27 THE WIFE OF ATHOS
We have now to search for Athos," said d'Artagnan to the vivaciousAramis, when he had informed him of all that had passed since theirdeparture from the capital, and an excellent dinner had made one of themforget his thesis and the other his fatigue.
"Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?" askedAramis. "Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword soskillfully."
"No doubt. Nobody has a higher opinion of the courage and skill of Athosthan I have; but I like better to hear my sword clang against lancesthan against staves. I fear lest Athos should have been beaten down byserving men. Those fellows strike hard, and don't leave off in a hurry.This is why I wish to set out again as soon as possible."
"I will try to accompany you," said Aramis, "though I scarcely feel in acondition to mount on horseback. Yesterday I undertook to employ thatcord which you see hanging against the wall, but pain prevented mycontinuing the pious exercise."
"That's the first time I ever heard of anybody trying to cure gunshotwounds with cat-o'-nine-tails; but you were ill, and illness renders thehead weak, therefore you may be excused."
"When do you mean to set out?"
"Tomorrow at daybreak. Sleep as soundly as you can tonight, andtomorrow, if you can, we will take our departure together."
"Till tomorrow, then," said Aramis; "for iron-nerved as you are, youmust need repose."
The next morning, when d'Artagnan entered Aramis's chamber, he found himat the window.
"What are you looking at?" asked d'Artagnan.
"My faith! I am admiring three magnificent horses which the stable boysare leading about. It would be a pleasure worthy of a prince to travelupon such horses."
"Well, my dear Aramis, you may enjoy that pleasure, for one of thosethree horses is yours."
"Ah, bah! Which?"
"Whichever of the three you like, I have no preference."
"And the rich caparison, is that mine, too?"
"Without doubt."
"You laugh, d'Artagnan."
"No, I have left off laughing, now that you speak French."
"What, those rich holsters, that velvet housing, that saddle studdedwith silver-are they all for me?"
"For you and nobody else, as the horse which paws the ground is mine,and the other horse, which is caracoling, belongs to Athos."
"PESTE! They are three superb animals!"
"I am glad they please you."
"Why, it must have been the king who made you such a present."
"Certainly it was not the cardinal; but don't trouble yourself whencethey come, think only that one of the three is your property."
"I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading."
"It is yours!"
"Good heaven! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I could mounthim with thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsome stirrups! HOLA,Bazin, come here this minute."
Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless.
"That last order is useless," interrupted d'Artagnan; "there are loadedpistols in your holsters."
Bazin sighed.
"Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy," said d'Artagnan; "people ofall conditions gain the kingdom of heaven."
"Monsieur was already such a good theologian," said Bazin, almostweeping; "he might have become a bishop, and perhaps a cardinal."
"Well, but my poor Bazin, reflect a little. Of what use is it to be achurchman, pray? You do not avoid going to war by that means; you see,the cardinal is about to make the next campaign, helm on head andpartisan in hand. And Monsieur de Nogaret de la Valette, what do you sayof him? He is a cardinal likewise. Ask his lackey how often he has hadto prepare lint of him."
"Alas!" sighed Bazin. "I know it, monsieur; everything is turnedtopsy-turvy in the world nowadays."
While this dialogue was going on, the two young men and the poor lackeydescended.
"Hold my stirrup, Bazin," cried Aramis; and Aramis sprang into thesaddle with his usual grace and agility, but after a few vaults andcurvets of the noble animal his rider felt his pains come on soinsupportably that he turned pale and became unsteady in his seat.D'Artagnan, who, foreseeing such an event, had kept his eye on him,sprang toward him, caught him in his arms, and assisted him to hischamber.
"That's all right, my dear Aramis, take care of yourself," said he; "Iwill go alone in search of Athos."
"You are a man of brass," replied Aramis.
"No, I have good luck, that is all. But how do you mean to pass yourtime till I come back? No more theses, no more glosses upon the fingersor upon benedictions, hey?"
Aramis smiled. "I will make verses," said he.
"Yes, I dare say; verses perfumed with the odor of the billet from theattendant of Madame de Chevreuse. Teach Bazin prosody; that will consolehim. As to the horse, ride him a little every day, and that willaccustom you to his maneuvers."
"Oh, make yourself easy on that head," replied Aramis. "You will find meready to follow you."
They took leave of each other, and in ten minutes, after havingcommended his friend to the cares of the hostess and Bazin, d'Artagnanwas trotting along in the direction of Amiens.
How was he going to find Athos? Should he find him at all? The positionin which he had left him was critical. He probably had succumbed. Thisidea, while darkening his brow, drew several sighs from him, and causedhim to formulate to himself a few vows of vengeance. Of all his friends,Athos was the eldest, and the least resembling him in appearance, in histastes and sympathies.
Yet he entertained a marked preference for this gentleman. The noble anddistinguished air of Athos, those flashes of greatness which from timeto time broke out from the shade in which he voluntarily kept himself,that unalterable equality of temper which made him the most pleasantcompanion in the world, that forced and cynical gaiety, that braverywhich might have been termed blind if it had not been the result of therarest coolness--such qualities attracted more than the esteem, morethan the friendship of d'Artagnan; they attracted his admiration.
Indeed, when placed beside M. de Treville, the elegant and noblecourtier, Athos in his most cheerful days might advantageously sustain acomparison. He was of middle height; but his person was so admirablyshaped and so well proportioned that more than once in his struggleswith Porthos he had overcome the giant whose physical strength wasproverbial among the Musketeers. His head, with piercing eyes, astraight nose, a chin cut like that of Brutus, had altogether anindefinable character of grandeur and grace. His hands, of which he tooklittle care, were the despair of Aramis, who cultivated his with almondpaste and perfumed oil. The sound of his voice was at once penetratingand melodious; and then, that which was inconceivable in Athos, who wasalways retiring, was that delicate knowledge of the world and of theusages of the most brilliant society--those manners of a high degreewhich appeared, as if unconsciously to himself, in his least actions.
If a repast were on foot, Athos presided over it better than any other,placing every guest exactly in the rank which his ancestors had earnedfor him or that he had made for himself. If a question in heraldry werestarted, Athos knew all the noble families of the kingdom, theirgenealogy, their alliances, their coats of arms, and the origin of them.Etiquette had no minutiae unknown to him. He knew what were the rightsof the great land owners. He was profoundly versed in hunting andfalconry, and had one day when conversing on this great art astonishedeven Louis XIII himself, who took a pride in being considered a pastmaster therein.
Like all the great nobles of that period, Athos rode and fenced toperfection. But still further, his education had been so littleneglected, even with respect to scholastic studies, so rare at this timeamong gentlemen, that he smiled at the scraps of Latin which Aramissported and which Porthos pretended to understand. Two or three times,even, to the great astonishment of his friends, he had, when Aramisallowed some rudimental error to escape him, replaced a verb in itsright tense and a noun in its case. Besides, his probity wasirreproachable,
in an age in which soldiers compromised so easily withtheir religion and their consciences, lovers with the rigorous delicacyof our era, and the poor with God's Seventh Commandment. This Athos,then, was a very extraordinary man.
And yet this nature so distinguished, this creature so beautiful, thisessence so fine, was seen to turn insensibly toward material life, asold men turn toward physical and moral imbecility. Athos, in his hoursof gloom--and these hours were frequent--was extinguished as to thewhole of the luminous portion of him, and his brilliant side disappearedas into profound darkness.
Then the demigod vanished; he remained scarcely a man. His head hangingdown, his eye dull, his speech slow and painful, Athos would look forhours together at his bottle, his glass, or at Grimaud, who, accustomedto obey him by signs, read in the faint glance of his master his leastdesire, and satisfied it immediately. If the four friends were assembledat one of these moments, a word, thrown forth occasionally with aviolent effort, was the share Athos furnished to the conversation. Inexchange for his silence Athos drank enough for four, and withoutappearing to be otherwise affected by wine than by a more markedconstriction of the brow and by a deeper sadness.
D'Artagnan, whose inquiring disposition we are acquainted with, hadnot--whatever interest he had in satisfying his curiosity on thissubject--been able to assign any cause for these fits, or for theperiods of their recurrence. Athos never received any letters; Athosnever had concerns which all his friends did not know.
It could not be said that it was wine which produced this sadness; forin truth he only drank to combat this sadness, which wine however, as wehave said, rendered still darker. This excess of bilious humor could notbe attributed to play; for unlike Porthos, who accompanied thevariations of chance with songs or oaths, Athos when he won remained asunmoved as when he lost. He had been known, in the circle of theMusketeers, to win in one night three thousand pistoles; to lose themeven to the gold-embroidered belt for gala days, win all this again withthe addition of a hundred louis, without his beautiful eyebrow beingheightened or lowered half a line, without his hands losing their pearlyhue, without his conversation, which was cheerful that evening, ceasingto be calm and agreeable.
Neither was it, as with our neighbors, the English, an atmosphericinfluence which darkened his countenance; for the sadness generallybecame more intense toward the fine season of the year. June and Julywere the terrible months with Athos.
For the present he had no anxiety. He shrugged his shoulders when peoplespoke of the future. His secret, then, was in the past, as had oftenbeen vaguely said to d'Artagnan.
This mysterious shade, spread over his whole person, rendered still moreinteresting the man whose eyes or mouth, even in the most completeintoxication, had never revealed anything, however skillfully questionshad been put to him.
"Well," thought d'Artagnan, "poor Athos is perhaps at this moment dead,and dead by my fault--for it was I who dragged him into this affair, ofwhich he did not know the origin, of which he is ignorant of the result,and from which he can derive no advantage."
"Without reckoning, monsieur," added Planchet to his master's audiblyexpressed reflections, "that we perhaps owe our lives to him. Do youremember how he cried, 'On, d'Artagnan, on, I am taken'? And when he haddischarged his two pistols, what a terrible noise he made with hissword! One might have said that twenty men, or rather twenty mad devils,were fighting."
These words redoubled the eagerness of d'Artagnan, who urged his horse,though he stood in need of no incitement, and they proceeded at a rapidpace. About eleven o'clock in the morning they perceived Amiens, and athalf past eleven they were at the door of the cursed inn.
D'Artagnan had often meditated against the perfidious host one of thosehearty vengeances which offer consolation while they are hoped for. Heentered the hostelry with his hat pulled over his eyes, his left hand onthe pommel of the sword, and cracking his whip with his right hand.
"Do you remember me?" said he to the host, who advanced to greet him.
"I have not that honor, monseigneur," replied the latter, his eyesdazzled by the brilliant style in which d'Artagnan traveled.
"What, you don't know me?"
"No, monseigneur."
"Well, two words will refresh your memory. What have you done with thatgentleman against whom you had the audacity, about twelve days ago, tomake an accusation of passing false money?"
The host became as pale as death; for d'Artagnan had assumed athreatening attitude, and Planchet modeled himself after his master.
"Ah, monseigneur, do not mention it!" cried the host, in the mostpitiable voice imaginable. "Ah, monseigneur, how dearly have I paid forthat fault, unhappy wretch as I am!"
"That gentleman, I say, what has become of him?"
"Deign to listen to me, monseigneur, and be merciful! Sit down, inmercy!"
D'Artagnan, mute with anger and anxiety, took a seat in the threateningattitude of a judge. Planchet glared fiercely over the back of hisarmchair.
"Here is the story, monseigneur," resumed the trembling host; "for I nowrecollect you. It was you who rode off at the moment I had thatunfortunate difference with the gentleman you speak of."
"Yes, it was I; so you may plainly perceive that you have no mercy toexpect if you do not tell me the whole truth."
"Condescend to listen to me, and you shall know all."
"I listen."
"I had been warned by the authorities that a celebrated coiner of badmoney would arrive at my inn, with several of his companions, alldisguised as Guards or Musketeers. Monseigneur, I was furnished with adescription of your horses, your lackeys, your countenances--nothing wasomitted."
"Go on, go on!" said d'Artagnan, who quickly understood whence such anexact description had come.
"I took then, in conformity with the orders of the authorities, who sentme a reinforcement of six men, such measures as I thought necessary toget possession of the persons of the pretended coiners."
"Again!" said d'Artagnan, whose ears chafed terribly under therepetition of this word COINERs.
"Pardon me, monseigneur, for saying such things, but they form myexcuse. The authorities had terrified me, and you know that an innkeepermust keep on good terms with the authorities."
"But once again, that gentleman--where is he? What has become of him? Ishe dead? Is he living?"
"Patience, monseigneur, we are coming to it. There happened then thatwhich you know, and of which your precipitate departure," added thehost, with an acuteness that did not escape d'Artagnan, "appeared toauthorize the issue. That gentleman, your friend, defended himselfdesperately. His lackey, who, by an unforeseen piece of ill luck, hadquarreled with the officers, disguised as stable lads--"
"Miserable scoundrel!" cried d'Artagnan, "you were all in the plot,then! And I really don't know what prevents me from exterminating youall."
"Alas, monseigneur, we were not in the plot, as you will soon see.Monsieur your friend (pardon for not calling him by the honorable namewhich no doubt he bears, but we do not know that name), Monsieur yourfriend, having disabled two men with his pistols, retreated fightingwith his sword, with which he disabled one of my men, and stunned mewith a blow of the flat side of it."
"You villain, will you finish?" cried d'Artagnan, "Athos--what hasbecome of Athos?"
"While fighting and retreating, as I have told Monseigneur, he found thedoor of the cellar stairs behind him, and as the door was open, he tookout the key, and barricaded himself inside. As we were sure of findinghim there, we left him alone."
"Yes," said d'Artagnan, "you did not really wish to kill; you onlywished to imprison him."
"Good God! To imprison him, monseigneur? Why, he imprisoned himself, Iswear to you he did. In the first place he had made rough work of it;one man was killed on the spot, and two others were severely wounded.The dead man and the two wounded were carried off by their comrades, andI have heard nothing of either of them since. As for myself, as soon asI recovered my senses I went to Monsieur the Governor, to whom I
relatedall that had passed, and asked, what I should do with my prisoner.Monsieur the Governor was all astonishment. He told me he knew nothingabout the matter, that the orders I had received did not come from him,and that if I had the audacity to mention his name as being concerned inthis disturbance he would have me hanged. It appears that I had made amistake, monsieur, that I had arrested the wrong person, and that hewhom I ought to have arrested had escaped."
"But Athos!" cried d'Artagnan, whose impatience was increased by thedisregard of the authorities, "Athos, where is he?"
"As I was anxious to repair the wrongs I had done the prisoner," resumedthe innkeeper, "I took my way straight to the cellar in order to set himat liberty. Ah, monsieur, he was no longer a man, he was a devil! To myoffer of liberty, he replied that it was nothing but a snare, and thatbefore he came out he intended to impose his own conditions. I told himvery humbly--for I could not conceal from myself the scrape I had gotinto by laying hands on one of his Majesty's Musketeers--I told him Iwas quite ready to submit to his conditions.
"'In the first place,' said he, 'I wish my lackey placed with me, fullyarmed.' We hastened to obey this order; for you will please tounderstand, monsieur, we were disposed to do everything your friendcould desire. Monsieur Grimaud (he told us his name, although he doesnot talk much)--Monsieur Grimaud, then, went down to the cellar, woundedas he was; then his master, having admitted him, barricaded the doorafresh, and ordered us to remain quietly in our own bar."
"But where is Athos now?" cried d'Artagnan. "Where is Athos?"
"In the cellar, monsieur."
"What, you scoundrel! Have you kept him in the cellar all this time?"
"Merciful heaven! No, monsieur! We keep him in the cellar! You do notknow what he is about in the cellar. Ah! If you could but persuade himto come out, monsieur, I should owe you the gratitude of my whole life;I should adore you as my patron saint!"
"Then he is there? I shall find him there?"
"Without doubt you will, monsieur; he persists in remaining there. Weevery day pass through the air hole some bread at the end of a fork, andsome meat when he asks for it; but alas! It is not of bread and meat ofwhich he makes the greatest consumption. I once endeavored to go downwith two of my servants; but he flew into terrible rage. I heard thenoise he made in loading his pistols, and his servant in loading hismusketoon. Then, when we asked them what were their intentions, themaster replied that he had forty charges to fire, and that he and hislackey would fire to the last one before he would allow a single soul ofus to set foot in the cellar. Upon this I went and complained to thegovernor, who replied that I only had what I deserved, and that it wouldteach me to insult honorable gentlemen who took up their abode in myhouse."
"So that since that time--" replied d'Artagnan, totally unable torefrain from laughing at the pitiable face of the host.
"So from that time, monsieur," continued the latter, "we have led themost miserable life imaginable; for you must know, monsieur, that allour provisions are in the cellar. There is our wine in bottles, and ourwine in casks; the beer, the oil, and the spices, the bacon, andsausages. And as we are prevented from going down there, we are forcedto refuse food and drink to the travelers who come to the house; so thatour hostelry is daily going to ruin. If your friend remains another weekin my cellar I shall be a ruined man."
"And not more than justice, either, you ass! Could you not perceive byour appearance that we were people of quality, and not coiners--say?"
"Yes, monsieur, you are right," said the host. "But, hark, hark! Therehe is!"
"Somebody has disturbed him, without doubt," said d'Artagnan.
"But he must be disturbed," cried the host; "Here are two Englishgentlemen just arrived."
"Well?"
"Well, the English like good wine, as you may know, monsieur; these haveasked for the best. My wife has perhaps requested permission of MonsieurAthos to go into the cellar to satisfy these gentlemen; and he, asusual, has refused. Ah, good heaven! There is the hullabaloo louder thanever!"
D'Artagnan, in fact, heard a great noise on the side next the cellar. Herose, and preceded by the host wringing his hands, and followed byPlanchet with his musketoon ready for use, he approached the scene ofaction.
The two gentlemen were exasperated; they had had a long ride, and weredying with hunger and thirst.
"But this is tyranny!" cried one of them, in very good French, thoughwith a foreign accent, "that this madman will not allow these goodpeople access to their own wine! Nonsense, let us break open the door,and if he is too far gone in his madness, well, we will kill him!"
"Softly, gentlemen!" said d'Artagnan, drawing his pistols from his belt,"you will kill nobody, if you please!"
"Good, good!" cried the calm voice of Athos, from the other side of thedoor, "let them just come in, these devourers of little children, and weshall see!"
Brave as they appeared to be, the two English gentlemen looked at eachother hesitatingly. One might have thought there was in that cellar oneof those famished ogres--the gigantic heroes of popular legends, intowhose cavern nobody could force their way with impunity.
There was a moment of silence; but at length the two Englishmen feltashamed to draw back, and the angrier one descended the five or sixsteps which led to the cellar, and gave a kick against the door enoughto split a wall.
"Planchet," said d'Artagnan, cocking his pistols, "I will take charge ofthe one at the top; you look to the one below. Ah, gentlemen, you wantbattle; and you shall have it."
"Good God!" cried the hollow voice of Athos, "I can hear d'Artagnan, Ithink."
"Yes," cried d'Artagnan, raising his voice in turn, "I am here, myfriend."
"Ah, good, then," replied Athos, "we will teach them, these doorbreakers!"
The gentlemen had drawn their swords, but they found themselves takenbetween two fires. They still hesitated an instant; but, as before,pride prevailed, and a second kick split the door from bottom to top.
"Stand on one side, d'Artagnan, stand on one side," cried Athos. "I amgoing to fire!"
"Gentlemen," exclaimed d'Artagnan, whom reflection never abandoned,"gentlemen, think of what you are about. Patience, Athos! You arerunning your heads into a very silly affair; you will be riddled. Mylackey and I will have three shots at you, and you will get as many fromthe cellar. You will then have our swords, with which, I can assure you,my friend and I can play tolerably well. Let me conduct your businessand my own. You shall soon have something to drink; I give you my word."
"If there is any left," grumbled the jeering voice of Athos.
The host felt a cold sweat creep down his back.
"How! 'If there is any left!'" murmured he.
"What the devil! There must be plenty left," replied d'Artagnan. "Besatisfied of that; these two cannot have drunk all the cellar.Gentlemen, return your swords to their scabbards."
"Well, provided you replace your pistols in your belt."
"Willingly."
And d'Artagnan set the example. Then, turning toward Planchet, he madehim a sign to uncock his musketoon.
The Englishmen, convinced of these peaceful proceedings, sheathed theirswords grumblingly. The history of Athos's imprisonment was then relatedto them; and as they were really gentlemen, they pronounced the host inthe wrong.
"Now, gentlemen," said d'Artagnan, "go up to your room again; and in tenminutes, I will answer for it, you shall have all you desire."
The Englishmen bowed and went upstairs.
"Now I am alone, my dear Athos," said d'Artagnan; "open the door, I begof you."
"Instantly," said Athos.
Then was heard a great noise of fagots being removed and of the groaningof posts; these were the counterscarps and bastions of Athos, which thebesieged himself demolished.
An instant after, the broken door was removed, and the pale face ofAthos appeared, who with a rapid glance took a survey of thesurroundings.
D'Artagnan threw himself on his neck and embraced him tenderly. He thentri
ed to draw him from his moist abode, but to his surprise he perceivedthat Athos staggered.
"You are wounded," said he.
"I! Not at all. I am dead drunk, that's all, and never did a man morestrongly set about getting so. By the Lord, my good host! I must atleast have drunk for my part a hundred and fifty bottles."
"Mercy!" cried the host, "if the lackey has drunk only half as much asthe master, I am a ruined man."
"Grimaud is a well-bred lackey. He would never think of faring in thesame manner as his master; he only drank from the cask. Hark! I don'tthink he put the faucet in again. Do you hear it? It is running now."
D'Artagnan burst into a laugh which changed the shiver of the host intoa burning fever.
In the meantime, Grimaud appeared in his turn behind his master, withthe musketoon on his shoulder, and his head shaking. Like one of thosedrunken satyrs in the pictures of Rubens. He was moistened before andbehind with a greasy liquid which the host recognized as his best oliveoil.
The four crossed the public room and proceeded to take possession of thebest apartment in the house, which d'Artagnan occupied with authority.
In the meantime the host and his wife hurried down with lamps into thecellar, which had so long been interdicted to them and where a frightfulspectacle awaited them.
Beyond the fortifications through which Athos had made a breach in orderto get out, and which were composed of fagots, planks, and empty casks,heaped up according to all the rules of the strategic art, they found,swimming in puddles of oil and wine, the bones and fragments of all thehams they had eaten; while a heap of broken bottles filled the wholeleft-hand corner of the cellar, and a tun, the cock of which was leftrunning, was yielding, by this means, the last drop of its blood. "Theimage of devastation and death," as the ancient poet says, "reigned asover a field of battle."
Of fifty large sausages, suspended from the joists, scarcely tenremained.
Then the lamentations of the host and hostess pierced the vault of thecellar. D'Artagnan himself was moved by them. Athos did not even turnhis head.
To grief succeeded rage. The host armed himself with a spit, and rushedinto the chamber occupied by the two friends.
"Some wine!" said Athos, on perceiving the host.
"Some wine!" cried the stupefied host, "some wine? Why you have drunkmore than a hundred pistoles' worth! I am a ruined man, lost,destroyed!"
"Bah," said Athos, "we were always dry."
"If you had been contented with drinking, well and good; but you havebroken all the bottles."
"You pushed me upon a heap which rolled down. That was your fault."
"All my oil is lost!"
"Oil is a sovereign balm for wounds; and my poor Grimaud here wasobliged to dress those you had inflicted on him."
"All my sausages are gnawed!"
"There is an enormous quantity of rats in that cellar."
"You shall pay me for all this," cried the exasperated host.
"Triple ass!" said Athos, rising; but he sank down again immediately. Hehad tried his strength to the utmost. D'Artagnan came to his relief withhis whip in his hand.
The host drew back and burst into tears.
"This will teach you," said d'Artagnan, "to treat the guests God sendsyou in a more courteous fashion."
"God? Say the devil!"
"My dear friend," said d'Artagnan, "if you annoy us in this manner wewill all four go and shut ourselves up in your cellar, and we will seeif the mischief is as great as you say."
"Oh, gentlemen," said the host, "I have been wrong. I confess it, butpardon to every sin! You are gentlemen, and I am a poor innkeeper. Youwill have pity on me."
"Ah, if you speak in that way," said Athos, "you will break my heart,and the tears will flow from my eyes as the wine flowed from the cask.We are not such devils as we appear to be. Come hither, and let ustalk."
The host approached with hesitation.
"Come hither, I say, and don't be afraid," continued Athos. "At the verymoment when I was about to pay you, I had placed my purse on the table."
"Yes, monsieur."
"That purse contained sixty pistoles; where is it?"
"Deposited with the justice; they said it was bad money."
"Very well; get me my purse back and keep the sixty pistoles."
"But Monseigneur knows very well that justice never lets go that whichit once lays hold of. If it were bad money, there might be some hopes;but unfortunately, those were all good pieces."
"Manage the matter as well as you can, my good man; it does not concernme, the more so as I have not a livre left."
"Come," said d'Artagnan, "let us inquire further. Athos's horse, whereis that?"
"In the stable."
"How much is it worth?"
"Fifty pistoles at most."
"It's worth eighty. Take it, and there ends the matter."
"What," cried Athos, "are you selling my horse--my Bajazet? And prayupon what shall I make my campaign; upon Grimaud?"
"I have brought you another," said d'Artagnan.
"Another?"
"And a magnificent one!" cried the host.
"Well, since there is another finer and younger, why, you may take theold one; and let us drink."
"What?" asked the host, quite cheerful again.
"Some of that at the bottom, near the laths. There are twenty-fivebottles of it left; all the rest were broken by my fall. Bring six ofthem."
"Why, this man is a cask!" said the host, aside. "If he only remainshere a fortnight, and pays for what he drinks, I shall soon re-establishmy business."
"And don't forget," said d'Artagnan, "to bring up four bottles of thesame sort for the two English gentlemen."
"And now," said Athos, "while they bring the wine, tell me, d'Artagnan,what has become of the others, come!"
D'Artagnan related how he had found Porthos in bed with a strained knee,and Aramis at a table between two theologians. As he finished, the hostentered with the wine ordered and a ham which, fortunately for him, hadbeen left out of the cellar.
"That's well!" said Athos, filling his glass and that of his friend;"here's to Porthos and Aramis! But you, d'Artagnan, what is the matterwith you, and what has happened to you personally? You have a sad air."
"Alas," said d'Artagnan, "it is because I am the most unfortunate."
"Tell me."
"Presently," said d'Artagnan.
"Presently! And why presently? Because you think I am drunk? D'Artagnan,remember this! My ideas are never so clear as when I have had plenty ofwine. Speak, then, I am all ears."
D'Artagnan related his adventure with Mme. Bonacieux. Athos listened tohim without a frown; and when he had finished, said, "Trifles, onlytrifles!" That was his favorite word.
"You always say TRIFLES, my dear Athos!" said d'Artagnan, "and that comevery ill from you, who have never loved."
The drink-deadened eye of Athos flashed out, but only for a moment; itbecame as dull and vacant as before.
"That's true," said he, quietly, "for my part I have never loved."
"Acknowledge, then, you stony heart," said d'Artagnan, "that you arewrong to be so hard upon us tender hearts."
"Tender hearts! Pierced hearts!" said Athos.
"What do you say?"
"I say that love is a lottery in which he who wins, wins death! You arevery fortunate to have lost, believe me, my dear d'Artagnan. And if Ihave any counsel to give, it is, always lose!"
"She seemed to love me so!"
"She SEEMED, did she?"
"Oh, she DID love me!"
"You child, why, there is not a man who has not believed, as you do,that his mistress loved him, and there lives not a man who has not beendeceived by his mistress."
"Except you, Athos, who never had one."
"That's true," said Athos, after a moment's silence, "that's true! Inever had one! Let us drink!"
"But then, philosopher that you are," said d'Artagnan, "instruct me,support me. I stand in need of being taught an
d consoled."
"Consoled for what?"
"For my misfortune."
"Your misfortune is laughable," said Athos, shrugging his shoulders; "Ishould like to know what you would say if I were to relate to you a realtale of love!"
"Which has happened to you?"
"Or one of my friends, what matters?"
"Tell it, Athos, tell it."
"Better if I drink."
"Drink and relate, then."
"Not a bad idea!" said Athos, emptying and refilling his glass. "The twothings agree marvelously well."
"I am all attention," said d'Artagnan.
Athos collected himself, and in proportion as he did so, d'Artagnan sawthat he became pale. He was at that period of intoxication in whichvulgar drinkers fall on the floor and go to sleep. He kept himselfupright and dreamed, without sleeping. This somnambulism of drunkennesshad something frightful in it.
"You particularly wish it?" asked he.
"I pray for it," said d'Artagnan.
"Be it then as you desire. One of my friends--one of my friends, pleaseto observe, not myself," said Athos, interrupting himself with amelancholy smile, "one of the counts of my province--that is to say, ofBerry--noble as a Dandolo or a Montmorency, at twenty-five years of agefell in love with a girl of sixteen, beautiful as fancy can paint.Through the ingenuousness of her age beamed an ardent mind, not of thewoman, but of the poet. She did not please; she intoxicated. She livedin a small town with her brother, who was a curate. Both had recentlycome into the country. They came nobody knew whence; but when seeing herso lovely and her brother so pious, nobody thought of asking whence theycame. They were said, however, to be of good extraction. My friend, whowas seigneur of the country, might have seduced her, or taken her byforce, at his will--for he was master. Who would have come to theassistance of two strangers, two unknown persons? Unfortunately he wasan honorable man; he married her. The fool! The ass! The idiot!"
"How so, if he love her?" asked d'Artagnan.
"Wait," said Athos. "He took her to his chateau, and made her the firstlady in the province; and in justice it must be allowed that shesupported her rank becomingly."
"Well?" asked d'Artagnan.
"Well, one day when she was hunting with her husband," continued Athos,in a low voice, and speaking very quickly, "she fell from her horse andfainted. The count flew to her to help, and as she appeared to beoppressed by her clothes, he ripped them open with his poniard, and inso doing laid bare her shoulder. D'Artagnan," said Athos, with amaniacal burst of laughter, "guess what she had on her shoulder."
"How can I tell?" said d'Artagnan.
"A FLEUR-DE-LIS," said Athos. "She was branded."
Athos emptied at a single draught the glass he held in his hand.
"Horror!" cried d'Artagnan. "What do you tell me?"
"Truth, my friend. The angel was a demon; the poor young girl had stolenthe sacred vessels from a church."
"And what did the count do?"
"The count was of the highest nobility. He had on his estates the rightsof high and low tribunals. He tore the dress of the countess to pieces;he tied her hands behind her, and hanged her on a tree."
"Heavens, Athos, a murder?" cried d'Artagnan.
"No less," said Athos, as pale as a corpse. "But methinks I need wine!"and he seized by the neck the last bottle that was left, put it to hismouth, and emptied it at a single draught, as he would have emptied anordinary glass.
Then he let his head sink upon his two hands, while d'Artagnan stoodbefore him, stupefied.
"That has cured me of beautiful, poetical, and loving women," saidAthos, after a considerable pause, raising his head, and forgetting tocontinue the fiction of the count. "God grant you as much! Let usdrink."
"Then she is dead?" stammered d'Artagnan.
"PARBLEU!" said Athos. "But hold out your glass. Some ham, my boy, or wecan't drink."
"And her brother?" added d'Artagnan, timidly.
"Her brother?" replied Athos.
"Yes, the priest."
"Oh, I inquired after him for the purpose of hanging him likewise; buthe was beforehand with me, he had quit the curacy the night before."
"Was it ever known who this miserable fellow was?"
"He was doubtless the first lover and accomplice of the fair lady. Aworthy man, who had pretended to be a curate for the purpose of gettinghis mistress married, and securing her a position. He has been hangedand quartered, I hope."
"My God, my God!" cried d'Artagnan, quite stunned by the relation ofthis horrible adventure.
"Taste some of this ham, d'Artagnan; it is exquisite," said Athos,cutting a slice, which he placed on the young man's plate.
"What a pity it is there were only four like this in the cellar. I couldhave drunk fifty bottles more."
D'Artagnan could no longer endure this conversation, which had made himbewildered. Allowing his head to sink upon his two hands, he pretendedto sleep.
"These young fellows can none of them drink," said Athos, looking at himwith pity, "and yet this is one of the best!"