the most picturesque adventures of their youth.
“If Mousqueton were with us,” observed Athos, on reaching the
spot where they had had a dispute with the paviers, “how he
would tremble at passing this! Do you remember, Aramis, that
it was here he received that famous bullet wound?”
“By my faith, ‘twould be excusable in him to tremble,”
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replied Aramis, “for even I feel a shudder at the
recollection; hold, just above that tree is the little spot
where I thought I was killed.”
It was soon time for Grimaud to recall the past. Arriving
before the inn at which his master and himself had made such
an enormous repast, he approached Athos and said, showing
him the airhole of the cellar:
“Sausages!”
Athos began to laugh, for this juvenile escapade of his
appeared to be as amusing as if some one had related it of
another person.
At last, after traveling two days and a night, they arrived
at Boulogne toward the evening, favored by magnificent
weather. Boulogne was a strong position, then almost a
deserted town, built entirely on the heights; what is now
called the lower town did not then exist.
“Gentlemen,” said De Winter, on reaching the gate of the
town, “let us do here as at Paris — let us separate to
avoid suspicion. I know an inn, little frequented, but of
which the host is entirely devoted to me. I will go there,
where I expect to find letters, and you go to the first
tavern in the town, to L’Epee du Grand Henri for instance,
refresh yourselves, and in two hours be upon the jetty; our
boat is waiting for us there.”
The matter being thus decided, the two friends found, about
two hundred paces further, the tavern indicated. Their
horses were fed, but not unsaddled; the grooms supped, for
it was already late, and their two masters, impatient to
return, appointed a place of meeting with them on the jetty
and desired them on no account to exchange a word with any
one. It is needless to say that this caution concerned
Blaisois alone — long enough since it had been a useless
one to Grimaud.
Athos and Aramis walked down toward the port. From their
dress, covered with dust, and from a certain easy manner by
means of which a man accustomed to travel is always
recognizable, the two friends excited the attention of a few
promenaders. There was more especially one upon whom their
arrival had produced a decided impression. This man, whom
they had noticed from the first for the same reason they had
themselves been remarked by others, was walking in a
listless way up and down the jetty. From the moment he
perceived them he did not cease to look at them and seemed
to burn with the wish to speak to them.
On reaching the jetty Athos and Aramis stopped to look at a
little boat made fast to a pile and ready rigged as if
waiting to start.
“That is doubtless our boat,” said Athos.
“Yes,” replied Aramis, “and the sloop out there making ready
to sail must be that which is to take us to our destination;
now,” continued he, “if only De Winter does not keep us
waiting. It is not at all amusing here; there is not a
single woman passing.”
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“Hush!” said Athos, “we are overheard.”
In truth, the walker, who, during the observations of the
two friends, had passed and repassed behind them several
times, stopped at the name of De Winter; but as his face
betrayed no emotion at mention of this name, it might have
been by chance he stood so still.
“Gentlemen,” said the man, who was young and pale, bowing
with ease and courtesy, “pardon my curiosity, but I see you
come from Paris, or at least that you are strangers at
Boulogne.”
“We come from Paris, yes,” replied Athos, with the same
courtesy; “what is there we can do for you?”
“Sir,” said the young man, “will you be so good as to tell
me if it be true that Cardinal Mazarin is no longer