Reading Help The Three Musketeers Ch.1-18
"But that is not a man's name; that is the name of a mountain," `
` cried the poor questioner, who began to lose his head. `
` `
` "That is my name," said Athos, quietly. `
` `
` "But you said that your name was d'Artagnan." `
` `
` "Who, I?" `
` `
` "Yes, you." `
` `
` "Somebody said to me, 'You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?' I answered, `
` 'You think so?' My guards exclaimed that they were sure of it. `
` I did not wish to contradict them; besides, I might be deceived." `
` `
` "Monsieur, you insult the majesty of justice." `
` `
` "Not at all," said Athos, calmly. `
` `
` "You are Monsieur d'Artagnan." `
` `
` "You see, monsieur, that you say it again." `
` `
` "But I tell you, Monsieur Commissary," cried Bonacieux, in his `
` turn, "there is not the least doubt about the matter. Monsieur `
` d'Artagnan is my tenant, although he does not pay me my rent--and `
` even better on that account ought I to know him. Monsieur `
` d'Artagnan is a young man, scarcely nineteen or twenty, and this `
` gentleman must be thirty at least. Monsieur d'Artagnan is in `
` Monsieur Dessessart's Guards, and this gentleman is in the company of `
` Monsieur de Treville's Musketeers. Look at his uniform, Monsieur `
` Commissary, look at his uniform!" `
` `
` "That's true," murmured the commissary; "PARDIEU, that's true." `
` `
` At this moment the door was opened quickly, and a messenger, `
` introduced by one of the gatekeepers of the Bastille, gave a `
` letter to the commissary. `
` `
` "Oh, unhappy woman!" cried the commissary. `
` `
` "How? What do you say? Of whom do you speak? It is not of my `
` wife, I hope!" `
` `
` "On the contrary, it is of her. Yours is a pretty business." `
` `
` "But," said the agitated mercer, "do me the pleasure, monsieur, `
` to tell me how my own proper affair can become worse by anything `
` my wife does while I am in prison?" `
` `
` "Because that which she does is part of a plan concerted between `
` you--of an infernal plan." `
` `
` "I swear to you, Monsieur Commissary, that you are in the `
` profoundest error, that I know nothing in the world about what my `
` wife had to do, that I am entirely a stranger to what she has `
` done; and that if she has committed any follies, I renounce her, `
` I abjure her, I curse her!" `
` `
` "Bah!" said Athos to the commissary, "if you have no more need of `
` me, send me somewhere. Your Monsieur Bonacieux is very `
` tiresome." `
` `
` The commissary designated by the same gesture Athos and `
` Bonacieux, "Let them be guarded more closely than ever." `
` `
` "And yet," said Athos, with his habitual calmness, "if it be `
` Monsieur d'Artagnan who is concerned in this matter, I do not `
` perceive how I can take his place." `
` `
` "Do as I bade you," cried the commissary, "and preserve absolute `
` secrecy. You understand!" `
` `
` Athos shrugged his shoulders, and followed his guards silently, `
` while M. Bonacieux uttered lamentations enough to break the heart `
` of a tiger. `
` `
` They locked the mercer in the same dungeon where he had passed `
` the night, and left him to himself during the day. Bonacieux `
` wept all day, like a true mercer, not being at all a military `
` man, as he himself informed us. In the evening, about nine `
` o'clock, at the moment he had made up his mind to go to bed, he `
` heard steps in his corridor. These steps drew near to his `
` dungeon, the door was thrown open, and the guards appeared. `
` `
` "Follow me," said an officer, who came up behind the guards. `
` `
` "Follow you!" cried Bonacieux, "follow you at this hour! Where, `
` my God?" `
` `
` "Where we have orders to lead you." `
` `
` "But that is not an answer." `
` `
` "It is, nevertheless, the only one we can give." `
` `
` "Ah, my God, my God!" murmured the poor mercer, "now, indeed, I `
` am lost!" And he followed the guards who came for him, `
` mechanically and without resistance. `
` `
` He passed along the same corridor as before, crossed one court, `
` then a second side of a building; at length, at the gate of the `
` entrance court he found a carriage surrounded by four guards on `
` horseback. They made him enter this carriage, the officer placed `
` himself by his side, the door was locked, and they were left in a `
` rolling prison. The carriage was put in motion as slowly as a `
` funeral car. Through the closely fastened windows the prisoner `
` could perceive the houses and the pavement, that was all; but, `
` true Parisian as he was, Bonacieux could recognize every street `
` by the milestones, the signs, and the lamps. At the moment of `
` arriving at St. Paul--the spot where such as were condemned at `
` the Bastille were executed--he was near fainting and crossed `
` himself twice. He thought the carriage was about to stop there. `
` The carriage, however, passed on. `
` `
` Farther on, a still greater terror seized him on passing by the `
` cemetery of St. Jean, where state criminals were buried. One `
` thing, however, reassured him; he remembered that before they `
` were buried their heads were generally cut off, and he felt that `
` his head was still on his shoulders. But when he saw the `
` carriage take the way to La Greve, when he perceived the pointed `
` roof of the Hotel de Ville, and the carriage passed under the `
` arcade, he believed it was over with him. He wished to confess `
` to the officer, and upon his refusal, uttered such pitiable cries `
` that the officer told him that if he continued to deafen him `
` thus, he should put a gag in his mouth. `
` `
` This measure somewhat reassured Bonacieux. If they meant to `
` execute him at La Greve, it could scarcely be worth while to gag `
` him, as they had nearly reached the place of execution. Indeed, `
` the carriage crossed the fatal spot without stopping. There `
` remained, then, no other place to fear but the Traitor's Cross; `
` the carriage was taking the direct road to it. `
` `
` This time there was no longer any doubt; it was at the Traitor's `
` Cross that lesser criminals were executed. Bonacieux had `
` flattered himself in believing himself worthy of St. Paul or of `
` the Place de Greve; it was at the Traitor's Cross that his `
` journey and his destiny were about to end! He could not yet see `
` that dreadful cross, but he felt somehow as if it were coming to `
` meet him. When he was within twenty paces of it, he heard a `
` noise of people and the carriage stopped. This was more than `
` poor Bonacieux could endure, depressed as he was by the `
` successive emotions which he had experienced; he uttered a feeble `
` groan which night have been taken for the last sigh of a dying `
` man, and fainted. `
` `
` `
` `
` 14 THE MAN OF MEUNG `
` `
` The crowd was caused, not by the expectation of a man to be `
` hanged, but by the contemplation of a man who was hanged. `
` `
` The carriage, which had been stopped for a minute, resumed its `
` way, passed through the crowd, threaded the Rue St. Honore, `
` turned into the Rue des Bons Enfants, and stopped before a low `
` door. `
` `
` The door opened; two guards received Bonacieux in their arms from `
` the officer who supported him. They carried him through an `
` alley, up a flight of stairs, and deposited him in an `
` antechamber. `
` `
` All these movements had been effected mechanically, as far as he `
` was concerned. He had walked as one walks in a dream; he had a `
` glimpse of objects as through a fog. His ears had perceived `
` sounds without comprehending them; he might have been executed at `
` that moment without his making a single gesture in his own `
` defense or uttering a cry to implore mercy. `
` `
` He remained on the bench, with his back leaning against the wall `
` and his hands hanging down, exactly on the spot where the guards `
` placed him. `
` `
` On looking around him, however, as he could perceive no `
` threatening object, as nothing indicated that he ran any real `
` danger, as the bench was comfortably covered with a well-stuffed `
` cushion, as the wall was ornamented with a beautiful Cordova `
` leather, and as large red damask curtains, fastened back by gold `
` clasps, floated before the window, he perceived by degrees that `
` his fear was exaggerated, and he began to turn his head to the `
` right and the left, upward and downward. `
` `
` At this movement, which nobody opposed, he resumed a little `
` courage, and ventured to draw up one leg and then the other. At `
` length, with the help of his two hands he lifted himself from the `
` bench, and found himself on his feet. `
` `
` At this moment an officer with a pleasant face opened a door, `
` continued to exchange some words with a person in the next `
` chamber and then came up to the prisoner. "Is your name `
` Bonacieux?" said he. `
` `
` "Yes, Monsieur Officer," stammered the mercer, more dead than `
` alive, "at your service." `
` `
` "Come in," said the officer. `
` `
` And he moved out of the way to let the mercer pass. The latter `
` obeyed without reply, and entered the chamber, where he appeared `
`
` cried the poor questioner, who began to lose his head. `
` `
` "That is my name," said Athos, quietly. `
` `
` "But you said that your name was d'Artagnan." `
` `
` "Who, I?" `
` `
` "Yes, you." `
` `
` "Somebody said to me, 'You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?' I answered, `
` 'You think so?' My guards exclaimed that they were sure of it. `
` I did not wish to contradict them; besides, I might be deceived." `
` `
` "Monsieur, you insult the majesty of justice." `
` `
` "Not at all," said Athos, calmly. `
` `
` "You are Monsieur d'Artagnan." `
` `
` "You see, monsieur, that you say it again." `
` `
` "But I tell you, Monsieur Commissary," cried Bonacieux, in his `
` turn, "there is not the least doubt about the matter. Monsieur `
` d'Artagnan is my tenant, although he does not pay me my rent--and `
` even better on that account ought I to know him. Monsieur `
` d'Artagnan is a young man, scarcely nineteen or twenty, and this `
` gentleman must be thirty at least. Monsieur d'Artagnan is in `
` Monsieur Dessessart's Guards, and this gentleman is in the company of `
` Monsieur de Treville's Musketeers. Look at his uniform, Monsieur `
` Commissary, look at his uniform!" `
` `
` "That's true," murmured the commissary; "PARDIEU, that's true." `
` `
` At this moment the door was opened quickly, and a messenger, `
` introduced by one of the gatekeepers of the Bastille, gave a `
` letter to the commissary. `
` `
` "Oh, unhappy woman!" cried the commissary. `
` `
` "How? What do you say? Of whom do you speak? It is not of my `
` wife, I hope!" `
` `
` "On the contrary, it is of her. Yours is a pretty business." `
` `
` "But," said the agitated mercer, "do me the pleasure, monsieur, `
` to tell me how my own proper affair can become worse by anything `
` my wife does while I am in prison?" `
` `
` "Because that which she does is part of a plan concerted between `
` you--of an infernal plan." `
` `
` "I swear to you, Monsieur Commissary, that you are in the `
` profoundest error, that I know nothing in the world about what my `
` wife had to do, that I am entirely a stranger to what she has `
` done; and that if she has committed any follies, I renounce her, `
` I abjure her, I curse her!" `
` `
` "Bah!" said Athos to the commissary, "if you have no more need of `
` me, send me somewhere. Your Monsieur Bonacieux is very `
` tiresome." `
` `
` The commissary designated by the same gesture Athos and `
` Bonacieux, "Let them be guarded more closely than ever." `
` `
` "And yet," said Athos, with his habitual calmness, "if it be `
` Monsieur d'Artagnan who is concerned in this matter, I do not `
` perceive how I can take his place." `
` `
` "Do as I bade you," cried the commissary, "and preserve absolute `
` secrecy. You understand!" `
` `
` Athos shrugged his shoulders, and followed his guards silently, `
` while M. Bonacieux uttered lamentations enough to break the heart `
` of a tiger. `
` `
` They locked the mercer in the same dungeon where he had passed `
` the night, and left him to himself during the day. Bonacieux `
` wept all day, like a true mercer, not being at all a military `
` man, as he himself informed us. In the evening, about nine `
` o'clock, at the moment he had made up his mind to go to bed, he `
` heard steps in his corridor. These steps drew near to his `
` dungeon, the door was thrown open, and the guards appeared. `
` `
` "Follow me," said an officer, who came up behind the guards. `
` `
` "Follow you!" cried Bonacieux, "follow you at this hour! Where, `
` my God?" `
` `
` "Where we have orders to lead you." `
` `
` "But that is not an answer." `
` `
` "It is, nevertheless, the only one we can give." `
` `
` "Ah, my God, my God!" murmured the poor mercer, "now, indeed, I `
` am lost!" And he followed the guards who came for him, `
` mechanically and without resistance. `
` `
` He passed along the same corridor as before, crossed one court, `
` then a second side of a building; at length, at the gate of the `
` entrance court he found a carriage surrounded by four guards on `
` horseback. They made him enter this carriage, the officer placed `
` himself by his side, the door was locked, and they were left in a `
` rolling prison. The carriage was put in motion as slowly as a `
` funeral car. Through the closely fastened windows the prisoner `
` could perceive the houses and the pavement, that was all; but, `
` true Parisian as he was, Bonacieux could recognize every street `
` by the milestones, the signs, and the lamps. At the moment of `
` arriving at St. Paul--the spot where such as were condemned at `
` the Bastille were executed--he was near fainting and crossed `
` himself twice. He thought the carriage was about to stop there. `
` The carriage, however, passed on. `
` `
` Farther on, a still greater terror seized him on passing by the `
` cemetery of St. Jean, where state criminals were buried. One `
` thing, however, reassured him; he remembered that before they `
` were buried their heads were generally cut off, and he felt that `
` his head was still on his shoulders. But when he saw the `
` carriage take the way to La Greve, when he perceived the pointed `
` roof of the Hotel de Ville, and the carriage passed under the `
` arcade, he believed it was over with him. He wished to confess `
` to the officer, and upon his refusal, uttered such pitiable cries `
` that the officer told him that if he continued to deafen him `
` thus, he should put a gag in his mouth. `
` `
` This measure somewhat reassured Bonacieux. If they meant to `
` execute him at La Greve, it could scarcely be worth while to gag `
` him, as they had nearly reached the place of execution. Indeed, `
` the carriage crossed the fatal spot without stopping. There `
` remained, then, no other place to fear but the Traitor's Cross; `
` the carriage was taking the direct road to it. `
` `
` This time there was no longer any doubt; it was at the Traitor's `
` Cross that lesser criminals were executed. Bonacieux had `
` flattered himself in believing himself worthy of St. Paul or of `
` the Place de Greve; it was at the Traitor's Cross that his `
` journey and his destiny were about to end! He could not yet see `
` that dreadful cross, but he felt somehow as if it were coming to `
` meet him. When he was within twenty paces of it, he heard a `
` noise of people and the carriage stopped. This was more than `
` poor Bonacieux could endure, depressed as he was by the `
` successive emotions which he had experienced; he uttered a feeble `
` groan which night have been taken for the last sigh of a dying `
` man, and fainted. `
` `
` `
` `
` 14 THE MAN OF MEUNG `
` `
` The crowd was caused, not by the expectation of a man to be `
` hanged, but by the contemplation of a man who was hanged. `
` `
` The carriage, which had been stopped for a minute, resumed its `
` way, passed through the crowd, threaded the Rue St. Honore, `
` turned into the Rue des Bons Enfants, and stopped before a low `
` door. `
` `
` The door opened; two guards received Bonacieux in their arms from `
` the officer who supported him. They carried him through an `
` alley, up a flight of stairs, and deposited him in an `
` antechamber. `
` `
` All these movements had been effected mechanically, as far as he `
` was concerned. He had walked as one walks in a dream; he had a `
` glimpse of objects as through a fog. His ears had perceived `
` sounds without comprehending them; he might have been executed at `
` that moment without his making a single gesture in his own `
` defense or uttering a cry to implore mercy. `
` `
` He remained on the bench, with his back leaning against the wall `
` and his hands hanging down, exactly on the spot where the guards `
` placed him. `
` `
` On looking around him, however, as he could perceive no `
` threatening object, as nothing indicated that he ran any real `
` danger, as the bench was comfortably covered with a well-stuffed `
` cushion, as the wall was ornamented with a beautiful Cordova `
` leather, and as large red damask curtains, fastened back by gold `
` clasps, floated before the window, he perceived by degrees that `
` his fear was exaggerated, and he began to turn his head to the `
` right and the left, upward and downward. `
` `
` At this movement, which nobody opposed, he resumed a little `
` courage, and ventured to draw up one leg and then the other. At `
` length, with the help of his two hands he lifted himself from the `
` bench, and found himself on his feet. `
` `
` At this moment an officer with a pleasant face opened a door, `
` continued to exchange some words with a person in the next `
` chamber and then came up to the prisoner. "Is your name `
` Bonacieux?" said he. `
` `
` "Yes, Monsieur Officer," stammered the mercer, more dead than `
` alive, "at your service." `
` `
` "Come in," said the officer. `
` `
` And he moved out of the way to let the mercer pass. The latter `
` obeyed without reply, and entered the chamber, where he appeared `
`