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The Three Musketeers. Alexandre Dumas
Читать онлайн.Название The Three Musketeers
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007373468
Автор произведения Alexandre Dumas
Жанр Классическая проза
Издательство HarperCollins
“Most willingly,” replied M. de la Tremouille, “but I tell you beforehand that I have full information, and am satisfied all the blame rests with your musketeers.”
“You are too just a man, sir, and too reasonable,” observed M. de Treville, “not to accept the proposition I shall now make to you.”
“Proceed, sir; I will hear it.”
“How is M. Bernajoux, the relative of your equerry?”
“Why, sir,” replied Tremouille, “he is very ill indeed. Besides the wound which he received in the arm, and which is not dangerous, he has also received another, which has passed through his lungs; so that the physician gives but a poor account of him.”
“But does the wounded man retain his senses?” inquired Treville.
“Perfectly.”
“Can he speak?”
“With difficulty; but still he can speak.”
“Well, then, sir, let us interview him. Let us adjure him in the name of that God before whom, perhaps, he is about to appear, to tell the truth. I will acknowledge him as the judge, even in his own cause; and I will abide by his explanation.”
M. de la Tremouille reflected for a moment, and as it would have been difficult to conceive a more reasonable proposition, he agreed to it.
They therefore proceeded together to the chamber of the wounded man, who, when he saw them enter his apartment, endeavoured to raise himself in bed; but being too feeble, and, exhausted by the effort, he fell back, almost insensible.
M. de la Tremouille approached his bed, and by the application of some smelling-salts, restored him to consciousness. Then, in order to avoid any future imputation of having influenced the guardsman, M. de la Tremouille invited M. de Treville to question him himself.
The result was as M. de Treville had foreseen. Lingering as he was between life and death, Bernajoux had not the slightest idea of concealing the truth, and therefore gave a true narration of the occurrence. This was all that M. de Treville required; so wishing Bernajoux a speedy recovery, he took leave of M. de la Tremouille; and having regained his own hotel, he immediately summoned the four friends to dine with him.
M. de Treville received the best company; but, of course, all were anti-cardinalists. It may be readily imagined, therefore, that the conversation turned upon the two defeats which the cardinal’s guards had sustained; and as d’Artagnan had been the hero of the last two days, he received all the congratulations; which Athos, Porthos, and Aramis yielded to him with pleasure, not only as true comrades, but as men who had had their turn too often not to let him have his.
About six o’clock, M. de Treville announced his intention of proceeding to the Louvre; but, as the original hour of audience was past, instead of obtaining admission by the private staircase, he placed himself in the antechamber, with the four young men. The king was not yet returned from the chase; but our friends had scarcely waited half an hour amongst the crowd of courtiers, before the doors were opened, and his majesty was announced.
This announcement caused d’Artagnan to shudder with emotion. The important moment was arrived upon which, in all probability, his future fate depended. His eyes, therefore, were fixed with intense anxiety on the door through which the king was about to enter.
Louis XIII. appeared, followed by his attendants. He was attired in his hunting-dress, still covered with dust; he was heavily booted; and in his hand he held his riding-whip. At the first glance, d’Artagnan perceived that the king was in a violent rage. This humour, though distinctly visible in his majesty’s features, did not prevent the courtiers from ranging themselves along the sides of the room; and as, in the royal antechamber, it is better to be seen by an irritable and angry eye, than not to be seen at all, the three musketeers did not hesitate to step forward, although d’Artagnan, on his part, concealed himself behind them as much as possible. Yet though Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were personally known to the king, he passed on as if he had never seen them before, without either looking at or addressing them. But when his eyes rested for a moment upon M. de Treville, the latter met them with so much firmness, that the king turned aside his gaze, and, muttering to himself, entered his apartment.
“The aspects are unfavourable,” said Athos smiling; “we shall not be knighted this time.”
“Wait here ten minutes,” said M. de Treville, “and if I do not return to you in that time, proceed to my hotel as it will be useless for you to wait longer for me.”
The young men waited ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, even twenty minutes; and then, finding that M. de Treville did not return, they departed, very uneasy with the turn things were taking.
M. de Treville, who had boldly entered the royal cabinet, found his majesty in a very bad humour; he was seated in an arm-chair, venting his irritation by striking his boots with the handle of his whip. This, however, M. de Treville did not appear to notice, but with the utmost composure he inquired after his majesty’s health.
“Bad, very bad,” replied the king. “I am dull and dispirited.”
This was, in fact, the worst malady of Louis XIII., who often withdrew to a window with one of his courtiers, saying to him, “Come, sir, let us be bored together.”
“I regret to find your majesty thus,” said M. de Treville. “Have you not, then, enjoyed the pleasure of the chase?”
“A fine pleasure, truly! By my faith, all goes to ruin, and I know not whether it is the game that is no longer so swift a-foot, or the dogs that have no noses. We roused a stag of ten tines; we ran him for six hours; and when we were on the point of taking him, and just as Saint Simon was about to place his horn to his mouth, to sound the ‘mort’—crac, all the pack went off on the wrong scent, in pursuit of a brocket. You will thus see that I must now renounce the chase with hounds, as I have already relinquished it with falcons. Ah! I am a most unhappy king, M. de Treville; I had only one ger-falcon remaining, and he died yesterday.”
“Truly, sire, I can estimate your misfortune; it is, indeed, very great; but there are yet, I believe, a goodly number of falcons, hawks, and tercels, remaining.”
“But who is to train them? The falconers are all gone; and I alone now preserve the true art of venery. With me, all will be lost, and the game will hereafter be taken by snares, pitfalls, and traps. Oh! had I only leisure to instruct scholars! But then there is the cardinal, who never leaves me any leisure, and who is ever talking to me of Spain, of Austria, and of England! But apropos of the cardinal, I am very angry with you, M. de Treville.”
The latter had anticipated this turn of the conversation. From his long and intimate knowledge of the king, he was well aware that complaints of this nature were only a sort of prelude, as it were, to arouse his majesty’s courage to the proper pitch, which he had on this occasion attained.
“In what have I had the misfortune to offend your majesty?” inquired M. de Treville, feigning the utmost astonishment.
“Is it thus that you discharge your office, sir?” continued the king, answering one question by another; “was it for this that I created you captain of my musketeers—that they should assassinate a man, excite a whole neighbourhood, and threaten to burn all Paris, without your saying a word to me on the subject? However,” added the king, “without doubt you have come here to accuse yourself, and, having committed all the rioters to safe custody, inform me that justice has been satisfied.”
“Sire,” said M. de Treville, with the utmost composure, “I am, on the contrary, come to demand justice.”
“And against whom?” exclaimed the king.
“Against calumniators!” replied M. de Treville.
“Ah! this is something quite new,” rejoined the king. “Do you pretend to say that your three confounded musketeers,