46 THE BASTION SAINT-GERVAIS
On arriving at the lodgings of his three friends, d’Artagnan found them assembled in the same chamber. Athos was meditating; Porthos was twisting his mustache; Aramis was saying his prayers in a charming little Book of Hours, bound in blue velvet.
“Pardieu, gentlemen,” said he. “I hope what you have to tell me is worth the trouble, or else, I warn you, I will not pardon you for making me come here instead of getting a little rest after a night spent in taking and dismantling a bastion. Ah, why were you not there, gentlemen? It was warm work.”
“We were in a place where it was not very cold,” replied Porthos, giving his mustache a twist which was peculiar to him.
“Hush!” said Athos.
“Oh, oh!” said d’Artagnan, comprehending the slight frown of the Musketeer. “It appears there is something fresh aboard.”
“Aramis,” said Athos, “you went to breakfast the day before yesterday at the inn of the Parpaillot, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“How did you fare?”
“For my part, I ate but little. The day before yesterday was a fish day, and they had nothing but meat.”
“What,” said Athos, “no fish at a seaport?”
“They say,” said Aramis, resuming his pious reading, “that the dyke which the cardinal is making drives them all out into the open sea.”
“But that is not quite what I mean to ask you, Aramis,” replied Athos. “I want to know if you were left alone, and nobody interrupted you.”
“Why, I think there were not many intruders. Yes, Athos, I know what you mean: we shall do very well at the Parpaillot.”
“Let us go to the Parpaillot, then, for here the walls are like sheets of paper.”
D’Artagnan, who was accustomed to his friend’s manner of acting, and who perceived immediately, by a word, a gesture, or a sign from him, that the circumstances were serious, took Athos’s arm, and went out without saying anything. Porthos followed, chatting with Aramis.
On their way they met Grimaud. Athos made him a sign to come with them. Grimaud, according to custom, obeyed in silence; the poor lad had nearly come to the pass of forgetting how to speak.
They arrived at the drinking room of the Parpaillot. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and daylight began to appear. The three friends ordered breakfast, and went into a room in which the host said they would not be disturbed.
Unfortunately, the hour was badly chosen for a private conference. The morning drum had just been beaten; everyone shook off the drowsiness of night, and to dispel the humid morning air, came to take a drop at the inn. Dragoons, Swiss, Guardsmen, Musketeers, light-horsemen, succeeded one another with a rapidity which might answer the purpose of the host very well, but agreed badly with the views of the four friends. Thus they applied very curtly to the salutations, healths, and jokes of their companions.
“I see how it will be,” said Athos: “we shall get into some pretty quarrel or other, and we have no need of one just now. D’Artagnan, tell us what sort of a night you have had, and we will describe ours afterward.”
“Ah, yes,” said a light-horseman, with a glass of brandy in his hand, which he sipped slowly. “I hear you gentlemen of the Guards have been in the trenches tonight, and that you did not get much the best of the Rochellais.”
D’Artagnan looked at Athos to know if he ought to reply to this intruder who thus mixed unasked in their conversation.
“Well,” said Athos, “don’t you hear Monsieur de Busigny, who does you the honor to ask you a question? Relate what has passed during the night, since these gentlemen desire to know it.”
“Have you not taken a bastion?” said a Swiss, who was drinking rum out of a beer glass.
“Yes, monsieur,” said d’Artagnan, bowing, “we have had that honor. We even have, as you may have heard, introduced a barrel of powder under one of the angles, which in blowing up made a very pretty breach. Without reckoning that as the bastion was not built yesterday all the rest of the building was badly shaken.”
“And what bastion is it?” asked a dragoon, with his saber run through a goose which he was taking to be cooked.
“The bastion St. Gervais,” replied d’Artagnan, “from behind which the Rochellais annoyed our workmen.”
“Was that affair hot?”
“Yes, moderately so. We lost five men, and the Rochellais eight or ten.”
“Balzempleu!” said the Swiss, who, notwithstanding the admirable collection of oaths possessed by the German language, had acquired a habit of swearing in French.
“But it is probable,” said the light-horseman, “that they will send pioneers this morning to repair the bastion.”
“Yes, that’s probable,” said d’Artagnan.
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “a wager!”
“Ah, wooi, a vager!” cried the Swiss.
“What is it?” said the light-horseman.
“Stop a bit,” said the dragoon, placing his saber like a spit upon the two large iron dogs which held the firebrands in the chimney, “stop a bit, I am in it. You cursed host! a dripping pan immediately, that I may not lose a drop of the fat of this estimable bird.”
“You was right,” said the Swiss; “goose grease is kood with basdry.”
“There!” said the dragoon. “Now for the wager! We listen, Monsieur Athos.”
“Yes, the wager!” said the light-horseman.
“Well, Monsieur de Busigny, I will bet you,” said Athos, “that my three companions, Messieurs Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan, and myself, will go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais, and we will remain there an hour, by the watch, whatever the enemy may do to dislodge us.”
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other; they began to comprehend.
“But,” said d’Artagnan, in the ear of Athos, “you are going to get us all killed without mercy.”
“We are much more likely to be killed,” said Athos, “if we do not go.”
“My faith, gentlemen,” said Porthos, turning round upon his chair and twisting his mustache, “that’s a fair bet, I hope.”
“I take it,” said M. de Busigny; “so let us fix the stake.”
“You are four gentlemen,” said Athos, “and we are four; an unlimited dinner for eight. Will that do?”
“Capitally,” replied M. de Busigny.
“Perfectly,” said the dragoon.
“That shoots me,” said the Swiss.
The fourth auditor, who during all this conversation had played a mute part, made a sign of the head in proof that he acquiesced in the proposition.
“The breakfast for these gentlemen is ready,” said the host.
“Well, bring it,” said Athos.
The host obeyed. Athos called Grimaud, pointed to a large basket which lay in a corner, and made a sign to him to wrap the viands up in the napkins.
Grimaud understood that it was to be a breakfast on the grass, took the basket, packed up the viands, added the bottles, and then took the basket on his arm.
“But where are you going to eat my breakfast?” asked the host.
“What matter, if you are paid for it?” said Athos, and he threw two pistoles majestically on the table.
“Shall I give you the change, my officer?” said the host.
“No, only add two bottles of champagne, and the difference will be for the napkins.”
The host had not quite so good a bargain as he at first hoped for, but he made amends by slipping in two bottles of Anjou wine instead of two bottles of champagne.
“Monsieur de Busigny,” said Athos, “will you be so kind as to set your watch with mine, or permit me to regulate mine by yours?”
“Which you please, monsieur!” said the light-horseman, drawing from his fob a very handsome watch, studded with diamonds; “half past seven.”
“Thirty-five minutes after seven,” said Athos, “by which you perceive I am five minutes faster than you.”
And bowing to all the astonished persons present, the young men took the road to the bastion St. Gervais, followed by Grimaud, who carried the basket, ignorant of where he was going but in the passive obedience which Athos had taught him not even thinking of asking.
As long as they were within the circle of the camp, the four friends did not exchange one word; besides, they were followed by the curious, who, hearing of the wager, were anxious to know how they would come out of it. But when once they passed the line of circumvallation and found themselves in the open plain, d’Artagnan, who was completely ignorant of what was going forward, thought it was time to demand an explanation.
“And now, my dear Athos,” said he, “do me the kindness to tell me where we are going?”
“Why, you see plainly enough we are going to the bastion.”
“But what are we going to do there?”
“You know well that we go to breakfast there.”
“But why did we not breakfast at the Parpaillot?”
“Because we have very important matters to communicate to one another, and it was impossible to talk five minutes in that inn without being annoyed by all those importunate fellows, who keep coming in, saluting you, and addressing you. Here at least,” said Athos, pointing to the bastion, “they will not come and disturb us.”
“It appears to me,” said d’Artagnan, with that prudence which allied itself in him so naturally with excessive bravery, “that we could have found some retired place on the downs or the seashore.”
“Where we should have been seen all four conferring together, so that at the end of a quarter of an hour the cardinal would have been informed by his spies that we were holding a council.”
“Yes,” said Aramis, “Athos is right: ANIMADVERTUNTUR IN DESERTIS.”
“A desert would not have been amiss,” said Porthos; “but it behooved us to find it.”
“There is no desert where a bird cannot pass over one’s head, where a fish cannot leap out of the water, where a rabbit cannot come out of its burrow, and I believe that bird, fish, and rabbit each becomes a spy of the cardinal. Better, then, pursue our enterprise; from which, besides, we cannot retreat without shame. We have made a wager-a wager which could not have been foreseen, and of which I defy anyone to divine the true cause. We are going, in order to win it, to remain an hour in the bastion. Either we shall be attacked, or not. If we are not, we shall have all the time to talk, and nobody will hear us-for I guarantee the walls of the bastion have no ears; if we are, we will talk of our affairs just the same. Moreover, in defending ourselves, we shall cover ourselves with glory. You see that everything is to our advantage.”
“Yes,” said d’Artagnan; “but we shall indubitably attract a ball.”
“Well, my dear,” replied Athos, “you know well that the balls most to be dreaded are not from the enemy.”
“But for such an expedition we surely ought to have brought our muskets.”
“You are stupid, friend Porthos. Why should we load ourselves with a useless burden?”
“I don’t find a good musket, twelve cartridges, and a powder flask very useless in the face of an enemy.”
“Well,” replied Athos, “have you not heard what d’Artagnan said?”
“What did he say?” demanded Porthos.
“d’Artagnan said that in the attack of last night eight or ten Frenchmen were killed, and as many Rochellais.”
“What then?”
“The bodies were not plundered, were they? It appears the conquerors had something else to do.”
“Well?”
“Well, we shall find their muskets, their cartridges, and their flasks; and instead of four musketoons and twelve balls, we shall have fifteen guns and a hundred charges to fire.”
“Oh, Athos!” said Aramis, “truly you are a great man.”
Porthos nodded in sign of agreement. D’Artagnan alone did not seem convinced.
Grimaud no doubt shared the misgivings of the young man, for seeing that they continued to advance toward the bastion-something he had till then doubted-he pulled his master by the skirt of his coat.
“Where are we going?” asked he, by a gesture.
Athos pointed to the bastion.
“But,” said Grimaud, in the same silent dialect, “we shall leave our skins there.”
Athos raised his eyes and his finger toward heaven.
Grimaud put his basket on the ground and sat down with a shake of the head.
Athos took a pistol from his belt, looked to see if it was properly primed, cocked it, and placed the muzzle close to Grimaud’s ear.
Grimaud was on his legs again as if by a spring. Athos then made him a sign to take up his basket and to walk on first. Grimaud obeyed. All that Grimaud gained by this momentary pantomime was to pass from the rear guard to the vanguard.
Arrived at the bastion, the four friends turned round.
More than three hundred soldiers of all kinds were assembled at the gate of the camp; and in a separate group might be distinguished M. de Busigny, the dragoon, the Swiss, and the fourth bettor.
Athos took off his hat, placed it on the end of his sword, and waved it in the air.
All the spectators returned him his salute, accompanying this courtesy with a loud hurrah which was audible to the four; after which all four disappeared in the bastion, whither Grimaud had preceded them.
47 THE COUNCIL OF THE MUSKETEERS
As Athos had foreseen, the bastion was only occupied by a dozen corpses, French and Rochellais.
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, who had assumed the command of the expedition, “while Grimaud spreads the table, let us begin by collecting the guns and cartridges together. We can talk while performing that necessary task. These gentlemen,” added he, pointing to the bodies, “cannot hear us.”
“But we could throw them into the ditch,” said Porthos, “after having assured ourselves they have nothing in their pockets.”
“Yes,” said Athos, “that’s Grimaud’s business.”
“Well, then,” cried d’Artagnan, “pray let Grimaud search them and throw them over the walls.”
“Heaven forfend!” said Athos; “they may serve us.”
“These bodies serve us?” said Porthos. “You are mad, dear friend.”
“Judge not rashly, say the gospel and the cardinal,” replied Athos. “How many guns, gentlemen?”
“Twelve,” replied Aramis.
“How many shots?”
“A hundred.”
“That’s quite as many as we shall want. Let us load the guns.”
The four Musketeers went to work; and as they were loading the last musket Grimaud announced that the breakfast was ready.
Athos replied, always by gestures, that that was well, and indicated to Grimaud, by pointing to a turret that resembled a pepper caster, that he was to stand as sentinel. Only, to alleviate the tediousness of the duty, Athos allowed him to take a loaf, two cutlets, and a bottle of wine.
“And now to table,” said Athos.
The four friends seated themselves on the ground with their legs crossed like Turks, or even tailors.
“And now,” said d’Artagnan, “as there is no longer any fear of being overheard, I hope you are going to let me into your secret.”
“I hope at the same time to procure you amusement and glory, gentlemen,” said Athos. “I have induced you to take a charming promenade; here is a delicious breakfast; and yonder are five hundred persons, as you may see through the loopholes, taking us for heroes or madmen-two classes of imbeciles greatly resembling each other.”
“But the secret!” said d’Artagnan.
“The secret is,” said Athos, “that I saw Milady last night.”
D’Artagnan was lifting a glass to his lips; but at the name of Milady, his hand trembled so, that he was obliged to put the glass on the ground again for fear of spilling the contents.”
“You saw your wi-”
“Hush!” interrupted Athos. “You forget, my dear, you forget that these gentlemen are not initiated into my family affairs like yourself. I have seen Milady.”
“Where?” demanded d’Artagnan.
“Within two leagues of this place, at the inn of the Red Dovecot.”
“In that case I am lost,” said d’Artagnan.
“Not so bad yet,” replied Athos; “for by this time she must have quit the shores of France.”
D’Artagnan breathed again.
“But after all,” asked Porthos, “who is Milady?”
“A charming woman!” said Athos, sipping a glass of sparkling wine. “Villainous host!” cried he, “he has given us Anjou wine instead of champagne, and fancies we know no better! Yes,” continued he, “a charming woman, who entertained kind views toward our friend d’Artagnan, who, on his part, has given her some offense for which she tried to revenge herself a month ago by having him killed by two musket shots, a week ago by trying to poison him, and yesterday by demanding his head of the cardinal.”
“What! by demanding my head of the cardinal?” cried d’Artagnan, pale with terror.
“Yes, that is true as the Gospel,” said Porthos; “I heard her with my own ears.”
“I also,” said Aramis.
“Then,” said d’Artagnan, letting his arm fall with discouragement, “it is useless to struggle longer. I may as well blow my brains out, and all will be over.”
“That’s the last folly to be committed,” said Athos, “seeing it is the only one for which there is no remedy.”
“But I can never escape,” said d’Artagnan, “with such enemies. First, my stranger of Meung; then de Wardes, to whom I have given three sword wounds; next Milady, whose secret I have discovered; finally, the cardinal, whose vengeance I have balked.”
“Well,” said Athos, “that only makes four; and we are four-one for one. Pardieu! if we may believe the signs Grimaud is making, we are about to have to do with a very different number of people. What is it, Grimaud? Considering the gravity of the occasion, I permit you to speak, my friend; but be laconic, I beg. What do you see?”
“A troop.”
“Of how many persons?”
“Twenty men.”
“What sort of men?”
“Sixteen pioneers, four soldiers.”
“How far distant?”
“Five hundred paces.”
“Good! We have just time to finish this fowl and to drink one glass of wine to your health, d’Artagnan.”
“To your health!” repeated Porthos and Aramis.
“Well, then, to my health! although I am very much afraid that your good wishes will not be of great service to me.”
“Bah!” said Athos, “God is great, as say the followers of Mohammed, and the future is in his hands.”
Then, swallowing the contents of his glass, which he put down close to him, Athos arose carelessly, took the musket next to him, and drew near to one of the loopholes.
Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan followed his example. As to Grimaud, he received orders to place himself behind the four friends in order to reload their weapons.
“Pardieu!” said Athos, “it was hardly worth while to distribute ourselves for twenty fellows armed with pickaxes, mattocks, and shovels. Grimaud had only to make them a sign to go away, and I am convinced they would have left us in peace.”
“I doubt that,” replied d’Artagnan, “for they are advancing very resolutely. Besides, in addition to the pioneers, there are four soldiers and a brigadier, armed with muskets.”
“That’s because they don’t see us,” said Athos.
“My faith,” said Aramis, “I must confess I feel a great repugnance to fire on these poor devils of civilians.”
“He is a bad priest,” said Porthos, “who has pity for heretics.”
“In truth,” said Athos, “Aramis is right. I will warn them.”
“What the devil are you going to do?” cried d’Artagnan, “you will be shot.”
But Athos heeded not his advice. Mounting on the breach, with his musket in one hand and his hat in the other, he said, bowing courteously and addressing the soldiers and the pioneers, who, astonished at this apparition, stopped fifty paces from the bastion: “Gentlemen, a few friends and myself are about to breakfast in this bastion. Now, you know nothing is more disagreeable than being disturbed when one is at breakfast. We request you, then, if you really have business here, to wait till we have finished our repast, or to come again a short time hence; unless, which would be far better, you form the salutary resolution to quit the side of the rebels, and come and drink with us to the health of the King of France.”
“Take care, Athos!” cried d’Artagnan; “don’t you see they are aiming?”
“Yes, yes,” said Athos; “but they are only civilians-very bad marksmen, who will be sure not to hit me.”
In fact, at the same instant four shots were fired, and the balls were flattened against the wall around Athos, but not one touched him.
Four shots replied to them almost instantaneously, but much better aimed than those of the aggressors; three soldiers fell dead, and one of the pioneers was wounded.
“Grimaud,” said Athos, still on the breach, “another musket!”
Grimaud immediately obeyed. On their part, the three friends had reloaded their arms; a second discharge followed the first. The brigadier and two pioneers fell dead; the rest of the troop took to flight.
“Now, gentlemen, a sortie!” cried Athos.
And the four friends rushed out of the fort, gained the field of battle, picked up the four muskets of the privates and the half-pike of the brigadier, and convinced that the fugitives would not stop till they reached the city, turned again toward the bastion, bearing with them the trophies of their victory.
“Reload the muskets, Grimaud,” said Athos, “and we, gentlemen, will go on with our breakfast, and resume our conversation. Where were we?”
“I recollect you were saying,” said d’Artagnan, “that after having demanded my head of the cardinal, Milady had quit the shores of France. Whither goes she?” added he, strongly interested in the route Milady followed.
“She goes into England,” said Athos.
“With what view?”
“With the view of assassinating, or causing to be assassinated, the Duke of Buckingham.”
D’Artagnan uttered an exclamation of surprise and indignation.
“But this is infamous!” cried he.
“As to that,” said Athos, “I beg you to believe that I care very little about it. Now you have done, Grimaud, take our brigadier’s half-pike, tie a napkin to it, and plant it on top of our bastion, that these rebels of Rochellais may see that they have to deal with brave and loyal soldiers of the king.”
Grimaud obeyed without replying. An instant afterward, the white flag was floating over the heads of the four friends. A thunder of applause saluted its appearance; half the camp was at the barrier.
“How?” replied d’Artagnan, “you care little if she kills Buckingham or causes him to be killed? But the duke is our friend.”
“The duke is English; the duke fights against us. Let her do what she likes with the duke; I care no more about him than an empty bottle.” And Athos threw fifteen paces from him an empty bottle from which he had poured the last drop into his glass.
“A moment,” said d’Artagnan. “I will not abandon Buckingham thus. He gave us some very fine horses.”
“And moreover, very handsome saddles,” said Porthos, who at the moment wore on his cloak the lace of his own.
“Besides,” said Aramis, “God desires the conversion and not the death of a sinner.”
“Amen!” said Athos, “and we will return to that subject later, if such be your pleasure; but what for the moment engaged my attention most earnestly, and I am sure you will understand me, d’Artagnan, was the getting from this woman a kind of carte blanche which she had extorted from the cardinal, and by means of which she could with impunity get rid of you and perhaps of us.”
“But this creature must be a demon!” said Porthos, holding out his plate to Aramis, who was cutting up a fowl.
“And this carte blanche,” said d’Artagnan, “this carte blanche, does it remain in her hands?”
“No, it passed into mine; I will not say without trouble, for if I did I should tell a lie.”
“My dear Athos, I shall no longer count the number of times I am indebted to you for my life.”
“Then it was to go to her that you left us?” said Aramis.
“Exactly.”
“And you have that letter of the cardinal?” said d’Artagnan.
“Here it is,” said Athos; and he took the invaluable paper from the pocket of his uniform. D’Artagnan unfolded it with one hand, whose trembling he did not even attempt to conceal, to read:
“Dec. 3, 1627
“It is by my order and for the good of the state that the bearer of this has done what he has done.
“RICHELIEU”
“In fact,” said Aramis, “it is an absolution according to rule.”
“That paper must be torn to pieces,” said d’Artagnan, who fancied he read in it his sentence of death.
“On the contrary,” said Athos, “it must be preserved carefully. I would not give up this paper if covered with as many gold pieces.”
“And what will she do now?” asked the young man.
“Why,” replied Athos, carelessly, “she is probably going to write to the cardinal that a damned Musketeer, named Athos, has taken her safe-conduct from her by force; she will advise him in the same letter to get rid of his two friends, Aramis and Porthos, at the same time. The cardinal will remember that these are the same men who have often crossed his path; and then some fine morning he will arrest d’Artagnan, and for fear he should feel lonely, he will send us to keep him company in the Bastille.”
“Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear,” said Porthos.
“I do not jest,” said Athos.
“Do you know,” said Porthos, “that to twist that damned Milady’s neck would be a smaller sin than to twist those of these poor devils of Huguenots, who have committed no other crime than singing in French the psalms we sing in Latin?”
“What says the abbe?” asked Athos, quietly.
“I say I am entirely of Porthos’s opinion,” replied Aramis.
“And I, too,” said d’Artagnan.
“Fortunately, she is far off,” said Porthos, “for I confess she would worry me if she were here.”
“She worries me in England as well as in France,” said Athos.
“She worries me everywhere,” said d’Artagnan.
“But when you held her in your power, why did you not drown her, strangle her, hang her?” said Porthos. “It is only the dead who do not return.”
“You think so, Porthos?” replied the Musketeer, with a sad smile which d’Artagnan alone understood.
“I have an idea,” said d’Artagnan.
“What is it?” said the Musketeers.
“To arms!” cried Grimaud.
The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets.
This time a small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty to twenty-five men; but they were not pioneers, they were soldiers of the garrison.
“Shall we return to the camp?” said Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are equal.”
“Impossible, for three reasons,” replied Athos. “The first, that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we still have some very important things to say; and the third, that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour.”
“Well, then,” said Aramis, “we must form a plan of battle.”
“That’s very simple,” replied Athos. “As soon as the enemy are within musket shot, we must fire upon them. If they continue to advance, we must fire again. We must fire as long as we have loaded guns. If those who remain of the troop persist in coming to the assault, we will allow the besiegers to get as far as the ditch, and then we will push down upon their heads that strip of wall which keeps its perpendicular by a miracle.”
“Bravo!” cried Porthos. “Decidedly, Athos, you were born to be a general, and the cardinal, who fancies himself a great soldier, is nothing beside you.”
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “no divided attention, I beg; let each one pick out his man.”
“I cover mine,” said d’Artagnan.
“And I mine,” said Porthos.
“And I mine,” said Aramis.
“Fire, then,” said Athos.
The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell.
The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at charging pace.
Then the shots were repeated without regularity, but always aimed with the same accuracy. Nevertheless, as if they had been aware of the numerical weakness of the friends, the Rochellais continued to advance in quick time.
With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march of those who remained was not slackened.
Arrived at the foot of the bastion, there were still more than a dozen of the enemy. A last discharge welcomed them, but did not stop them; they jumped into the ditch, and prepared to scale the breach.
“Now, my friends,” said Athos, “finish them at a blow. To the wall; to the wall!”
And the four friends, seconded by Grimaud, pushed with the barrels of their muskets an enormous sheet of the wall, which bent as if pushed by the wind, and detaching itself from its base, fell with a horrible crash into the ditch. Then a fearful crash was heard; a cloud of dust mounted toward the sky-and all was over!
“Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the last?” said Athos.
“My faith, it appears so!” said d’Artagnan.
“No,” cried Porthos; “there go three or four, limping away.”
In fact, three or four of these unfortunate men, covered with dirt and blood, fled along the hollow way, and at length regained the city. These were all who were left of the little troop.
Athos looked at his watch.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “we have been here an hour, and our wager is won; but we will be fair players. Besides, d’Artagnan has not told us his idea yet.”
And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself before the remains of the breakfast.
“My idea?” said d’Artagnan.
“Yes; you said you had an idea,” said Athos.
“Oh, I remember,” said d’Artagnan. “Well, I will go to England a second time; I will go and find Buckingham.”
“You shall not do that, d’Artagnan,” said Athos, coolly.
“And why not? Have I not been there once?”
“Yes; but at that period we were not at war. At that period Buckingham was an ally, and not an enemy. What you would now do amounts to treason.”
D’Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was silent.
“But,” said Porthos, “I think I have an idea, in my turn.”
“Silence for Monsieur Porthos’s idea!” said Aramis.
“I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Treville, on some pretext or other which you must invent; I am not very clever at pretexts. Milady does not know me; I will get access to her without her suspecting me, and when I catch my beauty, I will strangle her.”
“Well,” replied Athos, “I am not far from approving the idea of Monsieur Porthos.”
“For shame!” said Aramis. “Kill a woman? No, listen to me; I have the true idea.”
“Let us see your idea, Aramis,” said Athos, who felt much deference for the young Musketeer.
“We must inform the queen.”
“Ah, my faith, yes!” said Porthos and d’Artagnan, at the same time; “we are coming nearer to it now.”
“Inform the queen!” said Athos; “and how? Have we relations with the court? Could we send anyone to Paris without its being known in the camp? From here to Paris it is a hundred and forty leagues; before our letter was at Angers we should be in a dungeon.”
“As to remitting a letter with safety to her Majesty,” said Aramis, coloring, “I will take that upon myself. I know a clever person at Tours-”
Aramis stopped on seeing Athos smile.