monsieur le comte does not want me.”
“No, Raoul I am to have an audience to-day of Monsieur, the
king’s brother; that is all I have to do.”
Raoul asked Grimaud for his sword, which the old man brought
him immediately. “Now then,” added D’Artagnan, opening his
arms to Athos, “adieu, my dear friend!” Athos held him in a
long embrace, and the musketeer, who knew his discretion so
well, murmured in his ear — “An affair of state,” to which
Athos only replied by a pressure of the hand, still more
significant. They then separated. Raoul took the arm of his
old friend, who led him along the Rue-Saint-Honore. “I am
conducting you to the abode of the god Plutus,” said
D’Artagnan to the young man; “prepare yourself. The whole
day you will witness the piling up of crowns. Heavens! how I
am changed!”
“Oh! what numbers of people there are in the street!” said
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Raoul.
“Is there a procession to-day?” asked D’Artagnan of a
passer-by.
“Monsieur, it is a hanging,” replied the man.
“What! a hanging at the Greve?” said D’Artagnan.
“Yes, monsieur.”
“The devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I
want to go and take my rent!” cried D’Artagnan. “Raoul, did
you ever see anybody hung?”
“Never, monsieur — thank God!”
“Oh! how young that sounds! If you were on guard in the
trenches, as I was, and a spy! But, pardon me, Raoul, I am
doting — you are quite right, it is a hideous sight to see
a person hung! At what hour do they hang them, monsieur, if
you please?”
“Monsieur,” replied the stranger respectfully, delighted at
joining conversation with two men of the sword, “it will
take place about three o’clock.”
“Aha! it is now only half-past one; let us step out, we
shall be there in time to touch my three hundred and
seventy-five livres, and get away before the arrival of the
malefactor.”
“Malefactors, monsieur,” continued the bourgeois; “there are
two of them.”
“Monsieur, I return you many thanks,” said D’Artagnan, who,
as he grew older, had become polite to a degree. Drawing
Raoul along, he directed his course rapidly in the direction
of La Greve. Without that great experience musketeers have
of a crowd, to which were joined an irresistible strength of
wrist, and an uncommon suppleness of shoulders, our two
travelers would not have arrived at their place of
destination. They followed the line of the Quai, which they
had gained on quitting the Rue Saint-Honore, where they left
Athos. D’Artagnan went first; his elbow, his wrist, his
shoulder formed three wedges which he knew how to insinuate
with skill into the groups, to make them split and separate
like firewood. He made use sometimes of the hilt of his
sword as an additional help: introducing it between ribs
that were too rebellious, making it take the part of a lever
or crowbar, to separate husband from wife, uncle from
nephew, and brother from brother. And all this was done so
naturally, and with such gracious smiles, that people must
have had ribs of bronze not to cry thank you when the wrist
made its play, or hearts of diamond not to be enchanted when
such a bland smile enlivened the lips of the musketeer.
Raoul, following his friend, cajoled the women who admired
his beauty, pushed back the men who felt the rigidity of his
muscles, and both opened, thanks to these maneuvers, the
compact and muddy tide of the populace. They arrived in
sight of the two gibbets, from which Raoul turned away his
eyes in disgust. As for D’Artagnan, he did not even see
them; his house with its gabled roof, its windows crowded
with the curious, attracted and even absorbed all the
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attention he was capable of. He distinguished in the Place
and around the houses a good number of musketeers on leave,
who, some with women, others with friends, awaited the
crowning ceremony. What rejoiced him above all was to see
that his tenant, the cabaretier, was so busy he hardly knew
which way to turn. Three lads could not supply the drinkers.