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

who, taking advantage of the road being unpaved in this spot, appeared to be employed in digging holes and filling up the ruts with mud.

Aramis, not liking to soil his boots with this artificial mortar, apostrophized them rather sharply. Athos wished to restrain him, but it was too late. The laborers began to jeer the travelers and by their insolence disturbed the equanimity even of the cool Athos, who urged on his horse against one of them.

Then each of these men retreated as far as the ditch, from which each took a concealed musket; the result was that our seven travelers were outnumbered in weapons. Aramis received a ball which passed through his shoulder, and Mousqueton another ball which lodged in the fleshy part which prolongs the lower portion of the loins. Therefore Mousqueton alone fell from his horse, not because he was severely wounded, but not being able to see the wound, he judged it to be more serious than it really was.

“It was an ambuscade!” shouted d’Artagnan. “Don’t waste a charge! Forward!”

Aramis, wounded as he was, seized the mane of his horse, which carried him on with the others. Mousqueton’s horse rejoined them, and galloped by the side of his companions.

“That will serve us for a relay,” said Athos.

“I would rather have had a hat,” said d’Artagnan. “Mine was carried away by a ball. By my faith, it is very fortunate that the letter was not in it.”

“They’ll kill poor Porthos when he comes up,” said Aramis.

“If Porthos were on his legs, he would have rejoined us by this time,” said Athos. “My opinion is that on the ground the drunken man was not intoxicated.”

They continued at their best speed for two hours, although the horses were so fatigued that it was to be feared they would soon refuse service.

The travelers had chosen crossroads in the hope that they might meet with less interruption; but at Crèvecoeur, Aramis declared he could proceed no farther. In fact, it required all the courage which he concealed beneath his elegant form and polished manners to bear him so far. He grew more pale every minute, and they were obliged to support him on his horse. They lifted him off at the door of a cabaret, left Bazin with him, who, besides, in a skirmish was more embarrassing than useful, and set forward again in the hope of sleeping at Amiens.

“Morbleu,” said Athos, as soon as they were again in motion, “reduced to two masters and Grimaud and Planchet! Morbleu! I won’t be their dupe, I will answer for it. I will neither open my mouth nor draw my sword between this and Calais. I swear by⁠—”

“Don’t waste time in swearing,” said d’Artagnan; “let us gallop, if our horses will consent.”

And the travelers buried their rowels in their horses’ flanks, who thus vigorously stimulated recovered their energies. They arrived at Amiens at midnight, and alighted at the auberge of the Golden Lily.

The host had the appearance of as honest a man as any on earth. He received the travelers with his candlestick in one hand and his cotton nightcap in the other. He wished to lodge the two travelers each in a charming chamber; but unfortunately these charming chambers were at the opposite extremities of the hotel. D’Artagnan and Athos refused them. The host replied that he had no other worthy of their Excellencies; but the travelers declared they would sleep in the common chamber, each on a mattress which might be thrown upon the ground. The host insisted; but the travelers were firm, and he was obliged to do as they wished.

They had just prepared their beds and barricaded their door within, when someone knocked at the yard shutter; they demanded who was there, and recognizing the voices of their lackeys, opened the shutter. It was indeed Planchet and Grimaud.

“Grimaud can take care of the horses,” said Planchet. “If you are willing, gentlemen, I will sleep across your doorway, and you will then be certain that nobody can reach you.”

“And on what will you sleep?” said d’Artagnan.

“Here is my bed,” replied Planchet, producing a bundle of straw.

“Come, then,” said d’Artagnan, “you are right. Mine host’s face does not please me at all; it is too gracious.”

“Nor me either,” said Athos.

Planchet mounted by the window and installed himself across the doorway, while Grimaud went and shut himself up in the stable, undertaking that by five o’clock in the morning he and the four horses should be ready.

The night was quiet enough. Toward two o’clock in the morning somebody endeavored to open the door; but as Planchet awoke in an instant and cried, “Who goes there?” somebody replied that he was mistaken, and went away.

At four o’clock in the morning they heard a terrible riot in the stables. Grimaud had tried to waken the stable boys, and the stable boys had beaten him. When they opened the window, they saw the poor lad lying senseless, with his head split by a blow with a pitchfork.

Planchet went down into the yard, and wished to saddle the horses; but the horses were all used up. Mousqueton’s horse which had traveled for five or six hours without a rider the day before, might have been able to pursue the journey; but by an inconceivable error the veterinary surgeon, who had been sent for, as it appeared, to bleed one of the host’s horses, had bled Mousqueton’s.

This began to be annoying. All these successive accidents were perhaps the result of chance; but they might be the fruits of a plot. Athos and d’Artagnan went out, while Planchet was sent to inquire if there were not three horses for sale in the neighborhood. At the door stood two horses, fresh, strong, and fully equipped. These would just have suited them. He asked where their masters were, and was informed that they had passed the night in the inn, and were then settling their bill with the host.

Athos went down to pay the reckoning, while