THE RENDEZVOUS
D`Artagnan ran home immediately, and although it was three
o`clock in the morning and he had some of the worst quarters of
Paris to traverse, he met with no misadventure. Everyone knows
that drunkards and lovers have a protecting deity.
He found the door of his passage open, sprang up the stairs and
knocked softly in a manner agreed upon between him and his
lackey. Planchet*, whom he had sent home two hours before from
the Hotel de Ville, telling him to sit up for him, opened the
door for him.
*The reader may ask, "How came Planchet here?" when he was left
"stiff as a rush" in London. In the intervening time Buckingham
perhaps sent him to Paris, as he did the horses.
"Has anyone brought a letter for me?" asked D`Artagnan, eagerly.
"No one has BROUGHT a letter, monsieur," replied Planchet; "but
one has come of itself."
"What do you mean, blockhead?"
"I mean to say that when I came in, although I had the key of
your apartment in my pocket, and that key had never quit me, I
found a letter on the green table cover in your bedroom."
"And where is that letter?"
"I left it where I found it, monsieur. It is not natural for
letters to enter people`s houses in this manner. If the window
had been open or even ajar, I should think nothing of it; but,
no--all was hermetically sealed. Beware, monsieur; there is
certainly some magic underneath."
Meanwhile, the young man had darted in to his chamber, and opened
the letter. It was from Mme. Bonacieux, and was expressed in
these terms:
"There are many thanks to be offered to you, and to be
transmitted to you. Be this evening about ten o`clock at St.
Cloud, in front of the pavilion which stands at the corner of the
house of M. d`Estrees.--C.B."
While reading this letter, D`Artagnan felt his heart dilated and
compressed by that delicious spasm which tortures and caresses
the hearts of lovers.
It was the first billet he had received; it was the first
rendezvous that had been granted him. His heart, swelled by the
intoxication of joy, felt ready to dissolve away at the very gate
of that terrestrial paradise called Love!
"Well, monsieur," said Planchet, who had observed his master grow
read and pale successively, "did I not guess truly? Is it not
some bad affair?"
"You are mistaken, Planchet," replied D`Artagnan; "and as a
proof, there is a crown to drink my health."
"I am much obliged to Monsieur for the crown he had given me, and
I promise him to follow his instructions exactly; but it is not
the less true that letters which come in this way into shut-up
houses--"
"Fall from heaven, my friend, fall from heaven."
"Then Monsieur is satisfied?" asked Planchet.
"My dear Planchet, I an the happiest of men!"
"And I may profit by Monsieur`s happiness, and go to bed?"
"Yes, go."
"May the blessings of heaven fall upon Monsieur! But it is not
the less true that that letter--"
And Planchet retired, shaking his head with an air of doubt,
which the liberality of D`Artagnan had not entirely effaced.
Left alone, D`Artagnan read and reread his billet. Then he
kissed and rekissed twenty times the lines traced by the hand of
his beautiful mistress. At length he went to bed, fell asleep,
and had golden dreams.
At seven o`clock in the morning he arose and called Planchet, who
at the second summons opened the door, his countenance not yet
quite freed from the anxiety of the preceding night.
"Planchet," said D`Artagnan, "I am going out for all day,
perhaps. You are, therefore, your own master till seven o`clock
in the evening; but at seven o`clock you must hold yourself in
readiness with two horses."
"There!" said Planchet. "We are going again, it appears, to have
our hides pierced in all sorts of ways."
"You will take your musketoon and your pistols."
"There, now! Didn`t I say so?" cried Planchet. "I was sure of
it--the cursed letter!"
"Don`t be afraid, you idiot; there is nothing in hand but a party
of pleasure."
"Ah, like the charming journey the other day, when it rained
bullets and produced a crop of steel traps!"
"Well, if you are really afraid, Monsieur Planchet," resumed
D`Artagnan, "I will go without you. I prefer traveling alone to
having a companion who entertains the least fear."
"Monsieur does me wrong," said Planchet; "I thought he had seen
me at work."
"Yes, but I thought perhaps you had worn out all your courage the
first time."
"Monsieur shall see that upon occasion I have some left; only I
beg Monsieur not to be too prodigal of it if he wishes it to last
long."
"Do you believe you have still a certain amount of it to expend
this evening?"
"I hope so, monsieur."
"Well, then, I count on you."
"At the appointed hour I shall be ready; only I believed that
Monsieur had but one horse in the Guard stables."
"Perhaps there is but one at this moment; but by this evening
there will be four."
"It appears that our journey was a remounting journey, then?"
"Exactly so," said D`Artagnan; and nodding to Planchet, he went
out.
M. Bonacieux was at his door. D`Artagnan`s intention was to go
out without speaking to the worthy mercer; but the latter made so
polite and friendly a salutation that his tenant felt obliged,
not only to stop, but to enter into conversation with him.
Besides, how is it possible to avoid a little condescension
toward a husband whose pretty wife has appointed a meeting with
you that same evening at St. Cloud, opposite D`Estrees`s
pavilion? D`Artagnan approached him with the most amiable air he
could assume.
The conversation naturally fell upon the incarceration of the
poor man. M. Bonacieux, who was ignorant that D`Artagnan had
overheard his conversation with the stranger of Meung, related to
his young tenant the persecutions of that monster, M. de
Laffemas, whom he never ceased to designate, during his account,
by the title of the "cardinal`s executioner," and expatiated at
great length upon the Bastille, the bolts, the wickets, the
dungeons, the gratings, the instruments of torture.
D`Artagnan listened to him with exemplary complaisance, and when
he had finished said, "And Madame Bonacieux, do you know who
carried her off?--For I do not forget that I owe to that
unpleasant circumstance the good fortune of having made your
acquaintance."
"Ah!" said Bonacieux, "they took good care not to tell me that;
and my wife, on her part, has sworn to me by all that`s sacred
that she does not know. But you," continued M. Bonacieux, in a
tine of perfect good fellowship, "what has become of you all
these days? I have not seen you nor your friends, and I don`t
think you could gather all that dust that I saw Planchet brush
off your boots yesterday from the pavement of Paris."
"You are right, my dear Monsieur Bonacieux, my friends and I have
been on a little journey."
"Far from here?"
"Oh, Lord, no! About forty leagues only. We went to take
Monsieur Athos to the waters of Forges, where my friends still
remain."
"And you have returned, have you not?" replied M. Bonacieux,
giving to his countenance a most sly air. "A handsome young
fellow like you does not obtain long leaves of absence from his
mistress; and we were impatiently waited for at Paris, were we
not?"
"My faith!" said the young man, laughing, "I confess it, and so
much more the readily, my dear Bonacieux, as I see there is no
concealing anything from you. Yes, I was expected, and very
impatiently, I acknowledge."
A slight shade passed over the brow of Bonacieux, but so slight
that D`Artagnan did not perceive it.
"And we are going to be recompensed for our diligence?" continued
the mercer, with a trifling alteration in his voice--so trifling,
indeed, that D`Artagnan did not perceive it any more than he had
the momentary shade which, an instant before, had darkened the
countenance of the worthy man.
"Ah, may you be a true prophet!" said D`Artagnan, laughing.
"No; what I say," replied Bonacieux, "is only that I may know
whether I am delaying you."
"Why that question, my dear host?" asked D`Artagnan. "Do you
intend to sit up for me?"
"No; but since my arrest and the robbery that was committed in my
house, I am alarmed every time I hear a door open, particularly
in the night. What the deuce can you expect? I am no
swordsman."
"Well, don`t be alarmed if I return at one, two or three o`clock
in the morning; indeed, do not be alarmed if I do not come at
all."
This time Bonacieux became so pale that D`Artagnan could not help
perceiving it, and asked him what was the matter.
"Nothing," replied Bonacieux, "nothing. Since my misfortunes I
have been subject to faintnesses, which seize me all at once, and
I have just felt a cold shiver. Pay no attention to it; you have
nothing to occupy yourself with but being happy."
"Then I have full occupation, for I am so."
"Not yet; wait a little! This evening, you said."
"Well, this evening will come, thank God! And perhaps you look
for it with as much impatience as I do; perhaps this evening
Madame Bonacieux will visit the conjugal domicile."
"Madame Bonacieux is not at liberty this evening," replied the
husband, seriously; "she is detained at the Louvre this evening
by her duties."
"So much the worse for you, my dear host, so much the worse!
When I am happy, I wish all the world to be so; but it appears
that is not possible."
The young man departed, laughing at the joke, which he thought he
alone could comprehend.
"Amuse yourself well!" replied Bonacieux, in a sepulchral tone.
But D`Artagnan was too far off to hear him; and if he had heard
him in the disposition of mind he then enjoyed, he certainly
would not have remarked it.
He took his way toward the hotel of M. de Treville; his visit of
the day before, it is to be remembered, had been very short and
very little explicative.
He found Treville in a joyful mood. He had thought the king and
queen charming at the ball. It is true the cardinal had been
particularly ill-tempered. He had retired at one o`clock under
the pretense of being indisposed. As to their Majesties, they
did not return to the Louvre till six o`clock in the morning.
"Now," said Treville, lowering his voice, and looking into every
corner of the apartment to see if they were alone, "now let us
talk about yourself, my young friend; for it is evident that your
happy return has something to do with the joy of the king, the
triumph of the queen, and the humiliation of his Eminence. You
must look out for yourself."
"What have I to fear," replied D`Artagnan, "as long as I shall
have the luck to enjoy the favor of their Majesties?"
"Everything, believe me. The cardinal is not the man to forget a
mystification until he has settled account with the mystifier;
and the mystifier appears to me to have the air of being a
certain young Gascon of my acquaintance."
"Do you believe that the cardinal is as well posted as yourself,
and knows that I have been to London?"
"The devil! You have been to London! Was it from London you
brought that beautiful diamond that glitters on your finger?
Beware, my dear D`Artagnan! A present from an enemy is not a
good thing. Are there not some Latin verses upon that subject?
Stop!"
"Yes, doubtless," replied D`Artagnan, who had never been able to
cram the first rudiments of that language into his head, and who
had by his ignorance driven his master to despair, "yes,
doubtless there is one."
"There certainly is one," said M. de Treville, who had a tincture
of literature, "and Monsieur de Benserade was quoting it to me
the other day. Stop a minute--ah, this is it: `Timeo Danaos et
dona ferentes,` which means, `Beware of the enemy who makes you
presents."
"This diamond does not come from an enemy, monsieur," replied
D`Artagnan, "it comes from the queen."
"From the queen! Oh, oh!" said M. de Treville. "Why, it is
indeed a true royal jewel, which is worth a thousand pistoles if
it is worth a denier. By whom did the queen send you this
jewel?"
"She gave it to me herself."
"Where?"
"In the room adjoining the chamber in which she changed her
toilet."
"How?"
"Giving me her hand to kiss."
"You have kissed the queen`s hand?" said M. de Treville, looking
earnestly at D`Artagnan.
"Her Majesty did me the honor to grant me that favor."
"And that in the presence of witnesses! Imprudent, thrice
imprudent!"
"No, monsieur, be satisfied; nobody saw her," replied D`Artagnan,
and he related to M. de Treville how the affair came to pass.
"Oh, the women, the women!" cried the old soldier. "I know them
by their romantic imagination. Everything that savors of mystery
charms them. So you have seen the arm, that was all. You would
meet the queen, and she would not know who you are?"
"No; but thanks to this diamond," replied the young man.
"Listen," said M. de Treville; "shall I give you counsel, good
counsel, the counsel of a friend?"
"You will do me honor, monsieur," said D`Artagnan.
"Well, then, off to the nearest goldsmith`s, and sell that
diamond for the highest price you can get from him. However much
of a Jew he may be, he will give you at least eight hundred
pistoles. Pistoles have no name, young man, and that ring has a
terrible one, which may betray him who wears it."
"Sell this ring, a ring which comes from my sovereign? Never!"
said D`Artagnan.
"Then, at least turn the gem inside, you silly fellow; for
everybody must be aware that a cadet from Gascony does not find
such stones in his mother`s jewel case."
"You think, then, I have something to dread?" asked D`Artagnan.
"I mean to say, young man, that he who sleeps over a mine the
match of which is already lighted, may consider himself in safety
in comparison with you."
"The devil!" said D`Artagnan, whom the positive tone of M. de
Treville began to disquiet, "the devil! What must I do?"
"Above all things be always on your guard. The cardinal has a
tenacious memory and a long arm; you may depend upon it, he will
repay you by some ill turn."
"But of what sort?"
"Eh! How can I tell? Has he not all the tricks of a demon at
his command? The least that can be expected is that you will be
arrested."
"What! Will they dare to arrest a man in his Majesty`s service?"
"PARDIEU! They did not scruple much in the case of Athos. At
all events, young man, rely upon one who has been thirty years at
court. Do not lull yourself in security, or you will be lost;
but, on the contrary--and it is I who say it--see enemies in all
directions. If anyone seeks a quarrel with you, shun it, were it
with a child of ten years old. If you are attacked by day or by
night, fight, but retreat, without shame; if you cross a bridge,
feel every plank of it with your foot, lest one should give way
beneath you; if you pass before a house which is being built,
look up, for fear a stone should fall upon your head; if you stay
out late, be always followed by your lackey, and let your lackey
be armed--if, by the by, you can be sure of your lackey.
Mistrust everybody, your friend, your brother, your mistress--
your mistress above all."
D`Artagnan blushed.
"My mistress above all," repeated he, mechanically; "and why her
rather than another?"
"Because a mistress is one of the cardinal`s favorite means; he
has not one that is more expeditious. A woman will sell you for
ten pistoles, witness Delilah. You are acquainted with the
Scriptures?"
D`Artagnan thought of the appointment Mme. Bonacieux had made
with him for that very evening; but we are bound to say, to the
credit of our hero, that the bad opinion entertained by M. de
Treville of women in general, did not inspire him with the least
suspicion of his pretty hostess.
"But, A PROPOS," resumed M. de Treville, "what has become of your
three companions?"
"I was about to ask you if you had heard any news of them?"
"None, monsieur."
"Well, I left them on my road--Porthos at Chantilly, with a duel
on his hands; Aramis at Crevecoeur, with a ball in his shoulder;
and Athos at Amiens, detained by an accusation of coining."
"See there, now!" said M. de Treville; "and how the devil did you
escape?"
"By a miracle, monsieur, I must acknowledge, with a sword thrust
in my breast, and by nailing the Comte de Wardes on the byroad to
Calais, like a butterfly on a tapestry."
"There again! De Wardes, one of the cardinal`s men, a cousin of
Rochefort! Stop, my friend, I have an idea."
"Speak, monsieur."
"In your place, I would do one thing."
"What?"
"While his Eminence was seeking for me in Paris, I would take,
without sound of drum or trumpet, the road to Picardy, and would
go and make some inquiries concerning my three companions. What
the devil! They merit richly that piece of attention on your
part."
"The advice is good, monsieur, and tomorrow I will set out."
"Tomorrow! Any why not this evening?"
"This evening, monsieur, I am detained in Paris by indispensable
business."
"Ah, young man, young man, some flirtation or other. Take care,
I repeat to you, take care. It is woman who has ruined us, still
ruins us, and will ruin us, as long as the world stands. Take my
advice and set out this evening."
"Impossible, monsieur."
"You have given your word, then?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Ah, that`s quite another thing; but promise me, if you should
not be killed tonight, that you will go tomorrow."
"I promise it."
"Do you need money?"
"I have still fifty pistoles. That, I think, is as much as I
shall want."
"But your companions?"
"I don`t think they can be in need of any. We left Paris, each
with seventy-five pistoles in his pocket."
"Shall I see you again before your departure?"
"I think not, monsieur, unless something new should happen."
"Well, a pleasant journey."
"Thanks, monsieur."
D`Artagnan left M. de Treville, touched more than ever by his
paternal solicitude for his Musketeers.
He called successively at the abodes of Athos, Porthos, and
Aramis. Neither of them had returned. Their lackeys likewise
were absent, and nothing had been heard of either the one or the
other. He would have inquired after them of their mistresses,
but he was neither acquainted with Porthos`s nor Aramis`s, and as
to Athos, he had none.
As he passed the Hotel des Gardes, he took a glance in to the
stables. Three of the four horses had already arrived.
Planchet, all astonishment, was busy grooming them, and had
already finished two.
"Ah, monsieur," said Planchet, on perceiving D`Artagnan, "how
glad I am to see you."
"Why so, Planchet?" asked the young man.
"Do you place confidence in our landlord--Monsieur Bonacieux?"
"I? Not the least in the world."
"Oh, you do quite right, monsieur."
"But why this question?"
"Because, while you were talking with him, I watched you without
listening to you; and, monsieur, his countenance changed color
two or three times!"
"Bah!"
"Preoccupied as Monsieur was with the letter he had received, he
did not observe that; but I, whom the strange fashion in which
that letter came into the house had placed on my guard--I did not
lose a movement of his features."
"And you found it?"
"Traitorous, monsieur."
"Indeed!"
"Still more; as soon as Monsieur had left and disappeared round
the corner of the street, Monsieur Bonacieux took his hat, shut
his door, and set off at a quick pace in an opposite direction."
"It seems you are right, Planchet; all this appears to be a
little mysterious; and be assured that we will not pay him our
rent until the matter shall be categorically explained to us."
"Monsieur jests, but Monsieur will see."
"What would you have, Planchet? What must come is written."
"Monsieur does not then renounce his excursion for this evening?"
"Quite the contrary, Planchet; the more ill will I have toward
Monsieur Bonacieux, the more punctual I shall be in keeping the
appointment made by that letter which makes you so uneasy."
"Then that is Monsieur`s determination?"
"Undeniably, my friend. At nine o`clock, then, be ready here at
the hotel, I will come and take you."
Planchet seeing there was no longer any hope of making his master
renounce his project, heaved a profound sigh and set to work to
groom the third horse.
As to D`Artagnan, being at bottom a prudent youth, instead of
returning him he went and dined with the Gascon priest, who, at
the time of the distress of the four friends, had given them a
breakfast of chocolate.
24 THE PAVILION
At nine o`clock D`Artagnan was at the Hotel des Gardes; he found
Planchet all ready. The fourth horse had arrived.
Planchet was armed with his musketoon and a pistol. D`Artagnan
had his sword and placed two pistols in his belt; then both
mounted and departed quietly. It was quite dark, and no one saw
them go out. Planchet took place behind his master, and kept at
a distance of ten paces from him.
D`Artagnan crossed the quays, went out by the gate of La
Conference and followed the road, much more beautiful then than
it is now, which leads to St. Cloud.
As long as he was in the city, Planchet kept at the respectful
distance he had imposed upon himself; but as soon as the road
began to be more lonely and dark, he drew softly nearer, so that
when they entered the Bois de Boulogne he found himself riding
quite naturally side by side with his master. In fact, we must
not dissemble that the oscillation of the tall trees and the
reflection of the moon in the dark underwood gave him serious
uneasiness. D`Artagnan could not help perceiving that something
more than usual was passing in the mind of his lackey and said,
"Well, Monsieur Planchet, what is the matter with us now?"
"Don`t you think, monsieur, that woods are like churches?"
"How so, Planchet?"
"Because we dare not speak aloud in one or the other."
"But why did you not dare to speak aloud, Planchet--because you
are afraid?"
"Afraid of being heard? Yes, monsieur."
"Afraid of being heard! Why, there is nothing improper in our
conversation, my dear Planchet, and no one could find fault with
it."
"Ah, monsieur!" replied Planchet, recurring to his besetting
idea, "that Monsieur Bonacieux has something vicious in his
eyebrows, and something very unpleasant in the play of his lips."
"What the devil makes you think of Bonacieux?"
"Monsieur, we think of what we can, and not of what we will."
"Because you are a coward, Planchet."
"Monsieur, we must not confound prudence with cowardice; prudence
is a virtue."
"And you are very virtuous, are you not, Planchet?"
"Monsieur, is not that the barrel of a musket which glitters
yonder? Had we not better lower our heads?"
"In truth," murmured D`Artagnan, to whom M. de Treville`s
recommendation recurred, "this animal will end by making me
afraid." And he put his horse into a trot.
Planchet followed the movements of his master as if he had been
his shadow, and was soon trotting by his side.
"Are we going to continue this pace all night?" asked Planchet.
"No; you are at your journey`s end."
"How, monsieur! And you?"
"I am going a few steps farther."
"And Monsieur leaves me here alone?"
"You are afraid, Planchet?"
"No; I only beg leave to observe to Monsieur that the night will
be very cold, that chills bring on rheumatism, and that a lackey
who has the rheumatism makes but a poor servant, particularly to
a master as active as Monsieur."
"Well, if you are cold, Planchet, you can go into one of those
cabarets that you see yonder, and be in waiting for me at the
door by six o`clock in the morning."
"Monsieur, I have eaten and drunk respectfully the crown you gave
me this morning, so that I have not a sou left in case I should
be cold."
"Here`s half a pistole. Tomorrow morning."
D`Artagnan sprang from his horse, threw the bridle to Planchet,
and departed at a quick pace, folding his cloak around him.
"Good Lord, how cold I am!" cried Planchet, as soon as he had
lost sight of his master; and in such haste was he to warm
himself that he went straight to a house set out with all the
attributes of a suburban tavern, and knocked at the door.
In the meantime D`Artagnan, who had plunged into a bypath,
continued his route and reached St. Cloud; but instead of
following the main street he turned behind the chateau, reached a
sort of retired lane, and found himself soon in front of the
pavilion named. It was situated in a very private spot. A high
wall, at the angle of which was the pavilion, ran along one side
of this lane, and on the other was a little garden connected with
a poor cottage which was protected by a hedge from passers-by.
He gained the place appointed, and as no signal had been given
him by which to announce his presence, he waited.
Not the least noise was to be heard; it might be imagined that he
was a hundred miles from the capital. D`Artagnan leaned against
the hedge, after having cast a glance behind it. Beyond that
hedge, that garden, and that cottage, a dark mist enveloped with
its folds that immensity where Paris slept--a vast void from
which glittered a few luminous points, the funeral stars of that
hell!
But for D`Artagnan all aspects were clothed happily, all ideas
wore a smile, all shades were diaphanous. The appointed hour was
about to strike. In fact, at the end of a few minutes the belfry
of St. Cloud let fall slowly then strokes from its sonorous jaws.
There was something melancholy in this brazen voice pouring out
its lamentations in the middle of the night; but each of those
strokes, which made up the expected hour, vibrated harmoniously
to the heart of the young man.
His eyes were fixed upon the little pavilion situated at the
angle of the wall, of which all the windows were closed with
shutters, except one on the first story. Through this window
shone a mild light which silvered the foliage of two or three
linden trees which formed a group outside the park. There could
be no doubt that behind this little window, which threw forth
such friendly beams, the pretty Mme. Bonacieux expected him.
Wrapped in this sweet idea, D`Artagnan waited half an hour
without the least impatience, his eyes fixed upon that charming
little abode of which he could perceive a part of the ceiling
with its gilded moldings, attesting the elegance of the rest of
the apartment.
The belfry of St. Cloud sounded half past ten.
This time, without knowing why, D`Artagnan felt a cold shiver run
through his veins. Perhaps the cold began to affect him, and he
took a perfectly physical sensation for a moral impression.
Then the idea seized him that he had read incorrectly, and that
the appointment was for eleven o`clock. He drew near to the
window, and placing himself so that a ray of light should fall
upon the letter as he held it, he drew it from his pocket and
read it again; but he had not been mistaken, the appointment was
for ten o`clock. He went and resumed his post, beginning to be
rather uneasy at this silence and this solitude.
Eleven o`clock sounded.
D`Artagnan began now really to fear that something had happened
to Mme. Bonacieux. He clapped his hands three times--the
ordinary signal of lovers; but nobody replied to him, not even an
echo.
He then thought, with a touch of vexation, that perhaps the young
woman had fallen asleep while waiting for him. He approached the
wall, and tried to climb it; but the wall had been recently
pointed, and D`Artagnan could get no hold.
At that moment he thought of the trees, upon whose leaves the
light still shone; and as one of them drooped over the road, he
thought that from its branches he might get a glimpse of the
interior of the pavilion.
The tree was easy to climb. Besides, D`Artagnan was but twenty
years old, and consequently had not yet forgotten his schoolboy
habits. In an instant he was among the branches, and his keen
eyes plunged through the transparent panes into the interior of
the pavilion.
It was a strange thing, and one which made D`Artagnan tremble
from the sole of his foot to the roots of his hair, to find that
this soft light, this calm lamp, enlightened a scene of fearful
disorder. One of the windows was broken, the door of the chamber
had been beaten in and hung, split in two, on its hinges. A
table, which had been covered with an elegant supper, was
overturned. The decanters broken in pieces, and the fruits
crushed, strewed the floor. Everything in the apartment gave
evidence of a violent and desperate struggle. D`Artagnan even
fancied he could recognize amid this strange disorder, fragments
of garments, and some bloody spots staining the cloth and the
curtains. He hastened to descend into the street, with a
frightful beating at his heart; he wished to see if he could find
other traces of violence.
The little soft light shone on in the calmness of the night.
D`Artagnan then perceived a thing that he had not before
remarked--for nothing had led him to the examination--that the
ground, trampled here and hoofmarked there, presented confused
traces of men and horses. Besides, the wheels of a carriage,
which appeared to have come from Paris, had made a deep
impression in the soft earth, which did not extend beyond the
pavilion, but turned again toward Paris.
At length D`Artagnan, in pursuing his researches, found near the
wall a woman`s torn glove. This glove, wherever it had not
touched the muddy ground, was of irreproachable odor. It was one
of those perfumed gloves that lovers like to snatch from a pretty
hand.
As D`Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant and
more icy sweat rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heart
was oppressed by a horrible anguish; his respiration was broken
and short. And yet he said, to reassure himself, that this
pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; that
the young woman had made an appointment with him before the
pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have been
detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy of
her husband.
But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by
that feeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes
possession of our being, and cries to us so as to be understood
unmistakably that some great misfortune is hanging over us.
Then D`Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road,
took the path he had before taken, and reaching the ferry,
interrogated the boatman.
About seven o`clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a
young woman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very
anxious not to be recognized; but entirely on account of her
precautions, the boatman had paid more attention to her and
discovered that she was young and pretty.
There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who
came to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and
yet D`Artagnan did not for an instant doubt that it was Mme.
Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed.
D`Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin
of the ferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again,
and satisfy himself that he had not been mistaken, that the
appointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, before the
D`Estrees`s pavilion and not in another street. Everything
conspired to prove to D`Artagnan that his presentiments had not
deceived him, and that a great misfortune had happened.
He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him that
something might have happened at the pavilion in his absence, and
that fresh information awaited him. The lane was still deserted,
and the same calm soft light shone through the window.
D`Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure,
which had no doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate
of the enclosure was shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and in
spite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up to the cabin.
No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death
reigned in the cabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his
last resource, he knocked again.
It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within--a
timid noise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard.
Then D`Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so
full of anxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice
was of a nature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old,
worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closed
again as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which burned in
the corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol
pommels of D`Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had
been, D`Artagnan had had time to get a glimpse of the head of an
old man.
"In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have been
waiting for someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety.
Has anything particular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!"
The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared,
only it was now still more pale than before.
D`Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names.
He told how he had a rendezvous with a young woman before that
pavilion, and how, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden
tree, and by the light of the lamp had seen the disorder of the
chamber.
The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it was
all so; and then, when D`Artagnan had ended, he shook his head
with an air that announced nothing good.
"What do you mean?" cried D`Artagnan. "In the name of heaven,
explain yourself!"
"Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if I
dared tell you what I have seen, certainly no good would befall
me."
"You have, then, seen something?" replied D`Artagnan. "In that
case, in the name of heaven," continued he, throwing him a
pistole, "tell me what you have seen, and I will pledge you the
word of a gentleman that not one of your words shall escape from
my heart."
The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of
the young man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in
a low voice: "It was scarcely nine o`clock when I heard a noise
in the street, and was wondering what it could be, when on coming
to my door, I found that somebody was endeavoring to open it. As
I am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I went and
opened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In the
shadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses.
These horses evidently belonged to the three men, who wee dressed
as cavaliers. `Ah, my worthy gentlemen,` cried I, `what do you
want?` `You must have a ladder?` said he who appeared to be the
leader of the party. `Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gather
my fruit.` `Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there
is a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember
this--if you speak a word of what you may see or what you may
hear (for you will look and you will listen, I am quite sure,
however we may threaten you), you are lost.` At these words he
threw me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the ladder.
After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to the
house, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing along
in the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, from
which I could hear and see everything. The three men brought the
carriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout,
short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color,
who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at
the window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone
up, and whispered, `It is she!` Immediately, he who had spoken
to me approached the door of the pavilion, opened it with a key
he had in his hand, closed the door and disappeared, while at the
same time the other two men ascended the ladder. The little old
man remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of his
horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once great
cried resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window,
and opened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon as
she perceived the other two men, she fell back and they went into
the chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise of
breaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but
her cries were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearing
the woman in their arms, and carried her to the carriage, into
which the little old man got after her. The leader closed the
window, came out an instant after by the door, and satisfied
himself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companions
were already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackey
took his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quick
pace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. From
that moment I have neither seen nor heard anything."
D`Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remained
motionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy
were howling in his heart.
"But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom this
mute despair certainly produced a greater effect than cries and
tears would have done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her,
and that`s a comfort."
"Can you guess," said D`Artagnan, "who was the man who headed
this infernal expedition?"
"I don`t know him."
"But as you spoke to him you must have seen him."
"Oh, it`s a description you want?"
"Exactly so."
"A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the air
of a gentleman."
"That`s the man!" cried D`Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He is
my demon, apparently. And the other?"
"Which?"
"The short one."
"Oh, he was not a gentleman, I`ll answer for it; besides, he did
not wear a sword, and the others treated him with small
consideration."
"Some lackey," murmured D`Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman,
what have they done with you?"
"You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the old
man.
"And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman
has but his word, and I have given you mine."
With a heavy heart, D`Artagnan again bent his way toward the
ferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and
that he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he
feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealous
fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by
doubt, grief, and despair.
"Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have,
at least, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what has
become of them?"
It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet.
D`Artagnan went successively into all the cabarets in which there
was a light, but could not find Planchet in any of them.
At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was rather
dubious. D`Artagnan had appointed six o`clock in the morning for
his lackey, and wherever he might be, he was right.
Besides, it came into the young man`s mind that by remaining in
the environs of the spot on which this sad event had passed, he
would, perhaps, have some light thrown upon the mysterious
affair. At the sixth cabaret, then, as we said, D`Artagnan
stopped, asked for a bottle of wine of the best quality, and
placing himself in the darkest corner of the room, determined
thus to wait till daylight; but this time again his hopes were
disappointed, and although he listened with all his ears, he
heard nothing, amid the oaths, coarse jokes, and abuse which
passed between the laborers, servants, and carters who comprised
the honorable society of which he formed a part, which could put
him upon the least track of her who had been stolen from him. He
was compelled, them, after having swallowed the contents of his
bottle, to pass the time as well as to evade suspicion, to fall
into the easiest position in his corner and to sleep, whether
well or ill. D`Artagnan, be it remembered, was only twenty years
old, and at that age sleep has its imprescriptible rights which
it imperiously insists upon, even with the saddest hearts.
Toward six o`clock D`Artagnan awoke with that uncomfortable
feeling which generally accompanies the break of day after a bad
night. He was not long in making his toilet. He examined
himself to see if advantage had been taken of his sleep, and
having found his diamond ring on his finger, his purse in his
pocket, and his pistols in his belt, he rose, paid for his
bottle, and went out to try if he could have any better luck in
his search after his lackey than he had had the night before.
The first thing he perceived through the damp gray mist was
honest Planchet, who, with the two horses in hand, awaited him at
the door of a little blind cabaret, before which D`Artagnan had
passed without even a suspicion of its existence.
Date: 2015-01-29; view: 746
|