to the Louvre, to place myself at the disposal of that
little crowned wolf-cub?”
“The king a wolf-cub? Why, monsieur le chevalier, you are
mad!”
“On the contrary, I never was so sane. You do not know what
he wants to do with me, this worthy son of Louis le Juste!
— But, Mordioux! that is policy. He wishes to ensconce me
snugly in the Bastile — purely and simply, look you!”
“What for?” cried Raoul, terrified at what he heard.
“On account of what I told him one day at Blois. I was warm;
he remembers it.”
“You told him what?”
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“That he was mean, cowardly, and silly.”
“Good God!” cried Raoul, “is it possible that such words
should have issued from your mouth?”
“Perhaps I don’t give the letter of my speech, but I give
the sense of it.”
“But did not the king have you arrested immediately?”
“By whom? It was I who commanded the musketeers; he must
have commanded me to convey myself to prison; I would never
have consented: I would have resisted myself. And then I
went into England — no more D’Artagnan. Now, the cardinal
is dead, or nearly so, they learn that I am in Paris, and
they lay their hands on me.”
“The cardinal was your protector?”
“The cardinal knew me; he knew certain particularities of
me; I also knew some of his; we appreciated each other
mutually. And then, on rendering his soul to the devil, he
would recommend Anne of Austria to make me the inhabitant of
a safe place. Go then, and find your father, relate the fact
to him — and adieu!”
“My dear Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Raoul, very much
agitated, after having looked out at the window, “you cannot
even fly!”
“Why not?”
“Because there is below an officer of the Swiss guards
waiting for you.”
“Well!”
“Well, he will arrest you.”
D’Artagnan broke into a Homeric laugh.
“Oh! I know very well that you will resist, that you will
fight, even; I know very well that you will prove the
conqueror; but that amounts to rebellion, and you are an
officer yourself, knowing what discipline is.”
“Devil of a boy, how logical that is!” grumbled D’Artagnan.
“You approve of it. do you not?”
“Yes, instead of passing into the street, where that idiot
is waiting for me, I will slip quietly out at the back. I
have a horse in the stable, and a good one. I will ride him
to death; my means permit me to do so, and by killing one
horse after another, I shall arrive at Boulogne in eleven
hours; I know the road. Only tell your father one thing.”
“What is that?”
“That is — that the thing he knows about is placed at
Planchet’s house, except a fifth, and that —- ”
“But, my dear M. d’Artagnan, rest assured that if you fly,
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two things will be said of you.”
“What are they, my dear friend?”
“The first, that you have been afraid.”
“Ah! and who will dare to say that?”
“The king first.”
“Well! but he will tell the truth, — I am afraid.”
“The second, that you knew yourself guilty.”
“Guilty of what?”
“Why, of the crimes they wish to impute to you.”
“That is true again. So, then, you advise me to go and get
myself made a prisoner in the Bastile?”
“M. le Comte de la Fere would advise you just as I do.”
“Pardieu! I know he would,” said D’Artagnan thoughtfully.
“You are right, I shall not escape. But if they cast me into
the Bastile?”
“We will get you out again,” said Raoul, with a quiet, calm
air.
“Mordioux! You said that after a brave fashion, Raoul,” said
D’Artagnan, seizing his hand, “that savors of Athos,
distinctly. Well, I will go, then. Do not forget my last
word.”
“Except a fifth,” said Raoul.
“Yes, you are a fine boy! and I wish you to add one thing to
that last word.”
“Speak, chevalier!”
“It is that if you cannot get me out of the Bastile, and I
remain there — oh! that will be so, and I shall be a