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Chapter VII
Chapter VII
The Interior Of "The Musketeers"
When D`Artagnan was out of the Louvre, and consulted his friends upon
the use he had best make of his share of the forty pistoles, Athos advised
him to order a good repast at the Pomme-de-Pin, Porthos to engage a lackey,
and Aramis to provide himself with a suitable mistress.
The repast was carried into effect that very day, and the lackey waited
at table. The repast had been ordered by Athos, and the lackey furnished by
Porthos. He was a Picard, whom the glorious musketeer had picked up on the
bridge De la Tournelle, making his rounds and spitting in the water.
Porthos pretended that this occupation was a proof of a reflective and
contemplative organization, and he had brought him away without any other
recommendation. The noble carriage of this gentleman, on whose account he
believed himself to be engaged, had seduced Planchet - that was the name of
the Picard: he felt a slight disappointment, however, when he saw that the
place was already taken by a compeer named Mousqueton, and when Porthos
signified to him that the state of his household, though great, would not
support two servants, and that he must enter into the service of D`Artagnan.
Nevertheless, when he waited at the dinner given by his master, and saw him
take out a handful of gold to pay for it, he believed his fortune made, and
returned thanks to heaven for having thrown him into the service of such a
Croesus; he preserved this opinion even after the feast, with the remnants
of which he repaired his long abstinences. But when in the evening he made
his master`s bed, the chimeras of Planchet faded away. The bed was the only
one in the apartments, which consisted of an antechamber and a bedroom.
Planchet slept in the antechamber upon a coverlet taken from the bed of
D`Artagnan, and which D`Artagnan from that time made shift without.
Athos, on his part, had a valet whom he had trained in his service in
a perfectly peculiar fashion, and who was named Grimaud. He was very
taciturn, this worthy signor. Be it understood we are speaking of Athos.
During the five or six years that he had lived in the strictest intimacy with
his companions, Porthos and Aramis, they could remember having often seen him
smile, but had never heard him laugh. His words were brief and expressive
- conveying all that was meant - and no more: no embellishments, no
embroidery, no arabesques. His conversation was a fact without any episodes.
Although Athos was scarcely thirty years old, and was of great personal
beauty, and intelligence of mind, no one knew that he had ever had a
mistress. He never spoke of women. He certainly did not prevent others from
speaking of them before him, although it was easy to perceive that this kind
of conversation, in which he only mingled by bitter words and misanthropic
remarks, was perfectly disagreeable to him. His reserve, his roughness, and
his silence made almost an old man of him; he had then, in order not to
disturb his habits, accustomed Grimaud to obey him upon a single gesture, or
upon the mere movement of his lips. He never spoke to him but upon most
extraordinary occasions.
Sometimes Grimaud, who feared his master as he did fire, while
entertaining a strong attachment to his person, and a great veneration for
his talents, believed he perfectly understood what he wanted, flew to execute
the order received, and did precisely the contrary. Athos then shrugged his
shoulders, and without putting himself in a passion, gave Grimaud a good
thrashing. On these days he spoke a little.
Porthos, as we have seen, was of a character exactly opposite to that
of Athos: he not only talked much, but he talked loudly; little caring, we
muster render him that justice, whether anybody listened to him or not; he
talked for the pleasure of talking, and for the pleasure of hearing himself
talk; he spoke upon all subjects except the sciences, alleging in this
respect the inveterate hatred he had borne to the learned from his childhood.
He had not so noble an air as Athos, and the consciousness of his inferiority
in this respect had, at the commencement of their intimacy, often rendered
him unjust toward that gentleman, whom he endeavored to eclipse by his
splendid dress. But with his simple musketeer`s uniform and nothing but the
manner in which he threw back his head and advanced his foot, Athos instantly
took the place which was his due, and consigned the ostentatious Porthos to
the second rank. Porthos consoled himself by filling the antechamber of M.
de Treville and the guard-room of the Louvre with the accounts of his bonnes
fortunes, of which Athos never spoke, and at the present moment, after having
passed from the noblesse of the robe to the noblesse of the sword, from the
lawyer`s dame to the baroness, there was question of nothing less with
Porthos than a foreign princess, who was enormously fond of him.
An old proverb says, "Like master like man." Let us pass then from the
valet of Athos to the valet of Porthos, from Grimaud to Mousqueton.
Mousqueton was a Norman, whose pacific name of Boniface his master had
changed into the infinitely more sonorous one of Mousqueton. He had entered
Porthos` service upon condition that he should only be clothed and lodged,
but in a handsome manner; he claimed but two hours a day to himself, to
consecrate to an employment which would provide for his other wants. Porthos
agreed to the bargain; the thing suited him wonderfully well. He had
doublets for Mousqueton cut out of his old clothes and cast-off cloaks, and
thanks to a very intelligent tailor, who made his clothes look as good as new
by turning them, and whose wife was suspected of wishing to make Porthos
descend from his aristocratic habits, Mousqueton made a very good figure when
attending on his master.
As for Aramis, of whom we believe we have sufficiently explained the
character, a character besides which, like that of his companions, we shall
be able to follow in its development, his lackey was called Bazin. Thanks
to the hopes which his master entertained of some day entering into orders,
he was always clothed in black, as became the servant of a churchman. This
was a Berrichon of from thirty-five to forty years of age, mild, peaceable,
sleek, employing the leisure his master left him in the perusal of pious
works, providing rigorously for two, a dinner of few dishes but excellent.
For the rest, he was dumb, blind, and deaf, and of unimpeachable fidelity.
And now that we are acquainted, superficially at least, with the masters
and the valets, let us pass on to the dwellings occupied by each of them.
Athos dwelt in the Rue Ferou, within two steps of the Luxembourg: his
apartments consisted of two small chambers, very nicely fitted up, in a
furnished house, the hostess of which, still young, and still really
handsome, cast tender glances uselessly at him. Some fragments of great past
splendor appeared here and there upon the walls of this modest lodging; a
sword, for example, richly damascened, which belonged by its make to the
times of Francis I., the hilt of which alone, encrusted with precious stones,
might be worth two hundred pistoles, and which, nevertheless, in his moments
of greatest distress, Athos had never pledged nor offered for sale. This
sword had long been an object of ambition for Porthos. Porthos would have
given ten years of his life to possess this sword.
One day when he had an appointment with a duchess, he endeavored even
to borrow it of Athos. Athos, without saying anything, emptied his pockets,
got together all his jewels, purses, aiguillettes, and gold chains, and
offered them all to Porthos; but as to the sword, he said, it was sealed to
its place, and should never quit it until its master should himself quit his
lodgings. In addition to the sword there was a portrait representing a
nobleman of the time of Henry III., dressed with the greatest elegance, and
who wore the order of the Holy Ghost; and his portrait had with Athos certain
resemblances of lines, certain family likenesses, which indicated that this
great noble, a knight of the orders of the king, was his ancestor.
Besides these, a casket of magnificent goldsmith`s work, with the same
arms as the sword and the portrait, formed a middle ornament to the
mantelpiece, which assorted badly with the rest of the furniture. Athos
always carried the key of this coffer about him, but he one day opened it
before Porthos, and Porthos was convinced that this coffer contained nothing
but letters and papers - love letters and family papers, no doubt.
Porthos lived in apartments, large in size, and of a very sumptuous
appearance, in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier. Every time he passed with a
friend before his windows, at one of which Mousqueton was sure to be placed
in full livery, Porthos raised his head and his hand, and said, "That is my
abode!" But he was never to be found at home, he never invited anybody to go
up with him, and no one could form an idea of what these sumptuous apartments
contained in the shape of real riches.
As to Aramis, he dwelt in a little lodging composed of a boudoir, an
eating-room, and a bedroom, which room, situated, as the others were, on the
ground-floor, looked out upon a little fresh, green garden, shady and
impenetrable to the eyes of his neighbors.
With regard to D`Artagnan, we know how he was lodged, and we have
already made acquaintance with his lackey, Master Planchet.
D`Artagnan, who was by nature very curious, as people generally are who
possess the genius of intrigue, did all he could to make out who Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis really were; for under these noms de guerre each of these
young men concealed his family name. Athos in particular, who savored of the
noble a league off. He addressed himself then to Porthos, to gain
information respecting Athos and Aramis, and to Aramis, in order to learn
something of Porthos.
Unfortunately Porthos knew nothing of the life of his silent companion
but that which had transpired. It was said he had met with great crosses in
an affair of the heart, and that a frightful treachery had forever poisoned
the life of this gallant young man. What could this treachery be? All the
world was ignorant of it.
As to Porthos, except his real name, which no one but M. de Treville was
acquainted with, as well as with those of his two comrades, his life was very
easily known. Vain and indiscreet, it was as easy to see through him as
through a crystal. The only thing to mislead the investigator would have
been for him to believe all the good he said of himself.
With respect to Aramis, while having the air of having nothing secret
about him, he was a young fellow made up of mysteries, answering little to
questions put to him about others, and eluding those that concerned himself.
One day, D`Artagnan, having for a long time interrogated him about Porthos,
and having learned from him the report which prevailed concerning the bonne
fortune of the musketeer with a princess, wished to gain a little insight
into the amorous adventures of his interlocutor.
"And you, my dear companion," said he, "you who speak of the baronesses,
countesses, and princesses of others?"
"Pardieu! I spoke of them because Porthos talked of them himself,
because he has cried all these fine things before me. But, be assured, my
dear Monsieur D`Artagnan, that if I had obtained them from any other source,
or if they had been confided to me, there exists no confessor more discreet
than I am."
"Oh! I don`t doubt that," replied D`Artagnan; "but it seems to me that
you are tolerably familiar with coats of arms, a certain embroidered
handkerchief, for instance, to which I owe the honor of your acquaintance?"
This time Aramis was not angry, but assumed the most modest air, and
replied in a friendly tone:
"My dear friend, do not forget that I wish to belong to the church, and
that I avoid all mundane opportunities. The handkerchief you saw had not
been given to me, but it had been forgotten, and left at my house by one of
my friends. I was obliged to pick it up, in order not to compromise him and
the lady he loves. As for myself, I neither have nor desire to have a
mistress, following, in that respect, the very judicious example of Athos,
who has none, any more than I have."
"But, what the devil! you are not an abbe, you are a musketeer!"
"A musketeer for a time, my friend, as the cardinal says, a musketeer
against my will, but a churchman at heart, believe me. Athos and Porthos
dragged me into this to occupy me. I had, at the moment of being ordained,
a little difficulty with - But that would not interest you, and I am taking
up your valuable time."
"Oh! not at all; it interests me very much," cried D`Artagnan, "and at
this moment I have absolutely nothing to do."
"Yes, but I have my breviary to repeat," answered Aramis; "then some
verses to compose, which Madame d`Aiguillon begged of me. Then I must go to
Rue St. Honore, in order to purchase some rouge for Madame de Chevreuse: so
you see, my dear friend, that if you are not in a hurry, I am."
And Aramis held out his hand in a cordial manner to his young companion,
and took leave of him.
Notwithstanding all the pains he took, D`Artagnan was unable to learn
any more concerning his young friends. He formed, therefore, the resolution
of believing in the present all that was said of their past, hoping for more
certain and extended revelations from the future. In the meanwhile, he
looked upon Athos as an Achilles, Porthos as an Ajax, and Aramis as a Joseph.
As to the rest, the life of our four young friends was joyous enough.
Athos played, and that generally unfortunately. Nevertheless, he never
borrowed a sou of his companions, although his purse was ever at their
service; and when he had played upon honor, he always awakened his creditor
by six o`clock the next morning to pay the debt of the preceding evening.
Porthos played by fits: on the days he won he was insolent and
ostentatious; if he lost, he disappeared completely for several days, after
which he reappeared with a pale face and thinner person, but with money in
his purse.
As to Aramis, he never played. He was the worst musketeer and the most
unconvivial companion imaginable. He had always something or other to do.
Sometimes, in the midst of dinner, when every one, under the attraction of
wine and in the warmth of conversation, believed they had two or three hours
longer to enjoy themselves at table, Aramis looked at his watch, arose with
a bland smile, and took leave of the company, to go, as he said, to consult
a casuist with whom he had an appointment. At other times he would return
home to write a treatise, and requested his friends not to disturb him.
At this Athos would smile, with his charming, melancholy smile, which
so became his noble countenance, and Porthos would drink, swearing that
Aramis would never be anything but a village cure.
Planchet, D`Artagnan`s valet, supported his good fortune nobly; he
received thirty sous per day, and during a month he returned home gay as a
chaffinch, and affable toward his master. When the wind of adversity began
to blow upon the housekeeping of Rue des Fossoyeurs, that is to say, when the
forty pistoles of King Louis XIII. were consumed, or nearly so, he commenced
complaints which Athos thought nauseous, Porthos unseemly, and Aramis
ridiculous. Athos advised D`Artagnan to dismiss the fellow, Porthos was of
opinion that he should give him a good thrashing first, and Aramis contended
that a master should never attend to anything but the civilities paid him.
"This is all very easy for you to say," replied D`Artagnan; "for you,
Athos, who live like a dumb man with Grimaud, who forbid him to speak, and
consequently never exchange ill words with him; for you, Porthos, who carry
matters in such magnificent style, and are a god for your valet Mousqueton;
and for you, Aramis, who, always abstracted by your theological studies,
inspire your servant Bazin, a mild, religious man, with a profound respect;
but for me - who am without any settled means, and without resources - for
me, who am neither a musketeer, nor even a guard, what am I to do to inspire
either affection, terror, or respect in Planchet?"
"The thing is serious," answered the three friends; "it is a family
affair; it is with valets as with wives, they must be placed at once upon the
footing in which you wish them to remain. Reflect upon it."
D`Artagnan did reflect, and resolved to thrash Planchet in the interim,
which was executed with the conscience that D`Artagnan placed in everything;
then, after having well beaten him, he forbade him to leave his service
without his permission; for, added he, "the future cannot fail to mend; I
inevitably look for better times. Your fortune is therefore made if you
remain with me, and I am too good a master to allow you to miss such a chance
by granting you the dismissal you require."
This manner of acting created much respect for D`Artagnan`s policy among
the musketeers. Planchet was equally seized with admiration, and said no
more about going away.
The life of the four young men had become common; D`Artagnan, who had
no settled habits of his own, as he came from his province into the midst of
a world quite new to him, fell easily into the habits of his friends.
They rose about eight o`clock in the winter, about six in summer, and
went to take the orderly words and see how things went on at M. de
Treville`s. D`Artagnan, although he was not a musketeer, performed the duty
of one with remarkable punctuality: he went on guard, because he always kept
company with that one of his friends who mounted his. He was well known at
the hotel of the musketeers, where every one considered him a good comrade;
M. de Treville, who had appreciated him at the first glance, and who bore
him a real affection, never ceased recommending him to the king.
On their side, the three musketeers were much attached to their young
comrade. The friendship which united these four men, and the want they felt
of seeing each other three or four times a day, whether for duel, business,
or pleasure, caused them to be continually running after one another like
shadows, and the inseparables were constantly to be met with seeking each
other, from the Luxembourg to the Place Saint-Sulpice, or from the Rue du
Vieux-Colombier to the Luxembourg.
In the meanwhile the promises of M. de Treville went on prosperously.
One fine morning the king commanded M. le Chevalier Dessessarts to admit
D`Artagnan as a cadet in his company of guards. D`Artagnan, with a sigh,
donned his uniform, which he would have exchanged for that of a musketeer,
at the expense of ten years of his existence. But M. de Treville promised
this favor after a novitiate of two years, a novitiate which might, besides,
be abridged if an opportunity should present itself for D`Artagnan to render
the king any signal service, or to distinguish himself by some brilliant
action. Upon this promise D`Artagnan retired, and the next day entered upon
his duties.
Then it became the turn of Athos, Porthos and Aramis to mount guard with
D`Artagnan, when he was on duty. By admitting D`Artagnan, the company of M.
le Chevalier Dessessarts thus received four instead of one.
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