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 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
paternal estimation.



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 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, 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.  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.

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 heat, ranging his long rapier
up his lanky leg, and keeping one hand on the edge of his cap,
with that half-smile of the embarrassed a 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.  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 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 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 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.

"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?"

"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.

"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."

"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.



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 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 then 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."

*A watered 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 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.  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 MORBLUES, 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 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!"

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 was so loudly called for
had 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,
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."

"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."

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 to tell you 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 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 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."

"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 was 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 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 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 of he meant to
deceive 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.

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!"



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

D'Artagnan, 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
inte