Les trois mousquetaires. English Page 3

  2 THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TREVILLE

  M de Troisville, as his family was still called in Gascony, or M. deTreville, as he has ended by styling himself in Paris, had reallycommenced life as d'Artagnan now did; that is to say, without a sou inhis pocket, but with a fund of audacity, shrewdness, and intelligencewhich makes the poorest Gascon gentleman often derive more in his hopefrom the paternal inheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichangentleman derives in reality from his. His insolent bravery, his stillmore insolent success at a time when blows poured down like hail, hadborne him to the top of that difficult ladder called Court Favor, whichhe had climbed four steps at a time.

  He was the friend of the king, who honored highly, as everyone knows,the memory of his father, Henry IV. The father of M. de Treville hadserved him so faithfully in his wars against the league that in defaultof money--a thing to which the Bearnais was accustomed all his life, andwho constantly paid his debts with that of which he never stood in needof borrowing, that is to say, with ready wit--in default of money, werepeat, he authorized him, after the reduction of Paris, to assume forhis arms a golden lion passant upon gules, with the motto FIDELIS ETFORTIS. This was a great matter in the way of honor, but very little inthe way of wealth; so that when the illustrious companion of the greatHenry died, the only inheritance he was able to leave his son was hissword and his motto. Thanks to this double gift and the spotless namethat accompanied it, M. de Treville was admitted into the household ofthe young prince where he made such good use of his sword, and was sofaithful to his motto, that Louis XIII, one of the good blades of hiskingdom, was accustomed to say that if he had a friend who was about tofight, he would advise him to choose as a second, himself first, andTreville next--or even, perhaps, before himself.

  Thus Louis XIII had a real liking for Treville--a royal liking, aself-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that unhappyperiod it was an important consideration to be surrounded by such men asTreville. Many might take for their device the epithet STRONG, whichformed the second part of his motto, but very few gentlemen could layclaim to the FAITHFUL, which constituted the first. Treville was one ofthese latter. His was one of those rare organizations, endowed with anobedient intelligence like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quickeye, and a prompt hand; to whom sight appeared only to be given to seeif the king were dissatisfied with anyone, and the hand to strike thisdispleasing personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers, a Poltiot de Mere,or a Vitry. In short, up to this period nothing had been wanting toTreville but opportunity; but he was ever on the watch for it, and hefaithfully promised himself that he would not fail to seize it by itsthree hairs whenever it came within reach of his hand. At last LouisXIII made Treville the captain of his Musketeers, who were to Louis XIIIin devotedness, or rather in fanaticism, what his Ordinaries had been toHenry III, and his Scotch Guard to Louis XI.

  On his part, the cardinal was not behind the king in this respect. Whenhe saw the formidable and chosen body with which Louis XIII hadsurrounded himself, this second, or rather this first king of France,became desirous that he, too, should have his guard. He had hisMusketeers therefore, as Louis XIII had his, and these two powerfulrivals vied with each other in procuring, not only from all theprovinces of France, but even from all foreign states, the mostcelebrated swordsmen. It was not uncommon for Richelieu and Louis XIIIto dispute over their evening game of chess upon the merits of theirservants. Each boasted the bearing and the courage of his own people.While exclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited themsecretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction or genuineregret from the success or defeat of their own combatants. We learn thisfrom the memoirs of a man who was concerned in some few of these defeatsand in many of these victories.

  Treville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was to thisaddress that he owed the long and constant favor of a king who has notleft the reputation behind him of being very faithful in hisfriendships. He paraded his Musketeers before the Cardinal ArmandDuplessis with an insolent air which made the gray moustache of hisEminence curl with ire. Treville understood admirably the war method ofthat period, in which he who could not live at the expense of the enemymust live at the expense of his compatriots. His soldiers formed alegion of devil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all buthimself.

  Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the king's Musketeers, or rather M. deTreville's, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the publicwalks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting their mustaches,clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure in annoying the Guardsof the cardinal whenever they could fall in with them; then drawing inthe 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. deTreville being there to claim them. Thus M. de Treville was praised tothe highest note by these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as theywere, trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedient tohis least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out thesmallest insult.

  M de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in the firstplace, and the friends of the king--and then for himself and his ownfriends. For the rest, in the memoirs of this period, which has left somany memoirs, one does not find this worthy gentleman blamed even by hisenemies; and he had many such among men of the pen as well as among menof the sword. In no instance, let us say, was this worthy gentlemanaccused of deriving personal advantage from the cooperation of hisminions. Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered him theequal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest man. Stillfurther, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful exerciseswhich fatigue, he had become one of the most gallant frequenters ofrevels, one of the most insinuating lady's men, one of the softestwhisperers of interesting nothings of his day; the BONNES FORTUNES of deTreville were talked of as those of M. de Bassompierre had been talkedof twenty years before, and that was not saying a little. The captain ofthe Musketeers was therefore admired, feared, and loved; and thisconstitutes the zenith of human fortune.

  Louis XIV absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his own vastradiance; but his father, a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, left his personalsplendor to each of his favorites, his individual value to each of hiscourtiers. In addition to the leeves of the king and the cardinal, theremight be reckoned in Paris at that time more than two hundred smallerbut still noteworthy leeves. Among these two hundred leeves, that ofTreville was one of the most sought.

  The court of his hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier,resembled a camp from by six o'clock in the morning in summer and eighto'clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketeers, who appeared toreplace one another in order always to present an imposing number,paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and ready for anything. On one ofthose immense staircases, upon whose space modern civilization wouldbuild a whole house, ascended and descended the office seekers of Paris,who ran after any sort of favor--gentlemen from the provinces anxious tobe enrolled, and servants in all sorts of liveries, bringing andcarrying messages between their masters and M. de Treville. In theantechamber, upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is tosay, those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzingprevailed from morning till night, while M. de Treville, in his officecontiguous to this antechamber, received visits, listened to complaints,gave his orders, and like the king in his balcony at the Louvre, hadonly to place himself at the window to review both his men and arms.

  The day on which d'Artagnan presented himself the assemblage wasimposing, particularly for a provincial just arriving from his province.It is true that this provincial was a Gascon; and that, particularly atthis period, the compatriots of d'Artagnan had the reputation of notbeing easily intimidated. When he had once passed the massive doorcovered with long square-headed nails, he fell into the midst of a troopof swordsmen, who crossed one another in their passage, calling out,quarreling, and playing tricks
one with another. In order to make one'sway amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was necessary to bean officer, a great noble, or a pretty woman.

  It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that our youngman advanced with a beating heart, ranging his long rapier up his lankyleg, and keeping one hand on the edge of his cap, with that half-smileof the embarrassed provincial who wishes to put on a good face. When hehad passed one group he began to breathe more freely; but he could nothelp observing that they turned round to look at him, and for the firsttime in his life d'Artagnan, who had till that day entertained a verygood opinion of himself, felt ridiculous.

  Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four Musketeerson the bottom steps, amusing themselves with the following exercise,while ten or twelve of their comrades waited upon the landing place totake 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 fromascending.

  These three others fenced against him with their agile swords.

  D'Artagnan at first took these weapons for foils, and believed them tobe buttoned; but he soon perceived by certain scratches that everyweapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each of these scratchesnot only the spectators, but even the actors themselves, laughed like somany madmen.

  He who at the moment occupied the upper step kept his adversariesmarvelously in check. A circle was formed around them. The conditionsrequired that at every hit the man touched should quit the game,yielding his turn for the benefit of the adversary who had hit him. Infive minutes three were slightly wounded, one on the hand, another onthe ear, by the defender of the stair, who himself remained intact--apiece of skill which was worth to him, according to the rules agreedupon, three turns of favor.

  However difficult it might be, or rather as he pretended it was, toastonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonished him. He hadseen in his province--that land in which heads become so easilyheated--a few of the preliminaries of duels; but the daring of thesefour fencers appeared to him the strongest he had ever heard of even inGascony. He believed himself transported into that famous country ofgiants into which Gulliver afterward went and was so frightened; and yethe had not gained the goal, for there were still the landing place andthe antechamber.

  On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused themselves withstories about women, and in the antechamber, with stories about thecourt. On the landing d'Artagnan blushed; in the antechamber hetrembled. His warm and fickle imagination, which in Gascony had renderedhim formidable to young chambermaids, and even sometimes theirmistresses, had never dreamed, even in moments of delirium, of half theamorous wonders or a quarter of the feats of gallantry which were hereset forth in connection with names the best known and with details theleast concealed. But if his morals were shocked on the landing, hisrespect for the cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber. There, tohis great astonishment, d'Artagnan heard the policy which made allEurope tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as the private lifeof the cardinal, which so many great nobles had been punished for tryingto pry into. That great man who was so revered by d'Artagnan the elderserved as an object of ridicule to the Musketeers of Treville, whocracked their jokes upon his bandy legs and his crooked back. Some sangballads about Mme. d'Aguillon, his mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, hisniece; while others formed parties and plans to annoy the pages andguards of the cardinal duke--all things which appeared to d'Artagnanmonstrous impossibilities.

  Nevertheless, when the name of the king was now and then utteredunthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemed toclose for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They looked hesitatinglyaround them, and appeared to doubt the thickness of the partitionbetween them and the office of M. de Treville; but a fresh allusion soonbrought back the conversation to his Eminence, and then the laughterrecovered its loudness and the light was not withheld from any of hisactions.

  "Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged," thoughtthe terrified d'Artagnan, "and I, no doubt, with them; for from themoment I have either listened to or heard them, I shall be held as anaccomplice. What would my good father say, who so strongly pointed outto me the respect due to the cardinal, if he knew I was in the societyof such pagans?"

  We have no need, therefore, to say that d'Artagnan dared not join in theconversation, only he looked with all his eyes and listened with all hisears, stretching his five senses so as to lose nothing; and despite hisconfidence on the paternal admonitions, he felt himself carried by histastes and led by his instincts to praise rather than to blame theunheard-of things which were taking place.

  Although he was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de Treville'scourtiers, and this his first appearance in that place, he was at lengthnoticed, and somebody came and asked him what he wanted. At this demandd'Artagnan gave his name very modestly, emphasized the title ofcompatriot, and begged the servant who had put the question to him torequest a moment's audience of M. de Treville--a request which theother, with an air of protection, promised to transmit in due season.

  D'Artagnan, a little recovered from his first surprise, had now leisureto study costumes and physiognomy.

  The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of great heightand haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiar as to attractgeneral attention. He did not wear the uniform cloak--which was notobligatory at that epoch of less liberty but more independence--but acerulean-blue doublet, a little faded and worn, and over this amagnificent baldric, worked in gold, which shone like water ripples inthe sun. A long cloak of crimson velvet fell in graceful folds from hisshoulders, disclosing in front the splendid baldric, from which wassuspended 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 he said to those around him, that he had puton his cloak; and while he spoke with a lofty air and twisted hismustache disdainfully, all admired his embroidered baldric, andd'Artagnan 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 mustlay out one's inheritance somehow."

  "Ah, Porthos!" cried one of his companions, "don't try to make usbelieve you obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was givento you by that veiled lady I met you with the other Sunday, near thegate St. Honor."

  "No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentleman, I bought it with thecontents of my own purse," answered he whom they designated by the namePorthos.

  "Yes; about in the same manner," said another Musketeer, "that I boughtthis new purse with what my mistress put into the old one."

  "It's true, though," said Porthos; "and the proof is that I paid twelvepistoles for it."

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

  "Is it not true, Aramis?" said Porthos, turning toward anotherMusketeer.

  This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to his interrogator, whohad just designated him by the name of Aramis. He was a stout man, ofabout two- or three-and-twenty, with an open, ingenuous countenance, ablack, mild eye, and cheeks rosy and downy as an autumn peach. Hisdelicate mustache marked a perfectly straight line upon his upper lip;he appeared to dread to lower his hands lest their veins should swell,and he pinched the tips of his ears from time to time to preserve theirdelicate pink transparency. Habitually he spoke little and slowly, bowedfrequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, which were fineand of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to take great care.He answered the appeal of his friend by an affirmative nod of the head.

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

  "What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?" askedanother Musketeer, withou
t addressing anyone in particular, but on thecontrary speaking to everybody.

  "And what does he say?" asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient tone.

  "He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME DAMNEE of thecardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed Rochefort, thanksto his disguise, had tricked Monsieur de Laigues, like a ninny as heis."

  "A ninny, indeed!" said Porthos; "but is the matter certain?"

  "I had it from Aramis," replied the Musketeer.

  "Indeed?"

  "Why, you knew it, Porthos," said Aramis. "I told you of it yesterday.Let us say no more about it."

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

  "Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions quickly.What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, has his letters stolenfrom him by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal--has, with the helpof this spy and thanks to this correspondence, Chalais's throat cut,under the stupid pretext that he wanted to kill the king and marryMonsieur to the queen! Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveledit yesterday to the great satisfaction of all; and while we are stillgaping with wonder at the news, you come and tell us today, 'Let us sayno more about it.'"

  "Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it," replied Aramis,patiently.

  "This Rochefort," cried Porthos, "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 Duke,"replied Aramis.

  "Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!" cried Porthos, clappinghis hands and nodding his head. "The Red Duke is capital. I'll circulatethat saying, be assured, my dear fellow. Who says this Aramis is not awit? 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 Aramis; "I shall beone someday. You very well know, Porthos, that I continue to studytheology for that purpose."

  "He will be one, as he says," cried Porthos; "he will be one, sooner orlater."

  "Sooner," said Aramis.

  "He only waits for one thing to determine him to resume his cassock,which hangs behind his uniform," said another Musketeer.

  "What is he waiting for?" asked another.

  "Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France."

  "No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Porthos; "thank God thequeen is still of an age to give one!"

  "They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France," replied Aramis,with a significant smile which gave to this sentence, apparently sosimple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.

  "Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interrupted Porthos."Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if Monsieur de Trevilleheard you, you would repent of speaking thus."

  "Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?" cried Aramis, from whoseusually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.

  "My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the other, but notboth," replied Porthos. "You know what Athos told you the other day; youeat at everybody's mess. Ah, don't be angry, I beg of you, that would beuseless; you know what is agreed upon between you, Athos and me. You goto Madame d'Aguillon's, and you pay your court to her; you go to Madamede Bois-Tracy's, the cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass forbeing far advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don'ttrouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for yoursecret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possess thatvirtue, why the devil don't you make use of it with respect to herMajesty? Let whoever likes talk of the king and the cardinal, and how helikes; but the queen is sacred, and if anyone speaks of her, let it berespectfully."

  "Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so," repliedAramis. "You know I hate moralizing, except when it is done by Athos. Asto you, good sir, you wear too magnificent a baldric to be strong onthat head. I will be an abbe if it suits me. In the meanwhile I am aMusketeer; in that quality I say what I please, and at this moment itpleases me to say that you weary me."

  "Aramis!"

  "Porthos!"

  "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried the surrounding group.

  "Monsieur de Treville awaits Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried a servant,throwing open the door of the cabinet.

  At this announcement, during which the door remained open, everyonebecame mute, and amid the general silence the young man crossed part ofthe length of the antechamber, and entered the apartment of the captainof the Musketeers, congratulating himself with all his heart at havingso narrowly escaped the end of this strange quarrel.