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THE THREE
MUSKETEERS
By
Alexandre Dumas

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1
Contents
The Three Musketeers ............................................................... 1
Contents .................................................................................... 2
AUTHOR'S PREFACE .............................................................. 3
1 THE THREE PRESENTS OF D'ARTAGNAN THE ELDER ..... 6
2 THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE TREVILLE ....................... 25
3 THE AUDIENCE ..................................................................... 38
4 THE SHOULDER OF ATHOS, THE BALDRIC OF PORTHOS
AND THE HANDKERCHIEF OF ARAMIS ............................... 52

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AUTHOR'S PREFACE

I N which it is proved that, notwithstanding their names' ending

in OS and IS, the heroes of the story which we are about to have
the honor to relate to our readers have nothing mythological
about them.
A short time ago, while making researches in the Royal Library
for my History of Louis XIV, I stumbled by chance upon the
Memoirs of M. d'Artagnan, printed--as were most of the works of
that period, in which authors could not tell the truth without the
risk of a residence, more or less long, in the Bastille--at
Amsterdam, by Pierre Rouge. The title attracted me; I took them
home with me, with the permission of the guardian, and devoured
them.
It is not my intention here to enter into an analysis of this
curious work; and I shall satisfy myself with referring such of my
readers as appreciate the pictures of the period to its pages. They
will therein find portraits penciled by the hand of a master; and
although these squibs may be, for the most part, traced upon the
doors of barracks and the walls of cabarets, they will not find the
likenesses of Louis XIII, Anne of Austria, Richelieu, Mazarin, and
the courtiers of the period, less faithful than in the history of M.
Anquetil.
But, it is well known, what strikes the capricious mind of the
poet is not always what affects the mass of readers. Now, while
admiring, as others doubtless will admire, the details we have to
relate, our main preoccupation concerned a matter to which no
one before ourselves had given a thought.

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 D'Artagnan relates that on his first visit to M. de Treville,
captain of the king's Musketeers, he met in the antechamber three
young men, serving in the illustrious corps into which he was
soliciting the honor of being received, bearing the names of Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis.
We must confess these three strange names struck us; and it
immediately occurred to us that they were but pseudonyms, under
which d'Artagnan had disguised names perhaps illustrious, or else
that the bearers of these borrowed names had themselves chosen
them on the day in which, from caprice, discontent, or want of
fortune, they had donned the simple Musketeer's uniform.
From that moment we had no rest till we could find some trace
in contemporary works of these extraordinary names which had
so strongly awakened our curiosity.
The catalogue alone of the books we read with this object
would fill a whole chapter, which, although it might be very
instructive, would certainly afford our readers but little
amusement. It will suffice, then, to tell them that at the moment
at which, discouraged by so many fruitless investigations, we were
about to abandon our search, we at length found, guided by the
counsels of our illustrious friend Paulin Paris, a manuscript in
folio, endorsed 4772 or 4773, we do not recollect which, having for
title, "Memoirs of the Comte de la Fere, Touching Some Events
Which Passed in France Toward the End of the Reign of King
Louis XIII and the Commencement of the Reign of King Louis
XIV."
It may be easily imagined how great was our joy when, in
turning over this manuscript, our last hope, we found at the
twentieth page the name of Athos, at the twenty-seventh the name
of Porthos, and at the thirty-first the name of Aramis.

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 The discovery of a completely unknown manuscript at a period
in which historical science is carried to such a high degree
appeared almost miraculous. We hastened, therefore, to obtain
permission to print it, with the view of presenting ourselves
someday with the pack of others at the doors of the Academie des
Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, if we should not succeed--a very
probable thing, by the by--in gaining admission to the Academie
Francaise with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel
bound to say, was graciously granted; which compels us here to
give a public contradiction to the slanderers who pretend that we
live under a government but moderately indulgent to men of
letters.
Now, this is the first part of this precious manuscript which we
offer to our readers, restoring it to the title which belongs to it,
and entering into an engagement that if (of which we have no
doubt) this first part should obtain the success it merits, we will
publish the second immediately.
In the meanwhile, as the godfather is a second father, we beg
the reader to lay to our account, and not to that of the Comte de la
Fere, the pleasure or the ENNUI he may experience.
This being understood, let us proceed with our history.

5
 1 THE THREE PRESENTS OF
D'ARTAGNAN THE ELDER

O N the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the market

town of Meung, in which the author of ROMANCE OF THE ROSE
was born, appeared to be in as perfect a state of revolution as if
the Huguenots had just made a second La Rochelle of it. Many
citizens, seeing the women flying toward the High Street, leaving
their children crying at the open doors, hastened to don the
cuirass, and supporting their somewhat uncertain courage with a
musket or a partisan, directed their steps toward the hostelry of
the Jolly Miller, before which was gathered, increasing every
minute, a compact group, vociferous and full of curiosity.
In those times panics were common, and few days passed
without some city or other registering in its archives an event of
this kind. There were nobles, who made war against each other;
there was the king, who made war against the cardinal; there was
Spain, which made war against the king. Then, in addition to
these concealed or public, secret or open wars, there were robbers,
mendicants, Huguenots, wolves, and scoundrels, who made war
upon everybody. The citizens always took up arms readily against
thieves, wolves or scoundrels, often against nobles or Huguenots,
sometimes against the king, but never against the cardinal or
Spain. It resulted, then, from this habit that on the said first
Monday of April, 1625, the citizens, on hearing the clamor, and
seeing neither the red-and-yellow standard nor the livery of the
Duc de Richelieu, rushed toward the hostel of the Jolly Miller.
When arrived there, the cause of the hubbub was apparent to all.

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 A young man--we can sketch his portrait at a dash. Imagine to
yourself a Don Quixote of eighteen; a Don Quixote without his
corselet, without his coat of mail, without his cuisses; a Don
Quixote clothed in a woolen doublet, the blue color of which had
faded into a nameless shade between lees of wine and a heavenly
azure; face long and brown; high cheek bones, a sign of sagacity;
the maxillary muscles enormously developed, an infallible sign by
which a Gascon may always be detected, even without his cap--
and our young man wore a cap set off with a sort of feather; the
eye open and intelligent; the nose hooked, but finely chiseled. Too
big for a youth, too small for a grown man, an experienced eye
might have taken him for a farmer's son upon a journey had it not
been for the long sword which, dangling from a leather baldric, hit
against the calves of its owner as he walked, and against the rough
side of his steed when he was on horseback.
For our young man had a steed which was the observed of all
observers. It was a Bearn pony, from twelve to fourteen years old,
yellow in his hide, without a hair in his tail, but not without
windgalls on his legs, which, though going with his head lower
than his knees, rendering a martingale quite unnecessary,
contrived nevertheless to perform his eight leagues a day.
Unfortunately, the qualities of this horse were so well concealed
under his strange-colored hide and his unaccountable gait, that at
a time when everybody was a connoisseur in horseflesh, the
appearance of the aforesaid pony at Meung--which place he had
entered about a quarter of an hour before, by the gate of
Beaugency--produced an unfavorable feeling, which extended to
his rider.
And this feeling had been more painfully perceived by young
d'Artagnan--for so was the Don Quixote of this second Rosinante
named--from his not being able to conceal from himself the

7
ridiculous appearance that such a steed gave him, good horseman
as he was. He had sighed deeply, therefore, when accepting the
gift of the pony from M. d'Artagnan the elder. He was not ignorant
that such a beast was worth at least twenty livres; and the words
which had accompanied the present were above all price.
"My son," said the old Gascon gentleman, in that pure Bearn
PATOIS of which Henry IV could never rid himself, "this horse
was born in the house of your father about thirteen years ago, and
has remained in it ever since, which ought to make you love it.
Never sell it; allow it to die tranquilly and honorably of old age,
and if you make a campaign with it, take as much care of it as you
would of an old servant. At court, provided you have ever the
honor to go there," continued M. d'Artagnan the elder, "--an
honor to which, remember, your ancient nobility gives you the
right--sustain worthily your name of gentleman, which has been
worthily borne by your ancestors for five hundred years, both for
your own sake and the sake of those who belong to you. By the
latter I mean your relatives and friends. Endure nothing from
anyone except Monsieur the Cardinal and the king. It is by his
courage, please observe, by his courage alone, that a gentleman
can make his way nowadays. Whoever hesitates for a second
perhaps allows the bait to escape which during that exact second
fortune held out to him. You are young. You ought to be brave for
two reasons: the first is that you are a Gascon, and the second is
that you are my son. Never fear quarrels, but seek adventures. I
have taught you how to handle a sword; you have thews of iron, a
wrist of steel. Fight on all occasions. Fight the more for duels
being forbidden, since consequently there is twice as much
courage in fighting. I have nothing to give you, my son, but fifteen
crowns, my horse, and the counsels you have just heard. Your
mother will add to them a recipe for a certain balsam, which she

8
had from a Bohemian and which has the miraculous virtue of
curing all wounds that do not reach the heart. Take advantage of
all, and live happily and long. I have but one word to add, and that
is to propose an example to you--not mine, for I myself have never
appeared at court, and have only taken part in religious wars as a
volunteer; I speak of Monsieur de Treville, who was formerly my
neighbor, and who had the honor to be, as a child, the play-fellow
of our king, Louis XIII, whom God preserve! Sometimes their play
degenerated into battles, and in these battles the king was not
always the stronger. The blows which he received increased
greatly his esteem and friendship for Monsieur de Treville.
Afterward, Monsieur de Treville fought with others: in his first
journey to Paris, five times; from the death of the late king till the
young one came of age, without reckoning wars and sieges, seven
times; and from that date up to the present day, a hundred times,
perhaps! So that in spite of edicts, ordinances, and decrees, there
he is, captain of the Musketeers; that is to say, chief of a legion of
Caesars, whom the king holds in great esteem and whom the
cardinal dreads--he who dreads nothing, as it is said. Still further,
Monsieur de Treville gains ten thousand crowns a year; he is
therefore a great noble. He began as you begin. Go to him with
this letter, and make him your model in order that you may do as
he has done."
Upon which M. d'Artagnan the elder girded his own sword
round his son, kissed him tenderly on both cheeks, and gave him
his benediction.
On leaving the paternal chamber, the young man found his
mother, who was waiting for him with the famous recipe of which
the counsels we have just repeated would necessitate frequent
employment. The adieux were on this side longer and more tender
than they had been on the other--not that M. d'Artagnan did not

9
love his son, who was his only offspring, but M. d'Artagnan was a
man, and he would have considered it unworthy of a man to give
way to his feelings; whereas Mme. d'Artagnan was a woman, and
still more, a mother. She wept abundantly; and--let us speak it to
the praise of M. d'Artagnan the younger--notwithstanding the
efforts he made to remain firm, as a future Musketeer ought,
nature prevailed, and he shed many tears, of which he succeeded
with great difficulty in concealing the half.
The same day the young man set forward on his journey,
furnished with the three paternal gifts, which consisted, as we
have said, of fifteen crowns, the horse, and the letter for M. de
Treville--the counsels being thrown into the bargain.
With such a VADE MECUM d'Artagnan was morally and
physically an exact copy of the hero of Cervantes, to whom we so
happily compared him when our duty of an historian placed us
under the necessity of sketching his portrait. Don Quixote took
windmills for giants, and sheep for armies; d'Artagnan took every
smile for an insult, and every look as a provocation--whence it
resulted that from Tarbes to Meung his fist was constantly
doubled, or his hand on the hilt of his sword; and yet the fist did
not descend upon any jaw, nor did the sword issue from its
scabbard. It was not that the sight of the wretched pony did not
excite numerous smiles on the countenances of passers-by; but as
against the side of this pony rattled a sword of respectable length,
and as over this sword gleamed an eye rather ferocious than
haughty, these passers-by repressed their hilarity, or if hilarity
prevailed over prudence, they endeavored to laugh only on one
side, like the masks of the ancients. D'Artagnan, then, remained
majestic and intact in his susceptibility, till he came to this
unlucky city of Meung.

10
 But there, as he was alighting from his horse at the gate of the
Jolly Miller, without anyone--host, waiter, or hostler--coming to
hold his stirrup or take his horse, d'Artagnan spied, though an
open window on the ground floor, a gentleman, well-made and of
good carriage, although of rather a stern countenance, talking
with two persons who appeared to listen to him with respect.
D'Artagnan fancied quite naturally, according to his custom, that
he must be the object of their conversation, and listened. This
time d'Artagnan was only in part mistaken; he himself was not in
question, but his horse was. The gentleman appeared to be
enumerating all his qualities to his auditors; and, as I have said,
the auditors seeming to have great deference for the narrator, they
every moment burst into fits of laughter. Now, as a half-smile was
sufficient to awaken the irascibility of the young man, the effect
produced upon him by this vociferous mirth may be easily
imagined.
Nevertheless, d'Artagnan was desirous of examining the
appearance of this impertinent personage who ridiculed him. He
fixed his haughty eye upon the stranger, and perceived a man of
from forty to forty-five years of age, with black and piercing eyes,
pale complexion, a strongly marked nose, and a black and well-
shaped mustache. He was dressed in a doublet and hose of a violet
color, with aiguillettes of the same color, without any other
ornaments than the customary slashes, through which the shirt
appeared. This doublet and hose, though new, were creased, like
traveling clothes for a long time packed in a portmanteau.
D'Artagnan made all these remarks with the rapidity of a most
minute observer, and doubtless from an instinctive feeling that
this stranger was destined to have a great influence over his future
life.

11
 Now, as at the moment in which d'Artagnan fixed his eyes
upon the gentleman in the violet doublet, the gentleman made
one of his most knowing and profound remarks respecting the
Bearnese pony, his two auditors laughed even louder than before,
and he himself, though contrary to his custom, allowed a pale
smile (if I may be allowed to use such an expression) to stray over
his countenance. This time there could be no doubt; d'Artagnan
was really insulted. Full, then, of this conviction, he pulled his cap
down over his eyes, and endeavoring to copy some of the court
airs he had picked up in Gascony among young traveling nobles,
he advanced with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other
resting on his hip. Unfortunately, as he advanced, his anger
increased at every step; and instead of the proper and lofty speech
he had prepared as a prelude to his challenge, he found nothing at
the tip of his tongue but a gross personality, which he
accompanied with a furious gesture.
"I say, sir, you sir, who are hiding yourself behind that shutter-
-yes, you, sir, tell me what you are laughing at, and we will laugh
together!"
The gentleman raised his eyes slowly from the nag to his
cavalier, as if he required some time to ascertain whether it could
be to him that such strange reproaches were addressed; then,
when he could not possibly entertain any doubt of the matter, his
eyebrows slightly bent, and with an accent of irony and insolence
impossible to be described, he replied to d'Artagnan, "I was not
speaking to you, sir."
"But I am speaking to you!" replied the young man,
additionally exasperated with this mixture of insolence and good
manners, of politeness and scorn.
The stranger looked at him again with a slight smile, and
retiring from the window, came out of the hostelry with a slow

12
step, and placed himself before the horse, within two paces of
d'Artagnan. His quiet manner and the ironical expression of his
countenance redoubled the mirth of the persons with whom he
had been talking, and who still remained at the window.
D'Artagnan, seeing him approach, drew his sword a foot out of
the scabbard.
"This horse is decidedly, or rather has been in his youth, a
buttercup," resumed the stranger, continuing the remarks he had
begun, and addressing himself to his auditors at the window,
without paying the least attention to the exasperation of
d'Artagnan, who, however, placed himself between him and them.
"It is a color very well known in botany, but till the present time
very rare among horses."
"There are people who laugh at the horse that would not dare
to laugh at the master," cried the young emulator of the furious
Treville.
"I do not often laugh, sir," replied the stranger, "as you may
perceive by the expression of my countenance; but nevertheless I
retain the privilege of laughing when I please."
"And I," cried d'Artagnan, "will allow no man to laugh when it
displeases me!"
"Indeed, sir," continued the stranger, more calm than ever;
"well, that is perfectly right!" and turning on his heel, was about to
re-enter the hostelry by the front gate, beneath which d'Artagnan
on arriving had observed a saddled horse.
But, d'Artagnan was not of a character to allow a man to
escape him thus who had the insolence to ridicule him. He drew
his sword entirely from the scabbard, and followed him, crying,
"Turn, turn, Master Joker, lest I strike you behind!"
"Strike me!" said the other, turning on his heels, and surveying
the young man with as much astonishment as contempt. "Why,

13
my good fellow, you must be mad!" Then, in a suppressed tone, as
if speaking to himself, "This is annoying," continued he. "What a
godsend this would be for his Majesty, who is seeking everywhere
for brave fellows to recruit for his Musketeers!"
He had scarcely finished, when d'Artagnan made such a
furious lunge at him that if he had not sprung nimbly backward, it
is probable he would have jested for the last time. The stranger,
then perceiving that the matter went beyond raillery, drew his
sword, saluted his adversary, and seriously placed himself on
guard. But at the same moment, his two auditors, accompanied by
the host, fell upon d'Artagnan with sticks, shovels and tongs. This
caused so rapid and complete a diversion from the attack that
d'Artagnan's adversary, while the latter turned round to face this
shower of blows, sheathed his sword with the same precision, and
instead of an actor, which he had nearly been, became a spectator
of the fight--a part in which he acquitted himself with his usual
impassiveness, muttering, nevertheless, "A plague upon these
Gascons! Replace him on his orange horse, and let him begone!"
"Not before I have killed you, poltroon!" cried d'Artagnan,
making the best face possible, and never retreating one step
before his three assailants, who continued to shower blows upon
him.
"Another gasconade!" murmured the gentleman. "By my
honor, these Gascons are incorrigible! Keep up the dance, then,
since he will have it so. When he is tired, he will perhaps tell us
that he has had enough of it."
But the stranger knew not the headstrong personage he had to
do with; d'Artagnan was not the man ever to cry for quarter. The
fight was therefore prolonged for some seconds; but at length
d'Artagnan dropped his sword, which was broken in two pieces by
the blow of a stick. Another blow full upon his forehead at the

14
same moment brought him to the ground, covered with blood and
almost fainting.
It was at this moment that people came flocking to the scene of
action from all sides. The host, fearful of consequences, with the
help of his servants carried the wounded man into the kitchen,
where some trifling attentions were bestowed upon him.
As to the gentleman, he resumed his place at the window, and
surveyed the crowd with a certain impatience, evidently annoyed
by their remaining undispersed.
"Well, how is it with this madman?" exclaimed he, turning
round as the noise of the door announced the entrance of the host,
who came in to inquire if he was unhurt.
"Your excellency is safe and sound?" asked the host.
"Oh, yes! Perfectly safe and sound, my good host; and I wish to
know what has become of our young man."
"He is better," said the host, "he fainted quite away."
"Indeed!" said the gentleman.
"But before he fainted, he collected all his strength to
challenge you, and to defy you while challenging you."
"Why, this fellow must be the devil in person!" cried the
stranger.
"Oh, no, your Excellency, he is not the devil," replied the host,
with a grin of contempt; "for during his fainting we rummaged his
valise and found nothing but a clean shirt and eleven crowns--
which however, did not prevent his saying, as he was fainting, that
if such a thing had happened in Paris, you should have cause to
repent of it at a later period."
"Then," said the stranger coolly, "he must be some prince in
disguise."
"I have told you this, good sir," resumed the host, "in order
that you may be on your guard."

15
 "Did he name no one in his passion?"
"Yes; he struck his pocket and said, 'We shall see what
Monsieur de Treville will think of this insult offered to his
protege.'"
"Monsieur de Treville?" said the stranger, becoming attentive,
"he put his hand upon his pocket while pronouncing the name of
Monsieur de Treville? Now, my dear host, while your young man
was insensible, you did not fail, I am quite sure, to ascertain what
that pocket contained. What was there in it?"
"A letter addressed to Monsieur de Treville, captain of the
Musketeers."
"Indeed!"
"Exactly as I have the honor to tell your Excellency."
The host, who was not endowed with great perspicacity, did
not observe the expression which his words had given to the
physiognomy of the stranger. The latter rose from the front of the
window, upon the sill of which he had leaned with his elbow, and
knitted his brow like a man disquieted.
"The devil!" murmured he, between his teeth. "Can Treville
have set this Gascon upon me? He is very young; but a sword
thrust is a sword thrust, whatever be the age of him who gives it,
and a youth is less to be suspected than an older man," and the
stranger fell into a reverie which lasted some minutes. "A weak
obstacle is sometimes sufficient to overthrow a great design.
"Host," said he, "could you not contrive to get rid of this frantic
boy for me? In conscience, I cannot kill him; and yet," added he,
with a coldly menacing expression, "he annoys me. Where is he?"
"In my wife's chamber, on the first flight, where they are
dressing his wounds."
"His things and his bag are with him? Has he taken off his
doublet?"

16
 "On the contrary, everything is in the kitchen. But if he annoys
you, this young fool--"
"To be sure he does. He causes a disturbance in your hostelry,
which respectable people cannot put up with. Go; make out my
bill and notify my servant."
"What, monsieur, will you leave us so soon?"
"You know that very well, as I gave my order to saddle my
horse. Have they not obeyed me?"
"It is done; as your Excellency may have observed, your horse
is in the great gateway, ready saddled for your departure."
"That is well; do as I have directed you, then."
"What the devil!" said the host to himself. "Can he be afraid of
this boy?" But an imperious glance from the stranger stopped him
short; he bowed humbly and retired.
"It is not necessary for Milady* to be seen by this fellow,"
continued the stranger. "She will soon pass; she is already late. I
had better get on horseback, and go and meet her. I should like,
however, to know what this letter addressed to Treville contains."
re well aware that this term, milady, is only properly used when followed
by a family name. But we find it thus in the manuscript, and we
do not choose to take upon ourselves to alter it.
And the stranger, muttering to himself, directed his steps toward
the kitchen.
In the meantime, the host, who entertained no doubt that it
was the presence of the young man that drove the stranger from
his hostelry, re-ascended to his wife's chamber, and found
d'Artagnan just recovering his senses. Giving him to understand
that the police would deal with him pretty severely for having
sought a quarrel with a great lord--for in the opinion of the host
the stranger could be nothing less than a great lord--he insisted
that notwithstanding his weakness d'Artagnan should get up and

17
depart as quickly as possible. D'Artagnan, half stupefied, without
his doublet, and with his head bound up in a linen cloth, arose
then, and urged by the host, began to descend the stairs; but on
arriving at the kitchen, the first thing he saw was his antagonist
talking calmly at the step of a heavy carriage, drawn by two large
Norman horses.
His interlocutor, whose head appeared through the carriage
window, was a woman of from twenty to two-and-twenty years.
We have already observed with what rapidity d'Artagnan seized
the expression of a countenance. He perceived then, at a glance,
that this woman was young and beautiful; and her style of beauty
struck him more forcibly from its being totally different from that
of the southern countries in which d'Artagnan had hitherto
resided. She was pale and fair, with long curls falling in profusion
over her shoulders, had large, blue, languishing eyes, rosy lips,
and hands of alabaster. She was talking with great animation with
the stranger.
"His Eminence, then, orders me--" said the lady.
"To return instantly to England, and to inform him as soon as
the duke leaves London."
"And as to my other instructions?" asked the fair traveler.
"They are contained in this box, which you will not open until
you are on the other side of the Channel."
"Very well; and you--what will you do?"
"I--I return to Paris."
"What, without chastising this insolent boy?" asked the lady.
The stranger was about to reply; but at the moment he opened
his mouth, d'Artagnan, who had heard all, precipitated himself
over the threshold of the door.

18
 "This insolent boy chastises others," cried he; "and I hope that
this time he whom he ought to chastise will not escape him as
before."
"Will not escape him?" replied the stranger, knitting his brow.
"No; before a woman you would dare not fly, I presume?"
"Remember," said Milady, seeing the stranger lay his hand on
his sword, "the least delay may ruin everything."
"You are right," cried the gentleman; "begone then, on your
part, and I will depart as quickly on mine." And bowing to the
lady, he sprang into his saddle, while her coachman applied his
whip vigorously to his horses. The two interlocutors thus
separated, taking opposite directions, at full gallop.
"Pay him, booby!" cried the stranger to his servant, without
checking the speed of his horse; and the man, after throwing two
or three silver pieces at the foot of mine host, galloped after his
master.
"Base coward! false gentleman!" cried d'Artagnan, springing
forward, in his turn, after the servant. But his wound had
rendered him too weak to support such an exertion. Scarcely had
he gone ten steps when his ears began to tingle, a faintness seized
him, a cloud of blood passed over his eyes, and he fell in the
middle of the street, crying still, "Coward! coward! coward!"
"He is a coward, indeed," grumbled the host, drawing near to
d'Artagnan, and endeavoring by this little flattery to make up
matters with the young man, as the heron of the fable did with the
snail he had despised the evening before.
"Yes, a base coward," murmured d'Artagnan; "but she--she
was very beautiful."
"What she?" demanded the host.
"Milady," faltered d'Artagnan, and fainted a second time.

19
 "Ah, it's all one," said the host; "I have lost two customers, but
this one remains, of whom I am pretty certain for some days to
come. There will be eleven crowns gained."
It is to be remembered that eleven crowns was just the sum
that remained in d'Artagnan's purse.
The host had reckoned upon eleven days of confinement at a
crown a day, but he had reckoned without his guest. On the
following morning at five o'clock d'Artagnan arose, and
descending to the kitchen without help, asked, among other
ingredients the list of which has not come down to us, for some
oil, some wine, and some rosemary, and with his mother's recipe
in his hand composed a balsam, with which he anointed his
numerous wounds, replacing his bandages himself, and positively
refusing the assistance of any doctor, d'Artagnan walked about
that same evening, and was almost cured by the morrow.
But when the time came to pay for his rosemary, this oil, and
the wine, the only expense the master had incurred, as he had
preserved a strict abstinence--while on the contrary, the yellow
horse, by the account of the hostler at least, had eaten three times
as much as a horse of his size could reasonably be supposed to
have done--d'Artagnan found nothing in his pocket but his little
old velvet purse with the eleven crowns it contained; for as to the
letter addressed to M. de Treville, it had disappeared.
The young man commenced his search for the letter with the
greatest patience, turning out his pockets of all kinds over and
over again, rummaging and rerummaging in his valise, and
opening and reopening his purse; but when he found that he had
come to the conviction that the letter was not to be found, he flew,
for the third time, into such a rage as was near costing him a fresh
consumption of wine, oil, and rosemary--for upon seeing this hot-
headed youth become exasperated and threaten to destroy

20
everything in the establishment if his letter were not found, the
host seized a spit, his wife a broom handle, and the servants the
same sticks they had used the day before.
"My letter of recommendation!" cried d'Artagnan, "my letter of
recommendation! or, the holy blood, I will spit you all like
ortolans!"
Unfortunately, there was one circumstance which created a
powerful obstacle to the accomplishment of this threat; which
was, as we have related, that his sword had been in his first
conflict broken in two, and which he had entirely forgotten.
Hence, it resulted when d'Artagnan proceeded to draw his sword
in earnest, he found himself purely and simply armed with a
stump of a sword about eight or ten inches in length, which the
host had carefully placed in the scabbard. As to the rest of the
blade, the master had slyly put that on one side to make himself a
larding pin.
But this deception would probably not have stopped our fiery
young man if the host had not reflected that the reclamation
which his guest made was perfectly just.
"But, after all," said he, lowering the point of his spit, "where is
this letter?"
"Yes, where is this letter?" cried d'Artagnan. "In the first place,
I warn you that that letter is for Monsieur de Treville, and it must
be found, or if it is not found, he will know how to find it."
His threat completed the intimidation of the host. After the
king and the cardinal, M. de Treville was the man whose name
was perhaps most frequently repeated by the military, and even
by citizens. There was, to be sure, Father Joseph, but his name
was never pronounced but with a subdued voice, such was the
terror inspired by his Gray Eminence, as the cardinal's familiar
was called.

21
 Throwing down his spit, and ordering his wife to do the same
with her broom handle, and the servants with their sticks, he set
the first example of commencing an earnest search for the lost
letter.
"Does the letter contain anything valuable?" demanded the
host, after a few minutes of useless investigation.
"Zounds! I think it does indeed!" cried the Gascon, who
reckoned upon this letter for making his way at court. "It
contained my fortune!"
"Bills upon Spain?" asked the disturbed host.
"Bills upon his Majesty's private treasury," answered
d'Artagnan, who, reckoning upon entering into the king's service
in consequence of this recommendation, believed he could make
this somewhat hazardous reply without telling of a falsehood.
"The devil!" cried the host, at his wit's end.
"But it's of no importance," continued d'Artagnan, with natural
assurance; "it's of no importance. The money is nothing; that
letter was everything. I would rather have lost a thousand pistoles
than have lost it." He would not have risked more if he had said
twenty thousand; but a certain juvenile modesty restrained him.
A ray of light all at once broke upon the mind of the host as he
was giving himself to the devil upon finding nothing.
"That letter is not lost!" cried he.
"What!" cried d'Artagnan.
"No, it has been stolen from you."
"Stolen? By whom?"
"By the gentleman who was here yesterday. He came down
into the kitchen, where your doublet was. He remained there
some time alone. I would lay a wager he has stolen it."
"Do you think so?" answered d'Artagnan, but little convinced,
as he knew better than anyone else how entirely personal the

22
value of this letter was, and saw nothing in it likely to tempt
cupidity. The fact was that none of his servants, none of the
travelers present, could have gained anything by being possessed
of this paper.
"Do you say," resumed d'Artagnan, "that you suspect that
impertinent gentleman?"
"I tell you I am sure of it," continued the host. "When I
informed him that your lordship was the protege of Monsieur de
Treville, and that you even had a letter for that illustrious
gentleman, he appeared to be very much disturbed, and asked me
where that letter was, and immediately came down into the
kitchen, where he knew your doublet was."
"Then that's my thief," replied d'Artagnan. "I will complain to
Monsieur de Treville, and Monsieur de Treville will complain to
the king." He then drew two crowns majestically from his purse
and gave them to the host, who accompanied him, cap in hand, to
the gate, and remounted his yellow horse, which bore him without
any further accident to the gate of St. Antoine at Paris, where his
owner sold him for three crowns, which was a very good price,
considering that d'Artagnan had ridden him hard during the last
stage. Thus the dealer to whom d'Artagnan sold him for the nine
livres did not conceal from the young man that he only gave that
enormous sum for him on the account of the originality of his
color.
Thus d'Artagnan entered Paris on foot, carrying his little
packet under his arm, and walked about till he found an
apartment to be let on terms suited to the scantiness of his means.
This chamber was a sort of garret, situated in the Rue des
Fossoyeurs, near the Luxembourg.
As soon as the earnest money was paid, d'Artagnan took
possession of his lodging, and passed the remainder of the day in

23
sewing onto his doublet and hose some ornamental braiding
which his mother had taken off an almost-new doublet of the
elder M. d'Artagnan, and which she had given her son secretly.
Next he went to the Quai de Feraille to have a new blade put to his
sword, and then returned toward the Louvre, inquiring of the first
Musketeer he met for the situation of the hotel of M. de Treville,
which proved to be in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier; that is to say,
in the immediate vicinity of the chamber hired by d'Artagnan--a
circumstance which appeared to furnish a happy augury for the
success of his journey.
After this, satisfied with the way in which he had conducted
himself at Meung, without remorse for the past, confident in the
present, and full of hope for the future, he retired to bed and slept
the sleep of the brave.
This sleep, provincial as it was, brought him to nine o'clock in
the morning; at which hour he rose, in order to repair to the
residence of M. de Treville, the third personage in the kingdom, in
the paternal estimation.

24
 2 THE ANTECHAMBER OF M. DE
TREVILLE

M DE TROISVILLE, AS his family was still called in Gascony, or M.

de Treville, as he has ended by styling himself in Paris, had really
commenced life as d'Artagnan now did; that is to say, without a
sou in his pocket, but with a fund of audacity, shrewdness, and
intelligence which makes the poorest Gascon gentleman often
derive more in his hope from the paternal inheritance than the
richest Perigordian or Berrichan gentleman derives in reality from
his. His insolent bravery, his still more insolent success at a time
when blows poured down like hail, had borne him to the top of
that difficult ladder called Court Favor, which he had climbed four
steps at a time.
He was the friend of the king, who honored highly, as everyone
knows, the memory of his father, Henry IV. The father of M. de
Treville had served him so faithfully in his wars against the league
that in default of money--a thing to which the Bearnais was
accustomed all his life, and who constantly paid his debts with
that of which he never stood in need of borrowing, that is to say,
with ready wit--in default of money, we repeat, he authorized him,
after the reduction of Paris, to assume for his arms a golden lion
passant upon gules, with the motto FIDELIS ET FORTIS. This
was a great matter in the way of honor, but very little in the way of
wealth; so that when the illustrious companion of the great Henry
died, the only inheritance he was able to leave his son was his
sword and his motto. Thanks to this double gift and the spotless
name that accompanied it, M. de Treville was admitted into the

25
household of the young prince where he made such good use of
his sword, and was so faithful to his motto, that Louis XIII, one of
the good blades of his kingdom, was accustomed to say that if he
had a friend who was about to fight, he would advise him to
choose as a second, himself first, and Treville next--or even,
perhaps, before himself.
Thus Louis XIII had a real liking for Treville--a royal liking, a
self-interested liking, it is true, but still a liking. At that unhappy
period it was an important consideration to be surrounded by
such men as Treville. Many might take for their device the epithet
STRONG, which formed the second part of his motto, but very few
gentlemen could lay claim to the FAITHFUL, which constituted
the first. Treville was one of these latter. His was one of those rare
organizations, endowed with an obedient intelligence like that of
the dog; with a blind valor, a quick eye, and a prompt hand; to
whom sight appeared only to be given to see if the king were
dissatisfied with anyone, and the hand to strike this displeasing
personage, whether a Besme, a Maurevers, a Poltiot de Mere, or a
Vitry. In short, up to this period nothing had been wanting to
Treville but opportunity; but he was ever on the watch for it, and
he faithfully promised himself that he would not fail to seize it by
its three hairs whenever it came within reach of his hand. At last
Louis XIII made Treville the captain of his Musketeers, who were
to Louis XIII in devotedness, or rather in fanaticism, what his
Ordinaries had been to Henry III, and his Scotch Guard to Louis
XI.
On his part, the cardinal was not behind the king in this
respect. When he saw the formidable and chosen body with which
Louis XIII had surrounded himself, this second, or rather this first
king of France, became desirous that he, too, should have his
guard. He had his Musketeers therefore, as Louis XIII had his,

26
and these two powerful rivals vied with each other in procuring,
not only from all the provinces of France, but even from all
foreign states, the most celebrated swordsmen. It was not
uncommon for Richelieu and Louis XIII to dispute over their
evening game of chess upon the merits of their servants. Each
boasted the bearing and the courage of his own people. While
exclaiming loudly against duels and brawls, they excited them
secretly to quarrel, deriving an immoderate satisfaction or
genuine regret from the success or defeat of their own
combatants. We learn this from the memoirs of a man who was
concerned in some few of these defeats and in many of these
victories.
Treville had grasped the weak side of his master; and it was to
this address that he owed the long and constant favor of a king
who has not left the reputation behind him of being very faithful
in his friendships. He paraded his Musketeers before the Cardinal
Armand Duplessis with an insolent air which made the gray
moustache of his Eminence curl with ire. Treville understood
admirably the war method of that period, in which he who could
not live at the expense of the enemy must live at the expense of his
compatriots. His soldiers formed a legion of devil-may-care
fellows, perfectly undisciplined toward all but himself.
Loose, half-drunk, imposing, the king's Musketeers, or rather
M. de Treville's, spread themselves about in the cabarets, in the
public walks, and the public sports, shouting, twisting their
mustaches, clanking their swords, and taking great pleasure in
annoying the Guards of the cardinal whenever they could fall in
with them; then drawing in the open streets, as if it were the best
of all possible sports; sometimes killed, but sure in that case to be
both wept and avenged; often killing others, but then certain of
not rotting in prison, M. de Treville being there to claim them.

27
Thus M. de Treville was praised to the highest note by these men,
who adored him, and who, ruffians as they were, trembled before
him like scholars before their master, obedient to his least word,
and ready to sacrifice themselves to wash out the smallest insult.
M de Treville employed this powerful weapon for the king, in
the first place, and the friends of the king--and then for himself
and his own friends. For the rest, in the memoirs of this period,
which has left so many memoirs, one does not find this worthy
gentleman blamed even by his enemies; and he had many such
among men of the pen as well as among men of the sword. In no
instance, let us say, was this worthy gentleman accused of
deriving personal advantage from the cooperation of his minions.
Endowed with a rare genius for intrigue which rendered him the
equal of the ablest intriguers, he remained an honest man. Still
further, in spite of sword thrusts which weaken, and painful
exercises which fatigue, he had become one of the most gallant
frequenters of revels, one of the most insinuating lady's men, one
of the softest whisperers of interesting nothings of his day; the
BONNES FORTUNES of de Treville were talked of as those of M.
de Bassompierre had been talked of twenty years before, and that
was not saying a little. The captain of the Musketeers was
therefore admired, feared, and loved; and this constitutes the
zenith of human fortune.
Louis XIV absorbed all the smaller stars of his court in his own
vast radiance; but his father, a sun PLURIBUS IMPAR, left his
personal splendor to each of his favorites, his individual value to
each of his courtiers. In addition to the leeves of the king and the
cardinal, there might be reckoned in Paris at that time more than
two hundred smaller but still noteworthy leeves. Among these two
hundred leeves, that of Treville was one of the most sought.

28
 The court of his hotel, situated in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier,
resembled a camp from by six o'clock in the morning in summer
and eight o'clock in winter. From fifty to sixty Musketeers, who
appeared to replace one another in order always to present an
imposing number, paraded constantly, armed to the teeth and
ready for anything. On one of those immense staircases, upon
whose space modern civilization would build a whole house,
ascended and descended the office seekers of Paris, who ran after
any sort of favor--gentlemen from the provinces anxious to be
enrolled, and servants in all sorts of liveries, bringing and carrying
messages between their masters and M. de Treville. In the
antechamber, upon long circular benches, reposed the elect; that
is to say, those who were called. In this apartment a continued
buzzing prevailed from morning till night, while M. de Treville, in
his office contiguous to this antechamber, received visits, listened
to complaints, gave his orders, and like the king in his balcony at
the Louvre, had only to place himself at the window to review
both his men and arms.
The day on which d'Artagnan presented himself the
assemblage was imposing, particularly for a provincial just
arriving from his province. It is true that this provincial was a
Gascon; and that, particularly at this period, the compatriots of
d'Artagnan had the reputation of not being easily intimidated.
When he had once passed the massive door covered with long
square-headed nails, he fell into the midst of a troop of
swordsmen, who crossed one another in their passage, calling out,
quarreling, and playing tricks one with another. In order to make
one's way amid these turbulent and conflicting waves, it was
necessary to be an officer, a great noble, or a pretty woman.
It was, then, into the midst of this tumult and disorder that
our young man advanced with a beating heart, ranging his long

29
rapier up his lanky leg, and keeping one hand on the edge of his
cap, with that half-smile of the embarrassed provincial who
wishes to put on a good face. When he had passed one group he
began to breathe more freely; but he could not help observing that
they turned round to look at him, and for the first time in his life
d'Artagnan, who had till that day entertained a very good opinion
of himself, felt ridiculous.
Arrived at the staircase, it was still worse. There were four
Musketeers on the bottom steps, amusing themselves with the
following exercise, while ten or twelve of their comrades waited
upon the landing place to take their turn in the sport.
One of them, stationed upon the top stair, naked sword in
hand, prevented, or at least endeavored to prevent, the three
others from ascending.
These three others fenced against him with their agile swords.
D'Artagnan at first took these weapons for foils, and believed
them to be buttoned; but he soon perceived by certain scratches
that every weapon was pointed and sharpened, and that at each of
these scratches not only the spectators, but even the actors
themselves, laughed like so many madmen.
He who at the moment occupied the upper step kept his
adversaries marvelously in check. A circle was formed around
them. The conditions required that at every hit the man touched
should quit the game, yielding his turn for the benefit of the
adversary who had hit him. In five minutes three were slightly
wounded, one on the hand, another on the ear, by the defender of
the stair, who himself remained intact--a piece of skill which was
worth to him, according to the rules agreed upon, three turns of
favor.
However difficult it might be, or rather as he pretended it was,
to astonish our young traveler, this pastime really astonished him.

30
He had seen in his province--that land in which heads become so
easily heated--a few of the preliminaries of duels; but the daring
of these four fencers appeared to him the strongest he had ever
heard of even in Gascony. He believed himself transported into
that famous country of giants into which Gulliver afterward went
and was so frightened; and yet he had not gained the goal, for
there were still the landing place and the antechamber.
On the landing they were no longer fighting, but amused
themselves with stories about women, and in the antechamber,
with stories about the court. On the landing d'Artagnan blushed;
in the antechamber he trembled. His warm and fickle
imagination, which in Gascony had rendered him formidable to
young chambermaids, and even sometimes their mistresses, had
never dreamed, even in moments of delirium, of half the amorous
wonders or a quarter of the feats of gallantry which were here set
forth in connection with names the best known and with details
the least concealed. But if his morals were shocked on the landing,
his respect for the cardinal was scandalized in the antechamber.
There, to his great astonishment, d'Artagnan heard the policy
which made all Europe tremble criticized aloud and openly, as
well as the private life of the cardinal, which so many great nobles
had been punished for trying to pry into. That great man who was
so revered by d'Artagnan the elder served as an object of ridicule
to the Musketeers of Treville, who cracked their jokes upon his
bandy legs and his crooked back. Some sang ballads about Mme.
d'Aguillon, his mistress, and Mme. Cambalet, his niece; while
others formed parties and plans to annoy the pages and guards of
the cardinal duke--all things which appeared to d'Artagnan
monstrous impossibilities.
Nevertheless, when the name of the king was now and then
uttered unthinkingly amid all these cardinal jests, a sort of gag

31
seemed to close for a moment on all these jeering mouths. They
looked hesitatingly around them, and appeared to doubt the
thickness of the partition between them and the office of M. de
Treville; but a fresh allusion soon brought back the conversation
to his Eminence, and then the laughter recovered its loudness and
the light was not withheld from any of his actions.
"Certes, these fellows will all either be imprisoned or hanged,"
thought the terrified d'Artagnan, "and I, no doubt, with them; for
from the moment I have either listened to or heard them, I shall
be held as an accomplice. What would my good father say, who so
strongly pointed out to me the respect due to the cardinal, if he
knew I was in the society of such pagans?"
We have no need, therefore, to say that d'Artagnan dared not
join in the conversation, only he looked with all his eyes and
listened with all his ears, stretching his five senses so as to lose
nothing; and despite his confidence on the paternal admonitions,
he felt himself carried by his tastes and led by his instincts to
praise rather than to blame the unheard-of things which were
taking place.
Although he was a perfect stranger in the court of M. de
Treville's courtiers, and this his first appearance in that place, he
was at length noticed, and somebody came and asked him what he
wanted. At this demand d'Artagnan gave his name very modestly,
emphasized the title of compatriot, and begged the servant who
had put the question to him to request a moment's audience of M.
de Treville--a request which the other, with an air of protection,
promised to transmit in due season.
D'Artagnan, a little recovered from his first surprise, had now
leisure to study costumes and physiognomy.
The center of the most animated group was a Musketeer of
great height and haughty countenance, dressed in a costume so

32
peculiar as to attract general attention. He did not wear the
uniform cloak--which was not obligatory at that epoch of less
liberty but more independence--but a cerulean-blue doublet, a
little faded and worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked
in gold, which shone like water ripples in the sun. A long cloak of
crimson velvet fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, disclosing
in front the splendid baldric, from which was suspended a
gigantic rapier. This Musketeer had just come off guard,
complained of having a cold, and coughed from time to time
affectedly. It was for this reason, as he said to those around him,
that he had put on his cloak; and while he spoke with a lofty air
and twisted his mustache disdainfully, all admired his
embroidered baldric, and d'Artagnan more than anyone.
"What would you have?" said the Musketeer. "This fashion is
coming in. It is a folly, I admit, but still it is the fashion. Besides,
one must lay out one's inheritance somehow."
"Ah, Porthos!" cried one of his companions, "don't try to make
us believe you obtained that baldric by paternal generosity. It was
given to you by that veiled lady I met you with the other Sunday,
near the gate St. Honor."
"No, upon honor and by the faith of a gentleman, I bought it
with the contents of my own purse," answered he whom they
designated by the name Porthos.
"Yes; about in the same manner," said another Musketeer,
"that I bought this new purse with what my mistress put into the
old one."
"It's true, though," said Porthos; "and the proof is that I paid
twelve pistoles for it."
The wonder was increased, though the doubt continued to
exist.

33
 "Is it not true, Aramis?" said Porthos, turning toward another
Musketeer.
This other Musketeer formed a perfect contrast to his
interrogator, who had just designated him by the name of Aramis.
He was a stout man, of about two- or three-and-twenty, with an
open, ingenuous countenance, a black, mild eye, and cheeks rosy
and downy as an autumn peach. His delicate mustache marked a
perfectly straight line upon his upper lip; he appeared to dread to
lower his hands lest their veins should swell, and he pinched the
tips of his ears from time to time to preserve their delicate pink
transparency. Habitually he spoke little and slowly, bowed
frequently, laughed without noise, showing his teeth, which were
fine and of which, as the rest of his person, he appeared to take
great care. He answered the appeal of his friend by an affirmative
nod of the head.
This affirmation appeared to dispel all doubts with regard to
the baldric. They continued to admire it, but said no more about
it; and with a rapid change of thought, the conversation passed
suddenly to another subject.
"What do you think of the story Chalais's esquire relates?"
asked another Musketeer, without addressing anyone in
particular, but on the contrary speaking to everybody.
"And what does he say?" asked Porthos, in a self-sufficient
tone.
"He relates that he met at Brussels Rochefort, the AME
DAMNEE of the cardinal disguised as a Capuchin, and that this
cursed Rochefort, thanks to his disguise, had tricked Monsieur de
Laigues, like a ninny as he is."
"A ninny, indeed!" said Porthos; "but is the matter certain?"
"I had it from Aramis," replied the Musketeer.
"Indeed?"

34
 "Why, you knew it, Porthos," said Aramis. "I told you of it
yesterday. Let us say no more about it."
"Say no more about it? That's YOUR opinion!" replied Porthos.
"Say no more about it! PESTE! You come to your conclusions
quickly. What! The cardinal sets a spy upon a gentleman, has his
letters stolen from him by means of a traitor, a brigand, a rascal--
has, with the help of this spy and thanks to this correspondence,
Chalais's throat cut, under the stupid pretext that he wanted to
kill the king and marry Monsieur to the queen! Nobody knew a
word of this enigma. You unraveled it yesterday to the great
satisfaction of all; and while we are still gaping with wonder at the
news, you come and tell us today, 'Let us say no more about it.'"
"Well, then, let us talk about it, since you desire it," replied
Aramis, patiently.
"This Rochefort," cried Porthos, "if I were the esquire of poor
Chalais, should pass a minute or two very uncomfortably with
me."
"And you--you would pass rather a sad quarter-hour with the
Red Duke," replied Aramis.
"Oh, the Red Duke! Bravo! Bravo! The Red Duke!" cried
Porthos, clapping his hands and nodding his head. "The Red Duke
is capital. I'll circulate that saying, be assured, my dear fellow.
Who says this Aramis is not a wit? What a misfortune it is you did
not follow your first vocation; what a delicious abbe you would
have made!"
"Oh, it's only a temporary postponement," replied Aramis; "I
shall be one someday. You very well know, Porthos, that I
continue to study theology for that purpose."
"He will be one, as he says," cried Porthos; "he will be one,
sooner or later."
"Sooner," said Aramis.

35
 "He only waits for one thing to determine him to resume his
cassock, which hangs behind his uniform," said another
Musketeer.
"What is he waiting for?" asked another.
"Only till the queen has given an heir to the crown of France."
"No jesting upon that subject, gentlemen," said Porthos;
"thank God the queen is still of an age to give one!"
"They say that Monsieur de Buckingham is in France," replied
Aramis, with a significant smile which gave to this sentence,
apparently so simple, a tolerably scandalous meaning.
"Aramis, my good friend, this time you are wrong," interrupted
Porthos. "Your wit is always leading you beyond bounds; if
Monsieur de Treville heard you, you would repent of speaking
thus."
"Are you going to give me a lesson, Porthos?" cried Aramis,
from whose usually mild eye a flash passed like lightning.
"My dear fellow, be a Musketeer or an abbe. Be one or the
other, but not both," replied Porthos. "You know what Athos told
you the other day; you eat at everybody's mess. Ah, don't be angry,
I beg of you, that would be useless; you know what is agreed upon
between you, Athos and me. You go to Madame d'Aguillon's, and
you pay your court to her; you go to Madame de Bois-Tracy's, the
cousin of Madame de Chevreuse, and you pass for being far
advanced in the good graces of that lady. Oh, good Lord! Don't
trouble yourself to reveal your good luck; no one asks for your
secret-all the world knows your discretion. But since you possess
that virtue, why the devil don't you make use of it with respect to
her Majesty? Let whoever likes talk of the king and the cardinal,
and how he likes; but the queen is sacred, and if anyone speaks of
her, let it be respectfully."

36
 "Porthos, you are as vain as Narcissus; I plainly tell you so,"
replied Aramis. "You know I hate moralizing, except when it is
done by Athos. As to you, good sir, you wear too magnificent a
baldric to be strong on that head. I will be an abbe if it suits me. In
the meanwhile I am a Musketeer; in that quality I say what I
please, and at this moment it pleases me to say that you weary
me."
"Aramis!"
"Porthos!"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried the surrounding group.
"Monsieur de Treville awaits Monsieur d'Artagnan," cried a
servant, throwing open the door of the cabinet.
At this announcement, during which the door remained open,
everyone became mute, and amid the general silence the young
man crossed part of the length of the antechamber, and entered
the apartment of the captain of the Musketeers, congratulating
himself with all his heart at having so narrowly escaped the end of
this strange quarrel.

37
 3 THE AUDIENCE

M DE TREVILLE was at the moment in rather ill-humor,

nevertheless he saluted the young man politely, who bowed to the
very ground; and he smiled on receiving d'Artagnan's response,
the Bearnese accent of which recalled to him at the same time his
youth and his country--a double remembrance which makes a
man smile at all ages; but stepping toward the antechamber and
making a sign to d'Artagnan with his hand, as if to ask his
permission to finish with others before he began with him, he
called three times, with a louder voice at each time, so that he ran
through the intervening tones between the imperative accent and
the angry accent.
"Athos! Porthos! Aramis!"
The two Musketeers with whom we have already made
acquaintance, and who answered to the last of these three names,
immediately quitted the group of which they had formed a part,
and advanced toward the cabinet, the door of which closed after
them as soon as they had entered. Their appearance, although it
was not quite at ease, excited by its carelessness, at once full of
dignity and submission, the admiration of d'Artagnan, who beheld
in these two men demigods, and in their leader an Olympian
Jupiter, armed with all his thunders.
When the two Musketeers had entered; when the door was
closed behind them; when the buzzing murmur of the
antechamber, to which the summons which had been made had
doubtless furnished fresh food, had recommenced; when M. de
Treville had three or four times paced in silence, and with a
frowning brow, the whole length of his cabinet, passing each time

38
 before Porthos and Aramis, who were as upright and silent as if
on parade--he stopped all at once full in front of them, and
covering them from head to foot with an angry look, "Do you
know what the king said to me," cried he, "and that no longer ago
than yesterday evening--do you know, gentlemen?"
"No," replied the two Musketeers, after a moment's silence,
"no, sir, we do not."
"But I hope that you will do us the honor to tell us," added
Aramis, in his politest tone and with his most graceful bow.
"He told me that he should henceforth recruit his Musketeers
from among the Guards of Monsieur the Cardinal."
"The Guards of the cardinal! And why so?" asked Porthos,
warmly.
"Because he plainly perceives that his piquette* stands in need
of being enlivened by a mixture of good wine."
ered liquor, made from the second pressing of the grape.
The two Musketeers reddened to the whites of their eyes.
D'Artagnan did not know where he was, and wished himself a
hundred feet underground.
"Yes, yes," continued M. de Treville, growing warmer as he
spoke, "and his majesty was right; for, upon my honor, it is true
that the Musketeers make but a miserable figure at court. The
cardinal related yesterday while playing with the king, with an air
of condolence very displeasing to me, that the day before
yesterday those DAMNED MUSKETEERS, those DAREDEVILS--
he dwelt upon those words with an ironical tone still more
displeasing to me--those BRAGGARTS, added he, glancing at me
with his tiger-cat's eye, had made a riot in the Rue Ferou in a
cabaret, and that a party of his Guards (I thought he was going to
laugh in my face) had been forced to arrest the rioters!
MORBLEU! You must know something about it. Arrest

39
Musketeers! You were among them--you were! Don't deny it; you
were recognized, and the cardinal named you. But it's all my fault;
yes, it's all my fault, because it is myself who selects my men. You,
Aramis, why the devil did you ask me for a uniform when you
would have been so much better in a cassock? And you, Porthos,
do you only wear such a fine golden baldric to suspend a sword of
straw from it? And Athos--I don't see Athos. Where is he?"
"Ill--"
"Very ill, say you? And of what malady?"
"It is feared that it may be the smallpox, sir," replied Porthos,
desirous of taking his turn in the conversation; "and what is
serious is that it will certainly spoil his face."
"The smallpox! That's a great story to tell me, Porthos! Sick of
the smallpox at his age! No, no; but wounded without doubt,
killed, perhaps. Ah, if I knew! S'blood! Messieurs Musketeers, I
will not have this haunting of bad places, this quarreling in the
streets, this swordplay at the crossways; and above all, I will not
have occasion given for the cardinal's Guards, who are brave,
quiet, skillful men who never put themselves in a position to be
arrested, and who, besides, never allow themselves to be arrested,
to laugh at you! I am sure of it--they would prefer dying on the
spot to being arrested or taking back a step. To save yourselves, to
scamper away, to flee--that is good for the king's Musketeers!"
Porthos and Aramis trembled with rage. They could willingly
have strangled M. de Treville, if, at the bottom of all this, they had
not felt it was the great love he bore them which made him speak
thus. They stamped upon the carpet with their feet; they bit their
lips till the blood came, and grasped the hilts of their swords with
all their might. All without had heard, as we have said, Athos,
Porthos, and Aramis called, and had guessed, from M. de
Treville's tone of voice, that he was very angry about something.

40
Ten curious heads were glued to the tapestry and became pale
with fury; for their ears, closely applied to the door, did not lose a
syllable of what he said, while their mouths repeated as he went
on, the insulting expressions of the captain to all the people in the
antechamber. In an instant, from the door of the cabinet to the
street gate, the whole hotel was boiling.
"Ah! The king's Musketeers are arrested by the Guards of the
cardinal, are they?" continued M. de Treville, as furious at heart as
his soldiers, but emphasizing his words and plunging them, one
by one, so to say, like so many blows of a stiletto, into the bosoms
of his auditors. "What! Six of his Eminence's Guards arrest six of
his Majesty's Musketeers! MORBLEU! My part is taken! I will go
straight to the louvre; I will give in my resignation as captain of
the king's Musketeers to take a lieutenancy in the cardinal's
Guards, and if he refuses me, MORBLEU! I will turn abbe."
At these words, the murmur without became an explosion;
nothing was to be heard but oaths and blasphemies. The
MORBLEUS, the SANG DIEUS, the MORTS TOUTS LES
DIABLES, crossed one another in the air. D'Artagnan looked for
some tapestry behind which he might hide himself, and felt an
immense inclination to crawl under the table.
"Well, my Captain," said Porthos, quite beside himself, "the
truth is that we were six against six. But we were not captured by
fair means; and before we had time to draw our swords, two of
our party were dead, and Athos, grievously wounded, was very
little better. For you know Athos. Well, Captain, he endeavored
twice to get up, and fell again twice. And we did not surrender--
no! They dragged us away by force. On the way we escaped. As for
Athos, they believed him to be dead, and left him very quiet on the
field of battle, not thinking it worth the trouble to carry him away.
That's the whole story. What the devil, Captain, one cannot win all

41
one's battles! The great Pompey lost that of Pharsalia; and Francis
the First, who was, as I have heard say, as good as other folks,
nevertheless lost the Battle of Pavia."
"And I have the honor of assuring you that I killed one of them
with his own sword," said Aramis; "for mine was broken at the
first parry. Killed him, or poniarded him, sir, as is most agreeable
to you."
"I did not know that," replied M. de Treville, in a somewhat
softened tone. "The cardinal exaggerated, as I perceive."
"But pray, sir," continued Aramis, who, seeing his captain
become appeased, ventured to risk a prayer, "do not say that
Athos is wounded. He would be in despair if that should come to
the ears of the king; and as the wound is very serious, seeing that
after crossing the shoulder it penetrates into the chest, it is to be
feared--"
At this instant the tapestry was raised and a noble and
handsome head, but frightfully pale, appeared under the fringe.
"Athos!" cried the two Musketeers.
"Athos!" repeated M. de Treville himself.
"You have sent for me, sir," said Athos to M. de Treville, in a
feeble yet perfectly calm voice, "you have sent for me, as my
comrades inform me, and I have hastened to receive your orders. I
am here; what do you want with me?"
And at these words, the Musketeer, in irreproachable costume,
belted as usual, with a tolerably firm step, entered the cabinet. M.
de Treville, moved to the bottom of his heart by this proof of
courage, sprang toward him.
"I was about to say to these gentlemen," added he, "that I
forbid my Musketeers to expose their lives needlessly; for brave
men are very dear to the king, and the king knows that his
Musketeers are the bravest on the earth. Your hand, Athos!"

42
 And without waiting for the answer of the newcomer to this
proof of affection, M. de Treville seized his right hand and pressed
it with all his might, without perceiving that Athos, whatever
might be his self-command, allowed a slight murmur of pain to
escape him, and if possible, grew paler than he was before.
The door had remained open, so strong was the excitement
produced by the arrival of Athos, whose wound, though kept as a
secret, was known to all. A burst of satisfaction hailed the last
words of the captain; and two or three heads, carried away by the
enthusiasm of the moment, appeared through the openings of the
tapestry. M. de Treville was about to reprehend this breach of the
rules of etiquette, when he felt the hand of Athos, who had rallied
all his energies to contend against pain, at length overcome by it,
fell upon the floor as if he were dead.
"A surgeon!" cried M. de Treville, "mine! The king's! The best!
A surgeon! Or, s'blood, my brave Athos will die!"
At the cries of M. de Treville, the whole assemblage rushed
into the cabinet, he not thinking to shut the door against anyone,
and all crowded round the wounded man. But all this eager
attention might have been useless if the doctor so loudly called for
had not chanced to be in the hotel. He pushed through the crowd,
approached Athos, still insensible, and as all this noise and
commotion inconvenienced him greatly, he required, as the first
and most urgent thing, that the Musketeer should be carried into
an adjoining chamber. Immediately M. de Treville opened and
pointed the way to Porthos and Aramis, who bore their comrade
in their arms. Behind this group walked the surgeon; and behind
the surgeon the door closed.
The cabinet of M. de Treville, generally held so sacred, became
in an instant the annex of the antechamber. Everyone spoke,

43
harangued, and vociferated, swearing, cursing, and consigning the
cardinal and his Guards to all the devils.
An instant after, Porthos and Aramis re-entered, the surgeon
and M. de Treville alone remaining with the wounded.
At length, M. de Treville himself returned. The injured man
had recovered his senses. The surgeon declared that the situation
of the Musketeer had nothing in it to render his friends uneasy,
his weakness having been purely and simply caused by loss of
blood.
Then M. de Treville made a sign with his hand, and all retired
except d'Artagnan, who did not forget that he had an audience,
and with the tenacity of a Gascon remained in his place.
When all had gone out and the door was closed, M. de Treville,
on turning round, found himself alone with the young man. The
event which had occurred had in some degree broken the thread
of his ideas. He inquired what was the will of his persevering
visitor. D'Artagnan then repeated his name, and in an instant
recovering all his remembrances of the present and the past, M.
de Treville grasped the situation.
"Pardon me," said he, smiling, "pardon me my dear
compatriot, but I had wholly forgotten you. But what help is there
for it! A captain is nothing but a father of a family, charged with
even a greater responsibility than the father of an ordinary family.
Soldiers are big children; but as I maintain that the orders of the
king, and more particularly the orders of the cardinal, should be
executed--"
D'Artagnan could not restrain a smile. By this smile M. de
Treville judged that he had not to deal with a fool, and changing
the conversation, came straight to the point.
"I respected your father very much," said he. "What can I do
for the son? Tell me quickly; my time is not my own."

44
 "Monsieur," said d'Artagnan, "on quitting Tarbes and coming
hither, it was my intention to request of you, in remembrance of
the friendship which you have not forgotten, the uniform of a
Musketeer; but after all that I have seen during the last two hours,
I comprehend that such a favor is enormous, and tremble lest I
should not merit it."
"It is indeed a favor, young man," replied M. de Treville, "but it
may not be so far beyond your hopes as you believe, or rather as
you appear to believe. But his majesty's decision is always
necessary; and I inform you with regret that no one becomes a
Musketeer without the preliminary ordeal of several campaigns,
certain brilliant actions, or a service of two years in some other
regiment less favored than ours."
D'Artagnan bowed without replying, feeling his desire to don
the Musketeer's uniform vastly increased by the great difficulties
which preceded the attainment of it.
"But," continued M. de Treville, fixing upon his compatriot a
look so piercing that it might be said he wished to read the
thoughts of his heart, "on account of my old companion, your
father, as I have said, I will do something for you, young man. Our
recruits from Bearn are not generally very rich, and I have no
reason to think matters have much changed in this respect since I
left the province. I dare say you have not brought too large a stock
of money with you?"
D'Artagnan drew himself up with a proud air which plainly
said, "I ask alms of no man."
"Oh, that's very well, young man," continued M. de Treville,
"that's all very well. I know these airs; I myself came to Paris with
four crowns in my purse, and would have fought with anyone who
dared to tell me I was not in a condition to purchase the Louvre."

45
 D'Artagnan's bearing became still more imposing. Thanks to
the sale of his horse, he commenced his career with four more
crowns than M. de Treville possessed at the commencement of
his.
"You ought, I say, then, to husband the means you have,
however large the sum may be; but you ought also to endeavor to
perfect yourself in the exercises becoming a gentleman. I will
write a letter today to the Director of the Royal Academy, and
tomorrow he will admit you without any expense to yourself. Do
not refuse this little service. Our best-born and richest gentlemen
sometimes solicit it without being able to obtain it. You will learn
horsemanship, swordsmanship in all its branches, and dancing.
You will make some desirable acquaintances; and from time to
time you can call upon me, just to tell me how you are getting on,
and to say whether I can be of further service to you."
D'Artagnan, stranger as he was to all the manners of a court,
could not but perceive a little coldness in this reception.
"Alas, sir," said he, "I cannot but perceive how sadly I miss the
letter of introduction which my father gave me to present to you."
"I certainly am surprised," replied M. de Treville, "that you
should undertake so long a journey without that necessary
passport, the sole resource of us poor Bearnese."
"I had one, sir, and, thank God, such as I could wish," cried
d'Artagnan; "but it was perfidiously stolen from me."
He then related the adventure of Meung, described the
unknown gentleman with the greatest minuteness, and all with a
warmth and truthfulness that delighted M. de Treville.
"This is all very strange," said M. de Treville, after meditating a
minute; "you mentioned my name, then, aloud?"
"Yes, sir, I certainly committed that imprudence; but why
should I have done otherwise? A name like yours must be as a

46
buckler to me on my way. Judge if I should not put myself under
its protection."
Flattery was at that period very current, and M. de Treville
loved incense as well as a king, or even a cardinal. He could not
refrain from a smile of visible satisfaction; but this smile soon
disappeared, and returning to the adventure of Meung, "Tell me,"
continued he, "had not this gentlemen a slight scar on his cheek?"
"Yes, such a one as would be made by the grazing of a ball."
"Was he not a fine-looking man?"
"Yes."
"Of lofty stature."
"Yes."
"Of pale complexion and brown hair?"
"Yes, yes, that is he; how is it, sir, that you are acquainted with
this man? If I ever find him again--and I will find him, I swear,
were it in hell!"
"He was waiting for a woman," continued Treville.
"He departed immediately after having conversed for a minute
with her whom he awaited."
"You know not the subject of their conversation?"
"He gave her a box, told her not to open it except in London."
"Was this woman English?"
"He called her Milady."
"It is he; it must be he!" murmured Treville. "I believed him
still at Brussels."
"Oh, sir, if you know who this man is," cried d'Artagnan, "tell
me who he is, and whence he is. I will then release you from all
your promises--even that of procuring my admission into the
Musketeers; for before everything, I wish to avenge myself."

47
 "Beware, young man!" cried Treville. "If you see him coming
on one side of the street, pass by on the other. Do not cast yourself
against such a rock; he would break you like glass."
"That will not prevent me," replied d'Artagnan, "if ever I find
him."
"In the meantime," said Treville, "seek him not--if I have a
right to advise you."
All at once the captain stopped, as if struck by a sudden
suspicion. This great hatred which the young traveler manifested
so loudly for this man, who--a rather improbable thing--had
stolen his father's letter from him--was there not some perfidy
concealed under this hatred? Might not this young man be sent by
his Eminence? Might he not have come for the purpose of laying a
snare for him? This pretended d'Artagnan--was he not an
emissary of the cardinal, whom the cardinal sought to introduce
into Treville's house, to place near him, to win his confidence, and
afterward to ruin him as had been done in a thousand other
instances? He fixed his eyes upon d'Artagnan even more earnestly
than before. He was moderately reassured, however, by the aspect
of that countenance, full of astute intelligence and affected
humility. "I know he is a Gascon," reflected he, "but he may be one
for the cardinal as well as for me. Let us try him."
"My friend," said he, slowly, "I wish, as the son of an ancient
friend--for I consider this story of the lost letter perfectly true--I
wish, I say, in order to repair the coldness you may have remarked
in my reception of you, to discover to you the secrets of our policy.
The king and the cardinal are the best of friends; their apparent
bickerings are only feints to deceive fools. I am not willing that a
compatriot, a handsome cavalier, a brave youth, quite fit to make
his way, should become the dupe of all these artifices and fall into
the snare after the example of so many others who have been

48
ruined by it. Be assured that I am devoted to both these all-
powerful masters, and that my earnest endeavors have no other
aim than the service of the king, and also the cardinal--one of the
most illustrious geniuses that France has ever produced.
"Now, young man, regulate your conduct accordingly; and if
you entertain, whether from your family, your relations, or even
from your instincts, any of these enmities which we see constantly
breaking out against the cardinal, bid me adieu and let us
separate. I will aid you in many ways, but without attaching you to
my person. I hope that my frankness at least will make you my
friend; for you are the only young man to whom I have hitherto
spoken as I have done to you."
Treville said to himself: "If the cardinal has set this young fox
upon me, he will certainly not have failed--he, who knows how
bitterly I execrate him--to tell his spy that the best means of
making his court to me is to rail at him. Therefore, in spite of all
my protestations, if it be as I suspect, my cunning gossip will
assure me that he holds his Eminence in horror."
It, however, proved otherwise. D'Artagnan answered, with the
greatest simplicity: "I came to Paris with exactly such intentions.
My father advised me to stoop to nobody but the king, the
cardinal, and yourself--whom he considered the first three
personages in France."
D'Artagnan added M. de Treville to the others, as may be
perceived; but he thought this addition would do no harm.
"I have the greatest veneration for the cardinal," continued he,
"and the most profound respect for his actions. So much the
better for me, sir, if you speak to me, as you say, with frankness--
for then you will do me the honor to esteem the resemblance of
our opinions; but if you have entertained any doubt, as naturally
you may, I feel that I am ruining myself by speaking the truth. But

49
I still trust you will not esteem me the less for it, and that is my
object beyond all others."
M de Treville was surprised to the greatest degree. So much
penetration, so much frankness, created admiration, but did not
entirely remove his suspicions. The more this young man was
superior to others, the more he was to be dreaded if he meant to
deceive him. Nevertheless, he pressed d'Artagnan's hand, and said
to him: "You are an honest youth; but at the present moment I
can only do for you that which I just now offered. My hotel will be
always open to you. Hereafter, being able to ask for me at all
hours, and consequently to take advantage of all opportunities,
you will probably obtain that which you desire."
"That is to say," replied d'Artagnan, "that you will wait until I
have proved myself worthy of it. Well, be assured," added he, with
the familiarity of a Gascon, "you shall not wait long." And he
bowed in order to retire, and as if he considered the future in his
own hands.
"But wait a minute," said M. de Treville, stopping him. "I
promised you a letter for the director of the Academy. Are you too
proud to accept it, young gentleman?"
"No, sir," said d'Artagnan; "and I will guard it so carefully that
I will be sworn it shall arrive at its address, and woe be to him
who shall attempt to take it from me!"
M de Treville smiled at this flourish; and leaving his young
man compatriot in the embrasure of the window, where they had
talked together, he seated himself at a table in order to write the
promised letter of recommendation. While he was doing this,
d'Artagnan, having no better employment, amused himself with
beating a march upon the window and with looking at the
Musketeers, who went away, one after another, following them
with his eyes until they disappeared.

50
 M de Treville, after having written the letter, sealed it, and
rising, approached the young man in order to give it to him. But at
the very moment when d'Artagnan stretched out his hand to
receive it, M. de Treville was highly astonished to see his protege
make a sudden spring, become crimson with passion, and rush
from the cabinet crying, "S'blood, he shall not escape me this
time!"
"And who?" asked M. de Treville.
"He, my thief!" replied d'Artagnan. "Ah, the traitor!" and he
disappeared.
"The devil take the madman!" murmured M. de Treville,
"unless," added he, "this is a cunning mode of escaping, seeing
that he had failed in his purpose!"

51
 4 THE SHOULDER OF ATHOS, THE
BALDRIC OF PORTHOS AND THE
HANDKERCHIEF OF ARAMIS

D'A RTAGNAN, in a state of fury, crossed the antechamber at

three bounds, and was darting toward the stairs, which he
reckoned upon descending four at a time, when, in his heedless
course, he ran head foremost against a Musketeer who was
coming out of one of M. de Treville's private rooms, and striking
his shoulder violently, made him utter a cry, or rather a howl.
"Excuse me," said d'Artagnan, endeavoring to resume his
course, "excuse me, but I am in a hurry."
Scarcely had he descended the first stair, when a hand of iron
seized him by the belt and stopped him.
"You are in a hurry?" said the Musketeer, as pale as a sheet.
"Under that pretense you run against me! You say, 'Excuse me,'
and you believe that is sufficient? Not at all, my young man. Do
you fancy because you have heard Monsieur de Treville speak to
us a little cavalierly today that other people are to treat us as he
speaks to us? Undeceive yourself, comrade, you are not Monsieur
de Treville."
"My faith!" replied d'Artagnan, recognizing Athos, who, after
the dressing performed by the doctor, was returning to his own
apartment. "I did not do it intentionally, and not doing it
intentionally, I said 'Excuse me.' It appears to me that this is quite
enough. I repeat to you, however, and this time on my word of
honor--I think perhaps too often--that I am in haste, great haste.

52
Leave your hold, then, I beg of you, and let me go where my
business calls me."
"Monsieur," said Athos, letting him go, "you are not polite; it is
easy to perceive that you come from a distance."
D'Artagnan had already strode down three or four stairs, but
at Athos's last remark he stopped short.
"MORBLEU, monsieur!" said he, "however far I may come, it
is not you who can give me a lesson in good manners, I warn you."
"Perhaps," said Athos.
"Ah! If I were not in such haste, and if I were not running after
someone," said d'Artagnan.
"Monsieur Man-in-a-hurry, you can find me without running--
ME, you understand?"
"And where, I pray you?"
"Near the Carmes-Deschaux."
"At what hour?"
"About noon."
"About noon? That will do; I will be there."
"Endeavor not to make me wait; for at quarter past twelve I
will cut off your ears as you run."
"Good!" cried d'Artagnan, "I will be there ten minutes before
twelve." And he set off running as if the devil possessed him,
hoping that he might yet find the stranger, whose slow pace could
not have carried him far.
But at the street gate, Porthos was talking with the soldier on
guard. Between the two talkers there was just enough room for a
man to pass. D'Artagnan thought it would suffice for him, and he
sprang forward like a dart between them. But d'Artagnan had
reckoned without the wind. As he was about to pass, the wind
blew out Porthos's long cloak, and d'Artagnan rushed straight into
the middle of it. Without doubt, Porthos had reasons for not

53
abandoning this part of his vestments, for instead of quitting his
hold on the flap in his hand, he pulled it toward him, so that
d'Artagnan rolled himself up in the velvet by a movement of
rotation explained by the persistency of Porthos.
D'Artagnan, hearing the Musketeer swear, wished to escape
from the cloak, which blinded him, and sought to find his way
from under the folds of it. He was particularly anxious to avoid
marring the freshness of the magnificent baldric we are
acquainted with; but on timidly opening his eyes, he found
himself with his nose fixed between the two shoulders of Porthos-
-that is to say, exactly upon the baldric.
Alas, like most things in this world which have nothing in their
favor but appearances, the baldric was glittering with gold in the
front, but was nothing but simple buff behind. Vainglorious as he
was, Porthos could not afford to have a baldric wholly of gold, but
had at least half. One could comprehend the necessity of the cold
and the urgency of the cloak.
"Bless me!" cried Porthos, making strong efforts to
disembarrass himself of d'Artagnan, who was wriggling about his
back; "you must be mad to run against people in this manner."
"Excuse me," said d'Artagnan, reappearing under the shoulder
of the giant, "but I am in such haste--I was running after someone
and--"
"And do you always forget your eyes when you run?" asked
Porthos.
"No," replied d'Artagnan, piqued, "and thanks to my eyes, I
can see what other people cannot see."
Whether Porthos understood him or did not understand him,
giving way to his anger, "Monsieur," said he, "you stand a chance
of getting chastised if you rub Musketeers in this fashion."

54
 "Chastised, Monsieur!" said d'Artagnan, "the expression is
strong."
"It is one that becomes a man accustomed to look his enemies
in the face."
"Ah, PARDIEU! I know full well that you don't turn your back
to yours."
And the young man, delighted with his joke, went away
laughing loudly.
Porthos foamed with rage, and made a movement to rush after
d'Artagnan.
"Presently, presently," cried the latter, "when you haven't your
cloak on."
"At one o'clock, then, behind the Luxembourg."
"Very well, at one o'clock, then," replied d'Artagnan, turning
the angle of the street.
But neither in the street he had passed through, nor in the one
which his eager glance pervaded, could he see anyone; however
slowly the stranger had walked, he was gone on his way, or
perhaps had entered some house. D'Artagnan inquired of
everyone he met with, went down to the ferry, came up again by
the Rue de Seine, and the Red Cross; but nothing, absolutely
nothing! This chase was, however, advantageous to him in one
sense, for in proportion as the perspiration broke from his
forehead, his heart began to cool.
He began to reflect upon the events that had passed; they were
numerous and inauspicious. It was scarcely eleven o'clock in the
morning, and yet this morning had already brought him into
disgrace with M. de Treville, who could not fail to think the
manner in which d'Artagnan had left him a little cavalier.
Besides this, he had drawn upon himself two good duels with
two men, each capable of killing three d'Artagnans--with two

55
Musketeers, in short, with two of those beings whom he esteemed
so greatly that he placed them in his mind and heart above all
other men.
The outlook was sad. Sure of being killed by Athos, it may
easily be understood that the young man was not very uneasy
about Porthos. As hope, however, is the last thing extinguished in
the heart of man, he finished by hoping that he might survive,
even though with terrible wounds, in both these duels; and in case
of surviving, he made the following reprehensions upon his own
conduct:
"What a madcap I was, and what a stupid fellow I am! That
brave and unfortunate Athos was wounded on that very shoulder
against which I must run head foremost, like a ram. The only
thing that astonishes me is that he did not strike me dead at once.
He had good cause to do so; the pain I gave him must have been
atrocious. As to Porthos--oh, as to Porthos, faith, that's a droll
affair!"
And in spite of himself, the young man began to laugh aloud,
looking round carefully, however, to see that his solitary laugh,
without a cause in the eyes of passers-by, offended no one.
"As to Porthos, that is certainly droll; but I am not the less a
giddy fool. Are people to be run against without warning? No! And
have I any right to go and peep under their cloaks to see what is
not there? He would have pardoned me, he would certainly have
pardoned me, if I had not said anything to him about that cursed
baldric--in ambiguous words, it is true, but rather drolly
ambiguous. Ah, cursed Gascon that I am, I get from one hobble
into another. Friend d'Artagnan," continued he, speaking to
himself with all the amenity that he thought due himself, "if you
escape, of which there is not much chance, I would advise you to
practice perfect politeness for the future. You must henceforth be

56
admired and quoted as a model of it. To be obliging and polite
does not necessarily make a man a coward. Look at Aramis, now;
Aramis is mildness and grace personified. Well, did anybody ever
dream of calling Aramis a coward? No, certainly not, and from
this moment I will endeavor to model myself after him. Ah! That's
strange! Here he is!"
D'Artagnan, walking and soliloquizing, had arrived within a
few steps of the hotel d'Arguillon and in front of that hotel
perceived Aramis, chatting gaily with three gentlemen; but as he
had not forgotten that it was in presence of this young man that
M. de Treville had been so angry in the morning, and as a witness
of the rebuke the Musketeers had received was not likely to be at
all agreeable, he pretended not to see him. D'Artagnan, on the
contrary, quite full of his plans of conciliation and courtesy,
approached the young men with a profound bow, accompanied by
a most gracious smile. All four, besides, immediately broke off
their conversation.
D'Artagnan was not so dull as not to perceive that he was one
too many; but he was not sufficiently broken into the fashions of
the gay world to know how to extricate himself gallantly from a
false position, like that of a man who begins to mingle with people
he is scarcely acquainted with and in a conversation that does not
concern him. He was seeking in his mind, then, for the least
awkward means of retreat, when he remarked that Aramis had let
his handkerchief fall, and by mistake, no doubt, had placed his
foot upon it. This appeared to be a favorable opportunity to repair
his intrusion. He stooped, and with the most gracious air he could
assume, drew the handkerchief from under the foot of the
Musketeer in spite of the efforts the latter made to detain it, and
holding it out to him, said, "I believe, monsieur, that this is a
handkerchief you would be sorry to lose?"

57
 The handkerchief was indeed richly embroidered, and had a
coronet and arms at one of its corners. Aramis blushed
excessively, and snatched rather than took the handkerchief from
the hand of the Gascon.
"Ah, ah!" cried one of the Guards, "will you persist in saying,
most discreet Aramis, that you are not on good terms with
Madame de Bois-Tracy, when that gracious lady has the kindness
to lend you one of her handkerchiefs?"
Aramis darted at d'Artagnan one of those looks which inform a
man that he has acquired a mortal enemy. Then, resuming his
mild air, "You are deceived, gentlemen," said he, "this
handkerchief is not mine, and I cannot fancy why Monsieur has
taken it into his head to offer it to me rather than to one of you;
and as a proof of what I say, here is mine in my pocket."
So saying, he pulled out his own handkerchief, likewise a very
elegant handkerchief, and of fine cambric--though cambric was
dear at the period--but a handkerchief without embroidery and
without arms, only ornamented with a single cipher, that of its
proprietor.
This time d'Artagnan was not hasty. He perceived his mistake;
but the friends of Aramis were not at all convinced by his denial,
and one of them addressed the young Musketeer with affected
seriousness. "If it were as you pretend it is," said he, "I should be
forced, my dear Aramis, to reclaim it myself; for, as you very well
know, Bois-Tracy is an intimate friend of mine, and I cannot allow
the property of his wife to be sported as a trophy."
"You make the demand badly," replied Aramis; "and while
acknowledging the justice of your reclamation, I refuse it on
account of the form."
"The fact is," hazarded d'Artagnan, timidly, "I did not see the
handkerchief fall from the pocket of Monsieur Aramis. He had his

58
foot upon it, that is all; and I thought from having his foot upon it
the handkerchief was his."
"And you were deceived, my dear sir," replied Aramis, coldly,
very little sensible to the reparation. Then turning toward that one
of the guards who had declared himself the friend of Bois-Tracy,
"Besides," continued he, "I have reflected, my dear intimate of
Bois-Tracy, that I am not less tenderly his friend than you can
possibly be; so that decidedly this handkerchief is as likely to have
fallen from your pocket as mine."
"No, upon my honor!" cried his Majesty's Guardsman.
"You are about to swear upon your honor and I upon my word,
and then it will be pretty evident that one of us will have lied.
Now, here, Montaran, we will do better than that--let each take a
half."
"Of the handkerchief?"
"Yes."
"Perfectly just," cried the other two Guardsmen, "the judgment
of King Solomon! Aramis, you certainly are full of wisdom!"
The young men burst into a laugh, and as may be supposed,
the affair had no other sequel. In a moment or two the
conversation ceased, and the three Guardsmen and the
Musketeer, after having cordially shaken hands, separated, the
Guardsmen going one way and Aramis another.
"Now is my time to make peace with this gallant man," said
d'Artagnan to himself, having stood on one side during the whole
of the latter part of the conversation; and with this good feeling
drawing near to Aramis, who was departing without paying any
attention to him, "Monsieur," said he, "you will excuse me, I
hope."
"Ah, monsieur," interrupted Aramis, "permit me to observe to
you that you have not acted in this affair as a gallant man ought."

59
 "What, monsieur!" cried d'Artagnan, "and do you suppose--"
"I suppose, monsieur, that you are not a fool, and that you
knew very well, although coming from Gascony, that people do
not tread upon handkerchiefs without a reason. What the devil!
Paris is not paved with cambric!"
"Monsieur, you act wrongly in endeavoring to mortify me,"
said d'Artagnan, in whom the natural quarrelsome spirit began to
speak more loudly than his pacific resolutions. "I am from
Gascony, it is true; and since you know it, there is no occasion to
tell you that Gascons are not very patient, so that when they have
begged to be excused once, were it even for a folly, they are
convinced that they have done already at least as much again as
they ought to have done."
"Monsieur, what I say to you about the matter," said Aramis,
"is not for the sake of seeking a quarrel. Thank God, I am not a
bravo! And being a Musketeer but for a time, I only fight when I
am forced to do so, and always with great repugnance; but this
time the affair is serious, for here is a lady compromised by you."
"By US, you mean!" cried d'Artagnan.
"Why did you so maladroitly restore me the handkerchief?"
"Why did you so awkwardly let it fall?"
"I have said, monsieur, and I repeat, that the handkerchief did
not fall from my pocket."
"And thereby you have lied twice, monsieur, for I saw it fall."
"Ah, you take it with that tone, do you, Master Gascon? Well, I
will teach you how to behave yourself."
"And I will send you back to your Mass book, Master Abbe.
Draw, if you please, and instantly--"
"Not so, if you please, my good friend--not here, at least. Do
you not perceive that we are opposite the Hotel d'Arguillon, which
is full of the cardinal's creatures? How do I know that this is not

60
his Eminence who has honored you with the commission to
procure my head? Now, I entertain a ridiculous partiality for my
head, it seems to suit my shoulders so correctly. I wish to kill you,
be at rest as to that, but to kill you quietly in a snug, remote place,
where you will not be able to boast of your death to anybody."
"I agree, monsieur; but do not be too confident. Take your
handkerchief; whether it belongs to you or another, you may
perhaps stand in need of it."
"Monsieur is a Gascon?" asked Aramis.
"Yes. Monsieur does not postpone an interview through
prudence?"
"Prudence, monsieur, is a virtue sufficiently useless to
Musketeers, I know, but indispensable to churchmen; and as I am
only a Musketeer provisionally, I hold it good to be prudent. At
two o'clock I shall have the honor of expecting you at the hotel of
Monsieur de Treville. There I will indicate to you the best place
and time."
The two young men bowed and separated, Aramis ascending
the street which led to the Luxembourg, while d'Artagnan,
perceiving the appointed hour was approaching, took the road to
the Carmes-Deschaux, saying to himself, "Decidedly I can't draw
back; but at least, if I am killed, I shall be killed by a Musketeer."

61
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