readenglishbook.com » Fiction » The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas [robert munsch read aloud .txt] 📗

Book online «The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas [robert munsch read aloud .txt] 📗». Author Alexandre Dumas



1 ... 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 ... 105
Go to page:
him she agreed, and not with me; he even has in his pocket a letter from that person, who attaches great importance to you, as I have heard him say.”

“But how did you become concerned in this villainous affair?”

“He proposed to me to undertake it with him, and I agreed.”

“And how much did she give you for this fine enterprise?”

“A hundred louis.”

“Well, come!” said the young man, laughing, “she thinks I am worth something. A hundred louis? Well, that was a temptation for two wretches like you. I understand why you accepted it, and I grant you my pardon; but upon one condition.”

“What is that?” said the soldier, uneasy at perceiving that all was not over.

“That you will go and fetch me the letter your comrade has in his pocket.”

“But,” cried the bandit, “that is only another way of killing me. How can I go and fetch that letter under the fire of the bastion?”

“You must nevertheless make up your mind to go and get it, or I swear you shall die by my hand.”

“Pardon, monsieur; pity! In the name of that young lady you love, and whom you perhaps believe dead but who is not!” cried the bandit, throwing himself upon his knees and leaning upon his hand—for he began to lose his strength with his blood.

“And how do you know there is a young woman whom I love, and that I believed that woman dead?” asked d’Artagnan.

“By that letter which my comrade has in his pocket.”

“You see, then,” said d’Artagnan, “that I must have that letter. So no more delay, no more hesitation; or else whatever may be my repugnance to soiling my sword a second time with the blood of a wretch like you, I swear by my faith as an honest man—” and at these words d’Artagnan made so fierce a gesture that the wounded man sprang up.

“Stop, stop!” cried he, regaining strength by force of terror. “I will go—I will go!”

D’Artagnan took the soldier’s arquebus, made him go on before him, and urged him toward his companion by pricking him behind with his sword.

It was a frightful thing to see this wretch, leaving a long track of blood on the ground he passed over, pale with approaching death, trying to drag himself along without being seen to the body of his accomplice, which lay twenty paces from him.

Terror was so strongly painted on his face, covered with a cold sweat, that d’Artagnan took pity on him, and casting upon him a look of contempt, “Stop,” said he, “I will show you the difference between a man of courage and such a coward as you. Stay where you are; I will go myself.”

And with a light step, an eye on the watch, observing the movements of the enemy and taking advantage of the accidents of the ground, d’Artagnan succeeded in reaching the second soldier.

There were two means of gaining his object—to search him on the spot, or to carry him away, making a buckler of his body, and search him in the trench.

D’Artagnan preferred the second means, and lifted the assassin onto his shoulders at the moment the enemy fired.

A slight shock, the dull noise of three balls which penetrated the flesh, a last cry, a convulsion of agony, proved to d’Artagnan that the would-be assassin had saved his life.

D’Artagnan regained the trench, and threw the corpse beside the wounded man, who was as pale as death.

Then he began to search. A leather pocketbook, a purse, in which was evidently a part of the sum which the bandit had received, with a dice box and dice, completed the possessions of the dead man.

He left the box and dice where they fell, threw the purse to the wounded man, and eagerly opened the pocketbook.

Among some unimportant papers he found the following letter, that which he had sought at the risk of his life:

“Since you have lost sight of that woman and she is now in safety in the convent, which you should never have allowed her to reach, try, at least, not to miss the man. If you do, you know that my hand stretches far, and that you shall pay very dearly for the hundred louis you have from me.”

No signature. Nevertheless it was plain the letter came from Milady. He consequently kept it as a piece of evidence, and being in safety behind the angle of the trench, he began to interrogate the wounded man. He confessed that he had undertaken with his comrade—the same who was killed—to carry off a young woman who was to leave Paris by the Barrière de La Villette; but having stopped to drink at a cabaret, they had missed the carriage by ten minutes.

“But what were you to do with that woman?” asked d’Artagnan, with anguish.

“We were to have conveyed her to a hôtel in the Place Royale,” said the wounded man.

“Yes, yes!” murmured d’Artagnan; “that’s the place—Milady’s own residence!”

Then the young man tremblingly comprehended what a terrible thirst for vengeance urged this woman on to destroy him, as well as all who loved him, and how well she must be acquainted with the affairs of the court, since she had discovered all. There could be no doubt she owed this information to the cardinal.

But amid all this he perceived, with a feeling of real joy, that the queen must have discovered the prison in which poor Mme. Bonacieux was explaining her devotion, and that she had freed her from that prison; and the letter he had received from the young woman, and her passage along the road of Chaillot like an apparition, were now explained.

Then also, as Athos had predicted, it became possible to find Mme. Bonacieux, and a convent was not impregnable.

This idea completely restored clemency to his heart. He turned toward the wounded man, who had watched with intense anxiety all the various expressions of his countenance, and holding out his arm to him, said, “Come, I will not abandon you thus. Lean upon me, and let us return to the camp.”

“Yes,” said the man, who could scarcely believe in such magnanimity, “but is it not to have me hanged?”

“You have my word,” said he; “for the second time I give you your life.”

The wounded man sank upon his knees, to again kiss the feet of his preserver; but d’Artagnan, who had no longer a motive for staying so near the enemy, abridged the testimonials of his gratitude.

The Guardsman who had returned at the first discharge announced the death of his four companions. They were therefore much astonished and delighted in the regiment when they saw the young man come back safe and sound.

D’Artagnan explained the sword wound of his companion by a sortie which he improvised. He described the death of the other soldier, and the perils they had encountered. This recital was for him the occasion of veritable triumph. The whole army talked of this expedition for a day, and Monsieur paid him his compliments upon it. Besides this, as every great action bears its recompense with it, the brave exploit of d’Artagnan resulted in the restoration of the tranquility he had lost. In fact, d’Artagnan believed that he might be tranquil, as one of his two enemies was killed and the other devoted to his interests.

This tranquillity proved one thing—that d’Artagnan did not yet know Milady.

42
THE ANJOU WINE

After the most disheartening news of the king’s health, a report of his convalescence began to prevail in the camp; and as he was very anxious to be in person at the siege, it was said that as soon as he could mount a horse he would set forward.

Meantime, Monsieur, who knew that from one day to the other he might expect to be removed from his command by the Duc d’Angouleme, by Bassompierre, or by Schomberg, who were all eager for his post, did but little, lost his days in wavering, and did not dare to attempt any great enterprise to drive the English from the Isle of Ré, where they still besieged the citadel St. Martin and the fort of La Pree, as on their side the French were besieging La Rochelle.

D’Artagnan, as we have said, had become more tranquil, as always happens after a past danger, particularly when the danger seems to have vanished. He only felt one uneasiness, and that was at not hearing any tidings from his friends.

But one morning at the commencement of the month of November everything was explained to him by this letter, dated from Villeroy:

M. d’Artagnan,

MM. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, after having had an entertainment at my house and enjoying themselves very much, created such a disturbance that the provost of the castle, a rigid man, has ordered them to be confined for some days; but I accomplish the order they have given me by forwarding to you a dozen bottles of my Anjou wine, with which they are much pleased. They are desirous that you should drink to their health in their favorite wine. I have done this, and am, monsieur, with great respect,

Your very humble and obedient servant,

Godeau, Purveyor of the Musketeers

“That’s all well!” cried d’Artagnan. “They think of me in their pleasures, as I thought of them in my troubles. Well, I will certainly drink to their health with all my heart, but I will not drink alone.”

And d’Artagnan went among those Guardsmen with whom he had formed greater intimacy than with the others, to invite them to enjoy with him this present of delicious Anjou wine which had been sent him from Villeroy.

One of the two Guardsmen was engaged that evening, and another the next, so the meeting was fixed for the day after that.

D’Artagnan, on his return, sent the twelve bottles of wine to the refreshment room of the Guards, with strict orders that great care should be taken of it; and then, on the day appointed, as the dinner was fixed for midday d’Artagnan sent Planchet at nine in the morning to assist in preparing everything for the entertainment.

Planchet, very proud of being raised to the dignity of landlord, thought he would make all ready, like an intelligent man; and with this view called in the assistance of the lackey of one of his master’s guests, named Fourreau, and the false soldier who had tried to kill d’Artagnan and who, belonging to no corps, had entered into the service of d’Artagnan, or rather of Planchet, after d’Artagnan had saved his life.

The hour of the banquet being come, the two guards arrived, took their places, and the dishes were arranged on the table. Planchet waited, towel on arm; Fourreau uncorked the bottles; and Brisemont, which was the name of the convalescent, poured the wine, which was a little shaken by its journey, carefully into decanters. Of this wine, the first bottle being a little thick at the bottom, Brisemont poured the lees into a glass, and d’Artagnan desired him to drink it, for the poor devil had not yet recovered his strength.

The guests having eaten the soup, were about to lift the first glass of wine to their lips, when all at once the cannon sounded from Fort Louis and Fort Neuf. The Guardsmen, imagining this to be caused by some unexpected attack, either of the besieged or the English, sprang to their swords. D’Artagnan, not less forward than they, did likewise, and all ran out, in order to repair to their posts.

But scarcely were they out of the room before they were made aware of the cause of this noise. Cries of “Live the king! Live the cardinal!” resounded on every side, and the drums were beaten in all directions.

In short, the king, impatient, as has been said, had come by forced marches, and had that moment arrived with all his household and a reinforcement of ten thousand troops. His Musketeers proceeded and followed him. D’Artagnan, placed in line with his company, saluted with an expressive gesture his three friends, whose eyes soon discovered him, and M. de Tréville, who detected him at once.

The ceremony of reception over, the four friends were soon in one another’s arms.

“Pardieu!” cried d’Artagnan, “you could not have arrived in better time; the dinner cannot have had time to get cold! Can it, gentlemen?” added the young man, turning to the two Guards, whom he introduced to his friends.

“Ah, ah!” said Porthos, “it appears we are feasting!”

“I hope,” said Aramis, “there are no women at your dinner.”

“Is there any drinkable wine in your tavern?” asked Athos.

“Well, pardieu! there is yours, my dear friend,” replied d’Artagnan.

“Our wine!” said Athos, astonished.

“Yes, that you sent me.”

“We sent you wine?”

“You know very well—the wine from the hills of Anjou.”

“Yes, I know what brand you are

1 ... 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 ... 105
Go to page:

Free e-book «The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas [robert munsch read aloud .txt] 📗» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment