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: 749