The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (to read list txt) 📕
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The Three Musketeers is the first of three adventure novels written by Alexandre Dumas featuring the character of d’Artagnan.
The young d’Artagnan leaves home in Gascony for Paris to join the King’s Musketeers. On his way to Paris, the letter which will introduce him to the commander of the Musketeers is stolen by a mysterious man in the town of Meung. This “Man of Meung” turns out to be a confidant of the infamous Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister of the government of France.
When he arrives in Paris and seeks an audience with the commander of the Musketeers, d’Artagnan sees this man again and rushes to confront him. As he pushes his way out he provokes three inseparable musketeers—Athos, Porthos and Aramis—and ends up setting up duels with all three of them that afternoon. At the first of the duels he discovers, to his surprise, that each of the three is a second to the other. As they start to fight, they are ambushed by the Cardinal’s men and join forces. So begins one of the most enduring partnerships in literature.
When d’Artagnan’s landlord tells him that his wife has been kidnapped, d’Artagnan investigates, falls in love and becomes embroiled in a plot to destabilize France.
The Three Musketeers was first published in 1844 and has been adapted for stage, film, television, and animation many times; such is the endurance of its appeal. At its heart is a fast-paced tale of love and adventure.
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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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Athos came down; his friends, who anxiously awaited him, saw him returned with joy.
“Come along, Athos, come along!” cried d’Artagnan; “now we have found everything except money, it would be stupid to be killed.”
But Athos continued to march majestically, whatever remarks his companions made; and they, finding their remarks useless, regulated their pace by his.
Grimaud and his basket were far in advance, out of the range of the balls.
At the end of an instant they heard a furious fusillade.
“What’s that?” asked Porthos, “what are they firing at now? I hear no balls whistle, and I see nobody!”
“They are firing at the corpses,” replied Athos.
“But the dead cannot return their fire.”
“Certainly not! They will then fancy it is an ambuscade, they will deliberate; and by the time they have found out the pleasantry, we shall be out of the range of their balls. That renders it useless to get a pleurisy by too much haste.”
“Oh, I comprehend now,” said the astonished Porthos.
“That’s lucky,” said Athos, shrugging his shoulders.
On their part, the French, on seeing the four friends return at such a step, uttered cries of enthusiasm.
At length a fresh discharge was heard, and this time the balls came rattling among the stones around the four friends, and whistling sharply in their ears. The Rochellais had at last taken possession of the bastion.
“These Rochellais are bungling fellows,” said Athos; “how many have we killed of them—a dozen?”
“Or fifteen.”
“How many did we crush under the wall?”
“Eight or ten.”
“And in exchange for all that not even a scratch! Ah, but what is the matter with your hand, d’Artagnan? It bleeds, seemingly.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said d’Artagnan.
“A spent ball?”
“Not even that.”
“What is it, then?”
We have said that Athos loved d’Artagnan like a child, and this somber and inflexible personage felt the anxiety of a parent for the young man.
“Only grazed a little,” replied d’Artagnan; “my fingers were caught between two stones—that of the wall and that of my ring—and the skin was broken.”
“That comes of wearing diamonds, my master,” said Athos, disdainfully.
“Ah, to be sure,” cried Porthos, “there is a diamond. Why the devil, then, do we plague ourselves about money, when there is a diamond?”
“Stop a bit!” said Aramis.
“Well thought of, Porthos; this time you have an idea.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Porthos, drawing himself up at Athos’s compliment; “as there is a diamond, let us sell it.”
“But,” said d’Artagnan, “it is the queen’s diamond.”
“The stronger reason why it should be sold,” replied Athos. “The queen saving M. de Buckingham, her lover; nothing more just. The queen saving us, her friends; nothing more moral. Let us sell the diamond. What says Monsieur the Abbé? I don’t ask Porthos; his opinion has been given.”
“Why, I think,” said Aramis, blushing as usual, “that his ring not coming from a mistress, and consequently not being a love token, d’Artagnan may sell it.”
“My dear Aramis, you speak like theology personified. Your advice, then, is—”
“To sell the diamond,” replied Aramis.
“Well, then,” said d’Artagnan, gaily, “let us sell the diamond, and say no more about it.”
The fusillade continued; but the four friends were out of reach, and the Rochellais only fired to appease their consciences.
“My faith, it was time that idea came into Porthos’s head. Here we are at the camp; therefore, gentlemen, not a word more of this affair. We are observed; they are coming to meet us. We shall be carried in triumph.”
In fact, as we have said, the whole camp was in motion. More than two thousand persons had assisted, as at a spectacle, in this fortunate but wild undertaking of the four friends—an undertaking of which they were far from suspecting the real motive. Nothing was heard but cries of “Live the Musketeers! Live the Guards!” M. de Busigny was the first to come and shake Athos by the hand, and acknowledge that the wager was lost. The dragoon and the Swiss followed him, and all their comrades followed the dragoon and the Swiss. There was nothing but felicitations, pressures of the hand, and embraces; there was no end to the inextinguishable laughter at the Rochellais. The tumult at length became so great that the cardinal fancied there must be some riot, and sent La Houdinière, his captain of the Guards, to inquire what was going on.
The affair was described to the messenger with all the effervescence of enthusiasm.
“Well?” asked the cardinal, on seeing La Houdinière return.
“Well, monseigneur,” replied the latter, “three musketeers and a guardsman laid a wager with M. de Busigny that they would go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais; and while breakfasting they held it for two hours against the enemy, and have killed I don’t know how many Rochellais.”
“Did you inquire the names of those three musketeers?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“What are their names?”
“MM. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.”
“Still my three brave fellows!” murmured the cardinal. “And the guardsman?”
“D’Artagnan.”
“Still my young scapegrace. Positively, these four men must be on my side.”
The same evening the cardinal spoke to M. de Tréville of the exploit of the morning, which was the talk of the whole camp. M. de Tréville, who had received the account of the adventure from the mouths of the heroes of it, related it in all its details to his Eminence, not forgetting the episode of the napkin.
“That’s well, M. de Tréville,” said the cardinal; “pray let that napkin be sent to me. I will have three fleur-de-lis embroidered on it in gold, and will give it to your company as a standard.”
“Monseigneur,” said M. de Tréville, “that will be unjust to the Guardsmen. M. d’Artagnan is not with me; he serves under M. des Essart.”
“Well, then, take him,” said the cardinal; “when four men are so much attached to one another, it is only fair that they should serve in the same company.”
That same evening M. de Tréville announced this good news to the three musketeers and d’Artagnan, inviting all four to breakfast with him next morning.
D’Artagnan was beside himself with joy. We know that
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