Reading Help The Three Musketeers Ch.41-67
d'Artagnan was dismounting at the inn of the Golden Harrow to drink a `
` glass of wine, a horseman came out of the post yard, where he had just `
` had a relay, started off at a gallop, and with a fresh horse took the `
` road to Paris. At the moment he passed through the gateway into the `
` street, the wind blew open the cloak in which he was wrapped, although `
` it was in the month of August, and lifted his hat, which the traveler `
` seized with his hand the moment it had left his head, pulling it eagerly `
` over his eyes. `
` `
` D'Artagnan, who had his eyes fixed upon this man, became very pale, and `
` let his glass fall. `
` `
` "What is the matter, monsieur?" said Planchet. "Oh, come, gentlemen, `
` my master is ill!" `
` `
` The three friends hastened toward d'Artagnan, who, instead of being ill, `
` ran toward his horse. They stopped him at the door. `
` `
` "Well, where the devil are you going now?" cried Athos. `
` `
` "It is he!" cried d'Artagnan, pale with anger, and with the sweat on his `
` brow, "it is he! let me overtake him!" `
` `
` "He? What he?" asked Athos. `
` `
` "He, that man!" `
` `
` "What man?" `
` `
` "That cursed man, my evil genius, whom I have always met with when `
` threatened by some misfortune, he who accompanied that horrible woman `
` when I met her for the first time, he whom I was seeking when I offended `
` our Athos, he whom I saw on the very morning Madame Bonacieux was `
` abducted. I have seen him; that is he! I recognized him when the wind `
` blew upon his cloak." `
` `
` "The devil!" said Athos, musingly. `
` `
` "To saddle, gentlemen! to saddle! Let us pursue him, and we shall `
` overtake him!" `
` `
` "My dear friend," said Aramis, "remember that he goes in an opposite `
` direction from that in which we are going, that he has a fresh horse, and `
` ours are fatigued, so that we shall disable our own horses without even `
` a chance of overtaking him. Let the man go, d'Artagnan; let us save the `
` woman." `
` `
` "Monsieur, monsieur!" cried a hostler, running out and looking after `
` the stranger, "monsieur, here is a paper which dropped out of your hat! `
` Eh, monsieur, eh!" `
` `
` "Friend," said d'Artagnan, "a half-pistole for that paper!" `
` `
` "My faith, monsieur, with great pleasure! Here it is!" `
` `
` The hostler, enchanted with the good day's work he had done, returned to `
` the yard. D'Artagnan unfolded the paper. `
` `
` "Well?" eagerly demanded all his three friends. `
` `
` "Nothing but one word!" said d'Artagnan. `
` `
` "Yes," said Aramis, "but that one word is the name of some town or `
` village." `
` `
` "Armentieres," read Porthos; "Armentieres? I don't know such a `
` place." `
` `
` "And that name of a town or village is written in her hand!" cried `
` Athos. `
` `
` "Come on, come on!" said d'Artagnan; "let us keep that paper carefully, `
` perhaps I have not thrown away my half-pistole. To horse, my friends, `
` to horse!" `
` `
` And the four friends flew at a gallop along the road to Bethune. `
` `
` `
` `
` 61 THE CARMELITE CONVENT AT BETHUNE `
` `
` Great criminals bear about them a kind of predestination which makes them `
` surmount all obstacles, which makes them escape all dangers, up to the `
` moment which a wearied Providence has marked as the rock of their `
` impious fortunes. `
` `
` It was thus with Milady. She escaped the cruisers of both nations, and `
` arrived at Boulogne without accident. `
` `
` When landing at Portsmouth, Milady was an Englishwoman whom the `
` persecutions of the French drove from La Rochelle; when landing at `
` Boulogne, after a two days' passage, she passed for a Frenchwoman whom `
` the English persecuted at Portsmouth out of their hatred for France. `
` `
` Milady had, likewise, the best of passports--her beauty, her noble `
` appearance, and the liberality with which she distributed her pistoles. `
` Freed from the usual formalities by the affable smile and gallant `
` manners of an old governor of the port, who kissed her hand, she only `
` remained long enough at Boulogne to put into the post a letter, `
` conceived in the following terms: `
` `
` `
` "To his Eminence Monseigneur the Cardinal Richelieu, in his camp before `
` La Rochelle. `
` `
` "Monseigneur, Let your Eminence be reassured. His Grace the Duke of `
` Buckingham WILL NOT SET OUT for France. `
` `
` "MILADY DE ---- `
` `
` "BOULOGNE, evening of the twenty-fifth. `
` `
` "P.S.--According to the desire of your Eminence, I report to the convent `
` of the Carmelites at Bethune, where I will await your orders." `
` `
` `
` Accordingly, that same evening Milady commenced her journey. Night `
` overtook her; she stopped, and slept at an inn. At five o'clock the `
` next morning she again proceeded, and in three hours after entered `
` Bethune. She inquired for the convent of the Carmelites, and went `
` thither immediately. `
` `
` The superior met her; Milady showed her the cardinal's order. The `
` abbess assigned her a chamber, and had breakfast served. `
` `
` All the past was effaced from the eyes of this woman; and her looks, `
` fixed on the future, beheld nothing but the high fortunes reserved for `
` her by the cardinal, whom she had so successfully served without his `
` name being in any way mixed up with the sanguinary affair. The ever-new `
` passions which consumed her gave to her life the appearance of those `
` clouds which float in the heavens, reflecting sometimes azure, sometimes `
` fire, sometimes the opaque blackness of the tempest, and which leave no `
` traces upon the earth behind them but devastation and death. `
` `
` After breakfast, the abbess came to pay her a visit. There is very `
` little amusement in the cloister, and the good superior was eager to `
` make the acquaintance of her new boarder. `
` `
` Milady wished to please the abbess. This was a very easy matter for a `
` woman so really superior as she was. She tried to be agreeable, and she `
` was charming, winning the good superior by her varied conversation and `
` by the graces of her whole personality. `
` `
` The abbess, who was the daughter of a noble house, took particular `
` delight in stories of the court, which so seldom travel to the `
` extremities of the kingdom, and which, above all, have so much `
` difficulty in penetrating the walls of convents, at whose threshold the `
` noise of the world dies away. `
` `
` Milady, on the contrary, was quite conversant with all aristocratic `
` intrigues, amid which she had constantly lived for five or six years. `
` She made it her business, therefore, to amuse the good abbess with the `
` worldly practices of the court of France, mixed with the eccentric `
` pursuits of the king; she made for her the scandalous chronicle of the `
` lords and ladies of the court, whom the abbess knew perfectly by name, `
` touched lightly on the amours of the queen and the Duke of Buckingham, `
` talking a great deal to induce her auditor to talk a little. `
` `
` But the abbess contented herself with listening and smiling without `
` replying a word. Milady, however, saw that this sort of narrative `
` amused her very much, and kept at it; only she now let her conversation `
` drift toward the cardinal. `
` `
` But she was greatly embarrassed. She did not know whether the abbess `
` was a royalist or a cardinalist; she therefore confined herself to a `
` prudent middle course. But the abbess, on her part, maintained a `
` reserve still more prudent, contenting herself with making a profound `
` inclination of the head every time the fair traveler pronounced the name `
` of his Eminence. `
` `
` Milady began to think she should soon grow weary of a convent life; she `
` resolved, then, to risk something in order that she might know how to `
` act afterward. Desirous of seeing how far the discretion of the good `
` abbess would go, she began to tell a story, obscure at first, but very `
` circumstantial afterward, about the cardinal, relating the amours of the `
` minister with Mme. d'Aiguillon, Marion de Lorme, and several other gay `
` women. `
` `
` The abbess listened more attentively, grew animated by degrees, and `
` smiled. `
` `
` "Good," thought Milady; "she takes a pleasure in my conversation. If `
` she is a cardinalist, she has no fanaticism, at least." `
` `
` She then went on to describe the persecutions exercised by the cardinal `
` upon his enemies. The abbess only crossed herself, without approving or `
` disapproving. `
` `
` This confirmed Milady in her opinion that the abbess was rather royalist `
` than cardinalist. Milady therefore continued, coloring her narrations `
` more and more. `
` `
` "I am very ignorant of these matters," said the abbess, at length; "but `
` however distant from the court we may be, however remote from the `
` interests of the world we may be placed, we have very sad examples of `
` what you have related. And one of our boarders has suffered much from `
` the vengeance and persecution of the cardinal!" `
` `
` "One of your boarders?" said Milady; "oh, my God! Poor woman! I pity `
` her, then." `
` `
`
` glass of wine, a horseman came out of the post yard, where he had just `
` had a relay, started off at a gallop, and with a fresh horse took the `
` road to Paris. At the moment he passed through the gateway into the `
` street, the wind blew open the cloak in which he was wrapped, although `
` it was in the month of August, and lifted his hat, which the traveler `
` seized with his hand the moment it had left his head, pulling it eagerly `
` over his eyes. `
` `
` D'Artagnan, who had his eyes fixed upon this man, became very pale, and `
` let his glass fall. `
` `
` "What is the matter, monsieur?" said Planchet. "Oh, come, gentlemen, `
` my master is ill!" `
` `
` The three friends hastened toward d'Artagnan, who, instead of being ill, `
` ran toward his horse. They stopped him at the door. `
` `
` "Well, where the devil are you going now?" cried Athos. `
` `
` "It is he!" cried d'Artagnan, pale with anger, and with the sweat on his `
` brow, "it is he! let me overtake him!" `
` `
` "He? What he?" asked Athos. `
` `
` "He, that man!" `
` `
` "What man?" `
` `
` "That cursed man, my evil genius, whom I have always met with when `
` threatened by some misfortune, he who accompanied that horrible woman `
` when I met her for the first time, he whom I was seeking when I offended `
` our Athos, he whom I saw on the very morning Madame Bonacieux was `
` abducted. I have seen him; that is he! I recognized him when the wind `
` blew upon his cloak." `
` `
` "The devil!" said Athos, musingly. `
` `
` "To saddle, gentlemen! to saddle! Let us pursue him, and we shall `
` overtake him!" `
` `
` "My dear friend," said Aramis, "remember that he goes in an opposite `
` direction from that in which we are going, that he has a fresh horse, and `
` ours are fatigued, so that we shall disable our own horses without even `
` a chance of overtaking him. Let the man go, d'Artagnan; let us save the `
` woman." `
` `
` "Monsieur, monsieur!" cried a hostler, running out and looking after `
` the stranger, "monsieur, here is a paper which dropped out of your hat! `
` Eh, monsieur, eh!" `
` `
` "Friend," said d'Artagnan, "a half-pistole for that paper!" `
` `
` "My faith, monsieur, with great pleasure! Here it is!" `
` `
` The hostler, enchanted with the good day's work he had done, returned to `
` the yard. D'Artagnan unfolded the paper. `
` `
` "Well?" eagerly demanded all his three friends. `
` `
` "Nothing but one word!" said d'Artagnan. `
` `
` "Yes," said Aramis, "but that one word is the name of some town or `
` village." `
` `
` "Armentieres," read Porthos; "Armentieres? I don't know such a `
` place." `
` `
` "And that name of a town or village is written in her hand!" cried `
` Athos. `
` `
` "Come on, come on!" said d'Artagnan; "let us keep that paper carefully, `
` perhaps I have not thrown away my half-pistole. To horse, my friends, `
` to horse!" `
` `
` And the four friends flew at a gallop along the road to Bethune. `
` `
` `
` `
` 61 THE CARMELITE CONVENT AT BETHUNE `
` `
` Great criminals bear about them a kind of predestination which makes them `
` surmount all obstacles, which makes them escape all dangers, up to the `
` moment which a wearied Providence has marked as the rock of their `
` impious fortunes. `
` `
` It was thus with Milady. She escaped the cruisers of both nations, and `
` arrived at Boulogne without accident. `
` `
` When landing at Portsmouth, Milady was an Englishwoman whom the `
` persecutions of the French drove from La Rochelle; when landing at `
` Boulogne, after a two days' passage, she passed for a Frenchwoman whom `
` the English persecuted at Portsmouth out of their hatred for France. `
` `
` Milady had, likewise, the best of passports--her beauty, her noble `
` appearance, and the liberality with which she distributed her pistoles. `
` Freed from the usual formalities by the affable smile and gallant `
` manners of an old governor of the port, who kissed her hand, she only `
` remained long enough at Boulogne to put into the post a letter, `
` conceived in the following terms: `
` `
` `
` "To his Eminence Monseigneur the Cardinal Richelieu, in his camp before `
` La Rochelle. `
` `
` "Monseigneur, Let your Eminence be reassured. His Grace the Duke of `
` Buckingham WILL NOT SET OUT for France. `
` `
` "MILADY DE ---- `
` `
` "BOULOGNE, evening of the twenty-fifth. `
` `
` "P.S.--According to the desire of your Eminence, I report to the convent `
` of the Carmelites at Bethune, where I will await your orders." `
` `
` `
` Accordingly, that same evening Milady commenced her journey. Night `
` overtook her; she stopped, and slept at an inn. At five o'clock the `
` next morning she again proceeded, and in three hours after entered `
` Bethune. She inquired for the convent of the Carmelites, and went `
` thither immediately. `
` `
` The superior met her; Milady showed her the cardinal's order. The `
` abbess assigned her a chamber, and had breakfast served. `
` `
` All the past was effaced from the eyes of this woman; and her looks, `
` fixed on the future, beheld nothing but the high fortunes reserved for `
` her by the cardinal, whom she had so successfully served without his `
` name being in any way mixed up with the sanguinary affair. The ever-new `
` passions which consumed her gave to her life the appearance of those `
` clouds which float in the heavens, reflecting sometimes azure, sometimes `
` fire, sometimes the opaque blackness of the tempest, and which leave no `
` traces upon the earth behind them but devastation and death. `
` `
` After breakfast, the abbess came to pay her a visit. There is very `
` little amusement in the cloister, and the good superior was eager to `
` make the acquaintance of her new boarder. `
` `
` Milady wished to please the abbess. This was a very easy matter for a `
` woman so really superior as she was. She tried to be agreeable, and she `
` was charming, winning the good superior by her varied conversation and `
` by the graces of her whole personality. `
` `
` The abbess, who was the daughter of a noble house, took particular `
` delight in stories of the court, which so seldom travel to the `
` extremities of the kingdom, and which, above all, have so much `
` difficulty in penetrating the walls of convents, at whose threshold the `
` noise of the world dies away. `
` `
` Milady, on the contrary, was quite conversant with all aristocratic `
` intrigues, amid which she had constantly lived for five or six years. `
` She made it her business, therefore, to amuse the good abbess with the `
` worldly practices of the court of France, mixed with the eccentric `
` pursuits of the king; she made for her the scandalous chronicle of the `
` lords and ladies of the court, whom the abbess knew perfectly by name, `
` touched lightly on the amours of the queen and the Duke of Buckingham, `
` talking a great deal to induce her auditor to talk a little. `
` `
` But the abbess contented herself with listening and smiling without `
` replying a word. Milady, however, saw that this sort of narrative `
` amused her very much, and kept at it; only she now let her conversation `
` drift toward the cardinal. `
` `
` But she was greatly embarrassed. She did not know whether the abbess `
` was a royalist or a cardinalist; she therefore confined herself to a `
` prudent middle course. But the abbess, on her part, maintained a `
` reserve still more prudent, contenting herself with making a profound `
` inclination of the head every time the fair traveler pronounced the name `
` of his Eminence. `
` `
` Milady began to think she should soon grow weary of a convent life; she `
` resolved, then, to risk something in order that she might know how to `
` act afterward. Desirous of seeing how far the discretion of the good `
` abbess would go, she began to tell a story, obscure at first, but very `
` circumstantial afterward, about the cardinal, relating the amours of the `
` minister with Mme. d'Aiguillon, Marion de Lorme, and several other gay `
` women. `
` `
` The abbess listened more attentively, grew animated by degrees, and `
` smiled. `
` `
` "Good," thought Milady; "she takes a pleasure in my conversation. If `
` she is a cardinalist, she has no fanaticism, at least." `
` `
` She then went on to describe the persecutions exercised by the cardinal `
` upon his enemies. The abbess only crossed herself, without approving or `
` disapproving. `
` `
` This confirmed Milady in her opinion that the abbess was rather royalist `
` than cardinalist. Milady therefore continued, coloring her narrations `
` more and more. `
` `
` "I am very ignorant of these matters," said the abbess, at length; "but `
` however distant from the court we may be, however remote from the `
` interests of the world we may be placed, we have very sad examples of `
` what you have related. And one of our boarders has suffered much from `
` the vengeance and persecution of the cardinal!" `
` `
` "One of your boarders?" said Milady; "oh, my God! Poor woman! I pity `
` her, then." `
` `
`