Mousqueton, who knew nothing of what was going on in the
chateau, wondered that the idea had not occurred to him
sooner. D’Artagnan put the gold in his hat, and in going
back to the chateau settled the reckoning with Porthos, each
of them had cleared two hundred and fifteen louis.
Porthos, however, found that he had no straw left for
himself. He returned to Mousqueton, but the steward had sold
the last wisp. He then repaired to D’Artagnan, who, thanks
to his four trusses of straw, was in the act of making up
and tasting, by anticipation, the luxury of a bed so soft,
so well stuffed at the head, so well covered at the foot,
that it would have excited the envy of the king himself, if
his majesty had not been fast asleep in his own. D’Artagnan
could on no account consent to pull his bed to pieces again
for Porthos, but for a consideration of four louis that the
latter paid him for it, he consented that Porthos should
share his couch with him. He laid his sword at the head, his
pistols by his side, stretched his cloak over his feet,
placed his felt hat on the top of his cloak and extended
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himself luxuriously on the straw, which rustled under him.
He was already enjoying the sweet dream engendered by the
possession of two hundred and nineteen louis, made in a
quarter of an hour, when a voice was heard at the door of
the hall, which made him stir.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” it cried.
“Here!” cried Porthos, “here!”
Porthos foresaw that if D’Artagnan was called away he should
remain the sole possessor of the bed. An officer approached.
“I am come to fetch you, Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“From whom?”
“His eminence sent me.”
“Tell my lord that I’m going to sleep, and I advise him, as
a friend, to do the same.”
“His eminence is not gone to bed and will not go to bed, and
wants you instantly.”
“The devil take Mazarin, who does not know when to sleep at
the proper time. What does he want with me? Is it to make me
a captain? In that case I will forgive him.”
And the musketeer rose, grumbling, took his sword, hat,
pistols, and cloak, and followed the officer, whilst
Porthos, alone and sole possessor of the bed, endeavored to
follow the good example of falling asleep, which his
predecessor had set him.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the cardinal, on perceiving him,
“I have not forgotten with what zeal you have served me. I
am going to prove to you that I have not.”
“Good,” thought the Gascon, “this is a promising beginning.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” he resumed, “do you wish to become a
captain?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And your friend still longs to be made a baron?”
“At this very moment, my lord, he no doubt dreams that he is
one already.”
“Then,” said Mazarin, taking from his portfolio the letter
which he had already shown D’Artagnan, “take this dispatch
and carry it to England.”
D’Artagnan looked at the envelope; there was no address on
it.
“Am I not to know to whom to present it?”
“You will know when you reach London; at London you may tear
off the outer envelope.”
“And what are my instructions?”
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“To obey in every particular the man to whom this letter is
addressed. You must set out for Boulogne. At the Royal Arms
of England you will find a young gentleman named Mordaunt.”
“Yes, my lord; and what am I to do with this young
gentleman?”
“Follow wherever he leads you.”
D’Artagnan looked at the cardinal with a stupefied air.
“There are your instructions,” said Mazarin; “go!”
“Go! ’tis easy to say so, but that requires money, and I
haven’t any.”
“Ah!” replied Mazarin, “so you have no money?”
“None, my lord.”
“But the diamond I gave you yesterday?”
“I wish to keep it in remembrance of your eminence.”
Mazarin sighed.
“‘Tis very dear living in England, my lord, especially as
envoy extraordinary.”
“Zounds!” replied Mazarin, “the people there are very
sedate, and their habits, since the revolution, simple; but