The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (to read list txt) 📕

“Ah, indeed,” said d’Artagnan. “Well, your publisher is very generous, my dear Aramis, that’s all I can say.”

“How, Monsieur?” cried Bazin, “a poem sell so dear as that! It is incredible! Oh, Monsieur, you can write as much as you like; you may become equal to M. de Voiture and M. de Benserade. I like that. A poet is as good as an abbé. Ah! M. Aramis, become a poet, I beg of you.”

“Bazin, my friend,” said Aramis, “I believe you meddle with my conversation.”

Bazin perceived he was wrong; he bowed and went out.

“Ah!” said d’Artagnan with a smile, “you sell your productions at their weight in gold. You are very fortunate, my friend; but take care or you will lose that letter which is peeping from your doublet, and which also comes, no doubt, from your publisher.”

Aramis blushed to the eyes, crammed in the letter, and re-buttoned his doublet.

“My dear d’Artagnan,” said he, “if you please, we will join our friends; as I am rich, we will today begin to dine together again, expecting that you will be rich in your turn.”

“My faith!” said d’Artagnan, with great pleasure. “It is long since we have had a good dinner; and I, for my part, have a somewhat hazardous expedition for this evening, and shall not be sorry, I confess, to fortify myself with a few glasses of good old Burgundy.”

“Agreed, as to the old Burgundy; I have no objection to that,” said Aramis, from whom the letter and the gold had removed, as by magic, his ideas of conversion.

And having put three or four double pistoles into his pocket to answer the needs of the moment, he placed the others in the ebony box, inlaid with mother of pearl, in which was the famous handkerchief which served him as a talisman.

The two friends repaired to Athos’s, and he, faithful to his vow of not going out, took upon him to order dinner to be brought to them. As he was perfectly acquainted with the details of gastronomy, d’Artagnan and Aramis made no objection to abandoning this important care to him.

They went to find Porthos, and at the corner of the Rue Bac met Mousqueton, who, with a most pitiable air, was driving before him a mule and a horse.

D’Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise, which was not quite free from joy.

“Ah, my yellow horse,” cried he. “Aramis, look at that horse!”

“Oh, the frightful brute!” said Aramis.

“Ah, my dear,” replied d’Artagnan, “upon that very horse I came to Paris.”

“What, does Monsieur know this horse?” said Mousqueton.

“It is of an original color,” said Aramis; “I never saw one with such a hide in my life.”

“I can well believe it,” replied d’Artagnan, “and that was why I got three crowns for him. It must have been for his hide, for, certes, the carcass is not worth eighteen livres. But how did this horse come into your hands, Mousqueton?”

“Pray,” said the lackey, “say nothing about it, Monsieur; it is a frightful trick of the husband of our duchess!”

“How is that, Mousqueton?”

“Why, we are looked upon with a rather favorable eye by a lady of quality, the Duchesse de⁠—but, your pardon; my master has commanded me to be discreet. She had forced us to accept a little souvenir, a magnificent Spanish genet and an Andalusian mule, which were beautiful to look upon. The husband heard of the affair; on their way he confiscated the two magnificent beasts which were being sent to us, and substituted these horrible animals.”

“Which you are taking back to him?” said d’Artagnan.

“Exactly!” replied Mousqueton. “You may well believe that we will not accept such steeds as these in exchange for those which had been promised to us.”

“No, pardieu; though I should like to have seen Porthos on my yellow horse. That would give me an idea of how I looked when I arrived in Paris. But don’t let us hinder you, Mousqueton; go and perform your master’s orders. Is he at home?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” said Mousqueton, “but in a very ill humor. Get up!”

He continued his way toward the Quai des Grands Augustins, while the two friends went to ring at the bell of the unfortunate Porthos. He, having seen them crossing the yard, took care not to answer, and they rang in vain.

Meanwhile Mousqueton continued on his way, and crossing the Pont Neuf, still driving the two sorry animals before him, he reached the Rue aux Ours. Arrived there, he fastened, according to the orders of his master, both horse and mule to the knocker of the procurator’s door; then, without taking any thought for their future, he returned to Porthos, and told him that his commission was completed.

In a short time the two unfortunate beasts, who had not eaten anything since the morning, made such a noise in raising and letting fall the knocker that the procurator ordered his errand boy to go and inquire in the neighborhood to whom this horse and mule belonged.

Madame Coquenard recognized her present, and could not at first comprehend this restitution; but the visit of Porthos soon enlightened her. The anger which fired the eyes of the musketeer, in spite of his efforts to suppress it, terrified his sensitive inamorata. In fact, Mousqueton had not concealed from his master that he had met d’Artagnan and Aramis, and that d’Artagnan in the yellow horse had recognized the Béarnese pony upon which he had come to Paris, and which he had sold for three crowns.

Porthos went away after having appointed a meeting with the procurator’s wife in the cloister of St. Magloire. The procurator, seeing he was going, invited him to dinner⁠—an invitation which the musketeer refused with a majestic air.

Madame Coquenard repaired trembling to the cloister of St. Magloire, for she guessed the reproaches that awaited her there; but she was fascinated by the lofty airs of Porthos.

All that which a man wounded in his self-love could let fall in the shape of imprecations and reproaches upon the head of a woman