. Get me out of Paris—get me out of France!”
“I can’t very well take you with me to the siege of La Rochelle,” d’Artagnan said.
“No, but you can find me a place in the provinces, in the household of some lady you know—in your own province, maybe.”
“My dear girl! In my province, the ladies do without chambermaids. But listen, I think I can manage it for you. Planchet, go find Aramis and ask him to come here right away. We have an important matter to discuss with him.”
“I see where you’re going,” said Athos, “but why not send for Porthos? It seems to me a duchess . . .”
“Porthos’s duchess is waited on by her husband’s clerks,” d’Artagnan laughed. “Besides, Kitty wouldn’t care to live in the Rue aux Ours. Would you, Kitty?”
“I’ll live anywhere you want,” Kitty said, “so long as I’m well hidden and no one knows where I am.”
“Kitty, now that we’re about to be parted, and you’re no longer jealous of me . . .”
“Monsieur le Chevalier, whether near or far, I’ll always love you.”
“Constance and loyalty—who would have thought?” Athos murmured.
“That goes for me, too,” said d’Artagnan. “I’ll always love you, never fear. But in the meantime, tell me—and I attach great importance to the question I’m about to ask—did you ever hear talk of a young lady who was carried off one night?”
“My God, Monsieur le Chevalier! Are you still in love with that woman?”
“No, it’s one of my friends who loves her. In fact, it’s Athos, here.”
“Me?” cried Athos, in the tone of a man who sees he’s about to step on a cobra.
“You, absolutely!” d’Artagnan said, giving Athos a significant nudge. “You know how concerned we are about that poor little Madame Bonacieux. Besides, Kitty won’t say anything—will you, Kitty? You understand, my child,” d’Artagnan continued, “she’s the wife of that hideous baboon you saw at the door when you came in.”
“Oh, my God!” cried Kitty. “You remind me of how scared I was! What if he had recognized me?”
“What do you mean, recognize you? Have you seen that man before?”
“He came to Milady’s house twice.”
“Did he? When was that?”
“About two or two-and-a-half weeks ago.”
“Really.”
“And last night he came again.”
“Last night?”
“Yes, just before you came yourself.”
“My dear Athos, we’re entangled in a web of spies!” d’Artagnan said. “Do you think he knew you, Kitty?”
“I pulled my hood down when I saw him, but it might have been too late.”
“Athos, he mistrusts you less than he does me. Go down and see if he’s still at his door.”
Athos went down the stairs, and returned shortly thereafter. “He’s disappeared,” he said, “and the house is closed up.”
“He’s gone to make his report and say that all the pigeons are in the dovecot.”
“Then the pigeons should fly,” said Athos. “Just leave Planchet to let us know what happens.”
“Half a moment! We sent for Aramis, you know.”
“Quite so,” said Athos. “We’ll wait for Aramis.”
At that moment Aramis came in. They quickly explained everything, and asked if, among all his high connections, he could find a place for Kitty.
Aramis thought for a moment, and said, “Would this really be of service to you, d’Artagnan?”
“I would be grateful to you all my life.”
“Very well. Madame de Bois-Tracy,” Aramis said, coloring, “asked me for a trustworthy femme de chambre for one of her friends who lives in the provinces. If you can vouch for mademoiselle, my dear d’Artagnan . . .”
“Oh, Monsieur!” cried Kitty. “Believe me, I’ll be completely devoted to anyone who gives me a way to get out of Paris.”
“Then all is for the best,” said Aramis. He sat at a table and wrote a short note that he folded and sealed with a ring. Then he gave the note to Kitty.
“Now, my child,” said d’Artagnan, “you know it’s no good for any of us to stay here any longer. It’s time to part, but we’ll meet again in better days.”
“And whenever we meet again, in whatever time and place,” said Kitty, “you’ll find I love you then as much as I love you today.”
“Gamblers’ promises,” muttered Athos, as d’Artagnan escorted Kitty down the stairs.
A moment later, the three young men separated, setting a rendezvous for four o’clock at Athos’s lodgings. Planchet was left to guard the house.
Aramis returned home, while Athos and d’Artagnan went to see about pawning the sapphire.
As the Gascon had predicted, they easily got three hundred pistoles in pawn for the ring. Furthermore, the Jew told them that it would make a magnificent pendant for an earring, and he would give them five hundred pistoles if they would sell it.
Athos and d’Artagnan, with the knowledge of a connoisseur and the energy of two soldiers, needed less than three hours to purchase all the equipment of a musketeer going on campaign. Besides, Athos, who was every inch the great noble, refused to haggle. When he found what he wanted, he paid the asking price without deigning to bargain. D’Artagnan wanted to negotiate, but Athos, smiling, just put his hand on his shoulder, and d’Artagnan understood that, while it was all right for a petty Gascon gentleman to dicker over price, that was not for a man with the airs of a prince.
The musketeer found a superb Andalusian steed, rising six years, as black as jet, with clean, elegant legs, and nostrils of fire. He examined him and found him faultless. They were asking a thousand livres for him. Perhaps he could have been had for less, but while d’Artagnan was debating the price with the horse-trader, Athos was counting his hundred pistoles onto the table.
Grimaud got a Picard horse, stout and strong, which cost three hundred livres. But after buying the saddle for this latter horse and arms for Grimaud, there wasn’t a sou left of Athos’s hundred and fifty pistoles.
D’Artagnan offered to let his friend dip his hands into his share, which he could return later, but Athos’s only response was a shrug of the shoulders. “How much did the Jew say he would give us for the sapphire if we sold it?” he asked.
“Five hundred pistoles.”
“In other words, two hundred pistoles more—a hundred for you, and a hundred for me. That’s a veritable fortune. My friend, let’s go back to his shop.”
“You . . . you mean you want to . . . ”
“To have that ring again would only bring back dismal memories. Besides, we’ll never have the three hundred pistoles to redeem it, so not selling it will just cost us the extra two hundred. Go and tell him the ring is his, d’Artagnan, and come back with the two hundred pistoles.”
“Athos—reconsider, I beg you.”
“What we need right now is money, so we’ll just have to learn to make sacrifices. Go, d’Artagnan, go. Grimaud will accompany you with his musketoon.”
A half an hour later d’Artagnan returned, without trouble, and with the two thousand livres.
And that was how Athos found, close at home, resources he’d never anticipated.
XXXIX
An Apparition
At four o’clock the four friends met at Athos’s house. Their common preoccupation with finding equipment for the campaign had vanished, and each face only expressed its owner’s private anxieties—for behind all present happiness lurks a fear for the future.
Suddenly Planchet burst in with two letters for d’Artagnan.
One was a little billet, discreetly folded and sealed in green wax, with a cachet of a dove carrying a leafy branch.
The other was a great square epistle, resplendent with the awesome arms of His Eminence the Cardinal.
At the sight of the little letter, d’Artagnan’s heart leaped, for he thought he recognized the handwriting of the address—and though he’d seen that script only once, the memory was engraved on his heart. He took the little billet and opened it eagerly. It said:
On Thursday, between six and seven o’clock in the evening, take a stroll on the road to Chaillot and look with care into the passing carriages. But as you value your life, or the lives of those who love you, don’t say a word or make a move that might lead anyone to believe you recognize me, the woman who exposes herself to ruin just to see you for an instant.
The letter was unsigned.
“It’s a trap,” said Athos. “Don’t go, d’Artagnan.”
“Perhaps,” said d’Artagnan, “but I think I recognize the handwriting.”
“It may be a forgery,” replied Athos. “Between six and seven o’clock the road to Chaillot is quite deserted. It’s no more safe than going for a walk in the forest of Bondy.”
“But suppose we all go?” said d’Artagnan. “What the devil! They can’t eat up all four of us, plus our lackeys, horses, and arms.”
“And it’s a fine opportunity to show off our new equipment,” said Porthos.
“But if it’s a woman who’s written to you, d’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “and that woman desires not to be seen, you must realize that this would compromise her. That’s not the act of a gentleman.”
“We’ll hang back and let him go up alone,” said Porthos.
“Maybe, but a pistol is easily shot from a carriage, even at a gallop.”
“Bah!” said d’Artagnan. “They’ll miss me. Then we’ll catch the carriage and exterminate the villains inside it, since they’ll have proven themselves our enemies.”
“He’s right—we’ll have ourselves a little battle,” said Porthos. “It’ll be a chance to try out our new weapons.”
“Yes, that might be amusing,” said Aramis, in his mild and nonchalant way.
“As you like,” said Athos.
“Messieurs, it’s already half past four,” d’Artagnan said. “There’s barely enough time to be on the road to Chaillot by six o’clock.”
“Besides, if we go too late, it will be too dark to see us,” said Porthos, “and that would be a pity. Let’s get ready to go, Messieurs.”
“Let’s not forget the second letter,” said Athos. “That seal, it seems to me, indicates that it merits being opened. I must say, my dear d’Artagnan, it probably deserves more attention than that little trifle you’ve stowed away over your heart.”
D’Artagnan blushed. “All right, then, Gentlemen, let’s see what His Eminence desires.” He unsealed the letter, and read:
Monsieur d’Artagnan, of His Majesty’s Guard, Company des Essarts, is expected at the Hôtel Cardinal this evening at eight o’clock.
LA HOUDINIÈRE90 Captain of His Eminence’s Guards
“The devil!” said Athos. “Here’s a rendezvous that’s much more serious than the other.”
“I’ll go to the second one after the first,” d’Artagnan said. “One is for seven o’clock, the other for eight; there will be time for both.”
“Hmm! I wouldn’t go at all,” said Aramis. “A gallant cavalier can’t ignore a rendezvous set by a lady, but a prudent gentleman may excuse himself from waiting on His Eminence, especially when he has reason to believe he isn’t being summoned to receive a compliment.”
“I agree with Aramis,” Porthos said.
“Messieurs, I already received from Monsieur de Cavois another such invitation from His Eminence,” replied d’Artagnan. “I ignored it, and the next day something awful happened to me! Constance disappeared. This tim
e, no matter what, I’m going.”
“If you’re set on it,” said Athos, “then so be it.”
“But what about the Bastille?” Aramis said.
“Bah! You would get me out,” d’Artagnan replied.
“No doubt about it,” Porthos said with admirable aplomb, as if it were a simple matter.
“Of course we’d get you out,” Aramis said, “but the timing is inconvenient, as we’re supposed to set out on campaign the day after tomorrow. You’re better off not risking the Bastille, at least at present.”
“We can offer something better than that,” said Athos. “We’ll stay with him the entire evening. Then each of us, with three musketeers behind us, can watch one of the doors of the cardinal’s hôtel. If we see a closed carriage come out that looks suspicious, we can fall upon it. It’s a long time since we had a scrap with the guards of Monsieur le Cardinal; Monsieur de Tréville must think we’re dead.”
“Decidedly, Athos, you were meant to be a Général d’Armée,” said Aramis. “What do you say to this plan, Messieurs?”
“Admirable!” the young men replied in chorus.
“All right,” said Porthos, “I’ll run to Monsieur de Tréville’s hôtel and warn some of our comrades to be ready by eight o’clock and meet us at the Hôtel Cardinal. Meanwhile, have the lackeys saddle the horses.”
“I haven’t got a horse,” d’Artagnan said, “but I can borrow one of Monsieur de Tréville’s.”
“No time,” said Aramis. “You’ll take one of mine.”
“One of yours? How many do you have?” asked d’Artagnan.
“Three,” said Aramis, with a little smile.
“My friend, you are certainly the best-mounted poet in the Kingdom of France and Navarre,” said Athos.
“Really, Aramis—three horses?” said d’Artagnan. “I can’t imagine why you would go and buy three horses.”
“That’s why I only bought two,” Aramis said.
“What, did the third one fall from heaven?”
“No,” Aramis said, “the third one was brought to me this morning by a liveried servant, who wouldn’t say what household he served, but who said he was following the orders of his master.”
The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas - [Full Version] - (ANNOTATED) Page 44