THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TREVILLE

M. de Troisville, as his family was still called in Gascony, or

M. de Treville, as he has ended by styling himself in Paris, had

really commenced life as D`Artagnan now did; that is to say,

without a sou in his pocket, but with a fund of audacity,

shrewdness, and intelligence which makes the poorest Gascon

gentleman often derive more in his hope from the paternal

inheritance than the richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentleman

derives in reality from his. His insolent bravery, his still

more insolent success at a time when blows poured down like hail,

had borne him to the top of that difficult ladder called Court

Favor, which he had climbed four steps at a time.

He was the friend of the king, who honored highly, as everyone

knows, the memory of his father, Henry IV. The father of M. de

Treville had served him so faithfully in his wars against the

league that in default of money--a thing to which the Bearnais

was accustomed all his life, and who constantly paid his debts

with that of which he never stood in need of borrowing, that is

to say, with ready wit--in default of money, we repeat, he

authorized him, after the reduction of Paris, to assume for his

arms a golden lion passant upon gules, with the motto Fidelis et

fortis. This was a great matter in the way of honor, but very

little in the way of wealth; so that when the illustrious

companion of the great Henry died, the only inheritance he was

able to leave his son was his sword and his motto. Thanks to

this double gift and the spotless name that accompanied it, M. de

Treville was admitted into the household of the young prince

where he made such good use of his sword, and was so faithful to

his motto, that Louis XIII, one of the good blades of his

kingdom, was accustomed to say that if he had a friend who was

about to fight, he would advise him to choose as a second,

himself first, and Treville next--or even, perhaps, before

himself.

Thus Louis XIII had a real liking for Treville--a royal liking, a

self-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that

unhappy period it was an important consideration to be surrounded

by such men as Treville. Many might take for their device the

epithet STRONG, which formed the second part of his motto, but

very few gentlemen could lay claim to the FAITHFUL, which

constituted the first. Treville was one of these latter. His

was one of those rare organizations, endowed with an obedient

intelligence like that of the dog; with a blind valor, a quick

eye, and a prompt hand; to whom sight appeared only to be given

to see if the king were dissatisfied with anyone, and the hand to

strike this displeasing personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers,

a Poltiot de Mere, or a Vitry. In short, up to this period

nothing had been wanting to Treville but opportunity; but he was

ever on the watch for it, and he faithfully promised himself that

he would not fail to seize it by its three hairs whenever it came

within reach of his hand. At last Louis XIII made Treville the

captain of his Musketeers, who were to Louis XIII in devotedness,

or rather in fanaticism, what his Ordinaries had been to Henry

III, and his Scotch Guard to Louis XI.

On his part, the cardinal was not behind the king in this

respect. When he saw the formidable and chosen body with which

Louis XIII had surrounded himself, this second, or rather this

first king of France, became desirous that he, too, should have

his guard. He had his Musketeers therefore, as Louis XIII had

his, and these two powerful rivals vied with each other in

procuring, not only from all the provinces of France, but even

from all foreign states, the most celebrated swordsmen. It was

not uncommon for Richelieu and Louis XIII to dispute over their

evening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. Each

boasted the bearing and the courage of his own people. While

exclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited them

secretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction or

genuine regret from the success or defeat of their own

combatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a man who was

concerned in some few of these defeats and in many of these

victories.

Treville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was to

this address that he owed the long and constant favor of a king

who has not left the reputation behind him of being very faithful

in his friendships. He paraded his Musketeers before the

Cardinal Armand Duplessis with an insolent air which made the

gray moustache of his Eminence curl with ire. Treville

understood admirably the war method of that period, in which he

who could not live at the expense of the enemy must live at the

expense of his compatriots. His soldiers formed a legion of

devil-may-care fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all but

himself.

Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the king`s Musketeers, or rather M.

de Treville`s, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the

public walks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting their

mustaches, clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure in

annoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall in

with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the

best of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that

case to be both wept and avenged; often killing others, but then

certain of not rotting in prison, M. de Treville being there to

claim them. Thus M. de Treville was praised to the highest note

by these men, who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were,

trembled before him like scholars before their master, obedient

to his least word, and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out

the smallest insult.

M. de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in the

first place, and the friends of the king--and then for himself

and his own friends. For the rest, in the memoirs of this

period, which has left so many memoirs, one does not find this

worthy gentleman blamed even by his enemies; and he had many such

among men of the pen as well as among men of the sword. In no

instance, let us say, was this worthy gentleman accused of

deriving personal advantage from the cooperation of his minions.

Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered him the

equal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest man. Still

further, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful

exercises which fatigue, he had become one of the most gallant

frequenters of revels, one of the most insinuating lady`s men,

one of the softest whisperers of interesting nothings of his

day; the BONNES FORTUNES of De Treville were talked of as those

of M. de Bassompierre had been talked of twenty years before, and

that was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketeers was

therefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes the

zenith of human fortune.

Louis XIV absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his own

vast radiance; but his father, a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, left his

personal splendor to each of his favorites, his individual value

to each of his courtiers. In addition to the leeves of the king

and the cardinal, there might be reckoned in Paris at that time

more than two hundred smaller but still noteworthy leeves. Among

these two hundred leeves, that of Treville was one of the most

sought.

The court of his hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier,

resembled a camp from by six o`clock in the morning in summer and

eight o`clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketeers, who

appeared to replace one another in order always to present an

imposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and ready

for anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon whose

space modern civilization would build a whole house. Ascended and

descended the office seekers of Paris, who ran after any sort of

favor--gentlemen from the provinces anxious to be enrolled, and

servants in all sorts of liveries, bringing and carrying messages

between their masters and M. de Treville. In the antechamber,

upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that is to say,

those who were called. In this apartment a continued buzzing

prevailed from morning till night, while M. de Treville, in his

office contiguous to this antechamber, received visits, listened

to complaints, gave his orders, and like the king in his balcony

at the Louvre, had only to place himself at the window to review

both his men and arms.

The day on which D`Artagnan presented himself the assemblage was

imposing, particularly for a provincial just arriving from his

province. It is true that this provincial was a Gascon; and

that, particularly at this period, the compatriots of D`Artagnan

had the reputation of not being easily intimidated. When he had

once passed the massive door covered with long square-headed

nails, he fell into the midst of a troop of swordsmen, who

crossed one another in their passage, calling out, quarreling,

and playing tricks one with another. In order to make one`s way

amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was necessary to

be an officer, a great noble, or a pretty woman.

It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that our

young man advanced with a beating heat, ranging his long rapier

up his lanky leg, and keeping one hand on the edge of his cap,

with that half-smile of the embarrassed a provincial who wishes

to put on a good face. When he had passed one group he began to

breathe more freely; but he could not help observing that they

turned round to look at him, and for the first time in his life

D`Artagnan, who had till that day entertained a very good opinion

of himself, felt ridiculous.

Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four

Musketeers on the bottom steps, amusing themselves with the

following exercise, while ten or twelve of their comrades waited

upon the landing place to take their turn in the sport.

One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in hand,

prevented, or at least endeavored to prevent, the three others

from ascending.

These three others fenced against him with their agile swords.

D`Artagnan at first took these weapons for foils, and believed

them to be buttoned; but he soon perceived by certain scratches

that every weapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each of

these scratches not only the spectators, but even the actors

themselves, laughed like so many madmen.

He who at the moment occupied the upper step kept his adversaries

marvelously in check. A circle was formed around them. The

conditions required that at every hit the man touched should quit

the game, yielding his turn for the benefit of the adversary who

had hit him. In five minutes three were slightly wounded, one on

the hand, another on the ear, by the defender of the stair, who

himself remained intact--a piece of skill which was worth to him,

according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of favor,

However difficult it might be, or rather as he pretended it was,

to astonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonished

him. He had seen in his province--that land in which heads

become so easily heated--a few of the preliminaries of duels; but

the daring of these four fencers appeared to him the strongest he

had ever heard of even in Gascony. He believed himself

transported into that famous country of giants into which

Gulliver afterward went and was so frightened; and yet he had not

gained the goal, for there were still the landing place and the

antechamber.

On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused

themselves with stories about women, and in the antechamber, with

stories about the court. On the landing D`Artagnan blushed; in

the antechamber he trembled. His warm and fickle imagination,

which in Gascony had rendered formidable to young chambermaids,

and even sometimes their mistresses, had never dreamed, even in

moments of delirium, of half the amorous wonders or a quarter of

the feats of gallantry which were here set forth in connection

with names the best known and with details the least concealed.

But if his morals were shocked on the landing, his respect for

the cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber. There, to his

great astonishment, D`Artagnan heard the policy which made all

Europe tremble criticized aloud and openly, as well as the

private life of the cardinal, which so many great nobles had been

punished for trying to pry into. That great man who was so

revered by D`Artagnan the elder served as an object of ridicule

to the Musketeers of Treville, who cracked their jokes upon his

bandy legs and his crooked back. Some sang ballads about Mme.

d`Aguillon, his mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, his niece; while

others formed parties and plans to annoy the pages and guards of

the cardinal duke--all things which appeared to D`Artagnan

monstrous impossibilities.

Nevertheless, when the name of the king was now and then uttered

unthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag seemed

to close for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They looked

hesitatingly around them, and appeared to doubt the thickness of

the partition between them and the office of M. de Treville; but

a fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation to his

Eminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and the

light was not withheld from any of his actions.

"Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged,"

thought the terrified D`Artagnan, "and I, no doubt, with them;

for from the moment I have either listened to or heard them, I

shall be held as an accomplice. What would my good father say,

who so strongly pointed out to me the respect due to the

cardinal, if he knew I was in the society of such pagans?"

We have no need, therefore, to say that D`Artagnan dared not join

in the conversation, only he looked with all his eyes and

listened with all his ears, stretching his five senses so as to

lose nothing; and despite his confidence on the paternal

admonitions, he felt himself carried by his tastes and led by his

instincts to praise rather than to blame the unheard-of things

which were taking place.

Although he was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de

Treville`s courtiers, and this his first appearance in that

place, he was at length noticed, and somebody came and asked him

what he wanted. At this demand D`Artagnan gave his name very

modestly, emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged the

servant who had put the question to him to request a moment`s

audience of M. de Treville--a request which the other, with an

air of protection, promised to transmit in due season.

D`Artagnan, a little recovered from his first surprise, had now

leisure to study costumes and physiognomy.

The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of great

height and haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so peculiar

as to attract general attention. He did not wear the uniform

cloak--which was not obligatory at that epoch of less liberty but

more independence--but a cerulean-blue doublet, a little faded and

worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, which

shone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of crimson

velvet fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, disclosing in

front the splendid baldric, from which was suspended a gigantic

rapier. This Musketeer had just come off guard, complained of

having a cold, and coughed from time to time affectedly. It was

for this reason, as he said to those around him, that he had put

on his cloak; and while he spoke with a lofty air and twisted his

mustache disdainfully, all admired his embroidered baldric, and

D`Artagnan more than anyone.

"What would you have?" said the Musketeer. "This fashion is

coming in. It is a folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion.

Besides, one must lay out one`s inheritance somehow."

"Ah, Porthos!" cried one of his companions, "don`t try to make us

believe you obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was

given to you by that veiled lady I met you with the other Sunday,

near the gate St. Honor‚."

"No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentleman, I bought it with

the contents of my own purse," answered he whom they designated

by the name Porthos.

"Yes; about in the same manner," said another Musketeer, "that I

bought this new purse with what my mistress put into the old

one."

"It`s true, though," said Porthos; "and the proof is that I paid

twelve pistoles for it."

The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to exist.

"Is it not true, Aramis?" said Porthos, turning toward another

Musketeer.

This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to his

interrogator, who had just designated him by the name of Aramis.

He was a stout man, of about two- or three-and-twenty, with an

open, ingenuous countenance, a black, mild eye, and cheeks rosy

and downy as an autumn peach. His delicate mustache marked a

perfectly straight line upon his upper lip; he appeared to dread

to lower his hands lest their veins should swell, and he pinched

the tips of his ears from time to time to preserve their delicate

pink transparency. Habitually he spoke little and slowly, bowed

frequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, which were

fine and of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to take

great care. He answered the appeal of his friend by an

affirmative nod of the head.

This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to the

baldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about it;

and with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passed

suddenly to another subject.

"What do you think of the story Chalais`s esquire relates?" asked

another Musketeer, without addressing anyone in particular, but

on the contrary speaking to everybody.

"And what does he say?" asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient tone.

"He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME DAMNEE of

the cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this cursed

Rochefort, thanks to his disguise, had tricked Monsieur de

Laigues, like a ninny as he is."

"A ninny, indeed!" said Porthos; "but is the matter certain?"

"I had it from Aramis," replied the Musketeer.

"Indeed?"

"Why, you knew it, Porthos," said Aramis. "I told you of it

yesterday. Let us say no more about it."

"Say no more about it? That`s YOUR opinion!" replied Porthos.

"Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions

quickly. What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, has

his letters stolen from him by means of a traitor, a brigand, a

rascal-has, with the help of this spy and thanks to this

correspondence, Chalais`s throat cut, under the stupid pretext

that he wanted to kill the king and marry Monsieur to the queen!

Nobody knew a word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday to

the great satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping with

wonder at the news, you come and tell us today, "Let us say no

more about it.`"

"Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it," replied

Aramis, patiently.

"This Rochefort," cried Porthos, "if I were the esquire of poor

Chalais, should pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with me."

"And you--you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the Red

Duke," replied Aramis.

"Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!" cried Porthos,

clapping his hands and nodding his head. "The Red Duke is

capital. I`ll circulate that saying, be assured, my dear fellow.

Who says this Aramis is not a wit? What a misfortune it is you

did not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbe you

would have made!"

"Oh, it`s only a temporary postponement," replied Aramis; "I

shall be one someday. You very well know, Porthos, that I

continue to study theology for that purpose."

"He will be one, as he says," cried Porthos; "he will be one,

sooner or later."

"Sooner." said Aramis.

"He only waits for one thing to determine him to resume his

cassock, which hangs behind his uniform," said another Musketeer.

"What is he waiting for?" asked another.

"Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France."

"No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Porthos; "thank

God the queen is still of an age to give one!"

"They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France," replied

Aramis, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence,

apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.

"Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interrupted

Porthos. "Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if

Monsieur de Treville heard you, you would repent of speaking

thus."

"Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?" cried Aramis, from

whose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.

"My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the other,

but not both," replied Porthos. "You know what Athos told you

the other day; you eat at everybody`s mess. Ah, don`t be angry,

I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed upon

between you, Athos and me. You go to Madame d`Aguillon`s, and

you pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy`s, the

cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far

advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don`t

trouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for your

secret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possess

that virtue, why the devil don`t you make use of it with respect

to her Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the king and the

cardinal, and how he likes; but the queen is sacred, and if

anyone speaks of her, let it be respectfully."

"Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,"

replied Aramis. "You know I hate moralizing, except when it is

done by Athos. As to you, good sir, you wear too magnificent a

baldric to be strong on that head. I will be an abbe if it suits

me. In the meanwhile I am a Musketeer; in that quality I say

what I please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that you

weary me."

"Aramis!"

"Porthos!"

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried the surrounding group.

"Monsieur de Treville awaits Monsieur d`Artagnan," cried a

servant, throwing open the door of the cabinet.

At this announcement, during which the door remained open,

everyone became mute, and amid the general silence the young man

crossed part of the length of the antechamber, and entered the

apartment of the captain of the Musketeers, congratulating

himself with all his heart at having so narrowly escaped the end

of this strange quarrel.

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 831