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Chapter XI
Chapter XI
The Plot Thickens
His visit to M. de Treville being paid, D`Artagnan took his pensive but
longest way homeward.
On what was D`Artagnan thinking, that he strayed thus from his path,
gazing at the stars in the heaven, and sometimes sighing, sometimes smiling?
He was thinking of Madame Bonacieux. For an apprentice musketeer, the
young woman was almost a loving ideality. Pretty, mysterious, initiated in
almost all the secrets of the court, which spread such a charming gravity
over her pleasing features, she was suspected of not being insensible, which
is an irresistible charm for novices in love of the other sex; still further,
D`Artagnan had delivered her from the hands of the demons who wished to
search and ill-treat her; and this important service had established between
them one of those sentiments of gratitude which so easily take another
character.
D`Artagnan already fancied himself, so rapid is the progress of our
dreams upon the wings of imagination, accosted by a messenger from the young
woman, who brought him some billet appointing a meeting, a gold chain, or a
diamond. We have observed that young cavaliers received presents from their
king without shame; let us add that, in these times of lax morality, they had
no more delicacy with respect to their mistresses, and that the latter almost
always left them valuable and durable remembrances, as if they endeavored to
conquer the fragility of their sentiments by the solidity of their gifts.
Men then made their way in the world by the means of women without
blushing. Such as were only beautiful gave their beauty; whence, without
doubt, comes the proverb, "That the most beautiful girl in the world can give
no more than she has." Such as were rich, gave in addition a part of their
money; and a vast number of heroes of that gallant period may be cited who
would neither have won their spurs in the first place, nor their battles
afterward, without the purse, more or less furnished, which their mistress
fastened to the saddle-bow.
D`Artagnan possessed nothing; provincial diffidence, that slight
varnish, that ephemeral flower, that down of the peach, had been borne to the
winds by the but little orthodox counsels which the three musketeers gave
their friend. D`Artagnan, following the strange custom of the times,
considered himself at Paris as on a campaign, and that neither more nor less
than if he had been in Flanders - Spain yonder, woman here. In each there
was an enemy to contend with, and contributions to be levied.
But, we must say, at the present moment D`Artagnan was governed by a
much more noble and disinterested feeling. The mercer had told him he was
rich; the young man might easily guess that, with so weak a man as M.
Bonacieux, it was most likely the young wife kept the purse. But all this
had no influence upon the feeling produced by the sight of Madame Bonacieux,
and interest remained nearly foreign to this commencement of love, which had
been the consequence of it. We say nearly, for the idea that a young,
handsome, kind and witty woman is at the same time rich, takes nothing from
the charm of this beginning of love, but, on the contrary strengthens it.
There are in affluence a crowd of aristocratic cares and caprices which
are highly becoming to beauty. A fine and white stocking, a silken robe, a
lace kerchief, a pretty slipper on the foot, a tasty ribbon on the head, do
not make an ugly woman pretty, but they make a pretty woman beautiful,
without reckoning the hands which gain by all this; the hands, among women
particularly, to be beautiful must be idle.
Then D`Artagnan, as the reader, from whom we have not concealed the
state of his fortune, very well knows - D`Artagnan was not a millionaire; he
hoped to become one some day, but the time which in his own mind he fixed
upon for this happy change was still far distant. In the meanwhile, how
disheartening to see the woman one loves long for those thousands of nothings
which constitute a woman`s happiness, and be unable to give her those
thousands of nothings! At least, when the woman is rich and the lover is
not, that which he cannot offer she offers to herself; and although it is
generally with her husband`s money that she procures herself this indulgence,
the gratitude for it seldom reverts to him.
Then D`Artagnan, disposed to become the most tender of lovers, was at
the same time a very devoted friend. In the midst of his amorous projects
upon the mercer`s wife, he did not forget his friends. The pretty Madame
Bonacieux was just the woman to walk with in the Plaine St. Denis, or in the
fair of Saint-Germain, in company with Athos, Porthos and Aramis, to whom
D`Artagnan would be so proud to display such a conquest. Then, when people
walk for any length of time they become hungry, at least D`Artagnan had
fancied so several times lately; and they could enjoy some of those little
charming dinners, in which we, on one side, touch the hand of a friend, and
on the other, the foot of a mistress. Besides, on pressing occasions, in
extreme difficulties, D`Artagnan would become the preserver of his friends.
And Monsieur Bonacieux, whom D`Artagnan had pushed into the hands of the
sbirri denying him aloud, although he had promised in a whisper to save him!
We are compelled to admit to our readers that D`Artagnan thought nothing
about him in any way; or that, if he did think of him, it was only to say to
himself that he was very well where he was, wherever it might be. Love is
the most selfish of all the passions.
Let our readers, however, be satisfied; if D`Artagnan forgets his host,
or appears to forget him, under the pretense of not knowing where he has been
taken to; we will not forget him, and we know where he is. But for the
moment, let us do as the amorous Gascon did; we will see after the worthy
mercer presently.
D`Artagnan, reflecting on his future loves, addressing himself to the
beautiful night, and smiling at the stars, reascended the Rue Cherche-Midi,
or Chasse-Midi, as it was then called. As he found himself in the quarter
in which Aramis lived, he took it into his head to pay his friend a visit,
in order to explain to him why he had sent Planchet to him, with a request
that he would come instantly to the mouse-trap. Now, if Aramis was at home
when Planchet came to his abode, he had doubtless hastened to the Rue des
Fossoyeurs, and finding nobody there but his two other companions, perhaps
they would not be able to conceive what all this meant. This mystery
required an explanation; at least, so D`Artagnan thought.
And he likewise whispered to himself that he thought this was an
opportunity for talking about pretty little Madame Bonacieux, of whom his
head, if not his heart, was already full. We must never look for discretion
in first love. First love is accompanied by such excessive joy, that unless
this joy be allowed to overflow, it will stifle you.
Paris for two hours past had been dark, and began to be deserted.
Eleven o`clock struck by all the clocks of the Faubourg Saint-Germain; it was
delightful weather; D`Artagnan was passing along a lane upon the spot where
the Rue d`Assas is now situated, respiring the balmy emanations which were
borne upon the wind from the Rue Vaugirard, and which arose from the gardens
refreshed by the dews of evening and the breeze of night. From a distance
sounded, deadened, however, by good shutters, the songs of the tipples
enjoying themselves in cabarets in the plain. When arrived at the end of the
lane, D`Artagnan turned to the left. The house in which Aramis dwelt was
situated between the Rue Cassette and the Rue Servandoni.
D`Artagnan had just passed the Rue Cassette, and already perceived the
door of his friend`s house, shaded by a mass of sycamores and clematis, which
formed a vast arch opposite the front of it, when he perceived something like
a shadow issuing from the Rue Servadoni. This something was enveloped in a
cloak, and D`Artagnan at first believed it was a man; but by the smallness
of the form, the hesitation of the progress, and the indecision of the step,
he soon discovered that it was a woman. Further, this woman, as if not
certain of the house she was seeking, lifted up her eyes to look around her,
stopped, went a little back, and then returned again. D`Artagnan was
perplexed.
"If I were to go and offer her my services!" thought he. "By her step
she must be young, perhaps pretty. Oh! yes. But a woman who wanders about
the streets at this hour seldoms does so but to meet the lover. Peste! to
go and disturb an assignation would not be the best means of commencing an
acquaintance."
The young woman, however, continued advancing slowly, counting the
houses and windows. This was neither a long nor a difficult affair; there
were but three hotels, in this part of the street, two windows looking out
upon that street, and one of them was that of a pavilion parallel to that
which Aramis occupied, the other was that of Aramis himself.
"Pardieu!" said D`Artagnan to himself, to whose mind the niece of the
theologian reverted; "Pardieu! it would be droll if this late flying dove
should be in search of our friend`s house. But, by my soul, that seems more
than probable. Ah! my dear friend Aramis, this time, I will find you out."
And D`Artagnan, making himself as small as he could, concealed himself
in the darkest side of the street, near a stone bench placed at the back of
a niche.
The young woman continued to advance, for, in addition to the lightness
of her step, which had betrayed her, she had just emitted a little cough
which announced a clear sweet voice. D`Artagnan believed this cough to be
a signal.
Nevertheless, whether this cough had been answered to by an equivalent
signal, which had removed the resolution of the nocturnal seeker, or whether
she had recognized that she had arrived at the end of her journey, she boldly
drew near to Aramis` shutter, and tapped at three equal intervals with her
bent finger.
"This is all very fine, friend Aramis," murmured D`Artagnan. "Ah!
master hypocrite! this is the way you study theology is it?"
The three blows were scarcely struck, when the inward casement was
opened, and a light appeared through the apertures of the shutter.
"Ah! ah!" said the listener, "not through doors, but through windows!
Ah! ah! this was an expected visit. We shall see the windows open, and the
lady enter by escalade! Very pretty!"
But to the great astonishment of D`Artagnan, the shutter remained
closed. Still more, the light which had shone out for an instant
disappeared, and all was dark again.
D`Artagnan thought this could not last long, and continued to look with
all his eyes, and listen with all his ears.
He was right: at the end of some seconds two sharp taps were heard in
the interior; the young woman of the street replied by a single tap, and the
shutter was opened a little way.
It may be judged whether D`Artagnan looked or listened with avidity.
Unfortunately the light had been removed into another chamber. But the eyes
of the young man were accustomed to the night. Besides, the eyes of Gascons
have, as it is asserted, like those of cats, the faculty of seeing in the
dark.
D`Artagnan then saw that the young woman took from her pocket a white
object, which she unfolded quickly, and which took the form of a
handkerchief. She made her interlocutor observe the corner of this unfolded
object.
This immediately recalled to D`Artagnan`s mind the handkerchief which
he had found at the feet of Madame Bonacieux, which had reminded him of that
which he had dragged from under Aramis` foot.
"What the devil could that handkerchief mean?"
Placed where he was, D`Artagnan could not perceive the face of Aramis;
we say Aramis, because the young man entertained no doubt that it was his
friend who held this dialogue from the interior with the lady of the
exterior; curiosity prevailed over prudence; and taking advantage of the
preoccupation in which the sight of the handkerchief appeared to have plunged
the two personages now on the scene, he stole from his hiding-place, and
quick as lightning, but stepping with utmost caution, he went and placed
himself close to the angle of the wall, from which his eye could plunge into
the interior of the apartment.
Upon gaining this advantage, D`Artagnan was near uttering a cry of
surprise; it was not Aramis who was conversing with the nocturnal visitor,
it was a woman! D`Artagnan, however, could only see enough to recognize the
form of her vestments, not enough to distinguish her features.
At the same instant the woman of the apartment drew a second
handkerchief from her pocket, and exchanged it for that which had just been
shown to her. Then some words were pronounced by the two women. At length
the shutter was closed: the woman who was outside the window turned round,
and passed within four steps of D`Artagnan, pulling down the hood of her
cloak; but the precaution was too late, D`Artagnan had already recognized
Madame Bonacieux!
Madame Bonacieux! The suspicion that it was she had crossed the mind
of D`Artagnan when she drew the handkerchief from her pocket; but what
probability was there that Madame Bonacieux, who had sent for M. Laporte, in
order to be reconducted to the Louvre, should be running about the streets
of Paris, at half-past eleven at night, at the risk of being carried off a
second time?
It must be, then, for some affair of importance; and what is the affair
of the greatest importance to a pretty woman of twenty-five? Love.
But was it on her own account or on account of another person that she
exposed herself to such hazards? This was a question the young man asked
himself, whom the demon of jealousy already gnawed to the heart, neither more
nor less than a settled lover.
There was, besides, a very simple means of satisfying himself whither
Madame Bonacieux was going: that was to follow her. This means was so simple
that D`Artagnan employed it quite naturally and instinctively.
But at the sight of the young man, who detached himself from his wall
like a statue walking from its niche, and at the noise of the steps which she
heard resound behind her, Madame Bonacieux uttered a little cry and fled.
D`Artagnan ran after her. It was not a very difficult thing for him to
overtake a woman embarrassed with her cloak. He came up to her before she
had traversed a third of the street. The unfortunate woman was exhausted,
not by fatigue, but by terror, and when D`Artagnan placed his hand upon her
shoulder, she sank upon one knee, crying in a choking voice:
"Kill me, if you please, you shall know nothing!"
D`Artagnan raised her by passing his arm round her waist; but as he felt
by her weight she was on the point of fainting, he made haste to reassure her
by protestations of devotedness. These protestations were nothing for Madame
Bonacieux, for such protestations may be made with the worst intentions in
the world; but the voice was all. Madame Bonacieux thought she recognized
the sound of that voice; she opened her eyes, cast a quick glance upon the
man who had terrified her so, and at once perceiving it was D`Artagnan, she
uttered a cry of joy.
"Oh! it is you! it is you! thank God! thank God!"
"Yes, it is I!" said D`Artagnan, "it is I, whom God has sent to watch
over you."
"Was it with that intention you followed me?" asked the young woman,
with a coquettish smile, whose somewhat bantering character resumed its
influence, and with whom all fear had disappeared from the moment in which
she recognized a friend in one she had taken for an enemy.
"No," said D`Artagnan; "no, I confess it: it was chance that threw me
in your way; I saw a female knocking at the window of one of my friends."
"Of one of your friends?" interrupted Madame Bonacieux.
"Without doubt; Aramis is one of my most intimate friends."
"Aramis! who is he?"
"Come, come, you won`t tell me you don`t know Aramis?"
"This is the first time I ever heard his name pronounced."
"It is the first time, then, that you ever went to that house?"
"Certainly it is."
"And you did not know that it was inhabited by a young man?"
"No."
"By a musketeer?"
"Not at all."
"It was not him, then, you came to seek?"
"Not the least in the world. Besides, you must have seen that the
person I spoke to was a woman."
"That is true; but this woman may be one of the friends of Aramis."
"I know nothing of that."
"Since she lodges with him."
"That does not concern me."
"But who is she?"
"Oh! that is not my secret."
"My dear Madame Bonacieux, you are charming; but at the same time you
are one of the most mysterious women."
"Do I lose much by that?"
"No; you are, on the contrary, adorable!"
"Give me your arm, then."
"Most willingly. And now?"
"Now conduct me."
"Where?"
"Where I am going."
"But where are you going?"
"You will see, because you will leave me at the door."
"Shall I wait for you?"
"That will be useless."
"You will return alone, then?"
"Perhaps I may, perhaps I may not."
"But will the person who shall accompany you afterward be a man or a
woman?"
"I don`t know yet."
"But I will know it!"
"How?"
"I will wait for your coming out."
"In that case, adieu!"
"Why so?"
"I do not want you."
"But you have claimed - "
"The aid of a gentleman, not the watchfulness of a spy."
"The word is rather hard."
"How are they called who follow others in spite of them?"
"They are indiscreet."
"The word is too mild."
"Well, madame, I perceive I must act as you please."
"Why did you deprive yourself of the merit of doing so at once?"
"Is there no merit in repentance?"
"And you do really repent?"
"I know nothing about it myself. But what I know is, that I promise to
do all you wish if you will allow me to accompany you where you are going."
"And you will leave me afterward?"
"Yes."
"Without waiting for my coming out again?"
"No."
"Parole d`honneur?"
"By the faith of a gentleman."
"Take my arm, then, and let us go on."
D`Artagnan offered his arm to Madame Bonacieux, who willingly took it,
half laughing, half trembling, and both gained the top of Rue la Harpe. When
arrived there the young woman seemed to hesitate, as she had before done in
the Rue Vaugirard. uhe, however, appeared by certain signs to recognize a
door; and approaching that door:
"And now, monsieur," said she, "it is here I have business; a thousand
thanks for your honorable company, which has saved me from all the dangers
to which, alone, I might have been exposed. But the moment is come to keep
your word: I am arrived at the place of my destination."
"And you will have nothing to fear on your return?"
"I shall have nothing to fear but robbers."
"And is that nothing?"
"What could they take from me? I have not a denier about me."
"You forget that beautiful handkerchief, with the coat of arms."
"Which?"
"That which I found at your feet, and replaced in your pocket!"
"Silence! silence! imprudent man! Do you wish to destroy me?"
"You see very plainly that there is still danger for you, since a single
word makes you tremble; and you confess that if that word were heard you
would be ruined. Come, come, madame!" cried D`Artagnan, seizing her hands,
and surveying her with an ardent glance; "come! be more generous - trust to
me; have you not read in my eyes that there is nothing but devotion and
sympathy in my heart?"
"Yes," replied Madame Bonacieux; "therefore, ask my own secrets, and I
will tell them to you; but those of others - that is quite another thing."
"It is all very well," said D`Artagnan. "I shall discover them; as
these secrets may have an influence over your life, these secrets must become
mine."
"Beware of what you do!" cried the young woman, in a manner so serious
as made D`Artagnan start, in spite of himself. "Oh! meddle in nothing which
concerns me; do not seek to assist me in that which I am accomplishing. And
this I ask you in the name of the interest with which I inspire you; in the
name of the service you have rendered me, and which I never shall forget
while I have life. Rather place faith in what I tell you. Take no more
concern about me; I exist no longer for you, any more than if you had never
seen me."
"Must Aramis do as much as I, madame?" said D`Artagnan, deeply piqued.
"This is the second or third time, monsieur, that you have repeated that
name, and yet I have told you that I do not know him."
"You do not know the man at whose shutter you went and knocked? Indeed,
madame, you think me too credulous!"
"Confess, now, that it is for the sake of making me talk that you invent
this history, and create this personage."
"I invent nothing, madame: I create nothing: I only speak the exact
truth."
"And you say that one of your friends lives in that house?"
"I say so, and I repeat it for the third time; that house is that in
which one of my friends lives; and that friend is Aramis."
"All this will be cleared up at a later period," murmured the young
woman; "no, monsieur, be silent."
"If you could see my heart," said D`Artagnan, "you would there read so
much curiosity that you would pity me; and so much love, that you would
instantly satisfy my curiosity. We have nothing to fear from those who love
us."
"You speak very quickly of love, monsieur!" said the young woman,
shaking her head.
"That is because love has come suddenly upon me, and for the first time;
and because I am only twenty years old."
The young woman looked at him furtively.
"Listen; I am already upon the scent," resumed D`Artagnan. "About three
months ago I was near having a duel with Aramis, concerning a handkerchief
resembling that you showed to the female in the house; for a handkerchief
marked in the same manner, I am sure."
"Monsieur," said the young woman, "you fatigue me very much, I assure
you, by your questions."
"But you, madame! prudent as you are, think, if you were to be arrested
with that handkerchief, and that handkerchief were to be seized, would you
not be compromised?"
"In what way: are not the initials mine - C. B. - Constance Bonacieux?"
"Or Camille de Bois-Tracy."
"Silence, monsieur! once again, silence! Ah! since the dangers I
incur on my own account cannot stop you, think of those you may yourself
run!"
"Danger for me?"
"Yes; there is risk of imprisonment, risk of life, in knowing me."
"Then I will not leave you."
"Monsieur!" said the young woman, supplicating him, and clasping her
hands together; "monsieur, in the name of heaven, by the name of a soldier,
by the courtesy of a gentleman, depart - there - there is midnight striking
- that is the hour at which I am expected."
"Madame," said the young man, bowing; "I can refuse nothing asked of me
thus; be satisfied, I will depart."
"But, you will not follow me; you will not watch me?"
"I will return home instantly."
"Ah! I was quite sure you were a good and brave young man," said Madame
Bonacieux, holding out her hand to him, and placing the other upon the
knocker of a little door almost hidden in the wall.
D`Artagnan seized the hand that was held out to him, and kissed it
ardently.
"Ah! I wish I had never seen you!" cried D`Artagnan, with that
ingenuous roughness, which women often prefer to the affectations of
politeness, because it betrays the depth of the thought, and proves that
feeling prevails over reason.
"Well!" resumed Madame Bonacieux, in a voice that was almost caressing,
and pressing the hand of D`Artagnan, who had not left hold of hers, "well!
I will not say as much as you do: what is lost for to-day may not be lost for
ever. Who knows, when I shall be some day at liberty, that I may not satisfy
your curiosity?"
"And, will you make the same promise to my love?" cried D`Artagnan,
beside himself with joy.
"Oh! as to that, I do not engage myself; that depends upon the
sentiments you may inspire me with."
"Then, to-day, madame - "
"Oh! to-day, I have got no further than gratitude."
"Ah! you are too charming," said D`Artagnan sorrowfully; "and you abuse
my love."
"No, I use your generosity; that`s all. But be of good cheer; with
certain people, everything comes round."
"Oh! you render me the happiest of men! Do not forget this evening -
do not forget that promise."
"Be satisfied, in time and place I will remember everything. Well! now
then, go; go, in the name of heaven! I was expected exactly at midnight, and
I am late."
"By five minutes."
"Yes; but in certain circumstances five minutes are five ages."
"When one loves."
"Well! and who told you I had not to do with some one in love!"
"It is a man, then, that expects you?" cried D`Artagnan - "a man!"
"Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! there is the discussion going to begin again!"
said Madame Bonacieux, with a half-smile, which was not quite free from a
tinge of impatience.
"No, no; I am going, I am going; I believe in you, and I would have all
the merit of my devotedness, if that devotedness were even a stupidity.
Adieu, madame, adieu!"
And as if he only felt the strength to detach himself from the hand he
held, by a violent effort he sprang away, running, while Madame Bonacieux
knocked, as she had done at the shutter, three light and regular taps; then,
when he had gained the angle of the street, he returned: the door had been
opened, and shut again - the mercer`s pretty wife had disappeared.
D`Artagnan pursued his way; he had given his word not to watch Madame
Bonacieux, and if his life had depended upon the spot to which she was going,
or the person who should accompany her, D`Artagnan would have returned home,
since he had promised that he would do so. In five minutes he was in the Rue
des Fossoyeurs.
"Poor Athos!" said he; "he will never guess what all this means. He
will have fallen asleep waiting for me, or else he will have returned home,
where he will have learned that a woman had been there. A woman at Athos`
house! After all," continued D`Artagnan, "there was certainly one in Aramis`
house. All this is very strange; I should like to know how it will all end."
"Badly! monsieur - badly!" replied a voice, which the young man
recognized as that of Planchet; for, soliloquizing aloud, as very preoccupied
people do, he had entered the alley, at the bottom of which were the stairs
which led to his chamber.
"How, badly? What do you mean by that, you stupid fellow?" asked
D`Artagnan; "what has happened, then?"
"All sorts of misfortunes."
"What?
"In the first place, M. Athos is arrested."
"Arrested! Athos arrested! What for?"
"He was found in your lodging - they took him for you."
"And by whom was he arrested?"
"By the guards whom the black men you put to flight fetched."
"Why did he not tell them his name? Why did he not tell them he knew
nothing about his affair?"
"He took care not to do so, monsieur; on the contrary, he came up to me,
and said, `It is your master that wants his liberty at this moment, and not
I, since he knows everything, and I know nothing. They will believe he is
arrested, and that will give him time; in three days I will tell them who I
am, and they cannot fail to set me at liberty again.`"
"Bravo, Athos! noble heart!" murmured D`Artagnan. "I know him well
there! And what did the sbirri do?"
"Four conveyed him away, I don`t know where - to the Bastille or Fort
l`Eveque; two remained with the black men, who rummaged every place out, and
took all the papers; the two last mounted guard at the door during this
examination; then, when all was over, they went away, leaving the house empty
and the doors open."
"And Porthos and Aramis?"
"I could not find them; they did not come."
"But they may come from one moment to the other, for you left word that
I wanted them?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Well, don`t stir, then; if they come, tell them what has happened. Let
them wait for me at the Pomme-de-Pin; here it would be dangerous - the house
may be watched. I will run to M. de Treville to tell him all this, and will
join them there."
"Very well, monsieur," said Planchet.
"But you will remain, will you not? You are not afraid?" said
D`Artagnan, coming back to recommend courage to his lackey.
"Be satisfied, monsieur," said Planchet; "you do not know me yet. I am
brave when I set about it - I have only to begin; besides, I am a Picard."
"Then that`s understood," said D`Artagnan; "you would rather be killed
than desert your post?"
"Yes, monsieur; and there is nothing I would not do to prove to monsieur
that I am attached to him."
"Good!" said D`Artagnan to himself. "It appears that the method I have
adopted with this boy is decidedly a good one; I shall employ it upon
occasion."
And with all the swiftness of his legs, already a little fatigued,
however, with the exercise of the day and night, D`Artagnan directed his
course toward M. de Treville`s.
M. de Treville was not at his hotel; his company was on guard at the
Louvre; he was at the Louvre with his company.
He must get at M. de Treville; it was of importance that he should be
informed of what was going on. D`Artagnan resolved to endeavor to get into
the Louvre. His costume of a guard in the company of M. Dessessarts would,
he thought, be a passport for him.
He therefore went down the Rue des Petits Augustins, and came up to the
quay, in order to take the Pont Neuf. He had an idea of passing over by the
ferryboat; but, on gaining the riverside, he had mechanically put his hand
into his pocket, and perceived that he had not wherewithal to pay the
ferryman.
As he gained the top of the Rue Guenegaud, he saw two persons coming out
of the Rue Dauphine whose appearance very much struck him. One was a man,
and the other a woman: the latter very much like Madame Bonacieux in size and
step, the former could be nobody but Aramis.
Besides, the woman had on that black cloak whose outline D`Artagnan
could still see reflected upon the shutter of the Rue de Vaugirard, and upon
the door of the Rue de la Harpe.
And still further, the man wore the uniform of a musketeer.
The woman`s hood was pulled down, and the man held a handkerchief to his
face; both, this double precaution indicated - both had an interest in not
being known then.
They took the bridge; that was D`Artagnan`s road, as D`Artagnan was
going to the Louvre; D`Artagnan followed them.
He had not gone twenty steps before he became convinced that the woman
was really Madame Bonacieux, and the man Aramis.
He felt himself doubly betrayed - by his friend, and by her whom he
already loved as a mistress. Madame Bonacieux had declared to him, by all
that was holy, that she did not know Aramis; and, a quarter of an hour after
having made this assertion, he found her hanging on the arm of Aramis.
D`Artagnan did not reflect that he had only known the mercer`s pretty
wife for three hours; that she owed him nothing but a little gratitude for
having delivered her from the black men who wished to carry her off, and that
she had promised him nothing. He considered himself to be an outraged,
betrayed, and ridiculed lover; blood and anger mounted to his face - he was
resolved to unravel the mystery.
The young man and woman perceived they were watched, and redoubled their
speed. D`Artagnan determined upon his course: he passed them, then returned,
so as to meet them exactly before the Samaritaine, which was illuminated by
a lamp, which threw its light over all that part of the bridge.
D`Artagnan stopped before them, and they stopped before him.
"What do you want, monsieur?" demanded the musketeer, drawing back a
step, with a foreign accent, which proved to D`Artagnan that he was deceived
in one part of his conjectures at least.
"It is not Aramis!" cried he.
"No, monsieur, it is not Aramis; and by your exclamation I perceive you
have mistaken me for another, and pardon you."
"You pardon me!" cried D`Artagnan.
"Yes," replied the unknown. "Allow me, then, to pass on, since it is
not with me you have anything to do."
"You are right, monsieur, it is not with you I have anything to do; it
is with madame, here."
"With madame! You do not know her!" replied the stranger.
"You are deceived, monsieur; I know her very well."
"Ah," said Madame Bonacieux, in a tone of reproach, "ah, monsieur, I had
the promise of a soldier and the word of a gentleman; I thought I might have
depended upon them!"
"And I, madame!" said D`Artagnan, embarrassed - "you promised me - "
"Take my arm, madame," said the stranger, "and let us proceed on our
way."
D`Artagnan, however, stupefied, cast down, annihilated by all that
happened so strangely to him, still stood, with his arms crossed, before the
musketeer and Madame Bonacieux.
The musketeer advanced two steps, and pushed D`Artagnan aside with his
hand.
D`Artagnan made a spring backward, and drew his sword. At the same
time, and with the rapidity of lightning, the unknown drew his.
"In the name of heaven, milord!" cried Madame Bonacieux, throwing
herself between the combatants, and seizing the swords with her hands.
"Milord!" cried D`Artagnan, enlightened by a sudden idea, "milord!
Pardon me, monsieur, but are you not - "
"Milord, the Duke of Buckingham!" said Madame Bonacieux, in an
undertone; "and now you may ruin us all."
"Milord - madame, I ask a hundred pardons! but I love her, milord, and
was jealous; you know what it is to love, milord. Pardon me, and then tell
me how I can risk my life to serve your grace?"
"You are a brave young man!" said Buckingham, holding out his hand to
D`Artagnan, who pressed it respectfully. "You offer me your services; with
the same frankness I accept them. Follow us at a distance of twenty paces,
to the Louvre, and if any one watches us, slay him!"
D`Artagnan placed his naked sword under his arm, allowed the duke and
Madame Bonacieux to proceed twenty steps, and then followed them, ready to
execute the instructions of the noble and elegant minister of Charles I.
But fortunately he had no opportunity to give the duke this proof of his
devotion, and the young woman and the handsome musketeer entered the Louvre
by the wicket of the Echelle, without meeting with any interruption.
As for D`Artagnan, he immediately repaired to the cabaret of the
Pomme-de-Pin, where he found Porthos and Aramis, who were waiting for him.
But, without giving them any explanation of the alarm and inconvenience he
had caused them, he told them that he had terminated the affair alone, in
which he had, for a moment, thought he should stand in need of their
assistance.
And now, carried away as we are by our history, we must leave our three
friends to return each to his own home, and follow the Duke of Buckingham and
his guide through the labyrinth of the Louvre.
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