Reading Help The Three Musketeers Ch.19-40
and short. And yet he said, to reassure himself, that this `
` pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; that `
` the young woman had made an appointment with him before the `
` pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have been `
` detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy of `
` her husband. `
` `
` But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by `
` that feeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes `
` possession of our being, and cries to us so as to be understood `
` unmistakably that some great misfortune is hanging over us. `
` `
` Then d'Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road, `
` took the path he had before taken, and reaching the ferry, `
` interrogated the boatman. `
` `
` About seven o'clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a `
` young woman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very `
` anxious not to be recognized; but entirely on account of her `
` precautions, the boatman had paid more attention to her and `
` discovered that she was young and pretty. `
` `
` There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who `
` came to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and `
` yet d'Artagnan did not for an instant doubt that it was Mme. `
` Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed. `
` `
` D'Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin `
` of the ferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again, `
` and satisfy himself that he had not been mistaken, that the `
` appointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, before the `
` D'Estrees's pavilion and not in another street. Everything `
` conspired to prove to d'Artagnan that his presentiments had not `
` deceived him, and that a great misfortune had happened. `
` `
` He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him that `
` something might have happened at the pavilion in his absence, and `
` that fresh information awaited him. The lane was still deserted, `
` and the same calm soft light shone through the window. `
` `
` D'Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure, `
` which had no doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate `
` of the enclosure was shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and in `
` spite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up to the cabin. `
` `
` No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death `
` reigned in the cabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his `
` last resource, he knocked again. `
` `
` It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within--a `
` timid noise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard. `
` `
` Then d'Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so `
` full of anxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice `
` was of a nature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old, `
` worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closed `
` again as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which burned in `
` the corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol `
` pommels of d'Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had `
` been, d'Artagnan had had time to get a glimpse of the head of an `
` old man. `
` `
` "In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have been `
` waiting for someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety. `
` Has anything particular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!" `
` `
` The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared, `
` only it was now still more pale than before. `
` `
` D'Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names. `
` He told how he had a rendezvous with a young woman before that `
` pavilion, and how, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden `
` tree, and by the light of the lamp had seen the disorder of the `
` chamber. `
` `
` The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it was `
` all so; and then, when d'Artagnan had ended, he shook his head `
` with an air that announced nothing good. `
` `
` "What do you mean?" cried d'Artagnan. "In the name of heaven, `
` explain yourself!" `
` `
` "Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if I `
` dared tell you what I have seen, certainly no good would befall `
` me." `
` `
` "You have, then, seen something?" replied d'Artagnan. "In that `
` case, in the name of heaven," continued he, throwing him a `
` pistole, "tell me what you have seen, and I will pledge you the `
` word of a gentleman that not one of your words shall escape from `
` my heart." `
` `
` The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of `
` the young man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in `
` a low voice: "It was scarcely nine o'clock when I heard a noise `
` in the street, and was wondering what it could be, when on coming `
` to my door, I found that somebody was endeavoring to open it. As `
` I am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I went and `
` opened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In the `
` shadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses. `
` These horses evidently belonged to the three men, who were dressed `
` as cavaliers. 'Ah, my worthy gentlemen,' cried I, 'what do you `
` want?' 'You must have a ladder?' said he who appeared to be the `
` leader of the party. 'Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gather `
` my fruit.' 'Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there `
` is a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember `
` this--if you speak a word of what you may see or what you may `
` hear (for you will look and you will listen, I am quite sure, `
` however we may threaten you), you are lost.' At these words he `
` threw me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the ladder. `
` After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to the `
` house, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing along `
` in the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, from `
` which I could hear and see everything. The three men brought the `
` carriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout, `
` short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color, `
` who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at `
` the window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone `
` up, and whispered, 'It is she!' Immediately, he who had spoken `
` to me approached the door of the pavilion, opened it with a key `
` he had in his hand, closed the door and disappeared, while at the `
` same time the other two men ascended the ladder. The little old `
` man remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of his `
` horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once great `
` cries resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window, `
` and opened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon as `
` she perceived the other two men, she fell back and they went into `
` the chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise of `
` breaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but `
` her cries were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearing `
` the woman in their arms, and carried her to the carriage, into `
` which the little old man got after her. The leader closed the `
` window, came out an instant after by the door, and satisfied `
` himself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companions `
` were already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackey `
` took his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quick `
` pace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. From `
` that moment I have neither seen nor heard anything." `
` `
` D'Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remained `
` motionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy `
` were howling in his heart. `
` `
` "But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom this `
` mute despair certainly produced a greater effect than cries and `
` tears would have done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her, `
` and that's a comfort." `
` `
` "Can you guess," said d'Artagnan, "who was the man who headed `
` this infernal expedition?" `
` `
` "I don't know him." `
` `
` "But as you spoke to him you must have seen him." `
` `
` "Oh, it's a description you want?" `
` `
` "Exactly so." `
` `
` "A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the air `
` of a gentleman." `
` `
` "That's the man!" cried d'Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He is `
` my demon, apparently. And the other?" `
` `
` "Which?" `
` `
` "The short one." `
` `
` "Oh, he was not a gentleman, I'll answer for it; besides, he did `
` not wear a sword, and the others treated him with small `
` consideration." `
` `
` "Some lackey," murmured d'Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman, `
` what have they done with you?" `
` `
` "You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the old `
` man. `
` `
` "And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman `
` has but his word, and I have given you mine." `
` `
` With a heavy heart, d'Artagnan again bent his way toward the `
` ferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and `
` that he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he `
` feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealous `
` fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by `
` doubt, grief, and despair. `
` `
` "Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have, `
` at least, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what has `
` become of them?" `
` `
` It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet. `
` d'Artagnan went successively into all the cabarets in which there `
` was a light, but could not find Planchet in any of them. `
` `
` At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was rather `
` dubious. D'Artagnan had appointed six o'clock in the morning for `
` his lackey, and wherever he might be, he was right. `
` `
`
` pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; that `
` the young woman had made an appointment with him before the `
` pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have been `
` detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy of `
` her husband. `
` `
` But all these reasons were combated, destroyed, overthrown, by `
` that feeling of intimate pain which, on certain occasions, takes `
` possession of our being, and cries to us so as to be understood `
` unmistakably that some great misfortune is hanging over us. `
` `
` Then d'Artagnan became almost wild. He ran along the high road, `
` took the path he had before taken, and reaching the ferry, `
` interrogated the boatman. `
` `
` About seven o'clock in the evening, the boatman had taken over a `
` young woman, wrapped in a black mantle, who appeared to be very `
` anxious not to be recognized; but entirely on account of her `
` precautions, the boatman had paid more attention to her and `
` discovered that she was young and pretty. `
` `
` There were then, as now, a crowd of young and pretty women who `
` came to St. Cloud, and who had reasons for not being seen, and `
` yet d'Artagnan did not for an instant doubt that it was Mme. `
` Bonacieux whom the boatman had noticed. `
` `
` D'Artagnan took advantage of the lamp which burned in the cabin `
` of the ferryman to read the billet of Mme. Bonacieux once again, `
` and satisfy himself that he had not been mistaken, that the `
` appointment was at St. Cloud and not elsewhere, before the `
` D'Estrees's pavilion and not in another street. Everything `
` conspired to prove to d'Artagnan that his presentiments had not `
` deceived him, and that a great misfortune had happened. `
` `
` He again ran back to the chateau. It appeared to him that `
` something might have happened at the pavilion in his absence, and `
` that fresh information awaited him. The lane was still deserted, `
` and the same calm soft light shone through the window. `
` `
` D'Artagnan then thought of that cottage, silent and obscure, `
` which had no doubt seen all, and could tell its tale. The gate `
` of the enclosure was shut; but he leaped over the hedge, and in `
` spite of the barking of a chained-up dog, went up to the cabin. `
` `
` No one answered to his first knocking. A silence of death `
` reigned in the cabin as in the pavilion; but as the cabin was his `
` last resource, he knocked again. `
` `
` It soon appeared to him that he heard a slight noise within--a `
` timid noise which seemed to tremble lest it should be heard. `
` `
` Then d'Artagnan ceased knocking, and prayed with an accent so `
` full of anxiety and promises, terror and cajolery, that his voice `
` was of a nature to reassure the most fearful. At length an old, `
` worm-eaten shutter was opened, or rather pushed ajar, but closed `
` again as soon as the light from a miserable lamp which burned in `
` the corner had shone upon the baldric, sword belt, and pistol `
` pommels of d'Artagnan. Nevertheless, rapid as the movement had `
` been, d'Artagnan had had time to get a glimpse of the head of an `
` old man. `
` `
` "In the name of heaven!" cried he, "listen to me; I have been `
` waiting for someone who has not come. I am dying with anxiety. `
` Has anything particular happened in the neighborhood? Speak!" `
` `
` The window was again opened slowly, and the same face appeared, `
` only it was now still more pale than before. `
` `
` D'Artagnan related his story simply, with the omission of names. `
` He told how he had a rendezvous with a young woman before that `
` pavilion, and how, not seeing her come, he had climbed the linden `
` tree, and by the light of the lamp had seen the disorder of the `
` chamber. `
` `
` The old man listened attentively, making a sign only that it was `
` all so; and then, when d'Artagnan had ended, he shook his head `
` with an air that announced nothing good. `
` `
` "What do you mean?" cried d'Artagnan. "In the name of heaven, `
` explain yourself!" `
` `
` "Oh! Monsieur," said the old man, "ask me nothing; for if I `
` dared tell you what I have seen, certainly no good would befall `
` me." `
` `
` "You have, then, seen something?" replied d'Artagnan. "In that `
` case, in the name of heaven," continued he, throwing him a `
` pistole, "tell me what you have seen, and I will pledge you the `
` word of a gentleman that not one of your words shall escape from `
` my heart." `
` `
` The old man read so much truth and so much grief in the face of `
` the young man that he made him a sign to listen, and repeated in `
` a low voice: "It was scarcely nine o'clock when I heard a noise `
` in the street, and was wondering what it could be, when on coming `
` to my door, I found that somebody was endeavoring to open it. As `
` I am very poor and am not afraid of being robbed, I went and `
` opened the gate and saw three men at a few paces from it. In the `
` shadow was a carriage with two horses, and some saddlehorses. `
` These horses evidently belonged to the three men, who were dressed `
` as cavaliers. 'Ah, my worthy gentlemen,' cried I, 'what do you `
` want?' 'You must have a ladder?' said he who appeared to be the `
` leader of the party. 'Yes, monsieur, the one with which I gather `
` my fruit.' 'Lend it to us, and go into your house again; there `
` is a crown for the annoyance we have caused you. Only remember `
` this--if you speak a word of what you may see or what you may `
` hear (for you will look and you will listen, I am quite sure, `
` however we may threaten you), you are lost.' At these words he `
` threw me a crown, which I picked up, and he took the ladder. `
` After shutting the gate behind them, I pretended to return to the `
` house, but I immediately went out a back door, and stealing along `
` in the shade of the hedge, I gained yonder clump of elder, from `
` which I could hear and see everything. The three men brought the `
` carriage up quietly, and took out of it a little man, stout, `
` short, elderly, and commonly dressed in clothes of a dark color, `
` who ascended the ladder very carefully, looked suspiciously in at `
` the window of the pavilion, came down as quietly as he had gone `
` up, and whispered, 'It is she!' Immediately, he who had spoken `
` to me approached the door of the pavilion, opened it with a key `
` he had in his hand, closed the door and disappeared, while at the `
` same time the other two men ascended the ladder. The little old `
` man remained at the coach door; the coachman took care of his `
` horses, the lackey held the saddlehorses. All at once great `
` cries resounded in the pavilion, and a woman came to the window, `
` and opened it, as if to throw herself out of it; but as soon as `
` she perceived the other two men, she fell back and they went into `
` the chamber. Then I saw no more; but I heard the noise of `
` breaking furniture. The woman screamed, and cried for help; but `
` her cries were soon stifled. Two of the men appeared, bearing `
` the woman in their arms, and carried her to the carriage, into `
` which the little old man got after her. The leader closed the `
` window, came out an instant after by the door, and satisfied `
` himself that the woman was in the carriage. His two companions `
` were already on horseback. He sprang into his saddle; the lackey `
` took his place by the coachman; the carriage went off at a quick `
` pace, escorted by the three horsemen, and all was over. From `
` that moment I have neither seen nor heard anything." `
` `
` D'Artagnan, entirely overcome by this terrible story, remained `
` motionless and mute, while all the demons of anger and jealousy `
` were howling in his heart. `
` `
` "But, my good gentleman," resumed the old man, upon whom this `
` mute despair certainly produced a greater effect than cries and `
` tears would have done, "do not take on so; they did not kill her, `
` and that's a comfort." `
` `
` "Can you guess," said d'Artagnan, "who was the man who headed `
` this infernal expedition?" `
` `
` "I don't know him." `
` `
` "But as you spoke to him you must have seen him." `
` `
` "Oh, it's a description you want?" `
` `
` "Exactly so." `
` `
` "A tall, dark man, with black mustaches, dark eyes, and the air `
` of a gentleman." `
` `
` "That's the man!" cried d'Artagnan, "again he, forever he! He is `
` my demon, apparently. And the other?" `
` `
` "Which?" `
` `
` "The short one." `
` `
` "Oh, he was not a gentleman, I'll answer for it; besides, he did `
` not wear a sword, and the others treated him with small `
` consideration." `
` `
` "Some lackey," murmured d'Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman, `
` what have they done with you?" `
` `
` "You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the old `
` man. `
` `
` "And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman `
` has but his word, and I have given you mine." `
` `
` With a heavy heart, d'Artagnan again bent his way toward the `
` ferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and `
` that he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he `
` feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealous `
` fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by `
` doubt, grief, and despair. `
` `
` "Oh, if I had my three friends here," cried he, "I should have, `
` at least, some hopes of finding her; but who knows what has `
` become of them?" `
` `
` It was past midnight; the next thing was to find Planchet. `
` d'Artagnan went successively into all the cabarets in which there `
` was a light, but could not find Planchet in any of them. `
` `
` At the sixth he began to reflect that the search was rather `
` dubious. D'Artagnan had appointed six o'clock in the morning for `
` his lackey, and wherever he might be, he was right. `
` `
`