discover to you the secrets of our policy. The king and the cardinal are the best of friends; their apparent bickerings are only feints to deceive fools. I am not willing that a compatriot, a handsome cavalier, a brave youth, quite fit to make his way, should become the dupe of all these artifices and fall into the snare after the example of so many others who have been ruined by it. Be assured that I am devoted to both these all-powerful masters, and that my earnest endeavors have no other aim than the service of the king, and also the cardinal—one of the most illustrious geniuses that France has ever produced.
“Now, young man, regulate your conduct accordingly; and if you entertain, whether from your family, your relations, or even from your instincts, any of these enmities which we see constantly breaking out against the cardinal, bid me adieu and let us separate. I will aid you in many ways, but without attaching you to my person. I hope that my frankness at least will make you my friend; for you are the only young man to whom I have hitherto spoken as I have done to you.”
Treville said to himself: “If the cardinal has set this young fox upon me, he will certainly not have failed—he, who knows how bitterly I execrate him—to tell his spy that the best means of making his court to me is to rail at him. Therefore, in spite of all my protestations, if it be as I suspect, my cunning gossip will assure me that he holds his Eminence in horror.”
It, however, proved otherwise. D’Artagnan answered, with the greatest simplicity: “I came to Paris with exactly such intentions. My father advised me to stoop to nobody but the king, the cardinal, and yourself—whom he considered the first three personages in France.”
D’Artagnan added M. de Treville to the others, as may be perceived; but he thought this addition would do no harm.
“I have the greatest veneration for the cardinal,” continued he, “and the most profound respect for his actions. So much the better for me, sir, if you speak to me, as you say, with frankness—for then you will do me the honor to esteem the resemblance of our opinions; but if you have entertained any doubt, as naturally you may, I feel that I am ruining myself by speaking the truth. But I still trust you will not esteem me the less for it, and that is my object beyond all others.”
M de Treville was surprised to the greatest degree. So much penetration, so much frankness, created admiration, but did not entirely remove his suspicions. The more this young man was superior to others, the more he was to be dreaded if he meant to deceive him. Nevertheless, he pressed d’Artagnan’s hand, and said to him: “You are an honest youth; but at the present moment I can only do for you that which I just now offered. My hotel will be always open to you. Hereafter, being able to ask for me at all hours, and consequently to take advantage of all opportunities, you will probably obtain that which you desire.”
“That is to say,” replied d’Artagnan, “that you will wait until I have proved myself worthy of it. Well, be assured,” added he, with the familiarity of a Gascon, “you shall not wait long.” And he bowed in order to retire, and as if he considered the future in his own hands.
“But wait a minute,” said M. de Treville, stopping him. “I promised you a letter for the director of the Academy. Are you too proud to accept it, young gentleman?”
“No, sir,” said d’Artagnan; “and I will guard it so carefully that I will be sworn it shall arrive at its address, and woe be to him who shall attempt to take it from me!”
M de Treville smiled at this flourish; and leaving his young man compatriot in the embrasure of the window, where they had talked together, he seated himself at a table in order to write the promised letter of recommendation. While he was doing this, d’Artagnan, having no better employment, amused himself with beating a march upon the window and with looking at the Musketeers, who went away, one after another, following them with his eyes until they disappeared.
M de Treville, after having written the letter, sealed it, and rising, approached the young man in order to give it to him. But at the very moment when d’Artagnan stretched out his hand to receive it, M. de Treville was highly astonished to see his protege make a sudden spring, become crimson with passion, and rush from the cabinet crying, “S’blood, he shall not escape me this time!”
“And who?” asked M. de Treville.
“He, my thief!” replied d’Artagnan. “Ah, the traitor!” and he disappeared.
“The devil take the madman!” murmured M. de Treville, “unless,” added he, “this is a cunning mode of escaping, seeing that he had failed in his purpose!”
4 THE SHOULDER OF ATHOS, THE BALDRIC OF PORTHOS AND THE HANDKERCHIEF OF ARAMIS
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D’ARTAGNAN, IN A STATE of fury, crossed the antechamber at three bounds, and was darting toward the stairs, which he reckoned upon descending four at a time, when, in his heedless course, he ran head foremost against a Musketeer who was coming out of one of M. de Treville’s private rooms, and striking his shoulder violently, made him utter a cry, or rather a howl.
“Excuse me,” said d’Artagnan, endeavoring to resume his course, “excuse me, but I am in a hurry.”
Scarcely had he descended the first stair, when a hand of iron seized him by the belt and stopped him.
“You are in a hurry?” said the Musketeer, as pale as a sheet. “Under that pretense you run against me! You say, ‘Excuse me,’ and you believe that is sufficient? Not at all, my young man. Do you fancy because you have heard Monsieur de Treville speak to us a little cavalierly today that other people are to treat us as he speaks to us? Undeceive yourself, comrade, you are not Monsieur de Treville.”
“My faith!” replied d’Artagnan, recognizing Athos, who, after the dressing performed by the doctor, was returning to his own apartment. “I did not do it intentionally, and not doing it intentionally, I said ‘Excuse me.’ It appears to me that this is quite enough. I repeat to you, however, and this time on my word of honor—I think perhaps too often—that I am in haste, great haste. Leave your hold, then, I beg of you, and let me go where my business calls me.”
“Monsieur,” said Athos, letting him go, “you are not polite; it is easy to perceive that you come from a distance.”
D’Artagnan had already strode down three or four stairs, but at Athos’s last remark he stopped short.
“MORBLEU, monsieur!” said he, “however far I may come, it is not you who can give me a lesson in good manners, I warn you.”
“Perhaps,” said Athos.
“Ah! If I were not in such haste, and if I were not running after someone,” said d’Artagnan.
“Monsieur Man-in-a-hurry, you can find me without running—ME, you understand?”
“And where, I pray you?”
“Near the Carmes-Deschaux.”
“At what hour?”
“About noon.”
“About noon? That will do; I will be there.”
“Endeavor not to make me wait; for at quarter past twelve I will cut off your ears as you run.”
“Good!” cried d’Artagnan, “I will be there ten minutes before twelve.” And he set off running as if the devil possessed him, hoping that he might yet find the stranger, whose slow pace could not have carried him far.
But at the street gate, Porthos was talking with the soldier on guard. Between the two talkers there was just enough room for a man to pass. D’Artagnan thought it would suffice for him, and he sprang forward like a dart between them. But d’Artagnan had reckoned without the wind. As he