Three Musketeers (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Alexandre Dumas

  “In that case I am lost,” said D’Artagnan.

  “Not so bad yet,” replied Athos; “for by this time she must have quit the shores of France.”

  D’Artagnan breathed again.

  “But after all,” asked Porthos, “who is Milady?”

  “A charming woman!” said Athos, sipping a glass of sparkling wine. “Villainous host! cried he, ”he has given us Anjou wine instead of champagne, and fancies we know no better! Yes,” continued he, “a charming woman, who entertained kind views toward our friend D’Artagnan, who, on his part, has given her some offense for which she tried to revenge herself a month ago by having him killed by two musket shots, a week ago by trying to poison him, and yesterday by demanding his head of the cardinal.”

  “What! by demanding my head of the cardinal?” cried D’Artagnan, pale with terror.

  “Yes, that is as true as the Gospel,” said Porthos; “I heard her with my own ears.”

  “I also,” said Aramis.

  “Then,” said D’Artagnan, letting his arm fall with discouragement, “it is useless to struggle longer. I may as well blow my brains out, and all will be over.”

  “That’s the last folly to be committed,” said Athos, “seeing it is the only one for which there is no remedy.”

  “But I can never escape,” said D’Artagnan, “with such enemies. First, my stranger of Meung; then De Wardes, to whom I have given three sword wounds; next Milady, whose secret I have discovered; finally, the cardinal, whose vengeance I have balked.”

  “Well,” said Athos, “that only makes four; and we are four—one for one. Pardieu! if we may believe the signs Grimaud is making, we are about to have to do with a very different number of people. What is it, Grimaud? Considering the gravity of the occasion, I permit you to speak, my friend; but be laconic, I beg. What do you see?”

  “A troop.”

  “Of how many persons?”

  “Twenty men.”

  “What sort of men?”

  “Sixteen pioneers, four soldiers.”

  “How far distant?”

  “Five hundred paces.”

  “Good! We have just time to finish this fowl and to drink one glass of wine to your health, D’Artagnan.”

  “To your health!” repeated Porthos and Aramis.

  “Well, then, to my health! although I am very much afraid that your good wishes will not be of great service to me.”

  “Bah!” said Athos, “God is great, as say the followers of Mohammed, and the future is in his hands.”

  Then, swallowing the contents of his glass, which he put down close to him, Athos arose carelessly, took the musket next to him, and drew near to one of the loopholes.

  Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan followed his example. As to Grimaud, he received orders to place himself behind the four friends in order to reload their weapons.

  At the expiration of a minute the troop appeared. They advanced along a sort of narrow channel of the trench, which made a means of communication between the bastion and the city.

  “Pardieu!” said Athos, “it was hardly worth while to distribute ourselves for twenty fellows armed with pickaxes, mattocks, and shovels. Grimaud had only to make them a sign to go away, and I am convinced they would have left us in peace.”

  “I doubt that,” replied D’Artagnan, “for they are advancing very resolutely. Besides, in addition to the pioneers, there are four soldiers and a brigadier, armed with muskets.”

  “That’s because they don’t see us,” said Athos.

  “My faith,” said Aramis, “I must confess I feel a great repugnance to fire on these poor devils of civilians.”

  “He is a bad priest,” said Porthos, “who has pity for heretics!”

  “In truth,” said Athos, “Aramis is right. I will warn them.”

  “What the devil are you going to do?” cried D’Artagnan, “you will be shot.”

  But Athos heeded not his advice. Mounting on the breach, with his musket in one hand and his hat in the other, he said, bowing courteously and addressing the soldiers and the pioneers, who, astonished at this apparition, stopped fifty paces from the bastion: “Gentlemen, a few friends and myself are about to breakfast in this bastion. Now, you know nothing is more disagreeable than being disturbed when one is at breakfast. We request you, then, if you really have business here, to wait till we have finished our repast, or to come again a short time hence; unless, which would be far better, you form the salutary resolution to quit the side of the rebels, and come and drink with us to the health of the King of France.”

  “Take care, Athos!” cried D’Artagnan; “don’t you see they are aiming?”

  “Yes, yes,” said Athos; “but they are only civilians—very bad marksmen, who will be sure not to hit me.”

  In fact, at the same instant four shots were fired, and the balls were flattened against the wall around Athos, but not one touched him.

  Four shots replied to them almost instantaneously, but much better aimed than those of the aggressors; three soldiers fell dead, and one of the pioneers was wounded.

  “Grimaud,” said Athos, still on the breach, “another musket! ”

  Grimaud immediately obeyed. On their part, the three friends had reloaded their arms; a second discharge followed the first. The brigadier and two pioneers fell dead; the rest of the troop took to flight.

  “Now, gentlemen, a sortie!” cried Athos.

  And the four friends rushed out of the fort, gained the field of battle, picked up the four muskets of the privates and the half-pike of the brigadier, and convinced that the fugitives would not stop till they reached the city, turned again toward the bastion, bearing with them the trophies of their victory.

  “Reload the muskets, Grimaud,” said Athos, “and we, gentlemen, will go on with our breakfast, and resume our conversation. Where were we?”

  “I recollect you were saying,” said D’Artagnan, “that after having demanded my head of the cardinal, Milady had quit the shores of France. Whither goes she?” added he, strongly interested in the route Milady followed.

  “She goes into England,” said Athos.

  “With what view?”

  “With the view of assassinating, or causing to be assassinated, the Duke of Buckingham.”

  D’Artagnan uttered an exclamation of surprise and indignation.

  “But this is infamous!” cried he.

  “As to that,” said Athos, “I beg you to believe that I care very little about it. Now you have done, Grimaud, take our brigadier’s half-pike, tie a napkin to it, and plant it at the top of our bastion, that these rebels of Rochellais may see that they have to deal with brave and loyal soldiers of the king.”

  Grimaud obeyed without replying. An instant afterward, the white flag was floating over the heads of the four friends. A thunder of applause saluted its appearance; half the camp was at the barrier.

  “How?” replied D’Artagnan, “you care little if she kills Buckingham or causes him to be killed? But the duke is our friend.”

  “The duke is English; the duke fights against us. Let her do what she likes with the duke; I care no more about him than an empty bottle.” And Athos threw fifteen paces from him an empty bottle from which he had poured the last drop into his glass.

  “A moment,” said D’Artagnan. “I will not abandon Buckingham thus. He gave us some very fine horses.”

  “And moreover, very handsome saddles,” said Porthos, who at the moment wore on his cloak the lace of his own.

  “Besides,” said Aramis, “God desires the conversion and not the death of a sinner.”

  “Amen!” said Athos, “and we will return to that subject later, if such be your pleasure; but what for the moment engaged my attention most earnestly, and I am sure you will understand me, D’Artagnan, was the getting from this woman a kind of carte blanche which she had extorted from the cardinal, and by means of which she could with impunity get rid of you and perhaps of us.”

  “But this creature must
be a demon!” said Porthos, holding out his plate to Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl.

  “And this carte blanche,” said D’Artagnan, “this carte blanche, does it remain in her hands?”

  “No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble, for if I did I should tell a lie.”

  “My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times I am indebted to you for my life.”

  “Then it was to go to her that you left us?” said Aramis.

  “Exactly.”

  “And you have that letter of the cardinal?” said D’Artagnan.

  “Here it is,” said Athos; and he took the invaluable paper from the pocket of his uniform. D’Artagnan unfolded it with one hand, whose trembling he did not even attempt to conceal, to read:

  Dec. 3, 1627

  “It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this has done what she has done.

  “Richelieu”

  “In fact,” said Aramis, “it is an absolution according to rule.”

  “That paper must be torn to pieces,” said D’Artagnan, who fancied he read in it his sentence of death.

  “On the contrary,” said Athos, “it must be preserved carefully. I would not give up this paper if covered with as many gold pieces.”

  “And what will she do now?” asked the young man.

  “Why,” replied Athos, carelessly, “she is probably going to write to the cardinal that a damned Musketeer, named Athos, has taken her safe-conduct from her by force; she will advise him in the same letter to get rid of his two friends, Aramis and Porthos, at the same time. The cardinal will remember that these are the same men who have so often crossed his path; and then some fine morning he will arrest D’Artagnan, and for fear he should feel lonely, he will send us to keep him company in the Bastille.”

  “Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear,” said Porthos.

  “I do not jest,” said Athos.

  “Do you know,” said Porthos, “that to twist that damned Milady’s neck would be a smaller sin than to twist those of these poor devils of Huguenots, who have committed no other crime than singing in French the psalms we sing in Latin?”

  “What says the abbé?” asked Athos, quietly.

  “I say I am entirely of Porthos’s opinion,” replied Aramis.

  “And I, too,” said D’Artagnan.

  “Fortunately, she is far off,” said Porthos, “for I confess she would worry me if she were here.”

  “She worries me in England as well as in France,” said Athos.

  “She worries me everywhere,” said D’Artagnan.

  “But when you held her in your power, why did you not drown her, strangle her, hang her?” said Porthos. “It is only the dead who do not return.”

  “You think so, Porthos?” replied the Musketeer, with a sad smile which D’Artagnan alone understood.

  “I have an idea,” said D’Artagnan.

  “What is it?” said the Musketeers.

  “To arms!” cried Grimaud.

  The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets.

  This time a small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty to twenty-five men; but they were not pioneers, they were soldiers of the garrison.

  “Shall we return to the camp?” said Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are equal.”

  “Impossible, for three reasons,” replied Athos. “The first, that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we have still some very important things to say; and the third, that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour.”

  “Well, then,” said Aramis, “we must form a plan of battle.”

  “That’s very simple,” replied Athos. “As soon as the enemy are within musket shot, we must fire upon them. If they continue to advance, we must fire again. We must fire as long as we have loaded guns. If those who remain of the troop persist in coming to the assault, we will allow the besiegers to get as far as the ditch, and then we will push down upon their heads that strip of wall which keeps its perpendicular by a miracle.”

  “Bravo!” cried Porthos. “Decidedly, Athos, you were born to be a general, and the cardinal, who fancies himself a great soldier, is nothing beside you.”

  “Gentlemen,” said Athos, “no divided attention, I beg; let each one pick out his man.”

  “I cover mine,” said D’Artagnan.

  “And I mine,” said Porthos.

  “And I idem,” said Aramis.

  “Fire, then,” said Athos.

  The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell. The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at a charging pace.

  Then the shots were repeated without regularity, but always aimed with the same accuracy. Nevertheless, as if they had been aware of the numerical weakness of the friends, the Rochellais continued to advance in quick time.

  With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march of those who remained was not slackened.

  Arrived at the foot of the bastion, there were still more than a dozen of the enemy. A last discharge welcomed them, but did not stop them; they jumped into the ditch, and prepared to scale the breach.

  “Now, my friends,” said Athos, “finish them at a blow. To the wall; to the wall!”

  And the four friends, seconded by Grimaud, pushed with the barrels of their muskets an enormous sheet of the wall, which bent as if pushed by the wind, and detaching itself from its base, fell with a horrible crash into the ditch. Then a fearful cry was heard; a cloud of dust mounted toward the sky—and all was over!

  “Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the last?” said Athos.

  “My faith, it appears so!” said D’Artagnan.

  “No,” cried Porthos; “there go three or four, limping away.”

  In fact, three or four of these unfortunate men, covered with dirt and blood, fled along the hollow way, and at length regained the city. These were all who were left of the little troop.

  Athos looked at his watch.

  “Gentlemen,” said he, “we have been here an hour, and our wager is won; but we will be fair players. Besides, D’Artagnan has not told us his idea yet.”

  And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself before the remains of the breakfast.

  “My idea?” said D’Artagnan.

  “Yes; you said you had an idea,” said Athos.

  “Oh, I remember,” said D’Artagnan. “Well, I will go to England a second time; I will go and find Buckingham.”

  “You shall not do that, D’Artagnan,” said Athos, coolly.

  “And why not? Have I not been there once?”

  “Yes; but at that period we were not at war. At that period Buckingham was an ally, and not an enemy. What you would now do amounts to treason.”

  D’Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was silent.

  “But,” said Porthos, “I think I have an idea, in my turn.”

  “Silence for Monsieur Porthos’s idea!” said Aramis.

  “I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Tréville, on some pretext or other which you must invent; I am not very clever at pretexts. Milady does not know me; I will get access to her without her suspecting me, and when I catch my beauty, I will strangle her.”

  “Well,” replied Athos, “I am not far from approving the idea of Monsieur Porthos.”

  “For shame!” said Aramis. “Kill a woman? No, listen to me; I have the true idea.”

  “Let us see your idea, Aramis,” said Athos, who felt much deference for the young Musketeer.

  “We must inform the queen.”

  “Ah, my faith, yes!” said Porthos and D’Artagnan, at the same time; “we are coming nearer to it now.”

  “Inform the queen!” said Athos; “and how? Have we relations with the court? Could we send anyone to Paris without its being known in the camp? From here to Paris it is a hundred and forty leagues; before our letter was at Angers we should be in a dungeon.”

  “As to remi
tting a letter with safety to her Majesty,” said Aramis, coloring, “I will take that upon myself. I know a clever person at Tours—”

  Aramis stopped on seeing Athos smile.

  “Well, do you not adopt this means, Athos?” said D’Artagnan.

  “I do not reject it altogether,” said Athos; “but I wish to remind Aramis that he cannot quit the camp, and that nobody but one of ourselves is trustworthy; that two hours after the messenger has set out, all the Capuchins, all the police, all the black caps of the cardinal, will know your letter by heart, and you and your clever person will be arrested.”

  “Without reckoning,” objected Porthos, “that the queen would save Monsieur de Buckingham, but would take no heed of us.”

  “Gentlemen,” said D’Artagnan, “what Porthos says is full of sense.”

  “Ah, ah! but what’s going on in the city yonder?” said Athos.

  “They are beating the general alarm.”

  The four friends listened, and the sound of the drum plainly reached them.

  “You see, they are going to send a whole regiment against us,” said Athos.

  “You don’t think of holding out against a whole regiment, do you?” said Porthos.

  “Why not?” said the Musketeer. “I feel myself quite in a humor for it; and I would hold out before an army if we had taken the precaution to bring a dozen more bottles of wine.”

  “Upon my word, the drum draws near,” said D’Artagnan.

  “Let it come,” said Athos. “It is a quarter of an hour’s journey from here to the city, consequently a quarter of an hour’s journey from the city hither. That is more than time enough for us to devise a plan. If we go from this place we shall never find another so suitable. Ah, stop! I have it, gentlemen; the right idea has just occurred to me.”

  “Tell us.”

  “Allow me to give Grimaud some indispensable orders.”

  Athos made a sign for his lackey to approach.

  “Grimaud,” said Athos, pointing to the bodies which lay under the wall of the bastion, “take those gentlemen, set them up against the wall, put their hats upon their heads, and their guns in their hands.”

  “Oh, the great man!” cried D’Artagnan. “I comprehend now. ”

  “You comprehend?” said Porthos.