Essential Novelists - Alexandre Dumas. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ eyebrow being heightened or lowered half a line, without his hands losing their pearly hue, without his conversation, which was cheerful that evening, ceasing to be calm and agreeable.

      Neither was it, as with our neighbors, the English, an atmospheric influence which darkened his countenance; for the sadness generally became more intense toward the fine season of the year. June and July were the terrible months with Athos.

      For the present he had no anxiety. He shrugged his shoulders when people spoke of the future. His secret, then, was in the past, as had often been vaguely said to d’Artagnan.

      This mysterious shade, spread over his whole person, rendered still more interesting the man whose eyes or mouth, even in the most complete intoxication, had never revealed anything, however skillfully questions had been put to him.

      “Well,” thought d’Artagnan, “poor Athos is perhaps at this moment dead, and dead by my fault—for it was I who dragged him into this affair, of which he did not know the origin, of which he is ignorant of the result, and from which he can derive no advantage.”

      “Without reckoning, monsieur,” added Planchet to his master’s audibly expressed reflections, “that we perhaps owe our lives to him. Do you remember how he cried, ‘On, d’Artagnan, on, I am taken’? And when he had discharged his two pistols, what a terrible noise he made with his sword! One might have said that twenty men, or rather twenty mad devils, were fighting.”

      These words redoubled the eagerness of d’Artagnan, who urged his horse, though he stood in need of no incitement, and they proceeded at a rapid pace. About eleven o’clock in the morning they perceived Amiens, and at half past eleven they were at the door of the cursed inn.

      D’Artagnan had often meditated against the perfidious host one of those hearty vengeances which offer consolation while they are hoped for. He entered the hostelry with his hat pulled over his eyes, his left hand on the pommel of the sword, and cracking his whip with his right hand.

      “Do you remember me?” said he to the host, who advanced to greet him.

      “I have not that honor, monseigneur,” replied the latter, his eyes dazzled by the brilliant style in which d’Artagnan traveled.

      “What, you don’t know me?”

      “No, monseigneur.”

      “Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you done with that gentleman against whom you had the audacity, about twelve days ago, to make an accusation of passing false money?”

      The host became as pale as death; for d’Artagnan had assumed a threatening attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after his master.

      “Ah, monseigneur, do not mention it!” cried the host, in the most pitiable voice imaginable. “Ah, monseigneur, how dearly have I paid for that fault, unhappy wretch as I am!”

      “That gentleman, I say, what has become of him?”

      “Deign to listen to me, monseigneur, and be merciful! Sit down, in mercy!”

      D’Artagnan, mute with anger and anxiety, took a seat in the threatening attitude of a judge. Planchet glared fiercely over the back of his armchair.

      “Here is the story, monseigneur,” resumed the trembling host; “for I now recollect you. It was you who rode off at the moment I had that unfortunate difference with the gentleman you speak of.”

      “Yes, it was I; so you may plainly perceive that you have no mercy to expect if you do not tell me the whole truth.”

      “Condescend to listen to me, and you shall know all.”

      “I listen.”

      “I had been warned by the authorities that a celebrated coiner of bad money would arrive at my inn, with several of his companions, all disguised as Guards or Musketeers. Monseigneur, I was furnished with a description of your horses, your lackeys, your countenances—nothing was omitted.”

      “Go on, go on!” said d’Artagnan, who quickly understood whence such an exact description had come.

      “I took then, in conformity with the orders of the authorities, who sent me a reinforcement of six men, such measures as I thought necessary to get possession of the persons of the pretended coiners.”

      “Again!” said d’Artagnan, whose ears chafed terribly under the repetition of this word COINERs.

      “Pardon me, monseigneur, for saying such things, but they form my excuse. The authorities had terrified me, and you know that an innkeeper must keep on good terms with the authorities.”

      “But once again, that gentleman—where is he? What has become of him? Is he dead? Is he living?”

      “Patience, monseigneur, we are coming to it. There happened then that which you know, and of which your precipitate departure,” added the host, with an acuteness that did not escape d’Artagnan, “appeared to authorize the issue. That gentleman, your friend, defended himself desperately. His lackey, who, by an unforeseen piece of ill luck, had quarreled with the officers, disguised as stable lads—”

      “Miserable scoundrel!” cried d’Artagnan, “you were all in the plot, then! And I really don’t know what prevents me from exterminating you all.”

      “Alas, monseigneur, we were not in the plot, as you will soon see. Monsieur your friend (pardon for not calling him by the honorable name which no doubt he bears, but we do not know that name), Monsieur your friend, having disabled two men with his pistols, retreated fighting with his sword, with which he disabled one of my men, and stunned me with a blow of the flat side of it.”

      “You villain, will you finish?” cried d’Artagnan, “Athos—what has become of Athos?”

      “While fighting and retreating, as I have told Monseigneur, he found the door of the cellar stairs behind him, and as the door was open, he took out the key, and barricaded himself inside. As we were sure of finding him there, we left him alone.”

      “Yes,” said d’Artagnan, “you did not really wish to kill; you only wished to imprison him.”

      “Good God! To imprison him, monseigneur? Why, he imprisoned himself, I swear to you he did. In the first place he had made rough work of it; one man was killed on the spot, and two others were severely wounded. The dead man and the two wounded were carried off by their comrades, and I have heard nothing of either of them since. As for myself, as soon as I recovered my senses I went to Monsieur the Governor, to whom I related all that had passed, and asked, what I should do with my prisoner. Monsieur the Governor was all astonishment. He told me he knew nothing about the matter, that the orders I had received did not come from him, and that if I had the audacity to mention his name as being concerned in this disturbance he would have me hanged. It appears that I had made a mistake, monsieur, that I had arrested the wrong person, and that he whom I ought to have arrested had escaped.”

      “But Athos!” cried d’Artagnan, whose impatience was increased by the disregard of the authorities, “Athos, where is he?”

      “As I was anxious to repair the wrongs I had done the prisoner,” resumed the innkeeper, “I took my way straight to the cellar in order to set him at liberty. Ah, monsieur, he was no longer a man, he was a devil! СКАЧАТЬ