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Chapter LI
Chapter LI
Officer
In the meanwhile, the cardinal looked anxiously for news from England;
but no news arrived but such as were annoying and threatening.
Although La Rochelle was invested, however certain success might appear,
thanks to the precautions taken, and above all to the dyke, which prevented
the entrance of any vessel into the besieged city, the blockade might last
for a long time yet; which was a great affront to the king`s arms, and a
great inconvenience to the cardinal, who had no longer, it is true, to
embroil Louis XIII. with Anne of Austria, for that affair was done, but he
had to accommodate matters between M. de Bassompierre and the Duke
d`Angouleme.
As to monsieur, who had begun the siege, he left to the cardinal the
task of finishing it.
The city, notwithstanding the incredible perseverance of its mayor, had
attempted a sort of mutiny to surrender; the mayor had hung the mutineers.
This execution quieted the ill-disposed, who resolved to allow themselves to
die of hunger, this death always appearing to them more slow and less sure
than strangulation.
On their side, from time to time, the besiegers took the messengers
which the Rochellais sent to Buckingham, or the spies which Buckingham sent
to the Rochellais. In one case or the other, the trial was soon over. M.
le Cardinal pronounced the single word - hanged! The king was invited to
come and see the hanging. The king came languidly, placing himself in a good
situation to see all the details: this amused him sometimes a little, and
made him endure the siege with patience; but it did not prevent his getting
very tired, or from talking at every moment of returning to Paris; so that
if the messengers and the spies had failed, his eminence, notwithstanding all
his imagination, would have found himself very much embarrassed.
Nevertheless, time passed on, and the Rochellais did not surrender; the
last spy that was taken was the bearer of a letter. This letter told
Buckingham that the city was at an extremity; but instead of adding, "If your
succor does not arrive within fifteen days, we will surrender," it added,
quite simply, "If your succor does not arrive within fifteen days, we shall
be all dead with hunger when it does arrive."
The Rochellais, then, had no hope but in Buckingham - Buckingham was
their Messiah. It was evident that if they one day learned in a certain
manner that they must not reckon upon Buckingham, their courage would fail
with their hope.
He looked, then, with great impatience for the news from England which
would announce to him that Buckingham would not come.
The question of carrying the city by assault, though often debated in
the council of the king, had been always rejected.
In the first place, La Rochelle appeared impregnable; then the cardinal,
whatever he might have said, very well knew that the horror of the blood shed
in this rencounter, in which Frenchmen would combat against Frenchmen, was
a retrograde movement of sixty years impressed upon his policy, and the
cardinal was at that period what we now call a man of progress. In fact, the
sacking of La Rochelle, and the assassination of three or four thousand
insurgents who would allow themselves to be killed, would resemble too
closely, in 1628, the Massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572; and then, above
all this, this extreme measure, to which the king, good Catholic as he was,
was not at all repugnant, always fell before this argument of the besieging
generals - La Rochelle is impregnable except by famine.
The cardinal could not drive from his mind the fear he entertained of
his terrible emissary, for he comprehended the strange qualities of this
woman, sometimes a serpent, sometimes a lion. Had she betrayed him? Was she
dead? He knew her well enough in all cases to know that, while acting for
him or against him, as a friend or an enemy, she would not remain motionless
without great impediments; but whence did these impediments arise? That was
what he could not know.
And yet he reckoned, and with reason, on milady. He had divined in the
past of this woman the terrible things which his red mantle alone could
cover; and he felt that, from one cause or another, this woman was his own,
as she could look to no other but himself for a support superior to the
danger which threatened her.
He resolved, then, to carry on the war alone, and to look for no success
foreign to himself, but as we look for a fortunate chance. He continued to
press the raising of the famous dyke, which was to starve La Rochelle; in the
meanwhile, he cast his eyes over that unfortunate city, which contained so
much deep misery and so many heroic virtues, and recalling the saying of
Louis XI., his political predecessor, as he himself was the predecessor of
Robespierre, he repeated this maxim of Tristan`s gossip: "Divide to reign."
Henry IV., when besieging Paris had loaves and provisions thrown over
the walls; the cardinal had little notes thrown over, in which he represented
to the Rochellais how unjust, selfish, and barbarous was the conduct of their
leaders; these leaders had corn in abundance, and would not let them partake
of it; they adopted as a maxim - for they, too, had maxims - that it was of
very little consequence that women, children, and old men should die, so long
as the men who were to defend the walls remained strong and healthy. Up to
that time, whether from devotedness, or from want of power to react against
it, this maxim, without being generally adopted, was, nevertheless, passed
from theory to practice; but the notes did it injury. The notes reminded the
men that the children, women, and old men whom they allowed to die, were
their sons, their wives, and their fathers; and that it would be more just
for every one to be reduced to the common misery, in order that one same
position should give birth to unanimous resolutions.
These notes had all the effect that he who wrote them could expect, in
that they induced a great number of the inhabitants to open private
negotiations with the royal army.
But at the moment when the cardinal saw his means already fructify, and
applauded himself for having put it in action, an inhabitant of Rochelle, who
had contrived to pass the royal lines, God knows how, such was the
watchfulness of Bassompierre, Schomberg, and the Duke d`Angouleme, themselves
watched over by the cardinal - an inhabitant of Rochelle, we say, entered the
city, coming from Portsmouth, and saying, that he had seen a magnificent
fleet ready to sail within a week. Still further, Buckingham announced to
the mayor, that at length the great league was about to declare itself
against France, and that the kingdom would be at once invaded by the English,
Imperial and Spanish armies. This letter was read publicly in all the places
of the city, copies were put up at the corners of the streets, and they even
who had begun to open negotiations interrupted them, being resolved to await
the succor so pompously announced.
This unexpected circumstance brought back Richelieu`s former
inquietudes, and forced him, in spite of himself, once more to turn his eyes
to the other side of the sea.
During this time, exempt from these inquietudes of its only and true
leader, the royal army led a joyous life, neither provisions nor money being
wanting in the camp; all the corps rivaled each other in audacity and gayety.
To take spies and hang them, to make hazardous expeditions upon the dyke or
the sea, to imagine wild plans, and to execute them coolly, such was the
pastime which made the army find these days short, which were not only so
long for the Rochellais, a prey to famine and anxiety, as even for the
cardinal, who blockaded them so closely.
Sometimes when the cardinal, always on horseback, like the lowest
gendarme of the army, cast a pensive glance over those works, so slowly
keeping pace with his wishes, which the engineers, brought from all the
corners of France, were executing under his orders, if he met a musketeer of
the company of Treville, he drew near and looked at him in a peculiar manner,
and not recognizing in him one of our four companions, he turned his
penetrating look and profound thoughts in another direction.
One day, on which, oppressed with a mortal weariness of mind, without
hope in the negotiations with the city, without news from England, the
cardinal went out, without any other aim but to go out, accompanied only by
Cahusac and La Houdiniere, strolling along the beach. Mingling the immensity
of his dreams with the immensity of the ocean, he arrived, his horse going
at a foot`s pace, on a hill, from the top of which he perceived, behind a
hedge, reclining on the sand, and catching in its passage one of those rays
of the sun so rare at this period of the year, seven men surrounded by empty
bottles. Four of these men were our musketeers, preparing to listen to a
letter one of them had just received. This letter was so important that it
made them abandon their cards and their dice on the drum-head.
The other three were occupied in opening an enormous flagon of Collicure
wine; these were the lackeys of these gentlemen.
The cardinal was, as we have said, in very low spirits, and nothing,
when he was in that state of mind, increased his depression so much as gayety
in others. Besides, he had another strange fancy, which was always to
believe that the causes of his sadness created the gayety of others. Making
a sign to La Houdiniere and Cahusac to stop, he alighted from his horse, and
went toward these suspected merry companions, hoping, by means of the sand
which deadened the sound of his steps, and of the hedge which concealed his
approach, to catch some words of this conversation which appeared so
interesting; at ten paces from the hedge he recognized the talkative Gascon,
and as he had already perceived that these men were musketeers, he did not
doubt that the three others were those called the inseparables, that is to
say, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.
It may be supposed that his desire to hear the conversation was
augmented by this discovery; his eyes took a strange expression, and with the
step of a tiger-cat, he advanced toward the hedge; but he had not been able
to catch more than a few vague syllables without any positive sense, when a
sonorous and short cry made him start, and attracted the attention of the
musketeers.
"Officer!" cried Grimaud.
"You are speaking, you scoundrel!" said Athos, rising upon his elbow,
and fascinating Grimaud with his angry look.
Grimaud therefore added nothing to his speech, but contented himself
with pointing his index finger in the direction of the hedge, denouncing by
his gesture the cardinal and his escort.
With a single bound the musketeers were on their feet, and saluted with
respect.
The cardinal seemed furious.
"It appears that messieurs the musketeers keep guard," said he. "Are
the English expected by land, or do the musketeers consider themselves
superior officers?"
"Monseigneur," replied Athos, for, amid the general fright he alone had
preserved the noble calmness and coolness that never forsook him -
"monseigneur, the musketeers, when they are not on duty, or when their duty
is over, drink and play at dice, and they are certainly superior officers for
their lackeys."
"Lackeys!" grumbled the cardinal; "lackeys, who have the word given to
warn their masters when any one passes, are not lackeys, they are sentinels."
"Your eminence may perceive that, if we had not taken this precaution,
we should have been exposed to allowing you to pass without presenting you
our respects, or offering you our thanks, for the favor you have done us in
uniting us. D`Artagnan," continued Athos, "you, who but lately were so
anxious for such an opportunity for expressing your thanks to monseigneur,
here it is, avail yourself of it."
These words were pronounced with that imperturbable phlegm which
distinguished Athos in the hour of danger, and with that excessive politeness
which made of him, at certain moments, a king more majestic than kings by
birth.
D`Artagnan came forward and stammered out a few words of gratitude,
which soon expired under the gloomy looks of the cardinal.
"It does not signify, gentlemen," continued the cardinal, without
appearing to be in the least diverted from his first intention by the
incident which Athos had started - "it does not signify, gentlemen; I do not
like simple soldiers, because they have the advantage of serving in a
privileged corps, thus to play the great lords; discipline is the same for
them as for everybody else."
Athos allowed the cardinal to finish his sentence completely, and,
bowing in sign of assent, he resumed in his turn:
"Discipline, monseigneur, has, I hope, in no way been forgotten by us.
We are not on duty, and we believed that not being on duty we were at liberty
to dispose of our time as we pleased. If we are so fortunate as to have some
particular duty to perform for your eminence, we are ready to obey you. Your
eminence may perceive," continued Athos, knitting his brow, for this sort of
investigation began to annoy him, "that we have not come out without our
arms."
And he showed the cardinal, with his finger, the four muskets, piled
near the drum upon which were the cards and dice.
"Your eminence may believe," added D`Artagnan, "that we would have come
to meet you, if we could have supposed it was monseigneur coming toward us
with so few attendants."
The cardinal bit his mustache, and even his lips a little.
"Do you know what you look like, all together, as you are, armed, and
guarded by your lackeys?" said the cardinal: "you look like four
conspirators."
"Oh! so far, monseigneur, that`s true," said Athos: "we do conspire,
as your eminence might have seen the other day, only we conspire against the
Rochellais."
"Ay! ay! messieurs les politiques!" replied the cardinal, knitting his
brow in his turn, "the secret of many unknown things might perhaps be found
in your brains, if we could read in them, as you were reading that letter
which you concealed as soon as you saw me coming."
The color mounted to the face of Athos, and he made a step toward his
eminence.
"We might be led to think that you really suspected us, monseigneur, and
that we were undergoing a real interrogatory; if it be so, we trust your
eminence will deign to explain yourself, and we should then at least be
acquainted with our real position."
"And if it were an interrogatory," replied the cardinal, "others besides
you have undergone such, Monsieur Athos and have replied to them."
"Thus, I have told your eminence that you had but to question us, and
we are ready to reply."
"What was that letter you were about to read, Monsieur Aramis, and which
you so promptly concealed?"
"A woman`s letter, monseigneur."
"Ah! yes, I understand, we must be discreet with this sort of letter;
but nevertheless, we may show them to a confessor, and, you know, I have
taken orders."
"Monseigneur," said Athos, with a calmness the more terrible, from his
risking his head when he made this reply, "the letter is a woman`s letter,
but it is neither signed Marion de Lorme, nor Madame d`Arguillon."
The cardinal became as pale as death; a fiery gleam darted from his
eyes; he turned round as if to give an order to Cahusac and Houdiniere.
Athos saw the movement; he made a step toward the muskets, upon which the
other three friends had fixed their eyes as men ill-disposed to allow
themselves to be taken. The cardinal`s party consisted of only three; the
musketeers, lackeys included, numbered seven; he judged that the match would
be so much the less equal, if Athos and his companions were really plotting;
and by one of those rapid turns which he always had at command, all his anger
faded away into a smile.
"Well! well!" said he, "you are brave young men, proud in daylight,
faithful in darkness; we can find no fault with you for watching over
yourselves, when you watch so carefully over others. Gentlemen, I have not
forgotten the night in which you served me as an escort to the Colombier
Rouge: if there were any danger to be apprehended on the road I am going, I
would request you to accompany me; but as there is none, remain where you
are, finish your bottles, your game, and your letter. Adieu, gentlemen!"
And remounting his horse, which Cahusac led to him, he saluted them with
his hand, and rode away.
The four young men, standing and motionless, followed him with their
eyes, without speaking a single word, until he had disappeared.
Then they looked at each other.
The countenances of all gave evidence of terror; for, notwithstanding
the friendly adieu of his eminence, they plainly perceived that the cardinal
went away with rage in his heart.
Athos alone smiled with a self-possessed, disdainful smile.
When the cardinal was out of hearing and sight:
"That Grimaud kept bad watch!" cried Porthos, who had a great
inclination to vent his ill-humor on somebody.
Grimaud was about to reply to excuse himself. Athos lifted his finger,
and Grimaud was silent.
"Would you have given up the letter, Aramis?" said D`Artagnan.
"I!" said Aramis, in his most flute-like tone; "I had made up my mind;
if he had insisted upon the letter being given up to him, I would have
presented the letter to him with one hand, and with the other I would have
run my sword through his body."
"I expected as much," said Athos; "and that was why I threw myself
between you and him. In good truth, this man is very much to blame to talk
in this manner to other men; one would say he had never had to do with any
but women and children."
"My dear Athos, I admire your behavior very much, but nevertheless, we
were in the wrong, after all."
"How, in the wrong!" said Athos. "Whose, then, is the air we breathe?
Whose is the ocean upon which we look? Whose is the sand upon which we were
reclining? Whose is that letter of your mistress? Do these belong to the
cardinal? Upon my honor, this man fancies the world belongs to him; there
you stood, stammering, stupefied, annihilated! one might have supposed that
the Bastille appeared before you, and that the gigantic Medusa had converted
you into stone. Is being in love conspiring? You are in love with a woman
whom the cardinal has caused to be shut up, and you wish to get her out of
the hands of his eminence; that`s a match you are playing with the cardinal:
this letter is your game, why should you expose your game to your adversary?
That is never done. Let him find it out if he can! We can find out his!"
"Well, that`s all very sensible, Athos," said D`Artagnan.
"In that case, let there be no more question of what`s past, and let
Aramis resume the letter from his cousin, where the cardinal interrupted
him."
Aramis drew the letter from his pocket, the three friends surrounded
him, and the three lackeys grouped themselves again near the wine-jar.
"You had only read a line or two," said D`Artagnan; "begin the letter
again, then."
"Willingly," said Aramis.
"My Dear Cousin: I think I shall make up my mind to set out for Stenay,
where my sister has placed our little servant in the convent of the
Carmelites; this poor child is quite resigned, as she knows she cannot live
elsewhere without the salvation of her soul being in danger. Nevertheless,
if the affairs of your family are arranged, as we hope they will be, I
believe she will run the risk of being damned, and will return to those she
regrets, particularly as she knows they are always thinking of her. In the
meanwhile, she is not very wretched; what she most desires is a letter from
her intended. I know that such sort of provisions pass with difficulty
through convent gratings; but after all, as I have given you proofs, my dear
cousin, I am not unskilled in such affairs, and I will take charge of the
commission. My sister thanks you for your good and eternal remembrance. She
has experienced much inquietude; but she is now at length a little reassured,
having sent her secretary yonder, in order that nothing may happen
unexpectedly.
"Adieu, my dear cousin; let us hear from you as often as you can, that
is to say, as often as you can with safety. I embrace you. Mary Michon."
"Oh! what do I not owe you, Aramis?" said D`Artagnan. "Dear Constance!
I have at length, then, intelligence of you; she lives, she is in safety in
a convent, she is at Stenay! Where is Stenay, Athos?"
"Why, a few leagues from the frontiers of Alsace, in Lorraine; the siege
once over, we shall be able to make a tour in that direction."
"And that will not be long, it is to be hoped," said Porthos; "for they
have this morning hung a spy who confessed that the Rochellais had come to
the leather of their shoes. Supposing, that after having eaten the leather
they eat the soles, I cannot see anything else they have left, unless they
eat one another."
"Poor fools!" said Athos, emptying a glass of excellent Bordeaux wine,
which, without having, at that period, the reputation it now enjoys, merited
it no less: "poor fools! as if the Catholic religion was not the most
advantageous and the most agreeable of all religions! It`s all one," resumed
he, after having smacked his tongue against his palate, "they are brave
fellows! But what the devil are you about, Aramis?" continued Athos; "why,
you are squeezing that letter into your pocket!"
"Yes," said D`Artagnan, "Athos is right, it must be burned; and yet if
we burn it, who knows whether Monsieur le Cardinal has not a secret to
interrogate ashes?"
"He must have one," said Athos.
"What will you do with the letter, then?" asked Porthos.
"Come here, Grimaud," said Athos. "As a punishment for having spoken
without permission, my friend, you will please to eat this piece of paper;
then to recompense you for the service you will have rendered us, you shall
afterward drink this glass of wine; here is the letter, first, eat heartily."
Grimaud smiled; and with his eyes fixed upon the glass which Athos held in
his hand, he ground the paper well between his teeth, and then swallowed it.
"Bravo! Master Grimaud!" said Athos, "and now take this; that`s well!
we dispense with your saying thank you."
Grimaud silently swallowed the glass of Bordeaux wine; but his eyes
raised toward heaven spoke, during the whole time this delicious occupation
lasted, a language which, for being mute, was not the less expressive.
"And now," said Athos, "unless Monsieur le Cardinal should form the
ingenious idea of ripping up Grimaud, I think we may be pretty much at our
ease respecting the letter."
In the meantime his eminence continued his melancholy ride, murmuring
between his mustaches:
"These four men must positively be mine."
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