The Three Musketeers. Alexandre Dumas

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       8 The Court Intrigue

      NEVERTHELESS, THE FORTY pistoles of Louis XIII., like everything else in this world, after having had a beginning, had also an end; and, after the end, our four companions fell into difficulties. Athos, at first, supported the association from his own private funds; to him succeeded Porthos, and, thanks to one of his occasional disappearances, he supplied the necessities of his friends for about fifteen days. Lastly, came the turn of Aramis, who performed his part with a good grace, on the strength of a few pistoles, procured, as he asserted, by the sale of some of his theological books. After all these resources were exhausted, they had recourse to M. de Treville, who made some advances of pay; but these could not go very far with our musketeers, who had had advances already; while the young guardsman had as yet no pay due. When they were at last almost destitute, they mustered, as a last resource, about eight or ten pistoles, which Porthos staked at play; but, being in ill-luck, he lost not only them, but twenty-five more, for which he gave his word of honour. Their difficulties thus became transformed to actual bankruptcy; and the four half-starved soldiers, followed by their lackeys, were seen running about the promenades and guard-rooms, picking up dinners wherever they could find them; for whilst in prosperity they had, by Aramis’s advice, sown repasts right and left, in order that they might reap some in the season of adversity. Athos received four invitations, and every time took his three friends and their lackeys with him; Porthos had six chances, of which, also, they all took advantage; but Aramis had eight, for he, as may be seen, was a man who made but little noise over a good deal of work. As for d’Artagnan, who scarcely knew any one in the capital, he only found a breakfast on chocolate at the house of a Gascon priest, and one dinner with a cornet of the guards. He took his little army with him to the priest—whose two months’ stock of provisions it mercilessly consumed—and to the cornet’s, who gave them quite a banquet; but, as Planchet observed, however much we may devour, it still makes only a single meal.

      D’Artagnan, therefore, was somewhat humbled at returning only one meal and a half for the feasts which Athos, Porthos, and Aramis had procured him. He thought himself a burden to the clique; forgetting, in his youthful sincerity, that he had supported that clique throughout a whole month. It was, by this reflection that his ardent mind was set to work. He conceived that this coalition of four brave, enterprising, and active young men, ought to have some nobler aim than idle walks, fencing lessons, and more or less amusing jests. In fact, four such men as they—so devoted to each other, with their purses or their lives; so ready to support each other without surrendering an inch; executing, either singly or together, the common resolutions; menacing the four cardinal points at one time, or concentrating their united efforts on some single focus—ought inevitably, either secretly or openly, either by mine or trench, by stratagem or force, to find a way to what they had in view, however well defended or however distant that object might be. The only thing that surprised d’Artagnan was, that this capacity had never yet occurred to his companions. He himself now thought of it seriously, racking his brain to find a direction for his individual power four times multiplied, with which he felt assured that he might, as with the lever which Archimedes sought, succeed in moving the world.—But his meditations were disturbed by a gentle knock at the door.

      D’Artagnan roused Planchet, and told him to see who was there. But from this phrase of rousing Planchet, it must not be supposed that it was night. No! it was four in the afternoon; but two hours had elapsed since Planchet, on coming to ask his master for some dinner, had been answered—

      “He who sleeps, dines!”

      And Planchet was having dinner on this economical fare.

      A man of plain and simple appearance, who had a bourgeois air, was introduced.

      Planchet would have liked, by way of dessert, to hear the conversation; but the man declared to d’Artagnan that what he had to say being urgent and confidential, he would wish to be alone with him. D’Artagnan therefore dismissed Planchet, and begged his visitor to be seated.

      There was a momentary silence, during which the two men regarded one another inquisitively, after which d’Artagnan bowed as a signal of attention.

      “I have heard M. d’Artagnan mentioned as a very brave young man,” said the citizen, “and this it is that has determined me to confide a secret to him.”

      “Speak, sir, speak!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, who instinctively suspected something profitable.

      The citizen paused; and then continued—“I have a wife, who is seamstress to the queen, and who is not without wit or beauty. I was induced to marry her, three years ago, though she had but a small dowry, because M. de la Porte, the queen’s cloak-bearer, is her godfather and patron.”

      “Well, sir?” demanded d’Artagnan.

      “Well, sir,” replied the citizen, “she was abducted yesterday morning, as she left her workroom.”

      “And by whom has she been abducted?” inquired d’Artagnan.

      “I do not know positively, sir,” said the other; “but I suspect a certain person.”

      “And who is this person whom you suspect?”

      “One who has for a long time pursued her.”

      “The deuce he has!”

      “But, allow me to tell you, sir, that there is less of love than of policy in all this.”

      “Less of love than of policy!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, with an air of profound reflection; “and whom do you suspect?”

      “I scarcely know whether I ought to mention names.”

      “Sir,” said d’Artagnan, “permit me to observe, that I have absolutely demanded nothing from you; it is you who have come to me; it is you who told me that you had a secret to confide to me; do then as you please; there is yet time to draw back.”

      “No, sir, you have the air of an honourable man, and I can trust you. I believe it is in consequence of no love affair of her own that my wife has been entrapped, but because of an amour of a lady of far more exalted station than her own!”

      “Ah, ah! can it be on account of some amour of Madame de Bois Tracy?” asked d’Artagnan; who wished to appear familiar with Court circles.

      “Higher, sir, higher!”

      “Of Madame d’Aiguillon?”

      “Higher yet!” said the citizen.

      “Of Madame de Chevreuse?”

      “Higher still!—much higher!”

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