The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (to read list txt) 📕
Description
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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“But tell me, my dear sister,” replied he, “what makes you come to England?”
“I come to see you,” replied Milady, without knowing how much she aggravated by this reply the suspicions to which d’Artagnan’s letter had given birth in the mind of her brother-in-law, and only desiring to gain the good will of her auditor by a falsehood.
“Ah, to see me?” said de Winter, cunningly.
“To be sure, to see you. What is there astonishing in that?”
“And you had no other object in coming to England but to see me?”
“No.”
“So it was for me alone you have taken the trouble to cross the Channel?”
“For you alone.”
“The deuce! What tenderness, my sister!”
“But am I not your nearest relative?” demanded Milady, with a tone of the most touching ingenuousness.
“And my only heir, are you not?” said Lord de Winter in his turn, fixing his eyes on those of Milady.
Whatever command she had over herself, Milady could not help starting; and as in pronouncing the last words Lord de Winter placed his hand upon the arm of his sister, this start did not escape him.
In fact, the blow was direct and severe. The first idea that occurred to Milady’s mind was that she had been betrayed by Kitty, and that she had recounted to the baron the selfish aversion toward himself of which she had imprudently allowed some marks to escape before her servant. She also recollected the furious and imprudent attack she had made upon d’Artagnan when he spared the life of her brother.
“I do not understand, my Lord,” said she, in order to gain time and make her adversary speak out. “What do you mean to say? Is there any secret meaning concealed beneath your words?”
“Oh, my God, no!” said Lord de Winter, with apparent good nature. “You wish to see me, and you come to England. I learn this desire, or rather I suspect that you feel it; and in order to spare you all the annoyances of a nocturnal arrival in a port and all the fatigues of landing, I send one of my officers to meet you, I place a carriage at his orders, and he brings you hither to this castle, of which I am governor, whither I come every day, and where, in order to satisfy our mutual desire of seeing each other, I have prepared you a chamber. What is there more astonishing in all that I have said to you than in what you have told me?”
“No; what I think astonishing is that you should expect my coming.”
“And yet that is the most simple thing in the world, my dear sister. Have you not observed that the captain of your little vessel, on entering the roadstead, sent forward, in order to obtain permission to enter the port, a little boat bearing his logbook and the register of his voyagers? I am commandant of the port. They brought me that book. I recognized your name in it. My heart told me what your mouth has just confirmed—that is to say, with what view you have exposed yourself to the dangers of a sea so perilous, or at least so troublesome at this moment—and I sent my cutter to meet you. You know the rest.”
Milady knew that Lord de Winter lied, and she was the more alarmed.
“My brother,” continued she, “was not that my Lord Buckingham whom I saw on the jetty this evening as we arrived?”
“Himself. Ah, I can understand how the sight of him struck you,” replied Lord de Winter. “You came from a country where he must be very much talked of, and I know that his armaments against France greatly engage the attention of your friend the cardinal.”
“My friend the cardinal!” cried Milady, seeing that on this point as on the other Lord de Winter seemed well instructed.
“Is he not your friend?” replied the baron, negligently. “Ah, pardon! I thought so; but we will return to my Lord Duke presently. Let us not depart from the sentimental turn our conversation had taken. You came, you say, to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I reply that you shall be served to the height of your wishes, and that we shall see each other every day.”
“Am I, then, to remain here eternally?” demanded Milady, with a certain terror.
“Do you find yourself badly lodged, sister? Demand anything you want, and I will hasten to have you furnished with it.”
“But I have neither my women nor my servants.”
“You shall have all, Madame. Tell me on what footing your household was established by your first husband, and although I am only your brother-in-law, I will arrange one similar.”
“My first husband!” cried Milady, looking at Lord de Winter with eyes almost starting from their sockets.
“Yes, your French husband. I don’t speak of my brother. If you have forgotten, as he is still living, I can write to him and he will send me information on the subject.”
A cold sweat burst from the brow of Milady.
“You jest!” said she, in a hollow voice.
“Do I look so?” asked the baron, rising and going a step backward.
“Or rather you insult me,” continued she, pressing with her stiffened hands the two arms of her easy chair, and raising herself upon her wrists.
“I insult you!” said Lord de Winter, with contempt. “In truth, Madame, do you think that can be possible?”
“Indeed, sir,” said Milady, “you must be either drunk or mad. Leave the room, and send me a woman.”
“Women are very indiscreet, my sister. Cannot I serve you as a waiting maid? By that means all our secrets will remain in the family.”
“Insolent!” cried Milady; and as if acted upon by a spring, she bounded toward the baron, who awaited her attack with his arms crossed, but nevertheless with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Come!” said he. “I know you are accustomed to assassinate people; but I warn you I shall defend myself, even against you.”
“You are right,” said Milady. “You
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