24 THE PAVILION
At nine o'clock d'Artagnan was at the Hotel des Gardes; he foundPlanchet all ready. The fourth horse had arrived.
Planchet was armed with his musketoon and a pistol. D'Artagnan had hissword and placed two pistols in his belt; then both mounted and departedquietly. It was quite dark, and no one saw them go out. Planchet tookplace 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 andfollowed the road, much more beautiful then than it is now, which leadsto St. Cloud.
As long as he was in the city, Planchet kept at the respectful distancehe had imposed upon himself; but as soon as the road began to be morelonely and dark, he drew softly nearer, so that when they entered theBois de Boulogne he found himself riding quite naturally side by sidewith his master. In fact, we must not dissemble that the oscillation ofthe tall trees and the reflection of the moon in the dark underwood gavehim serious uneasiness. D'Artagnan could not help perceiving thatsomething more than usual was passing in the mind of his lackey andsaid, "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 areafraid?"
"Afraid of being heard? Yes, monsieur."
"Afraid of being heard! Why, there is nothing improper in ourconversation, my dear Planchet, and no one could find fault with it."
"Ah, monsieur!" replied Planchet, recurring to his besetting idea, "thatMonsieur Bonacieux has something vicious in his eyebrows, and somethingvery 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 avirtue."
"And you are very virtuous, are you not, Planchet?"
"Monsieur, is not that the barrel of a musket which glitters yonder? Hadwe not better lower our heads?"
"In truth," murmured d'Artagnan, to whom M. de Treville's recommendationrecurred, "this animal will end by making me afraid." And he put hishorse into a trot.
Planchet followed the movements of his master as if he had been hisshadow, 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 verycold, that chills bring on rheumatism, and that a lackey who has therheumatism makes but a poor servant, particularly to a master as activeas Monsieur."
"Well, if you are cold, Planchet, you can go into one of those cabaretsthat you see yonder, and be in waiting for me at the door by six o'clockin the morning."
"Monsieur, I have eaten and drunk respectfully the crown you gave methis 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, anddeparted at a quick pace, folding his cloak around him.
"Good Lord, how cold I am!" cried Planchet, as soon as he had lost sightof his master; and in such haste was he to warm himself that he wentstraight to a house set out with all the attributes of a suburbantavern, and knocked at the door.
In the meantime d'Artagnan, who had plunged into a bypath, continued hisroute and reached St. Cloud; but instead of following the main street heturned behind the chateau, reached a sort of retired lane, and foundhimself soon in front of the pavilion named. It was situated in a veryprivate spot. A high wall, at the angle of which was the pavilion, ranalong one side of this lane, and on the other was a little gardenconnected with a poor cottage which was protected by a hedge frompassers-by.
He gained the place appointed, and as no signal had been given him bywhich to announce his presence, he waited.
Not the least noise was to be heard; it might be imagined that he was ahundred 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 immensitywhere Paris slept--a vast void from which glittered a few luminouspoints, the funeral stars of that hell!
But for d'Artagnan all aspects were clothed happily, all ideas wore asmile, all shades were diaphanous. The appointed hour was about tostrike. In fact, at the end of a few minutes the belfry of St. Cloud letfall slowly ten strokes from its sonorous jaws. There was somethingmelancholy in this brazen voice pouring out its lamentations in themiddle of the night; but each of those strokes, which made up theexpected hour, vibrated harmoniously to the heart of the young man.
His eyes were fixed upon the little pavilion situated at the angle ofthe wall, of which all the windows were closed with shutters, except oneon the first story. Through this window shone a mild light whichsilvered the foliage of two or three linden trees which formed a groupoutside the park. There could be no doubt that behind this littlewindow, which threw forth such friendly beams, the pretty Mme. Bonacieuxexpected him.
Wrapped in this sweet idea, d'Artagnan waited half an hour without theleast impatience, his eyes fixed upon that charming little abode ofwhich 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 runthrough his veins. Perhaps the cold began to affect him, and he took aperfectly physical sensation for a moral impression.
Then the idea seized him that he had read incorrectly, and that theappointment was for eleven o'clock. He drew near to the window, andplacing himself so that a ray of light should fall upon the letter as heheld it, he drew it from his pocket and read it again; but he had notbeen mistaken, the appointment was for ten o'clock. He went and resumedhis post, beginning to be rather uneasy at this silence and thissolitude.
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 oflovers; but nobody replied to him, not even an echo.
He then thought, with a touch of vexation, that perhaps the young womanhad fallen asleep while waiting for him. He approached the wall, andtried to climb it; but the wall had been recently pointed, andd'Artagnan could get no hold.
At that moment he thought of the trees, upon whose leaves the lightstill shone; and as one of them drooped over the road, he thought thatfrom its branches he might get a glimpse of the interior of thepavilion.
The tree was easy to climb. Besides, d'Artagnan was but twenty yearsold, and consequently had not yet forgotten his schoolboy habits. In aninstant he was among the branches, and his keen eyes plunged through thetransparent panes into the interior of the pavilion.
It was a strange thing, and one which made d'Artagnan tremble from thesole 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 thewindows 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 anelegant supper, was overturned. The decanters broken in pieces, and thefruits crushed, strewed the floor. Everything in the apartment gaveevidence of a violent and desperate struggle. D'Artagnan even fancied hecould recognize amid this strange disorder, fragments of garments, andsome bloody spots staining the cloth and the curtains. He hastened todescend into the street, with a frightful beating at his heart; hewished to see if he could find other traces of violence.
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The little soft light shone on in the calmness of the night. D'Artagnanthen perceived a thing that he had not before remarked--for nothing hadled him to the examination--that the ground, trampled here andhoofmarked there, presented confused traces of men and horses. Besides,the wheels of a carriage, which appeared to have come from Paris, hadmade a deep impression in the soft earth, which did not extend beyondthe pavilion, but turned again toward Paris.
At length d'Artagnan, in pursuing his researches, found near the wall awoman's torn glove. This glove, wherever it had not touched the muddyground, was of irreproachable odor. It was one of those perfumed glovesthat lovers like to snatch from a pretty hand.
As d'Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant and more icysweat rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heart was oppressedby a horrible anguish; his respiration was broken and short. And yet hesaid, to reassure himself, that this pavilion perhaps had nothing incommon with Mme. Bonacieux; that the young woman had made an appointmentwith him before the pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she mighthave been detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy ofher husband.
But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by thatfeeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes possessionof our being, and cries to us so as to be understood unmistakably thatsome great misfortune is hanging over us.
Then d'Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road, took thepath he had before taken, and reaching the ferry, interrogated theboatman.
About seven o'clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a youngwoman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very anxious not tobe recognized; but entirely on account of her precautions, the boatmanhad paid more attention to her and discovered that she was young andpretty.
There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who came toSt. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and yet d'Artagnandid not for an instant doubt that it was Mme. Bonacieux whom the boatmanhad noticed.
D'Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin of theferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again, and satisfyhimself that he had not been mistaken, that the appointment was at St.Cloud and not elsewhere, before the D'Estrees's pavilion and not inanother street. Everything conspired to prove to d'Artagnan that hispresentiments had not deceived him, and that a great misfortune hadhappened.
He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him that somethingmight have happened at the pavilion in his absence, and that freshinformation awaited him. The lane was still deserted, and the same calmsoft light shone through the window.
D'Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure, which hadno doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate of the enclosurewas shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and in spite of the barking of achained-up dog, went up to the cabin.
No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death reigned in thecabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his last resource, heknocked again.
It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within--a timidnoise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard.
Then d'Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so full ofanxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice was of anature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old, worm-eatenshutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closed again as soon asthe light from a miserable lamp which burned in the corner had shoneupon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol pommels of d'Artagnan.Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had been, d'Artagnan had had time toget a glimpse of the head of an old man.
"In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have been waitingfor someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety. Has anythingparticular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!"
The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared, only itwas now still more pale than before.
D'Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names. He toldhow he had a rendezvous with a young woman before that pavilion, andhow, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden tree, and by thelight 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 thatannounced nothing good.
"What do you mean?" cried d'Artagnan. "In the name of heaven, explainyourself!"
"Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if I dared tellyou what I have seen, certainly no good would befall me."
"You have, then, seen something?" replied d'Artagnan. "In that case, inthe name of heaven," continued he, throwing him a pistole, "tell me whatyou have seen, and I will pledge you the word of a gentleman that notone of your words shall escape from my heart."
The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of theyoung man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in a lowvoice: "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 foundthat somebody was endeavoring to open it. As I am very poor and am notafraid of being robbed, I went and opened the gate and saw three men ata few paces from it. In the shadow was a carriage with two horses, andsome saddlehorses. These horses evidently belonged to the three men, whowere dressed as cavaliers. 'Ah, my worthy gentlemen,' cried I, 'what doyou want?' 'You must have a ladder?' said he who appeared to be theleader of the party. 'Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gather myfruit.' 'Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there is a crownfor the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember this--if you speak aword of what you may see or what you may hear (for you will look and youwill listen, I am quite sure, however we may threaten you), you arelost.' At these words he threw me a crown, which I picked up, and hetook the ladder. After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended toreturn to the house, but I immediately went out a back door, andstealing along in the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump ofelder, from which I could hear and see everything. The three men broughtthe carriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout, short,elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color, who ascendedthe ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at the window of thepavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone up, and whispered, 'It isshe!' Immediately, he who had spoken to me approached the door of thepavilion, opened it with a key he had in his hand, closed the door anddisappeared, while at the same time the other two men ascended theladder. The little old man remained at the coach door; the coachman tookcare of his horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once greatcries resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window, andopened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon as sheperceived the other two men, she fell back and they went into thechamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise of breakingfurniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but her cries weresoon 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 afterher. The leader closed the window, came out an instant after by thedoor, and satisfied himself that the woman was in the carriage. His twocompanions were already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; thelackey took his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quickpace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. From that momentI have neither seen nor heard anything."
D'Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remainedmotionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy werehowling in his heart.
"But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom this mutedespair certainly produced a greater effect than cries and tears wouldhave done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her, and that's acomfort."
"Can you guess," said d'Artagnan, "who was the man who headed thisinfernal 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 agentleman."
"That's the man!" cried d'Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He is mydemon, apparently. And the other?"
"Which?"
"The short one."
"Oh, he was not a gentleman, I'll answer for it; besides, he did notwear a sword, and the others treated him with small consideration."
"Some lackey," murmured d'Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman, what havethey 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 buthis 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 shouldfind her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he feared she had had anintrigue with another, who, in a jealous fit, had surprised her andcarried her off. His mind was torn by doubt, grief, and despair.
"Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have, atleast, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what has become ofthem?"
It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet. D'Artagnanwent successively into all the cabarets in which there was a light, butcould 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, andwherever he might be, he was right.
Besides, it came into the young man's mind that by remaining in theenvirons of the spot on which this sad event had passed, he would,perhaps, have some light thrown upon the mysterious affair. At the sixthcabaret, then, as we said, d'Artagnan stopped, asked for a bottle ofwine of the best quality, and placing himself in the darkest corner ofthe room, determined thus to wait till daylight; but this time again hishopes were disappointed, and although he listened with all his ears, heheard nothing, amid the oaths, coarse jokes, and abuse which passedbetween the laborers, servants, and carters who comprised the honorablesociety of which he formed a part, which could put him upon the leasttrack of her who had been stolen from him. He was compelled, then, afterhaving swallowed the contents of his bottle, to pass the time as well asto evade suspicion, to fall into the easiest position in his corner andto sleep, whether well or ill. D'Artagnan, be it remembered, was onlytwenty years old, and at that age sleep has its imprescriptible rightswhich it imperiously insists upon, even with the saddest hearts.
Toward six o'clock d'Artagnan awoke with that uncomfortable feelingwhich generally accompanies the break of day after a bad night. He wasnot long in making his toilet. He examined himself to see if advantagehad been taken of his sleep, and having found his diamond ring on hisfinger, 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 betterluck in his search after his lackey than he had had the night before.The first thing he perceived through the damp gray mist was honestPlanchet, who, with the two horses in hand, awaited him at the door of alittle blind cabaret, before which d'Artagnan had passed without even asuspicion of its existence.