The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas [top business books of all time TXT] 📗

It may be supposed that his desire to hear the conversation was augmented by this discovery. His eyes took a strange expression, and with the step of a tiger-cat he advanced toward the hedge; but he had not been able to catch more than a few vague syllables without any positive sense, when a sonorous and short cry made him start, and attracted the attention of the musketeers.

“Officer!” cried Grimaud.

“You are speaking, you scoundrel!” said Athos, rising upon his elbow, and transfixing Grimaud with his flaming look.

Grimaud therefore added nothing to his speech, but contented himself with pointing his index finger in the direction of the hedge, announcing by this gesture the cardinal and his escort.

With a single bound the musketeers were on their feet, and saluted with respect.

The cardinal seemed furious.

“It appears that Messieurs the Musketeers keep guard,” said he. “Are the English expected by land, or do the musketeers consider themselves superior officers?”

“Monseigneur,” replied Athos, for amid the general fright he alone had preserved the noble calmness and coolness that never forsook him, “Monseigneur, the musketeers, when they are not on duty, or when their duty is over, drink and play at dice, and they are certainly superior officers to their lackeys.”

“Lackeys?” grumbled the cardinal. “Lackeys who have the order to warn their masters when anyone passes are not lackeys, they are sentinels.”

“Your Eminence may perceive that if we had not taken this precaution, we should have been exposed to allowing you to pass without presenting you our respects or offering you our thanks for the favor you have done us in uniting us. D’Artagnan,” continued Athos, “you, who but lately were so anxious for such an opportunity for expressing your gratitude to Monseigneur, here it is; avail yourself of it.”

These words were pronounced with that imperturbable phlegm which distinguished Athos in the hour of danger, and with that excessive politeness which made of him at certain moments a king more majestic than kings by birth.

D’Artagnan came forward and stammered out a few words of gratitude which soon expired under the gloomy looks of the cardinal.

“It does not signify, gentlemen,” continued the cardinal, without appearing to be in the least swerved from his first intention by the diversion which Athos had started, “it does not signify, gentlemen. I do not like to have simple soldiers, because they have the advantage of serving in a privileged corps, thus to play the great lords; discipline is the same for them as for everybody else.”

Athos allowed the cardinal to finish his sentence completely, and bowed in sign of assent. Then he resumed in his turn: “Discipline, Monseigneur, has, I hope, in no way been forgotten by us. We are not on duty, and we believed that not being on duty we were at liberty to dispose of our time as we pleased. If we are so fortunate as to have some particular duty to perform for your Eminence, we are ready to obey you. Your Eminence may perceive,” continued Athos, knitting his brow, for this sort of investigation began to annoy him, “that we have not come out without our arms.”

And he showed the cardinal, with his finger, the four muskets piled near the drum, on which were the cards and dice.

“Your Eminence may believe,” added d’Artagnan, “that we would have come to meet you, if we could have supposed it was Monseigneur coming toward us with so few attendants.”

The cardinal bit his mustache, and even his lips a little.

“Do you know what you look like, all together, as you are armed and guarded by your lackeys?” said the cardinal. “You look like four conspirators.”

“Oh, as to that, Monseigneur, it is true,” said Athos; “we do conspire, as your Eminence might have seen the other morning. Only we conspire against the Rochellais.”

“Ah, you gentlemen of policy!” replied the cardinal, knitting his brow in his turn, “the secret of many unknown things might perhaps be found in your brains, if we could read them as you read that letter which you concealed as soon as you saw me coming.”

The color mounted to the face of Athos, and he made a step toward his Eminence.

“One might think you really suspected us, monseigneur, and we were undergoing a real interrogatory. If it be so, we trust your Eminence will deign to explain yourself, and we should then at least be acquainted with our real position.”

“And if it were an interrogatory!” replied the cardinal. “Others besides you have undergone such, M. Athos, and have replied thereto.”

“Thus I have told your Eminence that you had but to question us, and we are ready to reply.”

“What was that letter you were about to read, M. Aramis, and which you so promptly concealed?”

“A woman’s letter, monseigneur.”

“Ah, yes, I see,” said the cardinal; “we must be discreet with this sort of letters; but nevertheless, we may show them to a confessor, and you know I have taken orders.”

“Monseigneur,” said Athos, with a calmness the more terrible because he risked his head in making this reply, “the letter is a woman’s letter, but it is neither signed Marion de Lorme, nor Madame d’Aiguillon.”

The cardinal became as pale as death; lightning darted from his eyes. He turned round as if to give an order to Cahusac and Houdinière. Athos saw the movement; he made a step toward the muskets, upon which the other three friends had fixed their eyes, like men ill-disposed to allow themselves to be taken. The cardinalists were three; the musketeers, lackeys included, were seven. He judged that the match would be so much the less equal, if Athos and his companions were really plotting; and by one of those rapid turns which he always had at command, all his anger faded away into a smile.

“Well, well!” said he, “you are brave young men, proud in daylight, faithful in darkness. We can find no fault with you for watching over yourselves, when you watch so carefully over others. Gentlemen, I have not forgotten the night in which you