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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“This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put up with it for the sake of remaining with you.”
“I am grateful to you for the sacrifice,” said Aramis; “but if your body be not greatly benefited by it, be assured your soul will.”
“And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? What will our two friends say? What will M. de Tréville say? They will treat you as a deserter, I warn you.”
“I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it. I deserted the Church for the world, for you know that I forced myself when I became a musketeer.”
“I? I know nothing about it.”
“You don’t know I quit the seminary?”
“Not at all.”
“This is my story, then. Besides, the Scriptures say, ‘Confess yourselves to one another,’ and I confess to you, d’Artagnan.”
“And I give you absolution beforehand. You see I am a good sort of a man.”
“Do not jest about holy things, my friend.”
“Go on, then, I listen.”
“I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days I should have been twenty. I was about to become an abbé, and all was arranged. One evening I went, according to custom, to a house which I frequented with much pleasure: when one is young, what can be expected?—one is weak. An officer who saw me, with a jealous eye, reading the Lives of the Saints to the mistress of the house, entered suddenly and without being announced. That evening I had translated an episode of Judith, and had just communicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts of compliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them a second time with me. Her pose, which I must admit was rather free, wounded this officer. He said nothing; but when I went out he followed, and quickly came up with me. ‘Monsieur the Abbé,’ said he, ‘do you like blows with a cane?’ ‘I cannot say, Monsieur,’ answered I; ‘no one has ever dared to give me any.’ ‘Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbé! If you venture again into the house in which I have met you this evening, I will dare it myself.’ I really think I must have been frightened. I became very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply, but could find none—I was silent. The officer waited for his reply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh, turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house. I returned to the seminary.
“I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have remarked, my dear d’Artagnan. The insult was terrible, and although unknown to the rest of the world, I felt it live and fester at the bottom of my heart. I informed my superiors that I did not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and at my request the ceremony was postponed for a year. I sought out the best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him to take a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took that lesson. Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had been insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of a cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and to which I knew my man was invited. It was in the Rue des France-Bourgeois, close to La Force. As I expected, my officer was there. I went up to him as he was singing a love ditty and looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him exactly in the middle of the second couplet. ‘Monsieur,’ said I, ‘does it still displease you that I should frequent a certain house in Rue Payenne? And would you still cane me if I took it into my head to disobey you?’ The officer looked at me with astonishment, and then said, ‘What is your business with me, Monsieur? I do not know you.’ ‘I am,’ said I, ‘the little abbé who reads Lives of the Saints, and translates Judith into verse.’ ‘Ah, ah! I recollect now,’ said the officer, in a jeering tone; ‘well, what do you want with me?’ ‘I want you to spare time to take a walk with me.’ ‘Tomorrow morning, if you like, with the greatest pleasure.’ ‘No, not tomorrow morning, if you please, but immediately.’ ‘If you absolutely insist.’ ‘I do insist upon it.’ ‘Come, then. Ladies,’ said the officer, ‘do not disturb yourselves; allow me time just to kill this gentleman, and I will return and finish the last couplet.’
“We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the same spot where, a year before, at the very same hour, he had paid me the compliment I have related to you. It was a superb moonlight night. We immediately drew, and at the first pass I laid him stark dead.”
“The devil!” cried d’Artagnan.
“Now,” continued Aramis, “as the ladies did not see the singer come back, and as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a great sword wound through his body, it was supposed that I had accommodated him thus; and the matter created some scandal which obliged me to renounce the cassock for a time. Athos, whose acquaintance I made about that period, and Porthos, who had in addition to my lessons taught me some effective tricks of fence, prevailed upon me to solicit the uniform of a musketeer. The king entertained great regard for my father, who had fallen at the siege of Arras, and the uniform was granted. You may understand that the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of the Church.”
“And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What has happened to you today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?”
“This wound, my dear d’Artagnan, has been
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